#Jesus Christ I hate my goddamn brain
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Me: I have motivation to draw!
My hand: Yeah weâre not going to cooperate with you
Me: :/
#I am TRYING to fucking get commissions done#Jesus Christ I hate my goddamn brain#why am I always fucking burnt out#always I canât even draw for my fucking self anymore#I wanna do art I see people making such beautiful and wonderful things but I hate hate HATE everything Iâve been doing lately and I wanna cr#I owe people art and everything Iâm making isnât fucking good enough for them#like. wtf is wrong#why#why why why why#please I just wanna fucking draw
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So guess who finally watched JJK
#I went from watching Dungeon Meshi earlier this month to watching JJK and I havenât watched a shounen in literal years so#I can found dead in a ditch after being beaten bloody and raw holy shit#I like knew it would but dark but like Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker I was not expecting that#I still need to read the manga but like damn I need a moment after that#so far I can say JJK is in fact worth the hype and has consumed my soul#Yuuji Itadori my absolute beloved I love you so much I would die for you with zero hesitation#heâs my favorite character and I only want good things for him so so badly and I also want to torture him#I have a deep love hate relationship with Sukuna that kinda haunts me#Megumi is so funky I like him a lot#an absolute madman pretending to be the straight man in bits and no I will not be taking criticism on this opinion#kugisaki my girl you deserve more screen time please let her shine#nanamin you will also haunt me#I didnât want to like Gojo I was like I am above simping for him and then Iâm putting on the clown make up and THEN#They put him in a box just as I went goddamn it I am down bad for Gojo Satoru like COME ON#Anyway Suguru and his eye bags and depression and deeply rooted issues compelled me#Satosugu brain rot is in fact and real and can hurt me#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#shibuya arc#itadori yuuji#megumi fushiguro#nobara kugisaki#gojo satoru#geto suguru#nanami kento#satosugu#ryomen sukuna
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eeeuuuuggghhh i'm gonna bitch in the tags a bit bcus this isn't like. serious enough to put more effort into it than that but i also don't want it to sit in my brain.
#little rock.txt#venting#self harm in tags btw#anyway. wow i hate intrusive thoughts.#like great guys. it's so cool that the way we're deciding to spend our time is constantly thinking about ways to hurt myself#oh wow stabbing myself with a knife someone left on the counter? so original. never been seen before#oh starving myself?? even when my lovely friend made us a whole dinner?? that's lovely. wow. not even a little bit rude#standing in traffic until someone comes and hits me? at least that wouldn't damage my fucking car like your other ideas!#taking something sharp to my sunburns for a two-birds-one-stone thing?? i guess you're making the best of the circumstances#like jesus fucking christ Grow Up. am i fifteen goddamn years old again#like if we're being So real the consequences of actually self-harming Far outweigh the benefits so i'm not at any real risk#(i do Not want to deal with the fallout of 1. cleaning those wounds 2. confronting my housemates with active self-harm#they actively do not deserve that happening to them)#(hi guys btw sorry. i'm fine)#but that just means i'm sitting here like. so are you gonna be productive or....?#like i had plans of what i wanted to do with my brain power tonight. was gonna write. maybe clip a stream. and we're...?#oh just sitting on my laptop playing music too loud bcus if i could hear my own thoughts it'd be a nightmare? neat.#jesus christ can i be a normal goddamn person for like fifteen minutes and get out of this anxiety spiral. it's been over 24 hours.#whatever. like at this point it's fucking whatever. if i can't drag myself into being productive i'm just gonna go to bed.#âopal is being mean to yourself really going to helpâ i don't know. i doubt it. unfortunately i am in the mood to be a bitch#and the only person who deserves to deal with bitchy opal is me. so.#anyway if you read all of this uuuhhh sorry. i am like this. but hey. thank you for caring
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Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3
-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3
cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.
Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.
Steve just stares.
Itâs⊠Freddie? No, thatâs not right... Eddie! Eddie âthe freakâ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer⊠resting his head on Steveâs lap.
What the hell�
Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.
Itâs not much but itâs enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, âthe dice have spoken!â, but Steve canât be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.
âSteve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.â Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steveâs shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.
âOh, damn, sorry. Iâm like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. Thereâs way too much expensive, breakable shit here. Iâm not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.â Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.
But that canât be right. Steve doesnât remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.
âFor real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelinâ, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,â Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, âbut they keep cutting you back. Dicks.â
Steveâs eyes try and follow Eddieâs erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.
âWhat happened?â Steve finally croaks.
One of Eddieâs brows jumps. âYou donât remember?â
Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why heâs sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like theyâre buddies?
âYou fell, Stevie.â Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steveâs bandaged head. âLike a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big olâ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldnât wake up.â
Steveâs throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, âThe kids?â
Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddieâs own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.
âDonât worry, theyâre all fine. They were just shaken up. Iâll radio the little gremlins and give âem the good news in a sec.â Eddieâs smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but canât quite get it out.
Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, âWhat is it?â
âDonât freak outââ Eddie begins.
And, okay, thatâs exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steveâs stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. âWhat? Dude, tell meââ
âItâs your hair.â Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve âThe Hairâ Harrington.
Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors heâs hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. âMy hair?â
âItâs okay! Itâs okay, itâll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice itâwell, thatâs a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from spaceâbut I think if you part it to the other side it wonât look so⊠yâknow.â
âNo, dude, I donât know.â Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.
âLike a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.â Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.
Steve groans, half due to the bastardization thatâs happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine thatâs looming on his horizon.
âYouâre still pretty, Stevie, donât worry.â Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like heâs trying to be cute or something.
That weirdest part is, itâs kind of working.
Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.
The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.
Unfortunately for him, Steve hadnât exactly aced any of the tests.
In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldnât remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldnât say the alphabet backwards⊠although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.
A couple of CAT scans later and itâs clear that Steveâs brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.
Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.
Heâs a head trauma patient, now.
Itâs normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.
Which, thatâs great. So when he gets beat up again, thereâs always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.
And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didnât sound all that terrible.
He lived with Robin, whoâs his best friend, (his âplatonic soulmateâ even, as she explains it), heâs working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. Heâd even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.
Well, he was. Now heâs more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.
And then thereâs Eddie.
Eddie, whoâs apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isnât platonic at all.
The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.
Itâs a lot to digest, and part of him still doesnât even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robinâs two-bedroom apartment, and just⊠the way Eddie looks at him?
Itâs with loveâSteve can see it. Feel it. Eddieâs practically vibrating with it.
Whatâs even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.
Itâs like looking at the stars. Steveâs heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smileâno, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddieâs adamâs apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. Itâs downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where itâs all consuming.
Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.
No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think itâs going to be too heavy for him to process that heâs into dudes now, but Steve isnât a big dumb baby. Sure, heâs got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember peopleâs names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isnât a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. Heâs working on it, dammit.
And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. Heâs clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steveâs hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.
Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way heâs there with him through his recovery, that he doesnât ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartmentâhe doesnât care about that of that.
Because heâs in love with Steve. Itâs so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steveâs throat every time he thinks too much about it.
The two of them are driving to one of Steveâs therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.
Heâs just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that thereâs a light at the end of this tunnel that theyâre both currently lost in.
âIâm sorry about this, yâknow.â Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has âBrain Injury Recover Centerâ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.
âDonât worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.â Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if heâs had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. Heâs gone a few times. Not to bowl, of courseâtoo much hand eye coordination involvedâbut just to hang out with Eddie. Heâs pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.
Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because thereâs been a lull where no oneâs spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. âI donât mean about the drive. I was talking about⊠yâknow.â
âWhaâdyâmean?â Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steveâs headrest.
Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: âI mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just⊠that must be really tough.â
Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where heâs turned to ignition off.
Itâs sort of unnervingâEddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now itâs like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.
Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddieâs arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, âitâs okay, Eddie. I know. You donât have to keep going easy on me. Iâm gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.â Steve shrugs, âsee? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You donât need to keep babying me.â
The side of Eddieâs mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.
âI know, I know. Not just any dude.â Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddieâs hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddieâs proud of him for being so cool with it all. âIn love with you.â
âSteve, I donât thinkâ
âWait, just let me finish.â Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows itâs important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. âI know that I donât remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, yâknow, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like youâre cheating on the old Steve with me? But⊠Eddie, I know itâs crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didnât. I look at you, and itâs all there. Iâm still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I donât remember how I got here. Iâm in lââ
âSteve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shitâ!â Eddieâs eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. âSteveââ
âYeah?â Steve prompts when Eddie doesnât seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddieâs knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if itâs some kind of muscle memory.
Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.
âSteve. Buddy. Weâre⊠weâre not dating.â
Steveâs face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddieâs warm hand in his own. âYeah, I know, I know. We havenât had any time to be a couple. And itâs probably been torture for you, man. Youâre so busy taking care of me and making sure I donât freak out over everything that youâve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.â
Eddie raises a brow.
Steve chuckles, âShut up. Itâs a therapy term.â
Eddie laughs in his throat. âSteve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.â
He turns his shoulders so that heâs fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. âGot your hearing ears on?â
Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.
âWe⊠we werenât dating before your accident,â Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. âHell, I didnât even know you were, yâknow, into dudes like that. Much less me.â
Something throbs dully behind Steveâs eyes. Itâs the start of a migraineâthe one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddieâs saying. ââŠyouâre not my boyfriend?â
Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. âNo.â
Steve snatches his hand back like heâs only just now noticed how burning hot Eddieâs hand is.
He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of⊠Made up. Just like everything heâd imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.
He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happenâŠ
âAre you sure?â Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasnât taken his eyes off him for a second.
âPretty fuckinâ sure.â Eddie snorts.
âOh, God. This is⊠Iâmâsorry. Iâm so stupid. Fuck, I gottaââ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!
âSteve, itâs okay, dude,â Eddie says from behind Steve, but thatâs easy for him to say; he didnât just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friendââSteve, wait!â
Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.
#part 2???đ#update: okay yes definitely a part 2#please let let know if you want to be added to the tag list for part 2!âĄÌ#now part 3#this has been in my WIPs for so long#steddie#TW: brain damage#concussed Steve Harrington#Eddie Munson#angst#because i love to torture these boys#Steve Harrington#hurt/comfort#write Rae write#my writing#stranger things#Steve Harrington has brain damage#stranger things fic#Steddie fic#Steddie ficlet#cliff hanger#Iâm so sorry#Steve Harrington whump#Eddie x Steve#Steve x Eddie#stranger things ficlet#recovery fic#disabled Steve Harrington
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summary: after the scene where ward drops rafe at barryâs and tells him to not come home but barryâs sister pogue!reader tries to comfort him even though rafe is soo mean to her like woah but itâs a happy ending
tw: mention of drugs, idk rafe cries a lot, parental issues, rafe calls reader kid and bitch once
word count: 762
âdonât come home, son,â ward says, his voice cold and final, as he walks away from his only son.
âwhere do you want me to go?â
âdad! dad!â rafeâs desperate calls echo into the night, but ward doesnât look back, leaving rafe alone in the darkness in front of barryâs and your house.
âhey, barry, open the fuckin door! i know you got the coke, dude, come on. please just open up!â heâs begging on the verge of tears. âbarry, if you donât open this god damn door, iâll fucking smash it down myself. i need coke, man!â
you slowly open the door, and before he even sees you, rafe shoves his way inside, causing you to stumble back slightly. he collapses onto the couch, his movements frantic and erratic. âbarry, what took you so long? christ, give me your best coke. i need that shit now, dudeâ he demands, his voice thick with barely-contained emotion. when he finally looks up and sees you instead of barry, he quickly swipes at the tears streaming down his face, trying to hide his vulnerability.
âoh, hi, rafe! sorry, i had my headphones on. wanna listen? oh my god, are you crying?â you ask, your voice laced with genuine concern.
