#been thinking about him all day. @ my brain: why him

[torlibram]

Let me tell you something. You know, while I have your attention, what with the chains and everything. And before you start planning your escape: yes, I have a tendency to monologue, and yes, I am still very much alive and well, and yes, those are the desiccated bones of the previous set of heroes to try what you did. So hush a minute and listen.

Have you ever thought about why I set myself up like this? About what my eventual goal is? I'm not Evil with a capital E, I'm just painted that way by those with a vested interest in the status quo. Seriously. The big wigs at the Ministry want me gone because I am a challenge to their rigid thinking and blinkered mindset.

It was all my parents fault, really. They had it in their heads that I was going to be the greatest wizard ever, head of the Ministry by the age of twenty-five, all that nonsense. So they had me reading runes before I could read ordinary Westling. I could conjure air spirits at the age of five, if you can believe it. Oh, mock all you like, I could do it.

They tucked bits and pieces of regular education in around the magic stuff wherever I had a spare minute. Nine, sometimes ten hours a day, six days a week from the moment I was old enough to hold a wand.

I never knew any different, of course. I never had time to go out and meet kids my age. I never knew what it was like to be normal. It was memorising spells and learning techniques and practicing gestures and fifteen uses for newt livers in everything from poisons to phantasmal conjurations. It got to me, I won't lie. All I ever wanted back then was to make them proud.

It ended when they wanted to do the grand unveiling. Revealing their protégé to the unsuspecting world. Sending me off to the Invisible College to wow the staff there and start my ascent to greatness.

It all backfired when I met my fellow students. They were just starting out. They couldn't have summoned a wet fart after a big curry. I didn't believe it at first. How could they have gotten a place at IC without the merest cantrip to their name?

Some time in the library showed me what my parents had done to me. To my life. The rage that gripped me when I realised that everything had just been for their benefit: so they could be the gracious, smiling, loving parents who had helped their darling boy achieve the greatness for which he was so clearly destined.

I stuck it out for one semester. Used that time to get everything I could from the library, every advanced technique and spell that the undergrads aren't supposed to know even exists. I picked the brains of my tutors, too. Oh, don't look at me like that, I don't mean literally. I asked some leading questions and learned where to focus my research is all.

Then I left. My parents got all upset about their son disappearing and there were searches by the King's men, but I was well away to the north.

I got my start with a troll. One of the old fashioned lads from up in the mountains. He jumped out from under his bridge and demanded a toll. I offered him a few castings of a sculpting spell I knew, help repair the bridge a bit, and before I knew it, I had an actual friend. First one in my life and it was a troll! Talking to old Belag, I saw the rough deal that he and his people got and I thought "I could really stick it to dear old mum and dad if I start championing the little guys, the underdogs."

So that's what I did. After Belag and his bridge, there was an orc tribe going through a constitutional crisis that I happened across at the right time to get myself installed as the new chief's adviser. From there it was straightforward to nudge the tribe into better trade relations with neighbouring tribes, better treatment for the slaves that did the agriculture (which meant better crop yields and less lashing-to-deaths) and so on.

King Knob-Cheese, excuse me, King Nhobesh, the orcish turn of phrase does tend to rub off on you, was against all this, of course and so sent out adventurers to end the "orcish threat". My magic saw them off before they had their swords out. The next lot managed to get half a sentence of self-righteous declamation in before the acid storm took them, but I saw the way things were going. I advised the chief to pack up and move north of the mountains to make it harder for the King's men to find us. Took a lot of arguing, but I got him to agree in the end. He finally admitted he didn't want to end up with his head on a pike and rallied the tribe to move out.

Setting up this side of the mountains was tricky. The local tribes didn't fancy a bunch of southerners moving in, so I had to crack a few heads by levitating damn great boulders over them before their deputies saw sense.

After that, it was plain sailing. The northern tribes got the hang of things quite quickly and evolved into socialist communes inside a decade. Belag had a word with his cousins, who talked to their friends the stone giants and we had this place blocking the major pass to the north practically before the King knew there was anything going on. I was kind of specific in the design of this fortress. Yes, we want to keep the men of the south out, I said, but we should keep the option to open the way wide to them if they ever grow up. And so grew the tower of Broad Door.

Look, is all this history boring you? Because we can go back to the injecting molten lead into the marrow of your bones if you like? That's more the Ministry's sort of speed, isn't it? No? Ok, tell you what: you seem to have a halfway sensible head on your shoulders, unlike some of your erstwhile comrades. The northern collectives can always use a sensible head with a good sword arm. I'll turn you over to our recruiting department and they can show how much better life is this side of the mountains, what do you say?

Why? Because there is no better revenge, nothing, than knowing that my dearest mummsy and daddikins have to disavow all knowledge of their son, that my every act will shame them in the eyes of their peers, that I have subverted so many alleged heroes to my cause by just common sense and social justice. When I think of the ulcers I must be causing them because they can't bring themselves to admit the Dark Lord of the North is their fault, why it warms my heart on the coldest of nights.

Learning magic is an arduous journey, requiring sacrifice and dedication. Your parents made you give up your childhood to study magic—only after completing your studies do you learn that most other mages actually choose to start in adulthood.

[bumblebecc]

the one where trinity santos knows that frank is using again, except he isn’t

Trinity knows something is up with Frank Langdon. She just does.

It starts when she walks in on a Monday with a truly horrific looking board. A massive carpile up handled by the nightshift has set them all back and tied up Ortho for the day. Good luck, all broken bones and potential amputations walking into the waiting room. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Dana look frazzled (apart from PittFest, but she tries not to think about that day too much. She puts it all in the Do Not Touch box that lives in the back of her brain). Robby is extra prickly because Gloria keeps popping up and jumpscaring everyone. Perlah’s daughter is turning ten next week and she’s making it a bigger deal than it needs to be (in Trinity’s opinion), so the normally restrained camp of Perlah and Princess is also stressed.

And Frank comes in basically skipping past the waiting room and freaking everyone out.

“Why all the glum faces?” Trinity hears him ask Collins.

“Have you even looked at the board today? It’s like Hell opened up overnight.”

“Never took you for a theater kid.” Trinity spares a look and sees Langdon languidly leaning on the nurse’s station. “So much drama. Nah, we’ll get this straightened up. Hey, look, you take South 15, he’s been here awhile. I’ll handle the rash and fever in North 5. We’ll get these beds opened up in no time.”

“Could’ve sworn you would’ve gone for the potential hernia.”

“Hernia, shmernia. McKay can have that one. C’mon, new attending. We have a waiting room to empty.”

Trinity sits up.

“You’re… optimistic today,” says Collins slowly.

“Ah, you know what they say.” Langdon smirks, snagging a pair of gloves as he leaves. “A cynic has to be an optimist at least some of the time.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Heather calls after him.

And Trinity would just chock that little interaction up to Langdon just being his normal brand of obnoxious if she hadn’t overheard Princess and Perlah in the breakroom.

“He smiled at me and told me to have a good day,” says Princess, audibly bewildered. “Has he ever done that to you?”

“No, but he asked me to tell Jamillah Roslyn happy birthday for her party,” says Perlah, bewildered. “I didn’t even know he knew her name.”

“Something’s up with him,” says Princess suspiciously and Trinity agrees. Parks it in her mind as she and the others steadfastly work through the onslaught of patients. Post-hysterectomy infection (and potential malpractice suit, the fucker didn’t prescribe the poor woman any antibiotics). A simple MI sent up to surgery in record time. A pulmonary contusion in an eight year old from a gnarly bumper car collision.

And then—

“Are you whistling?” Garcia asks, almost in disbelief.

“What, the patient is anesthetized,” says Langdon casually as he makes room for the ultrasound tech. “Don’t be knocking my bedside manner when the bedside isn’t awake.”

“Look,” says Garcia. “The Cure is low, even for you. At least do Bowie or Santana.”

“You would hate The Cure,” says Langdon and then whistles the first few lines of Smooth freakishly well.

“That’s more like it,” says Garcia.

“You treat me like a radio,” sighs Langdon. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Yes, especially because I am not needed here,” says Garcia. “Look at the head CT. Brain tumor. More than most likely caused the seizure. Far above my paygrade. He needs oncology and a specialized treatment plan, not emergency surgery.”

“Copy,” says Frank. “I’ll call up Blestner and get a consult.”

Garcia’s eyebrow slowly rises. “You’ll just ‘call up’ Blestner?”

“For a potentially glioneuronal mass that size?” Frank clicks his tongue. “Hell yeah I’m calling Blestner.”

“Blestner hates your guts,” interrupts Trinity. She’s too bewildered to stay quiet. “He called you a junkie and told you to put him on the phone with a real doctor last time.”

“And I went through the official channels and put in an HR complaint and everything’s been peachy since,” says Langdon, unbothered. “He loves me now.”

“Huh.” Garcia looks him over slowly. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Indubitably.” And Langdon strides out of the room, already on his pager.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Trinity looks up, surprised.

Yolanda is smiling, but there’s a tension around her mouth that Trinity recognizes from that time when she forgot to wash the pan after making eggs. The this thing is out of my control smile. “He is in a really good mood,” she says. “Which might be nothing. But it also might be something. I haven’t heard him whistle since he passed the Step 3. And that was 2021, so.”

“You don’t think—?”

“No, babe, I don’t think. I just worry.” Yolanda glances behind her, makes sure no nosy RN is looking, and presses a quick kiss to Trinity’s cheek. That was also something Trinity had to get used to. Yo’s touchyness. It’s a plus, she knows now, but there was a time she would’ve dodged away, wary. Now, she leans in.

“My worrier,” says Trinity, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yolanda Garcia backs out of the room, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And Trinity keeps a half-eye on Langdon, yeah. And maybe he’s a little too nice to Lupe, calling her a “badass” and then dapping up some random EMT after a successful code. But she’s not really concerned because she’s sure he’ll be back to his usual “I’m surrounded by idiots” self tomorrow.

Except he isn’t.

“He brought donuts,” says Mateo in the breakroom, looking like he’s seen a ghost. “And not Dunkin Donuts. Leonarda’s. The fancy shit. For Nurse Appreciation Week.”

“That’s not so weird!” Kim is sheepishly playing with her hair. “Dr. King gave me a personalized card.”

“Please call her Mel, Kim, no one calls her Dr. King and it’s lowkey a little weird that you do.” Mateo opens up one of the boxes (with gilded swirly writing on top, Trinity knows it’s bougie) and a heavenly smell envelopes them.

Donahue shakes his head. “This… this is some spooky shit.”

