#stranger than (fan)fiction

[mlpoutofcontext]

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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[stvharrngton]

Hii kyrie!! Hope you are doing very well!!

So maybe this is a strange request and it's totally fine if you don't make it, so don't feel pressured love !

So I've been told thru all my life in various types of ways that I'm not pretty or pretty enough, so that has made me so self conscious and I'm just you know aware that I'm not pretty, so I would like to know how do you think steve would react to reader feeling that she is not pretty enough even when she is in a relationship with steve.

It can be smutty or not, what ever you decide is perfect to me love!!!

Ok, bye ily <3

hi my love <3 i'm sorry you feel like that i just know you are super pretty and our stevie would think so too 🥺 i went for smutty i hope that's okay!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy on praise and pet names <3

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The mirror sat atop your vanity, specks of dust decorating the glass. The reflection staring back at you was one you’d pondered over a thousand or more times, fingers prodding and pulling at the skin of the face in the mirror. Smoothing over the freckles and blemishes, rubbing at the circles below the eyes.

The reflection was yours, your face, your eyes, your hair and your nose. Your features that you’d come to think about more often than not. When Steve found you sat in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and a pair of soft cotton shorts his brow furrowed.

He called out for you when he walked into your quiet home, “Baby?” bottom lip jutting out when he was answered with silence. He reached your bedroom with a quiet knock on the door as he called out your name. Steve entered your room timidly when he was met with your figure in front of the mirror.

“Baby?” He asked quietly, “Everything okay? You never answered me.”

Steve came to stand behind where you sat, hands gentle and warm on your shoulders as he watched your face in the mirror. Your expression blank, like your mind was busy with a hurricane of thoughts. The words that spilled out from your mouth hurt Steve like a knife to the chest.

“Steve, am I pretty?”

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging agape with his brows pinched together. He leant in next to you, so his chin was on your shoulder, his face next to yours staring back through the mirror. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips sweet and gentle on your skin.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, baby, you know that.” Steve watched you carefully in the mirror as your eyes raked over your body, your lips downturned into something sad, “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough-” you sighed, lips pursed together as you tried to ignore the feeling of Steve being so close to you, “not pretty enough for you.”

“What?!” Steve protested, turning his head to face your profile, “that’s crazy, sweetheart. You know I think you’re beautiful, hm?” Another kiss pressed to your cheek, “So hot and sexy, my sweet girl,” his voice was lower this time, lips encasing the shell of your ear, “how ‘bout I show my girl just how pretty she is, huh?”

Your skin erupted in goosebumps, heat rising up your neck as Steve’s words went right to your core. His lips travelled lower, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he pressed sweet kisses on your neck.

“You got the most beautiful eyes, baby,” Steve started, his hands moving to hold your waist, “so dreamy and your nose? Shit, you got the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

His lips followed the curve of your neck to your shoulder, a hand dancing up over your stomach, ghosting over the material of your bra and to your face. Steve let his thumb swipe over your plump bottom lip.

“And baby that smile of yours,” he groaned lowly when you sucked his thumb between your lips, “makes me weak at the knees and I wish I could set your laugh as the sound on my alarm clock.”

You hummed a laugh at his cheesy compliment, Steve sporting a wide eyed grin in return. “See? You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, tone low and rasp as his fingers found the material of your bra again, working their way round to the clasp.

The contraption dropped to the floor with one fell swoop, freeing your breasts from their confines. Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool air hit your skin, nipples erect and Steve’s for the taking. His large hands cupped your tits, gently squeezing the flesh as his thumbs rolled over your nipples.

You mewled quietly, a soft little whimper tumbling past your lips as Steve took his bottom lip between his teeth, lips coming to your ear once more, “And these pretty tits are so perfect, can’t get enough.”

Teeth nipping at your neck, hands still caressing your tits, Steve ushered you up from the chair, pressing your body into the vanity desk. He pressed himself into your back, the soft material of his shirt scratching at your body, the bulge beneath his jeans felt against your ass.

Steve kept one hand pressed to your chest, the other wandered down your front, a quick squeeze to your hip as he slid his fingers between your ass and his front. Pushing your shorts to the side, Steve ghosted his fingers over the lace covering where you wanted him most, the small wet patch beneath his fingers making him take a sharp intake of his breath.

“And this pretty little pussy of yours,” Steve cooed, fingertip teasing at your entrance, “she’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. The feeling of his finger barely pushing into your hole driving you insane, your body white hot all over and he was just getting started.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Steve encouraged, “tell me what you want, use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the dirty words he spoke, feeling your arousal poole at your core. You pressed your ass out into Steve’s hands, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his finger. Steve chuckled cruelly at your actions, teasing as he removed his finger from your cunt.

“Steve, please,” you begged, “anything, baby, please just touch me.” You pleading never went a miss with Steve, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped to his knees.

Fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts and panties, the material soon dropped to the floor around your feet. Steve peppered kisses up the backs of your thighs, his large hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pulling and squeezing. Steve pulled you apart, revealing your pussy to him.

Wet and ready for whatever Steve was going to give you, he groaned at the sight of you. Slick covering your pussy, smeared across your plush thighs. He pressed a single kiss to your hole, lips pouting as he gripped your ass.

You moaned loudly at the gesture, eyes fluttering closed as Steve began to move his lips and tongue in tandem. You felt him groan from behind you, the vibrations rumbling through your pussy, your thighs clenching involuntarily. The sounds that filled the room were pornographic, dirty, filthy. Slurping and sucking, licking and kissing.

If there’s one thing that Steve Harrington knew how to do, it was eat pussy like his life depended on it.