âno, jesus fuck, y/n, whereâs your brother?â
âoh, um, i think heâs down by the shipyards doing a deal. sorry, rafey,â you say, offering a gentle smile.
rafe pulls himself up quickly, furiously searching for the drugs he so desperately craves. âwhereâs his coke? i know you know where he keeps it. go find it. donât just stand there helplessly. youâre so goddamn stupid! fuck!â
âwhy are you being mean to me? youâre never mean to me⊠i donât know where barry keeps the coke, rafe.â
he yells at the top of his lungs, âitâs like you have no fuckin brain. youâre just a useless dumb blonde.â (sorry iâm blonde)
the harsh words cut through you, and you canât bear his anger. you turn and flee to your room, tears pricking your waterline, blurring your vision as you go.
your whole teenage years, you knew rafe as your older brotherâs richest client, who he secretly would rip off. but as the years went by, he started buying barryâs more hardcore drugs, not just weed. you got to know rafe more as barryâs regular client. he would constantly stick around, always flirting with you and bringing you gifts when barry wasnât looking.
ây/n, donât shut me out. donât be a bitch, come on, open the door. i need the coke. you donât understand, help me here, okay,â he pleads.
youâre scared. youâve never seen him like this; heâs always treated you like a princess. you yell as he bangs at your thin bedroom door, pushing the wood so hard it starts to crack. âgo home, rafe!â your voice shaky and filled with fear.
the banging stops suddenly, your words echoing in the sudden silence. the quiet stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. cautiously, you peek out of your bedroom door thinking maybe he finally listened to your advice. ârafe, you there?â you call out.
heâs sitting on your couch, tears running down his face, hyperventilating. âi canât go home. iâm a liar, an addict, a thief, and i canât be trusted, so my dad said he canât have me in his house. i have nowhere to go.â
you slowly approach the couch where rafe sits, his face hidden in his hands. his body is shaking, and the room is filled with the sound of his ragged breaths. ârafeâŠâ you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to offer some comfort. âyou, um, can stay here tonight.â
he looks up at you, his eyes red and desperate, filled with a depth of pain youâve never seen in him before. âi donât deserve you, kid. fuck, iâm so sorry. i never wanted you to see me like this. i thought i had everything under control, but now you probably hate me or some shitâŠâ
you sit beside him, offering a soft, reassuring smile. you put your hand in his. âitâs okay rafey. i could never hate you. we all have moments when shit falls apart. it doesnât change how i see you. youâre tired. iâll set up the couch for you.â
rafeâs eyes search yours, a flicker of regret softening his expression. âi didnât mean to take it out on you,â he says, his voice low and raw. âi just⊠i donât want to be alone. yâknow, on the couch. not tonight.â the words hang in the air, heavy with his unspoken need to hold you tonight.
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#outer banks#rafe x reader#amandabthinks#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe fanfiction#outer banks pogues#rafe obx#rafe imagine#rafe x you#rafe drabble#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron and reader#rafe fluff#drew starkey fanfiction#rafe cameron concepts#rafe headcanons#rafe cameron coded#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x oc
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https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cz3vEYss15I/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== (SFW LINK!)
Okay but imagine Eddie having a secret talent for card tricks like this if he ever did this to me imma jump his bones on the spot đâ
Eddie: *shows card trick* impressed?
Still Eddie: âŠ. Wait why are you looking at me like that? đł
(Eddie screaming like a banshee in mere seconds after tackling him)
GOD HE WOULD, he so would oh my god, heâs such a nerd i hate him
ââââ
he would be so confused when youâre immediately all over him, pawing at him and tugging at the jawstring of his sweats, pulling his soft dick out as you mouth at his neck.
âwoah, princess. whatâs your deal, huh?â you lean back to look at him as you languidly stroke his cock, nuzzling against his hand when he reaches up to push your hair back. you frown, because itâs stupid and you canât believe fucking card tricks sent you into a goddamn heat.
âthe⊠the cards.â you mumble.
eddie raises an eyebrow, âthe cards?â and you groan, dropping your head to softly thump against his shoulder, âplease donât make me admit it, eds.â you grumble into his shirt.
you swipe your thumb over his tip, his cock now alert and slowly filling out with excitement from your touch, and eddie hisses, hips bucking up against your hand. he breathlessly chuckles, âiâm a little confused, babe.â
you roll your eyes, pulling back to look at him again, âthe card tricks were hot, eddie.â
and eddie almost laughs, he almost does, but then your squeezing his cock and fuckâ the cards go falling to the ground in a white flurry, scattering all across the living room floor just like eddieâs fucking brain.
and sure eddie might be annoyed that he has to pick up all those cards, and heâs gonna be even more pissed off when he counts the cards and realizes heâs lost a few of them to the void that is the space under his couchâ but shit, he canât seem to find a reason to care because now youâre sinking down to your kneesâ and jesus christ, eddieâs gonna learn more card tricks after this.
#he can shuffle my cards anytime#and i donât mean the ones that come in a deckđźâđšđ©#<<< âthat made no sense BUT THE VISION IS THERE#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#drabble
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GETAWAY CAR â rockstar!e.m. x f!reader
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7cdc9ddc754821b932a6c22a433ffaed/1099fbbe599dc546-50/s540x810/f7d37424ad2e86ac1a75fc684a64f40bd95e1ad2.jpg)
CHAPTER EIGHT: MADE YOUR MARK ON ME
â prev chapter // next chapter â
⊠summary: in which you and eddie try to navigate the aftermath of the kiss (wc: 5.8k+)
⊠warnings â angst, ANGST, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF n then angst oops, a little bit of argument but v tiny, uhmmm smut, p in v, unprotected sx (wrap it up irl), lots of praises, kinda rough. body worshipping? idk. eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, thats it i think.
⊠pairings â rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader
⊠authors note â @andvys my angel thank u for all ur love & helpđđđ» not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. i honestly have a love-hate relationship w this chapter BUT ENJOY!!. also like... ily all for all the love on the last chapter omg?
anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series, pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for readingđ
series masterlist | series playlist
Minutes.
But it felt like hours.Â
And you didnât want it to be over.
Judging by the hold he had on you, calloused hands grabbing onto your flesh like a man-starved, neither did he.Â
This was all he ever wanted. Ever since the day you flagged him over when your car broke down. Even when you were a bitch to him. Even when you rolled your pretty eyes at him. Even when you left him. All he fucking wanted was you. Â
Always just out of his grasp, close but never close enough. And this? This was a dream come true. Fucking explosions and butterflies in your stomach type of shit that Eddie always mocked, that you always mocked.Â
That scar in his heart that scabbed at the mention of you. Healed. All gone. One kiss from you and it was all back to normal.Â
âEddie!â A booming yell echoed in everyone elseâs ears but you.
âJesus fucking Christ, I swear Iâm gonna kill him, Eddie where the fuck are you?âÂ
Was that⊠Gareth?Â
If Gareth fucking ruined this for him, he was going to hang him by his balls, up on the wall, make sure he could never fuckingâ
âEddie!â
And you pulled away, first, Eddie was going to fucking kill him now. A vivid torture method flashed across his mind. Even the adorable flustered look on your face as you drew a breath wasnât enough to calm him down.Â
âIâI think your set is about to-â
âFuck the set,â Eddie spat, his veins still pumping with the need for you. Brain hazy, he was never going to get enough of you, was he? A hunger that was never going to be sated.Â
The lingering gaze was interrupted by Gareth, scoffing while he dragged Eddie away, ignoring the threats and the cusses that left his lips, the same gentle ones that were just stuck on yours, the sweetest taste, from the filthiest mouth.Â
You really needed to shut your goddamn brain up. But how could you?Â
His body was turned toward you, shirt stretched outâyou did have a tight hold on him. Pale lips now a bit shiny from your candy gloss, stretched into the widest grin, eyes glinting with something youâve never seen in him before. You couldnât quite put your finger on it.
But it was beautiful. He was pretty. Tempting.Â
-
You could barely comprehend Eddieâs words when his gaze on you was that striking. âWeâre Corroded Coffin, thank you and goodnight.â Slipped past your ears, you didnât care, you needed him.Â
What happens now?
Lingered in your mind, you wanted him to rush to you like youâre in a fucking rom-com, lock your lips in a dizzying kiss, again, you didnât fucking care. You wanted more. You needed more.Â
You could feel the eyes of everyone, including Steveâs impatient nail-biting, dying to know what the fuck happened between the two of you. Yet they didnât dare to ask you until Jonathan and Nancy had left since the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow. And ever since they were gone, Robin and Steve had been teasing you nonstop, trying to make you crack.
Clearly, something had gone down, and the co-dependent idiots had to know.Â
âHe looks like heâs going to eat you.â Steve hummed, making you roll your eyes at him.
You were about to give him a smart-ass answer, but of course, he didnât let you. âI bet if I laid one hand on you, heâd end up here in seconds.â Steve barked out a laugh, Robin joining him as you threw them a dead-set glare.
âItâs not like thatâwe havenâtâhe wonât.â Your frustration was interrupted by a grinning Steve.
âOh, yeah?â Steve teased, his hand quick to brush away the strand of hair away from your face, fingertips gently brushing against your cheeks, making heat flutter to your cheeks.
âSteve!â you protested, your gaze widening as you chided him, while Robin playfully counted down from ten by your other side.
Steve ignored your protests, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a side hug. You attempted to push him off with a scoff, but he was relentless.Â
âThree⊠TwoâŠâ Robin's counting came to a halt, and your childish squabble with Steve ceased as a deep voice interrupted.
âMind if I borrow her for a bit?â The metalheadâs gravelly voice cut through the air, his gaze shooting daggers at Steve, who only smirked, much to Eddie's obvious dismay.
âEight seconds,â Steve murmured in your ear, you could almost feel his stupid smirk forming on your ear shell, prompting a huff from you.
âSheâs all yours, man,â Steve chuckled, releasing his hold and retreating with Robin, leaving the two of you alone. Eddie scoffed at Steve's retreating figure before turning his attention to you.Â
âWhatâs their damage?â His brows scrunched together as he watched Steve and Robin walk away, engrossed in their hushed gossip.Â
âDo you have all day?â You asked with a roll of your eyes, earning a chuckle from him.
He liked this, he loved this, he missed this. Easy banter, shared laughter.Â
âSo⊠you goinâ home?â Eddie asked, nonchalant, like his heart wasnât thumping in his chest each time you stole a glance at him.
You nodded, keeping it simple, almost avoiding his gaze. His exaggerated reaction, a spat-out âWhat?â made you giggle. A melody he could never have enough of.
âWell, the nightâs almost over, soâŠâ
âCome with me,â He muttered, amber gaze like silk as it connected with yours.
âWhere?âÂ
âMi casa es yours or whatever the saying goes.â He grinned.
With a huff, âYeah, I donât think thatâs a good idea,â you muttered.
âWhy?â
âYou know why.â You enunciated.
He raised a brow, âEnlighten me.â
âIâItâs late.â Â
âSo? That never stopped us before.â He shrugged, seemingly unfazed.
âOh, câmon Pinky,â he coaxed, âwe never end nights this early, at least not until weâre a couple more joints in, smushed on the couch, putting on some old horror movie⊠I thought we were revisiting the past.â He hummed, puppy dog eyes staring at your soul. Shit.Â
You shouldnât. You fucking shouldnât.
âAre you really gonna say no to gettinâ high with me, sweetheart?â
Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.
A nickname you had heard so many times before. Yet, it was different, the way it rolled off his lips making you almost jump in place.
âOkay,â you gulped, physically. Fuck.
He grinned, taking you by hand, fuck all, while you waved a shy goodbye to Robin and Steve, who watched it all with an all-knowing grin.
âPay up,â Steve turned to Robin with his palm in front of her.
Robin snorted, âNo fucking way.â
âTrust the process, Robin. Trust the fucking process.â Steve huffed, watching the two of you leave hand-in-hand.
-
As the two of you entered the familiar house, the sight of it brought enough memories that made you feel light-headed, a repository of memories flooded in your mind.Â
âIs Wayne around?â you inquired, breaking the silence that clung to the space. Eddie, leading the way, answered nonchalantly, âNah. At his girlfriendâs.â
Your eyes widened. âWait what? Wayne has a girlfriend?â You exclaimed.
âUh-huh, Hannah.âÂ
âOh! Thatâs great!âÂ
âYeah, heâs having sleepovers with her like a fucking teenager, I told him to ask her to move in, but heâs too chicken shit,â he scoffed.Â
âOh, come on.â You elbowed him playfully, âBe nice to him, he deserves this,â you said with a smile.