“Do you think this is like some NA thing?” Jesse asks. “Like, being nice to people?”

Trinity doesn’t speak, because being allowed in the nurse’s lounge is a privilege that gets easily revoked, but she thinks no fucking way to herself.

But then she kinda forgets about it because she’s pulled for Chairs. Bleh.

Flu case. Ten year old with influenza. Fifty year old with the flu. Eighteen year old with a headache and fever—influenza A. Seventy year old with—you guessed it—the flu.

“Fuck, I hate triage,” she tells the skittish med student who started last week. The name will come to her. Jessica. Jennifer. Something with a J? She’s red-haired, pretty in an effortless kind of way, and petrified of everything that moves and makes Trinity miss Whitaker, who matched into emergency medicine at Allegheny. “Don’t you want some action?”

“Huh?!” Jessica Jennifer Jayla blushes so hard, Trinity looks at her with concern. “No!! No I don’t!”

“Easy, easy,” says Trinity, undeterred. “So you like the boring ones?”

“Oh! You meant—“ the blush recedes and Jennifer Jessica Jaime clears her throat. “The cases. Yeah, uh, they’re alright. I don’t really like traumas that much.”

Trinity eyes her, slightly concerned. “Calm down, Mother Mary. I wasn’t asking you about your sex life.”

Jaime Joanna Jessica frowns. “My name is Julie.”

“Julieee,” says Trinity. “Cool. Just a joke.” And then she follows Julie’s eyesight, which is locked across the room to—Langdon, chatting with an EMT. “No way. He’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

“No!!” Julie is fumbling with her gloves. “He’s 33! And I’m 25!”

“You asked him his age?” Trinity says, absolutely delighted.

“He’s divorced!” says Julie. “It’s not a crime!”

“But it is definitely frowned upon. A resident and a med student, are you crazy?”

“You’re an R-2 with a new attending!” says Julie, suddenly fierce.

“Different departments, plus no one gives a shit.” Trinity could laugh. She could care less how Mother Mary knows about her and Garcia—probably a mouthy respiratory therapist or something. “Good luck with that HR violation, Julie. You should get some better taste.”

“What? He’s so nice. And hot. The day me and Yamaguchi started, he told us we’re on our way to being great doctors.” Yep, those are definitely stars in the med student’s eyes.

Langdon. Being overly nice to med students. An alarm goes off in Trinity’s brain. And she automatically says, “Yeah, he lies a lot,” and beelines straight to Robby, who is intensely charting and pretending not to notice a frequent flyer asking for a blanket (he has about five already). “Okay, is something up with Langdon?”

Robby slides his glasses down at her with intense scrutiny. “Let’s rephrase the question to something more specific, Dr. Santos.”

“He’s whistling in the ER,” says Trinity. “He’s happily doing all the shitty boring cases. He told Perlah to tell her kid happy birthday. He bought the nurses donuts for Nurse Appreciation Week. He’s being nice to med students. Med students. That’s weird.”

Robby sighs, slips off his glasses. “Maybe he’s just having a good day.”

“Try a good week.” And Trinity lowers her voice. “Look. Is it possible he’s relapsed?”

Her chief attending leans back in the chair. Clicks around on the computer for a minute. “Dr. Langdon’s drug screening results are private healthcare information that I cannot release to you, Dr. Santos. However, I can guarantee that as of this morning, Langdon is enthusiastically cleared to work in the ED.” He shoots her a look. “So whatever’s bothering you has nothing to do with his recovery. Okay? Conversation done.”

And Trinity stands there, frowning, because things aren’t clicking.

And they don’t until she bumps into Mel the next day.

“Heyyy, MelMel,” Trinity says, fresh off a Cliff bar break. “What the heck are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

Mel beams, cute as ever with her hair up in two twin buns. It must be boiling outside, because she’s in little white shorts and her cheeks are pink from the sun. “Yeah, it is! But Becca and I stayed up late last night baking.” And Trinity does notice the brownie tray. “We might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ah. Baking.”

“Yes, Becca’s very into sourdough lately,” says Mel seriously. Trinity can’t help but have a soft spot for her. A tiny soft spot. “She’s been watching these TikTok videos. My kitchen is now her experiment station.”

“Ah. Your sister. Nice.” Trinity’s about to politely extricate herself from the conversation in favor of a patient when Langdon suddenly appears. And by suddenly, Trinity means he was on the other side of the room, and then he basically teleported to Mel’s side.

“Mel, what are you doing here?” He puts his hand on her shoulder like she’ll disappear otherwise. “Are you—oh! Nice shirt.”

It’s a normal shirt, light pink with a print of Hello Kitty waving. Mel smiles brightly. “Hi!! Yeah it’s—“

“Becca’s favorite,” Langdon finishes and they both laugh, even though it isn’t really funny, like it’s an inside joke. And then Langdon glances down at the tray and says, “Ah, the brownies, shit, sorry, I forgot you were going to bring those in.”

“Well, I felt bad, you got the nurses those fancy donuts and I only gave out cards.” Mel is—pouting? Not really, not in the exaggerated way Yolanda does to make Trinity give her attention, but actually genuinely. Mel’s mouth is a little downturned, her eyebrows are scrunched with mild displeasure.

“Stop, they’d take a card from you over anything from me any day,” scoffs Frank. “Donnie acted like I was trying to poison him. And I’m half fucking convinced Ramón thinks you’re an actual angel from heaven.”

“No, he doesn’t, we have a very good professional rapport,” says Mel.

“Bullshit, he likes you.” And then Frank… softens? Like all the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax and he leans down, looking at her with his weirdly intense eyes and Trinity feels like she walked in on something. And the hand, still on Mel’s shoulder, is sliding down, his long fingers curling softly around her wrist. “Maybe I can’t blame him, though.”

“Oh my god,” says Trinity and they both jump, like they forgot she was even there. “You’re getting laid. That’s why you’ve been so fucking weird all week. You’re boinking Mel.”

“Santos.”

“That’s not a very appropriate thing to say in the workplace,” says Mel, frowning. But she doesn’t deny it. Because they TOTALLY ARE.

“It all makes sense,” says Trinity in disbelief.

Like she knew they were close. Langdon gets her a hot tea from a cafe every morning (Robby always asks where his is and Langdon snarks, “The break room, hands off.”) And the way they follow each other around and bump into each other without comment. That one time Langdon handed her a hair tie when hers snapped during a procedure and her too-bright smile.

“The stupid whistling. The weirdly good mood. You bought donuts. Oh my god. Mel, you and him? For real?”

Langdon’s face is not a nice face. “Can you go one day with causing a potential HR crisis?”

“I know way hotter dudes I can hook you up with, Mel,” Trinity tells her, enjoying this way more than she should. “Like I’m not a man enjoyer, but there’s this guy from med school who all my hetero friends say is a god at eating puss—“

“Okay, enough of that,” says Langdon firmly, and his hand is on the small of Mel’s back, herding her away, and he’s scowling. But Trinity follows, she’s so delighted. Mel and Mr. Asshole? Together? That’s so gold, it’s like platinum level gossip. Princess and Perlah are going to die. “Don’t you have a patient to neglect or something?”

“Possessive much, Langdon?” Trinity waggles her eyebrows. “Or are you that shitty in bed that you’re feeling a little threatened?”

“Frank is very good at cunnilingus, Trinity,” says Mel over her shoulder and ugh, she calls him Frank? And Trinity regrets all the teasing, because she did not need to know that. Or picture that. “I’m very well satisfied, thank you.”

And Langdon is grinning, an evil smug horny grin that immediately takes the wind out of Trinity’s sails.

“I am so texting Whitaker about this.”

“Tell Dennis I said hi!” calls Mel as Langdon ushers her into the break room. Where they’ll probably make out or say lovey dovey words to each other. (Probably not. Mel is a classy lady after all).

“This hospital,” Trinity says and then rushes off to hunt down Garcia.

[yoiisa]

Helloo, I dont know if youre requests are open (Sorry!!!) but I wanted to request a Sae smut where is sweet and shy girlfriend (us) who never speaks and always hides behind Sae's back, at home is a slut for his attention and wants him all night long if you know what I mean 🤭IF YOU WANT TO IGNORE THE REQUEST!!!!! I understand if it leaves you uncomfortable!! Anyways, thank you in advance (im sorry if my english is bad, its not my first language)

oh girlie. Oh girlie . . . i gotchu don't worry about a thing (¬ ₃ ¬)

Tags: pwp ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), slight dacryphilia, praise (dirty talk), afab reader, sex, finger sucking (idk what else to call it lol ToT), slutty reader

➜ when you tell people that you're dating the sae itoshi, you're always met with the exact same response: what? ➜ because genuinely how did this work out at all? he's so distant and cold, and you're so sweet and shy. people see the two of you together, your elbow linked with his, your hand on his bicep, and you staring up at him like he hung the stars in the sky and can't even piece together how the two of you even had a conversation, let alone started to date ➜ but here's the thing: sae adores how sweet and shy you are ➜ we see through sae as a little kid with rin, and then as an adult with shidou and a little bit with isagi that sae actually has a lot of capacity in him to care and nurture others around him. if he thinks you're worth it, then he'll for sure give you the time of day ➜ and he can't exactly explain why he was so drawn to you either, but all he knew is he'd give you all of the attention you needed. he's so down bad for you it's insane ➜ so unless soccer is preventing him from doing it, he'll drop everything he can and rush to your side whenever you call, he honestly gives doberman boyfriend vibes ➜ literally all it takes is a whisper of his name, at a volume a normal person would've never been able to hear, and he just materializes next to you, his hand on your cheek and his teal gaze trained on you

➜ but enough about him feining for you, let's talk about you feining for him ➜ because once the two of you are alone? oh god, it's like a switch flips in your brain ➜ pda and the likes are a bit off putting with you. you don't really enjoy things like kissing in public that much, the most you'll do is just hold hands or link arms ➜ but when it's just the two of you, you can't control yourself. you're attached at the hip with him, and he basks in the attention like a cat in the sun ➜ after a soccer game, you're especially needy. there's just something about sae in his prime element that has you squirming in your seat, and the two of you can't help it ➜ you're thinking entirely with your pussy, and your mind is trained on one thing. you want him inside of you, on top of you, just loving you. you want to be the apple of his eye, in the spotlight of his mind ➜ you want him. you want to be his

