#best music therapy course

[pratanumindpowerdevelopment]

Role of Music Therapy for Physically and

Music therapy is a professional and evidence-based health care discipline that uses the transformative power of music to address the physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs of individuals of all ages. It involves the use of music and musical activities by a qualified music therapist to achieve therapeutic goals and promote overall well-being.

Key Elements of Music Therapy:

Clinical Practice:

Music therapy is a clinical and therapeutic practice conducted by certified and trained music therapists. These professionals have a strong foundation in music and are equipped with the knowledge of psychological, physiological, and therapeutic principles.

Individualized Approach:

Music therapists tailor interventions to meet the unique needs of each client. The individualized nature of music therapy allows for personalized strategies based on the client's goals, preferences, and therapeutic requirements.

Wide Range of Techniques:

Music therapy incorporates a diverse range of musical techniques, including listening to music, singing, playing instruments, songwriting, and improvisation. The specific techniques used depend on the therapeutic objectives and the client's preferences.

Multidimensional Impact:

Music therapy addresses a broad spectrum of human experiences. It can impact physical health by improving motor skills, aiding in rehabilitation, and promoting relaxation. Emotionally, it provides an outlet for expression and helps manage stress, anxiety, and depression. It also has cognitive benefits, such as enhancing memory, attention, and problem-solving.

Clinical Settings:

Music therapy is practiced in various clinical settings, including hospitals, rehabilitation centers, psychiatric facilities, schools, nursing homes, and community organizations. Music therapists collaborate with interdisciplinary teams to complement and enhance the overall care provided to clients.

Evidence-Based Practice:

The field of music therapy is grounded in research and evidence-based practices. Ongoing studies contribute to the growing body of evidence supporting the effectiveness of music therapy across a range of conditions and populations.

Goals of Music Therapy:

Emotional Expression:

Provide a safe and supportive environment for individuals to express and process emotions through music.

Physical Rehabilitation:

Enhance motor skills, coordination, and physical functioning through rhythmic and movement-based interventions.

Cognitive Stimulation:

Improve cognitive abilities, including memory, attention, and problem-solving, through engaging musical activities.

Communication and Social Skills:

Foster communication and social interactions by encouraging verbal and non-verbal expression within a musical context.

Stress Reduction:

Utilize music as a tool for relaxation and stress reduction, promoting overall mental well-being.

Quality of Life Enhancement:

Improve the overall quality of life by addressing holistic aspects of health, including emotional, physical, and social dimensions.

Benefits of Music Therapy:

Emotional Expression:

Music provides an outlet for emotional expression, allowing individuals to convey feelings that may be challenging to express verbally. Cognitive Stimulation:

Engaging with music can stimulate cognitive functions, aiding in memory recall, attention, and problem-solving. Physical Rehabilitation:

Rhythmic elements in music can be incorporated into physical rehabilitation programs to improve coordination and motor skills. Stress Reduction:

Music has the potential to reduce stress and anxiety levels, promoting relaxation and overall well-being. Enhanced Communication:

For non-verbal individuals or those with communication challenges, music can serve as a powerful means of communication. Music Therapy in Different Countries:

Music Therapy in the USA: Organizations: The American Music Therapy Association (AMTA) oversees music therapy practices in the USA. Settings: Music therapists work in hospitals, schools, rehabilitation centers, and mental health facilities. Training: Board-certified music therapists undergo rigorous training to ensure competence.

Music Therapy in the UK: Organizations: The British Association for Music Therapy (BAMT) is the professional body overseeing music therapy in the UK. Settings: Music therapists work in healthcare, education, and community settings. Training: Music therapists typically hold a master's degree and are registered with the Health and Care Professions Council (HCPC).

Music Therapy in Canada: Organizations: The Canadian Association for Music Therapy (CAMT) is the national body for music therapy in Canada. Settings: Music therapists work in healthcare, mental health, and special education settings. Training: To become a certified music therapist in Canada, individuals typically complete a bachelor's or master's degree in music therapy.

Music Therapy in Australia: Organizations: The Australian Music Therapy Association (AMTA) oversees music therapy practices in Australia. Settings: Music therapists work in hospitals, aged care facilities, schools, and mental health settings. Training: Music therapists in Australia usually complete a bachelor's or master's degree in music therapy. Cities in the USA, UK, Canada, and Australia: USA: New York City Los Angeles Chicago Houston San Francisco Washington, D.C. Boston Atlanta Miami Seattle UK: London Manchester Birmingham Glasgow Liverpool Bristol Edinburgh Leeds Newcastle Cardiff Canada: Toronto Vancouver Montreal Calgary Ottawa Edmonton Winnipeg Quebec City Halifax Victoria Australia: Sydney Melbourne Brisbane Perth Adelaide Canberra Gold Coast Newcastle Hobart Darwin Different Types of Mental Diseases: Depression:

Characterized by persistent sadness, lack of interest or pleasure in activities. Anxiety Disorders:

Conditions such as generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and social anxiety disorder. Schizophrenia:

A severe mental disorder characterized by distorted thinking, hallucinations, and delusions. Bipolar Disorder:

Involves mood swings, alternating between depressive and manic episodes. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD):

Involves recurring, unwanted thoughts (obsessions) and repetitive behaviors or mental acts (compulsions). Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD):

Develops after experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. Eating Disorders:

Conditions such as anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, and binge-eating disorder. Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD):

A neurodevelopmental disorder characterized by inattention, hyperactivity, and impulsivity. Role of Music for Body and Mind:

Emotional Regulation:

Music can evoke and regulate emotions, promoting emotional well-being and stability. Stress Reduction:

Listening to calming music or engaging in music-making activities can reduce stress levels. Cognitive Benefits:

Music has cognitive benefits, including improved memory, attention, and problem-solving skills. Physical Rehabilitation:

Rhythmic auditory stimulation in music can aid in physical rehabilitation and motor skills development. Social Connection:

Music brings people together, fostering social connections and a sense of community. Mood Enhancement:

Upbeat and joyful music can enhance mood and provide a sense of positivity. Expressive Outlet:

Playing or creating music allows individuals to express themselves creatively and artistically. Therapeutic Tool:

Music is used as a therapeutic tool in various clinical settings to address mental health challenges. Music therapy harnesses the therapeutic properties of music to address physical, emotional, and cognitive needs, making it a valuable intervention for individuals facing mental and physical challenges.

**About Pratanu Banerjee - Pratanu Banerjee is a teacher of keyboard, harmonica, flute, Spanish guitar, music therapy, reiki, money reiki, angel reiki, kundalini reiki, angel reiki, reiki grandmaster, holy fire reiki, unicorn reiki, emotional empowerment technique, self hypnosis, french, English, anthropology, hospital administration etc. These are certificate courses by Pratanu Banerjee at Institute of performing art and mind power development affiliated under world art organization. Cal 91–8017517171 **

[cogniabletech]

CogniAble: The Best Autism Centre in Gurgaon

Introduction:

In the middle of the North Indian cities is the rapidly developing city of Gurgaon, where development never stops, as well as for some families whose children struggle with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) during childhood. CogniAble is widely recognized as the most reliable and top healthcare institution for children. It is very well-known for going the extra mile if needed, with a complete commitment toward reliable dedication, worldwide innovation, and constant championing of strategic treatments to help children with autism and their loving families. Mr. Manu and Mrs. Swati are the founders of CogniAble, a husband-wife team who themselves went through a phase of searching for quality treatment for their autistic child in their lives. They launched CogniAble as a leading provider of autism treatment therapy in Gurgaon and North India.

A Brief History of How CogniAble Was Born:

The process of establishing CogniAble in Gurgaon began with a close personal encounter when the founder’s own child was diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder during the early days of childhood. When the couple realized that there were only a few options available for effective quality treatment in India, they started the search for better solutions to get closer to the cure for their child, travelling throughout the continents and reaching the USA. There were enormous numbers of ups and downs, obstacles, and roadblocks, and in the end, they all landed on the same truth: the availability of autism treatment services in India is not up to par. By firmly deciding to widen access to international standards of care for autistic kids in their own country and based on their personal experience and knowledge, Mr. Manu and Mrs. Swati founded CogniAble, an independent excellence center for autism treatment in Gurgaon, with a mission to offer the best support to autistic kids and their parents.

The Best ABA Therapy in Gurgaon at CogniAble:

During the process of autism treatment at CogniAble, we intensively employ Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy as a basic tool of the comprehensive treatment approach. ABA therapy is a scientifically proven expert intervention technique that concentrates on improving positive behaviours and suppressing unpleasant ones through the use of a systematic approach to learning. Our team of certified behavior analysts utilizes ABA-based (Applied Behavior Analysis) practices to plan and prepare treatments that are specifically customised to perfectly fit the individual needs of the child, so that they can have the best of their lives without any compromise.

The Finest Speech and Language Therapy in Gurgaon at CogniAble:

Besides ABA therapy, CogniAble is also known to provide speech and language therapy for autistic children in Gurgaon, with a specific focus on improving autism conditions and diminishing their symptoms. The main goal of speech and language therapy is to significantly improve communication skills as well as meaningful sentence articulation, increase language comprehension, and develop social interaction skills to actively participate in society. The children in Gurgaon will always receive individual therapy sessions parallel to the evidence-based techniques practiced worldwide, thereby helping them to overcome their speech delays and improvise on effective communication strategies for better and clearer communication.

The Exceptional Vocational Training Centre for Children with Autism in CogniAble:

CogniAble has set the tangible footprint of vocational training for children challenged with autism in Gurgaon by realizing the necessity of inculcating independence and life-living skills in these special children. Our center offers many customized programs which are aimed at expanding the horizons of functional skills, increasing independence, and preparing children for meaningful employment in the future. By offering vocational evaluations, job coaching, and workplace ethics classes offered at CogniAble enable these special children in Gurgaon to develop all necessary learned skills to enjoy an independent life and have the best outcomes in future life.

Some Major Benefits of Choosing CogniAble for Your Child’s Autism Treatment:

With the decision to choose the CogniAble center for your child’s autism treatment in north India, you are selecting a reliable ally who will be an active partner on your child’s way to recovery and development on the path of life. Our strategic approach to the best autism therapy in Gurgaon blends not only evidence-based interventions which are being practiced daily worldwide but also individualized care, the feeling of compassion, as well as the incredible strength in offering support for both the special children and their respected families. At CogniAble we are aware of the huge emotional trauma that families experience, including moments of doubt, tough challenges to overcome and some despairing moments seeing the children’s struggle for normal behaviour. That’s why we empathically and compassionately dedicate ourselves to creating the most friendly and warm learning space in which every child is prestigiously treasured as priceless ornaments of the beauty of life and helps them attain their best version of themselves with effective treatment. CogniAble treatment foundations are built on the competence of our certified trained staff, internationally qualified medical professionals and cutting-edge treatment facilities, hence, it is a known fact that safeguarding the best interests of your child’s welfare and success comes first at CogniAble.

Conclusion: With CogniAble, the best treatment for Autism is Possible

In Summary, for all the families affected by the medical condition of autism spectrum disorder in Gurgaon and all across India, CogniAble provides an excellent opportunity for optimism and positive transformation during these tough times. CogniAble has been founded by concerned citizens who have experienced similar predicaments. CogniAble offers a unique combination of effective treatment competence, an empathetic and compassionate approach to treatment, and a firm commitment to providing the best autism treatment in India. We make it possible for children with autism to achieve their highest potential and prosper in all facets of life by providing them with cutting-edge therapies, individualized care, attention to detail for symptoms and their treatment and unwavering support to improve the autistic child’s quality of life. So, if your child is facing the struggle to eliminate the most obvious symptoms and make the autistic child’s life better by living a normal, joyful, and active social life, the best autistic treatment center, CogniAble, can make it happen.

[paradiseprincesss]

the boy is mine | jonathan crane

masterlist

yeah so i wrote this in literally record timing because the music video to the boy is mine is so jonathan crane and his girl coded. i'd like to think i'm keeping u guys fed with all my fics i hope u like !!!

summary: you’re set on doing anything to make that boy yours, and the plan you curated is absolutely purrrfect.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), bondage/tying up, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, stalking, obsessive behaviour, therapist/patient relationship at one point lol

“perfect.” you whisper to yourself as you poured the last drop of the glittery, pink liquid into the small vile, swirling it around as you popped a cork into the top.

you smiled proudly as you sat on the kitchen floor of your apartment, holding up the vile to get a good look at it under the moonlight. it was fool proof — he’d for sure be yours after you forced him to drink this.

some would say you were a little unhinged, but you preferred the term creative. you were a little obsessed with your old therapist, doctor jonathan crane. you started seeing him when you stumbled across his pictures online, and you knew you had to have him. you booked your first session with him roughly nine months ago, and he was there for you every step of the way.

you didn’t actually need therapy (well…), but you still booked sessions with him because he was yours. it was meant to be. you couldn't unsee it. during your first ever session with him, you made sure to put on your cutest, most feminine and dainty mini dress, paired with some matching high heels. you even did your hair and makeup with precision. jonathan didn’t show it on his face, but when you sat there in that leather chair across from him for the first time, his heart started to beat a million miles a minute.

you were jaw-dropping. he couldn’t believe someone could actually possess such beauty, and though he tried to stay professional, it was proving to be quite difficult. every time you spoke, every time you smiled at him, every time you did absolutely anything — he would become more and more infatuated with you.

“i just wish he didn’t leave me, you know?” you say softly, feigning innocence, “it’s been so hard without a man to take care of me.”

jonathan clenched his jaw silently, he couldn’t believe that a man would be stupid enough to break-up with someone like you. be professional, he reminded himself.

“understandably so,” he said clinically, “i can only imagine how difficult it would be to have a relationship like that end so abruptly.”

“it was so difficult,” you say, your eyes watering, “but, i think i’m slowly starting to move on.”

of course, such "ex-boyfriend" did not exist. this was all part of your elaborate act to make him think you were an innocent, naive girl who was heartbroken and needed someone to save her. that someone being him, of course.

he was made for somebody like you.

you only had seven sessions between the two of you before jonathan abruptly reassigned you to his colleague, doctor webber. she wasn’t anything like doctor crane — she didn’t understand you the way that he did.

good things come to those who wait, but patience wasn’t your thing.

“i’m sorry,” jonathan doctor crane said to you, “as much as i want to continue to be there for you and your journey of growth, i believe that my colleague would be better suited to your…needs.”

“what are you talking about, doctor crane?” you asked, trying to to hide the desperation in your voice.

“i have another patient i must attend to,” he says flatly, informing you that your session had come to an end, “but i wish you all the best.”

and with that, he sent you to see doctor webber. of course, you were heartbroken. how could your soulmate do that to you? but jonathan wasn’t doing it because he didn’t want to see you — it was quite the opposite, actually. he knew that feeling this way about his patient was so very wrong, and if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

really, he did this for you.

as you placed your little love concoction on the kitchen counter, you turned on your tv. jonathan was supposed to be doing a segment with the mayor of gotham tonight about the crime rates in the city, and what him and his team at arkham asylum were doing to solve the issue. as his face appeared on tv, you sighed to yourself. he was so handsome in his suit and tie — and those sexy little glasses?

meow.

the chilly gust of wind made you shiver for a moment, but your latex bodysuit kept you warm enough — well, not really. with your little cat ear headband, you toss your hair over your shoulders as you quietly make your way into the silent home. your black pumps were surprisingly silent against the wood floors, and you crept into the living room where a woman sat on the couch watching tv.

you went undetected as she completely missed your presence. stealthily, you creep behind her until suddenly, you yanked her by her hair. she screamed loudly, and your hand immediately went up to her mouth to clasp down on it; you were getting really good at this.

“don’t scream,” you whisper, “i just came here to tell you to stay away from my man.”

slowly, you remove your hand and she looks back at you with sheer terror, “wh-who’s your man?” she asked with fear laced in her voice.

you hated this bitch — she was one of jonathans patients. there was nothing going on between them, you knew that (plus you would’ve murdered her if there was!), but you had spent the last few weeks…"cleaning up the streets."

these ratty bitches had to go; any woman who was his patient or in his life at all had to go. you even dressed the part with your sexy little cat costume and all. you know what they say — in the eternal game of cat and mouse, there are no winners, only survivors.

