#there's someone else too - never before seen on my blog... who showed up just to take an aesthetic post

[littlexdeaths]

scotty doesn’t know - e.m. iii.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: cheating, lil sprinkle of angst, shitty (ex) boyfriend behavior, some major fucking CHEESE (sorry if ur lactose intolerant), reader is the ultimate tease, dom!eddie, light bondage, degradation kink, oral (m receiving), ass/pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

series masterlist

based on scotty doesn’t know by lustra

a/n: honestly about to dedicate my entire life and blog to @strangerstilinski because i couldn’t have gotten this one done without her help. also thank you everyone who has been so incredibly patient with me, i hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 8.2k

The weekend had come and gone way too fast.

And now Monday was staring you right in the face, and with it— a very important decision.

You spent the rest of your weekend with Eddie, cuddling, talking and just enjoying each other's company. For those two days you were in your own little world together and you honestly never wanted it to end. But realistically you knew you had to go home and return back to your reality.

A reality where you belonged to someone else.

Your parents were absolutely livid by the time you returned home late Sunday evening, getting the biggest lecture of your life after Eddie had dropped you off. To add fuel to the fire, Scott had been calling your house nonstop since Saturday morning, much to your parents' annoyance. But that was a conversation you weren’t ready to have just yet.

Especially not over the phone.

You tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to figure out what you were going to say to him.

Monday was going to be rough, you knew that. But the thought of being able to finally show everyone who your heart really belonged to made things a little easier. You hadn’t exactly let Eddie know of your plans to dump your boyfriend the following day but he could tell something was up.

From the way you kissed him goodbye in his van, right out in the open for anyone to see, including your parents. And the look you gave him as you glanced over your shoulder before continuing up your driveway. It gave him a spark of hope that maybe this wasn’t just a silly fling to you either.

You got ready that morning with shaky hands, tucking one of Eddie’s band tees into your Levi’s. The male had let you wear it home the previous day, mostly because he enjoyed the sight of you in his clothes a little too much. You fiddle with the belt loop of your jeans as you stare at your reflection.

A mixture of nerves and excitement swirled in your belly as you took in your appearance, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thighs.

You can do this.

You take one final look before grabbing your backpack and bound down the stairs with a newfound pep in your step. You can’t help the goofy smile from spreading across your face as you think of seeing Eddie, and it makes all this seem a little easier. You all but ignore the curious looks from your parents as you bolt out the front door.

They hadn’t seen you this happy in months.

But as you drive to school, those pesky nerves begin to creep back in as you pass Scott’s jeep. You will your heart rate to slow as you search for a parking spot. A sense of relief fills your chest when you notice one just a few spots down from a very particular van. Your hands shake as you pull the key from the ignition, taking a moment to collect yourself before you head inside.

You try to ignore the curious eyes of your peers as you enter the school, knowing the events of the previous Friday were still fresh in their minds. And you reach your locker without incident, quickly yanking it open to put away your textbooks. You keep your head down as you walk to your first class, part of you was just waiting for Scott to sneak up on you.

Oddly enough you hadn’t seen him or Eddie all morning, which was extremely unusual. By now Scott would've walked you to first class and you’d be spending your second period study hall with Eddie. So seeing neither of them had your mind racing, and your anxiety spiking.

Had Scott figured it out? Did he confront Eddie?

A pit begins to form in your stomach at the thought, and you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if Eddie was hurt because of you. You’re so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t notice someone beginning to approach you. A look of determination on their face.

“I need to talk to you.”

The voice startles you, panic rises in your throat as your eyes lift. You are expecting to meet Scott’s icy glare, or the warmth of Eddie’s gaze. But instead, you are met with the soft but stern cerulean of Dustin Henderson.

“Me?” you ask softly, glancing around you before back at the younger male.

“Yes you,” he huffs in annoyance.

“What could you possibly need to talk to me about?” you keep your tone hushed as he takes the empty chair across from you.

“I know you think you’re fooling everyone, but you aren’t fooling me.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, fingers gripping the arm of the chair as he raises a brow at you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you’re sneaking around with Eddie,” he snaps.

Your heart leaps into your throat, mouth drying as Dustin continues to glower at you. A sting of betrayal suddenly fills your chest, and you feel foolish for even thinking Eddie would actually keep this secret between you.

But maybe he was just like Scott, who loved to brag about his sexual conquests to all his friends.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell—”

“He didn’t.” Dustin cuts you off, taking off his hat to run a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m just not blind.”

You both sit in silence for a moment then, feeling even more confused than you were when he initially sat down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Dustin sighs, folding his hands together before he meets your gaze again.

“Eddie doesn’t know I'm here right now and honestly, he’d probably kill me if he did know.” The male winces slightly, before he continues. “But I am through with sitting around and watching one of my best friend’s hearts get stomped on.”

“Dustin, that’s not—”

He holds up his hand to cut you off, shaking his head.

“Just let me finish.”

So you hold your tongue, despite wanting to tell this kid that he has it all wrong.

“Eddie’s a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. And over the past couple of months we’ve all seen a change in him, he’s happier.”

That thought warmed your heart.

“But I can also see how all this is weighing on him. You may not notice it, but it’s definitely there.”

A lump has formed in your throat, watching in silence as the younger boy stands and slings his backpack over his shoulder. He glances at you once more, that look of disdain still written across his features.

“Now I know I can’t tell you what to do, but Eddie doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret.”

And without a glance back in your direction, you’re alone again.

Fourth period.

The moment you’ve been waiting for and simultaneously dreading since Sunday evening. It was the only class you shared with Scott, and while you’d been able to avoid him most of the day— it was time to face the music.

When you step into the classroom, he is already seated in his usual spot in the back corner of the room. The empty desk beside him is practically calling your name.

But your whole body freezes when his eyes meet yours expectantly. And as he begins to wave you over, you make a beeline to the opposite side of the classroom. You keep your eyes low as you find an empty seat, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

When you flip open your notebook, you hear the familiar squeak of sneakers in front of you. Your eyes slowly lift to reveal the hardened features of your boyfriend. His jaw is set in a grimace, and he rests his knuckles harshly on the front of your desk.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

But before you have the chance to reply, Mrs. Jones enters the classroom in a flurry. The bell rings immediately after, signaling the start of class. And it’s hard to tell whether the abrupt noise or his harsh glare causes you to flinch in your seat. She claps her hands to attention then, but Scott still doesn’t move.

“Mr. McGuire, take your seat now.”

He merely scoffs before he stalks away, returning to his own seat. Feeling defeated, you slump down in your chair. Any confidence you’d had this morning seemed to dissolve under his angry gaze. The rest of the class period goes by in a daze, as you can’t seem to focus on anything besides the daggers that Scott has been throwing your way the entire hour.

Once the final bell rings, you shoot up from your seat so fast you nearly take a couple other students in your rush. You practically sprint to your locker, hoping to make it to the lunchroom before Scott can corner you.

But you underestimated his speed, especially when he was sober.

His hand suddenly slams your locker door shut, and he backs you into the cool metal. He leans his palm against the line of lockers, closing you in completely. There was no way you could escape him now.

“What is going on with you? Why are you being such a frigid bitch?” he seethes.

You can’t help but wince at the insult, shrinking under his increasingly angry gaze. People were beginning to stare, causing more nerves to twist in your gut. This was a much more interesting sight than anything the cafeteria had to offer. And while you hated the attention, you knew you had to do this.

Just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I want to break up.”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, confusion quickly replacing the anger on his features. You let out the sigh you didn’t realize you were holding, relief filling your chest as you finally spoke the words aloud.

Scott runs a hand through his dark locks, pulling away from you ever so slightly.

“You want to break up?” his voice raises, “Why? Is this about that stupid fucking party?”

You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he wouldn’t just agree and walk away. While you had tried to prepare yourself for what you wanted to say all night, your brain was struggling to string any words together.

You rub your temples, trying to prolong the inevitable but the male could only take your silence for so long.

“Well?!” he shouts.

You take a shaky breath as you square your shoulders, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Dustin’s words from earlier echoing in your ears. He doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret. The sea of students had only begun to grow in the past few minutes but you don’t notice that Eddie was amongst them.

“I don’t love you, and quite frankly I don’t think I ever did.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“You're an arrogant, selfish prick. And honestly, I just can’t keep doing this anymore…” you pause, now meeting his stormy eyes.