"Sae-uhhhh~!" you squeal as the tip of his cock brushes against your g-spot. Your lying flat on your stomach, his chest flush against his back as he ruts into your needy, wet, tight heat. You reach your arms up and back around his neck, a soft whine falling from your lips. He turns his head and places a kiss against your pulse point. Each roll of his hips sends his length deeper into you, and it takes everything in you to not buck yourself back into him. "I love you," you gasp. "I love you, I love this so much- ah!" "I know baby, I know. I love you too. Fuck." he groans. He nuzzles into your hair and brings his arm around to the front of your face. He cups the bottom of your face in his hand, and you greedily lick at the tips of his fingers. His slips his index and middle finger past your lips, muffling your moans as you greedily suck on his digits. Sae tosses his head back, his eyes screwed shut as he desperately tries to hold onto his sanity. Don't cum yet, don't cum yet, he repeats in his head. Fuck, don't think about it, you can't cum yet. It's too soon- shit! Your pussy clenches down on his length as he quickens his thrust in you. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and spit connects your lips to them stil. Loud, needy sounds spill from your mouth and tears spring at the corner of your eyes. Sae stares down at the debauched sight and can't help the smug smile that tugs at his mouth. He coos, "G-gonna come for me? Now? I- fuck me, holy shit . . . I can f-feel it . . . clenchin' around me so perfectly. C'mon Y/N, just give it to me." You nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut as your body goes rigid with pleasure. You think you can hear him in the background of your peak saying, "Pretty, so pretty, my pretty girl," but it drowns out behind the high-pitched keens that claw up your throat. Eventually, your eyes manage to peel open and you become aware of two very distinct facts: firstly, Sae is still hard. Secondly, the clock on the wall is only showing that it's 11:15. You still have at least another two or three hours left. "Again?" Sae asks, pulling out from you and flipping you onto your back. You position your feet on either side of his waist and smile. "Again, please . . ."

➜ you will not walk properly tomorrow

a/n: i should write this again but for bakugo, eren, and geto . . . hmmm, ideas, ideas . . .

[ghoulishhx]

im insane but i need facetime sex with frankie whilst hes away. he would be so shy and lowkey confused (old man doesnt get technology bless him) until you spread your legs for the camera and start drooling over the sight of his cock.

erm ANYWAYS

-💥

this 😵‍💫 oh my god. I've been thinking about this for days now, your requests make me fucking feral girl, I hope you enjoy this lil thing i whipped up!!

18+ MDNI below the cut :3

Frank Castle and FaceTime Sex - headcanon/drabble

he's such a fucking grandpa when it comes to technology. the first time you'd call him on facetime he'd pick up and put the phone to his ear

"no frank- move your phone in front of your face.. no frankie, i can see directly into your brain"

"I won't be able to hear ya if it's not up to m'ear doll.." he grumbles, completely oblivious to the situation.

"then turn your fuckin' volume up old man!!"

he finally catches on and he's met with your giggly face as he raises his eyebrows

"didn't know ya could do this, why didn't ya call me like this sooner babydoll?"

and from then on out he'd facetime you every night (if he could) from his shitty motel rooms, after you taught him it was a whole damn separate app on the phone. Frank loved being able to see you so candidly when he was away from home, often staying on the phone with you as you fell asleep, camera facing you as he stared lovingly at your unconscious form, hating how he wasn't there in person to hold you and kiss you as you dreamt soundly in his hold.

you were the one who initiated the inevitable facetime sex, it was only a matter of time until the light bulb went off in your head. instead of sending him sexy selfies for him to fuck his fist to, why not be his own personal cam girl?

you call him one night, earlier than usual because that day you had been needier than usual.

"everythin' ok sweetheart? was gonna call you in a couple hours-"

he's cut off as you angle the phone down, showing him your body in his favourite black lacy underwear. you devilishly grin as you watch the muscles in his jaw tick, watching him try and suppress a groan at the sight of you.

"fuck mama, ya tryna kill me or somthin'? feelin' needy?" he softly speaks into the microphone, his voice rough, laced with his own desire.

"mhm frankie, need you so bad.. been wanting you all day.."

"shh doll 'm here now.. want ya to do everythin' i ask, okay sugar?" his own hand travels down to his bulge in his jeans, roughly palming himself through the fabric, cock impossibly hard just from seeing your perfect body through the tiny screen.

you whine in response to his question, moving your hands down to your core but he stops you.

"not yet babygirl, want ya to pull y'bra down.. slowly. no need to rush, we got all night.. lemme see those pretty fuckin' tits."

you comply with his requests, pulling your breasys out and slowly kneading the flesh in your palm, twisting your nipples slowly as your breathing deepens, soft moans and whines escape your plush lips as you rut your hips into the air, chasing non existent friction as you clench around nothing. he can't help but shed himself with his clothes instantly, pulling his boxers down and exposing himself in record time, his arousal destroying him.

"good fuckin' girl, my good girl. wanna see what ya do to me? bein' so perfect f'me?... shit how do I turn the camera round.."

you laugh as you instruct him, and your laughs stop as you see him, thick, hard and dripping all over himself as he fucks into his hand, groaning your name as well as a string of curse words and strangled moans. you practically drool at the sight, sucking on your fingers in the camera before reaching down to play with your pebbled nipple as he requested.

"thatsss it babygirl, push y'panties to the side, need to see her.." you comply, moving the phone to show him your spread legs, soaked panties and slick cunt. franks eyes roll to the back of his head as his cock twitches desperately, fucking his hand quicker as precum oozes from his red tip. "fuckin' soaked sweet girl, rub your clit f'me, slowly.. attagirl."

he talks you through pleasuring yourself, telling you to speed up, rub harder, stop altogether. he makes you take it agonisingly slow until you're begging him through the receiver to let you touch yourself more, your release imminent as he continues edging you with his dirty words.

"gonna fuckin' ruin ya when i come home Monday.. fuck baby, teasin' me like this.. shit. need to fill that pretty lil mouth.. need to stretch that pretty pussy with my cock, that what ya want doll?"

"frankie- please.. 'm so close.. pleasepleaseplease-"

"been so good f'me doll, that's it cum for me. pretend it's me instead of ya fingers." his orgasm is close too, however he waits until yours crashes through you first, hearing you whine his name as you both cum together, gushing over your own hands wishing it were the others instead.

let's just say when he finally does come home, you both don't leave your shared bedroom for the entire day, calling your work telling them you're too sick when in reality you're getting stuffed full of him repeatedly until your knees give out.

being taught what facetime was, is the best thing that ever happened to frank.

[brainddeadd]

Thinking about being quinns best friend and the wags just having you in their lil gang but the newest wag assumes you're dating him

You were technically just Quinn’s best friend.

The WAGs had taken you in without hesitation—group chats, spa days, dinner reservations where the words “girls only” were thrown around like confetti. You’d been around longer than some of the players’ actual girlfriends, and everyone knew you and Quinn were practically inseparable.

So when the newest WAG leaned over during brunch and whispered, “How long have you and Quinn been dating?” like it was the juiciest secret, you nearly choked on your mimosa.

“We’re not,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off.

Her confused expression said it all. “Oh. I just assumed... the way he looks at you.”

And you brushed it off. But her words stayed.

Because later that night, when you and Quinn were curled up on his couch watching some dumb reality show and laughing too hard at the drama, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we were actually together?”

You froze, heart hammering.

And then, quietly: “Yeah. I do.”

He leaned closer, eyes soft. “Good. Because I think I’m in love with you.”

You blinked, your heart skipping like it was on ice skates.

“Quinn,” you whispered, unsure if you’d actually heard him or if your brain had finally caved under years of silent pining and decided to hallucinate.

But he was still looking at you—earnest, vulnerable, and more serious than you’d ever seen him off the ice. “I mean it,” he said. “I know it’s not exactly romantic to admit I didn’t even realize until someone else pointed it out, but… I’ve been treating you like mine for a long time.”

Your breath caught. “You have.”

“I just didn’t want to mess anything up. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie. “So what changed?”

He gave a soft laugh, like he couldn’t believe it took him this long. “Someone asked if we were dating, and my first thought wasn’t *‘no’.* It was *‘why aren’t we?’*” He shifted closer, knee brushing yours. “I love you. Not just like a friend. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

You could’ve cried—out of shock, relief, joy. All those years of late-night FaceTimes, shared road trip playlists, the way he’d always slide his arm around your waist in crowded rooms. The way he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

“I love you too, Quinn,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I think I always have.”

He smiled—slow and real, like the sun breaking through clouds. “So… can I kiss you?”

You nodded, already leaning in. “It’s about damn time.”

[miaoua3]

hii ! could you do a jeonghan drabble where like hes cuddling reader and soothing her period cramps away ? also could u make it 600 words+ (if u can!!) becus i LOVE jeonghan fluff and i only can find those short ones ☹️ thank you !

hii! ofc i can do it, i just don’t know if i can make it 600+ words as that is quite long and i have 20+ requests in my inbox atm😭 still, i hope that you like it!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(pairing: bf! jeonghan x f! reader)

warning: mentions of cramps and blood

you twist your whole body until your face ends up buried inside your pillow, eyebrows furrowed as you try to brave for another wave of pain and cramps.

you really hated surprises, especially when it’s a surprise period that we are talking about. you weren’t supposed to get it for another few days, usually somewhat on time. to say that you were completely unprepared for this is an understatement.

the cramps are so bad this time, you can’t honestly remember the last time they were this bad. unfortunately for you, the medicine doesn’t seem to be kicking in for some reason, leave you at mercy of the strong pain in your tummy.

you hold onto your tummy strongly, pushing your hands into your skin as you moan and groan in pain. you peak with one eye at the bloody sheets that you only had the strength to peel them off and throw them onto the floor, mentally making a note to put them to wash later, once your cramps stop feeling as if you are getting stabbed.

it is at moments like this you wish your boyfriend had a more flexible job, just so you could call him and ask him to come home.

almost like a prayer getting answered, you hear the front door unlocking, opening and closing, before you hear hannie’s sweet voice calling for you.

“angel? are you there? i’m home!”

you groan as you weakly call out “in the bedroom”.

in the matter of seconds, hannie appears, his joyful mood immediately souring at your state, cooing in empathy.