“doctor jonathan crane,” you said dreamily, but your tone turned sinister within seconds, “and if you ever go see him again, i will find you, trust me. i've already found you once, and you don't want me to come prowling back around.”

the woman nodded frantically, and you went on your merry way. this was the last one, you were certain. you’d even made a list of all the women to threaten so that you could make sure they would stay away from your man. finally, you made your way home and started to wind down from all the break-ins you’d been making recently. it was hard work chasing down all these…mice.

jonathan noticed that his belongings were going missing here and there over the last few months, and he knew something strange was going on. he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but something was off.

first, little things such as his favourite pen (yes, he has a favourite pen) went missing. then, a few patient files would seemingly disappear along with some sticky notes he had stuck on his desk the day prior. he didn’t think too much of it until one of his credit cards went missing from his wallet — but there weren't any fraudulent charges made.

he even continued to monitor his bank account and freeze his card, but no charges were ever made on it regardless. the last straw was when his spare house key went missing. even for a man as smart as jonathan, he could not figure out who was doing this for the life of him.

you were still attending your regular sessions with doctor webber, but you deliberately booked your appointments on days you knew jonathan was working. you knew you’d run into him either on your way in or way out, and you also knew he wasn’t that booked up anymore since most of his clientele went…missing.

as you said your farewell to doctor webber, you noticed jonathan walking out of his office. he noticed you immediately, giving you a soft smile as you turned to close the door to doctor webbers office. he said your name softly, causing you to almost choke on your own words as you clutched his house keys behind your back.

“doctor crane,” you say softly, “hey.”

“just jonathan is fine,” he said, but he internally scolded himself for saying that, “how have you been?”

“great,” you say sweetly, “doctor webber is…great.”

“that’s wonderful to hear,” he says, “it was nice seeing you again. take care.”

you two parted ways, and once jonathan was back at his apartment — he was to refrain himself from calling you. god, you looked so good today. with those little dresses of yours and good grief, those sexy, little heels you always paired them with. he grabbed himself a glass of whiskey, neat, and took a swig as he thought about you.

why did you have to be on his mind so much, and dear god, why did you have to be so fucking beautiful?

with a frustrated sigh, he looked at his front door, thinking about his keys that suddenly went missing just a week prior. was he overthinking things? was he just imagining it? did he lose his own keys and forget?

he was a psychiatrist for gods sake, why was he driving himself crazy over this? with so many questions and no answers, he made his way to his bathroom as he flicked his kitchen lights off.

the cold water ran from the bathroom sink as he splashed it on his face after removing his glasses, and he looked at himself in the mirror to get a grip. his pale, icy, blue eyes bore into his own reflection, and-

what was that?

he turned around swiftly, turning the tap off, watching as something, no — someone’s perfectly manicured hand ghosted over the edge of his bathroom doorframe.

he couldn’t see anything — the kitchen light was turned off, and the only thing turned on was his dim bathroom light. the master of fear himself felt a little fearful in this moment as he watched the dainty, feminine hand retract and move back into the shadows and he could've sworn he saw...cat ears?

jonathan had to blink a few times to make sure that he hadn’t spilled a vile of his own fear toxin somewhere and that he wasn’t just hallucinating off of it.

hesitantly, he pushed open his bathroom door only to be met with the darkness of his kitchen. his breath hitched as he flicked on the kitchen lights, but he was met with an empty, quiet space. his eyes quickly darted to the front door, but it was locked shut.

but if the door was locked shut, what did he just see? who did he just see? was the scarecrow himself starting to succumb to silly, little, irrational fears? before his mind could start to wander anymore, he heard a familiar sound.

a certain, distinct, and awfully familiar sound of high heels clicking against the wood flooring — and it was coming right from his bedroom. jonathan went over to his bedroom, swinging the door open unsure of what he might see, only to be met with a sight that made him feel weak in the knees.

you were propped up on his bed, in a latex body suit and high heels, along with cat ears to complete your rather sexy costume. you batted your eyelashes at him innocently, and bit your lip as you showed him the rope in your hands.

“how did you…” he whispered, watching you bite your lip as he trailed off.

“doctor,” you purred, “let’s get intertwined.”

“what the fuck…” he whispered once more, watching you as if in a mesmerized trance.

jonathan couldn’t lie — as much as he should have been terrified and calling the cops, he was awfully turned on right now. jesus christ, that latex cat costume that left absolutely nothing to the imagination? yeah, he was hard the moment he saw you.

“i know it’s simply meant to be.” you say softly, and as if his mind could not control his body, he was making his way over to you on his bed.

“um, what-“

“shh,” you hush him, suddenly grabbing him as you swiftly tie a knot around his wrists, “you don’t need to speak, baby boy.”

in mere seconds you had the scarecrow tied up on his own bed, restrained as you looked down at him. jonathan sat there looking up at you — yes, you were hot but you were clearly also insane.

to be fair, so was he.

he didn't bother trying to get himself out of the ropes. he knew that if he tried to struggle you'd most definitely do something not so pleasant to him. also, if he was being honest — this was hot. like, really hot.

"i just need you to do me a favour, baby boy," you giggle, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring once more, "drink this for me, and know that if you refuse, you won't live to see another day."

you held up a vile of pink, shimmery liquid. jonathan looked at you with a raised brow, and hesitantly nodded.

"...i'll drink it if you answer some questions that i have." he says, trying to bargain with you.

"fine," you shrug, "but make it quick."

"alright, first of all, how did you get in here?" he asked.

"easy, i crawled in through your window. next." you say in an awfully innocent voice.

"are you the one that's been taking my stuff?" he asks, and you nod.

"of course, i needed your stuff for my collection." you say whimsically, biting your lip at the thought of your homemade jonathan crane shrine.

in your apartment, you had a wall dedicated to him. it had cut outs of him, printed pictures, his belongings, his address, photos of him when he was younger — the list just goes on. all just regular, boring, stalker stuff, really.

"no more questions," you huff, "drink up, baby boy."

"what is it?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

"an at-home love potion. i'm going to untie you for this — and if you even attempt to run, i will slice your heart in two." you say with an adorable smile.

jonathan doesn't offer a response, but rather opts out for a simple nod. you slowly untie his wrists, handing him the pink, glittery liquid in the vile. you watch him in awe as he closes his eyes and takes it like a shot, smiling to yourself as you realize that he's finally going to be all yours.

this little concoction that you had whipped up was the real deal — you'd even tested it on other men to see if it did what it was intended to do. it worked on them, bringing these men to their knees for you, but it's not like you really had any trouble doing that without a love potion, anyway.

after jonathan drinks it all, he looks back at you blankly. unbeknownst to you, when you were popping the cork off of the potion, he sneakily grabbed a vile of his fear toxin that was stashed by the foot of his bed — just in case you tried to actually murder him.

his plan was to immediately throw the vile at you and watch you succumb to your fears, but if he was being honest, he wanted to see what this shitty little "love potion" could do. he was a man of science, after all.

"i don't feel anything," he said after a moment, "looks like your potion didn't work after all-"

you cut him off with a small giggle, "you don't feel any different?"

"no."

"i've tested it, i know it works," you giggled, "that means if you don't feel any different from before, then you must already love me-"

suddenly, he lunged at you, making you scramble as you tried to fight back. however, he was much stronger than you, making it physically impossible to overpower him. after struggling for a good minute, he had you tied down on the bed like you had him just moments before.

"you're sick in the head," he says, but you could've sworn you saw him smirking, "you're real fucking twisted, you know that? i could call the cops and have you arrested right now."

"do it," you teased, "i dare you to, baby boy."

jonathan suddenly grabbed you by the neck, "what was that?"

you had you refrain from smiling as he choked you softly, feeling yourself get wet from just a second of his touch. you knew exactly what he wanted now.

"sorry," you corrected, "i dare you, sir."

"there we go." he says as he lets go of your throat.

he rummages through his bedside drawer and pulls out some of his own rope, causing your mind to spin at the idea of what he was going to do to you. you didn't run when he untied your wrists initially, but he took a few moments to tie both your wrists up to his bedposts, essentially tying you up so you couldn't move your hands at all.

"oh," you say with a teasing voice, "i see where this is going."

he smirks at you, admiring how sexy you look all tied up in his bed, with your costume and all. he takes his phone out and shamelessly takes a picture with the flash on, and you could feel that you were leaking your arousal down his bedsheets by now.

it seemed that your love potion didn't work on him because, well, he was already obsessed with you.

of course he was — but jonathan was known for his good work ethic. he only gave you up as a patient because it was only a matter of time before he would give in and most likely fuck you on the couch in his office. he just didn't know it was mutual at the time. if he did, well — that's a story for another day.

"maybe i should punish you," he smirks, making his way over to you on the bed, "you've been so disobedient."

"m'sorry, sir," you whimper, "you just make me crazy."

"i know," he cooed condescendingly, "but i think i can fix that, darling."

"you can?"

"i most definitely can," he says lowly, "it might take a few sessions to cure you, but i have a method i think might work on you. i'm gonna fuck you 'till you can't think anymore, no more thoughts after that. sound good?"

you nodded frantically, "mhm, yes. please, fuck yes."

he smirked at you, his hands reaching towards the top of your bodysuit. slowly, he reached his hands behind and unzipped it, slipping it off of you slowly.

"i like the cat costume," he chuckles lowly, "the ears are a cute touch."

you blushed, biting your lip as he slipped you right out of your latex bodysuit. obviously, you wore nothing underneath — not even panties. jonathan groaned at the sight because seriously, no panties? with your wrists tied up and unable to touch him, you were getting pent up real fast.

"i wanna touch you," you whined, "please."

he smirked, "if only you didn't break into my apartment like a stray."

before you could even formulate a proper response, he was crawling between your legs, spreading them out as he got onto his stomach. without warning, he licked a fat stripe up your already soaking cunt, latching his mouth onto your pussy. your back arched at the feeling, and he continued to lap you up.

"f-fuck, jon," you breathed, "feels s-so good."

"i know." he said cooly against your core, lapping up your arousal continuously as you moaned over and over again.

it was sinful how skilled he was with his tongue — it hadn't even been a full five minutes and you were already on the brink of creaming all over his face. he didn't give you any mercy as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, and your wrists were burning against the rope as you tugged on them.

god, the things you would do to run your hands through his soft, dark, and now tousled hair.

"nnnghh," you whimper, "i'm, ah- gon' cum!"

the coil in your stomach snapped as your release hit you like a freight train, making you scream his name as he made you cum. you were left a panting mess, and he finally released the grip he had on your thighs. after wiping his pink, plump lips along with his chin which glistened with your wetness, he smiled softly at you.

"taste s'good," he commented, "you look so pretty like this, darling. tied up and helpless."

"n-need you," you whisper, "baby, please."

this time, he didn't correct you and demand you call him "sir." maybe it was the heat of the moment or maybe it was the realization that he had finally met a woman who was as unhinged as he was. deep down, he was really loving the idea.

he started to undo his belt, making sure to keep his eyes locked on yours, teasing you as he undid his belt at a painfully slow pace. finally, after what felt like an eternity (it maybe thirty seconds at most), his cock sprung out of his pants, hitting his stomach lightly. it was long, veiny, and thick. how was that supposed to fit inside of you? surely it would split you open.

"cat got your tongue?" he teased as he unbuttoned his white button-down, stroking his cock a few times as your hips bucked into nothing.

"uh-huh." you whispered in awe, biting your lip at the thought of how his size was going to stretch you beyond your limits.

with a low chuckle, he lined his thick cock up with your begging hole, pushing in slowly as you felt him stretch your cunt out fully. he was so big and so long, the feeling of him just halfway inside of you was enough to have you pulling against the ropes again. the way the rope was digging into your wrists was degrading but undeniably hot. it was like a silent reminder of how little control you actually had over this whole situation.

"s-so full!" you squeaked, but he kept pushing himself into your tight, warm hole.

"s'okay, you can take it. and if you can't, i'll make you take it." he groaned, finally bottoming out in you.

you were stuffed to the brim with his cock and slowly, he started to thrust his length in and out of you. desperately, you let out a feverish moan. your breaths were short but heavy, and you were a fucked out, cockdrunk mess for him as he picked up his pace.

"you're so fucking tight, my god," he moaned, "i should've fucked you sooner."

"make me cum," you plead desperately, "f-fuck, yes, feels so good, jonathan!"

"yeah? you wanna cum?" he cooed as he continued to fuck your sopping pussy, "you wanna cum on this cock?"

"fuck, yes." you pleaded.

his cock was pressed snugly up against your cervix, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. he continued to stretch your little hole out, ruthlessly pounding his thick cock into you more and more as you started to see stars. your walls started to flutter around him, letting him know that you were close without having to say a word.

"close already, darling?" he asked, "are you gonna cum for me again, hm?"

"y-yes!" you moaned, "ohmygod- i'm gonna-"

your words started to melt together at one point as you got lost in the pleasure of your high. soon enough, your soaking cunt was tightening up around his fat cock, and a clear liquid poured out from you.

of course — you were so turned on by the way he was screwing you that you'd squirted all over his bedsheets.

"oh, darling," he moaned, "that was so fucking sexy, jesus."

"j-jonathan, baby," you begged, "i-i can't-"

"you can, i promise," he groaned, "i'm close."

"p-please." you started to beg incoherently, the overstimulation making your head spin as your cunt fluttered around his cock again.

he continued to ram your tight pussy until his thrusts started to become sloppier and sloppier, and you could tell that he was close to the edge.

"cum i-inside," you begged him, "i need to be filled, fuck-"

"okay, okay," he panted as his he gave you a few more deep, harsh thrusts, 'm'gonna fill you up, darling."

you nodded, your head spinning as he finally came inside with a low groan, painting your walls white as he stuffed you with his warm seed. he stilled, staying inside of your warm hole for just a little longer to ensure you got every last bit of his cum, before pulling out his semi-hard cock.

he bit his lip as he watched his cum drip out of you (the sight of him biting his lip almost made you cum again), and he reached over to untie your wrists as you slumped down against the pillows. he laughed softly, pulling you into him as you instinctively cuddled into his arms.

he pulled the cat ear headband off your head, which you forgot you still had on, and tossed them to the side.

"i guess i'm going to have a hard time getting rid of you, huh? stalker." he joked, sighing as he took in all the details of your pretty face.

"you won't be able to get rid of me," you say softly, "i'm obsessed with you."

"good, i don't want you around anyone but me." he says, playing with your hair gently.

"i know," you giggle, "but stupid love potion was useless. i should've known you were already in love with me."

the both of you laughed softly, snuggled up in his bed as he told you all about what he did on the side for work — and all about his plans to fear gas gotham city.

jonathan trusted you with this because he knew there wasn't a line in existence that you wouldn't cross for him.

@ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a @xanaxiii

@seaamonster @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem

@futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @aprilsfrog05 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[paraphwrites]

i think it's interesting that edwin attracts lonely people.

-the cat king has seemingly never had a real substantial relationship. he lives his lives playing tricks and games, not actual connections

-monty literally only ever spoken to one (1) other person, and that's his fucked up mother familiar mommy situationship that he needs, like, so much therapy to unpack

-simon, maybe the only other gay kid in this boarding school, completely isolated from his peers by virtue of his identity and society and shame

-niko, who has been hiding in her room, avoiding other people for months out of grief and something larger (the inherent unavoidable devastation of growing up alone)

-and, of course, charles. charles, who died alone. charles, one of the only non white kids at that boarding school. charles, who's dad didn't love him and who's mom didn't say anything. charles, who flirts with every girl he meets. charles, who would follow him to the end of the earth but won't ever talk about his feelings because he's brills, mate, aces. charles, who spent his entire life alone and now won't spend a minute of his afterlife alone

i dunno. i think it's interesting. edwin, who we know is lonely, attracts other lonely people.

and, not to overstep my bounds as a silly little person on tumblr, but i think it's interesting that the show has attracted a lot of lonely people, too. and i think there's a lot of reasons for that. the target demographic is teenagers & young adults, a notoriously lonely group. the show features a lot of minority characters, which will attract minority audience members, and often people who are a part of a minority feel lonely and different from the people around them. the show is about friendship and found family, and i think that attracts a lot of lonely people. shit, i'm lonely, and i was drawn to this show. yes, for the incredible music and acting and cinematography, but also because the themes are so fundamentally resonant and raw.

and THAT is why dead boy detectives is an important show. because it is a show for the lonely and the grieving and the lost. AND it is a show for the hopeful and the learning and the coping. it is a show for people who have their shit together, and people with no shit together, and people who don't even know their shit is spilt all over the floor. this show MATTERS because it speaks to the fundamental devastation in human existence AND it finds the beauty to celebrate. it says, yes, loss is horrible and life altering, and you will be okay. yes this will be awful but you will carry on. and that is SO important. do you understand how important that is?? because everyone, everyone goes through loss and change and hardships. everyone. it is a show for lonely people! and we're all fucking lonely, aren't we? isn't part of the human condition just being lonely??

dead boy detectives is a show for people wronged by men. it is a show for people coated in grief. for people who are dealing with their sexuality late in life. for people with fucked up parental relationships. for people who date as a distraction. for people who are doing great and just like a silly little ghost show! for people not doing great but trying their best anyway. most of all, it is a show for lonely people.

just. FUCK! this show MATTERS! this show MEANS SOMETHING to SO many people!! including me!!! it matters to ME!!!! and i will continue yapping about it, even if it's just into the void!!!!!!!!!!!!

[eddiesxangel]

Show You | Virgin Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie meets you 4 years after he escapes the upside-down when he moves to your small Californian town.

Wc: 7k AN: sorry to the anons that requested Virgin!Eddie like a month ago, but here shit is!