Steve grabbed harshly at your ass, his palm coming down against your cheek, a yelp echoing off your bedroom walls. Steve groaned into your pussy at the noise, his cock straining beneath his jeans at the pretty little gasps and whimpers that were serving as music to his ears.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Steve cooed, “so fuckin’ good.”

You fell to the desk below you, unable to keep yourself up any longer. The pleasure coursed through you like lightning, a sharp flick of Steve’s tongue over your clit sent you over the edge.

“Uh uh, baby,” Steve uttered, “keep those pretty eyes on that mirror.” One hand left your ass, the distinct sound of the metal of Steve’s belt clinking, the leather slapping against itself, “Want you to see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You wailed as Steve never stopped the movements of his tongue, your slick totally covering his mouth and chin you were sure. Eyes shooting open, gaze fixated on yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were hazy, your lips red and bitten. The sound of Steve’s denim being shoved down his thighs rang loud in your ears, the jostle of his wrist as he fisted his cock felt as he buried his face in your pussy.

The beginnings of your orgasm rocked your body, your cheeks heating up as your jaw went slack. The muscles in your stomach and thighs began to clench, your moans and whispers of Steve’s name turned into incoherent mumbles. A jumble of praise and ramblings of how good Steve was making you feel the only things you could muster.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–” you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the vanity, “please, don’t stop, baby.”

“That’s my girl, come on, baby, let it go,” Steve groaned, palm slapping against your ass as he sucked and licked at your clit, “keep those eyes open, honey.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your body hot and cold all over, your eyes wide and pupils dilated as you stared at yourself in the mirror, watching yourself cum with your boyfriend’s face buried inside your cunt really was a sight to behold.

Your body writhed against the table as Steve continued to lick at you all soft and slow, drawing out your orgasm until you were crying at the overstimulation. His own fist had since slowed, pumping his cock at a fragile pace, teasing himself like you often would.

When he finally removed his mouth from your pussy, you exhaled a sigh of relief, body slumping against the wooden desk. The quietness of your bliss all but lasted momentarily as you heard Steve groan from behind you.

Fingers still wrapped around his stiff cock, eyes glued to your sticky pussy as your juices mixed with Steve’s saliva dribbled down your thighs. You stuck your ass out for him to see, as if inviting him to slip inside you.

“Steve–”

“Baby, fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as he spoke, “I gotta– shit, I gotta see your face when I cum, please?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you spun around, Steve still on his knees, gaze fixated on your lower half. The boy shot up in a flash, hands immediately cupping your cheeks, lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hungry, fervent, Steve having worked himself up into a frenzy.

He picked you up from where you stood, your legs wrapping around your waist, arms slung over his broad shoulders. Steve laid you down on the soft sheets, hands reaching to rid himself of his shirt, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers.

His larger frame towered over you, soft kisses peppered all over your flushed face as his forehead came to rest against yours, his gaze flickered down between your bodies as he pushed himself inside you, cock in hand.

Steve moaned loudly, all high pitched and pretty. A gruff ‘fuck’ trembled past his pink lips, giving himself a minute to billow in the feel of your warm pussy around his cock. The stretch of Steve’s cock was one you had grown to love, the initial sting a sinful pain you craved.

It wasn’t long before he was bottoming out, hips moving hard, cock stroking deep inside your walls, “Fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last long, shit–”

“Oh, Steve,” you breathed, skin dewy and hot, Steve’s cock stroking your special spot just right. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his tailbone as he rolled his hips into yours over and over again, desperately chasing his own climax.

“My sweet girl,” the boy moaned, a throaty rasp, his hair wild, “you’re so pretty,” he babbled, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. My beautiful girl. So good f’me.”

Steve’s word vomit of praise was endearing, you were sure tears would be lining your lashes if he wasn’t fucking the breath out of your chest right now. He grappled your hands away from his shoulders, fingers interlocking as he held them at the side of your head, lips falling into place with yours as his hair began to fall out of place.

He was on the cusp, you knew that, could tell by the words he was moaning, the way he squeezed your hands so tight, how he kissed you as if to stop himself from wailing out your name.

He fucked his cock into you harder, deeper. You moaned his name into his mouth as he kissed you, a sweet gasp only spurring him on. You felt him twitch inside you, thighs clenching as he whined, “Oh, baby, oh fuck—,” gaze fixated on your fucked out features, “gonna cum, shit—“

As soon as Steve felt your walls clench around his length he was a goner. Hot cum spurting from his tip, pairing your walls as he groaned out your name. Curses fell from his tongue like a chant as his orgasm washed over him.

Chest heaving and breath heavy, Steve whined as he rode out his high. Eyes squeezed shut tightly as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the soft skin of your neck.

He hissed and grunted as soon as he pulled himself away from you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Steve pulled you into his chest, thick ringlets of hair matted with sweat as he lay spent.

Steve let his lips rest on your temple, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he spoke,

“Prettiest girl in the world, baby, y’hear me?”

[lcdrarry]

14 June 2024 | LCDrarry Art

Go the Whole Wide World

Prompt: "Stranger than Fiction", 2006, Marc Forster Prompted by: @stavromulabetaaa Artists: Anonymous Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Notes [abridged]: From J: To M, my beloved partner in paper, I am so very happy to pay homage to one of our favorite films together! The artistry you pulled out for this piece absolutely takes my breath away. I am, as always, so honored to create with you! To our prompter Stavro, thank you so much for prompting a movie we adore. We had a blast recreating this chaotic apartment, with as many materials as we could cram into it, for another skilled crafter!