“oh baby why didn’t you say anything? i would’ve been home much earlier had i known that you got your period.”, he slowly approaches you before he sits down beside you, pushing the messy and frizzy hair out of your face as he looks at you with sad eyes.

you close your eyes as another wave of pain and nausea hits you, before you answer him through gritted teeth “didn’t want to bother you…plus you are here earlier either way so..”

jeonghan frowns at your words for a second before he bends down to kiss your temple, softly mumbling against your warm skin “you are never a bother to me, baby. next time, whatever the case-if you need me, call me.”

from there on, you completely shut your brain off, because jeonghan takes over and does everything he can think of to help you relax. takes a shower with you where he makes sure that the water is hot enough that it burns his skin off but he ignores the pain because he can see that it helps you with your pain. changes the sheets and puts the bloody ones into the washing machine. boils the water for the hot water bottle for you to hold onto.

and lastly, he gets into bed with you, his strong chest pressed deeply into your back as he hugs you from behind.

it seems that the painkiller finally started to kick in, or maybe your boyfriend has a magic touch, because the moment he stuck his hand under your shirt and started to softly massage and rub your tummy, your cramps started to get better, finally allowing you to relax and enjoy your boyfriends presence.

you close your eyes as you enjoy the series of kisses jeonghan softly presses into the nape of your neck, his lips taking time as he presses them into your skin. although you can feel how they are a bit scratchy, probably due to him biting them from all the stress he had to endure during the day, you just ignore the feeling and just…let his presence calm yours down.

his big and strong hand on your tummy continues to rub slow circles on it, the warm water bottle completely abandoned by you in the name of feeling the warmth jeonghan provides to you. his other hand (the one you are laying on) is intertwined with one of yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand.

you two don’t speak, whatever show playing on your tv providing the only sounds within the four walls of your shared bedroom.

you feel yourself slowly drifting off to dreamland, but before you can fully succumb to the sweet dreams, jeonghan presses one soft kiss onto your cheek, waking you up immediately upon feeling the touch on your skin.

his tired yet soft voice gently asks you “feeling better, my angel?”

you only have it in yourself to nod and whisper a small ‘thank you’ before you feel your eyes slowly close again, all on their own.

as you drift away, almost pain free and completely comfortable in your lover’s embrace, you hear his voice softly say

“nothing to thank me for. anything for you, baby. anything for you.”

[markkiatocafe]

for the writing event could u please do yushi with scientist 🥹

scientist

a short story with yushi of nct wish

⚛︎ warnings: slight teasing, silly oblivious yushi, other than that pure fluff!!!!!

⚛︎ synop: you thought that by now, your pining would be obvious to your best friend. but apparently, he needs to be a professional to pick up on your signs 🤔

⚛︎ pairing: gn!reader x bestfriend!yushi

⚛︎ w.c: 513

⚛︎ a/n: i rlly hope this is ok…. it maybe ooc so im so so sorry if it is!!!! pls be kind if you have feedback or criticism >< i hope you all enjoy tho :3 i also got a teeny bit carried away with this one…. woopsies…. sometimes i need to stop letting the words carry me instead of my own brain

you were having a movie night with yushi. rewatching a series that brought a lot of comfort and nostalgia to the both of you, harry potter, was always a good way to just unwind after a long stressful week. you had been friends for a while now, at least a few years, so hangouts like this weren’t uncommon. giggles, childishly made pillow forts, popcorn, and fun. well, over all these years, it seems like there has been an advancement in how you felt about yushi.

maybe it was the way he relentlessly teased you, maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. whatever it was, something had made you fall for yushi. and especially over this last year, you’ve been trying your hardest to give him signs, yet, apparently, the lingering touches and suspiciously-sweet compliments didn’t convince him.

“you know, yushi,” you spoke up, your voice muffled by the popcorn in your mouth, tone soft but holding a hint mischief, the sound of the movie still playing in the background. “you act like you’re all high-and-mighty, but you’re pretty oblivious to simple things.” you stated, your voice casual but teasing.

he raised an eyebrow, looking over at you and taking a piece of popcorn out of the bowl in between you two, eating it and swallowing before replying. “what do you mean?”

you let out a soft giggle, tilting your head and humming. “well, for example, yesterday. remember when i told you i got you your favorite perfume because i remembered you liked it?” 

“yeah…?” he replied.

“do you remember the time i got you an exo album the day after you told me you liked them...?” you asked, drawing out your voice more in hopes of getting the idea into his head.

he nodded, smiling softly as his eyebrows knot together, confused still but intrigued. “yeah, that was really sweet of you. why does that make me oblivious though?“

you giggled, rolling your eyes and looking back to the tv. “i think it would be pretty obvious by now that i like you, no? i mean… yeah, friends can do that, but i even called you cute before, and you didn’t even think twice about that???”

his eyes widened at your sudden confession. “woah, woah, woah… that was, like, a passing comment. i didn’t think you meant it in… that way, you can’t blame me for that.”

you shrugged, looking back over at him, the look in your eyes growing more tender by the second. “fair. i’m guessing that means you don’t like me back though, with how you didn’t even mention that?” you inquired, not mad or bitter, but you couldn’t deny there was a little sting in your heart.

“hey,” he furrowed his eyebrows, “i never said that! don’t go putting words in my mouth… i actually like you, too.” he said, his voice quieting down a bit.

the sting fluttered into a warmth, a warmer smile falling on your lips. “well, i guess that’s one thing we both agree on then, huh?” 

[crazylittlejester]

rambling out some thoughts about my modern au war for anyone who wants to hear em (as an apology for not writing anything for that au in a Hot Minute. also sorry for spelling mistakes im dyslexic and the brain fog is Bad today)

ive been seeing a lot of that tiktok trend with skaters dropping to their knees on the ice to ‘the winner takes it all’, and not only would my modern au War absolutely have done that trend, I genuinely think that whenever he’s feeling some big emotion he will choreograph something to a song he’s actively obsessing over, record him skating, and post it, because thats like the only way he has to express himself. thats how he communicates and that is quite literally the only way he knows how to tell people he’s upset or pissed or grieving because he cannot say those things in words

i haven’t talked about him in a while so “lore drop” to anyone not super familiar with this au lmao, but he did NOT come from a good home. he was not raised in good environments (between home and strict ballet studios that taught him that it is more important to be perfect and excel and progress than it is to properly take care of your body and learn its limits) and he is very bad at verbally communicating how he feels (partially because its hard for HIM to properly dissect the issue himself at this point). Like he’s gotten better at it because Twilight and Sky have been putting in WORK for the past eight years, but it’s still hard for him a lot of the time and skating is his outlet. It’s ALWAYS been his outlet, he throws every feeling he’s ever had into every single performance he gives and that’s what makes him so mesmerizing to watch because there is so much genuine realness from him behind WHATEVER he does. like yeah he does have natural talent and he is flexible and his lines have always looked good because of his build and coaches instructors and judges have always liked him for that, but what made him a world champion and what consistently won him gold medals was how terrifyingly powerful and impactful his performances were because he made people feel whatever the fuck he was. ability to do the jumps and turns only gets you so far, the life you breathe into your art takes you the rest of the way

he was so used to being ignored and neglected as a kid that his brain came up with the conclusion that it has to let out EVERYTHING it’s feeling when War finally is the center of attention in his performances and nobody’s looking away and people CANT ignore him. he has their attention, they HAVE to listen, they have to SEE him. and the performance that won him the equivalent of an olympic gold medal, that last performance he ever gave that he quit skating immediately after because of his coach (Cia) will absolutely end up going down as one of the most emotionally powerful programs in Hyrule history because he threw everything he had, everything he is and was, into that. all his anger at feeling helpless, all his anger at not being able to admit what happened to him or even seek help, all that sadness and loneliness and isolation he carried with him for so so long, and he put that out there in front of the entire world as basically a cry for help and while that alone obviously could not tell people what exactly was wrong, that performance DID end up getting him the help he needed because another coach (Impa) recognized there had to be something going on

as terrified as he is to ever return to skating because of what happened and because of the toxic mindset he’d had that he just FINALLY broke out of, War genuinely cannot live without it because it’s been so important to him for so long, it’s his outlet, and losing it forever would destroy him. dance is similar, but its just not the same to him and he misses it so badly and thats why his dumb ass hits the rink for a few hours every day on top of everything else because he can’t let it go

and the rare tiktoks from him where he’s skating out his negative emotions (and not just being silly and fucking around to lady gaga or whatever) still have quite the punch to them. he may not have a coach, but he’s maintained the same level of skill he had when he left because he still practices, and ofc his ability to put life into his performance is never something he’s struggled with because he feels so so much and he has no other way to release overwhelming emotions but through art

there are people in the skating community who do genuinely mourn losing him to retirement, there are so many people who want him to come back

i like showing the silly sides of him in this au (like the side of him that saw the weather was warm for the first time in months and decided to wear a crop top to class and not bring a coat just for it to rain and he was miserable, or the side of him that almost had a heart attack and died when lady gaga released a new album) because the whole au is supposed to be a bit silly and just fun, but he has sooooooo much more going on and so many other layers and i (insane) have put way too much thought into him and this au lmao

[xoxorory]

Floaties, Heatwaves & Stolen Kisses !

POV: Fem!Reader (Cabin Counselor, Daughter of Aphrodite,though it's not specified!) Pairing: Lifeguard!Percy Jackson x Cabin Counselor!Fem!Reader Genre: Romance, humor, flirting, established relationship, fluff, suggestive comments, babysitting chaos Word Count: ~3000 words Tag list: @simpingmyassoff , @shootingstargirl2001 (if you want to be added,comment below! !) Warning:English isn't my first lenguage,enjoy ! ! ! a/n: I've been inactive for a long time . . . (I mean in posting fics LOL),hopefully i'm back

1. Melting Skies

The sun hung above Camp Half-Blood like some divine punishment. It wasn’t normal heat—it was godly. Like Hephaestus accidentally left his forge on, and now all of Long Island was preheating at 475°F.

I sat under a canopy near Hermes Cabin, fanning a group of sweaty, grumpy kids with a giant palm leaf.

“My shirt is sticking to my soul,” complained Caleb, a dramatic little son of Hecate.

“My face is melting,” added a girl, collapsing into the grass.

I was about to cry when I spotted salvation in swim trunks.

Percy Jackson. Lifeguard whistle, no shirt, water-slick curls, and that smug grin.

“Hot out here, princess?” he called.

I looked up, fanning myself. “What gave it away, seaweed brain?”

“I’ve got a plan,” he said, lifting a cooler and some floaties. “Lake day. I already got the okay from Chiron. We cool the kids off, and I don’t have to watch you melt.”

“Does your plan include bribing me with alone time and cold drinks?”

He walked up, leaned down, and whispered, “Only if you let me rub your shoulders later, princess.”

I blushed. Hard.

“Are you guys married?” asked a tiny Demeter girl out of nowhere.