Cw: shy/angsty/insecure!Eddie, fluff, SMUT, Virgin Eddie x experienced fem reader, size kink, blowjob, p in v, protected sex, sub!Eddie. Switch?eddie, dirty talk.

1990

Eddie’s life for his first twenty years wasn’t necessarily the best… drugs, alcohol, child neglect, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. Eddie’s dreams were haunted by the horror story of his life, which was 1986.

Four years ago, the gates of hell opened, and Eddie was dragged into them, kicking and screaming. Eventually, he got out with his weird band of misfits, but the scars left on his body by those disgusting creatures only remind him daily of the horrors he survived.

He survived. He got out and was paid a fat sum by the American government for keeping quiet. So he took the money and his Uncle and they ran. They ran far, far away from Hawkins, so far they ended up in the quaint town of Ferndale, California.

The Munson men had grown accustomed to the small-town life and did not want to give that up. They were pleasantly surprised when they moved to Ferndale. The vibrant Victorian-style homes painted in different shades of pastel colours added a pop of colour to the town's landscape. Wayne was particularly taken by the town's charm and ultimately decided he didn't want to leave.

The smell of saltwater from the nearby ocean was a refreshing change, and the Munson men enjoyed taking long walks on the beach during their free time to clear their heads of their tortured past. The picturesque scenery of Ferndale was a welcome change from the mundane routine of their old town of Hawkins.

With that money from the government, Eddie was able to buy himself and his uncle a nice four-bedroom house; they had so much room for just the two of them they didn’t know what to do with it. Eddie owed everything to his uncle, so of course, he needed to splurge.

Eddie had to undergo hours of physical therapy daily to fix every joint and muscle on the right side of his body, which made it difficult for him to perform even the simplest of tasks. It took him a couple of years to recover and walk properly again, but he remained determined to make a fresh start and leave his old life behind.

Once he was finally able to function normally, Eddie set out to find a new job that would provide him with a real opportunity to rebuild his life. He was determined to leave his past behind and start anew without any remnants of his old life hanging over him, including drug dealing. Eddie knew that it wouldn't be easy, but he remained committed to his goal. He was willing to put in the hard work necessary to succeed in his new job and build a better life for himself. For him, this was a second chance, a fresh start that he was determined to make the most of.

The door chimed and jingled as the fall air flowed into the small music store. While the locals were bundled up in layers of corduroy and jean jackets, scarves, and gloves, Eddie enjoyed the breeze that entered the shop. His faded black Metallica t-shirt was the only one in sight.

The doorbell's persistent chime was starting to wear on Eddie's nerves as the evening came to a close. It had been a long and busy day, with customer after customer coming in. With only twenty minutes left to go, he was getting ready to close up shop alone tonight. He considered flipping the sign a little early because, finally, after hours of non-stop work, the floor was empty of people.

Eddie was behind the counter, wiping down the work area and facing away from the door, when he heard those dreaded chimes. His shoulders dropped with defeat; he was a fool to think this day could be ended early.

He put on a façade of good customer service, but his expression quickly changed to genuine happiness mixed with nerves upon seeing who had walked into the small record store.

He had seen you around town, at the grocery store and sometimes at the beach. He admired you from afar, never once approaching you. No. You intimidated him but in the best way. You were like no other woman he had seen before.

Growing up in Hawkins, being secluded as the town freak, he didn’t have much exposure to female attention. Or any romantic attraction for that fact. So when you entered the store, Eddie’s palms felt sweaty, and his heart started to race; he could hear the blood pounding in his ears as his eyes locked with yours.

He swore he saw a sparkle in your eyes when you looked at him, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. He didn’t even know your name yet.

“E-evening,” he awkwardly waved as you browsed the slim aisle.

“Hi,” your face broke out into a smile and went back to your search. Your best friend Charlie’s birthday was tomorrow, and you needed to get her a gift before her party.

As you searched and searched, you were still looking for an album you thought she would like. You two were total opposites when it came to your music preferences, so you had no idea what to get her. After minutes with no success, you found yourself calling out to the only other person in the store.

“Hey, I don't mean to bother you, but I need your opinion.” You snap Eddie out of his little daydream, obviously that you were the start of that daydream.

“Sure!” He said he was a bit too excited. “How can I help you” he smiled but swung his long arms back and forth uncomfortably as he approached you.

“I’m looking for a birthday gift, and I’m a total newbie when it comes to metal. Do you think you can help me?” You bite your lip, observing the man in front of you.

He possessed an alluring, bad-boy persona that made him quite charming. His hair was long, reaching his shoulders, and looked unstyled, yet it was evident that he had taken time to make it look just right. The chocolate waves cascaded down his face, framing his striking features, which were difficult to ignore. His big, round eyes were captivating, and they softened his tough exterior, making him appear less intimidating, especially with that nasty scar running through his left cheek and up to his temple. He had a fair complexion, and his arms were visible, revealing numerous tattoos that covered some scars running up from his forearm to his bicep, which aided his rugged appearance.

He saw you staring and immediately wrapped his arms around himself, trying to conceal the scars from your gaze. You felt bad. You know it’s rude to stare, but he was so enticing to look at; you’d never seen anyone like him before, especially not in this North California town of yours.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You gestured to the arms he was concealing.

"S'all good." He brushed it off, but you could tell he was, in fact, uncomfortable.

"If it makes you feel any better... it makes you look like a total badass." You smirked.

"Oh really?" hearing your compliment did make Eddie feel a little better.

"Yeah, total babe magnet." You flirt.

"Well... I don't know about that?" Eddie's closed-off demeanour quickly changed to bashful.

"You're not from here, are you?" you looked at his name tag "Eddie," you cock your head, taking him in once again.

He's taller than you by at least a full head. His shoulders are broad, and his torso is lean. You'd guess he is around your age, mid-twenties, give or take a year or two.

Eddie liked the way you said his name.

"Nah, moved here a few years ago," he smirked.

"Well, I'm glad you did because you look just like the style of a guy who can help me." You bite your lip.

"I do?"

"Like I said, my friend is a total metalhead, and I don't have a clue on what to get?"

"Sure, yeah, I'm definitely your guy for that."

He walked you over to the correct section of the store, and you noticed a slight limp to his gate.

"If they're just an okay friend, I suggest this," He held up a small cassette. "but if they're a really good friend, Then this is definitely the thing to get them."

"Oh, this looks like something they would like! Charlie never shuts up about this band." You smile, taking the record from Eddie's hands. You decide this is the one and let Eddie know you want him to ring you up.

"So is Charlie like your boyfriend or something" God Munson, real smooth.'

This made you giggle.

"Why do you wanna ask me out or something? You cocked your head.

"Yeah, or something," Eddie's demeanour suddenly became coy.

"Well, Charlotte is my best friend, no boyfriend. " you take the record off Eddie's hands.

"Oh ok cool-cool”

Seconds of awkward silence filled the air, you could sense he wanted to talk to you more.

“Yea, well um”-

“You think I could have your number?" He asked while fiddling with his fingers. His long, thick fingers were decorated with silver rings, scars and chipped black polish. You liked his fingers; he looked like the kind of guy who knew how to use them.

Eddie's personality was more like that of a teddy bear than his outward appearance suggested.

"Sure," You smiled and pulled out an old receipt and a pen from your purse. You flipped it to the blank side and wrote your name and number on the back. "Call me." You winked as you passed it to Eddie before exiting the store.

Eddie couldn't believe what just happened. He locked up as soon as you left, watching to make sure you made it into your car safely. The crime rate in this town was non-existent, but now Eddie knew what was lurking in the shadows. He could never be too careful.

Eddie made it home about half an hour later and was examining the small paper you'd given him. He looked over the pink loopy writing of your name, and he traced over the love heart you'd written in the top right corner.

"What that you got there, boy" Wayne walked into the room and noticed what Eddie had been memorizing. He bent down and picked up the white paper marked in pink ink off of the coffee table. "Well, well, well, I'll be damned," He huffed with excitement. It was about time Eddie put himself out there.

"I bet she's real cute." He winked at his blushing nephew.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed, thinking about your face.

"If you need any tips, let me know." Wayne smiled.

"Huh?"

"I'll have you know I know how to treat a lady right, so when you come begging for help, I'll be right here." He patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay, Mr. Cassanova." Eddie scoffed. Wayne had never been with anyone since Eddie entered his life.

"Whatever," Wayne mumbled under his breath as he exited the living room to give Eddie some semblance of privacy. He would be able to hear the whole conversation, but he still wanted to give the illusion of privacy to his boy.

When the phone rang, you had been wrapping Charlie's present in your bedroom.

"I got it!" You yelled out to your roommates, rushing over to the other end, praying that it was Eddie on the other end.

You let it ring two more times as you took a deep breath before picking it up.

"Hello," You smiled.

"Hey, uh, this is Eddie."

"Hi, Eddie," you smiled. He could tell it was you by your voice. "I'm glad you called." You played with the phone cord, wrapping it and then unwrapping it from your fingers as you spoke.

"I was wondering if you were free on Saturday?"

You jumped up and down, giddy he was asking you out, when Charlie and Evan, your two roommates, rounded the corner to see what had gotten you all googly-eyed.

"I work Saturday until three, but I'm free after" You look at your roommates and Charlie's mouth "Who's that"

"Great, I -uh- was thinking we could maybe see a movie or dinner or both; yeah, both are good." Eddie cleared his throat.

"Yeah, both are good," You giggle back.

"Great, I can pick you up around six, that okay?"

You agree and give him your address. You wish him a good night and hang up with phone with the biggest smile on your face.

"Okay, spill, who was that." Evan and Charlie corner you before you can escape.

"You know the music store on Main St.?" You grin.

"Yea," they say in unison.

"I was in there tonight, and the guy who works there, Eddie, asked me for my number, and we are going out on Saturday."

"You mean the scary guy with the hair and the nasty scar on his face?" Evan's eyes widen.

"Trust me, he is not scary," you giggle.

"Okay," Evan draws out. He was always protective of you.

"Trust me, you should have seen how timid he was; he's really sweet." You reassure them.

"We need to get you an outfit!" Charlie jumps into action, heading for your room.

"Wait!" You rush by her, shoving the gift under your pillow so she can't see anything.

"Something I should know? any particular reason you were at the music store tonight?"

"Nope! No reason at all; I saw a cute guy and thought I would shoot my shot." You brush off

"Yeah, okay," She totally knew.

Eddie was frantic. This was honestly and truly his first date. He doesn’t count the disaster of a night that was Jackie Manning in the fourth grade that had been wiped from his memory.

Eddie was bouncing around the house from room to room, trying to gather things he needed for the evening. He wanted this to work. He wanted to get to know you. He wanted to build something, he was already a twenty four year old who’s never been in a relationship or had sex. And he wanted those two things so badly. He was lonely, and he missed his friends from Hawkins, but he could never go back, not after everything that had happened. And because of everything that happened was the exact reason he was still a virgin.

The pressure to please was building in his head as the time started getting closer to 6:00pm.

“Don’t psych yourself out, kid.” Wayne watched as his nephew flew around the house. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“What if she thinks I’m a freak like everyone else?” His sentence tapers off as his voice turns into a mumbled whisper.

“Son, listen to me. This town is no Hawkins. You do not need to hide anymore, and you never know. Maybe she’s more of a freak than you ever can be,” his uncle laughed.

“Not helping.” He rolls his eyes, walking back to his room. He was looking for the new cologne he bought for tonight. He sprits it on himself maybe one too many times, but it didn’t matter, he was sweating so much he needed to change his shirt, again.

Looking into the mirror, he couldn't help but notice the scars that crisscrossed along his torso. It was obvious that his scars had a story, one that was filled with pain and struggle. Despite feeling self-conscious, Eddie took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was more than his physical appearance. With care, he fixed his hair and pulled on a black long-sleeved collared shirt, hoping it would provide some comfort and confidence.

With one last deep breath, he worked up the courage to grab his keys and walk out the front door.

“Good luck, be yourself, don’t forget the flowers and open the door for her damnit! I didn’t raise you to be no brute!”

“Got it!” Eddie yelled out before shutting the door with a click.

As you were lost in thought, a distant rumble of an old engine caught your attention, and you instinctively turned towards the window. You noticed a striking red two-door sedan pulling up to the front of your house, and your eyes were immediately drawn to Eddie as he stepped out of the car. He exuded an air of confidence, wearing a sleek black leather jacket that complimented his impressive physique. You couldn't help but watch as he flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his black boots.

Your gaze moved up his long, toned legs, admiring the way they looked in his fitted black jeans, to his slim waist and broad shoulders that seemed to dominate the space around him. As he walked towards the trunk of the car, his movements were so graceful that they seemed almost rehearsed. He retrieved what looked like a bouquet of flowers. You couldn’t help but fucked him as you watched how he walked up to the front porch. He looked like pure sex, and you couldn’t wait to climb him like a tree.

Yeah, it has been a while since you last got laid, and this date with Eddie was getting your hopes up that that streak will soon come to an end.

The closer he got to the porch, the more the butterflies built in your stomach. The knock on the door shot you up from where you were perched, and you quickly made your way down the stairs.

“Hi” you smile brightly as you open the door.

“Hey,” Eddie smirked shyly as he took you in. It was like he forgot to breathe for a second. How could someone be cute and sexy at the same time?

“Hi” you repeated.

“I got you these.” he passed you a cute bouquet of pink and purple flowers.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You smile and smell them, finding your bashfulness.

“For us, you shouldn’t have!” Evan comes up and takes the flowers out of your hands

“Okay, bad boy, have our girl back by midnight” Charlie comes up from behind you, giving Eddie a once over.

“Charlie?” Eddie points.

“Oh, you talked about me? I’m flattered,” your best friend pecks you on the cheek.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are?” Eddie motions to Evan.

“Evan” he smiles and puts his hand out to shake. “The unspoken about roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just salty. I’m going out, and he’s stuck at home with Charlie and her new Dio album,” you smirk.

“Well, I hope you enjoy, I’m personally a fan of track 8,” Eddie rocks back on his heels.

“I like him; he’s the boy version of me.” Charlie nods in approval.

“Okay, let’s go.” You grab Eddie's arm and close the door behind you before your roommates can say anymore.

Eddie walked you to the passenger side of the red sedan and opened the door for you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Eddie jogged to the other side.

The car ride was a little quiet but not long. Eddie jogged out to the other side and opened the door for you with a smile.

You talked a bit more before the movie. He bought the popcorn and drinks. He didn’t open up much about why he moved, but you spoke about your interests and your future goals up until the movie started.

During the movie, you tried to pass signals to him to make a move. You rested your hand out so he could take it, but it seemed that he was engrossed in the film. You tried leaning in closer so he could put his arm around you, but nothing. So you pulled a Hail Mary and rested your hand on his thigh. You felt his body stiffen under your touch, but the. He relaxed a little and took your hand in his.

You glanced over at Eddie, and he was grinning at you. The light off the movie screen reflected off the deep scar marking Eddie’s cheek. God, he was beautiful.

“What?” Eddie whispered.

Shit, did you say that out loud?

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered back confidently. Something about Eddie told you he wasn’t complimented often, but you wanted to change that.

“Oh,” Eddie blushes, the red crawled up his chest, and he felt his ears burning bright red. Thankful for his long hair and the dark theatre.

After the movie, Eddie didn’t let go of your hand until you got to the car; then, when you both were back in the car, he bravely reached over and took your hand in his once more.

Dinner was lovely; he pulled out your chair for you, and he opened up more to you about himself. He was extremely charming and funny, vibrant and animated, and he made you feel alive. Eddie was such a breath of fresh air compared to the men from your past.

By the end of the night, you didn’t want it to end. You drove around for a while before you both decided it was for the best to take you home.

Like the perfect gentleman he had been all night, Eddie walked you up to your door.

“I had a really nice night with you.” You smiled up at him. He made you feel like a teenager again.

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Your heart soared at the nickname.

Eddie leaned in, hoping and praying he was reading the room correctly. He felt like his insides were going to explode, and he took the risk and kissed you.

Eddie’s hands grabbed your waist and pulled you in closer as you leaned into him. He felt your hands wrap around his neck and bring your bodies closer. His hard frame was pressed against your soft one; he let a soft moan slip as he felt your soft breasts graze his chest and your plush thighs press against his centre.

Eddie quickly pulled away once he felt his cock hardening against your body; the last thing he needs is your thinking he is some perv.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Eddie cupped your face, giving you one quick peck before stepping back and trying to cover his crotch with his jacket.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you smile, and you look at him like no one has looked at Eddie. It made his knees feel like jello.

“I’ll call you,” he smirked; his confidence had grown since he walked out his front door.

“You better”

Eddie and you have been dating for two months now. Everything had been going well, everything but your sex life, or lack thereof.

Eddie hadn’t made a move. Nothing went past makeouts and heavy petting, and you were starting to get insecure. Everything else was amazing, but nothing ever led to anything more.