He nodded in agreement, âHe does.â Then turned to you. âYou want anything to drink?â You shook your head.Â
You didnât know why, and you didnât know how, but a shyness appeared within you, propping up your elbows as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him intently.Â
With a shrug, he opened the fridge, taking out a Schlitz, gaze on you dangerous when he popped it open with his teeth, barking a chuckle when you squirmed at the sudden, sharp sound.Â
âFidgety much?â He grinned, that damn dimple taking its place on the corner of his mouth, making all sorts of warmth flush to your cheeks, making you feel so timid under his gaze.Â
You could sense the cockiness radiating off of him, it was addicting, and it was making you feel more and more shy under him. Because both of you knew why you were here, at two fucking A.M., dismissing everyone else, flirting and bickering all the way home.Â
Yet, since you entered the familiar trailer, you had been silent. Because you knew, you fucking knew that kiss changed everything. But this would seal it. Another step forward. A territory the two of you had never crossed before.Â
And your mind was not being kind to you, screaming at you to stop, to run, to not fucking do this, because youâd end up hurt, because someway somehow heâd end up hurting too, but Eddie wasnât having any of it.Â
Your silence made him cockier and cockier, drawing you in more and more. And if he kept it up, you knew even your idiotic abandonment issues wouldnât be enough to stop you from jumping on him.Â
You wanted this, all your mind could replay was his fingers on that damn guitar, the way his mouth popped open that damn can of beer, the way his stupid plushy lips curled into a smirk. Shaggy bangs fell onto his forehead when he leaned on the counter, arms flexing with it.Â
Stop fucking thinking about it.
âYou gonna answer me or what, sweetheart?â
âHuh?â
âJesus, you okay?â He asked, concerned, cornering you in the kitchen with his soft hazel eyes.Â
Fuck.Â
âMhmm,â you hummed.
âYou donât seem okay.â
ââM f-fine!â You answered too quickly and meekly for that to be the truth.Â
âDonât tell me youâre still mad at me.â
Yes. No. Yes. No. I think I crave you more than Iâm mad at you, but I canât let you know that, your thoughts swirled.Â
âI thoughtââ
You interrupted all quippily, âThought what? That kissing me would suddenly undo everything?â
âNoâŠâ He sighed, âI thought I proved myself to you.â
âYou did, but that doesnât undo it.âÂ
âWell, I forgave you.â
You scoffed. âYou know forgiving me doesnât mean shit if you bring it up every time I tell you you did something wrong, right?â
Crossing his arms against his chest, âCan you blame me?â He muttered, almost defeated.Â
âWhat would you do? If I up and left, would you just forgive me? Would you just trust me and act like it was all okay?â He tensed, words spilling out of his mouth like venom.Â
And you narrowed your gaze, returning it back to him. âWhat would you do if I kissed Jason? I asked you that, yet you never answered. Would you still kiss me? Would you still write notes for me, knowing that Jasonâs slimy lips were brushingââ
He was quick to wave his hands in front of your face, grimacing just at the thought. âStop! Just fucking stop!â
âWhat, too much for you?â You spat.
âOf course, itâs too much for me! Tâthe thought of him, anyone, being with you⊠makes me sick to my stomach.â
âGood, then I think weâre even!â You suggested.
âEven?â He scoffed, âIs that all you fuckinâ care about?â He retorted, making you huff, once again.
âGod, no! I justâI just mean we both did fucked up shit and from this point on we either move on, or we never talk to each other again, which we canât seem to do!â You snapped, that anger from before had disappeared though, the kiss had softened things. Softened you.Â
âOkay, then letâs just move on!â He took a step toward you, getting close again. So fucking close.Â
You took a step back, your back hitting the marble counter, yet you remained on your angry stance. âFine by me!â You retorted, all hastily.Â
âThatâs fine by me too!â He agreed, towering over you, trying to one-up you.Â
âGood!â And, of fucking course you returned the energy. Stubbornness is exactly what defined the two of you, babbling like a bunch of kids over nothing.Â
Eddie didnât hesitate to take another step toward you, this time, both his hands on the marble kitchen counter, fully cornering you, as he grinned. âGreat!âÂ
And you were about to answer, about to one-up him, like he did with you⊠but then you looked at him, really looked at him.
Looked at how fucking close he was to you, and you shuddered a deep breath, getting caught up in your throat when it reminded you of the kiss.
And thatâs when Eddie realized it.Â
You werenât really mad at him.Â
At least not really, not since the kiss.
You were nervous⊠because he was standing this close to you.Â
A piece of dangerous information for Eddieâsomeone who had been in love with you since you were teens, to acquire, because itâd turn him into an arrogant fuck in a matter of secondsâeven more so than he ever was.
âOh.â The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, he was grinning like a devil now.Â
âWhat?â You furrowed your brows, trying to have that annoyed stance from before, but it wasnât working.Â
âWhy are you looking at me likeââ
He was quick to interrupt, face inches away from yours. âYouâre not mad, at least not that much, youâre⊠nervous.â He grinned.
âNânervous? Why would I be nervous?â
âBecause of me.â That stupid smirk on his lips returned
âDonât be ridiculousââ
âWhat happened to that Pinky who refused to talk to me today? Who told me we couldnât do this? Did one kiss soften you up this much?â He quipped, making you scoff.
âYou know what? Youâre an asshole.â You sneered.
âThere she is.â
âWhen did you become this cocky, Munson?â You narrowed your gaze.
âI was always an arrogant fuck, sweetheart. But Iâd say the kiss helped, like a fuck ton, and you squirming now, too.â He shrugged, like what he just said was no big deal, like how close he was to you didnât make you gulp nervously.
You almost gasped, offended, like it wasnât the truth. âIâm not fucking squirmingââ
âLook at you⊠shuddering a breath just because Iâm this close to you.â He barked out a chuckle, gaze dangerous, dare you say⊠lustful.
âFuck you,â You spat, feeling small under his bashful gaze, cheeks heating.
âWell, Iâm trying sweetheart,â He was quick, you had to give him that, making heat grow everywhere in your body, but especially within your thighs now, fuck, he was smooth.
And you werenât willing to put up a fight, or a front, you wantedâneeded him. You couldnât deny yourself him any longer, not even your commitment issues were enough to hold you off.Â
âYouâre sâsuch a little shit,â You stuttered, embarrassingly so.Â
God, you wanted to wipe his smirk off by kissing him, you wanted to feel his honey-flavored lips on yours again, you wanted to feel his lips twitch against yours instead of the air.
And he was close again, all in your face, all you had to do was lean a little bit and his lips would be on yours.
âAnd youâre an absolute pain in myââÂ
Fuck it.Â
You fisted his stupid shirt, crashing your lips down to his, dizzying, just as magnetic as before, but needier. His lips still tasted the sweetest, yet mixed with the bitter taste of the beer on his tongue made you grow weak in the knees.Â
You were about to open your mouth fully, to feel his greedy tongue on yours, but much to your surprise, Eddie pulled away, making you whine.
âWaitââ He faltered.
âWhat?â
âDo you want this?â He asked
âYes!â Your voice raised an octave.
âTell me you want this.â His gaze was serious.
âI do,â you breathed.
He scoffed. âNo, I wanna hear you say it.â
âEddieââÂ
âI wanna hear you, or we can just pretend like none of it happened, I can forget the kiss we can just sit around here andââÂ
I want to know if youâre in this as much as I am, is what he meant.
âJesus youâre so fuckingââ You scoffed, but he actually backed away, your eyes widening at him.
âWâwait!â You pleaded.
An awaiting grin sat on his lips and you rolled your eyes at him.Â
âOf course I want this, Eddie. Iâve wanted you for five fucking years, I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on youâokay wait maybe thatâs a lie because you really were annoying the first time we met but I wanted, no, I want youââ
His mouth crashed against yours, interrupting you in the best fucking way. His lips felt warm, hot almost. Skin burning everywhere where he touched you, leaving goosebumps in its wake.Â
âSo eager, princess, already begging for me, hmm?â He taunted, making you roll your eyes in an instant.Â
âJust shut up you, asshole.â He grinned, mouth crashing down on yours once again. Much more gentle this time, but rough enough to have your chests pressed together.Â
His lips only left yours to be reattached to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from your chin to your cheekbone. ââM sorry, sweetheart, I just can help myself youâre soââ He mumbled, voice muffled by your skin.Â
He lifted you up, strong hands meeting behind your waist in one harsh move, making you yelp before you wrapped your legs around him, he kissed you like he never had before, all teeth, and no mercy, passionate yet still gentle in somefucking way.Â
He pivoted while trying to get to his bedroom, making you chuckle into the kiss, pining you against the wall, and it was all so desperate and messy. And just so you.Â
You wanted to discard your dress but he wanted to rip it off, wanted to grab onto your flesh, and feel you, completely. Drink you in.Â
He stumbled inside his room, knocking over a few boxes, and sending them over to the other side of his room. Not that either of you cared enough to break the kiss, at least until Eddie plopped you down on the bed, a grin overtaking his lips at the sight of you.Â
âYouâre so pretty, so fucking beautiful and justââ He took a deep breath, words were failing him, his entire being captivated by you.Â
His mind was spiraling, cheeks almost a salmon pink. Eddie had sex countless times before, but none of them meant anything. None of them left him this speechless, none of them made him nervous. It was like his first time, the way his breath got caught in his throat, cock stirring at how pretty you looked, stomach fluttering at how he was on top of you.Â
âYou have no idea how long I wanted to do this. How long Iâve wanted you⊠How perfect you really are.â He towered above you, and your breaths mingled, bodies tied, chests pressed against one another.Â
You wanted to joke around and tease him like he did with you, but you couldnât help the flutters in your stomach. All you cared about was whether he thought if all of that was. Did he really see you like that?
âYou mean that?â You asked, almost shy, wanting to hide your face, but he just gave you a scoff, like it was the most unbelievable thing ever.
It was to him.Â
ââCourse I do, Jesus, Pinky I basically worshippedââ He placed a soft kiss on your lips. âThe ground you walked on.â
You drew in a breath, âIâI wanted you just as much.â
âFuck, sweetheart,â he groaned.Â
âDonât say things like that,â he warned, shaking his head. Did you not know the hold you had on him? Even still? He was wrapped around your finger, always has been. Always would be.Â
âDonât think Iâll be able to control myself.âÂ
âThen, donât, please, Eddie, I want you, more than anything.âÂ
That was all he needed, low grunts escaped his lips. He attacked your lips hungrily, desperately, twirling his tongue with yours, needy and passionate.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â he cursed, hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your dress, and you helped him get rid of his clothes, your fingers fiddling as they struggled to take his shirt over his head.Â
It was all messy, stupidly impatient, making both of you giggle while you struggled to get rid of the clothes that were keeping both of your bodies away from each other.Â
âSo impatient,â you mocked with a chuckle, enjoying the way his eyes boggled your body, it wasnât disrespectful, you didnât feel the intrusion as you did with every other fucking guy youâve been with. Just pure appreciation and your stomach flipped with excitement.Â
Fuck, what was he doing to you?Â
He drew in a breath when your chest rose up and down, he felt like he was watching a ping-pong match, eyes darting over to every part of your body, he wanted to engrave it in his mind. Have you there forever.Â
He could barely comprehend it, you, stark naked, on his bed. Telling him you wanted him, more than anything. And you looked perfect. Fucking perfect. More than he could ever imagine. All those years he spent thinking about you.Â
The girls he fucked were always a spitting image of you. It wasnât a fucking coincidence. He couldnât get his mind off of you. You made him feel out of his head, and fucking finally, it was happening.Â
Cold rings ghosted over your chest, making you gasp. âSoââ His head dove into your breasts, latching his tongue on one nipple. âFuckingââ His hand dove down to your panties, discarding them without care before he ghosted over your slit, still waiting for some approval from you. âPerfectââ He hummed, against your nipples, making you mewl.Â
âPâplease, Eddie,â you muttered, pathetically.Â
His eyes shot up at you, amber gaze dark, wanting, needing you to tell him exactly what you needed. âNeed you to fuck me, please.â
âBaby,â he rasped, jaw almost hung open with how forward you were being. His cock was trapped in his boxers, needing room with the way words fell like silk from your lips. The nicknames were new, especially something like âbabyâ but it felt so familiar, like the two of you had always been like this. Like the last five years didnât exist.