From M: To Stavro, I've loved this movie for a long time and was beyond excited to work on your prompt. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed working on it. And to J, I’m sure you know by now how much it means to me each and every time we do a collab together. It is a joy to get to work with you and your creativity never fails to inspire me to do my best work.

Summary: When government employee Draco Crick was assigned to audit baker Harry Pascal, neither anticipated falling in love, but sometimes the person right next to you is the most welcome surprise.

View it now on AO3.

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 15 June.

[spitblaze]

todays award for 'man what the fuck' goes to reddit for making me see pr0/-ship discourse in goddamn 2023. thought we were past that but i guess not

[lectovers]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47009044

word count : 1,198

steve harrington x eddie munson

For Eddie, nonchalance is always a far safer option to blaming himself, or placing accountability on his father. That way, he doesn’t have to hate either of the two. He knows it’s futile, because no one will ever care as little as those who hurt him. His cool demeanor doesn’t change anything about what really happened, and it can’t protect him from the past that makes him want to eat every word he’s ever spoken. 

Steve Harrington has always had a knack for reading people, and putting himself on the line for those he cares about. He can’t help but notice that Eddie talks a whole lot, but tends to avoid saying really anything at all. He thinks of “Hey, Steve?” and empty the words after. He feels the sort of things that make you save a boy when the world is caving in on itself.

A story about Eddie, and all the implications of his self imposed quiet

[visarcana]

I’m just here to post this thing I just saw on a meme site. 

Somebody apparently just lives a modern AU of my fic y’all!

mind=blown

[mlpoutofcontext]

Daring Do is trans (real)

[jo-harrington]

The Boy Is Mine (Jo's Edition)

Summary: A romantic night in at the trailer. And a first date.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: First Date, Fluff, First Kiss, Teasing, Banter, Geekery

Notes: My submission for @carolmunson's The Boy Is Mine Writing Excercise. This was a fun one, and I know the idea was for it not to be an AU...I guess technically it isn't (although I definitely thought of my STFF Eddie who...well...it's fanfiction *wink* especially since we're not gonna see their first date in the story). Thank you for putting together a fun game Carol.

Tagging a few friends who I think would have some great additions to this prompt: @eddiemunsonbignaturals @undead-supernova @storiesbyrhi

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Pizza? Delivered.

Twinkies? Vanilla frosting. Not Banana.

Trailer? Tidied.

Sheets? Changed.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie took a breath and held it as he stared at his bed.

"You're not gonna end up in here," he muttered to himself.

Ok but maybe you would. He could be hopeful. Maybe a kiss would lead to something else.

"No idiot. It's just a study date."

There was another knock and he turned on his heel and rushed for the door.

He paused at the last second--glanced around, ran his hands over the front of his t-shirt, and put the most casual smile on his face--before he opened the door.

And then there you were.

A backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of Dr. Pepper hanging from your fingers, looking...hot effortlessly gorgeous...or at least he thought so.

"Hey," you greeted. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

Eddie clenched his fist in victory as he shut the door and then stood back and watched indulgently as you took in the wonders of the place he called home. He committed it all to memory; the way your eyes lingered on Wayne's collection of mugs and hats from over the years, or your nose scrunched up cutely at the sight of family pictures on a shelf--

Please god, don't see the picture of him missing his two front teeth.

--or the way it scrunched further, more in annoyance than fondness, and your eyebrow quirked at the stack of video tapes beside the television.

Shit.

"Uh," he cleared his throat and swooped in, arm hovering around your shoulders as he led you to the couch where the pizza and his history homework waited. His hand drifted to yours so he could grab the sodas. "Lemme put this in the fridge so it gets cold. I have Mountain Dew...or beer, if you want one."

"Mountain Dew's fine."

"As you wish," he bowed and you giggled. He cursed himself as he headed to the kitchen.

What a fucking nerd--

"So you read the Princess Bride?" you called out to him.

"Y-yes."

"It's one of my favorite books! A story within a story and all of that. And it can be critical of itself. It's perfect!"

Eddie's heart soared.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes discussing the merits of the book and the way it provided so much suspense and adventure and escapism; something it seemed, and Eddie wasn't surprised to find, you both had needed throughout your relatively-young lives.

Before long, he shuffled out of the kitchen with two cans and two solo cups to find you comfortably settled on the couch with your legs criss-crossed and a throw pillow settled in your lap. You looked right at home, at ease with him, and he had to say...he liked that sight quite a bit.

"I ran out of like, nice cups," he changed the subject so he wouldn't focus too much on how much he enjoyed the sight. "Hope this is okay."

"Ok, well what are the nice cups?" you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. "Because I see plenty of nice cups right in front of us, Mister."

You gestured at the shelves lined with mugs and Eddie couldn't help but roll his eyes at you.

"Those aren't nice cups Madam," he scoffed. "Those are family heirlooms. The nice cups are the Star Wars: Return of the Jedi glasses I got from Burger King. Obviously."

"Well excuse me," you straightened in your seat and rocked your shoulders back and forth haughtily. "The fine crystal."

"And don't you forget it."

"And here you are, presenting me with...plastic. Like a peasant."

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

He held out the red solo cup filled with fluorescent green liquid and you snatched it from him with a quick flash of your tongue.

Then the two of you got right down to business: homework.

You pulled a small notebook from your backpack and then asked to see his notes from class so you could help him get a better idea of what was important for an upcoming quiz that he'd mentioned the day prior. He was ashamed to say he wasn't the best notetaker, but you pivoted easily as you flipped through a few pages and went from sparse notes about Civics and the US Constitution to long drawn out paragraphs about the Riders of Rohan and graphic descriptions of the Meduseld.

"Don't be like that," you scolded him. "That's not even true. What is this?"