You had tried to initiate sex, but every time you were turned away, even a blow job, Eddie made an excuse for you not to go past kissing.

You were pulling away, and Eddie could sense it. He was absolutely fucking this up, but his inner thoughts were his worst enemy. How could you be with someone as inexperienced and deformed as him? Could he please you? What if he finished in ten seconds? He would be mortified. But all of that felt like nothing if it meant losing you.

Tonight, he would change that. Tonight, he had the whole evening planned. He had the house to himself as Wayne was also out with a lady friend he had met at the town bar. Things were looking up for the Munson men in California.

After your date with Eddie, he invited you over to his place for the first time. His house was beautiful; you wondered how Eddie could afford a place like this? He had already disclosed to you he had purchased it all on his own.

“Are you a part of the mob” you joke as you take in the house.

Eddie chuckled and led you further into his home.

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah, whatever you’re having,” As you make your way over to the large sofa you take a seat and let out a deep sigh as you sink into the comfortable cushions.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Eddie shuffling around in the kitchen, and you begin to feel a little uneasy in the silence, not knowing what to do to fill the time. Thankfully, Eddie walks in with two beers in his hands, and you can't help but smile at the sight of him.

He hands you a beer and takes a sip of his own before heading over to the stereo to put on some music. As the music starts to fill the room, you begin to feel more at ease.

“So, where is your Uncle?” You ask casually.

“Out for the night, we have the place to ourselves.” He smiles as he sits down beside you.

“Oh, so he is gone the whole night?” You ask, trying not to get your hopes up.

“Yep,” he ended his word with a crisp pop.

“That’s good.” You nod your head. “Sure is a big place to be alone in.”

“Wanna keep me company?” Eddie nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Yes,” you sigh as the beer in your hands has been completely forgotten. Finally, you were going to spend some much-needed alone time with Eddie.

You push back so you can turn your head to kiss Eddie. You turn your body so you can get a better angle. Eddie cups your face pulling you closer, he wanted to feel you, all of you.

You needed to feel him more, too; your pussy was in control; you swung your leg over his lap so you could straddle your man. Your hips started moving on their own. Grinding down onto Eddie’s lap. Eddie hands travels from your face down your back to cup your ass pulling you closer. His cock was already hard; you felt how big he was through his taught jeans. You pull away to slip your hands under his shirt, but Eddie grabs your wrists hastily.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask worried. The grip on your wrists was firm. “I thought you were into this?” You feel like you are folding into yourself.

“I am!” He was quick to correct you.

“Do you not want me in that way?” Your voice was so small.

“No! I mean, yes, I do, I really, really do.” He shakes his head.

“Then why don’t you want to do anything with me?”

“I do, fuck, sweetheart. I really do. It’s all I think about.” He stroked your hair reassuringly.

“Then let me.” You tried unbuttoning Eddie’s jeans, but he stopped you once again. You were fighting back tears of embarrassment. You were throwing yourself at him, and he was rejecting you time and time again.

“Sweetheart, wait, I have to tell you something… well, two things.”

“What it’s it, baby?” Now you were nervous.

“I-shit- I want this to be… be so good for you, but I’m…not really…experienced.” he avoided eye contact, and it finally clicked.

“Eddie, are you a virgin?” Your question with no judgment or malice in your tone.

He slowly nods his head, looking down in his lap.

“Baby, that doesn’t matter to me.” You hook a finger under his jaw to make him look at you.

His wide eyes were sorrowful like he didn’t want to disappoint you.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a kiss as you lean down into him. Slowly, you started rocking your hips into his lap once again.

“Sweetheart, there is uh-one more thing.” He pulls away; you can already feel his thick cock beneath you.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do anything.”

“No, no, I-I want to. It’s umm. Shit”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” you cooed.

“I kinda have to if I want to sleep with you…”

“Okay, Eddie. Take your time.”

“My uh- scars. They’re everywhere." he gestured to his middle, " And I don’t want you to be grossed out or whatever.” He was bitterly honest with you. All of his walls came tumbling down, and you felt like an ass for not even considering his feelings about the situation.

“Eddie,” you sighed.

“No, I know what I look like, and it’s not normal. I don’t want you to get scared off or worse because I really like you. And god, I wanna have sex with you so bad it’s all I can think about that makes me sound so perverted- but it’s true. I want to be with you so bad.”

You cut him off with a kiss. A deep, sensual kiss that makes Eddie forget his own name.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper into his lips.

“You don’t have to. I want this to be about you.”

“No baby, you do so much for me. Let me do this for you” You kiss down his jaw to his neck, sucking a dark purple mark until you’re satisfied and Eddie is withering underneath you, trying to get any sense of friction.

Your hands explored his waist above his shirt, feeling his body. It was bumpy, and there were ridges where you were not used to, but it didn’t deter you from wanting to be with him.

You could feel his body stiffen when your fingers traced over his scars.

“Is there any place you don’t want me touching?” You whispered.

“No, no, touch me- please.” his chest moved up and down with his heavy breaths.

Eddie’s body felt like it was on fire. No one has ever felt him in this way. He needed more but didn’t want to press you. So he let you take your time.

Your hands once again tried to break past the barrier of his shirt. This time, he let you as your warm fingertips worked their way up his tummy, feeling his skin beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” You ask.

Eddie nodded his head frantically; he trusted you and wanted nothing more than to keep going.

He sat up a bit, letting you shuffle the soft cotton over his head.

Your gaze didn’t break from his body. It was so beautifully mangled you could see he had skin grafting scars all across his chest and sides.

“I get it if you’re not attracted to me.”

“Hey,” you grab his head in both hands, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you right now.” You take a hand off his face to grab his hand and guide it to your soaked panties.

Eddie’s eyes widen with surprise as he feels your pooled slick in your panties.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasped.

“I want you, Eddie. I want you so bad. I want to make you feel good.” You grind yourself on his hand before you slink off his lap and onto your knees in front of him.

You were about to give him the best blowjob imaginable. You didn’t know what Eddie went through, but you knew he was one of the most genuine guys you’ve ever met, and he deserved this moment.

You were quick to unbuckle his belt and pants before guiding your hand up his still-covered cock. Your fingers are hooked under the elastic waistband of his boxers, and his pulsing cock sprang free.

Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you… you knew he would be big, but you weren’t expecting him to be that big. How has he been hiding this from you all this time?

“What? What's wrong?”

“Eddie, you’re huge,” your mouth hung agape. In front of you is a cock at least eight inches long and thick, with a slight curve to the left.

“What? No.”

“You’re joking?” You laugh.

Eddie looks at you with a blank stare. Maybe laughing while his cock was out wasn’t the best idea.

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you take his length in your hand. “This is the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” It felt heavy in your hand.

"Really?"

"Really, I don't think it's going to fit?" You chuckle, a little worried.

"Can- can we at least try?" Eddie stutters.

"Don't worry, baby, I always like a challenge."

You didn't let Eddie respond before your mouth was enveloping the tip of his cock. You swirled your tongue around the head before taking as much as possible without triggering your gag reflex.

"Holy shit" Eddie instinctively grabbed your hair as you lowered your head down the shaft. His face scrunched up in pleasure.

"You like that baby?" You ask, popping up for air, your hand replacing your mouth.

"Yes," he sucked in a sharp breath as your hand applied the perfect amount of pressure to his cock.

"I can't believe you've been holding this secret from me for so long, naughty boy." You smirked before taking him back in your mouth.

" I-I-didn't-fuck! Didn't know?" Fuck why had Eddie been holding off on this feeling? This wonderful feeling of your beautiful mouth surrounding his length.

You worked your head up and down his head before Eddie pulled you off unexpectedly.

" I'm gonna come if you keep doing that."

"That's the point, baby." You smiled.

"But I wanna have sex," He rushes out.

"Okay." You smile, and you both stand up, taking his hand in yours. "Wanna show me your bedroom?"

Eddie frantically nods his head yes before he pulls you up the stairs to the bedroom. You giggle behind him as he runs up the stairs, trying not to trip as his pants and boxers are wrapped around his ankles.

He rushes the both of you over to his bed, and he lays you down before him before you can take off your clothes.

"Tell me what you want," you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind Eddie's ear as he hovers over you.

"You, I want you so bad," he whines between kisses.

"Good boy," you smile, and Eddie swears his heart stops beating.

"How do you want me?" you ask as Eddie's hands explore every inch of your still-clothed body.

"Naked." He kissed the exposed skin of your neck.

"Mmmm, good boy, tell me what you want," you say as Eddie's mouth finds your sweet spot.

You hear Eddie whimper at your praise, so you decide to keep pushing. In a moment of intense emotion, something inside him breaks. A deep longing takes hold of him, compelling him to be nothing but a perfect and devoted man for you. The thought of being your good boy fills him with an unfamiliar sense of need, one that he has never encountered before.

"You like it when I call you that, baby?"

Eddie mumbles an answer into your neck.

"What was that? I couldn’t hear you."

"Yes, please, I want to be your good boy." He rutted his bare cock against your wet panty-covered core, and it sent a wave of pleasure through you.

"Oh, Eddie," You moan. "help me take off my clothes," You ask sweetly.

Eddie waisted not another second before your shirt was over your head and your skirt ripped off of your hips. You managed your bra while Eddie did the honours of revealing your swollen wet pussy.

"How do you want me?" you ask as your fingers trace your pussy lips before opening your legs wide for Eddie to see you play with your pussy.

"I've died and gone to heaven." Eddie's eyes were wide as he took in your body.

"I want you to feel me, baby." you reach out for Eddie's hand and guide it back to your pussy like you had downstairs. You slowly guided his thick fingers through your folds, collecting your slick before you showed him where your tight hole was.

“Holy shit” Eddie couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you like this.

"It's okay, you can go in" You rocked your hips into Eddies and hoping his fingers would breach your cunt.

"Oh my god," You say in unison as his long, thick finger stretches you out ever so slightly.

"You're so tight." Eddie slowly tests the waters as he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy.

"mmmm, think about how good it's going to feel when my tight little pussy is wrapped around your big, thick cock"

Eddie's brain short-circuited, his hand stopped moving, and you let out a giggle when you realized you had broken his brain.

"Can I?"

"Just a little bit more warming up, baby. You're just so big I need to get ready for you." You bat your lashes at him.

"fuck you can't say things like that to me."

"Why you don't like it?" You tease.

"Quite the opposite, sweetheart."

"You wanna know a secret to a woman's pleasure?"

"Yes"

"You gotta pay a lot of attention to right here" You guide his hand to your swollen clit. You let out a moan when his fingers make contact with your bundle of nerves.

You show him how to circle it, and Eddie couldn't believe the sight below him. He was giving you pleasure. He could tell by your blissed-out face he was doing a good job; he was being your good boy.

"Fuck I need you now," you moan, feeling your orgasm build.

"I have condoms," Eddie blurts out.

"Good, go get one," you breathe heavy with lust. Eddie hops off the bed, almost tripping over his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles, making you giggle.

You watched as he reached his nightstand opening the drawer. Your pussy was throbbing, and you couldn’t take your eyes off how his shoulder blade jutted out, and his back muscles rippled and dipped through the large scar that covered most of his left side. Your eyes travelled down, and the perfect view of his perky ass was right there for the taking. So you can’t help yourself as you reach out and swat at it playfully, making Eddie jump.

“You’re a little minx.” he turns quickly, wrapped condom in hand.

Eddie quickly crawls back into the bed before unwrapping and rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Then he froze, not knowing what to do next?

“How do you want me, Eddie baby?” You playfully twirl a piece of his unruly hair around your finger.

“Can-can you be on top to start?”

“Layback for me.” You un-twirl your finger from his hair and gently push his shoulders back so he can get comfortable.

His cock lay flat against his stomach, passing where his belly button should have been.

Slowly, you wrap your legs around his body, aligning your centre with his. You take his girth in your delicate hand and guide his cock to your wanton hole. You glide his tip through your pussy lips a few times, teasing and collecting your slick before slowly sinking your way down. You let out a shaking breath as he splits you in half.

It took everything within Eddie to not rut his hips up into you; his knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying to do everything not to plant his feel so he could to hold back.

He’d never felt anything so heavenly. You were so fucking tight around him. He couldn’t believe how amazing this felt. Your pussy was his own personal paradise, and he was never leaving.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-“ you stuttered as your pussy adjusted to his size. The burn was long but so good, you wanted more of him.

Eddie watched as your pinched-up face relaxed, changing quickly from uncomfortable to pure pleasure when you reached the hilt.

“Holy shit,” Eddie swore he could have come right then and there if he wanted it. But he didn’t want it, not yet. God, he be damned if he didn’t make this moment last forever.

“You like the way my pussy is wrapped around your fat cock, big boy?” You start to rock your hips slowly, teasing the man who is falling apart beneath you.

Usually, you were always the one in his position, but you felt a power you’d never experienced. You wanted to be in control tonight; you wanted to make this so good for Eddie, your sweet Eddie with a monster cock.

Eddie jerked his hips up, and your pussy clenched. “Oh fuck!” Eddie cried as your muscles contracted around him. This was it; nothing could ever be better than this right now.

“You feel that honey? How tight my wet warm pussy is for you?” You start to bounce, and Eddie, stood, corrected.

He tried to hold on as your tits started bouncing in his face as you worked yourself up and down on his cock.

“Touch me,” you panted.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His hands snapped up to your hips gripping you tightly before he ran them up to your swollen breasts.

You throw your head back as Eddie pinches your nipples, exposing your neck. Eddie acts on instinct, wanting to ravage you, he sits up and latches his mouth onto your exposed neck, then down your chest to your perked nipples.

“Oh baby,” you cry at the sudden movement beneath you. The new angel only sank his cock deeper into your cunt. He was filling you so good, you’ve never felt this full.

“Can I - can we switch?” Eddie can’t take it he needs to fuck you, like really fuck you.

“Yes,” you were completely fucked out.

You let out a squeak as Eddie man handles you to be underneath him. He wastes no time pounding back into you the second your back hits the mattress. His sting hands are gripping your hips so hard you’re sure there will be finger shaped bruises. He nearly took your breath away as his hips snapped into your dripping pussy, your walls pulsed around him as his cock grazed that sweet spot that is deep, deep inside.

“OH EDDIE” you scream, eyes rolling back into your head.

It was music to Eddie’s ears. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He needed you to finish. He suddenly remembered the advice you gave him minutes before. His hand grazed down your body to your clit.

His touch sent a zap of pleasure through your core, only making your pussy tighten even more. His fingers worked your pussy slowly, a contrast from how fast he was thrusting into you.

Moans of ecstasy escaped your throat as your brain shut off. You were no longer in control; it was all Eddie.

“Baby, you still with me?” He coos in your ear.

“Fuck Eddie, don’t stop! I’m going to cum!” You wrap your legs around Eddie to pull him closer to you, not that it was possible. You wanted him buried inside of you forever.

“Come on, baby, come for me.”

You broke at his words. Your orgasm ripped through you as he worked his cock through your tight grip. Eddie broke as soon as you did no way he could hold on any longer.

A loud roar rips out of his chest as his seed spurts out of him into the condom that is buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck me, you sure that was your first time?” You giggle, still totally fucked out.

“Yep, guess you can say I’m a natural sex god.” his ego was definitely boosted.

“Mmmhmmmmm,” you nod in agreement. Rolling over to wrap a bare leg around his body.

Eddie couldn’t believe his life could be this sweet. He wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Tags!: @nailbatanddungeon @s6raphic @3rd-conchord @sadbitchfangirl @gri959 @reidsbtch @taintedcigs @skyline4446 @babygorewhore @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @lesservillain @imyourdaninow @bimbobaggins69 @liminalpebble @keeksandgigz @lightcommastix @wtfmariaclara @st4rgirll3 @ali-r3n @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[studiopeached]

THREE, TWO, RUN. ft. Peter Dunbar

♡ SUMMARY: After fleeing from your boyfriend, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it.

♡ CONTENT WARNINGS: pwp, afab, fem!reader, ex-boyfriend!peter x reader, peter being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick peter—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, bondage

♡ WORD COUNT: 2.4k plot, 1.9k smut. 4.3k total

♡ STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER. this is a spin off from my @peachedtvs blog called 'Til Death Dont We Part'

♡ MASTERLIST. cumming soon! Main blog @peachedtv

Peter felt you were quite silly, even from when his eyes first laid upon you through the windows of your diner.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Peter wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the music he’d hum to silently as he got rid of your recent obstacles. A heavy saw in his hand slashing back and forth, splitting bone into two before stuffing remains of human flesh into a black tarpe—or when he'd bring the nuisances back alive. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth melody muffled through his earbuds.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Peter wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Peter always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.

Peter was always in control.

Control of his job, control of his victims, the police, his therapy, the growing police patrols in your city. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over 3 years ago.

The first day you two had met, Peter was not in a good mental space. His family was in ruins, the relationship between he and his mother deteriorating until he had finally decided to storm out of the house and leave for good. Leave his home for good.