“Especially when my heart belongs to someone else.”

If you thought Scott was angry before, you hadn’t seen anything yet.

His hand suddenly slams into the locker next to your head, causing you to shrink instantly. While he’s never been violent towards you before, you aren’t entirely surprised by it. It was just in his nature.

“So you cheated on me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Before you can get another word in, you hear the familiar clearing of a throat. And a ringed hand reaches out to harshly tug the male away from you.

“You just don’t learn do you, Scotty?”

Eddie is beyond fuming as he shoves Scott back into the lockers before the male can properly react. And while Scott wasn’t the smartest guy, he quickly seemed to put two and two together.

He looked between you and Eddie before he started laughing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Munson? You’re fucking the freak?”

You instantly turn on defense mode, entirely fed up with his treatment of him. Before you can stop yourself, you copy Eddie’s actions and shove Scott back into the lockers. Surprise crosses both of the males' features at your actions, knowing you were never a violent or angry person.

But everyone has their limits and you’ve just hit yours.

“Yeah, and he fucks me so well too. Eddie here actually knows how to make a girl come— but I can’t say the same for you, McGuire.”

An astounding ‘oooh’ resonates through the crowd at your words.

Scott’s cheeks are flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. No one has ever stood up to him like this before and he’s suddenly at a loss for words. Eddie is grinning like a mad man, clapping excitedly before he wraps his arms around your waist. You welcome his embrace, leaning back further against his chest.

Scott just stares at the two of you, gritting his teeth as you smile sweetly.

“Now, I think we’re done here. Let’s go, Eddie.”

The metalhead willingly lets you drag him away, only your destination wasn’t the cafeteria anymore.

You pull him into the nearest empty hallway, shoving him up against the wall and locking your lips together. Eddie eagerly accepts your advances, fingers lacing through the loop of your jeans to keep you pressed against him.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, making every touch of his skin feel like a live wire.

“Munson!”

You curse softly as you realize you’ve been caught, and quickly glance over your shoulder.

Mr. Mundy looks between the two of you with a deep sigh, “Now come on, you know the rules. Break it up or you’re both getting detention.”

You unwillingly pull yourself away from him and lean against the brick wall beside him. A glance out of the corner of your eye shows how the male is biting back a grin.

“Try not to infect your girlfriend with your delinquency, alright?” Mr. Mundy gives you both a disgruntled look before heading back into his classroom.

Once the door shuts behind him, Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and coaxes you back into his arms.

“Y’hear that? Girlfriend,” he teases, wiggling his brows but the title makes your stomach flutter nonetheless. “Didn’t even ask me out on a proper date though, sweetheart. I’m offended.”

He laughs as you playfully pinch his side, shaking your head fondly. You lean your forehead against his chest, letting yourself indulge in the scent of his cologne.

“Did you really mean what you said back there?” he says after a while.

The sudden change of tone has you lifting your head, gazing up at him curiously. Eddie pulls you in even closer, letting his hands rest on the curve of your waist.

“That your heart belongs to me?” he prods.

You look down at your feet shyly, not realizing that he had heard that part of the conversation. Eddie doesn’t let your gaze wander for long though, as he gently tips your head back up to meet his.

“Yes, I meant it,” your voice shakes, your nerves getting the best of you.

But the look that flits over his features has your heart skipping a beat and butterflies erupting in your belly.

“All mine?” he questions, nervously licking his lips as he awaits your answer.

“All yours, Eddie.”

Being Eddie Munson’s official girlfriend is more than anything you could’ve dreamt about.

While sneaking around with him was fun in the moment, the amount he wanted to show you off made your heart sing. You had never felt so wanted or taken care of in your entire life.

But it wasn’t always easy, as graduation continued to grow closer the two of you barely had any alone time together. Between Hellfire, band practice and constant cramming for finals— time was not on your side.

But busy schedules be damned, you both manage to carve out enough time for a date at Benny’s.

“The usual, kids?”

Benny calls from the kitchen with a grin as you both take a seat in your normal booth. The diner had quickly become your favorite place for date nights, in your opinion they had the best food in town. Despite Eddie’s futile attempts to take you to Enzo’s, you prefer the easy going atmosphere of the small diner much more.

“Nah, just two chocolate milkshakes and an order of fries. We only got a few minutes before this one abandons me for prom shit with Wheeler,” Eddie teases.

You can’t help but pout, nudging his foot under the table.

“Says the one who abandoned me for movie night with Henderson yesterday.”

What you aren’t aware of though is how Dustin was actually helping Eddie pick out a tux and tie for prom. Laughing hysterically as the older boy panicked over what color tie would match perfectly with your dress.

Benny watches you both playfully bicker back and forth, shaking his head fondly. He brings out your order a few minutes later and unable to contain your excitement any further, you grab a fry and dip it directly into your milkshake.

Eddie’s lips freeze around the straw, gazing at you in absolute bewilderment when he pretends to gag.

“Sweetheart, that’s disgusting.”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, taking a bite out of the fry before dipping it back in.

“You really shouldn’t knock it till you try it, Ed,” you say in a sing-song tone as your boyfriend urgently pulls the basket of fries away from you.

“Yeah— no way. I’m not doing that, you’re pretty sick in the head, baby,” he muses between bites of a plain fry. “Shit… and people call me a freak?”

You stifle a giggle as you lean forward, stealing the half eaten fry from between his fingers. You dunk it back into your milkshake and pop it in your mouth with a soft but exaggerated moan.

Eddie shifts slightly in his seat, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. It was almost too easy to get him so worked up. You ignore the warning look he shoots your way as you reach for another fry.

“Come on, just try it.”

You scoop as much of the shake onto the fry as possible, holding it towards him. The male just shakes his head, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth.

“You know, I don’t know if this is gonna work out between us, doll face,” he chuckles, watching as the chocolate cream begins to drip down your fingers.

His petulance continues but you’re still trying to goad him into taking a bite, dangling it in front of his scrunched nose, inching closer and closer. All in an effort to tempt him. You watch patiently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip it between his pouty lips.

“This level of blasphemy might be crossing a line, even for me—”

Before he can finish his thought, there’s lukewarm milkshake and salt smeared across his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

Eddie sits in shock for a moment before you burst into a fit of giggles at his expression.

“Oh, you are asking for it now, baby,” he taunts.

You are unprepared as he dips two of his fingers into his own glass, reaching forward to smear the sticky chocolate across your cheek. You gasp when the male leans forward, mischief sparkling in his eyes. His tongue darts out, causing a loud squeal to escape you as he licks the milkshake from your cheek.

“Eddie, that’s gross,” you whine as you reach out to steady the glass before he dumps milkshake everywhere.

“Hm, you didn’t seem to find it that gross when it was buried inside your—”

You toss a fry at him before he can finish that sentence, hitting him square in the forehead. He looks shocked, ringed fingers dramatically grasping at his chest when he slumps in his seat.

“You wound me, sweet thing.”

It’s then that you take the time to really look at him, and a surge of utter fondness fills your chest. While he goes on a dramatic rant about how french fries could be considered a deadly weapon, you’re only half listening.

Instead admiring the way his dimple indents his cheek when he grins sheepishly at you, and his hands flail about when he speaks. And it really hits you just how lucky you are to have him, that he was all yours.

So when you lean forward to capture his lips and ultimately silence him— he’s a little surprised. But he cups your face between his palms and kisses you back with just as much fervor.

“What was that for?” he asks a little breathlessly when you pull away, and you just smile.

“Just… cause I can.”

His eyes soften and he reaches out to thread your fingers together. Eddie knows the significance of what that means, so he can’t help but lean in to press your lips together again.

“Fuck yeah, you can.”

You really wonder if the universe was playing one big joke on you.

After your mini date at the diner a few days prior, you’d barely seen Eddie the rest of the week. The guys had a big gig at the Hideout the following evening and have been using any spare moment they had to practice. While you understood the reasoning for it, the other part of you was becoming increasingly frustrated.

Eddie could definitely tell something was up, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ask you in the five minute intervals you had together between classes.

So in an effort to make up for his absence, Eddie asked you to tag along to practice that night. But you might have had some ulterior motives for agreeing. Since it had been well over a week since you had any proper alone time together, you were past the point of needy.

Despite still seeing each other, the rushed kisses and subtle touches weren’t enough for either of you.