"This?" He waved dismissively. "It's just...notes for Hellfire. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff."

Eddie sniffed and thought back to the many times that he'd been cut short trying to explain his ideas to others; even Ronnie got on his case when he got too into it.

How many times had she heard him get into an argument with himself over the benefits of Mithril vs. Adamantium?

"Excuse me," you looked at him expectantly, breaking through his thoughts. "Nerd stuff?"

"Yeah," he shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Nerd stuff. We're supposed to be focusing on History."

"Ok, yes but..." you reached out and poked him in the the dimple in his cheek. "You didn't say in a 'we should just focus on history instead' way. You said it in a 'you don't want to hear about this' way."

"Well do you? Do you actually like that?""

"Did I not just tell you that Inigo Montoya is the real hero of Princess Bride and not Westley or Buttercup not five minutes ago?"

Eddie stared at you like a deer in the headlights.

Ok. You got him there.

But...but...God...old habits died hard.

How many times had people not given him the time of day when it came to silly little stories and make believe worlds? How many times had the people closest to him not even taken the time to listen?

He'd already been sold on the fact that you weren't just a dream; how could you be real and actually be his dream girl too?

God, it was too good to be true.

Eddie swallowed hard and centered himself back in reality. He was gonna have to salvage this moment before he made a real fool out of himself and asked you to marry him or something. That would be a little too strong for a first date...and a study date, at that.

He grumbled something under his breath.

"'Scuse me? What was that?" you leaned in closer to him.

"It was 10 minutes ago," he spoke up, staring at you matter-of-factly, a fiery challenge in his eyes to hide the fact that he was actively falling for you. "Actually."

You threw your head back in a laugh and slapped the back of your hand against his shoulder.

"You shithead," you cackled. "Ok fine. 10 minutes. Now. How about we actually study for 10 more minutes, and then you can tell me about this...Dungeons and Dragons while we eat ok?"

He happily agreed.

Towards the end of the night, pizza and sodas had been devoured, homework demolished, and Eddie actually felt like he had a shot at getting a decent grade on his next History quiz.

"Alright," he sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "I think we're done here. A success if I do say so myself. I guess I'll keep you around."

"Keep me?" you quirked an eyebrow at him. "Uh huh, more like, will you please come back and help me study again?"

"Are..." Eddie scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You volunteered!"

"I volunteered for one study date."

"What, so a second one is out of the question?" he asked as he leaned forward and edged into your space.

"Well," you began with an expression that oozed contemplation in an exaggerated fashion. God, you were almost as dramatic as he was.

You were perfect.

"Well, if you're asking me for a second date, Edward? Then the answer is yes."

He clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Haha, see I knew that you couldn't get enough of--"

"But," you stopped him, and he stared, open-mouthed with words half-falling from his lips. "If you're asking me to come back to study? Well, then the second session is gonna cost you."

And he fell for it for a second. Just a split second. He thought that yeah it made sense if he wanted your help, he was gonna have to give something in return.

But then he saw the sly little smile that you were fighting to keep off your lips, saw the adorable little scrunch in your nose that he'd memorized earlier in the night, and the way your fingers fiddled on the couch cushion, as you slowly inched closer to him.

And he understood.

Oh...

"Oh yeah?" He narrowed his eyes at you in faux-suspicion. "Alright...name your price."

"It's not gonna be cheap," you insisted.

"I can pay anything."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh," he leaned closer to you now, volume and timber getting lower the closer he got. "I'm absolutely sure sweetheart."

You bit your lip slyly.

"I think fair market price...is a kiss."

"Just one?" he teased, lips absolutely within smooching distance from yours now.

"Maybe two."

You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay and Eddie had to stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

"Two?! Well," he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain. And who am I to pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime deal?"

"Just a nerd," you whispered against his lips.

"Just a nerd," he repeated, and then slotted his lips right against yours, ending your perfect first date with the perfect first kiss.

Just like on TV.

[ekvuus]

rainbow icons acquired

[kaftan]

#this has to be a lie cause yall wouldve never shut up about it and i wouldve seen it mentioned by now

Not a lie in the slightest. It’s mentioned semi-occasionally because it is, all things considered, one of the less eventful things to happen in Animorphs.

source

[teaboot]

When I was a kid I would take the last page of all my mom's sketchbooks and draw a screen on one side and a "keyboard" on the other, then prop it open and pretend we were both doing computer work. Laptops had become mainstream only 5 years earlier, so it was still thinner and lighter than real laptops, and my mom mostly worked on a Windows 95 with a monitor bigger than I was and a computer heavier than I was. I used to think YouTube was boring because it was just a couple hundred home videos filmed by strangers. I got my first camera when I was 12 and it held 10 pictures, or 1 full minute of video, without a memory card. On my first phone, which was a flip phone, it cost $1 minimum every time I sent a text, and you had to press numbers a specific number of times to make a letter. I brought my Walkman to school to listen to Lord of the Rings on cassette tapes. Nobody was allowed to use the phone when my Dad was working in the office. Yes, we had the dial-up noise. I got an AM/FM radio for my birthday one year. Another year, I got a whole box of CDs to listen to music. I wrote my first fan fiction on a Windows 98 that came with free Minesweeper and Solitaire. I was born before El Chupacabra. And now these things are gone. Wild

[pegging-satan]

Man when you’re best friends with someone but y’all are so close that their parents and grandparents think y’all are fucking and will definitely be getting married so their GRANDMA CALLS YOU TO HER ROOM TO GIVE YOU HER BLESSINGS?!????