This was all the confirmation he needed, his ringed finger met your entrance, and you whimpered at the slight sensation, your entire body burned with need at his one touch.Â
His soft lips trailed down from your chest to your belly button, tongue leaving nice strokes on his way to your pussy, making you arch your back in desperation.Â
âNeed more, Eddie,â you whined, a pout apparent on your cheeks.
âThat desperate, huh?â He grinned, pad of his thumb still toying with your clit, earning gasps out of you. âHavenât even done much, yet youâre soakinâ my fingers, baby,â he added, that taunting tone making you roll your eyes.
âArrogant fuck,â your voice came out as a squeak, making him let out a greedy chuckle.Â
He inserted a finger inside of you, enjoying the gasps he earned. âYou know, I always thought that attitude of yours needed a fix?â He hissed, ringed finger curling inside of you, making you squirm at the coldness as you bucked your hips for more.Â
You didnât know what took over you, or him. The dirty talk just rolled out of your lips like it was natural like the two of you had been together for the longest time.Â
It was all the pining, anticipation, and the pent-up desire. And it was making both of you needier by the second.Â
âThen do it, fuck it out of me.â A low groan echoed in the bedroom, followed by a string of curses, Eddieâs entire body shuddering with it.Â
His fingers left your clit, hands working their way to slip out of his boxers, a rough expulsion of moan released from his lips when his cock plopped against his stomach, making your mouth water at the sight.Â
Shit, fuck, shit.Â
You gulped, jaw almost wide open, making him cockier if that was even possible. His hands jerked at his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum collected at his hot tip. âGonna give this to you, is that what you want, sweetheart?â He taunted.
With a nod, you licked your lips, making his cock twitch in his hands. âIâll fuck the brat out of you, donât worry, honey.â His hand was about to stroke his cock again, but you were quick to shake your head.Â
âLet me help,â you hummed, your smile and attitude all disappearing, a glazed look washed over your features as your soft hands fisted his length.Â
âYouâre gonna be the fuckinâ death of me,â he groaned roughly when your fingers stroked his rock-hard cock, until he couldnât take it anymore and pushed you down on the bed and taking you by surprise before his lips re-attached to yours, hands slightly parted your thighs, teeth clashed together, and nibbling on each other's lips, before he finally, finally guided his cock against your entrance.Â
Then, he stopped, making you furrow your brows when he reached for his bedside table, and you, unable to wait, were quick to stop him. âNo!â His attention snapped back to you.Â
âPlease⊠I wanna feel you, âm on the pill,â you murmured, pupils blown wide, making Eddie curse once again before he blabbed, nervousness spilling out of him.Â
âOâokay,â He hummed, turning to you with a nervous look, âand just so you know I havenât hadââ Shit, he was going to ruin this.Â
âI was tested not too long ago and me and Chrââ
âIf you finish that sentence I swear to god, I will leave, Munson,â you warned, gaze narrowed and jealousy bitter in your veins.Â
He scoffed, âI was going to say we havenât done aâanything, you lunatic,â he wanted to joke, but words rolled out of his lips like a quick ramble. He couldnât fucking ruin this. But, he had to let you know. You had to know that they didnât sleep together.
And much to his surprise, with a grin on your lips, âOh? I donât know if I can say the same with me and Jameââ your joke was quickly shut up by a dizzying kiss, and his groan turned into a growl, filled with jealousy, making you giggle into the kiss.
Both of you were idiots. Total fucking idiots. Insane. Crazy. But, fuck, did it feel right, like dominos falling into place, this is what it shouldâve been.Â
He dragged you more toward the edge of the bed with his rough hands, finally guiding his cock to your entrance, wiping off that grin from your face, hunger taking over fully.Â
âYou think youâre funny?â He spat, and you nodded all sassily, âLaugh it up, doll. But once Iâm done with you, you wonât even remember the names of those other douchebags, Iâll fuckinâ make sure of it.â His arrogance was back, and that smirk played on his lips, shutting you up once again.Â
He pushed into you without a warning, making you cry out while your eyes squeezed shut at how good he felt. Your pussy wrapped his cock nicely, so warm and tight that Eddie had no fucking idea how he didnât cum right then and there on the spot, a low groan escaped his lips.Â
He dropped his head to your shoulder, frantic breathing escaped through his nose as he tried to adjust to how tight you were.Â
Jesus, fucking Christ.Â
He had to hold himself off.Â
Your hands clawed at his back, enjoying the stretch while Eddie pushed himself inside of you at a slow pace, reveling in the way you mewled for him.Â
Eyes already squeezed shut, mouth slightly open, lashes fluttering the more he drove his cock into you. You looked so beautiful. Ethereal.Â
He was struggling to comprehend if this was all real. This entire fucking night. From the fight to the kiss to now.Â
It was always back and forth between the two of you, but more real than anything he ever had.Â
Pinky.Â
His Pinky.Â
He loved you, so so much, that his heart was about to explode, his body felt hot from everywhere you were touching him.Â
âGod, youâre so fuckinâ tight, sweetheart,â he hissed, pace picking up once you finally accommodated his size, eyes rolling to the back of your head.Â
âFeels sâso good, Eds,â you whimpered. He caught your chin in his hands, tilting your face toward him, making your fuzzy gaze focus on him. âIâve wanted this for so long. You, wanted you for so long, shit, honey.âÂ
âTell meâŠâ He muttered, licking the trail to your boobs, sucking on it with a growl. âTell me that this changes everything. Tell me that weâll never go back, and Iâll fuck you like you deserve it.âÂ
âEâEddie,â you stuttered, still struggling to comprehend it when his cock was hitting spots inside of you that you didnât know existed.Â
âIâŠâ You sucked in a deep breath, mind feeling mushy before Eddie groaned, tucking his hips back, pulling out of your warm pussy as you gasped at the feeling, just as you were about to whine, beg, he rammed himself deep inside of you, again. A grin appeared on his lips when you cried out in pleasure.Â
Yet, his movements halted, as if he was giving you a taste of what might happen, and you wanted to cuss him out, tell him to never fucking stop again, cry out, beg for him to continue. Your body felt woozy with how much you needed him to fuck you, how much you desperately needed to cum.Â
âEverything!â You cried out frantically, âEâEddie, fuck, I dâdonât ever wanna go back, pleaseâŠâ
That was all he needed to hear. And he simply couldnât wait any longer, deprive his body of you any fucking longer. His movements picked up with a low grunt, fucking into you roughly and fast, all animalistic as he held onto your hips, leaving bruises all over while he worked on your neck, sucking, marking you.Â
Pleasure bursted through your body as Eddieâs thick cock dragged along your walls. Both of your eyes locked, emotions gathering in them. Panting as your foreheads connected, thinking the same thing.Â
Those three little words begged to roll out of both of your plushy lips, yet too scared to ever utter them. His lips crashed down on you again, this time, just so that those three words didnât escape his mouth, kissing you with such passion that your head grew light.Â
âPretty girl,â he breathed into your neck, âmy pretty girl,â he growled. His cock was driven by a primal need to make you his, every touch meant something, every time he thrust himself into you, it was deliberate, rough, but gentle in some fucking way.Â
Shallow breaths escaped your mouths in puffs, as you watched him drive his cock all the way into you, and you tightened up almost immediately, your pussy pulsing around him.
He groaned at the sight of you, mouth hung open, tits bouncing up and down, mewls coming out for him. You looked fucking beautiful, babbling to him about how you were going to cum soon.Â
He pressed his middle finger to your clit, drawing quick circles as you whined for him, he was fucking good, and you could feel your walls swelling as you yelled out his name.Â
Your screams were muffled by Eddieâs lips as a wave of pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks and the second you came undone on his cock, he fucking lost it. His groans grew guttural as he spilled his load inside of you, falling on top of you with a contented sigh as he made sure every drop of him was stuffed into your walls.Â
Ragged breaths filled the room as Eddie slumped next to you, and you stared at the walls, a smile curved on your lips when the drawings you gave him were still there.
âYou still have that?âÂ
âOf course.â His fingertips traced a delicate path along the canvas of your skin, gentle, and warm, pulling away that strand of hair that was hiding your pretty features, a smile formed on his lips, his gaze on you so soft that you almost melted into him. âI told you⊠your art matters, itâs the very reason, I am where I am.âÂ
As his words hung in the air, you looked up at him, and he gazed down at you. In that shared gaze, both of you knew. No words were exchanged, yet the depth of your connection bridged any gap.
Three words. Eight letters.Â
You should say it, you should tell him first. Let him know, that you love him, always have, always will. Your lips, poised in anticipation, hovered let him now, to utter those words.
But he interrupted, a subtle pull drawing you closer into the cocoon of his embrace. âWâWe should go to sleep⊠hell of a day ahead of us.â He cleared his throat, fingertips weaved through the strands of your hair, caressing it.
A day ahead of us. Us. Us. Us.
Itâs promising, so fucking promising. Peaceful. Everything you asked for. Yet, it scared you, because it was good. All of it was almost too good to be true.Â
But you wanted to shut that part of your brain off. No, because you werenât going to ruin this for yourself again, you werenât.Â
You hummed into his chest agreeingly, the vibrations resonating into his chest, his scent enveloped you, fully, completely.Â
And each gentle stroke of his fingertips through your hair was like a lullaby, making you give yourself into the security of his presence. It only took a handful of caresses for you to give into the sweet desire of sleep, nestled against his warmth.
-
You woke up next to a void spot in the bed. The morning sun burst through the lazily taped windows of Eddie's room, forcing you to squint against its intrusive rays.
A languid groan escaped your lips as you reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, lazily throwing on one of Eddieâs shirts as it hung well over your knees, making your way to the kitchen as you called out for him.
Silence greeted you.
You checked the fridge, hoping for a note, a hastily scribbled message, anything that might explain why he was gone.Â
But nothing.Â
At this point, your mind hadn't erupted into full-blown panic; there was no reason for it, or let your intrusive thoughts kick in, no, they were wrong, they had to be wrong.Â
There was no way heâd leave you, he wanted this himself. He invited you over.Â
And the two of you were supposed to go to the rehearsal dinner early. To help Jonathan and Nancy out. There was no way heâd just leave you like this.
Right?
Or maybe he regretted all of it and left in a panic.
You kept telling yourself the same lie until seconds melted into minutes, and eventually into hours.
And then, it finally dawned on you.Â
Eddie didnât leave a note because he didnât want to see you.
He regretted everything.
That's why he left you.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson series#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson angst#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#getaway car series
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The vision for this edit entered my brain, possessed my waking thoughts and wouldn't let me rest until she was realised so here I guess everybody cheer
I hated every goddamn second of learning how to make this, the only thing that felt worse than learning to edit was not working on this mediocre edit the app crashed so many times jesus christ where's that defunctland reddit post clap for the boy or I'm blowing this whole fucking building up
#if nobody claps for my special boy robby I am going to blow up this fucking building#I AM AWARE THIS IS INCREDIBLY MEDIOCRE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EDIT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SMTH ABOUT THE BOY#the valley's most tragic boy of all time everybody cheer!!#robby keene#unironically I worked real hard on this and I'm actually obsessed with it a little my ego is through the roof#cobra kai#ck#tkk#edits#editing#beginner editing
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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight
TW: NSFW, dubcon if you squint
You are laying in bed, not sleeping, feeling sorry for yourself when your phone rings on your bedside table. You donât recognize the number, so you answer with a cautious, âHello?âÂ
âHi, pretty girl.â
You pause a long beat, and not because you donât recognize the voice on the other end. âHow the ever-loving fuck did you get this number?â
Itâs Officer Tom Ludlow, of course. Just what you need, on this night from Hell.
âIâm a detective, remember?â You can just hear the self-satisfied smirk, and heâs lucky heâs not standing in front of you, because tonight you just might have slapped him.
You use your moderately adequate brain for some deductive reasoning of your own, and realize, âYou took my number from Julianâs phone. After you assaulted him.â
On the other end he lets out a long whistle. âBaby, thatâs such a strong word.â
âDo not call me baby.â
âAlright. Sweetheart.â
âGod, you are such a fucking caveman.â
âThank you.â
You sigh, too fucking tired for this shit. Your heart feels like a chewed up piece of gum, and your lady parts are pulsing angrily at you for ruining their evening earlier.
They like the sound of Tomâs deep voice in your ear, and that is so not good.