This was the longest either of you had gone without sex, so you can only imagine he was feeling the same way. But if his longing glances told you anything, it was that he needed you just as much— if not more. So that’s why you showed up to practice in your shortest skirt you owned.

What the metalhead doesn’t know is that you aren’t wearing any panties under said skirt.

However, he’s going to find out soon enough.

You’d given him a quick peck on the cheek when you got there, nothing too much though. You really did want his friends to like you, and they seemed to hate the constant displays of affection you both exhibited on the daily. So you kept it subtle, mostly for that reason.

But a small part of you did it just to rile him more.

In the short time you’d been officially dating, it became quite apparent how much Eddie craved your touch, whether it was sexual or not. He’d subtly tap his fingers on your knee during group hang outs, or press his lips to your temple when he walked you to class. You found it utterly endearing, but you also knew you could use it to your advantage.

So you could immediately tell from the slight pout that your boyfriend wanted more than just a peck on the cheek.

Hook, line and sinker.

As practice continued on, you found yourself sitting on an unused amp, with no other chairs in sight. The group wasn’t exactly used to visitors during practice, so you had to make due. You didn’t mind it though, as it put you in Eddie’s direct line of sight.

About half an hour in they decided to take a small break, the other three males were chatting excitedly about their upcoming dnd campaign. Eddie was more focused on tuning his guitar, but his eyes continued to wander back over to you.

This was the perfect opportunity to let him in on your little secret, while the other members were too preoccupied to be paying attention to you.

You sigh heavily and lean your arms back, uncrossing your legs and letting them fall open. Giving him the perfect view of what you were hiding… or rather not hiding, underneath your skirt.

His eyes flick up to your face before they begin to travel lower, and it takes him a full minute before he notices. But once that recognition flashes across his features, his mouth hangs open in shock.

A playful smirk plays on your lips and you quickly cross your legs again, acting as though nothing had happened. Eddie’s jaw is clenched when he returns to tuning his guitar, feigning as though it had no effect on him. But you could tell from the growing bulge in his jeans, that it definitely did.

He was grateful he had the ability to hide his boner for the rest of practice, not wanting to explain himself to his bandmates. But you knew by his stiff posture, you were so in for it when this was over.

The thought had you squirming with excitement, and you tried your best not to make a mess all over your makeshift seat. Now that would be something you could never live down.

Thankfully Eddie decided to end practice earlier than normal, claiming they could all use a break after their busy week.

But only the two of you knew the real reason.

Eddie all but drags you out to his van once his gear is packed up, gently shoving you against the back door. He opens the other side to put his guitar back into the vehicle, and quickly slams it shut. You bite back a grin when he cages you in against the cool metal.

His jaw is still tense, eyes darkening when his hand begins to caress your bare thigh.

“That was quite the peep show, sweetness.”

You try to keep your breathing even, but his roaming hands are making that very difficult.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby,” you feign innocence, knowing it’ll only rile him up more.

While he loves when you’re his good girl, he also loves any excuse to treat you like his little slut. The brunette chuckles humorously, grabbing your chin in his free hand to keep your eyes aligned with his.

“Come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” he tuts.

You just continue to gaze up at him all doe-eyed, hands resting on his chest. You don’t answer him, which only makes him more frustrated than he was to begin with.

“I see how it’s gonna be... You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like one,” he hisses. “Now, get in the van.”

He pulls away, and you feel a sudden chill from the loss of his body heat. When you don’t move an inch his brow raises, cocking his head at you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.”

As much as you would love to continue to push his buttons, you know you’re in enough trouble as it is. So you squeak out a quiet ‘yes, sir’ and round the side of the van to hop in the passenger seat.

Eddie is silent for most of the ride, but the tension in the air is palpable. While he says nothing, the glances he keeps tossing your way have you squirming in your seat. In an effort to stop your distracting movements he reaches a hand out, ringed fingers digging into the meat of your thigh.

And in your desperate state you can’t resist pushing him just a little more. So you rest your smaller hand atop his and guide his fingers in between your legs. Eddie suddenly slams on the brakes and your body flies forward when he pulls off on the side of the road.

He puts the van in park before turning to face you.

“In the back, on your knees. Now.”

You grin excitedly at his demanding tone, already anticipating what was to come. So you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and scurry into the back of the van without another word. Eddie takes his sweet ole time before joining you, as part of your punishment. He knew your patience would only last so long.

He flicks through his cassette tapes and fiddles with the radio volume… anything to keep you waiting.

So when he does finally join you in the back, you’re practically trembling with need. His hands cradle the back of your neck, titling it to bare your throat to him. He presses harsh kisses along your skin, nipping every so often. You can’t help but whimper from the contact, your hands reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt.

But he stops you, immediately pushing your hands aside.

“Only good girls get to touch me,” he grunts.

Your eyes widen when he pulls the skull bandana out of his back pocket, maneuvering himself around you. He pulls your hands behind your back and binds them together with the soft fabric. Once he was happy with the secureness of the knot, he’s back in front of you.

This was something new.

His fingers gently grip your chin, but he forces you to meet his gaze.

“What’s your color, baby?”

As your sexual relationship began to delve deeper, the more safe words and communication became his highest priority.

“Green… neon fucking green,” you hum.

The smirk quickly returns to his features, and his lips go back to sucking on your neck.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours, doll or I’ll put it to use.”

You can feel the wetness starting to drip down your thighs, having absolutely no barrier due to your lack of undergarments. His hands have found their way to your breasts, kneading them in his large palms before he continues lower. Once he reaches the apex of your thighs he nearly growls, feeling your arousal coating your supple skin.

“Fuck— I need you, Eds.” you whine, already forgetting what he had just told you only moments prior.

Eddie promptly removes his hands from you, the sound of his belt clinking open has you shivering in anticipation.

“You really want to test my patience tonight, don’t you?”

You now realize your mistake.

But you can’t find it in yourself to regret it when he finally releases his cock from the confines of his jeans. You glance up at him expectantly, licking your lips at the sight of his pre-cum coating the tip. His fingers guide your mouth open and can feel your body practically buzzing with excitement.

“Since you can’t seem to listen, I’m going to use your mouth however I want. If it’s too much I need you to snap your fingers twice. Okay?”

You give him verbal confirmation and snap twice to demonstrate that you are still able to do so even with your hands bound. Satisfied with your response he grins and opens your mouth wider.

“Lemme see that tongue, baby,” he instructs.

You obey immediately and he rewards you by slapping the head of his cock against it. Once… twice… a third time… before he slips it past your lips with a groan.

Eddie’s hand fists your hair, pulling your mouth even further onto his cock. You take every inch willingly, eagerly swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft. His eyes squeeze shut, mouth slightly agape as you take him even deeper.

But you already miss his piercing gaze, now desperate for him to look at you. So you pull back until his cock slips past your lips.

His eyes shoot open and he raises a brow at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

The utter dominance in his tone and stature makes you even wetter, your thighs pressing together as he continues to stare you down with those dark eyes.

“Want you to look at me,” you plead, batting your lashes at him.

He just chuckles, keeping his gaze locked on yours when you eagerly take him back into your mouth. His fist tightens in your hair, another groan escapes him when he hits the back of your throat. A wicked grin tugs at his lips when he feels you gag around him.

“That’s right, gag on it,” he coos.

Your eyes remain locked with his as he continues to use your throat, mascara tears running freely down your cheeks with each thrust. His groans fill your ears, each one sending heat straight to your core. His lips pull up into that signature smirk as he admires the absolute mess he’s made of you.

But before he reaches that peak, he slips himself out of your mouth. It’s too soon for your liking, despite the throbbing ache between your legs. He notices the pout on your lips, now eyeing the string of saliva that keeps you connected.

“As much as I’d love to come in that bratty mouth of yours…” he pauses, wiping up some of the drool from your lips with his thumb. “I’d much rather see it dripping out of that pretty pussy instead.”

You can’t help but whimper in response, letting Eddie bend you over the center console of the vehicle. He flips your skirt up, landing a harsh smack to your ass as he nudges your legs apart with his own. You’re suddenly grateful for the console beneath you, knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to hold yourself up with your hands still bound.

Eddie grabs your bound wrists with one hand, the other slipping between your thighs.His calloused fingers run through your slick folds, and he moans at the wetness he finds there.