[delewlew]

the prettiest girl: charles leclerc x black fem! reader smau ⋆.˚ 𓇼⋆.

request: a friend of Charles is hitting on y/n and like he likes all her Instagram pictures talking about her, send her messages so it makes Charles jealous. - @kayleen0

warnings: jealousy, suggestive content

author's note: for the sake of this request im using one of charles' friends, hugo. this is no hate to him and this is a work of fiction not to be taken seriously. i hope that you enjoy what i've written!

the first time you noticed that something weird was going on between one of charles' friends and you was a random afternoon you all were on a yacht having a friends day. it was nothing crazy, just charles' childhood friends and their girlfriends for the guys who weren't single. the way his eyes lingered on you a moment longer than everyone else's, the way he ended up by your side if charles wasn't there as he tried to make attempts to get you to talk to him. from the beginning of it all you were fairly cautious about it. all the answers to his questions were one or two words, laughs were forced and smiles were awkward and ingenuine. yet for some odd reason you got the feeling that he just didn't get the hint, or chose to ignore it. however you weren't completely sure if maybe it was all in your head, after all a lot of his friends were friendly and told you that you looked nice so maybe that's all it was...maybe?

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

isthatyn

liked by charles_leclerc, hugomicallef, and 15,304 others

isthatyn summertime livin' sweet summertime lovin' 🍭☀️🌈 💗

view all 2,209 comments

havanaroseliu bring me back a bag of bubs pls  🥺

⤷ isthatyn you know i did <3

charles_leclerc loving every moment i spend with you ❤️

⤷ isthatyn i love you so much wow 🥹

cocojones i miss you :(

⤷ isthatyn yet you never answer my calls 😒

⤷ cocojones girl i been working ntm on me 😭

⤷ username1 OOP COCO BOOKED AND BUSY!

hugomicallef the prettiest girl 😍

⤷ username2 oh thats...

⤷ username3 chill out he's just stating a fact

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

your gaze lingered on your phone screen as you read his comment over and over again.

the prettiest girl 😍

no matter how many times you tried to rationalize it, something just didn't sit right with you about it. you tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just being nice, charles' fans were always calling you variations of "queen slayer" , "prettiest f1 wag", and "most beautiful woman ever" but that just seemed different when it came from someone you knew closer than some strangers online that happened to support you.

charles' voice snapped you out of your trance, "qu'est-ce que tu regardes, mon cœur ?" you jumped slightly and put your phone down quickly, tucking it under your thigh, "nothing just instagram comments." charles eyed you up and down then asked, "why do you have this shocked look on your face? did someone say something to you?" you debated on actually mentioning hugo's comments but at the last minute you changed your mind, "no you just startled me, i wasn't paying attention that's all." his shoulders relaxed and the features on his face softened, "ah i'm sorry my love, i didn't mean to scare you." he kissed your temple and walked off elsewhere in your shared apartment. [what are you looking at, my heart?]

not a minute later you felt your phone buzz and you received a DM on twitter. you checked and noticed that it was hugo responding to the message you sent him earlier. the minute you opened it your heart sank to your feet as you read his very obviously flirtatious reply. instead of just ignoring it you decided to respond, telling yourself that maybe if you didn't match his energy and kept it brief maybe he'd read the room:

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

you felt your phone DMs on twitter go off once more and you didn't even have to check them to know who it was. at this point you decided to just post a little more obviously on instagram that you were happily in a relationship, in your mind that's what this dumbass guy might need to see...right?:

isthatyn

liked by hugomicallef, charles_leclerc, and 16,203 others

isthatyn avec toi, je sui moi [with you i am me]

view all 3,771 comments

lilymhe the prettiest! 😍💗

⤷ isthatyn no that's definitely you 🫶

charles_leclerc Mon cœur t'appartient [my heart belongs to you]

username4 did charles play her a song-

⤷ username5 girl pls that man has probably composed an entire symphony for that woman 😭😭😭

hugomicallef a work of art photographing a work of art 😍💕

⤷ charles_leclerc 🤨

⤷ username6 here this man go again with these weird ass comments 😒

sabrinacarpenter it was so nice running into you <3

⤷ isthatyn you too! i can't wait for the album to drop soon!!!

francisca.cgomes i'm about to make pierre learn to play piano now :)

⤷ isthatyn omg girl do it

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

knots formed in your stomach as you noticed that charles did respond to the comment left by his friend. you knew that he was sending you pictures that you posed and just responding to them with whatever weird ass comments he thought of. you'd seen the messages and read them, gut wrenching disgust filing your stomach. at this point you knew that telling charles was no longer an option, it simply had to be done. however the idea of showing your boyfriend what his friend was saying to you brought a worry that you never thought you'd feel. the idea that rather than being mad at his best friend, he'd blame you instead for the unwanted attention became a thought on the forefront of your mind. you'd seen similar things happen in friends' relationships and even in some of your past ones as well. you knew you had to tell him, you just didn't want to knowing that maybe you'd lose him in the process.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

charles had seen the way hugo had been liking his close friends instagram stories but only the ones with you in it. he noticed the way hugo was amongst the first to like and comment under your posts as well. the first comment he noticed to be...off putting was calling you a work of art, that's not something you say about a friend let alone a friend's girlfriend. he'd kept his mouth shut not wanting to upset you into thinking you did something wrong by posting pictures of yourself, so he left it alone. in his mind, hugo was a good friend who had always respected him in his past relationships so why would that suddenly change? it shouldn't, at least that's what he told himself. but on the off chance that maybe hugo was 'confused', he simply posted something that got the message across:

charles_leclerc

liked by isthatyn, hugomicallef, and 1,773,906 others

charles_leclerc mes deux cœurs  💕

isthatyn ur so fine i neED YOU RN 🤤

⤷ charles_leclerc baby pls-

⤷ isthatyn that's what i would be saying if you were here with me rn 😤

username7 what ever happened to hello, how are you?