âYou okay?â
The question actually takes you aback, because the smarmy shit-eating tone is gone, and he soundsâŠserious?
âI guess. Why?â
âThat doesnât sound okay.â
âWhy do you think itâs any of your goddamned business?â
âI told you. If Dr. Bitch hurts you, it is my business.â
âHe didnât hurt me,â you grumble. In fact, he didnât really do much of anything to you. Now that more time has passed, the more annoyed you are about that.
Fuck if Detective Ludlow doesnât seem to hear that in your voice too. âOhhhh. Sounds like the Good Doctor didnât hit anything?âÂ
âOh my god. I hate you. Do you know that?â
He gives a low chuckle that absolutely goes straight to your deprived pussy, and you squirm a little in bed, so grateful he canât see you.
âYou wish you hated me.â
âIâm hanging up now.â
âDonât hang up, pretty girl. Tell me what youâre wearing.â His voice dips low, and smooth as velvet.
Every hair on your body lifts in response to this, your nipples pebbling into painful points. Bastard.
âA parka.â
âPshh. You sleep in a parka? Come on, baby.â How effective that soft, coaxing tone is at dissolving your inhibitions is alarming. You can almost see yourself, as though standing at the edge of a great abyss. If you jumpâŠthere will be no going back.Â
âFine. Iâll use my own imagination. I think youâre wearingâŠa cute little lacy negligee that just floats on your luscious curvesâŠâ
Well, you guess youâre getting a picture of what he likes.
âJesus Christ. Iâm wearing a tank top, you pervert,â you grouse, trying to shatter his fantasy. Nevermind the fact that you are now soaking wet, again.
âNice. No panties?â
âI am wearing panties.â
âYou arenât going to need âem. Do you know what Iâd do to you, after dinner, my beautiful nurse?â
âGee, I bet youâre going to fucking tell me.â
âOh come on. Weâre having fun.â
âYou are having fun.â
âBut youâre still listening.â
Well, he has you there, the smug sonofabitch.
âMaybe.â
He chuckles at the other end of the line, a low sound that makes you clench with need.
âYouâve got to answer a question for me first.â
âWhat?â
âYouâve got to dip into that sweet little pussy for me, and tell me how wet you are on the scale from one to ten.âÂ
You should rip him a new one for this. Or just hang up. Why canât you just hit the button and end this nonsense? But thenâŠyouâd be alone. Your real-time reaction is less dignified, but maybe more honest.Â
You laugh.
It starts as a giggle, then crescendos into an all out guffaw. âTomâŠyou are a nut.â
You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, and goddamn if you donât actually start to feel better. âOh come on baby, donât hold out on me. Iâve got a solid ten inches in my hand for you here.â
This makes you laugh even harder. âTen inches?!â
âOk. Maybe nine and a half.âÂ
You giggle, and you canât stop. âI donât know if I can handle all that, Officer Ludlow.â
You donât know how his voice lowers even more, as he says, âOh, I know you can take it. Donât worry, Iâll ease it in nice and slow.â
Suddenly the bubbles of laughter in your gut go flat, replaced with an aching heat that sears your insides, your clit throbbing in response to his dirty mouth. Itâs possible a kittenish little sound squeaks from the back of your throat.
You really donât know where you get the courage to ask softly, âYeah? Then what?â
âThen I would kiss all over those pretty, soft titties. I want those perfect nips in my mouth.â
You know you make a sound then, and he surely hears it. âWill you check them for me? Lick your fingers and give them a pinch.â
âYou are ridiculous.â It comes out small, and breathy, and it doesnât really sound like an insult at all. So what, if you do as he tells you? And so fucking what, if imaging itâs his hands on you makes you feverish with desire, a spear of longing throbbing in your cunt.
He doesnât answer you right away, which means heâs busy with something else. Maybe Tom is just as pent up as you are from all this edging the two of you have been putting each other through.Â
âAre you.. are you really?â You ask, hating how your voice exposes the fact that youâre not only pinching your nipples, but borderline feeling yourself up at the sound of his hiking breath.Â
âYeah, honey, I am.â
âOh,â you say, because itâs the only thing you can think of. Your cunt is screaming below about how she wants to talk to Tom Ludlow because youâre doing a shit job at it.Â
âAh, fuck. Are you doing what I told you?âÂ
âNo.â
âGood. Lick your fingers again, circle those pretty nipples for me. Close your eyes and imagine itâs my tongue. Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits so bad.âÂ
He doesnât have to know that youâre following orders. That youâre grinding on the bunched blanket between your legs while you imagine his big, rude hands playing with your tits instead of your own.
âYou listening to me, beautiful girl?â
âYeah. Donât get a big head about it.âÂ
âGood job. And too late.âÂ
âI do hate you, you know. Iâm serious.â It has no real venom; in fact, it sounds more like a term of endearment at this point.Â
He laughs. âCâmon, tell me how soaked she is.â
Sheâs flooded, is the answer. Sheâs dampening the pressed comforter, sheâs throbbing and screaming and crying and pulsing to the tempo of his black coffee voice.Â
Youâre not much for vocals when you get off. You have neighbors that already have to hear about your dreams, and the act itself seems like more business than pleasure sometimes. When you were younger, you shared a room with your two sisters, so you learned to be quiet and discreet about rubbing your pussy. That all flies out the window when you sink two fingers into your sopping cunt at Tomâs direction.Â
â10,â you hiss, straining to hit your gspot. Maybe you really do need to invest in one of those toys Sheila is always elbowing you about.
âOh, poor baby.â Your walls flutter violently at his mocking tone.Â
âI thought you were going to tell me what you would do to me after dinner?â Maybe youâre desperate, or just stupid. It doesnât really matter when all you want is to orgasm on Tomâs voice.
âThought I was? Didnât I tell you about how Iâm gonna dip into that sweet wet pussy, and play with your little clit with my thumb while I fuck you with this big cock? How do you like it, honey? Slow and deep? Fast and hard?â
You make a strangled little soundâbecause your fingers are just not enough, and it hurts. It hurts that heâs not here with you, filling you up, holding you down with those calloused hands and that filthy, insatiable, mouth.
âWhat was that?âÂ
His voice is strained, and you think youâre not the only one in pain here.
âSlow,â you answer. âAt first.â Why exactly are you handing him this ammunition? How stupid, how dangerous, to offer up the keys to your undoing? You know he will only use this information against you.
âMmm.â His breathing is labored, and the thought of him with his cock out, stroking himself to this dirty talk is almost too much to stand. Julian had you trussed and at his mercy right in front of him, but couldnât keep it up. All Tom Ludlow needs is the sound of your voice. After the night youâve had, that alone is nearly enough to make you cum.
âBut then I like it deep,â you pant. âYou think you got what it takes?â
âBaby, Iâve got everything you need.â
You are trying to be as quiet as you can, while you abuse your clit with your two middle fingers, practically holding your breath, getting high on the oxygen deprivation. Youâre too quiet, you suppose.
âDonât be shy, beautiful. Gotta let me hear it when you cum for me.â
âOr what?â you grouse. âMaybe Iâm justâŠmixing pancake batter.âÂ
His laughter is strained, and you just know heâs close. âOr youâll regret it, sweet girl. When I finally get these hands on you? Mmm Iâll make you pay. Iâll make you cum without mercy.âÂ
Again, you canât help but compare the versions of punishment to the men in your life. Julian wants to hurt you. Tom just wants to make you cum.
âFuck.â
âYeah? You there, baby?â
You try to just breathe through your nose, to not give him the satisfactionâbut you fail spectacularly.
âY/n?â He calls, singing your name and making it sound so pretty and good and special.Â
âY-yeah?â
âYou coming with me? Iâm waiting for you.â
Youâre right there, dangling over that sweet, slippery precipice that you can usually ease yourself over carefully. Tom gives you a little shove, and youâre plummeting.Â
âThatâs my girl.â He doesnât sound much better off than you while you sob from the unexpected, haywire orgasm.Â
It takes a long minute for you to come back to earth, come back to breathless Tom who isnât saying anything for once in his life.Â
That pleasant, floaty post coital bliss gets stained with shame when the clarity of who you just mutually masturbated with hits you.Â
He talks first, what a surprise. âDo you feel better?â
âNo.â But then, âa little bit.â
âAt least one of us does.â You hear him shuffling around on the other end, maybe opening a fridge. It makes you smile to think of him jerking off at his kitchen table.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Why in Godâs name are you still entertaining this conversation? You both got what you wanted, and if you stay here too long listening to his voice youâre going to be right back where you startedâready for round two.Â
âI wonât feel better until youâre mine.â He sounds humorless, which worries you in itself even without the possessive words added. âCâmon, sweet nurse, arenât you supposed to help me feel better?â Â
âI donât belong to anyone, Tom. I never will.â
âOh? Bullshit.âÂ
âIâm hanging up.âÂ
Almost as if he knows youâre full of it, or maybe he just doesnât care about talking into an empty phone line, he continues. âYouâre telling me youâve never wanted a man to take care of you? Protect you, defend you, fuck anyone up who even thinks to raise a hand or word against you?â
Honestly? Thatâs all youâve ever wanted, although youâll take that admittance to your grave. After a lifetime of taking care of other people, having someone to do that for you in return sounds like a castle in the sky. But, the thing about castles in skies? Theyâre imaginary. You pinch the bridge of your nose. âLet me guess, youâd do all that and more?â Maybe the venomous sarcasm is a little too mean.Â
He sighs as if youâre the one assaulting his date, stealing his number, and then calling to harass and annoy him. âOkay, tough girl. Get some sleep. Iâll see you tomorrow.âÂ
âNo you wonât.âÂ
âMm. Night, beautiful.âÂ
You wait for him to hang up. He doesnât. You donât, either. You feel his grin blossoming through the white noise of the line, listen to him rustle about, hear bottles clinking, water running, fabric swishing. Your eyes get heavy to the sounds of his nightly routine, lashes threatening to touch cheek.Â
His voice is void of its usual gruff when it permeates the pleasant, strange, foggy land between awake and unconscious. âBaby?â
âMm, yeah?â You try to make your mouth move properly, but the words come jumbled and slurred, weighted with exhaustion.Â
âSweet dreams.âÂ
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Way More Than Seven Sentence Sunday
Tagged by the lovely and talented @kitteneddiediaz @tizniz @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @inell @wikiangela Be sure to check their works!
IDK this has been rolling around in my brain since I first heard Casual. Sooo⩠𩮠đ đŠ·
âCâmon, Luce,â Nat teases from the driverâs seat, poking Lucyâs thigh. âI play personal taxi and canât even get a tour? Guess I need to up my game.â
Lucy rolls her eyes. Hopefully itâs more annoyed than fond. Honestly, Natalia could ask for a million things and Lucy would readily give them. At least, she wants to. She wants to want to. But that involves levels of vulnerability Lucy plans to keep locked up tighter than Diazâs Catholic guilt.
âYour gameâs fine, Dollenmeyer. Iâll show you around.â Lucy grabs her work bag and exits the car before Nat can gloat and kiss her about it.
Kinard and Thompson are chatting over coffee in the hangar, while Lee checks over the equipment in one of the birds.
âWell, if it isnât my little ray of sunshine,â Kinard chirps, flashing his stupid, dazzling lovesick smile. God, Buckleyâs got him so whipped. Sheâs happy for them but Jesus Christ. âAnd who do we have here?â
Tommy, ever the gentleman and charmer, takes Natâs offered hand. âTommy Kinard. One of Lucyâs favorite teammates,â he says with a wink.
âOh, yeah, Iâve heard about you!â
âThis is Nat. Natalia,â Lucy interjects. âWe were hanging out and she very nicely agreed to drop me off since my carâs in the shop.â
Beside her, Nat stiffens. Tommy raises an eyebrow, shooting a knowing look at Lucy.
This. This is why she tried to resist Natâs offer and insisted an Uber would be fine. Because Lucy knows sheâs fucked up. Knew she would before it happened. Whatâs worse is Tommy knows â or highly suspects â she fucked up. He was in the closet too long, and with too many shitty partners, to not see right through her. Heâs going to give her hell about this.