“God… always so wet. You’re such a little slut for me, huh? You like when I use you like this, baby?”

You merely nod, your thoughts far too jumbled from his touch that words are escaping you. But Eddie isn’t having any of it, and really you should know better.

Another harsh slap lands on your pussy this time, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.

“Come on sweetheart, tell me…”

Eddie slips two fingers into your entrance with no resistance, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside of you. But his actions stop just as quickly as they start due to your continued silence. And when he begins to slip his fingers out, your walls contract around them in an effort to keep them nestled inside you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” he taunts.

You want to cry from frustration when he fully removes the digits, guiding your hips back towards him. Eddie just chuckles, before you hear him noisily suck your arousal from his fingers.

“Y-Yes, Eddie. Just please, fuck me,” you cry.

While you can’t see him, you know he’s grinning like a madman. Any further plans of begging disappear when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing through your folds. As much as he’d love to continue teasing you, his own impatience takes over and he slides into you with one hard thrust.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you still feel so full. Stretched out beyond belief— it nearly takes your breath away.

Eddie doesn’t give you much warning before he’s snapping his hips back into yours. The sudden motion causes your head to lull forward and rest against the console. Your walls practically suck him in deeper, and he enjoys the pathetic little noises that leave you as he continues to slam into you.

“Fuck— you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Eddie uses your bound wrists to pound into you harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, that band getting tighter as he continues his ruthless pace.

“You gonna cum already? Such a little slut…” he nearly growls, “Go on, do it. Let’s see how many times you can make a mess on my cock.”

Between his words and the constant pounding into your g-spot is what tips you over the edge, feeling your knees wobble from the force of your orgasm. Eddie begins to slow his pace, letting you ride the waves a little before he slips one of his hands between you to gently rub at your clit.

Your soft whimpers only seem to spur him on further, keeping a steady pace. But he rams into you so deeply, you swear you can feel him in your throat. Despite how slightly overstimulating the feeling is… it’s too good to stop. And you’d do anything to show Eddie how good you can actually be.

“That’s it… feels good, baby?”

You let out a small but breathy ‘uh huh’, that being the only response you can muster at this point. One orgasm has turned your brain to mush, and all you can think or feel is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Your response has him chuckling, as the male continues to rock his hips into yours. He loves getting you to this point, so drunk on his cock that you can’t form a coherent sentence. His fingers start to pick up their pace against your bundle of nerves, feeling how your walls clench even tighter around him.

While he wants to fill you up so badly, he also wants to see how far he could push you. It was only fair.

“Wanna show me you can listen, sweetheart? Give me another one. You can do it.”

You nearly sob as your second orgasm suddenly crashes over you. While not as forceful as the first, it’s powerful enough to make your legs give out beneath you. Letting all your weight rest against the center console. Eddie is quick to help guide your hips back up, and stops the movement of his own.

You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks when he frees your wrists, finally slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact, but it’s not gone for long. As Eddie helps guide you into a sitting position, before carefully laying you back onto a pile of blankets.

He brushes the tears away from your cheeks, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Can you give me one more? Doin’ so good for me, sweet thing.”

You practically preen at his praise, eagerly nodding when he situates himself between your legs again. He carefully lifts your trembling thighs, his touch much more gentle now. He caresses your supple skin before he slips back inside you with a deep seated groan.

You can feel how your hands begin to twitch at your sides, desperate to reach up and tangle your fingers in his curls. But his previous warning rings in your ears, only good girls can touch me. Eddie catches the subtle movement and reaches down to guide your hands up towards his head. And a loud grunt leaves him when he reaches your deepest point.

“You can touch me baby, you’ve earned it.”

He barely finishes his sentence before you’re threading your fingers through his wild curls and tugging him closer. Until your clothed chests are pressed together and you can feel the weight of his ribs against yours. Your mouths meet with a soft urgency and his tongue glides over your lower lip before slipping past them.

His pace has slowed tremendously, all in an effort to cherish the feeling of being inside you. Despite how rough can be at times, this was his favorite way to be with you. With your bodies entangled in every possible way.

While Eddie may put on a tough exterior, he’s a big softie underneath it all. And you’ve come to adore both sides of him.

He pulls away from your lips with a small gasp, greedily inhaling your mingling breath as his chestnut hues meet yours. Eddie looks beautiful like this, hovering above you all sweaty and flushed. It's truly a sight you wouldn’t grow tired of seeing. He doesn’t let lips stray too far though, leaning down to press hot kisses along your jaw towards your neck.

The brunette eagerly sucks onto the skin of your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the ache he leaves behind. One of your hands untangles itself from his tousled curls, slipping between your bodies to rub at your overly sensitive clit. Judging by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Eddie buries his face into the crook of your neck, whining when you clench harder around him. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you has your head reeling, already so close to finishing for a third time that night.

“Fuck— I love you,” he pants, each slam of his hips becomes more frantic with his admission. “I love you, sweetheart.”

His confession is all it takes to push you both over the edge. Eddie’s hips stutter as he fills you, and your body arches further into his embrace with a cry of his name. It’s so intense that you can feel how his body trembles above you, and the stars begin to dance behind your lids. The weight of his words finally starts to sink in when he collapses on top of you, blinking away the tears that fill your lash line.

The mixture of your heavy breathing fills the silence and you gently stroke his curls while you both come down from your highs. Eddie must have felt your tears dripping down onto his cheek and his head lifts to regard you with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You just shake your head, pressing another kiss to his awaiting mouth. But when you pull away a little too soon for his liking, he practically pouts. You just smile fondly, nervous fluttering in your belly at what you were about to confess. Despite hearing him utter those same three words only moments prior.

“I just… I really love you too, Eddie.”

The grin that stretches across his face has your heart thumping faster, your giggles soon fill the silence in the van as he presses tender kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Love you so much, sweetheart.”

The Hideout was packed, which seemed to be an unusual occurrence for a Saturday night in small town Hawkins. But the promise of multiple live bands quickly filled the seats that usually remained empty during the week.

Ever since you became official, you easily fit in amongst his large group of friends. Even Dustin, who was weary of you in the beginning, had quickly begun to warm up to you. But you had clicked with Robin the fastest and the two of you became very close in such a short amount of time.

Most of them had come out to support the band, besides the group of freshmen. As Eddie all but forbade from stepping foot in this establishment. His overprotective nature towards them was something you found to be incredibly endearing.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, snugly in between Robin and Steve. Mostly due to Eddie’s strict instructions to keep an eye on you. He could already anticipate just how rowdy this crowd might be from the moment you entered the dingy bar.

You anxiously shift in place, taking another swig from the flask that Robin had snuck in. You hadn’t seen Eddie for more than a few minutes since he dropped you off at home earlier that morning. And you were beyond impatient for the show to get started.

It was a little annoying how much you missed him when he wasn’t around, how uneasy it made you.

But the vodka was definitely starting to help soothe your nerves.

You continued to shift from foot to foot, partially from your growing impatience and partly due to the soreness between your thighs. The round in the van had only continued once you got back to Eddie’s trailer. He buried his tongue inside you while he showed you how much he loved you from between your thighs.

It’s as though the universe could tell you were getting antsy, as the lights on the small stage finally dim. You cheer loudly and the rest of your friends join in when the four males walk out onto the stage. They all take their respective positions, and Eddie slings his guitar strap over his shoulder and adjusts the mic stand.

“Good evening Hawkins, we’re Corroded Coffin. Thanks for coming out!”

A round of boos suddenly erupt from amongst the cheers, and your head instantly whips around to find the source. You see Jason and Scott’s whole crew leaning up against the back wall of the bar, a prominent smirk on your ex’s face. Your hands balled into fists and you quickly flip them all the bird before turning your focus back towards the stage.

Scott’s incessant torment had cooled off for a bit, but that entire week it was seeming to ramp right back up. While you knew your boyfriend could take care of himself, it still didn’t stop the fury from bubbling up inside you over it. Especially knowing it had only gotten worse because of you.

You find Eddie’s gaze again and he shoots a wink your way, not even fazed by their presence. They started off their set with a cover of Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot, already getting the crowd ramped up. Eddie was totally in his element, carefree as his fingers danced along the neck of his guitar. While they played mostly covers, they were able to sneak in a few original songs.