⤷ isthatyn CAN YOU BLAME ME LOOK AT HIM

oscarpiastri i miss the person i was before reading all that ☹️

⤷ isthatyn don't disrespect your mother

hugomicallef a shame we can't see her gorgeous face 😔

⤷ charles_leclerc you can't but i can 😉

username9 LMFAO GET EM SHARL

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

you sat across from charles on the bed in your shared bedroom and noticed the way his brow furrowed as he looked at his phone. a feeling of dread settled in your stomach as soon as he asked, "baby have you seen your comments under our instagram posts?" you closed the book you were reading and pretended to not know what he was mentioning, so you changed the subject before he could focus on the person you didn't want to think about. with that specific gaze saved for the most intimate of moments you pulled his phone from his hand, "the comments you did nothing about when i left them?" slowly you crawled over to him and settled right on his lap so you were straddling his hips.

almost as if it was an instinct, charles' hands found their place on each side of your body, his thumbs gently rubbing circles at your hipbone. your fingers tangled into his hair as you pulled his head back slightly to bring his lips to yours once you leaned down. the taste of your vanilla mint chapstick filled his mouth as his tongue lightly brushed against your plump bottom lip. he was lost in all that you were for a moment before he remembered what he was going to say. abruptly he pulled away, "y/n-" you cut him off, hoping that he would fall under your spell, "don't deny me, not right now." his blue eyes locked with yours, those long thick eyelashes that framed your glittering eyes pulled him in once more and all it took was a soft whispered, "please charlie..." he pulled your shirt off and tossed it aside before flipping you over so you were now under him. charles began kissing your neck gently right at that spot you loved so much. your eyes began to fall shut as you finally let the worries you held on to leave your mind, opening up your thoughts to be taken over by the man above you.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

isthatyn

liked by hugomicallef, tiffanyandco, and 992, 711 others

isthatyn never want this break to end 💐🧡

tyla everything about you 🩷

⤷ isthatyn TYLA- PLS WAIT I LOVE YOU PLEASE LOVE OF MY LIFE

⤷ tyla ilysm pretty girl, we have to get together sometime

⤷ charles_leclerc excuse me 😐

⤷ isthatyn charles_leclerc STOP EMBARASSING ME IN FRONT OF TYLA ✋🏾

altonmason u r so hawt

⤷ isthatyn LMAOOOO TY ILY ILY ILY 💖💗

username10 y/n pls may i have your hand in marriage 💍

⤷ isthatyn no you may not - charles

⤷ username10 sharing is caring charles 😔

⤷ isthatyn i don't care. therefore, she's mine - charles

hugomicallef can charles fight?

⤷ charles_leclerc yes he can. would you like to come find out? 🙃

username11 ion mean to be rude or nun but do he realize he's talking to his PROFESSIONAL BOXER of a friend about fighting...he'd lose...badly

⤷ username12 how do u kno? he could be able to throw down

⤷ username13 baby the dimples and blue eyes aren't gonna help him in a fight. he'd be cooked in under 30 seconds 💀💀💀

hugomicallef like an angel of the sea, a siren calling my name 😘

⤷ isthatyn ambulance sirens are going to be calling your name if you don't get out of my fucking comments you sick fuck 🖕

⤷ carlossainz55 this is really not cool man...

⤷ landonorris she's not calling your fucking name dipshit

⤷ oscarpiastri get out of here

⤷ alex_albon BOOOOO 👎TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO!!!! 🍅🍅🍅

⤷ lewishamilton have some respect dude

⤷ pierregasly she doesn't fucking like you

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

there was no point in trying to avoid having the conversation that you should have had days ago. hugo was very obviously flirting with you and judging by the fact that multiple drivers hopped into your comment section coming to your defense, it was obvious charles had told them something. the minute charles came home from a workout you made a beeline to the bathroom to hide. as much as you knew there was no point, that worry of him blaming you and leaving controlled all rational thoughts.

you remained silent in the bathroom until charles slowly pushed the door open and didn't say anything to you. he was very obviously infuriated by the entire ordeal but he didn't even know the entire thing. silently you watched cautiously and he simply walked up to you and placed a hand on your cheek before kissing you so gently against your lips. he pulled away and asked quietly, "i'll shower and then we talk, yes?" you nodded silently and shuffled away into your bedroom where the ten minutes he took felt like ten hours.

when charles was finally out of the shower you were staring out the bedroom window watching people outside. you jumped when you felt a pair of warm hands around your waist turn you to face the other direction. charles held your gaze as he asked, "why didn't you tell me that he was messaging you?" tears immediately filled your eyes and panic coursed through your veins as heat warmed your cheeks, "i didn't- i'm sorry i-i didn't want to ruin your friendship i knew that you two were childhood friends and i thought if i ignored him then he'd leave me alone but he didn't and i should have told you immediately but i was scared you'd blame me and i didn't want to make you mad and-"

your boyfriend held onto your hands and led you to the edge of your bed, "darling please take a deep breath. i'm not mad at you, i'm mad at him for disrespecting you and our relationship. i also should have talked to him sooner, but i didn't want you to feel guilty for anything that happened. you shouldn't have had to deal with this, and i'm sorry for not being there to defend you when it started. i'm no longer friends with hugo, the entire friend group is no longer friends with him....also i will admit you did make me laugh with the last messages you sent him to tell him off." when you looked up with a worried gaze he clarified, "he sent me all of them to try to make you look like the one at fault."

you let out a sigh and charles pulled you closer to his chest where he could still feel your heart racing a mile a minute. he kissed the top of your head and said, "i'm sorry my darling." you melted into his embrace and you sniffled softly, "thank you...but i still feel like....guilty?" charles squeezed you tighter, "the only thing you are guilty of is being my only love, my pretty girl." you finally let out a small laugh, the first he's heard from you in a week. there was a warm gentleness to his voice as he told you, "i never want you to feel like you can't tell me something, especially when it's something like this okay?" you hummed in understanding and he kissed you once more, giving one last squeeze before letting you go.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

the end.