With nowhere to go, and a rumbling stomach, Peter decided the best course of action was to first fuel his appetite. Damn Diner was loud, painstakingly so. There was a mess of voices, the clash of plates, cutlery, dragging of chairs against tilted floors, chaos that hummed against a muffled out melody of tunes through the ceiling speakers. Everything was so loud. There was a child in the booth next to his. A mess of ketchup and mustard spraying everywhere, a glob falling onto his cheek as his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. There was a couple in the booth across, arguing over the cries of their child whining for a crumb of their attention. There was yelling from the kitchen, scolding as a worker had done something wrong and sent an order to the incorrect table.

And then, there was you.

Timidly, you rushed over to his table. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, apologizing profusely as you explained the mess around the diner. And there, all the loudness stopped. Your voice muffled, muffled until it became strikingly clear and the diner around him seem to slow. Peter's eyes traced your face, how you were out of breath, how kindly you looked to him, how you asked if he was okay. And in this world of distain, you were pure.

And there was the first twist.

Peter spent nights going crazy.

Absolutely insane.

When he had first broken into your apartment, his heavy steps drowned out by the moans of your roommate through the paper thin walls, he thought he would melt into the floor when he first inhaled the scent of you room.

It was a soft aroma, something that had his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he saw you laying peacefully on the bed. Your head was smushed between a folded pillow, covering your ears as your face was scrunched in discomfort.

"Lucy's being so loud tonight, isn't she, Darling?" Peter spoke softly, the back of his hand gracing your cheek as he sat on the edge of your bed. Careful to dip your mattress slowly so as to not wake you. Carefully, his other hand trailed up the curve of your torso, hip to waist, before entangling with your fingers.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. And there, he knew even fate was in his hands the moment he had yours in his.

When Peter had mustered up the courage to approach you in the park, he felt his heart beating out his chest, his mind going hazy from everything he wanted to do to you—from hearing your voice up close again. It had been nearly a year since you two had first met at the diner, and it seemed as though you had forgotten him completely. Luckily, Peter knew enough about you through his year of...supervision, and was soon able to swipe you off your feet. There, he became yours.

Your boyfriend.

And you, his girlfriend.

Often the two of you shared late nights after your dates. The hum of cicadas drumming into the background as you'd lay into the grass of the park the two of you 'first' met in. Your hands would intertwine together as the other would hold the grass below. In this park, the two of you would often talk about your dreams, aspirations, or talk shit about whatever seemed to bother you in your life at the moment. And Peter always listened.

In other moments, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. A silence paired with the ambience of howling wind, crickets, and a glint in your eye from the reflection of the moonlight and stars twinkling above. And through this silence, your heart spilled.

“I want to be with you forever, Peter." You spoke softly, you eyes still stuck on the starlight above.

A twist, something twisted once more.

For the first time, Peter eyes looked away from you—a blush traveling to his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features.

“Forever, then, Darling."

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and you both had your own jobs—despite Peter's insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Peter's dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Peter.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, Darling.” Peter greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Peter looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Peter did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarray, having strangely lost employee after employee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your employer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Peter.

Although, something felt off.

With Peter home, it was always lively. The ambiance of bustling trees against the wind outside, a hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, a low vibrato of your home's ventilation system, and the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt the presence of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creaking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Peter, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your boyfriend.

You were terrified.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even more so with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and employer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Peter served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly three years later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of the fourth apartment complex you were going to apply to. Advertised as a gated community of safety, an exorbitant lot you were willing to hack up the money for to get away from him.

Although, just as three years ago, just as you were able to arrive to the complex, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice low, strange, and terrifyingly familiar. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in the home you shared with him. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your boyfriend's hand.

“I missed you, my Darling.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Peter's hand off your shoulder when a burning wet rag was drowned upon your lower face. You kicked, muffled screams and sobs as you dug into the palm that pinched the bridge of your nose, your body growing increasingly more limp. You didn't know what was happening, but by the next moment, it seemed as though you were melting into the floor—the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a rough, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Peter’s deep eyes had an errie glint. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Peter still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into maddness. Sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes that contrasted against sharp blues. He looked terrifying. His forearms were scattered with scars and wounds, peeled back scabs across his skin—likely from the amount of struggling you had done while in his arms. Your name was etched into his skin. Over and over and over, hearts and sharp lines littered as keloids formed in the place of his artwork. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Pe—“

"You remember the time when you'd say it back, don't you, Darling?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A mix of insanity and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Peter felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did three years ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Peter brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Peter licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Peter marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Peter held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Peter got from the sight of you.

His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Peter that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Peter was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Peter pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"P-Peter—!" He only smiled in response.

"You've always been so sensitive, huh? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Peter, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Peter stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Peter kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Peter, he pulled a length of manila rope from his back pocket—grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Peter to slow down, to be more gentle.

A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Peter, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"P-Peter, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You were always so easy to please.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, bruising your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Peter smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Peter continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitching and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Darling?" Peter was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clenched around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Peter having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Peter, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Peter suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess I can be a little rough, you were always into that, anyways." Before you could understand what Peter meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Peter pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Peter pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Peter only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Peter where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-boyfriend's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Baby."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Peter swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him baby once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Peter laughed.

"You truly know me so well, Darling." Peter's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Peter pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Peter's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Peter's fingers swirling your clit viciously.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Peter let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Peter continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"B-baby, Peter—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since three years ago, and for the first time together—Peter kissed you.

His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Peter's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Peter's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Peter allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, Darling."

Peter spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't you leave me ever again."

You're watching...

© Studio Peached 2024

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 9

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; drinking; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; mentions of therapy/counseling; a jealous and possessive Ghost; violence

Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

"Slow down," Ava yelled over the loud music, "That's like your second shot and we just got here."

You smirked at her before tossing back the shot. The liquor burned your throat a little, but you didn't care. As you placed the glass down on the bar top, you tried ordering another before Ava stopped you.

"Why not," you pouted a little before giggling.

"Y/n... what's going on?" she asked in concern.

You slightly groaned, "Can't a girl have fun out at the club with her best friend?"

"I mean yes but-"

"But what?" the grin still on your lips as you ordered another shot - this time for both of you. When the bartender slid them to you, you raised your glass up, "Cheers!" you shouted, as you didn't even wait for Ava to clink her glass with yours before you threw your head back, gulping the liquor down your throat. You looked around the club, seeing people dance to the music.

This wasn't like you. Of course, you drank, and of course, Ava had seen you drunk before. But something was off.... way off. You'd barely said anything about why you wanted to go out when she picked you up. And you only talked about the dress you had on and how sexy you looked.

"Simon come back today?" she asked, eyeing you with a knowing look; looking for a reaction out of you.

And a reaction you gave. Your body tensed while the smile that was plastered over your face dropped immediately. You glanced at her and almost scoffed, "Yeah."

"And?" she pushed for an answer.

One you weren't wanting to give.

You sighed, "And nothing... Look I don't wanna talk about him right now alright? I just drink and shake my ass," you laughed at your own sentence, "Now will you take a shot with me?"

She wanted to protest. She should have convinced you to leave the place. But she also knew exactly what you were going through. The moments where you said fuck it to everything; the progress you had made with Simon. Something set you off... but she wasn't going to make it worse. So she did what any best friend would do.... she ordered a shot for both of you.

She would get you to tell her eventually anyway. For now... she'd help you have your fun.

"Can I get a whiskey? No ice," a deep voice, that was next to you, yelled at the bartender, "And.. whatever the pretty lady's having."

You glanced up, meeting the blue eyes of the man who had ordered his drink, only to find him smiling down at you.

Oh.

He meant you.

The immediate blush that formed on your face as you looked down at the empty glass in your hand only made his grin wider. He leaned down closer to you, lips halfway to your ear, "What's your name beautiful?" he asked before straightening up and waiting for you to respond.

Ava couldn't help her eyes from widening and the giggle that escaped from her as she stood next to you. You quickly glanced at her, shooting her a look - stop laughing.

"Y/n." You smiled., half blushing... half internally freaking out.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said before the bartender handed his drink to him while sliding another shot of tequila to you. "I'm Keegan." He introduced himself while holding out his hand for you to shake.

God, was he flirting hard. But you shook it anyway, hating how red your face was. You hoped he hadn't noticed it since it was dark in the club. The only light being from the DJ and strobe lights that flickered over the huge room. But you were pretty sure he saw as you couldn't help but observe how his blue eyes seemed to shine even in the darkness of the club.

************************************************************************

Simon and Johnny arrived back at your apartment, with Simon all but busting through the front door as soon as he unlocked it. Johnny tried multiple times to calm him down... At least get him to slow down when driving back there, but the man hadn't heard anything he said. All he wanted was to get back home to you. But you were gone.

What was he expecting? That you were joking? That you were tricking him into coming back home? No. He wasn't stupid. He knew you meant what you said. And that alone made his hands tremble a bit.

"Simon," Johnny grabbed his shoulder to face him. The sergeant rarely used his friend's real name; always accustomed to calling him by his callsign. But this time was different. This time he needed to really get through to him.

There was a long and silent pause as Johnny looked at Simon. The desperate and regretful look in his eyes. The water that gathered around the white part of them as he fought back the tears that threatened to fall. He was scared. Fuck he was so scared. Of what though? He didn't want to think about it. It wasn't that he didn't trust you. God, he trusted you with his entire life, and only he fucked that up because of his stupid actions.

What he didn't trust.. was other men. You'd had been drinking some wine when he got home. He remembered seeing the glass in your hand and the half-empty bottle on the counter. He didn't want to think about you being out and so vulnerable to someone taking advantage of you.

"Y'need to calm down. She's gonna come back home."

"I need to go find her," Simon said as he stepped back and made his way to the front door.

"What? L.T. ya can't do that!" he yelled, trying to rationalize with his friend. "She's gonna kill ya."

Simon repsonded immediately "I'll let her then."

"Y're not thinkin right mate."

A loud groan left his mouth, muffled by the mask he still had on, "I just wanna go get m'wife Johnny.

This was a bad idea; a terrible idea. But the sergeant couldn't help but feel bad for the damn man. He barely focused on the mission while they were gone, Price barking out orders several times because he wasn't listening. He hardly slept.... and now he was about to go out and look for you.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny said before agreeing, "If she does kill ya, can I have ya motorcycle at least?"

He couldn't help it. He was a comedian.. even if it wasn't funny.

But Simon couldn't help but smirk, "I'll give you the chest candy,"

************************************************************************

You were definitely going to regret drinking when you woke up the next morning. But as the night continued on, you didn't want to think about that. You and Ava were either on the dance floor when one of your favorite songs played over the speakers, or you'd be at the bar, talking to Keegan. Ava couldn't help the teasing comments she said under her breath when he said something that made you blush. Even when you went to the restroom to touch up your makeup, she teased you.

"He's been staring at you all night," she giggled.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "I don't care. It's not like I'm going home with him." She hummed in agreement.

Yes, Keegan was very attractive (really fucking attractive), and he was flirting a lot with you. His eyes trailing up and down your body ever so often, always pausing at your thigh where the split in your dress was or the low cut in the front that exposed your chest.

Really you damn near had on nothing - the dress showing very little left to the imagination, especially with the guy. And you could tell he wanted to see more.

When the two of you made your way back to the dance floor, you thought nothing more about Keegan. Your hips swayed to the beat, singing the lyrics to the song. You giggled when you saw Ava decline some random dude who wanted to dance. You were so caught up in the beat you almost didn't feel a pair of hands graze your hips as a warm body strolled up behind you. You looked back, seeing those blue eyes of Keegan.

"You know, I've been watching you dance all night beautiful," he said, lips so close to your ear, your pulse quickened. But with the liquor clouding your mind a bit, you just blushed.

"Oh yeah?" you turned your head to look at him."

"Mhmm," he leaned even closer, lips brushing your ear, "Makes me want to worship you."

"Worship me?" you asked in pure curiosity, making him hum again, "How would you do that?"

He was waiting for you to ask that. He had been waiting all goddamn night for you to say something - say anything - for him to show you what he meant. He wrapped his right arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you felt the slight bulge in his jeans before he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and then dipped his head to kiss your neck.

It felt wrong. It felt all wrong. Before you even pulled away to deny his offer, a fist flew through the air, hitting him in the face. His arm gave way from your waist as he stumbled back. You turned around, eyes wide, as gasps were heard from the crowd around you, and you glanced to see who had punched him.

Simon.

Everything happened so fast. Keegan - not even realizing why he was just punched - swung back on Simon, hitting him in the jaw. All hell broke loose, and a full-on fight spiraled between them as other men from the crowd tried to break it up. Johnny yelled Simon's name as he tried pulling him off of Keegan. It was a futile attempt to get him to back off, but it was your scream that got him to stop, his eyes locking directly on yours.

In the midst of it all, you had tried fighting your way in the middle to stop both of them but only got pushed into the arms of Ava, who pulled you back so you wouldn't get hurt. Security had forced their way through the crowd, finally making Keegan leave first. You felt awful as he glanced at you in disgust before rolling his eyes and leaving out of the club.

Simon walked up to you not even two seconds later, his hand wrapping around your arm and pulling you out of the club with Johnny and Ava right on your tail. The moment the four of you were outside, you tried to pull away, but it only made his grip tighter.

God, he was mad. He was so mad... but so were you. Something mystifying and intense stirred in your stomach as you looked at Simon. He hadn't said a fucking word. Even when Johnny said he was going to go home, even when Ava said she'd call you tomorrow before she got in her car and left. All he did was open the passenger door, letting you get in the car before walking around the other side and getting in the driver's seat.

Something was brewing between the both of you, and the entire ride home was fueling the fire that was underneath.

Okay.... I hate that I put our Keegan in this only to get into a fight with Simon. Don't hate me okay!!! :( I needed someone to make him lose his mind lol! (I honestly might change this part at a later time... idk yet) What do we think? Give me all the feedback! I love when you all comment and be mad with me.... we are all frustrated and mad at Simon together!

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde

[whydoyoucare866]

hai :3 can i request an enemies to lover miguel o hara fic where they get stuck in a closet together and reader kinda has to sit on his lap because there isnt any space and so after a few minutes of being in there, reader pisses off miguel and miguel kisses them to shut them up and then the rest is history ig 🙇‍♀️

PLS AND THANK YOU! 🙇‍♀️

also pls make the reader speak spanish im BEGGINGGG.

CLOSET

hi! ofc you can! I did my best! I’m sorry that it sucks and is cringy😀😭

Miguel O’ Hara x Hispanic Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Maybe a glimpse of smut, and Miguel being an asshole

You were one of Miguel’s first recruits, you had been working in the spider society for as long as it had existed, you and Miguel were close (or you would like to consider that) since you both shared the same culture and language and it was easier for you to communicate with him when your English wasn’t as good as it is (since in your universe Spanish was the predominant language) and he would be one of the few people who could understand your accent or you speaking Spanish when you forgot a word.

He took it as his personal job to teach you English until you perfected it and people who didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to guess that it wasn’t your first language( though sometimes you still would forget words in English or express yourself better in Spanish) you would both mutually bring food for each other or bond over music, so yeah you considered yourself close to him.

That was until he started becoming way more stressed about everything, yeah he has been a sour asshole ever since his canon event, but people were at least able to get small responses and have conversations that weren’t all about work with him, but as the spider society grew, he felt a lot of pressure on him and started drowning himself in work to the point that he would isolate himself for days until he got everything he needed done, he could spend weeks without sleeping and eating, and obviously as he became more stressed his memories started to impulse even worse emotions on him than they did before.

Of course this made you and your other teammates worried about him, so you started to bring him lunch, make sure he slept, and just went to see if he was okay, but you checking up on him started to annoy him as he got more irritating because of the lack of sleep and the accumulation of stress, so one day he just decided you annoyed him and soon that annoyance turned into hatred, or that’s what he thought it was.

This made him become snappy at you and we all know he can be the greatest asshole, at first you’re patient with him, thinking it will pass, but as it gets worse you reach your ending point and lose all patience starting to respond to him the same way he talked to you.

The sudden change weirded everyone out, but they also noticed that ever since you started hating Miguel back, his mood became even worse, well everyone noticed except for you, which surprised everyone since you were one of the smartest people in the spider society.

So thats why everyone refused to go to a mission with Miguel when he asked them to, arguing that they already had a mission, or that they had something really important to do, until Miguel had no other option but to take you and you had no other option but to go with him.

“Do i reaally have to go with him? I mean can’t he just ask Ben instead?” You said to Jess

“Nope honey, Ben has a really important therapy session”

“Okay? so then ask Gwen? Pavitr? Hobie? anyone else?”

“He already did, they’re all busy”

“Then why can’t you go”

“As important as the spider society is, I have an ultrasound appointment today, so I can’t go even if I wanted to”

“Well the world just hates me then doesn’t it”

“Maybe it does, or maybe it’s doing you a favor”

“Trust me, being alone with him is not a favor, i don’t want to be screamed at about how i’m annoying and a fucking- what was the word? uhm una carga? how did you say that?”