The crowd was overly enthusiastic, which was a nice change of pace from the five sullen drunks they usually had in attendance at their normal Tuesday time slot. While Eddie was riding that high, his eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

“Thank you guys for being such an awesome crowd, this is our last song.”

In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve come to recognize almost all of their songs. Eddie was always bouncing lyric ideas off of you, or playing them for you any chance that he could. But hearing the first few chords ring out into the bar, you knew this one was clearly new.

And if shit eating grin he was sporting was any indication, he’d been preparing for this moment. Eddie’s eyes drift from yours to the back of the dimly lit bar as he begins singing. The opening lyrics make your eyes widen in shock.

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday. She tells him she’s in church, but she doesn’t go. Still she’s on her knees and Scotty doesn’t know.”

Your heart begins to race and that cocky grin never leaves his face. Your eyes follow his line of sight and you turn around, watching in amusement when you notice how Scott’s fists are clenched at his sides. This is by far the angriest you’ve ever seen him, and you can almost see the metaphorical steam coming out of his ears.

“Fiona says she’s out shopping, but she’s under me and I’m not stopping…”

A smug look graces your features when Scott meets your gaze, giving him a little wave before turning back to focus on your boyfriend. Eddie’s husky voice is full of confidence as he continues onto the next verse. That sound alone could bring you to your knees.

“I can't believe he's so trusting, while I'm right behind you thrusting. Fiona's got him on the phone, and she's trying not to moan. It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing…”

Your mind instantly drifts back to that fateful phone call, that night being a major turning point in your feelings towards the metalhead. Your whole body flushes at the vulgarity of the lyrics, but in an odd way you find it kind of sweet.

Once he has your attention again, Eddie blows you a subtle kiss.

“The parkin' lot, why not? It's so cool when you're on top. His front lawn in the snow, life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know! Scotty doesn't know!”

You watch in fascination as his fingers work diligently over the guitar strings, banging his head along with Jeff. The song aside, you really were enjoying yourself. Eddie lets his guitar fall to his hip, gripping the mic with both hands.

“I did her on his birthday…”

Your curiosity has gotten the better of you again, and you glance back to where Scott had previously been standing. The spot was now empty, much to your surprise. Scott was never one to back down without getting the last word. So you let your eyes wander around the bar, but Scott and his posse were nowhere in sight.

When the song starts to come to a close, Eddie and the rest of the guys have gathered at the front of the stage. Huddled together as they chanted a chorus of, ‘Scotty doesn’t know’, the crowd joining in unison. When you glance over at Robin, her grin practically matches that of your boyfriend’s.

While you had never explicitly told anyone (besides Robin) the details of how everything played out between you two, your ex definitely had his suspicions.

But now, one thing was for sure…

Scotty definitely knew.

sdk taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @mugloversonly @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @transparentenemypenguin @calumfmu @vamp-bunny @eddiesxangel @nailbatanddungeon @deathst9r @comeonatmebruh @mrsjellymunson @eddiesghxst @eddiesguitarskills @callsignraver @eldermayfield @potatobeans99 @loserboysandlithium @em0220

[ollimus-prime]

HAIIII OLLIE !!!!1!1!!!!!!1!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ IM LOWKEY SOOOOOO EXCITED THAT YOURE WRITING FOR TRANSFORMERS ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BLOG ENTIRELY MADE FOR IT!!!!1! + you already KNOW who it is — ITS YOUR BOY 😼😼 /ref

i’ve been tweaking so hard over tfone b-127 bumblebae boy bc he’s so auuuhhh — 😭😭 got me on my knees bc my type in men is so golden retriever boyfriends, BUT SPEAKING OF GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIENDS!!

i hope you don’t mind me requesting b-127 with a fem cybertronian reader who’s just his female counterpart drabble or hcs? like it’s giving yapper x yapper and golden retriever x golden retriever, no freaking doubt both fell for eachother the moment they introduced themselves and started to yap together. OK I TALK TOO MUCH, PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OLLIE!!! DRINK UP, EAT UP, SLEEP WELL AND TAKE BREAKSSSS!! Loves ya much :)

Yapper Adoration

A/N, not important: Hope you like it, Frankie. I tried my best. Also, it's Gender Neutral, not fem. Sorry! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: N/A(unless y'all see smth I need to add)

Words: 554

Summary: B-127 finally has someone to talk to

B-127 was first introduced to you via Elita-1. She had met you during her time in waste management, your bubbly and eager-to-please personality strikingly similar to B’s own. Elita-1, knowing she had two loud and boisterous bots that needed constant attention, stuck you together in hopes that you would both get along and stop bothering everyone else. To Elita-1’s delight and slight horror, the two of you stuck together like magnets.

B-127 finally had someone who not only was willing to listen to him, but someone who actively engaged in what he said. Not to mention you had worked similar jobs, causing a bond to form from the toil of sorting garbage and the dream of doing more. You were just as positive and rambunctious as him, causing B-127 to immediately latch onto you as his new best friend.

Not that you minded, of course. You had your fair share of bots who’ve been annoyed by your endless chatter, and finding someone who was similar to you in personality and mannerism was just as freeing to you as it was to B. Neither of you were much willing to separate after your first meeting. Despite Elita’s chiding of you both moving too fast, you had started dating the kind and energetic bot.

You’re also one of the only bots B-127’s met that didn’t immediately think he was insane. Sure, you’ve joked about his ‘friends’ that he made down in sub level 50 before, but he didn’t sense a hostility in your tone like most others seem to have. You encouraged his interests and helped him find new friends, showing support he’s never truly received before.

There’s never silence when either of you are around, both of you capable of listening to the other’s prattling just as much as you converse back and forth. Having someone willing to listen to your interests and engage with them is something neither of you really realized you needed. While you were definitely more socially aware than B was, you weren’t much better at keeping friends around.

You comfort him a lot after D-16’s departure, allowing him to express his feelings in a healthy way while dealing with his quick gain and loss of friends. He leans on your positive attitude to keep his intact as well, and he’s incredibly grateful to have you. He wants to have all of his friends back, but having you to lean on after losing one so quickly makes it easier to manage.

Neither of you ever stop bragging about landing each other, the both of you getting into basic lovers quarrels over who loves the other more. Whenever you’re seen together, you’re almost always touching in some way. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or leaning against each other, there’s not much that can make either of you stray far enough to not be glued to the other. It’s mostly for B’s sake, as being alone for so long really had to put a strain on his mental health. Being able to hang onto you is a good reminder you’re not only real, but that you’re not going anywhere.

He’s your best friend through and through, and feels super safe with you. He wants you to know you’re his favorite person and reminds you like, every few minutes. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[lovebugism]

congrats on one year of your blog!!

for your one year celebration, could you write something with the prompt

“you showed up at my door of all place?”

“trust me it wasn’t my first choice either.”

with steve perhaps? maybe he’s injured (because when isn’t he) and has no one else to turn to but the reader??

tysm lovie! hope you like it :D — steve seeks comfort in you, his rival since high school, a week after fighting vecna (enemies in love, hurt/comfort, post st4, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve’s stitches start weeping a week after the brawl with Vecna — the ones you’d sewn along his ribcage when a gang of demobats made a feast of him. 

He’s gotten so numb to the pain (the constant, never-ending, three years of nonstop pain) that he doesn’t realize his wound has torn open again. Not until his shirt starts sticking abnormally wet to his skin. He looks down, notices the dark red patch blooming on the gray fabric, and then feels the distant stinging of the week-old bite.

Most of them have healed or are starting to. They’ve turned pink and marred over, unlikely to fade. But there’s one gash that refuses to mend, and he’s starting to think it might be some kind of bad omen. Like the constantly knicked sutures are some kind of prophetic telling of an undone fight and not just a consequence of his restlessness.

He thinks of you first, anyhow. Before a solution or a way to dull the pain. He thinks of you and your gentle hands and how you were the only person he’d let touch him after coming back from the Upside Down. 

Steve drives to Forest Hills and ascends the rickety porch of your trailer even though he knows it’s 2 a.m. He knocks at the paint-chipped entrance even though he knows Eddie only lives four doors down. Max lives across the way from Eddie, and he knows that, too. He could go just about anywhere, he figures, but he’s here — on the steps of the girl who couldn’t stand him in high school.

You answer the door much quicker than he anticipated. Ten seconds after he knocks, you stand before him with wet hair and no pants. The damp strands drip onto the oversized shirt you wear. The sleeves of the old thing hang low off your arms, the hem of it falling just above your knees.