âUh, yeah,â Nat agrees, barely hiding the way her voice is trembling. She drops Tommyâs hand and clutches her purse tighter. âSo, uh, gonna take a raincheck on that tour. Maybe another time. Nice to meet you.â
Nat doesnât run back to the car but she may as well. She doesnât look at Lucy once. Not with anger or sadness or disappointment. Not at all. Lucy bites the inside of her cheek and watches her go despite the desperate clawing thing in her chest that wants Nat to stay. Now. Forever maybe.
She hikes her bag up on her shoulder, turning to walk toward the locker room, only to be met with Tommy still there. His arms are crossed and he doesnât look at her with any judgement. It would be better than the almost pitying, understanding expression heâs wearing.
âWhat, Kinard?â She bites out, staring past him. âI have to change for my shift. Just- say it already.â
He watches her a moment longer, rolling his lips in, assessing. âDo I even have to?â
âI have to change for my shift,â she says again, biting her bottom lip, hard. Because sheâs not going to get upset about this now. Just like sheâs not going to think about waking up this morning, for the very first time, to Nat sleeping beside her, hair sprawled across the pillow while sunlight painted her bare back. How it made Lucy ache.
Tommy sidesteps, making a sweeping gesture to let her know sheâs free to go anytime. She nods tightly, unable to meet his gaze as she passes.
âYâknow, I kinda wanted to hate her,â Tommy starts. Because heâs a bastard that way. She hates him. Hates him so fucking much for it that she loves him for being so goddamn forgiving and thought provoking. She swears he went to the Bobby Nash School of Life Advice and Mentoring.
She stops, but doesnât turn around.
âEvan said nice things about her. Decent things anyway. Admittedly, I wasnât crazy about why she was into him. But he didnât have anything terrible. Being his first- I felt a little nervous and wanted to find something. Anything about the people in his past. You know how it can be with exes. Gets messy sometimes.â He pauses, probably sipping his lukewarm coffee. âAnd then they just- I donât know, surprise the hell out of you in an unexpected way.â Another pause. âDonât worry. I wonât hold you up anymore.â
His footsteps echo across the hangar, growing quieter. Lucy tightens her death grip on her bag and marches to the locker room. When she gets there, if she turns on the showers so she can cry in peace, thatâs between her and the ancient tile and god.
np tagging @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @daffi-990 @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @dorkydiaz @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @shipperqueen6 and anyone else who wants to đ
#i wanted some Tommy Lucy bestie time too#lutalia#seven sentence sunday#bucktommy#(background)#hippo writes#idk if iâll do more with this#but i had to get it out of my brain#anyway thank you#mwah! đ
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@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + procrastination and was like âpost gradâ, meaning theyâre not undergrads if itâs canonverse, & something abt the phrasing latched into my brain so we ended up with this vaguely professor au w/ the flimsiest excuse for a TA-adjacent situation ever instead. idk. as ever this was just for her texts & iâm coming off a 30hr migraine so pls forgive me LMAO <3
âI can see right through you,â Kevin murmurs.
âOh, yeah?â Aaron challenges. God, heâs close.
âMm,â Kevin says. âYou just donât want to mark the test.â
It's an accusation, but thereâs no censure in his voice. He's amused, mostly; fond too, despite himself. Itâs not exactly behaviour he should be encouraging, butâ
Aaron huffs. âI never want to mark a test,â he points out. âUndergrads are fucking stupid. Or these ones are, anyway.â
âYou were an undergrad once,â Kevin says. He very determinedly keeps his hands steady on the bench. Maybe heâs gripping the edge so he stays in place; so what? That's between him and whatever God Renee believes in enough for the both of them.
âThese ones,â Aaron repeats, scoffing. âAnyway, I'd never have taken a history paper. Get real.â
Kevin canât help the frown there. âHistory is fascinating,â he argues. Aaron scoffs at him again, but the way he watches Kevin runs counter to that. Like heâs listening to whatever Kevin says, regardless. âIt is,â Kevin insists again, clearing his throat.
Aaron's gaze tracks the movement, eyes following the motion of his throat, and Kevin kind of wants to clench the counter edge hard enough to crack the formica. Jesus Christ.
âYou like research,â Kevin says. He keeps his eyes on Aaron, watches as he steps in closer again. âHistory is an endless study of every mistake weâve ever madeââ
ââSo we donât repeat our forefathersâ mistakes?â Aaron asks wryly. âHate to break it to you, but thatâs a non-starter.â
âNo,â Kevin says, shaking his head. âWeâre bad at learning. Mostly, we donât even see the patterns for decades, if not centuries.â
Aaron cocks his head. âDoesnât that frustrate you?â he asks. âI've seen you watch sports. You get mad if people make the same fuck-up within, like, three minutes.â
An image floats in Kevinâs head, unbidden: the two of them at the sports bar, late one night after they finally convinced Jeremy to go the fuck home because the college wasnât paying him enough to sleep at his desk to reply to nineteen year oldsâ panicked emails at 11:17pm before a midnight deadline. Kevin had been unbelievably put-out by the Astrosâ scoreline; Aaron hadnât cared so much, but had seemed to find great entertainment in prodding at Kevin to express his opinion to a bar full of patrons who strongly disagreed with him.
Do you even care about baseball? Kevin had asked in the end, exasperated. Heâd unknotted his tie and slipped off his jacket, heated by his opinions and the game and the alcohol and the way Aaron had sat there, head tilted, that clever mouth of his quirked up to the side like a smirk, like a secret.
Not really, Aaron had said, shrugging. He swished his beer a little. I played hockey at school myself. Before Kevin could get too excited about thatâa sport! An actual goddamn sport! that wasnât only worth watching European leagues for, cough cough Jeremy and Jean and fucking footballâAaron added, I like seeing how much you care about it, though, and knocked Kevin right on his ass, metaphorically-speaking.
That night had ended in a blur: Kevinâs flushed cheeks as he lectured the bar at large about heliocentrism after finishing his grumbling about the baseball, Aaronâs quiet snort and eyes that laughed more than his mouth did, alcohol-sticky wood beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, the taste of Aaronâs beer on his lips, Aaronâs cool fingers a balm against his cheek, his mouth a searing heat burning all the way through Kevin.
Then when Kevinâs TA dropped out because of âunmanageable stressâ (which was not Kevinâs fault, no matter what Dan says, she and Matt can fuck off) and he had to scramble to figure out what to do, Abby had offered one of her tutorsâbut only for marking, Kevin, he has no base in history. Heâs just smart enough to use a rubric and willing to help. Between this and Jeanâs long-suffering offer to lead the tutorial that didnât clash with his meetings with his advisor, and even Neilâs unlikely assistance in the form of helping restructure the syllabus, it all seemed pretty manageable. (The history department had quietly come to the conclusion that this was not, strictly speaking, acceptable by university standards, but elected to ignore this information until the conclusion of the semester. As far as Kevinâs been able to tell in his years in academia, this is how things tend to work.)
When Abby showed up at his office with Aaron, though, Kevin's cheeks had gone hot enough that sheâd asked him if he was sure he wasnât coming down with a stress fever. Aaron's face had stayed blank, but his eyes were â amused.
It was one thing when Aaron had been the regular third person in the staff room late at night alongside Jeremy and Kevin, rubbing his eyes as he scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. (Anatomy exams, Kevin found out later.) Heâd been mostly quiet, but sharply funny when heâd ended up interacting with them, mostly starting with indelicate snorts at whatever madcap thing Jeremy was saying, then incredulous stares at Kevinâs rebuttal, and finally muttered jabs as he worked the coffee machine and Jeremy laughed delightedly and Kevin stared at him with disbelief and a slow-building warmth in the base of his stomach.
It was yet another thing when Aaron had been the guy he bundled up Jeremy with, the guy he got drunk with for hours in a sports bar, the guy who laughed at him and offered him buffalo wings so spicy that they made Aaronâs cheeks red and Kevinâs lips feel like they were on fire, until Aaron kissed him, tipsy outside the bar, the warmth spreading through Kevin overtaking both the chilly night air and the spice-stained echoes on Kevinâs mouth.
But it was another thing entirely for Aaron to be Aaron, meaning Abby's favourite postgrad and the guy who diligently read Kevinâs syllabus on top of his own work just to better understand the marking rubric and hater of psych majors everywhere. Aaron, with his tired eyes and quiet laugh and complete inability to answer a phone call from his brother in a normal way. (At one point, Kevin had been half-concerned he was ordering a hitâless about the morality or legality of the situation, more in a if you get arrested, Iâm screwed again type wayâuntil Neil had shown up half an hour later with lunch for Aaron and Aaron had gone, ugh and Neil had rolled his eyes, spotted Kevin, and turned to Aaron to say, youâre one to talk. Aaron had flushed a little, then scowled and flipped Neil off, and said fuck off, to which Neil said, gladly, then see you at dinner? And Aaron had waved his hand. If you eat your fucking vegetables, to which Neil had laughed, and flipped him off, and walked out. Kevin had stared at Aaron, nonplussed, but Aaron had ignored him, focusing instead on the test he was marking while he ate the sandwich Neil had brought.) Aaron, with his unbelievably rude opinions about Kevinâs lack of video game knowledge, and the genuinely unreasonable amount of sour gummies he can put away in an hour, and the unbearably soft look he gets on his face when heâs sleepy and huffy and Kevin has gently dragged away whichever test heâs marking or article heâs reading thatâs made him so grumpy late at night.
Aaron, who Kevin actually knows now. And likes even more for it, which is inconvenient and inopportune and probably inevitable.
Kevin clears his throat. âPeople are meant to try and win in sports,â he says. âHistory is about things that have already happened. Itâs a different ballpark.â Thereâs a moment, and then, âTheyâve already lost the battle. I'm not rooting for anything else there.â
Something flares up in Aaron's eyes at that, and he snakes his hand forward, tugging on Kevin's tie. Kevin, hands still holding onto the bench, allows it.
âBut sports are about victory?â Aaron asks.Â
Heâs not even subtle about procrastinating, Kevin thinks. He wants to laugh. He swallows a sigh instead, and says, a little warningly, âAaronâŠâ
But he doesnât move. Doesnât stop Aaron, doesnât do anything to stop him. Maybe leans in a little, even.
âYeah,â Kevin says after a long moment. âHistory, you live or you die. Sports, youâre the best or youâre not.â
âThat's a reductive way of looking at the world,â Aaron says, but itâs that tone he gets sometimes, the one where Kevin doesnât know if he believes it or if he just wants to poke at Kevin a little. Kevin hates that he likes it as much as he does; that he lets it stoke him up, bites at the bit every time.
âYou are not subtle,â Kevin murmurs. The tests are sitting on the table behind Aaron, staring up at the ceiling. Aaron's coffee is abandoned, probably cold.
You are not subtle, Kevin says, and means it, but Aaronâs cocked his eyebrow at him, and thereâs something a little taunting in his eyes, and heâs still holding onto Kevinâs tie, and something in Kevin loosens. He sighs, and lets go of the bench, tucking his fingers into Aaron's belt loops instead and pulling him forward.
âIs this a sport?â Aaron asks, because heâs a dick and facetious and he knows just how to make Kevin want to shut him up.
âYouâre not as funny as you think you are,â Kevin scolds, and then leans forward to kiss the rebuttal out of Aaron's mouth.