“A burden?”

“Yeah that! I don’t want to be called a burden and shit like that”

“You’re no burden, but I’ll tell you what you sound like, a teenage girl, come on, you’re an adult, you can take things in a professional way”

“Well the one that’s childish is him not me”

“Uh huh, well i’ve gotta go, good luck!”

“Yeah whatever”

You were now approaching Miguel’s office while wishing you were dead ‘Puta madre neta me lleva la verga, ahora si ya no tengo de otra más que ir’ (Fuck this shit, now I really don’t have any option but to go), you were starting to grow nervous as you approached his door, you hadn’t been alone with him since your last fight where he directly called you annoying and a burden, but now you had no other option.

After finishing the mission without actually talking to each other unless necessary, you both came back to the HQ, when you arrived it was weirdly quiet and no one seemed to be there doing their duties even if it was not that late, which was really weird, that was until you saw Peter B. approaching you with a worried look

“Hey y/n, have you seen MayDay? I can’t find her, usually it takes me an hour, but it’s been four hours and I haven’t been able to find her and I’m starting to get worried” Peter said to you while still running up to you and then catching his breath

“Oh, um I’m sorry but we just got back from a mission so we haven’t seen anything, but we can help you look!”

“No we can’t” Miguel said

“Yes we can, anyways where was the last place that you saw her Peter?” You said after glaring at Miguel as if looks could kill

“Well, I think it was in that one room that has a closet.. I always forget what it’s called”

“Okay yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, let’s go take a look”

Miguel followed them even if he said he wouldn’t be helping, Mayday being on the loose could press a lot of buttons and break a lot of things and cause a lot of problems, so there he was, inside of the closet with you, while Peter “looked” around the room, until they heard a loud noise of the door closing and now he was trapped inside with you, the worst thing is that because of the lack of space you ended up in his lap.

“Great, just what I needed”

“You know I’m not happy about being here with you either okay?”

“Oh is that so? or was this your little plan to get me trapped with you and to get all up on my personal space”

“WHAT? I would NOT do that, and I do NOT want to be in the same room as you you fucking asshole!”

“Oh yeah am I an asshole? sorry I couldn’t understand you with that accent”

“WHAT? okay now you’re being unreasonable, you want me to say it in Spanish? I will, Yo no planee esto wey, yo no quiero estar en el mismo lugar que tu, yo no quiero que me hables, yo no te quiero hablar y mucho menos molestar tu pinche espacio personal, así que neta hazme un favor y cállate un rato que ya no te aguanto cabrón, neta deja de cagar el palo y de ser un pendejo de la nada y ni me trates de culpar porque yo ni se que chingados te hice para que me odies tanto-“. (I didn’t plan this, I don’t want to be in the same place as you, I don’t want you to talk to me or to talk to you or even less to be all on your fucking personal space, so please do me a favor and shut up a little because I can’t deal with you anymore, please stop being such an asshole out of nowhere and don’t blame me because i don’t even know what the fuck I did for you to hate me so much-) That’s when you felt something on your lips, and it took you some time to realize he was kissing you, Miguel O’Hara was kissing you, you sure as hell felt as a teenage girl, butterflies in your stomach and everything.

On the other side Miguel was starting to get nervous as you didn’t return the kiss, he was starting to pull away and about to say he was sorry and he didn’t mean it when he felt you pulling him close and kissing him again, at first it was just a sweet kiss, but then it started to get heated, he couldn’t help but moan when he started feeling you grinding against him, with each second passing making him harder, he started kissing your neck and sucking “Fuck Miguel- you’re gonna leave marks” but he didn’t care, he continued, hearing your moans was paradise to him, he wanted to take you there so bad, until, they heard a knock “Um guys? are you okay?” Peter B said as he unlocked the door and opened it making Miguel groan in annoyance “This isn’t over.” he said before the door completely opened and revealed a Peter with a smiling Mayday in his arms.

[porkcutletbowl44]

More Simon x Goth!reader

(SFW & NSFW MDNI)

๋࣭ ⭑🕸🦇🕸๋࣭ ⭑

Simon happily listens to everything you explain about your love for goth music and the culture of it. He even researches on the side to talk to you more about it!

He's your man now, you're his girl, you both indulge in each other's interests and hobbies so of course Simon is going to be the most supportive boyfriend he can be!

"So.... What is clean goth?"

(Glaring) "We don't talk about that."

You both are so different, yet the exact same no one knows what to classify your relationship together—so similar in styles, the black clothes, black makeup (warpaint for Simon, and makeup for you), the gloomy aura, you both seem the same on the outside.

But when people talk to you, they immediately realize you are just a little ray of sunshine hidden in shadows, while Simon rarely ever talks and stays close to you as your big scary guard dog boyfriend privileges.

Simon definitely has some art skill, he's drawn on his own arm while on deployment to pass time (and as free therapy) so he definitely does a few tattoos for you!

When they are particularly painful spots, he's got a light hand and making sure you're alright.

He's always making sure you have your snack and drink nearby, keeping your Nintendo switch charged as a distraction so you can be relaxed when you're getting inked.

"Doin' good, hard part is almost over."

"Breathe, helps wi' the pain. You're doin' so good."

You're Simon's now, if he can make you happy then by God he's gonna do it if it's the last thing he does! If you want a tattoo in a more private area, Simons is jumping on it. Researching about the tattoo sight, best needles, best position for comfort, anything and everything. He's not gonna let some other guy tattoo the small of your back, your upper thigh, your sternum, pelvis, nope. It's just not gonna happen! He's not taking that risk of some other man putting his grimey hands on you!!

Sometimes Simon gets sad when you don't let him kiss all over your face, he just wants to show you some love :(

Your makeup might smudge, ruin all your hard work from the hours it took to get your hand steady.

Simon had an easy fix for this, he buys you top of the line makeup that's water proof and smudge proof! Even buys plenty of the made remover to take it off easily!

Now Simon gets to kiss you whenever he wants! (although he very much enjoys when your make up smudges from the tears of trying to take all of his cock, smudging your black lip stick on your lips and cheeks, your mascara and eyeliner running, but hey, it totally adds to the aesthetic!)

Simon loves obedience in general given his military work, but in love with the way you're his good girl.

He knows you live for the praise (and he's very open to anything else you're interested in on the table ;)) you're just so sweet!

Loves how you come to him with a new idea every night, almost busted in his pants when you showed him one of your slip chains with a little skull on the end of it. It's by far his favorite accessory of yours!

"Perfect thing, you are..."

"Fuuuck, you're takin' me so well, princess."

"Eyes on me, wanna watch you cum, want you to watch me cum inside you."

He's gonna pull it up high to maintain eye contact with you, nowhere you can turn your head when his cock is kissing your cervix over and over, he wants to watch your face when you cum and make a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"like tha', don't you?"

"Pretty, perfect, gorgeous pussy, all mine..."

"Gonna cum? Yeah? Come on, fuck— thas it, thaaass it—"

🫠🫠🫠🫠

[izuke-the-zombie]

This is a little head cannon/What if Macaque had more original powers, a little more Starry Night dreamlike powers leaning into the more nurturing kind, you know, the moon and sun kind of powers? 🌙☀️

 

Maybe in the past, he was like a therapy friend to Wukong, someone he could really be himself with, vent, and tell his secrets without being judged in the safety of his own dreams. Someone he can truly trust, and that was Macaque.

Skip to Redemption Ark for Mac

Now he's a therapy friend to the whole MK team! (Against his will) They cuddle, pet, and vent to him with their problems. He's like one of Sandy's therapy cats, just bigger and grumpier.😾💕✨ he just has this way with people I guess

Okay, this is how it starts: Macaque and Wukong's first encounter was in a dream.

Wukong would not shut up about the pretty demon in his crazy dreams, often to his sworn brothers; he talked about all the fun and crazy adventures he'd have, the long meaningful conversations and jokes, and the occasionally moving pictures of otherworldly strong magical humans with sparkly eyes and spiky hair who wield giant weapons that shoots Fire called anime, and that this had been going on for a few months now.

This annoyed and concerned them; they think it's a demon trying to take over the Monkey King's mind or trying to brainwash him somehow, so Azure Lion and the Sworn Brothers all brainstormed together to devise a plan to somehow confront this tricky dream demon. Wukong doesn't want the fun dreams to end or scare off this other celestial monkey, so he decides to talk to his friend in his dreams. Wukong casually brings up the idea that the macaque should visit Flower Fruit and meet his sworn brothers! Macaque of course hesitates, not sure of the idea of traveling to an unknown island and meeting The Monkey King's questionable choice of sworn brothers, but of course, Wukong, sad and a bit offended, but he doesn't give up.

He decides to bring upon the Ultimate Weapon, begging and whining until Macaque crumbles and gives in, which eventually does. Mac reluctantly agrees to travel over to FFM in disguise, just to be safe he tells Wukong he'll be there. Within a month, Wukong couldn't be more excited; he was like a little kid waiting for Christmas day!

So this is what kinds of powers I think he should have.

😴 the first pic is crossing over to other people's dreams and making their experience life-like he has illusion magic so this makes sense to me. Wukong and macaque would prank the Brotherhood or play tags and hide and seek in their brother's dreams. 🌸The second pic is the soothing ability to calm one's nerves if they pet or cuddle him like a therapy cat,🐈 Wukong would groom him for hours to calm his nerves. now come copes with food🍑🍔🍭

🌸🎶I saved the best one for last the cute/sad little head Cannon I have

At the end of every dream Mac visits they would end it by dancing to music Mac would bring from the future laughing and stumbling while wukong slowly wakes up, wukong has always gone to bed early But now he goes even earlier to bed. Wukong always thought he was the luckiest monkey in the world he gets to have two Adventure and one of them is with his prettiest best friend Macaque 😚✨the monkey of his dreams.

🌸 Wukong couldn't truly dream of a world without his bestest friend🥰✨

[myouicieloz]

Mystery of Love

Hirai Momo x Member!reader

Synopsis: the group’s comeback is approaching. There’s a full day of shootings waiting ahead of you. You should rest, but you can’t sleep.

Warnings: hurt/comfort. reader talks about her feelings.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: I AM STILL HERE ! not my best, but still ^^

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6

—

Sometimes your thoughts were so loud inside your head you were sure everyone could hear them too. 

They were constant reminders of how everything was wrong in your life. The way you dealt with your loved ones, your daily routine, the way your brain worked, the words you chose to use in a conversation… everything was just deeply wrong. It was a constant reminder of how much you managed to mess up by just existing.

You could feel the familiar feeling starting to cripple your skin, followed by a million needles poking you at the same time. Yet, you knew that no matter how much you scrubbed, scratched, and hurt yourself, such feelings would never disappear. 

Said knowledge doesn’t keep you from running your nails all over your arms and abdomen, of course. At least the burning sensation was a vivid reminder that you was still hanging on. You were still alive; in Seoul, at the dorms, existing. You were not a ghost, and there was still hope. 

Like a mantra, you whispered the words in the dark, running your hands through your face to calm yourself down. The pressure worked, but that uneasy feeling still lingered, guilt-tripping your guts.

It’s been nearly six months since the episode, shouldn’t you feel any better already? You’ve been following your diet religiously, attending therapy twice a week, and working on reaching out whenever you felt one of your crises coming up— yet it seemed like it was all in vain. Despite all of your efforts, you still felt so wrong. 

How scary is it, to know that the anxiety was carved deep in your bones as part of who you were? 

Terrifying, indeed. 

You’ve done a great job convincing the girls of your progress, reassuring them there was no need to push their first comeback of the year. You told them it was fine to attend photoshoots, rehearsals, mv shootings, and go through promotions without fuss. 

Which was the truth, in a way. The staff were always kind and understanding to you, kind as they encouraged you to take short breaks after every hour or so. You felt seen, along with the strength and protection your unnies provided.

However, going to any pre-recorded events was still something scary. Especially one as important as Music Bank, where Onces would be ogling you with such attentive eyes. Not judging, naturally, but staring with their eyes full of hope… you couldn’t disappoint them, either. Not your fans, who loved you unconditionally, and your sisters, who have been nothing but patient and protective throughout these last months. They’ve done so much for you, who had nothing to give in return. 

Naturally, the girls would understand if you chose to be absent. They’ve told you so repeatedly, reassuring situation is completely understandable and that it’s incredible that you’re even participating in the comeback, but you know how much it hurts them to not be complete as a group. Without you, something is missing, even if it’s hard to understand what you could possibly add to these women, who already have everything. 

Joining them in their comeback was an honor, and you wouldn’t skip it for anything in the world. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to have your unnies happy. 

The van will pick you up in the morning, so they’re all currently resting. And you’re exhausted— crushingly so, which is an easy thing to notice with no more than a quick look. Your new sleeping pills did not make the bags under your eyes go away, and you’re still bony, a shallow of the smiley, reserved maknae you once were.

Once again, your breaths grow rapidly, the pitch-black ceiling getting smaller with each passing minute, shrinking enough to trap your body inside the walls of your bedroom. You try to control your breathing by taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, just like your unnies usually do. Your apartment is too high up to hear the whistle of the trees or the noise of crickets, but somehow the stars in quiet night are enough. Those same stars, shining so bright in the late hours, remind you so much of the girls whom you share a home and a life with— your most loved ones, your soulmates. Let us in, Y/n, please. Let us help. they begged you, so loud in their silence. It pained them to give you space, as you’re well aware. If they could, they’d just wrap you up in a bubble and protect you from any sorrows. 

If only they could. 

You’re not alone. You don’t have to struggle by yourself. You can come to us.

With that in mind, you drop your covers and leave your bedroom, walking to the corridor in quiet, unhurried steps. It’s only once you reach the third room on the left that your long, delicate fingers brush the door, with barely any force. It opens easily, thanks to their no-locking policy, and you observe the room for a moment before settling in. 

Momo and Nayeon share a bedroom, just like old times. The room is vast— big enough for two queen-sized beds, and visibly messy. Clothes hang everywhere, either on the ground or left in a pile in some of the open drawers. You squint your eyes to adjust yourself to the darkness and notices the nail supplies cluttered on their tea table. Letters, legos, stuffed animals… so many objects that make you nearly lose balance many times, as you make your way to a pitch-black dot lost amidst the thick covers of Momo’s fluffy bed. 

You don’t mind, though. If anything, you find yourself giggling quietly, amused by how the pair had turned the bland room into a home within a few weeks. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the members to accustomed to living together once again. It had been years since they’d decided to live apart, but your episode had made them make the decision almost immediately. You needed them, so they’d be there for you 24/7, guarding and offering their best support. Sure, your new apartment was much more luxurious and spacious than any of their old dorms, but it was just as cozy and filled with love. 

And you needed that. You didn’t think so, naturally— fiercely advocating against their decision, terrified of making your bandmates change their lifestyle because of yourself, but they gave you no choice. In fact, you felt much like a baby as they moved things over and over, sitting down on the big couch while they did all the boring and hard work. 

It was nice to have the house noisy again, you noted. After so many years of living by yourself, you discovered you liked a little bit of chaos, especially those that came from your loved ones. You needed that. Once again, your unnies proved that they knew you best. 

You moved carefully to not wake Momo up, even though the dancer sleeps like a rock. Lifting the covers, you lowered your body until you were lying down in your unnie’s bed, staring at the older woman’s soft features. 

Momo was perfect in every way, and she was so _strong_, too. Not only with her toned muscles, she was a true pillar, taking care of her members so subtly they barely noticed. They were all drawn to her when things got rough. With her sleepish smile and round eyes, her easy laugh was like a beacon on a heavy storm. Talking to her was not only easy, it felt so freeing. You would always forget about your troubles for a few minutes, whenever they were together.

Without even noticing, your eyes start to water—you were so loved, and what for? What have you done to deserve such a honorable feeling? It’s hard to suppress your hiccups as tears start to water Momo’s pillow. Then, almost instinctively, Momo’s arms are around you, holding and bringing you closer until your noses are nearly touching. 

You focus on Momo’s eyes, which are still only half-open, and on the sounds she makes, purring as she tries to shake the sleep from her body so she can stay awake. Her hand goes to your hair immediately, fingers running through your scalp in circles. The delicate movements of Momo’s fingers differ from your usual clumsiness, but it’s so soothing that you calm down immediately.

“Can’t sleep, baby?” You shake your head at the sound of her raspy voice, with trembling lips. Momo knows the crying will soon get worse if she doesn’t do anything, so she holds you closer, her grip extra strong, “No no, don’t cry. It’s okay, you’re okay… we’ll help you.”

It’s a routine you’re used to, by now. At first, it made Momo nervous to see you in such agony, sobbing so hard you choked over nothing, desperate for air. Then, Mina explained to her that it was a way of releasing the heavy feelings you kept bottled up for so long, which put Momo’s nerves a little bit at ease. Still, it broke her heart to see you hurting. Her sweet little maknae, who’s always been so, graceful, and quiet…

Yet, Momo couldn’t do anything to take all this pain from your chest. She’d take it all in a blink, were that possible. She’d take all of your sorrows and keep them to herself. 