You don’t look sleepy despite the early hours of the morning. Tired, maybe, but not sleepy. “Steve?” you say, so suddenly alert at the sight of him. Your eyes, lined with a sleep you haven’t gotten in days, go wide with distant horror. “What happened? Are you okay? Did someone die?”

You ask him all this before he’s said a single word. Good questions when you live in a town like this one, when you’ve seen the things you’ve seen.

“Nothing. Everyone’s fine,” Steve answers in a monotone, still gripping his side with his opposite hand. “My stitches just ripped.”

You blink rapidly at him, trying to clear the daze of exhaustion and the subtle shock of seeing him. “Stitches— What?”

He pulls back his hand, the palm of it now blotched pink. There’s one large circle of deep brown blood staining his shirt and two more tiny patches just below it. “I’m bleeding,” he tells you, as if it isn’t obvious now. “My stitches pulled.”

Your gaping gaze flits from his freshly opened wound to the annoyed look on his chiseled face. His pale features glow amber beneath the buzzing porch light. “And you showed up to my door, of all places?”

“Trust me. It wasn’t my first choice either.” He clutches his side again and slides past you in the doorway, walking into your trailer, mostly uninvited. 

He knows your parents aren’t around. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been able to bond over. You grew up mostly alone and learned to raise yourselves accordingly. So it’s not totally surprising to find your trailer dripping with girlhood — tiny trinkets, movie posters, half-alive plants, and vibrant colors. More of a home than his empty mansion ever was.

“Why don’t you just go to the E.R.?” you ask and shut the door behind you. You have to lean your body weight against it and press really hard — or else it won’t close fully, and the wind kicks it open while you’re sleeping, and you wake up to a family of raccoons ravaging the candy bowl on your coffee table.

Steve huffs and sits on your grass-green couch, face scrunching at the distant stinging along his ribcage. “Because I don’t know how to tell people that potentially rabid demobats took a pound of flesh outta me,” he sasses.

You shake your head. “If you get blood on my sofa, Harrington, I swear to god…” you mumble and sit down beside him. 

You lift the hem of his shirt to assess the damage, knuckles skimming warm along his golden side.

Most of the bites scattered along his ribs are healing now. They’re small and shallow and turning slowly pink instead of scarlet red. But there’s one still pulsing crimson, the only one deep enough to need stitches. The only one refusing to heal. 

The sight of the raw, throbbing wound makes your stomach writhe. You remember pulling the stubborn demobat off of him by its tail. You feel the sting of his pain even now, like it’s your own.

Steve watches your face the whole time. He decides to base his pain on how you look at him, whether you shrug it off or grimace in disgust. You do neither. Your eyes dart over his skin, glimmering with concentration, as your fingers brush his aching side with a gentleness he didn’t think was possible.

His brows pinch at your lack of response. He tilts his chin to his chest and ducks his gaze to look at you, honey eyes eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it bad?”

“Well… It’s not good,” you conclude after a few moments.

“That’s such a non-answer,” he scoffs, dropping his head to the back of the couch to watch you walk into the kitchen. 

You disappear behind a wall for a few moments. The distant clattering of something, muffled as you dig inside cabinets, fills the empty trailer. 

You’re back in thirty seconds, tops, with the first aid kit you’ve been a stickler about keeping restocked. ‘Cause Steve isn’t your first patient since coming back home. He’s not your second, either. 

It was Eddie first, for his own demobat bites, and then Lucas when the cut along his swollen cheek split open again.

You’re not cut out for any of it. Not professionally, anyway. You only know how to do sutures because of Mr. Mundy’s ninth-grade health class.

You return to Steve’s side and begin to clean up the bite, lest an infection spread and Vecna take him out from beyond the grave. 

The burn of the alcohol makes him wince. “Ow,” Steve whispers under his breath, a subtle pout scrunching his features.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you laugh.

“I’m injured— You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“You’ve been through three separate concussions and a thousand demobat bites. I think you can handle a little sting, Harrington.”

Steve tilts his cheek to his shoulder, squinting his twinkling eyes and flashing you a lopsided smile. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing your bedside manner is— ow!”

You start stitching him up without warning. You make it look easy despite having no real idea what you’re doing. Steve figures it’s because you’re a natural at taking care of people. Sometimes he thinks that’s the only reason all of you managed to make it out of the Upside Down in the first place.

“All done,” you murmur after you’ve knotted the last stitch.

“Thanks…” He tries to sit up again. The sting hasn’t yet left him. It’s less of a pain now, and more of a  warning — the thin sutures screaming as they threaten to snap.

“If you don’t move around so much, they won’t pull. Again.”

“Is that the rule?” he teases.

“Yeah. That’s the rule— the don’t be stupid rule.”

Steve takes a sharp breath in and rises. He’s prepared for the ache, so it burns less this time. He sees you reach for him in the corner of his eye, hands darting out to help him and then shooting down again when you decide against it. 

He wouldn’t have minded if you had. He would’ve made fun of you for it, obviously, but he wouldn’t have minded.

He’s been missing the warmth of your touch more and more since the Upside Down — back when he laid mostly limp on the arid ground of a desolate land, when you cradled his body to shield him from the bats flying overhead. 

He stopped feeling scared when you held him. He thought it was because he was dying, but now he knows it was because of you. The healing in your touch. It’s like the amber glow of streetlamps in the dead of night, or sunsets that paint the whole world pink. Being touched by you is like dancing in summer rain and running through a field of wildflowers.

“Sorry, for uh— for keeping you up,” Steve apologizes and inches towards the door.

You follow close behind him, with an urgency that borders between letting him out and keeping him in. “It’s— It’s fine,” you stammer, then laugh at yourself. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Steve asks, an inquisitive swirl to his scruffy features.

He turns around to face you more, his sneakers melting into the plush of your rug. Your hand gets clammy and tightens around the rusted doorknob when he looks down at you — with his eyes made of velvet and his mouth made of flower petals. His face is so hardened, but he looks at you so softly anyway.

“No,” you confess with a soft shrug. “I mean— after everything, I don’t know how anyone is. I was with Eddie earlier, and the fucker was passed out before ten.”

Steve breathes a sharp laugh through his nose. His plush lips curl into a crooked smile. “He deserves the sleep, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“And so do you.”

“I know,” you grin, equal parts bitter and genuine. “But I’m not getting any.”

“Me neither,” Steve confesses, exhaling so deep it makes his chest deflate.

The two of you linger in place for a long, long time. Both of your mouths curl to say the same things — let’s grieve together, let’s wait for the sun to rise so the nightmares will pass — but neither of you is brave enough to say them out loud.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve nods, finally.

You wrench open the door for him, pulling extra hard when it jams. “The next time you pull your stitches?” you joke, smiling like you’re not grieved to watch him walk into the empty night alone.

Steve grins like he’s not mourning, too. “Probably,” he scoffs.

Maybe before that, he hopes, healed again as he walks to his car. Maybe I’ll be brave enough soon.

[sadesluvr]

Ōrālis 

Dr Jonathan Crane was a man of great restraint, but he wouldn’t hold himself back from indulging in your self-gratification. 

A/N: I’ve been secretly obsessed with Crane for a while, and just had to make something based off this post! Vaguely dark content (it’s Crane) so please read the tags before proceeding. Minors + ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 3.1K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Manipulation / Power play / Misogyny / Abuse of power / Dom + Sub elements / Masturbation (fem + afab anatomy) / Scientific terminology / Dialogue heavy / Crane being weird and unsettling (canon) / Reader is wearing a skirt for logistic purposes

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

You never knew why you even bothered to show up to your sessions early anymore.  

Before your previous therapist, Dr Spencer, had retired, you’d used the time to gather your thoughts, perhaps flick through the contents of the random assortment of magazines on the waiting room table, but never to actively contemplate dropping the process entirely whilst staring at a clock, wishing you were anywhere else. Wringing your hands, you shifted uncomfortably on the bench as you tried to suppress the painfully familiar feeling of bile rising to your throat. It was all Dr Crane’s - the Dr Jonathan Crane famed for his work at Arkham – fault, being an uptight, anti-social excuse of a psychiatrist, who, technically, shouldn’t have been treating you regardless. His mutual discontent for the matter was all too obvious, his blunt and borderline disinterested demeanour making you feel that your every thought, choice and emotion was a mistake. 