#kevaaron#kevin day#aaron minyard#aftg#aftg fic#yet another thing written into mina's texts in the shower from a prompt she lovingly bequeaths me for my warm ups#this time we're playing in the flimsiest AU space ever but i had a 30hr migraine and needed a shower of progress so pls forgive me đ„șđ«¶#warm ups#jane writes sometimes#mina also fixed all the capitals and italics again bc she is the ultimate posting ambassador thank u mina i love u#do not look too closely at anything as ever i am just going with the flow
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Prompt: lipstick and a split lip
Pairing: CrozBrady
john brady martyr complex poppin' off in this one! my sweet boy with so many problems...ough. i tried not to make it too angsty... but unfortunately for all of us mr brady is just a lil angst generator. ty for the prompt, bestie, MWAH! đ
âChrist, John, have you at least seen Smokey?â Croz asks as he wets his handkerchief. This time of night the base is empty, most men out carousing or bothering the local English girls, so the bathroom echoes with his voice as he wipes Johnâs lower lip carefully.Â
âItâs nothing,â he says, the words garbled by Crozâs steady hand holding his aching jaw and the handkerchief in question. âYou should see the guy Bucky got.âÂ
âJesus Christ,â Harry mutters, mostly to himself as he turns to rinse out the cloth. Johnâs blood is red and lurid in the low light, bright as a warning flare, and he wished he didnât have that knowledge in his brain. âYouâre gonna have a bruise the size of Texas, by the way,â he adds.Â
John rests his chin on Harryâs shoulder to eye up the damage in the mirror. A split lip, and heâs right, a nasty bruise to the right side of Johnâs face, starting to purple. Even his hair is in disarray, falling over his forehead sloppily. Harry didnât quite get all the blood, it paints his mouth a cheery color, almost as if heâs wearing lipstick.Â
âOuch,â he remarks dryly, watching the light shift over the darkening bruise. Harry meets his gaze in the mirror and then rolls his eyes.Â
âYour observation skills dazzle,â he shoots back, handing him the wet cloth. John dabs at the blood. The texture is all wrong for lipstick, the mark it would leave on a shirt collar would be oxidized and runny. Harry leans his hip against the sink and holds Johnnyâs jacket. Just to show heâs there, listening, waiting.Â
âIt was stupid,â he finally says, staring down at the faucet. The porcelain is stained with the memories of toothpaste and shaving cream. Heâs going to have a blinder of a headache tomorrow, and itâs going to piss off Cleven. Buckyâs gonna tick him off even worse, but itâs Bucky. John will take the brunt of Galeâs displeasure, itâs what heâs good at after all. âRAF bullshit,â he clarifies, folding the handkerchief up carefully. Harryâs initials are monogrammed in the corner, palest blue as a perfect sky for flying, HHC. Heâs never asked what the middle initial is for.Â
Harry sighs, stares out at the tiled walls like theyâll give him an answer.
âAnd you got involvedâŠ?â
âBecause we didnât have Biddick.â The words came out soft, he wasnât expecting that. Poor Curt, his bones food for the earth, flesh picked clean by the birds. He licks at the wound in his lip absently, welcomes the sting. Pain is straightforward, it is either present or not. Pain is Godâs gift, clearing his senses, bringing purpose.
âJohn,â Harry says, voice just as bruised as Johnâs poor face is. âHey, look at me, huh?â He nudges his chin with one hand, his fingers cool. Heâs always got ink on his left hand, from smudging it as he writes. John lets him, stares at Harryâs beautiful, earnest face.Â
âYou arenât him,â he says firmly, mouth in a grim line he hardly ever adopts, the serious expression strange on his face. It makes Johnâs stomach turn over.Â
âI know.â
âYou could ask Crank or Demarco to help out, next time.â
âIt has to be me.â The conviction catches Harry off guard, he furrows his brow and blinks at him. âI promised,â he adds. And in the end it doesnât matter if it was to Curt or to Bucky, John Brady doesnât break a promise. Harry sighs, looking so goddamn worried for him, so sad, and John hates to see it. He can carry it for the both of them, heâs had practice. Harry should be unburdened, itâs not his cross to bear. âIâm not doing anything I wasnât prepared to do, Croz.â
âJesus, at least get someone to help if youâre going to fight.âÂ
âSure.â Thatâs an easy request at the end of the day. Harry asks so little of him, John makes an effort to listen when he does. Heâs apparently not mollified by this answer, heâs studying John carefully, as if heâs a difficult terrain map he doesnât have a legend for. He takes his jacket back, puts it down, and leans into Harryâs space. Heâs warm, he smells like his aftershave, familiar to Johnny like the smell of his own pipe, or the scent of the engines on a B-17 when theyâre hot.Â
âHarry,â he says, kissing the side of his face softly. He shivers, one hand going to Johnâs waist, the touch burning-hot. He makes a noise of protest, even as his eyes flutter shut. John doesnât stop, and his poor split lip leaves behind faint crimson smears, as if he really is wearing lipstick. This is dangerous, anyone could walk in at any time. They canât leave marks, evidence, theyâll get blue-ticketed faster than a fort in a nose dive. But John Brady wants to leave behind some impression that he was alive, that he walked this earth and loved on it, an impulse that grows more frantic with each passing week. So many dead men and who will remember them?Â
âWe shouldnâtââ Harry pulls back enough to look him in the eye. âNot here,â he amends softly, eyes straying to Johnâs mouth.Â
âOne of the sheds?â Most guys are in town tonight, it shouldnât be that hard to find somewhere away from prying eyes out at the edges of the base. They finished a mission recently, nobody will go looking for Captain Brady or Lieutenant Crosby if they steal away for a little bit. Harry nods, kisses him once, chaste and quick.
âTen minutes?â he says from the door. John nods, and like that heâs gone. He takes his time putting his dress greens to rights, shrugging his jacket back on, tucking his hair into place. Carefully reconstructing his armor, the unflinching Captain John Brady sliding back into place, covering up the scared boy that had hit that RAF officer. Bucky will smooth things over the next day. In the morning, heâll sit next to Hoerr in the mess and eat those awful powdered eggs, and deter Meatball from eating his toast, and life will go on.Â
âRight,â he tells his own reflection. âOnce more, unto the breach.â
#no matter which way i'm writing it wartime bradycroz are using sex to deflect from their feelings!#guys who are a little too good at repression so they never Talk About It#prompts#bradycroz
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I finally did it yall I made a list of my favorite Cartmanisms bc I do in fact very much enjoy writing his out of pocket ass
âOh speaking of,â Cartman added, âletâs just sacrifice the Insulin Bitch and the brain damaged hippie to the zaliens so the rest of us can make a run for it.â
Eric was scowling. âOnly IâM allowed to make comments about you two gayasses. I say we wipe the floor with those homophobes.â
âI doubt theyâll have a vest in your size, Thumbulimia.â
âPlease, I have better things to do than watch the Jew have a Post Traumatic Spider Disorder episode.â
Cartman rolled his eyes, but got up to drop a five in the Fuckwad Jar. âI hate you guys, seriously. Marj, you werenât even in the room for the Nancy joke.â The lace trim of his robe fluttered as he sat back down, which made Stan laugh again. âWhatâs so funny, hippie?â There werenât really words, honestly, but heâd try. âI just⊠I never want us to change, you know?â âGay.â
Eric sung a few lines of âJesus Loves The Little Childrenâ in a creepy horror movie voice and then sprung out from his hiding spot and started blasting on an unsuspecting youth who got too close, chasing him down the field with rarely shown athleticism.
Cartman looked incredibly bored as he clicked the magazine and snapped it back into place. âWell fuck me for being prepared.â
Cartman scoffed. âHeâs not doing anything but staring up at you like heâs Sleeping Goddamn Beauty and you just kissed him out of a coma.â
âAwww, looook, you guys! Theyâre having a gay little hurt/comfort moment again! What, you gonna kiss it better, Kahl?â
Cartman just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. âWhat the hell ever, Jimothy. Go stutter about it to someone else.â
âOkay, fucking first of all,â Kyle shot a glare at Cartman, âno oneâs getting sacrificed. Literally, thatâs not goddamn happening. AND weâre keeping this discussion CIVIL. Itâs five in the morning and nobodyâs slept very much. Thereâs not a single guy here whoâs actually thinking straight.â âThat would be because half of you are gay as balls.â
âOnce again, Iâm moving that we leave the hippie behind.â âCartman, remind me to kick your ass when weâre out of here.â âGood luck on that if you fucking faint like one of those stupid goats again.â
Cartman was out of bullets, but heâd taken out a good chunk of the extraterrestrial undead. âHoly shit, Kahl, you better not die on us. Cockroach, remember? Youâre a damn cockroach.â
âAight, so anyway, whatâs JewBot up to?â âStill at work. Heâll be home later. Weâre gonna go out to dinner with the Tuckers.â âI didnât ask for your lifeâs story, buttplug,â
âOh JESUS CHRIST!!â Oh, great. Cartman had emerged from his cave. âDid I just walk into a stairwell orgy?â
âFuck you, Kahl. Your recycled dildo and his weirdo wingman pulled me out of a Klance slowburn.â âWHO the FUCK is reading Voltron fanfiction in 2023?!â âSome of us are dedicated.â
Eric paused his self imposed quest to rob every taco truck in GTA and set aside his controller. âHellllll no. The vampires donât get my blood without paying me for it.â
âGeez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.â
âFatass, if he dies in a car accident because YOU made him freak, I WILL kill you.â âGood luck doing that with one leg and a fever, fleshlight.â But his voice softened. âJust try to chill out until he gets home, Kahl. Then you can be a terrible patient for someone who actually likes you.â
âYeah, hippie. I wasnât going to deal with you if something happened to your burning bush.â
A certain abrasive fuckwad leaned casually against the wall. âOh, the Bubonic Jew didnât tell you yet? I said he fell on the stairs, didnât I? He just hurt his knee again, what else is new.â Stan made a noise of surprise and Cartman pointed his beef jerky at him. âBy the way, I really donât get why you get so stoked about lugging him around. Heâs difficult.â
Cartman scurried off to inspect a leaf. âWoah, you guys! I think I just, like, discovered empathy!â âYouâre looking at a plant.â âPlants have feelings too, Khal! Look at your photosynthesizing dildo back there!â
âLike he needs an excuse to get on his high horse about shit.â âIâll kick your fat ass,â Kyle warned. âGood luck, tinkerbell.â
Cartman had planted himself into the passenger seat, munching away at that bag of funyuns. He glanced back. âWhatâs the âsitch, Ken-Possible?â
âBecause, you pussy,â Cartman said with a false saccharine smile, âyou have the biggest TikTok following from your gayass little songs.
âYep.â Cartman said through a mouthful of eggs. âPlus, Clyde has an affair going with the town vet, Butters is a total twink, and Stanny boy has a boner for the Jew.â
Oh dear god. Cartman was NOT about to babysit the argumentative dickhole while the housekeeper worked. As much fun as he was to fight with, Kyle was a fierce opponent, and Cartman wasnât really in the mood. Heâd had a weird night. The cats had been on edge.
Oh, of goddamn course. The OTHER buttplug. It wasnât a secret. Well, technically it was, because no one talked about it, but anyone with eyeballs could see that Stan and Kyle had a gayass little private relationship going on behind Craigâs back. Good for them, or whatever, but if the Spider ever got proofâŠ
Cartman just rolled his eyes. âScott, you glucose gobbling ass bitch, Iâve literally butchered two people. I know the human body, okay?â
âThe fuck.â Cartmanâs eyes widened. âEvery single one of you dildos had better be praying that thereâs no internal bleeding.â
Cartman put his hands up. âGahdamn, you guys. Just trying to lighten the mood in this hot air balloon to Hell.â
âAy! Hippie! The Jew had to stay for basketball so Iâm here with your buttfucking homework-â
Cartman definitely wanted to rip on him for wallowing in his own sadness, but the sooner he got this loser to be a person again, the better. âNo shit, asshole. Your fucking fleshlight is even more intolerable without you to hold him back. You need to come back to school.â
âAlso, Iâm telling your little prince of Egypt that he can come over. Itâs not like heâs gonna catch your Sad Bitch Disease.â
Cartman strolled around the corner, now wearing his frilly âwidow whose husband died under mysterious circumstancesâ robe.
#heâs so fucking funny#i actually love writing my favorite abrasive fuckwad#south park#eric cartman#why are so many of these OJV or from ITTG lmaooo#him in TWITR was fun too#my shit#Cartmanisms#ao3 shit#my writing#he do be callin people buttplugs fleshlights and dildos#also#long live the Fuckwad Jar
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Uncanny X-men #196- What Was That?!!
CW: racial slurs
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Last Issue Recap: The Power Pack made a cameo and Wolverine did not disembowel a child. Callisto in the Morlocks did show up and they are as skrungly and terrible as ever. And then there was Secret Wars 2 which I have mentally blocked out of my brain because it's too pointless and annoying to take up important Nightcrawler Obsessing Space.
Anyway, HOLY HELL, how did this cover make it to print?! Its literally a woman in a gimp suit! Have I talked about Rachel's Mutant Hunter gimpsuit before? I feel like I have, but I would once again like to say, what the actual fuck.
It's Chris Claremont so I expect to be using this a lot in the near future. Also, in this cover there are spikes around her crotch that form a thong/triangle shape (super umcomfy đŹ) which (spoilers) are not there when she wears the suit in-issue. Which just makes this worse.