“WHAT?” we both exclaimed.

“You look at each other like my mom and dad do before they kiss,” she added.

Percy grinned. “Not married. . . yet.”

I gave him the death glare. He just winked.

2. One,Two,Three. . .To the water, demigods!

Twenty minutes later, kids were splashing in the lake. Percy was up on his lifeguard stand looking like a water god, and I stood beside Piper and Leo on the dock, keeping watch.

“No pushing!” I shouted at the Hermes kids trying to body-surf.

Piper nudged me. “You know he’s been staring at you since you walked up, right?”

“Not my fault I look hot in shorts.”

“Not his fault he wants to marry you.”

I rolled my eyes—then Percy blew his whistle and waved me over.

“Hey, counselor,” he said. “Need help with floaties… and I think my back’s burning.”

“Sure you’re not just craving a little attention, love?”

He handed me the sunscreen. “Please. This is a life-threatening situation.”

I rolled my eyes and began rubbing the lotion onto his shoulders. He groaned softly.

“Did you just moan?” I teased.

“That was a restrained sigh of survival, princess.”

“From what, exactly?”

“You in shorts. Touching me. Acting like it’s nothing.”

I smirked, dragging my fingers just a little lower.

“What if I said I was doing it on purpose?”

“Then I’m filing a complaint with Aphrodite because her daughter’s trying to kill me.”

We were very into it when—

“Why is she rubbing you like that, Percy?”

Caleb. Again.

“Uh... sunscreen,” I said.

“She loves me,” Percy added smugly.

“Does love mean touching backs?”

“Only after curfew,” he muttered under his breath.

I smacked his arm.

3. Floaties, Flirting, & Chaos

The chaos continued—kids were flinging lake water, floaties were capsizing, Leo was making a raft out of juice boxes, and Percy kept diving into the water like some hero from Baywatch.

I sat with my legs in the water, letting the cool ripple against my calves. Percy joined me, his curls wet and clinging to his forehead, his smile soft.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said.

“Hey,waterboy.”

“Thanks for today.”

“For wrangling demigod toddlers in the heat?”

“For that. And for being drop-dead gorgeous while doing it. And for not drowning me in the lake when I said we were married.”

“You're lucky you're cute.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

He leaned in, his hand brushing my thigh just under the water.

“Pretty” he whispered, “I’m madly in love with you, and I want to kiss you properly.”

“You sure you won’t combust?”

“Only one way to find out.”

And then—

“EWWW! They’re gonna kiss!” someone shrieked.

“BOOOO!”

Percy groaned, resting his forehead on mine. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I told you,” I sighed, “we’re owed at least one uninterrupted kiss.”

“Princess, I swear, the first moment we’re alone—”

“I’m cashing in. With interest.”

4. Sunset & Soft Things

Finally, the little ones were back in their cabins, passed out from too much sun and sugar. The counselors retreated to their own corners of camp, and Percy tugged me toward the dock.

The lake shimmered in the golden-pink of sunset. It was quiet, warm, perfect.

“You ever think about the future?” I asked, curling into his side.

“All the time,” he murmured. “Usually with you in it. In every version.”

I looked up at him. “You’re dangerously romantic today.”

“I’m just in love with the most beautiful girl in the universe. Happens.”

“I’ll allow it.”

He turned to me, eyes serious now.

“I want more days like this. Chaos, floaties, tiny goblins interrupting our kisses... and you. Always you.”

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend again, seaweed boy?”

“No,” he said, smirking. “I’m reminding you that you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

And this time, when he kissed me?

No one interrupted.

[lunarriviera]

so here's what i can't stop thinking about tonight [spoilers for jitd ep 15, and mo du too, probably], bc somehow my brain is still snagged on scenes from a whole week ago. ofc we all flipped our shit, and rightly so, about how insane they were for this, inserting an entire afterlife sequence that takes up fully a third of the episode just to demonstrate that in fact gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day—all instead of having luo wenzhou say one single incriminating line ("he's my lover") and then hork into a garbage can.

but i'm stuck somewhere else tonight, and it's on: "i'm so tired."

fei du doesn't even need to say it. look at his face, these are the lineaments of someone exhausted to paper thinness. but what i keep putting together and taking apart in my head, though, is precisely why he's so tired. and somehow that just makes it so much worse.

because as lwz will say to him later, in one of the extras, he was never worried about whether fei du could outsmart anyone he wanted to. we already know he's stunningly intelligent, we've seen him thinking dozens of moves ahead of everyone else, constantly, from the time he was a child. that's actually not the exhausting part. it's not even his master plan, his long con, the entire-life-as-undercover-operation that's taking a toll on him—or not that, per se; not that qua that. think of the scene in episode 14 when he and luo wenzhou are interrogating zhou huaijin, and fei du tells him: dong xiaoqing may be a killer, but she was just the weapon—don't you want to know who was holding the knife? fei du's whole life purpose has been bent towards uncovering the people with the knife in their hands.

so if it's not his brilliance that's being taxed, or his capacity for plans that stretch over a lifetime, what precisely has made him so tired?

my answer varies, but tonight i think it's two different things, and the first of them is this one: he's unbelievably lonely.

[major spoilers from this point.] even during the long years when fei chengyu tortured him and his mother, she was still there. she was at least allowed to read to him every night (although even that was carefully circumscribed, and she spent most of the time trying to inculcate him with furtive ethical messaging, so he wouldn't be lost). he is able to remember her nursing him when he was ill, but remotely, coldly, as if anything caring or gentle, even eye contact or unnecessary touch, might be punished (and probably would have been). still, he had her. they were together; he wasn't alone in hell.

even after her death, of course, there was tao ran, and it's completely understandable that young fei du would have adhered to him, as thoughtful and sweet-tempered and normal as tao ran is. where lwz can be sharp-tongued and brusque, tao ran is always pouring oil on troubled waters, adding tact and kindness to a situation. in the novel, lwz tells teenaged fei du bluntly, during an outing, "you shouldn't be here, you don't fit in," and fei du smiles: "he didn't want to fit in."

i think when you're a teenager, you can probably tell yourself that, and almost believe it, especially when you've been violently trained the way he was: told repeatedly that you're antisocial, you don't need human connection, you don't crave it, you don't even want it—that kind of sentimental idiocy is for stupid people, people beneath you.

fei du not only internalized that belief, but he's had to behave as though it were true. to play the edgelord playboy with icy purity and, most of all, complete success—since partial success is failure, in this case—no one can get to know you well enough to know what you're really up to. he might have enjoyed some parts of the game; he's to a degree risk-taking, thrill-seeking by nature (as well as, again, by brutal psychological experimental conditioning). the motorcycle/car racing, the epic performative partying, the dissipated indifference, clawing his way to the top of his father's corporation—as the novel says "a beast in human clothing," the "domineering director-general"? sure, some of it might have been fun, or at least distracting. being superb at anything is its own keen pleasure, if you're smart enough.

but later luo wenzhou will have observed fei du from close-up enough to realize that it's all a disguise. and it's one that costs him dearly.

and that's the other thing that's worn him out, i think. first there's the loneliness of carrying it by yourself, having not one other person in the world to know your heavy secrets, the weight of your isolation, because telling anyone the truth would risk dragging them down with you; but there's also the fatigue from just having to keep it up, day after day, getting up every morning and pinning a manipulative disguise onto your face. if parts of the charade were ever stimulating, or even thrilling, that patina of charm has worn off. he just wants a warm bowl of congee and to go to bed on time, like a person, now.

because since fei chengyu's accident, fei du has spent most of his adult life around normal, non-sinister human beings. he thinks he can just mimic their behavior; he doesn't realize he's actually chosen to adopt it as his own. i'm so sorry to tell you this, feishir, but in many ways your genius plan to successfully impersonate a monster has, in fact, failed. you're actually just a regular young adult. you're too kind to strangers. you're far too careful and considerate with grief-stricken old ladies and frightened children—you're even about to pet your cat, and remember what it means to stroke a small warm animal with no purpose other than affection, only wanting it to feel safety and pleasure (and feeling those yourself, in return). abject failure to become an amoral soulless ghoul, president fei; your satanic dad really blew it (which is ofc fei du's other purpose in life: to prove fcy wrong, though he goes about it in the most agonizing way possible).

and then, worst of all, fei du started flirting with luo wenzhou, which probably started as something amusing to do while waiting around for tao ran; but it's become oddly addictive, needling lwz while feeling increasingly curious about how he'll respond. and then—gradually, slowly, as in "slowly the ice age ended"—luo wenzhou, too, has become a trusted, reliable source of safety and pleasure, and rare human connection. fei du, in fact, has started to like him.

but liking him is, he also knows, incredibly dangerous. he thinks he can't have that, not any of it, at this point. if lwz finds out even one of his horrific secrets, and then gets involved, it could all be ruined.

so fei du is alone, and he really doesn't like his job anymore. but he can't quit, and he can't let anyone else into the aloneness. of course he's tired. anyone would be tired, even ruthlessly self-controlled geniuses who tell themselves constantly how sinister they are.

and that's probably a third thing that's worn him down: the unending effort of continually repeating to himself that he's inhuman, he's made wrong, he's broken. fei du doesn't realize this habitual attempt at reinforcing fei chengyu's training has never made it any more true, but what is happening is that it's ineluctably starting to fray him, shred him at the edges. keeping attachment at bay, holding back from your own natural instincts to be close to others, to share your confidences with them, to know and be known? pretending not only that you don't like anyone, but that you aren't even capable of liking?

the cultural critic joyce carol oates wrote once, in an essay on the poet sylvia plath, of this kind of self-hatred: "in art, it can lead to silence; in life, to suicide." and that's precisely what we see fei du choosing here, to be honest (and we can talk some other time about the ways in which fei du's ma has turned sinister in his unconscious: a death-bringer in white, sitting on her funeral bier, inviting him to give up on the arduousness and self-loathing and loneliness of his life).

in the novel luo wenzhou tells tao ran in the emergency waiting room: “when other people get brought in there, they have someone waiting outside. if he doesn’t have anyone, i’m afraid he’ll be broken-hearted and won’t be willing to come back.” tao ran can't believe he's hearing lwz, of all people, say this about fei du, of all people—but in the drama, this is made literal: lwz turns out to be right. if it weren't for his being there, urgently wanting fei du alive and around to give him problems and cause him trouble, wanting him healthy and condescending and annoying, making sarcastic remarks and smiling his irritating peach-blossom smile and just generally being a royal pain in luo wenzhou's ass—if it weren't for luo wenzhou's need for him having become so suddenly, unexpectedly overwhelming that it's literally palpable, fei du's tiredness would have won out.

fortunately, as it is, he's going home now, where he can actually rest in reality, not just in the afterlife. the secrets are coming out, one by one. he won't be alone anymore, and he won't have to keep up the role of lead villain, slain by his own hand at the end of the play. and, if or when he forgets and falls back into old habits, luo wenzhou will be there to fuss at him and whack him on the back of the head, force-feed him vegetables, blow-dry his hair, make him wear long underwear, handcuff him to the bed to sleep, provide him with new parents and a pair of cats—and above all, love him so consistently and so fiercely that there's no room anymore for anything but simple contentment, and sanity, and quiet peace.