You’d had a painfully exhausting week, from closing deadlines at your job to your cousins’ wedding plans leaving you feeling like you were on the brink of a breakdown. To make things worse, your bus had broken down on the way in, forcing you to walk four blocks of grimy Gotham streets in the rain. 

Once the door opened – right on the hour at 5PM as usual – you felt like you wanted to die. 

“Might I remind you that this is your time,” his smooth, yet commanding voice said. “If you’d like to waste it, then be my guest.” 

You huffed and shifted in your seat, making small circles with your foot as you held back a frown. If it wasn’t his personality that made things uncomfortable, then it certainly was the fact that he was handsome; rather painfully so for someone in his position. He had dark hair, plump pink lips and a chiselled jaw, all of which were spectacular together but couldn’t compare to his eyes; striking, intense and a sharp blue. His eyes, whilst his best feature, was certainly one of the pitfalls of being in an enclosed room with him. They were always watching; staring into your soul and taking you apart, piece by piece, limb by limb. 

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose before pointing your hand at him in a vaguely accusatory manner. 

“Look, Doctor, I’ve had a long week. Can you spare being snarky for at least a minute?” 

“Interesting that you characterise my frankness as ‘snarky’, Miss L/N,” he said, unmoved by your tone. “It seems like you’re not used to people being direct with you.” 

“I have been, remember? You’ve been treating me for two months now.” You replied sarcastically. 

“Yes, and I haven’t seen much progress,” he said flippantly, pausing to flick through a notebook before looking back up at you. “I suppose I’m now inclined to ask how you are.” 

“I’m amazing,” you said pointedly. “Luck is on my side. I walked here because the bus broke down. Not to mention the fact that I’m four days out from my deadline at work, and I’m probably going to be sick for all of them because of the weather. And my cousin’s wedding is in a month and we still haven’t gotten invitations out, so God knows —“ 

Crane made a small humming sound that stopped your rambling, a small smirk on his face as he did. 

“Did I say something?” You frowned. This man was so self-assured that he found menial, everyday things like this amusing. He probably pitied you.  

“It’s clear to me that you’re doing a lot for other people,” he said. “Work is completely understandable, but preparing a wedding is not. You’re not under any obligation to do this.” 

You blinked, brows furrowing in confusion as you tried to make sense of what he’d said. His lips were folded into a straight line as he watched you unscramble your thoughts, his oh-so powerful gaze making you feel as if you were a blathering idiot. 

“She’s part of my family,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Family help each-other…” 

He angled his head in a small nod. “From my understanding, yes; with aspects such as parenting and homemaking.” 

“Marriage is a kind of homemaking. It’s very common for families across cultures to be involved in matrimony.” You shrugged. 

“Then, what do you suggest you do?” Dr Crane said matter of factly. “Slave over fickle things like necklines and bouquets? What do you gain from torturing yourself in this process?” 

“It’s not about me, it’s about my cousin. She deserves to be happy.” You said through gritted teeth, now inexplicably becoming heated. It was clear that he wasn’t one who had many friends – if any – and a relationship with relatives seemed out of the question.  

“That statement is almost entirely untrue,” Crane said bluntly, brow raised as he cocked his head in a knowing manner. “We as humans are made to be self-serving. I’m not denying that one such as your relative does not deserve to be happy, more that you want something from making her that way.” 

You scoffed. “Are you asking me or telling me?” 

He didn’t answer, but merely swallowed, breaking his gaze with you to look around the room cooly before focusing back on you.  

“I say this because it’s not uncommon for women to experience envy in these positions. Some have the fickle idea that their assistance in the process will bring themselves further along to matrimony,” he stated. “Thus, your apparent stress on the matter paired with your reaction to my previous statement about familial obligation gives me reason to think that you’re particularly jealous of this cousin.” 

You scoffed. 

“That is not true.” 

Crane hummed and adjusted his posture. 

“Is there a significant other in your life?” 

“No…” you replied, your voice practically a mumble at the statement. You were almost a hundred percent sure that he’d known that, given he had Dr Spencer’s files in-front of him. Like most things with him, it was just another way to make you feel small. 

Again, he didn’t follow up the statement but instead moved on. 

“I could go on about how jealousy is a one of the many products of fear, but I’m rather interested about this love life of yours,” he said, placing the notebook on the table below him. “A relationship is one thing, but nowadays there are other options to companionship.” 

You swallowed. 

“I don’t do hookups, nor friends with benefits. They’re too complicated.” 

“I see,” he said. “I wouldn’t write them off too quickly. They can be a fix to what you’re currently experiencing.” 

You raised your brows and shook your head at the implication. Not only was Crane making you feel borderline histrionic for simply having a stressful week but suggesting that you were just succumbing to your base desires was even more insulting. Insulting because on some deep level, you knew it was true. 

Perhaps you just needed a good, old-fashioned fuck for that sweet boost of dopamine and mental clarity.  Truthfully, you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you’d had sex, let alone been in a relationship, to the point that if undoing your virginity was possible you would’ve been Mother Mary herself. 

“Do you partake in masturbation?” 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to ask me that.” 

“Once again, Miss L/N, that’s untrue,” he said, exhaling as he took off his glasses and folded them into his pocket. “I’m a doctor, and my duty is to help you. Certain ways of masturbation can affect the mind, and I presume that’s one of the sole reasons you came to a therapist. The act releases dopamine, which is certainly good for the brain, not to mention it encourages blood flow to your pelvis,” he said precisely. “Therefore, I ask again. Do you partake in masturbation?” 

He cocked his brow this time; piercing blue eyes fixated on your own. You couldn’t tell if he was getting off on your discomfort, the vision of you touching yourself, or a weird mix of somewhere in-between. For a small man, he had a tremendous way of making you feel alone, as if you were the world, yet so seen. You fiddled with your hands, avoiding his gaze as you answered to the ground, wooden flooring suddenly becoming interesting. 

“I do... I-It’s just been a while...” 

“I’d appreciate it if you answered to me rather than at the floor,” Crane replied before swiftly moving on. “I think we should use the remaining time to work on that.” 

Your heart dropped at the statement, and you finally broke your gaze with the floor to stare at him. 

“H-How —“ 

“Start by making yourself comfortable,” he began. “And place your legs up onto the table as you spread them.” 

You felt ill, yet there was a painful curiosity in your loins that made you want to follow his every command. It was clear that he wanted to present yourself to him, virtually in a platter, and as much as it made you sick that this was a man you despised, you needed this.  “Doctor, I don’t think this is necessary —“ 

“We’ve got forty minutes,” he interjected. “I suggest you make this quick.” 

It’ll make you better, you thought to yourself as you placed your feet onto the table, leaning back as you allowed yourself to relax into the couch. The hem of your skirt rode up as you did, giving him an eyeful of your thighs and up towards your pelvis. Once done, you stared at him expectedly, and he hummed (one that judging by his frown of his lips were of displeasure) getting up from his seat and adjusting you himself. Nothing was ever good enough, something always needed to be fixed. Typical Crane fashion 

His hands were cold on your skin as he spread your legs apart, adjusting your footwork so that he’d be able to see more of you. You shuddered as his fingertips momentarily lingered on your inner thigh, and you suddenly became self conscious of your clamminess derived from the sudden condensation of entering the building. 

“Interesting,” he spoke, cocking a brow as he wrote something down. “You’re clammy to the touch and your legs are trembling. Is there something you fear?” 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. 

“Perhaps this will clear your head,,” he said softly, undeniably amused. “I’m going to guide you through your fears…Remove your underwear.” 

His voice was noticeably more breathy and ragged than previously, and you took a quick glance down at his crotch, which, if you weren’t to be mistaken, was slightly raised, his usually smoothly ironed clothes now somewhat crumpled. Hesitantly, you shifted your hips up to slide your panties down your legs, quickly unnerved at the fact that you didn’t know what to do with them.  

“Put them on the side,” Crane instructed. “Inhale, and place your hand between your thighs. As you exhale, I want you to place your fingers at the top, on your hood.”  

Your chin wobbled nervously as you did so, eyes locked on Jonathan’s own. He swallowed, and you could’ve sworn that you saw his lip tremble in the process. You didn’t know to be scared or proud that he was seemingly anxious about it all. 

“Now begin to stimulate the area as you would if you were alone.” 