Gimpsuit aside I don't like this cover. The composition is meh, and its the same sort of misdirection we saw in the last issue. Is Rachel going to beat the shit out of the X-men and get stabbed by Wolverine? Of course she's not. The splash panel on the first page is pretty striking though.
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The title is uncreative, but I do adore when writers try to work their issue title into the first page's dialogue or onomatopoeia or something (Thor #366 is my absolute favorite example of this). This is a fantastic first page, not only does it immediately set up tension, mystery and stakes while quickly delivering exposition, but it cleverly uses the in-universe curtain behind Professor X as a tool for adding motion and energy, whilst directing the reader's eye around the page.
I half forgot that Professor X is actually a professor and that he didn't just make that title up to sound cool. Hell, since he has a PhD it should actually be Dr X but that sounds a little too much like a porn knockoff of Dr Strange for my and Marvel's liking. Jesus Christ I bet he's the sort of proff who never ever grades essays in time because he's too busy fucking off fighting Godlike entities in space. I'd give him a 2 on Rate My Professor so fast.
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Several students in this packed classroom are smoking. Oh 1985, how the times have changed!
As his students leave, Professor X laments that he cannot simply read their minds and figure out who's thought this was. Not because this would be highly unethical, but because his mind and body has been weakened ever since he got the shit kicked out of him by anti-mutant muggers a few issues back.
Meanwhile, Storm is home in Africa on her self discovery tour, where she is- shot in the head and left for dead by the racist poachers she'd fought before?!
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I know logically this is just a fakeout but I'll be damned if it isn't some good tension! Also; the racist poachers are a brother-sister pair named Andreas and Andrea. Their parents must have hated them even more than I do.
We immediately cut to Kitty talking about Ororo's letters at a team meeting just to hammer the stake further into my goddamn heart. The Gang has gathered in a deli to discuss Professor X's mystery, including Magneto (whose presence goes undiscussed, probably because it was explained in Secret Wars 2) and some blonde lady named Aleytys who I have no idea who she is. (Edit: I know who she is- Lee Forrester, Scott Summers ex-girlfriend who apparently hooked up with Magneto in New Mutants. What an absolute power move.) Something I haven't mentioned yet because it hasn't come up is that Chuck has been hiding his growing frailty and power loss from his friends and teammates for some reason I've forgotten but which is probably stupid. Also he can walk at this point in continuity but that's not important.
Rachel sees the Beyonder shows up for his editor mandated plot interruption for a few pages and I'm not going to discuss it because I Don't Care.
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My thoughts exactly Kitty.
Speaking of the best boy, he is off at his parish, talking to the priest about his crisis of faith.
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I cannot imagine what it must be like to go into confessional with a superhero he has heard some shit someone redraw this man in that one stock photo of the priest.
The monster Kurt is talking about his the Beyonder because goddamnit I guess I can't just ignore that motherfucker. TLDR, he was the ultra-powerful being who started the excuse plot for the original Secret Wars. In Secret Wars 2 he comes to Earth to learn the meaning of life or some bullshit and wanders around causing problems before turning himself into a baby (probably, idk I never finished it, Jim Shooter did that before so he'd probably do it again.) Kurt's faith has been completely destroyed by the Beyonder's sheer power which is like no being he's ever seen before- oh please.
This whole scene sort of pisses me off. First off, its more wanking off about the Beyonder and I really don't want to hear about this guy. Second, its another reason to leave Kurt out of this weeks plot and that pisses me off, give my boy more screentime! Third, this really doesn't feel justified by the Beyonder. Nightcrawler saw Dr Doom hand him his ass in Secret Wars, he knows he's not omnipotent. Nightcrawler having a breakdown is fine but there's way more interesting stuff for him to break down over.
Back on the main plot, a group of shadowy figures sneak into Professor X's office and plant a bomb under his desk! I see someone has been reading Hitchcock's quotes on suspense.
Rogue and Rachel are flying over Columbia U having a dramatic irony-laden conversation about how much less nasty this current timeline is than Rachel's home time whilst she mind-scans for the culprits. They don't find them, but they do find a mugging in progress and stop it.
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I'll tell you what else is a crime, that hairdo! Yeesh.
It turns out the civilian they saved is a anti-mutant jackass who was grafitti-ing the words "Muties die!" when he got jumped, because Marvel civilians are assholes. Kitty and Wolvie take a quick break from crimefighting and have an conversation that's too cute for me not to share.
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Kitty phases into a building because she sees a light on in a lab after hours. She finds some of her student acquaintances skulking about and, despite having doubts that any of them could be murderers, is immediately suspicious. I personally think the fact they ordered pizza with anchovies on it would be enough to peg them as supervillains on the spot, but Kitty is more of an optimist than me. The terrorists realize Kitty is a mutant and confront her about it.
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Kitty Pryde just said the N-word. This isn't ok. I don't know how the editors at Marvel ever thought it was ok, and it speaks volumes that they did. "Mutie" isn't a real swear. "N-----" is. That word is hateful and terrible and affects real people and it is not ok at all to equate it to a made-up slur. The X-men are supposed to be an allegory for suffering that empowers minority groups. This just hurts them more. Hell no to all of this.
I took a hot minute to absorb what I just fucking read and then moved on with the issue. The terrorist kids get the jump on Kitty and chloroform her before she can phase out, with intent to kill her. Meanwhile, Magneto, Professor X and Rachel Summers are in the Prof's office, discussing the case and the Beyonder's continued presence because he's been stalking them like a weirdo. Rachel tries to psychically link the three so they can sense the Beyonder like she can, but using her psi-powers sets off the bomb, which is actually not a bomb but a "psi-scream," a device that amplifies and reflects psychic energy back to its source. This is a massive plot-hole; how did they know Xavier was psychic?! As far as I'm aware its not common knowledge Professor X is a mutant at all, let alone what his powers are! And these are just normal Columbia U college students with no connection to any supervillains or secret organizations whatsoever, there's no way they'd have access to this info!
The bomb overloads Rachel and she accidentally destroys the office, sending out a shockwave of energy that sends Professor X and Maggie flying. Rogue has to catch them both which I find sort of curious because its always so inconsistent whether Magneto can fly or not (my personal headcanon is that his costume has metal soles and he levitates them). Rachel senses Kitty's distress through their psychic link and freaks out so bad she manifests her BDSM Mutant Hunter costume. She flies over to the lab, explodes the anti-mutant students and rescues Kitty in a very hetero way.
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Cannot imagine what goes on in Kitty Pryde's head. Must a beautiful and terrifying place to visit.
The guy in the pink jacket from before regains consciousness and tries to shoot Rachel, but its a bit like trying to stab a rhinoceros with a butter knife. She's about to kill him, when Magneto shows up to stop her from making the same mistakes he has.
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I don't know bout you but if Magneto in a suit told me to do anything I'd drop whatever I was doing immediately. I love reformed Magneto, such a richer and more interesting character than racist whiny asshole villain Magneto. I sure hope Marvel lets him continue to grow as a person and don't constantly regress his character for the stake of a stupid status quo! Haha. I hate the Endless Wheel of Comic Book Samsara.
The conversation between Magneto and Rachel is honestly really beautiful. Two people who've never interacted before, but understand each other's pain better than anyone else can. Its a fantastic scene only slightly marred by the final panels being of the Beyonder observing the scene and giving some pointless, longwinded commentary. Its too long for me to screenshot and post here so I super recommend you check this out for yourself!
On the plus side, next issue is Dr Doom!
Final Thoughts: This issue had some really high highs and some really low lows. I'm honestly super shocked the panel of Kitty Pryde saying the N-word isn't more infamous than it is, because holy fuck that was awful.
#comic books#marvel comics#x men#professor x#storm#ororo munroe#kitty pryde#nightcrawler#kurt wagner#wolverine#rachel summers#magneto#rogue#way too long#way too many tags#i didn't proofread this
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virgin mary you fucking alien pls :D (this is lexie)
also:
tagging @wakeupnew and @chobani-flip both in this one!
so, okay, first, the title comes from voltaire's song "the man upstairs" (... side note: i remember telling @chobani-flip how horrified i was at discovering the devil's bris came out in nineteen-ninety-fucking-eight; i am still appalled, for the record). absolutely not the title i'll be using, but as working-titles-in-gdocs go it serves its purpose (i.e., telling me which file it is without me having to think too hard).
but. anyway. this is the "tommy lived in buck's building already when he moved into the loft" fic that i posted snippets of here and here. i don't actually even remember what made the things connect in my brain that i got the initial idea for this fic anymore, although it's possible if i dug around in my chatlog with christine on discord i could find it.
but i think part of it is, you know. if buck and tommy did know each other before the helicopter rescue in s7, but neither of them were necessarily in a place where their relationship would be anything but friendship, what would that change? would that change anything? (this is also related to my deeply-held belief -- reflected in at least one other WIP of mine -- that buck just. desperately. needs more goddamn friends. people in his life that actually mean something to him that aren't in the "colleagues who've been promoted" category. that's one of the things that pissed me off the most about his relationship with taylor turning into a Relationship actually.)
and, hey. some things change. some things stay the same. buck's gonna buck, after all. i haven't 100% decided at what point they're going to get together yet -- i think i need a full-series rewatch before i can work on this much more, honestly -- but the one place i keep coming back to in my brain is in s5b, after the speed rescue with lucy. is this in large part because i fucking hate that arc? maybe. i love lucy but jesus fucking christ i hate that shit. >_> and here, another snippet, double-sized because there's two of you!
to: Tommy no itâs fine donât worry itâs the middle of the day anyway i shouldn't be drinking
from: Tommy Lunch wouldnât be the worst idea in the world, but if you want to drink, just drink. Leaving yourself beholden to an artificial standard of when itâs okay to indulge is less healthy than day drinking. Also shift work means that you can drink whenever you want to, in my opinion. Iâll be worried about you either way. You might as well have a bad day with somebody elseâs beer.
to: Tommy i promise that wasn't what i was trying to do i worry enough people as it is we donât even work together
from: Tommy This is a free service from me to you. I get it if you donât want to, but donât feel like you have to say no to be polite. If I didnât mean the offer I wouldnât have made it.
(ask me about any of my WIPs, if you'd like!)
#ask meme#asks answered#911#evan buckley#bucktommy#my fic lives here#also fwiw tommy's 'if you wanna drink just drink' was stolen wholly from a friend of mine who used to be on nights with me
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Jesus christ there was so much shit brought up by this H/lluva B/ss episode huh?
Like it genuinely makes me uncomfortable the level that some stans are willing to do to defend V/vziepop just because she's an "indie" artist, from harrassment to blaming people for being upset to just borderline gaslighting sometimes?
Like I hate to use too strong of words but things like "actually it's your fault for reading too deep into these things" after saying "don't worry [x] character is going to get deeper don't you worry!!" make me think of gaslighting, even if that's not quite the term to use.
Also the vibes of "it's actually your fault if you find trouble with something" is absolutely rancid.
Like god forbid people ask for a goddamn trigger warning for something like domestic abuse that isn't played off for jokes. And honestly the fact that I have to put something like that just says how low of a bar my brain has sometimes.
Like, if something like SA or abuse that's played for jokes, I can tolerate it, mostly because pop culture has normalized those things being joked about. Mind you, I still won't like it, but I'll tolerate it.
But, if it's played for straight and is supposed to be emotional, then put a fucking trigger warning.
Hell, even for the above, you should STILL trigger warning it, because I (unlike the braindead stans of this show) acknowledge that my standards are not the same as other and I have the decency to acknowledge that people have different triggers, likes, and dislikes, so will need warnings and tags about what is connected.
You can tag something without "spoiling" it, and if that's the reason why she didn't tag something like that, then I'm going to be pissed.
Sorry about the rant, I just suddenly felt like. A lot of emotion bubble up and I needed to let it out. I mostly typed this out to get it out, but if anyone wants to talk about it, feel free to reblog and add your own thoughts about this whole thing.
I might be a little late to responding, but I'll try to reblog replies to this.
#đ„ a cataclysm of great proportions | rant#đïž eldritch murmuring | talking#đ impish desires | helluva boss#helluva boss critical#vivziepop critical#spindlehorse critical#fandom critical
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