[alillenn]

I feel like I'm the only person who doesn't headcanon Jimmy and Curly as childhood friends. Idk why but I see them as meeting later in life as adults. Maybe it's that Curly says "I've known him for a long time," instead of something like "I've known him forever," or "I've known him my whole life," or something along those lines. I just think Curly would say something to allude to an even bigger chunk of time that they've known each other if that were the case, but maybe that's just how my brain works.

I think they'd be in their mid to late 30s with Curly being the older one by a few years when canon takes place and probably in their early 20s when they meet for the first time.

I think the way they meet is something like a mutual friend introduces them. They do share a friend group so that's not unlikely. Jimmy is standoffish and intimidating because he's never been good at meeting new people, and who was this dork that his friend was trying to introduce him to? In reality, Curly is way cooler than Jimmy and he can feel that. It makes him insecure about his place in the friend group.

Eventually, Jimmy realizes Curly isn't too bad. They even become closer friends with each other than either of them were with the mutual friend that introduced them.

Curly's surprisingly good at handling Jimmy's irrational thought process when he's having a bad day. He's a grounding force that can absorb the strays that Jimmy throws at him and guide him toward something more productive. To an extent, of course. Jimmy also knows how to hurt someone with surgical precision that even Curly has no defenses for. Jimmy knows when he goes too far, though, and has his ways of apologizing. None of which ever include the words "I'm sorry," of course, but Curly is generous enough to read between the lines. More generous than Jimmy deserves sometimes.

Jimmy may not be great with words, but when Curly can't muster the strength to get out of bed or leave the house, Jimmy has no problem hanging out on his couch or at the foot of his bed just to keep him some company. He knows what it's like to want to crawl into a hole and not come out, and sometimes another person just existing around you in silence is enough to help you snap out of it.

Both of them drink and smoke pretty heavily, and they enable each other horribly in that way. Constant shot challenges and trying to out-drink each other. Weekends become a blur from 5 pm Friday night to 6 am Monday morning. They grow out of this for the most part by their late 20s but not before both of them spend a night in the drunk tank and Jimmy loses his license once.

Curly is the first one to clean up. He wants something more out of life than his current reality. Luckily for him, he meets a recruiter for a long haul space freighter company who's hiring and offers (unpaid) on-the-job training, no college degree required! What an opportunity!

It's hard, being away from everything you've ever known for months on end, traveling to planets and space stations you never get to actually see for customers you never get to know carrying unknown cargo that must be valuable, because it's protected better than your own sleeping quarters.

There's a distance between Curly and Jimmy the first time he returns. Their friends throw a party, and Jimmy is genuinely happy to see him again, even if he is pissed that he decided to leave for some stupid job. Things are almost like they were before. Almost. Curly doesn't drink as much, and he doesn't smoke at all, not wanting to get addicted again before his next mission and all that.

It's like Jimmy's meeting him for the first time again. Sure he's still the same in the ways that matter, but... he's different. He's changed. And Jimmy hasn't.

Things never quite go back to how they were, but nothing ever does, right? They're both in their 30s now, they can't keep living like they're 25. It's a miracle neither of them ended up with a kid amongst all the other dumb shit they've done. Curly's always been a romantic, waiting until he finds "the one," whatever that means, before he ditches the condoms. And Jimmy's sperm count is too low to make unprotected sex a meaningful risk. Juvenile behavior aside, they still make the most of the time that they do get together.

It's during one of these "off seasons" that Jimmy isn't able to pretend. He got fired about a month or two ago, and his unemployment is going to dry up soon. A lightbulb goes off in Curly's head. Turnover is pretty high at Pony Express, and another crewmember just quit after this most recent mission ended.

It takes a lot of convincing and breaking through Jimmy's reinforced walls, but Curly finally persuades his best friend to join him. Living on a spaceship is better than living on the streets. For the first time in years, they'll get to see each other more than a few times every other year. Who knows, they'll be seeing each other every day, maybe they'll even get sick of each other.

Just because Curly's co-captain now doesn't mean his best friend can jump the line. Jimmy has to climb the ladder the same as everyone else did. But connections do matter in this business, and Curly has always vouched for his friend. It's only a few more years before Curly gets the captain's seat, and he has just the person in mind to fill the chair to his left.

[yuukei-yikes]

idr if ive sent an ask like this before but. im sending it again if so.

forever thinking about how shintaro lost all three of his only friends on the same day. the anniversary of his dad dying, too.

so yeah. while he is extremely cringefail. i would shut myself in for four years too if that happened to me. like understandable have a nice day.

shintaro goes thru the horrors and we should talk about that more. like almost every route, on or near the anniversary of his dad and three of his only friends dying, he has to like. we all know it varies on who dies but in general he has to witness at least some of his new friends die.

paired with retaining. top ten characters that go thru it. shintaro wouldnt be number one bc hibiya and kano but hed be like. number three? i guess?

deciding on Who suffers more is a little pointless because it feels kind of bad to be like so what's worse? pretending to be your sister's corpse or a timeloop of 10 years? Like both are bad

however ur so right. shintaro is my little meow meow cringe fail idiot prince. something i love about kagepro and i think it's genuinely really well done is the representation of mental health. shintaro loses all 3 of his friends in one day, of course he's going to react like this. he's even under the impression one of them killed herself directly because of him. this guy's a messssss. iirc, in the novels at one point he even says why was i the only one left? so he definitely also had a bit of survivor's guilt there as well. tbh i think everyone in the dan had some survivor's guilt in regards to the person they died with. why was i chosen and not them? cause in kido's pov it also sounds like that when talking abt rin.

anywaysss. so shintaro is a funny guy. depressed king and with reasons to be sad and traumatized, he's got a strong sense of justice and always acts on what he thinks is right. it's funny that he's also so painfully awkward and anxious, but i think the whole beginning arc of kagepro really tells u who he is. shintaro is shown not being able to even TALK to customer service employees, cause he mumbles everything and stumbles over his words, yet like an hour later he's YELLING AT AN ARMED ROBBER THATS GRABBING HIM BY THE NECK. BOY WHAT😭 shintaro's principles always coming on top of anything else he might be feeling is awesome. it shows again in novel 7 when he's kinda awesome and smooth facing saeru and right after falls to his knees bc mary and kido said it wasn't That cool.

and this is all without mentioning retaining eyes. bro post str shintaro. what a delight. i love him. i wrote a stupid shintaro&takane fanfic once where i sorta go into it of how weird it is for him to live past That august, with everything he knows now. if u care here's a link *kicks rock*

shintaro is already pretty self centered as is. but i think very early on post str, now that retaining has been activated, all the routes bleed together and makes him very confused. and this time forever because retaining has been activated and he's. going to be alive from now on. no more resets. so he HAS to deal with it.

a genius or not, a human brain isn't Made to hold onto different memories of different lifetimes like this, so i think post str shintaro can't help being insensitive to others (in that fanfic i wrote, shintaro realizes him and takane in this final route never talked about her as ene, so while to him it was normal bc of retaining, she was still needing some closure on it)

and now ill mention my kagefuture bullshit SORRY!!! SORRY!!! idk if u even read my fancomic but basically shintaro is acting a little stupid in there. like acting without thinking stupid. i find it very fun to imagine an older shintaro doing that because he's spent so much time Stressing about what's happening and what's going to happen because it's finally different from other routes and that's scary, that to get to the point where he's a little more chill about it, it's inadvertently accomplished by Not Thinking. i like to imagine him living day to day without thinking of what will happen later because if he does that he'll spiral. so he sort of ends up in these weird situations like man. how did i not see this one coming

[crybabyddl]

In My Room

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!), sexual tension, sexual themes, mentions of weed, death, su!c!de, and SH, all characters are 18+, 18+ content. MDNI.

Author's Note: this is something different to what I normally write. Just feeling very sappy and a bit angsty, so here's what I'm giving you. Maybe you'll like it. Inspired by 'In My Room' by Julia Wolf.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Eddie's fingers trace a straight line through the dust that's accumulated on the shade of the lamp on your nightstand. It's not much, but it's enough that he has to wipe his hand on the leg of his jeans. The door to your room has been closed for a month now, so your scent is still lingering from the last time you sprayed your Sand & Sable perfume—the one that Eddie finds himself inhaling in large doses, even spraying the bottle you left at his house on himself before leaving for work.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He's been googling your name at least once every day, just to see if any more news articles came out. They were hard to read; they didn't do you justice. "loved by friends and family" wasn't enough to describe just how much of your heart you'd given the people in your life. He knew it was unrealistic to expect from a journalist, but "angel on earth" was the only true epitaph for you.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Too scared to move anything, he sits on your bed, staring at the pale yellow walls before inhaling deeply, allowing his eyes to close. He imagines you coming up behind him and obstructing his vision with your hands.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

The way your life slowly slipped from his hands as he cradled you. He'd tried to stop the bleeding, but there wasn't much else he could do. The last time you looked in his eyes was permanently branded in his brain, burning and scarring in a way that severely wounded Eddie, but was almost comforting in a sense.

I like when it's dark out, October will cure me

He dared to open your closet, immediately recognizing the skirt you wore on Halloween when the two of you dressed up as Bender and Claire from The Breakfast Club. You looked beautiful that night, at the Hellfire Club's Halloween campaign party.

I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?

He thinks back to the first time you met, in the woods behind the school. You wanted to try smoking weed, and your friends asked Eddie to meet you there one afternoon the first week of school. He always wondered why you didn't ask him yourself, but he assumed it was because you didn't want to risk your peers hearing that you wanted to buy drugs from the local Satanist freak.

Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me.

Eddie couldn't help himself. He would call your landline constantly, once in the morning, and once before bed. He never left a message, not wanting your voicemail box to fill up and prevent him from hearing your voice again.