Instead, Momo brushes the wet strands of your hair away from your face, greeting you with a sleepy smile. “Hello, baby girl. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

Your nod is so subtle Momo finds herself brushing her eyes, wondering if she’d imagined it. There’s a big pause, and the dancer starts to drool as she fights sleep to listen. 

“I…” You speak, and it’s like you’re a trainee all over again: small and anxious and so filled with doubts all you want to do is curl up and disappear forever. You gulp hard to suppress another sob. “I c-an’t do it, unnie. Music bank, tomorrow. I can’t. It’s just, there will be so many people and so many cameras and the fans don’t  know I’m weak, and if I fuck the group’s image once again we’ll never be invited to anything ever and it’s going to be all my fucking faul—" 

You bury your head in Momo’s chest, unable to look at the dancer as you open up your fresh wounds. It hurts to know the amount of hate and backlash they group has gotten because of your scandal. You still didn’t even know who leaked your hospital chart, but JYP did a good work of putting it all under the carpet. And to make all of the denying real, you had to look put together to the public. 

You don’t remember the last time you looked like anything but a crystal piece of art, full of cracks and ready to shatter into a million pieces. 

Lithe fingers touch your skin once again, moving without rush to not startle or overwhelm you. Momo knows what you need: her presence alone is already so comforting. You get a glimpse of her short, black nails as the older girl runs them over your arms, then your torso. 

“Do you want to try mirroring my breathing, baby? You always do it so well.” She asks and you nod immediately. With your face against Momo’s chest, you follow the rhythm of your unnie’s heartbeats, focusing on that alone. “That’s it, dear. Good Job.” 

Everything is suddenly pitch black: there’s only Momo’s loving embrace and the way your bodies are naturally tangled, so close to each other that two become one and your sorrows slowly dissipate amidst the warmth. Love does heal, you’re proof of that. You know so because, even if your progress isn’t nearly as you’d envisioned it, it’s still there. You’re slowly working to recovery, no matter how much your stubborn self denies it. And it’s much due to their help: your bandmates, your loves.

Momo’s thumbs brush your cheeks, washing your tears away as the minutes turn your crying into faint sniffles. “You’ve been so brave, Y/n. I’m serious. All the effort you’ve been pouring into our new comeback… it’s impressive. But please, please know you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel ready to do. We can wait, baby.”

And you knows they won’t pressure you by any means. Although sometimes, you wish they did. 

“I know, it’s just…” You sigh, untangling yourself from Momo so you can press your elbows onto the bed and run your hands all over your face, huffing with frustration. “I want to do it, unnie. I really do. I just don’t want to break in front of everyone and destroy our group’s image.” 

I don’t want to disappoint you again.

That’s what it was. Frustrating and tiring, to feel so unsure over something you’ve done a thousand times before.

“Y/n, look at me.” The dancer’s tone is imposing, so commanding you have no choice but to oblige immediately. “You’re the strongest person I know, and I admire you so much. We see you trying every day, baby, and it’s where we find our strength, too,” She adds, just as quietly, “On seeing you try. It makes me— makes us try to be better every day, too. For you. We love you, so much. And if it’s what you want to do, we’ll be with you every second of it.” 

How could you inspire them? It doesn’t seem possible. Not when you’re so weak, vulnerable and a complete mess. Your unnies are all so graceful and certainly much better at everything they do. You don’t understand Momo’s words, but it’s late, and you’re too tired to ask. So you simply nod, trying hard not to pout. 

It’s a different kind of sadness, one of not being able to give what your unnies so desperately want. The hopelessness is carved so deep in your bones you can’t do anything but sigh, shuffle, and turn until you’re staring at the ceiling and your hands are hidden under the covers, so Momo doesn’t notice how much they tremble.

“You can’t give me what I need.” You can’t fix what’s broken inside. You want to scream. I think I can’t, either.

“I can’t. I’m sorry for that.” She stops, staring down at you. Her dark orbs are filled with nothing but the purest form of love as she kisses your forehead and whispers, because it’s just the two of you together and the night is quiet, ever so private. “But I can love you.”

Those same loving arms evolve you again, and no more words are spoken. You don’t need to say anything else— no words suffice, not in any language. For now, Momo and you grow content falling asleep together, soothed by each other’s breathing and the promise of taking one step at a time. 

In Momo’s arms, you feel safe, respected, and loved. You fall asleep thinking you might be able to go through all of this, as long as you’re together.

[elvenbeard]

Old and Happy

😭 my feels have been all over the place since I finally finished this! Don't even remember when I started, as I kept working on and off on it over a couple of months. But I think it was after writing something particularly angsty and going "you know what, they will get their happy ending though, so it's all good".

Some details and thoughts below the read more cause it got long hhhh ;A;

This is in about 2087 maybe, roughly "ten years later". Vince changed his hair, ditched the rattail for good (or again xD) for something still colorful but a bit more easy to style. But he might change it up again, he's done so repeatedly and still likes to experiment with his hair.

Not visible, he probably would've added some elements to his back tattoo after surviving all of 2077. Johnny's tattoo he covered up as well, he would've done that first probably before the back piece. Adding some things here and there over time, with colors and patterns and wings, some cherry blossoms ('cause a thing of beauty will never truly fade away - hence just not getting laser removal but covering it with something that suits him more, but keeping some elements like the J and V visible). It started with three roses below the "V" as a little homage to Jackie, and 2077 as the year that finally put him on the right track in his life, even if it almost killed him in the process.

Overall he is a healthier weight than he was for most of his life, and finally got some therapy he desperately needed to deal with all the crap he went through pre-2077 already. He's not dyeing his first grey hairs because hell, that he's even still around to get some is amazing with his line of work and life story. And he realized that there's no need to be super well put togeher 24/7, clean shaven and whatnot, when you know you're just gonna be hanging out with your man and cat all weekend (and actually allowing yourself to something like that - leisure time and pizza in bed, unheard of to 2077!Vince). He's doing good and feels good and comfortable, physically and mentally.

Kerry also changed, also embracing the dad bod over abs, probably still experimenting with his looks a lot now and then whenever the label feels like they need to draw attention to him for whatever reason. But to the brown eyes he returned in 2078 already in my headcanon for the Sun ending timeline, and he stuck with them.

Overall I think he might finally care a little less about other people's opinions too, the buzz and the drama, cause he knows that at the end of the day there's always gonna be someone waiting for him at home who loves him unconditionally. He's a bit calmer and at ease, but of course still up to no good whenever he gets the chance to stir shit up xD Vince and him remain to be a dangerous duo you don't wanna mess with. At that point Vince is a well-respected, even if somewhat elusive, fixer, so he's probably even more dangerous now than he used to be as a mere merc with an arsenal of connections and resources at his disposal that can almost rival Kerry's.

I also gave Kerry a lil new cyberware piece on his hand - he is an old man and I think, using his hands as a musician on the daily, at some point there's just gonna be some wear and tear to your bones and joints only tech can fix anymore... Especially if you're stubborn and refuse to retire cause no, you're not done yet, you still have so much to yell into the world and music to make, stuff to add to your legacy and all.

Last but not least: Nibbles is an old lady already as well here, but living her best life with her dads spoiling her rotten, of course!

And then öalkshjdfagsdföasgdfaösfh ;___;

Y'know, "to bad decisions" and all, and two very different pieces still fitting together perfectly somehow, and light and shadows, and the sun and moon and yeah. ;___; Brb crying, the feels are back xD

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far!! They mean so much to me and aösdjhfajsfhasfk could go on forever about every little detail xD On to the next drawing!

[2hoothoots]

(photographer voice) "okay, now let's do one where canon events play out slightly differently and everyone ends up in a significantly worse place because of it"

here's an au of an au because i have issues watched the genghis khan music video one too many times. lore dump + crops/bonus art below

Due to an unfortunate combination of chance factors, Razputin Aquato arrives at Whispering Rock one day late.

He finds the camp a ghost town. The campers are stumbling around, brainless; the counsellors, nowhere to be found. Ford doesn’t know what to make of this kid showing up out of nowhere – but he’s got promise, and with Sasha and Milla out of action, he’s their best hope. He gives Raz a crash course in what he needs to know, and sends him out across the lake.

Raz pulls through, against all odds. But he never gets the starstruck meeting with his heroes Sasha and Milla that he’d been hoping for; never gets to bond with Lili, or any of the other campers. It’s a harrowing and lonely experience for him, but one that ties a burning knot of resolve in his chest. If he works hard, he can be a Psychonaut just like he dreamed. He can save people.

When the alert comes through from Headquarters that Grand Head Zanotto has been captured, Sasha and Milla scramble the jet with Lili on board. They don’t bring Raz along – Ford’s account of his accomplishments is impressive, but without seeing him in action themselves, neither agent is convinced to bring him along on the mission. Sasha invites him to next year’s session of the camp – after all, he clearly has promise, and the Psychonauts are always interested in nurturing young minds.

Raz returns to camp next year with something to prove. He throws himself into his studies with a single-minded dedication, sparing little time to interact with any of the other campers. This time, he’ll show them. He’ll show them all.

Sasha, Milla and Lili are unable to locate Truman in the Rhombus of Ruin. It ultimately takes a week to locate the Grand Head, following an anonymous tip-off (later found to have been planted by Nick). It takes six months for the ruse to be uncovered. Ultimately, Nick is unsuccessful in finding any clues to Maligula’s whereabouts. Lucrecia will pass a few years later, surrounded by a family that has no idea who she really is. Ford never remembers the truth, and when Razputin is fourteen, he takes the secret to his grave.

Truman’s brain spends almost seven months in a box, under poor conditions with insufficient oxygen. When it’s finally returned to his body, he’s not the same man he used to be. He quietly steps down as Grand Head of the organisation, and spends years of his retirement in intensive therapy.

Lili is heartbroken. Her faith in the Psychonauts is shattered. She never returns to Whispering Rock again. Over the years, she becomes more and more withdrawn; isolated from her peers, estranged from her mother, and struggling with her relationship with a father who on bad days can’t even remember her name. The bitterness grows day by day, blooming within her chest.

She’s sixteen the first time she's forced to turn her powers against another person. Even in his current state, her father has enemies – old foes the Psychonauts can’t (or won’t) protect him from. There’s a raid on her house, late at night. It’s only by chance that she’s still awake. She breaks two of the assailants’ bodies, and when she twists her hand, the plants in her father's greenhouse writhe under her command and rip the third one to pieces. It’s the last time that house ever feels like a home to her. She cuts ties with the Psychonauts entirely, and never looks back; the next time they hear of her, it's under a completely different name.

Dogen Boole never returns to Whispering Rock either. He’s thoroughly traumatized by the events at camp, and his parents refuse to send him back the following year. With nobody to help him learn to control or harness his powers, his episodes steadily become worse as he gets older. Although reluctant, his family is eventually forced to reach out to the Psychonauts to help. Compton is still a nervous recluse, and nobody else in the organisation is quite sure how to handle Dogen’s powers. He spends his teenage years in and out of psychoisolation, and is subjected to more and more intense experimentation in the name of “treatment”. Nothing works. In the end, all he has to show for it are the scars.

His helmet is the only thing he can rely on to stop him mulching the cranium of anyone in a fifty-foot radius. There’s no place for him in “normal” society. Just like Lili, he’s driven to become a villain by a combination of circumstances, trauma, and a bitter feeling of hurt and betrayal towards the Psychonauts.

Raz enters the intern program at thirteen, and quickly graduates to the rank of Junior Agent. The Psychonauts he finds waiting for him is undergoing a marked transition from the organization it used to be. Upon Ford’s passing, the only member of the old guard still around is Otto. Hollis is a Grand Head forced to prioritize efficiency in order to keep the Psychonauts afloat after numerous losses and funding cuts.

Raz enters a passionate, determined boy, remarkably talented but who struggles to connect with his peers. When he gets his promotion at eighteen, he’s the most decorated junior agent the organization has ever seen. At twenty-six, he’s in the prime of his career, honed by years of training into an efficient, meticulous, ruthless Psychonaut.

He’s the perfect agent. As far as he’s concerned, that’s all he needs to be.

under-the-cut bonus, here's some tighter crops on the art, and also a couple extra bits and pieces:

dogen's helmet seals up like a pillbug most of the time, to stop his powers from leaking out when he gets stressed. i couldn't find a way to work it into the art while still making clear that Hey It's Ya Boy, but i think it's a neat visual. the extra pic of lili was gonna be a mugshot - at first i was planning to composit her art into, like, a dossier/file, but i couldn't make it work in the end

[i-care-4u]

more central cee pls !

FACE TO FACE | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

TAGGED: @playboykenz

A/N: to the two anons that asked for more central cee, i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote!

FACE TO FACE SERIES: jack harlow | central cee

-

as the cameras were getting ready, oakley couldn’t help but to giggle about the fact that his girlfriend was going to interview him.

this was something you loved doing with oakley at home. coming from work, you and oakley would be having long nights together, answering and giggling about each other’s answers. this time, the public was going to watch this, and oakley felt comfortable sharing his answers to them.

you introduced yourself to everyone, “hello gq, i’m y/n l/n, and today i’ll be asking a set of questions to central cee.”

in front of you, there was a laptop, with oakley being in front of your screen. you start the call, “hi cench.”

oakley blushed, “hi y/n.”

“today we get to share to everyone what we do at home,” you show the cameras the set of cards filled with questions, “the couple’s quiz!”

-

☆ FIRST QUESTION - “HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN THREE WORDS?”

“three words,” oakley starts saying words that came in mind, “focused, candid….”

you nod, using this as a sign to keep going. “come on, one more, one more!”

oakley immediately went back to thinking mode. you lay your head down, trying not to burst into laughter. you raised your head afterwards, “you want me to help you out?”

“of course,” oakley said, with a charming smile at you.

“cee.”

“yes?”

with a straight face, you admit, “i think you’re very cute.”

“focused, candid, and cute it is.”

☆ SECOND QUESTION - “FIVE ESSENTIALS?”

for this question, the staff brought in the items, and oakley removes his chain in order to showcase it to everyone. “obviously, we have to go with this one first.”

you tried not to brag, but you let it slide since you’re his girlfriend, “picked by the best.”

oakley nods in agreement, “mhm.”

he then showcased the watch on his wrist, “another one picked by y/n, and it’s this watch.”

he then explains three other objects: headphones, crackers, and a book.

“i have two headphones - one i use for the gym and the other during my spare time,” oakley pulled a bag of crackers close to the camera, “these crackers were gifted by my mum in christmas, they’re so delicious.”

he smiled as he showed everyone a book. the book was very special to him, as it was another gift - this time it was from you to him. “this book is gifted by y/n, and i love to carry it on the road. i still remember those words, telling me it’s a reminder of love.”

“it’s like you’re carrying a piece of me, you know?”

☆ THIRD QUESTION - “WHAT’S THE MOST ROMANTIC THING YOU’VE EVER DONE?”

sarcastically, oakley answered, “i’m a hopeless romantic…”

you jokingly glared at him, “really?”

“i don’t know man, i’m transitioning, i’m changing. this is all hard for me like i’m trying to think-”

“boo hoo,” you mocked, “it was so hard for you. why don’t you just grow up?”

oakley admits, “it’s easier said than done.”

☆ FOURTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR SELF CARE ROUTINE?”

oakley repeated the question, “my self care routine?”

you looked down at the card, “yes.”

“my self care routine consists of sleeping, waking up to do my skin care, going to the studio,” oakley gets into detail, “people don’t tend add that, but music is a form of self care. it’s enjoyable and arguably, a form of therapy.”

“i can see where you’re coming from, and i agree,” you comment, “music is universal.”

☆ FIFTH QUESTION - “FAVORITE LYRIC?”

oakley shrugs, “god knows.”

“i don’t know that one.”

“do you swear on the shore?” oakley asked you.

“yeah,” you nod, “shit.”

he laughs, and you added, “crumbs.”

oakley continued laughing at your nonsense, “what?”

you lied, “i swear all the time, okay?”

oakley knew it wasn’t true at all, leaving it with a simple response. “okay,” he shook his head, “it’s not that attractive though is it?”

as a joke, you tried to impress your boyfriend, slamming your hands on the table. “okay, i don’t swear!”

☆ SIXTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE RED CARPET LOOK FROM ME?”

oakley leaned on the chair. “ooh, this is a tough one. am i allowed to say my favorite runway look?”

“nope.”

“just red carpet.”

“yes.” you got close to the webcam, and the only thing that showed up on oakley’s screen was your eyes and forehead. “…say it!”

he picked his top five looks of yours, “as of right now, i would have to go with your mtv video music awards from 2022, the met gala look from 2022, and last year and this year’s grammys look.