[thenationofzaun]

The Vander/Silco Shitshow - generic, juvenile, and gimmicky slop

So, I think that Vander/Silco flashback was terrible. Tropey, careless, juvenile, clichéd bullshit that stripped away everything that made their season 1 story nuanced and poignant, while simultaneously ripping open a fat plot hole because the team got careless and did not catch the discrepancy between the story they'd written in their heads and the visuals that ended up on screen in season 1. This is just going to be a long rant post detailing the reasons I absolutely despised this flashback. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just my (strongly held) opinion.

1) The timeline plot hole

No, I'm not misusing the term. So a plot hole is an inconsistency in a fictional narrative that cannot be explained away by any plausible in-universe justifications. There are many moments of weak writing in Arcane that may be contrived, rushed, weird, convenient, etc. but aren't plot holes.

This Vander/Silco situation however. Oh boy. If you all remember, Season 1 opened with the bridge massacre, also known as the Day of Ash. Vander is shown cracking enforcers' skulls. He looks like this.

The sisters, seemingly recognizing him, ask him where their parents are. He gestures to their corpses, the sisters cry, Vander has his "violence is not the answer" epiphany, drops the gauntlets very dramatically to underscore this massive turning point of character development for him, then picks the girls up and leaves the bridge.

In episode 3, we are shown a flashback. Vander is trying to kill Silco in the river. He looks like this.

Let's compare this to how he looked like on the Day of Ash.

Yeah. According to the visuals shown in Season 1, the falling out of Vander and Silco seems to have occured in the past before the Day of Ash, evidenced by how much younger Vander looks. Unless Silco is a time traveller who jumped forward to the future to throw a molotov at the riot because he just loves violent extremism that much, or Vander took the time to shave his beard and apply heavy duty anti-aging lotion on his face before hunting Silco down, there are no plausible in-universe explanations for this inconsistency. Not to mention, if Silco and Vander were really as close as brothers and the sisters knew Vander, then it's impossible they wouldn't have known who Silco was.

Yet, in Season 1, that's exactly what we see - not a single sliver of recognition between Silco and the girls, nothing to imply they knew of his existence before episode 3. Not a single conversation between Jinx and Silco implied that he knew, let alone was close to, her mother. Nothing from Vi throughout the entire first season indicated that she knew of his past friendships with her mother and Vander. They acted like total strangers to each other.

Many fans already caught this inconsistency during the three-year gap after writers' comments online implied Silco was involved in the Day of Ash. We had hoped the writers would catch on to this discrepancy too and either iron out the timeline if they want to do serious flashbacks, or just avoid calling attention to it completely by not doing flashbacks of their falling out. Alas.

2) Leonardo Dicaprio pointing meme

Death to the everybody-knows-everyone trope and lines that only exist to invoke the "Leonardo Dicaprio pointing" meme. Throw them into a fucking fire. Boring, mind-numbing, clichéd, overdone garbage. Not every character needs to have some kind of half-baked relation with each other. Not every major incident needs to be tied back to the main characters. Not every single detail needs to be overexplained and justified and again, somehow tied to a main character. They are unnecessary, and make the world feel so much more claustrophobic and smaller than it should be.

"The enforcers actually commited the Day of Ash massacre because SILCO threw a molotov. Vander actually tried to kill Silco because of VI AND JINX'S mother. She knew both Silco and Vander personally and TOLD THEM to help her raise her kids. VANDER named Vi."

Bullshit like this really fucks with immersion, because it becomes clear very quickly that the world is only occupied by a small handful of real characters while the thousands of other people in it are nothing more than inconsequential set dressing and wallpaper. The story and world no longer feel real, vast, and immersive. And these forced "connections" between main characters are so obviously manufactured to generate "OUGHHH" and Dicaprio pointing reactions. Idk about anyone else, but it takes me completely out of the story when I can obviously tell the writing is trying too hard to blow my mind.

The girls' mom waltzing up to Vander and Silco and just. Fucking telling them to help her with her kids lmfaoooooooo. (OUGHH and they both really ended up raising her kids WOAGH😱🤯). Jinx's mom saying choosing a name is stressful because her child will feel stuck with it (GASP and Powder ended up changing her name WOOOOWW😱). Vander coming up with Vi's fucking name. (OUGHHHH HE REALLY WAS MEANT TO BE FATHER ALL ALONG WOADGHHGHDHDH🤯🤯🤯).

Fucking kill me. Arcane Season 1 was surprisingly good precisely because they DIDN'T, for the most part, resort to tropey bullshit like this. It had, for the most part, originality. Uniqueness. In fact all the strongest aspects of Season 1, aspects I loved, were deliberate subversions of overdone clichés. For Season 2 to resort to this kind of writing reminiscent of Disney slop is insanely disappointing.

I'm waiting for a character to unironically say, "What are we, some kind of League of Legends?" in Act 3 now.

3) "Ohhhhh so THAT'S why he did that!!!!!!!!!"