I slit my own throat, just to see if you'd mourn me, yeah

The scene replayed in his mind, the way Vecna had his hand wrapped so tightly around your throat. Just as your breathing was about to cease, he grabbed you by your hair and turned you to face your friends. With a single sharp claw, Vecna dragged his finger deep across your neck, giving Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie a front row seat to your death—the image of blood cascading down the front of your body never to be forgotten.

Eddie knew it was crazy and stupid, but he did it anyway. He took apart an old razor that had been sitting in his bathroom cupboard for a couple years, gliding the metal against the pale skin on his left wrist. Not too deep, he knew that would upset you... he just wanted to see if, maybe, blood sacrifices worked. What if that was all it took to bring you back? But alas, his efforts failed to return you to him.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Your favorite jean jacket was on the back of the chair at your vanity. It had been too cold to wear it that fateful day, opting instead for your olive green army jacket with the fleece lining. In a way, Eddie was glad you weren't wearing it, it would've made things feel too real. One month was enough time to still deny the truth, that you were actually gone.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He saw the terrible articles written about himself following your death. Accusations that you'd killed yourself because your boyfriend filled your head with blasphemy and wizardry. It was bullshit, but it was more believable than a monster from another dimension claiming the lives of people who were struggling to get by.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

At least your parents believed him. They knew Eddie loved you too much to let anything happen to you. To their knowledge, you'd died from the earthquake, falling onto a sharp rock that impaled your throat. If this was how it felt to know the truth, he knew it was better for them not to be aware of it, as shitty as it felt to lie to them.

They were kind enough to let him visit whenever he wanted, knowing he'd just skulk to the end of the hallway to the right of the kitchen and quietly observe. They pretended not to hear the choking back of sobs from their perches in the living room, opting instead to start a pot of boiling water in case Eddie wanted a cup of tea before he left.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

He wanted to be angry at you, wanted to scream up at the sky. How could you leave him? How was he supposed to get by without you? You were supposed to be next to him on stage at graduation, slow dancing and sneaking swigs from his flask at the prom you were definitely going to ditch after an hour to get high at Skull Rock. He opened the closet again, imagining what kind of dress you would've worn. He'd assumed everything had stayed the same as you'd left it, but upon further inspection, he noticed a hanger with a plastic covering over it tucked away to the left of the rack. He made a mental note that it belonged between your purple raincoat and your graduation robe that you'd gotten fitted for the week prior to the tragedy.

I want your things in my–

Carefully laying the bagged hanger on the bed, he unzipped the swishy black cover, revealing what was going to be your prom dress. He stared down at his right ring finger. Your dress was navy blue, the exact shade of the stone in the middle of his ring. It made his heart swell, your thoughtfulness present even after you'd left.

You look so cool getting high

It was Eddie's idea, going to the field that turned into a drive-in theater in the summer. He'd rolled a joint, expertly packed and long enough to get the both of you higher than the hills—his version of a rose. He'd gotten so worked up on the drive over to your house. He kept telling himself it wasn't a date, but how could he believe otherwise when you skipped down your porch steps wearing such a sweet outfit? After getting in his van, you immediately started messing with the radio, hoping to find something other than Madonna, to no avail. Eddie noticed your demeanor shift, clearly unhappy with the music.

"Check the glove compartment, I think I've got some tapes in there that might be more your taste."

And you did just that, selecting the I Love Rock 'n Roll tape and putting it in the cassette player.

The drive was short, but felt all too long for the man in the driver's seat, having to settle for stealing quick glances at you as you sang along to Joan Jett with your eyes closed.

You made everything look effortless, at least that's how it felt to Eddie. You were leaning against the rock, peering over his shoulder as he rifled through his backpack in search of his lighter. Your perfume invaded his senses, and it scared him, knowing that the smell of it would instantly bring you to the front of his mind from that day forward.

No handlebars, you wanna fly

Wayne had finally decided to let Eddie take the motorcycle for a spin after an hour of begging. He'd helped repair it all summer, and all he wanted was to go for a ride. But he wanted you with him. He sped down the roads of Hawkins, nearly running over a turtle on his way to your house.

You weren't expecting anyone, so when you heard the doorbell ring, your first instinct was that it was on the television. That is, until it sounded again, this time with a knock on the door to accompany it. You tried to see who it was from the window near the door, but it was too dark and you'd wake up your parents if they saw the glow of the porch lights seeping through their cream-colored voile curtains. So you decided to take the risk, opening the door to find Eddie, helmet in hand, with Wayne's black bike on the side of the street behind him.

"What are you doing?" You whispered with a hiss.

Your parents would tear you a new one if they knew you had become friends with Eddie, but he wasn't anything like the town of Hawkins made him out to be. But they'd absolutely have a cow if they found out you were about to sneak out to ride on his motorcycle. But the smile on your friend's face was too charming to even consider turning him down. He gave you the helmet, much to your protest. He took you for a joyride around the block, passing by the school and flipping off the building. You'd be graduating in a few months, and you were going to do everything in your power to make sure Eddie would be walking in a cap and gown beside you.

The ride was overwhelming in every sense of the word. You were cold, the air whipping against your short-clad legs, only a sweatshirt to protect your arms, but you were also warm, the fire in your spine and cheeks still burning from when Eddie brought your hands around his waist, telling you to hold on tight. You were anxious, playing out the scenario that awaited you if your parents had woken up, picturing the scowls on their faces as you climbed through your bedroom window to already find them waiting for you. On the other hand, you'd never felt more free. If you could do this, what couldn't you do?

You look so cool, I wanna die

Eddie eventually takes you back to your house, but it's the last thing he wants to do. If it were up to him, he'd have you pack a bag and hop back on the motorcycle. He'd ask you where you wanted to go, and he'd ride off in that direction. He'd make sure you had everything you needed to be content. You were the first person to make him feel like himself. He had other friends, sure, but he had a role to play for the underclassmen in Hellfire Club. He didn't have to be anything other than himself for you—the desire to look after you came naturally, and he found it by no means to be a burden.

He gave you a boost so that you could scale the flower trellis below your bedroom. You went to lift the window pane, but it remains in its place. It was locked—you weren't expecting to leave the house tonight. You looked down at Eddie, whispering what the problem was. He instructs you to come down, grabbing you by the hips to guide you to the ground. Being the excellent carjacker and delinquent he was, he knew how to crack open a window before he knew how to even spell the word 'delinquent'. With a shimmy of his multi-tool, the glass of your bedroom window rose like it'd been able to open the whole time. He jumps back down, ready to assist you in returning you to your bedroom safe and sound. He doesn't expect you to wave him in, silently asking him to come up and join you. He wasn't about to say no to you; he'd never dream of it.

Eddie was about to start sweating from places other than his underarms, the physical exertion of climbing up and down multiple times expending more energy than he'd anticipated. You were taking off your sweatshirt that you'd put on to get cozy while watching tv, and your pajama shirt lifted in the process. Eddie wished you were facing the other way. He knew it was wrong, to fantasize about seeing his friend's breasts, but what was he supposed to think about? For him to act like you weren't attractive would be impossible. He'd been fighting off the increasingly frequent thoughts for a few weeks now, hoping they'd subside on their own. However, it seemed like they weren't going anywhere, and he didn't know how much longer he could withstand it. Your shorts were so short—had they gotten shorter since the last time he stared at your ass, five minutes ago? The universe was playing a cruel trick on him, he'd been sure of it. He felt his dick twitch in his jeans at the thought of you hiking them up on purpose, like you were teasing him.

"Could you help me? I think my necklace got caught in my hair."

It felt like fate, the perfect excuse to get closer to you without having to make the move himself. You had in fact gotten your necklace entangled with a knot in your hair, probably from the wind. He stood behind you, assessing how to detangle the piece of jewelry. He tried moving some of your hair out of the way, moving most of it over your left shoulder. He was able to get a clearer view of the problem, but in an attempt to free some of your hair, he might've pulled too hard.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" Eddie could picture the scowl on your face and how your brows were pinched together in impatience. He refocused on the matter at hand, finally making some progress in the detangling.

He was oblivious to the fact that his breath was hitting your clavicle, causing goosebumps to form on your chest. He continued making steady work with his hands, eventually separating your heart-shaped necklace from the hair at the nape of your neck.

You turned to face him, hand held out to retrieve your jewelry. Eddie complied, placing the dainty chain in your outstretched palm. Before he can stop the thought, he's imagining your freshly painted nails, burgundy, scratching down his back as he thrusts into you just right.

Is it too soon to say what's on my mind?

"So, uh, why'd you want me to come up here?" Eddie asked, suddenly feeling out of place, and slightly paranoid that you could see the filthy things running rampant in his mind.

Without a word, you hung your necklace on the little metal hook on your jewelry holder. Once done, you walked over, standing right in front of him, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes found his. You took one of his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers. It wasn't uncommon for you to hold his hand, but the silence made the air thick with a tension that Eddie only felt when he was fighting off the dirty images being conjured by his traitorous brain.

Next thing he knew, you were leading him to your bed, pulling him to straddle over top of you. He doesn't remember if it was his doing or yours, but somehow, your lips were on each other. He wanted to be a gentleman, give you a chance to stop and change your mind. But when you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, it renders him defenseless. The sigh that slipped out of Eddie was desperate, and he would've been embarrassed if you weren't completely scrambling his senses.

He was hard, painfully so, precum having already created a wet patch on his boxers. He cradled your face in his hands, deepening the hot and heavy embrace. You took a risk, slipping your hands under his shirt, dragging your fingers down his chest, not stopping until you reached below his navel, unknowingly bit your lip when you felt his happy trail peaking just above the waistband of his boxers.

"You're so hot." you breathed, looking up into Eddie's eyes. You had no words to describe them other than beautiful, and you momentarily considered buying eyeliner in that chocolate hue you couldn't get enough of.

He wants to tell you he loves you. It's on the tip of his tongue, though it's preoccupied at the moment, swiping the underside of your top lip. If you kept lifting your hips to meet his like that, he'd end up cumming in his pants. Before he can even open his mouth to warn you, you're tugging down his pants and grabbing his dick through his boxers.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he swallows hard. "I've dreamt of this, you know."

Your giggle is quiet, but it crashes like waves in his ears. You had the advantage, no doubt about it. He would get on his knees and beg if that was what you asked of him. Your lips creep up the side of his neck, leaving ghosts of kisses until they're decorating the shell of his ear.

"So have I."

Fuck it.