“and you got to thank law roach for the styling.” you start giving him a round of applause.

☆ SEVENTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY ENCOUNTER?”

oakley recounts, “apologies y/n, but i got to tell the funny one.”

you blankly stare at him, “the one where we met drake?”

“yes,” oakley smirked. he starts telling the story behind it, “so we went to this festival, and drake decided to invite us to the after party. during the party, he was on his phone scrolling on instagram, and that’s when he showed me a picture of y/n. he was like, who is this, she’s so pretty? that’s when i answered him, saying that it was y/n, who was right there. she didn’t say anything, but rather laughed about the whole situation.”

you add, “he was definitely drunk there, and he was surprised by my appearance at the party afterwards.”

☆ EIGTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S SOMETHING ABOUT ME THAT PEOPLE DON’T KNOW?”

“i think people should pay attention to what i’m about to say,” oakley exposes your hobby, “but y/n loves gardening.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, believing that it’s not that big of deal as he makes. “why are you making it such a big deal? leave me and my plants out of this!”

“i find it very cute though,” oakley visualizes, “walking outside to see you watering your plants. i can name some from the top of my head.”

you crossed your arms, having a smug look. “oh really?” you scoffed.

“yeah.”

oakley starts listing names of your plants, causing you to be left with a speechless face that was soon filled with laughter.

reflecting at this question, you also found it cute that oakley remembered your not-so-secret hobby of gardening. the way he remembered the names of your plants indicated his love language.

☆ NINTH QUESTION - “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE ME FOR A DAY?”

“what would y/n do?” oakley asked himself as you listened.

as soon as he came up with the idea, he shared it in front of everyone, “if i were you for a day, i think i would head down to the studio and try to make music.”

“smart,” you recall, “i’ve always wanted to make music for a long time, but i think we’re good as a model for now.”

“new date idea,” oakley states, “make music with y/n.”

“that sounds lovely.”

☆ TENTH QUESTION - “WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO EVERYONE RIGHT NOW?”

“this one’s a bit cliche but my thing is live yours,” oakley said, “that’s what’s inspiring innit.”

you agree to his piece of advice, “so basically express yourself?”

“correct.”

-

the tenth questioned marked the end of the interview and was left with one more scene to record.

the cameras starts recording oakley, “if you want to see me ask y/n these questions face to face, go to vogue.com.”

“thank you to gq for being involved in this conversation between central cee and i. thank you for watching!” you waved to the camera. the video cues to a white screen, placing the names of the people involved.

after the interview, oakley waited for you to exit the studio. when you saw him, you gave him a tight hug. “you were amazing!”

“thank you!” oakley smiled, “you know what sounds more amazing? bringing you to the studio right now.”

“you and your bad flirting skills,” you sarcastically rolled your eyes at him, “but a studio date sounds nice right now.”

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.2. PLANTS.

“there’s a blue light, in my best friend’s room. there’s a blue light in his eyes.” “he sits in the waiting room. each chair has its own arms. they’re nimble and plastic, and the material of the cushions is a scratchy green. they’re the type you would find in a conference room, and he can’t decide if he likes them or not. he feels too big for the small room, but he likes the song he can hear playing from a small speaker. it took him a little bit to find it, and he constantly turned his head, trying to find where he could hear it the loudest. “there’s a ship that sails by my window.” there. he sees it on the little oak ladder shelf to his right. it’s a small white circle, and he wouldn’t have thought it to be a speaker if not for the grated cover on the front and the soft music it was playing: “i think it’s sailing. miles crashing me by. crashing me by.”

content warnings: mention of a scar (nothing about where it came from, i was thinking a bicycle accident before i decided to leave it up to interpretation), mention of "promising to stay alive", it's a therapy session so it's a free for all. lmk if i missed anything

he’s not sure he’s in the right place. maybe he missed a sign on his way in that'd tell him where to go or who he was seeing, but he'd wandered down a hall and ended up in a waiting room that had felt right initially. but now he’s wondering; he’s the only one in this tiny room, and he hasn’t seen anyone pass by. it’s silent, besides the small hum of music.

then he hears two muffled voices of laughter come from the wall behind him, and the shuffle of footsteps nearing the door to his left. he’ll find out where he is soon enough, he supposes.

the door knob clicks and creaks, automatically grabbing his attention as he looks toward the source of the noise. a girl who appears to be in her late teens or early adulthood walks out first, whom he’s never seen in his life, but he recognizes the second girl that walks out.

of course he does, how could he not?

he saw her nearly if not everyday of his life when they were kids, all the way up until their first year in high school, where gradually he started to see her less and less until he never saw her. she disappeared from the school halls and the streets they used to walk down together. he knew she was still there, somewhere, but he could never find her. they’re both frozen now, staring at each other. whoever walked out before her seems to get the message and bows slightly before taking her leave.

he’s not even sure what to say. the first words that come to mind are ‘i’m sorry.’

for what? leaving her? watching her leave and not stopping her? the next thing that comes to mind is ‘what even happened between us? i missed you.’ 

of course he fucking missed her, although it feels like he's just now fully realizing it. she had been nearly as important to him as volleyball, and it had been nice to have something in his life not connected to the sport. he loved the sport, he truly did, and it was his biggest priority when he was younger, but now he was starting to feel that passion wane, as much as he hated to admit it. if he hoped to get anything out of talking about this problem with someone, it was that he’d be able to enjoy the sport again. and maybe it’d be like old times. maybe she would be the center of gravity he revolved around again, being the anchor that keeps him upright even when times got rough. 

she felt sick, seeing him again. she had been wishing to see him again for so long, and yet apparently, in reality, she wasn’t ready to see him again. her thoughts immediately went to her appearance, and how she had looked and acted, seeing off her last client. and, most importantly, why was he here? why was she seeing him here of all places?

then it clicks. atsumu's "friend."

of course.

of course he would pull something like this.

her brain immediately goes on autopilot, because she can’t stand there all day gawking at the man who hasn’t ever left her mind. not since she first met him. not since they stopped talking to each other. not even nine years later, after the night she cried alone in her bed when she finally accepted the truth that he didn't care about her, and she’d never see him again. “om– sakusa. hi. good to see you. why don’t you come in?”

she retreats back into her office, quickly setting a pillow back up on the nearby couch in a futile attempt to tidy up the room before she retreats to her own seat.

he follow her in without a word, eyes taking in the interior of her room. he likes it more than the waiting room. there’s a wide window taking up most of the wall in front of him, displaying the sight of a more rural side of osaka. it took a train ride and a bit of a walk to get here, but seeing this view, he decides maybe it was worth it. maybe more walks in open spaces was actually all he needed to feel better.

or maybe all he needed was her presence.

she sits in a chair across from the one he’s in. there’s a small glass coffee table between them with a group of small succulents centered atop it and the decoration surprises him. for as long as he's known her, she always somehow managed to kill every bunch of flowers he gave her within a few days. his grandma would buy him a small bouquet after some of his volleyball games when he was younger and he never wanted them. he'd give them to her instead because she loved plants, despite never being able to keep them alive.

but it’s obvious from the number of pots lining her windowsill that she’s changed. he wants to bring it up, but he’s not sure what she would think. he doesn’t even know what she’s thinking about now.

it’s silent between them. the tension is suffocating. he’s not looking at her, but she can’t tear her eyes away from him. she’s never thought about how she’s grown, but looking at him now, it feels strange; like there’s a younger version of herself inside of her that can still see right through the man across from her, into the kid in him. but they’ve both matured, both locked that childish wonder behind many walls in their hearts now.

she hasn’t seen him since their first year in high school. of course, she's seen his face in print and on screens, but it was much different in person. compared to the image her eyes would always remember, of a boy with brighter eyes, filled with aspiration, always looking towards the future, the edges of his lips curved ever so slightly into a confident smile whenever he had his mask off–now he just looked tired. he had the same hooded eyes as always, yet they looked duller, and perhaps there were darker bags under them. his lips were permanently pressed into a thin line, with no traces of a smile anywhere. his frame was larger from years of hard work, yet he was downplaying it with his posture, shoulders curved and head held grim and low. his hands were long, but worn and calloused, and his legs were restless, nothing like the calm and still body that she used to stand side by side with.

“so,” she breaks the silence, knowing they’ll have to talk eventually. she’s playing with her own fingers nervously, feeling like the break of silence is a crime. she's not ready to talk to him, but maybe if she remains passive and neutral towards him, he’ll act the same way back, and they won’t have to think about how much they really know about each other–that she could still tell him exactly how many moles line his arms, and he could tell her about the scar on her upper thigh. “you made an appointment with me?”

“did you know it was me? you agreed to see me even though you knew it was me?” they’re the first words he’s said to her in years and they come out words brashfully, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth before he can even process what he’s just said.

her eyes are soft, while his are sharper and bolder. the way they droop gives her a safe, welcoming appearance as if promising that she can keep a secret, that she will listen without judging, and that he'll feel better after he talks to her. but her brows furrow in hurt, and he sees the glassy look in her eyes after his words. “i didn’t know it was you. i see atsumu all the time and he asked if i’d be willing to see one of his friends and i said of course. he said 'his friend' was on the fence about therapy so we just agreed that if he–you–wanted to see me more, we could figure that out later. i had no idea who you were–and even if i knew i did, is there something wrong with that? did i do something wrong?–” she clamps her lips shut, realizing she's said too much. she lets out a quiet sigh to restart before smoothing the fabric of her pants, “i’m sorry. that’s unprofessional of me. forget i said that last part. but i mean– did he not tell you who you were seeing? he just told you to show up here?”

he doesn’t like her being professional. he misses her smile. not the one she gave to the client she saw out before she told him to follow her in; the one that she would give him when they were together and he said something she found amusing. he doesn’t like what he said to her, and he digs his nails into his palms, regretting how this meeting has turned so sour, all because of him. “no. he didn’t,” he says, and he realizes his voice is still cold. he should add something else: “but there’s nothing wrong with that. it’s good to see you.”

he means what he says, but her frown remains, and she looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. she doesn't say anything in response, instead pulling her laptop from a nearby table onto her lap. “okay. well, you came here for a reason. what’s been going on? you can start from as far back as you want. this first meeting will serve as an introduction to both of us, so that you can get a feel for how i do things and so that i can understand what you’re going through, and how i can best help you.”

she’s cutting off any chance they have to look at each other as friends anymore, and he hates that, but there’s no way out of this spot she’s cornered him into, so he does what she asks. he tells her of the day he was benched, and how it's affected him ever since, leading to thought spirals and feelings that have been building up every day, which he's been choosing to shove down instead of getting out. 

“would you consider writing down your thoughts, then? either in a notes app or with actual pen and paper, either one works. but the action serves as a way to clear your mind. you can do it whenever you’d like, whether that be when you first wake up, at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the day. the point is to write down any thoughts you have that are stressing you out, like all the things you feel that you need to get done. you write them down so that you're able to take those thoughts out of your mind and put them somewhere instead of letting them stay stuck in there forever, bothering you and weighing you down even long after you’ve forgotten what it is you’re stressing about.”

she suggests things and reiterates some of the points he makes ever so often. the way she takes a backseat in the conversation, letting him do most of the thinking and talking, makes it easy for him to pretend he hasn’t known her for years, but he doesn’t want to think of her that way. he finds himself looking around her room as she talks, taking in all the small details. maybe on the train ride home, he'll take into consideration what she's just suggested and write down what he thinks of her office. 

her place is warm and inviting, and the more he looks at it, the more he thinks that it’s so her. from the mute, natural colors of the furniture that she’s meticulously picked out, the way she’s neatly organized a stack of papers on a desk nearby, along the same wall as the window to his side looking out to a verdant landscape– he even thinks about the books he saw on the shelf outside in her waiting room. he had recognized some of those books, and yet he hadn’t pieced together why he had such a nostalgic, longing, feeling in his chest. 

it was because it was her. 

perhaps the plants are what threw him off. the plants. again with the plants. he thinks about the daisies planted outside her house, that he passed every time he visited. he remembers seeing her mother out there, using a hose to water their flowers while she sat on the porch, waiting for him. she would complain to him about the fact that her mother wouldn’t let her help with the garden work, because of her “cursed black thumb” and the way her mother scolded her, hearing her daughter complain about her while she could still hear her.

she’s giving him the chance to pretend that they’re nothing more than a therapist and a client meeting for the first time, but he wants to decline the offer. he wants to ask her about what’s going on in her life, and he thinks maybe that would help with his own struggles, too; if he could hear about what she’s been doing with her life. he thinks it would help to go out for late dinners with her again, spend nights over at each other’s places again, and to just talk to her normally again. seeing her face once more after so long, he can’t look away. being in her presence now, sitting in a room filled with her heart, he feels a weight lift from the back of his head that he hasn’t been able to get rid of for so long. maybe she’s what he’s been missing this whole time.

his roommates know him well, atsumu knows him best, but none of them compare to her. nothing compares to the memories flowing through his head, of the late nights they spent out by the fire pit in her backyard, of nights spent in each other’s rooms, laughing and sharing stories, of the time her mother pulled out a foldable, stiff, scratchy bed stand for him to sleep on at their first sleepover when her mother wasn’t yet sure of him. he had tossed and turned around restlessly on that bedstand. when she asked him what was wrong, he told her he was homesick, and she let him sleep with her in her bed. nothing compared to the conversations they had late on his bedroom floor, where she slept beside him when it had become too weird for them to sleep in the same bed. nothing compared to the promises to stay together or to stay alive. and yet he’d broken that first promise.

he was telling her now about everything that was going on in his life, every thought he was having, but he wanted to just stop and say, “you already know this, don’t you?” because they were the same thoughts that had plagued him for years. the obsessions and compulsions that bothered him at all times, the strangling feeling in his chest–she’d heard all of this before.

but that silver laptop on her lap seems to be a wall between them, preventing them from being close like they were before. she keeps typing away, nodding, flicking her eyes up to meet his ever so often, but never too long for him to be able to read anything about them.

the time goes by faster than he thinks, and an hour has passed before he knows it. he wouldn’t have noticed if they had gone on for even longer than an hour, but she cuts them short when she puts that cursed computer to the side and straightens out her legs, “well, i would be open to meeting with you more, sakusa. everything you've told me today sounds like a lot, and i think it would be beneficial for you to have some extra support while balancing such a taxing career, but it’s your decision. the way i work, the first meeting is always free since it's just a warmup. if you want to see me again, your insurance should cover the majority of the cost. i’ll write down my email for you so that you contact me if you’d like to make another appointment and then i’ll walk you out.” she gets straight to the point, standing up and finding a stray sticky note to scribble something down on before walking towards the door like she’s eager to have him out of her space.

there’s so much he wants to say:

“call me omi, like you used to.”

“i still have your number saved, can i text you instead?”

“of course i want to see you again. and not just in this setting. but as friends.”

but he knows it’s too early to say any of that. he’s stuck in his head again, pulling at the fabric at his pants before he realizes she’s waiting on him. the door is open, and she wants him to leave. “okay,” he says quietly. “thank you for listening to me. i’ll think about it and email you if i decide i want to see you again.”

inside his head, something in him feels more triumphant, like he’s won control of the situation again. it’s his decision if he wants to see her again; he decides if she sees him again.

but in his chest, something twists. he wants her to say it back, that she wants to see him again. that it was good to see him again. but of course she won’t say that. he’s the client.

he wishes she would say something. anything. just one thing that’s not “professional,” or whatever she calls it.

“sounds good. if you send an email, just include what your availability is and i’ll tell you mine,” she says, holding out the note for him to grab as he passes by her. he feels lightheaded, and he has to force himself to keep walking, ignoring the way his body automatically pulls himself towards her.

“and sakusa,” she calls out, making him lose any sense of control he had left. he never could resist her, could he? whenever she asked him to sneak out of the house or buy her something to eat. 

he freezes in his steps and looks back at her. he’s not sure what his face looks like; if his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, and it’s obvious that he’s hoping she’ll say what he wants her to. or maybe his face is stern and apathetic, and he’ll shun her away like he did before.

“it sounds like you’ve made it really far. you’ve made a name for yourself, and you’re working towards your dreams. that’s good. you’re doing good,” she has a small smile on her face as she stands facing him, half hiding behind her wooden door. it’s nothing like the wide smiles she would give as his ears rang with her laughter, but maybe this one was even better. it’s a smile that says “maybe we can be more. maybe be can try again."

he’s at a loss for words, still looking at her. maybe it’s stupid and embarrassing, but he really hopes his face is expressive instead of something emotionless and unreadable. 

because he takes too long to respond, and suddenly the door is shut in his face, leaving him in her tiny square waiting room, painfully aware of how alone he is.

again.

.

.

.

" the mind forgets, but the heart always remembers. "

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extras <3

sorry for any repetition!! i tried to do it three times since that's a grammar thing i think <3

slightly more light hearted next chapter! thank u for reading <3

gonna put little notes at the end of the chapter from omi, just detailing his thoughts like y/n suggested him to do <3

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