Also death to overexplanations and giving justifications for things that never needed justifications. You know what I was never confused by while watching Season 1 of Arcane? Why Vander adopted the girls. Why Silco adopted Jinx. Why both came to care for their girls so much, they were willing to sacrifice so much for them. I thought the reasons for those things were very clear and poignant in the first season. I never needed an extra on-the-nose justification for the adoptions in the form of, "they wuved yo mama". It's not only redundant, it's also one of the most tired ass tropes in fiction. To me, Vander taking in the girls and Silco taking in Jinx are so much more powerful if they really were just random guys with no real connection to the girls' parents.

But I've already seen some positive reactions to this flashback with "Ohhhhh so THAT's why Silco/Vander cared for the girls so much, now I understand😯🤯😓" mf what exactly did you not understand before??

4) Character motivations

The motivations of both Vander and Silco are made downright bizarre by this flashback. So Silco was hellbent on murdering Vi last season, despite being close friends with her mom whose death he may feel guilty for? Literally despised her and wanted to kill her the entire time with no hesitation lol. So Vander had that aforementioned dramatic moment of character development, dropped the gauntlets, realized violence wasn't the answer, and carried the kids to safety... then doubled back to violently hunt down and murder Silco? But not before shaving his beard and applying youthful lotion of course. Can't kill your bro while looking crusty. Then he failed to kill Silco so he just... went back to the kids and pretended like nothing happened? Lol.

Silco being close to, let alone loving, the girls' parents makes no fucking sense for his character. Vander knowing them at least makes sense, but casual friends would have sufficed. "I was lowkey crushing (?????) on your mom and also named you" just cheapened the entire Vander/Vi and Silco/Jinx surrogate father dynamic. Vander's motivation for killing Silco being yet another fridged woman is also weak as fuck. First Viktor with Sky, and now Vander/Silco. They really should have left this one up to our imaginations if this was the boring tripe they came up with.

[makiquas]

Its Butchtober. Bear with me for a second as I rant about children's cartoon ships, butchphobia, the conditional acceptance of butches in sapphic spaces on the basis of desirability, and feeling erased as a butch kid.

It's so funny that I realised early on as a 2000-2010s teen/kid how a lot of so called "sapphics" of social media are really, really anti butch4butch, only by interacting with certain subsets of Catradora and Appledash haters. It may be flippant to connect butchphobia with children's cartoons, but you cannot deny it is there. We finally had two canon butch4butch and masc4masc lesbian animated ships. And the fandoms decided that the best possible reaction to this is to violently hate on the ships for bullshit reasons and write up masterdocs about how the butch character actually looks better with a femme character instead (in both cases–Rarity and Glimmer, who is arguably feminine but not femme, but that's a conversation for another day, how the SPOP fandom waters down gender identities for aesthetics).

This is not just about two cartoon ships; this mindset of seeing two masc lesbians and immediately going "actually they act like bros; but this BUTCHFEMME couple has real chemistry" comes off sounding really, really bad in 2024 when you have no idea how butch identity operates, outside of depicting us as pants-wearing sexually aggressive muscular women. Butches ARE bros, even the ones who kiss each other. Camaraderie and tomboyish swagger *is* a part of their life. It's not our fault you are too fanfic trope-pilled to read these interactions are sexless friendship bantering.

It's also quite concerning, given how there are only a handful of butch4butch books in the market, and almost all of them talk about the stigmatizing of relationships between two butches/studs/masc lesbians. There are many butch lesbians who themselves face internalized butchphobia because of societal standards and expectations of being turned into the "gallant" provider of femmes. Butch and femme are not always inherently complementary, butches can be attracted to other butches, there is no "natural order" model of lesbian/sapphic attraction and your thinly veiled butchphobia is really off-putting, given you guys don't seem to extend that same rhetoric to mascfemme ships like Korrasami or Caitvi, or femme-femme ships like Harlivy.

Here, I must mention relationships like Rei and Kaoru from Oniisama E, or Jess and Lupe from A League of Their Own, who have bucket loads of chemistry but still have some vehement antis only because both the lesbians are masculine. (What's funny is the new wave of lesbian Oniisama E fans are almost all Rei/Kaoru shippers despite the show putting them into two butchfemme pairings.) Something something to be butch4butch is to be failing the tests of palatability and desirability according to conventional models of societal norms. Forever.

Again, one may have valid reasons for disliking these fictional ships (what, I genuinely don't know). But it *is* weird that you guys can watch fifty white fem4fem sapphic shows in a year and read 100+ GL with the same feminine girlish blonde and brunette/pink haired archetype and not bat an eyelid, but conjure a world of made-up "platonic" dynamics just because you read every butch4butch interaction as fundamentally platonic.

A lot of you love to throw around Stone Butch Blues as a catchphrase to educate strangers on the internet about 1950s-70s blue-collar bar culture and USA butch femme history, but how many of you actually know that within the book itself, the lead character acts prejudiced and hates on another butch for being butch4butch? How many of you know that she apologizes to her friend at the end for her hateful remarks? Fun fact: when you ostracize a butch for not fitting into your butch-femme subculture aesthetic, you're no better than lesbiphobic bigots actually.

Anyway, here are some butch4butch resources if you are a baby butch4butch and feel alienated by these kinds of weird rhetoric in online and fandom queer spaces too:

Butch4Butch romance books

My Butch4Butch books masterdoc (**being updated regularly**)

Leo Wilder's Butch4Butch writing (18+)

Butch4Butch photography archive (insta)

Boyish² Butch4Butch yuri anthology (insta)

@milsae Butch4Butch artist (tumblr/insta)

This post is made by a trans masc butch of color. Terfs, racists, biphobes and radfems kindly do not derail or interact.