Eddie pulled down your shorts, taking a second to admire the cute pair of underwear you'd chosen without expecting to see him. A baby pink thong, a complete contrast to the Led Zeppelin shirt and Hawkins athletics sweatshorts that you'd chosen as pajamas. The thong is discarded somewhere on your bed; it's unimportant right now. A kiss on your lower stomach makes your breath hitch. Eddies hands rubbed along your thighs, his rings only adding to the excitement you felt from his touch.

"You gonna let me taste you?" he asked, wanting to be polite despite knowing the answer.

You nodded.

He lowered himself to meet your pussy, breath fanning over the sensitive area. He could see your arousal starting to drip out of you. The mix of your perfume and your body was intoxicating. He kissed you, licking the skin on your inner thighs before moving closer to where you needed him most. The sounds you made, the gasps, breaths, and whimpers were making Eddie feel drunk. Surely, he was in heaven, and you were the angel making his dreams come true.

His tongue circled your clit, his lips closing around it as he devoured you. He briefly dips the muscle into your hole before replacing it with his middle finger.

"You're so wet, fuck." he groaned, subconsciously grinding his hips into your bed.

"Need you in me, please." the last word becoming a whine as Eddie detached every part of himself from you.

Pulling down his boxers, you grabbed a hold of his cock. You gave it the perfect amount of attention, licking up the shaft before taking all of it. Your hand was gripping his thigh, and it was unclear if you were doing so to stabilize Eddie or yourself.

"Shit, shit! You're too good at that—don't wanna cum yet," Eddie managed to pry you off of him as you frowned. "Don't look at me like that, honey. I'm just giving you what you wanted."

The second part felt slightly patronizing, like you were an impatient brat who needed to be fucked right then and there to feel satisfied. And maybe you were, neither of you was to say. The tip of Eddie's dick prodded your wetness, but he pauses.

"What are you–"

"Condom." was all he said.

"Pill." you countered, reaching out to play with the guitar pick hanging around his neck.

He nudged himself into you, warm, wet, and so inviting. He moaned as he bottomed out, slowly withdrawing. His eyes remained steady on you, wanting to gauge your reaction.

"Fuck, Eddie. I'm good, it's good. Please just keep going."

No further confirmation was needed. He continued his movements, bordering on being torturously slow. But you were making the prettiest noises, and he'd do anything to keep hearing them.

"God, your pussy is so fuckin' tight," Eddie breathed, quickening the rhythm of his hips. "Tryna squeeze me to death?"

You watched as his necklace swayed forward and back, a beat behind his thrusts. It left your brain scrambling for words, only to come up empty.

"So good, fuck. You're so hot, holy fuck."

Eddie didn't even bother trying to suppress the smile that came to his face as a result of your praise. He could hardly believe you found him hot, let alone wanting and enjoying having sex with him.

"You should see yourself. You're the sweetest, sexiest thing I think I've ever seen. I'd do some heinous shit to be able to do this again," he paused to kiss you passionately on the lips, causing his body to shift in a way that had his dick reaching a new angle inside you. He noticed how your lips parted so scandalously, and how your eyebrows knitted, like you were unable to handle the amount of pleasure you were feeling. "Oh, there it is. Needed me there, huh?"

Eddie brought his handup to his mouth, gathering spit before letting it slip past his lips onto the pad of his thumb. He brought it down to your clit, easily finding the swollen bud and rubbing it in deliberate, hypnotizing circles. Your whines only encouraged him, loving how your eyes squeezed shut as you told him you were getting close.

"Fuck," you opened your eyes to see Eddie, staring down at where your bodies connected, focused intently on giving your clit the stimulation it craved. "I'm gonna cum if you keep, doing that."

"Yeah? Do it for me, baby. I want you to feel so good. Want you to soak me like a good girl, c'mon." His coaxings had you unraveling even sooner than you'd anticipated.

"Please, fuck, please! You're close, right?"

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hair starting to get slightly damp with sweat. The noises he made were so sweet and honey-drenched. It was so attractive to know you were making him feel that way, and you were still in disbelief that he was doing things to you that made you feel the same after fantasizing about it for so long.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned as he felt you tighten around him even more, climaxing as the sound of your moans mingled with his. "That's it."

He couldn't help but kiss you again, hoping to ease your whimpers as your body became oversensitive to the sensations.

I want your things in my–

Eddie laid on your bed, but not before taking off his boots. He clasped his hands, resting them on his ribcage as he stared at the plain white ceiling. He should've done more. He should've run up to Vecna and started swinging at him. Instead, he stood with everyone else, frozen in horror and disbelief. He knew you wouldn't want him to blame himself, but how could he not? He was your boyfriend, he was supposed to protect you. He made a promise to do just that, and the one time you actually needed him to, he didn't. How was he supposed to carry on, knowing he'd failed you when it mattered the most?

He tried to take his therapist's advice, to not judge his emotions, to show himself compassion when his thoughts turned gloomy. You were watching over him now, weren't you?

With a deep sigh, Eddie couldn't help but imagine you sitting at your vanity, getting ready for one of those semi-formal dances that you'd somehow convinced him to accompany you to, as friends of course. There was only one that you had gone to as a couple, but Eddie didn't need any convincing to attend that one. He still kept his flask inside his jacket pocket, but he genuinely enjoyed himself. It didn't hurt that you were absolutely glowing in the twinkling lights strung around the Hawkins High gymnasium.

Your phantom silhouette dissolved as he started to conjure up memories of the two of you cuddling in bed on those rainy days where you felt like doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect conditions for a joint, but you were always scared your parents would smell the weed. But you still took the risk, even without much effort to persuade on Eddie's part. You'd banish him to the other side of your room, allowing the rain to soak in between the now exposed window frame before lighting an incense stick. The air held the fragrance, the smoke lingering just above the tops of your bedframe posts, creating a haze similar to the fog hovering above the wet concrete on the sidewalk. The mix of your perfume, the incense, and the herb created a surprisingly harmonious aroma, one that was just as intoxicating as the smoke Eddie inhaled.

He the way you played with his hair, making little braids throughout his waves. He'd asked you to do it for a Corroded Coffin gig, and the crowd was electric that night. He liked to think it was because of your magic touch, the pampering giving him that extra boost of confidence. He longed for your touch, the featherlight caresses that lived under his skin long after your fingers had left. He could almost feel it now, chills creeping up his arms. Your lips were so soft, even when they were chapped from your nervous habit of biting the gentle skin. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, pick you up, and spin you around like he did every time he picked you up from work.

Eddie missed you—beautiful, kindhearted, smart, funny, wonderful you. And all he could do was sit in your room and pretend you were just in the kitchen making tea, a minute away from coming back and joining him in bed.

[cheesybadgers]

I've been sitting with 8x16 these past few days and thinking about seasons 7/8 as a whole and how misdirection/fake-outs, red herrings and bait-and-switch have been recurring themes.

There was the whole of Buck, Bothered and Bewildered where Buck spent the episode desperately trying to get Eddie’s attention only to end up kissing Tommy but really, it was about Eddie the whole time. There was Kim, who appeared to Eddie to be a Shannon doppelgänger but obviously, she was wasn’t actually Shannon. There was the whole Hotshots storyline with the 119, AKA a fictional version of the 118 and a show within a show and Brad pretending to be a real firefighter. There was Eddie saying “I’m straight”, which appears to be leading (eventually anyway, if Tim Minear stops fucking around and causing havoc for 5 minutes) towards him realising that’s not in fact true. There was Buck posing as Freddie Fakeman in order to sublet Eddie’s house. There was Buck denying even the possibility he’s in love with Eddie, when everything else suggests he is in love with him. There was the policewoman who kidnapped Maddie and was a serial killer whilst also giving the appearance of investigating the murders when she was actually trying to set up someone else to take the blame for her crimes. There was Eddie lying to Chris and his parents about still being a firefighter when he was actually an Uber driver. Then there was the Bobby of it all, of course…

I've seen a lot of people say how pointless/overly prominent the plot with the mother and baby was in 8x16 if its only purpose was for Athena to come to terms with her grief and to face up to organising Bobby’s funeral. Which is why I feel like its purpose was more than that and the ‘mother thinks dead child is actually still alive but isn’t’ vs ‘everyone thinks Bobby’s dead but he’s actually alive’ theory is possibly correct. Because Athena wasn't in denial about Bobby's death per se; yes, she was dragging her heels on the funeral arrangements because a funeral would make his death feel more real, but she wasn't going around trying to convince anyone he wasn't actually dead like the mother of the baby was. It wasn't introduced into the narrative at all that she ever doubted he was dead; she was just having difficulty processing her grief and coming to terms with him leaving her to deal with it alone.

So, I think either that whole mother and baby storyline was for the benefit of in denial viewers (which would be extremely fucking cruel and callous when it was the show that actively encouraged people to believe and theorise there was a possible fake-out death in the first place, but admittedly, not out of the question where Tim Minear's pettiness is concerned), or it was foreshadowing and is eventually going to serve as a mirror to Bobby's casket being empty but unlike the baby, he's still alive somewhere in a government science lab (especially in light of Chimney having to chase them to release Bobby's body after two weeks of nothing). That was where I assumed the storyline was going throughout the episode, BUT...I did also think it would be awful pacing to introduce all of that in the same episode in which Bobby is also revealed to still be alive. Like, don't get me wrong, this whole charade has felt pretty damn pointless and contrived in any case, but that would be especially pointless lol.

I'm not trying to defend the writing here, because the execution has been terrible...and tbh it just proves the notion I already believed existed that ideas are not the hard part of writing. Contrary to popular belief, it's extremely easy to have ideas for what you want to do with a story (I constantly have a tonne of them roaming round my brain for my own WIPs), but it's how you convey and connect those ideas in a coherent narrative that's the hard part.

Of course, I could be completely wrong and all the theorising in the world can't necessarily save us from poor writing decisions and we may just have to come to terms with that by the end of season 8, but if you take the bigger picture into account, plus the whole Wrath of Khan parallel and everything that has been going on behind the scenes and in interviews etc., I don't personally see why you would discount the possibility of a fake-out death just because you've been told Bobby is dead, given the show has gone out of its way to misdirect the audience and/or characters in multiple plots across the last two seasons to the point where it's starting to feel a bit one-note that's it's the main storytelling device the writers keep falling back on.

This is obviously not meant with any disrespect to Ravi, but Eddie - an actual army veteran - going against direct orders from a US army Colonel to save his team, given a lot of his PTSD stems from not being able to save his team in Afghanistan, would have absolutely SLAPPED.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[tyrianluda]

Titus Hardie would be fine with your gender identity but specifically in this way.