You nodded, using two fingers to rub small circles on your hood. Sometimes, when you’d tried in the past, it’d been apparent that there simply wasn’t enough lubrication.  

Today that wasn’t the case. 

The action gave you a tingle, but it wasn’t enough to make you feel better. Jonathan seemed to sense this. 

“Use pressure. It’ll make you feel better.” 

It did. The force of your middle finger down on your sensitive clit hood sent a pulse down you legs, building to a steady rhythm as you resumed your motions. You let out a broken sigh and bit your lip, your restraint a great disappointment to the man across from you. 

“Why must you insist on running from your own pleasure? I want to hear you, and I’d appreciate it if I didn’t have to ask twice.” 

Craning your neck, you willed yourself to let out a moan, finding that it was far easier than you’d expected. It was just one of the many things you let build up in your head. 

“Good.” Crane hummed, and you could’ve sworn that he had unzipped his pants, relieving some pressure from his swollen bulge. “Now, move down to spread your labia apart. Allow yourself to indulge in your deepest fantasies, and use more fingers. I want you to explore yourself for me.” 

Letting out a whimper, your eyes fluttered shut as you found yourself lost in the smooth timbre of his voice; sensuous, pointed, with a deep rumble. It pained you that this man – this antagonist – was the individual within your fantasies, much more the fact that he knew it. How long had he been waiting to do this? 

There was a slight pain upon entering yourself; your walls moulding to accost themselves to the unfamiliar intrusion as you pumped your hands in and out of you. Your slow but methodic movements brought you a great sense of pleasure as you spread your arousal across your fingers, stimulating your hot sex.  

Jonathan let out a slow hum as he watched your chest rise and fall, succumbing to his basic urges as he mindlessly rubbed his hand over his cock. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of taking it out; let alone masturbate in-front of you. No, that would come much later. 

“Take your fingers deeper,” he instructed, subtly biting the inside of his lip. “I know it worries you. Too often we fear the unknown, but if you want to feel better, you’ll do it for me.” 

You did, burying your fingers into yourself to the point that your first phalanges disappeared within you as you motioned your fingers in a controlled movement. Finding yourself growing a quiet confidence from Crane’s amused smirk, you began to fasten your pace, pistoning your fingers like a machine. 

The wet sounds of your sex filled the room, the shine of your fingers undeniable as you spread yourself apart, baring your pussy just for him. This is what he wanted. 

This was what you wanted. 

Right? 

Right. 

“Very good,” the man crooned. “It feels good, doesn’t it? If this was all it took for you to be obedient, I suppose I would’ve introduced masturbation to our sessions a while ago.”   

The differences were stark; all your spite from the beginning of the session had dissipated, and you were like putty in his hands. He’d integrated your mind like a parasite, a snake, and had carried out his word – he was making you better. 

“Y-Yeah..” you whispered, mind blank as you found it difficult to keep your legs up. Crane was stimulating himself through his trousers, small breaths from his chest ragged as he spoke. 

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Is my voice turning you on? Would you like me to bring you to release?” 

You nodded, an uncharacteristic squeal escaping your lips as you brushed past your clit. Jonathan sighed again, his lips pursed as he fought the urge to do it all for you, just for a feel of your wetness and tight walls. Alas, unlike other men, he knew how to exercise control. 

“Taste yourself.” he commanded without an ounce of hesitation. You winced, hands trembling as you removed them from inside of you and bringing them to your lips. Cautiously, you took a small lick of your juice, squeezing your eyes shut as you tasted yourself on your tongue. You’d never done that before. 

“Now touch yourself again, only faster. Keep your legs up, I want to see you. All of you. In this room, in this moment, you belong to me.” 

You wanted him to fucking consume you. Frantically, you switched between stimulating all of your zones, from your lips to your clit, a pornographic squelching sound coming from your nether regions. Crane bit down on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flared as he palmed his cock, feeling spurts of pre-cum coat his pelvis. 

He let out a restraint grunt, and for some reason it made your loins tingle, sending a pulsing heat to your core. Given the way your head spun, and your vision became jagged, you could tell that you were close, which Crane took great joy in. 

“Perfect…” he hummed. “Look at me when you cum. Can you feel yourself lose control? This is what you needed, wasn’t it, you silly whore? Give yourself to me. All of it…” 

Had you been in a clear state of mind, you would’ve taken that as a threat, but in your bout of ecstasy it was hard to not be intoxicated by the idea. His voice was so soothing, so controlled and yet menacing that you felt like you’d sold your soul to the devil himself. Perhaps in a way, you had. 

Your legs were overcome by the force of your orgasm, quivering as you found it difficult to stay still. Squeezing your legs shut, you came around your fingers with a cry, your fluids spurting around your fingers and trickling onto your thigh and seeping down your legs.  

It felt impossible to come down from your own palpitations, and Crane’s stare was far from useful in relieving your anxieties. The man had barely moved, but he looked somewhat flummoxed, his hair slightly curly and tousled from sweat, whilst his pink lips looked raw, as if he’d been gnawing on them. 

Had he cum? Had he enjoyed this at all? Oh God, you were wondering if your therapist had cum from your private masturbation. 

The reality of what you’d done was coming back to you now, and you truly didn’t know what to think. You wanted to stay; to be petted and showered with praise for your show, and yet run and hide completely. You’d only known him for two months. 

And. He. Was. Your. Therapist.  

And so, you found yourself glancing back up at the time again.  

“That was…quite something,” Crane said slowly, clearing his throat as he nonchalantly polished off his glasses before putting them on. “I assume you’re feeling better now. I think I’d like to integrate this into our future sessions, starting with next week,” 

There was his usual detached tone. You thought orgasms brought mental clarity, but Jonathan was an enigma. 

“- It might be useful for you to wear a skirt, something accessible...I happen to like the colour you’ve got on now.” 

[theoxenfree]

FATHOMLESS

eldritch detective x reader | 2.1k | 18+

everyone at the precinct spoke at length about detective arsenè being the best in watt city. others claimed he'd always been there; meanwhile, he seemed to have just appeared one day. more concerning than that, however, was the fact no one ever pointed out he had no face.

warnings; dubcon, alcohol consumption, fictitious precinct + detective work, roughly proofread.

repost from my old blog 2kmps. please interact + reblog of you enjoyed!!

Everyone at the precinct called him Detective Arsené, but they never said anything about his face. It was simply that there wasn't one there, not that you were able to discern in any instance you'd seen him wandering the floor. You'd blamed the long hours, the glowing blue screens and useless eye prescriptions and corporate greed and mixing alcohol with allergy medicine before you finally accepted what you were seeing was real, yet no one else noticed it apart from you.

“What's wrong with his face?” you'd ask anyone with the time to spare to listen.

“Who? Arsené?” they'd laugh, whether in disbelief that you were speaking about Watt City’s genius detective in such a fashion, or that they thought you were the funniest person in the office. “What are you talking about? He's always looked like that! Lay off the booze, yeah?”

Those responses had never been satisfactory enough, going as far to set you ill at ease for the remainder of your shift, sufficiently distracting you from furthering your workload because your mind always came back to the detective and his non-existent face.

“He looks pretty normal to me,” said a senior member in your division, an older man you'd come to know as forthright and virtuous with a history showing that integrity. He had taken eyes off his computer screen, set aside his bifocals and pinched the high-point between his brows. “What's this about, really? I've worked with Arsené for years. You know that. He's been here since before I started. Good guy, hard worker. Drinks too much, though. Just like someone else I know.”

But, this was the first time you had heard he'd worked with Arsené, let alone acknowledged his existence at all. There was no reason for him to lie; he had spoken without inflection, warily, almost accusatory towards the end when he spoke about the alcohol.

“Detective Arsené? Well, I think he's really handsome. He just has that look about him, y'know?” The next person you questioned was a junior at the precinct, a pretty woman with silky black hair and long, blunt nails she used the tips of to clack away on her keyboard. “I've heard he has a really specific type, though. I've also never seen him take anyone out, or take a partner on cases, now that I think about it. Isn't he just a stand-up guy? I'd say he's the sort to bring home to mom and dad, but I hear he's got a drinking problem. Why do all the hot ones have vices like that?”

She particularly enjoyed her gossip, especially if it involved the detectives at the precinct; you were positive she'd never mentioned Arsené before now. As smart as she was, she didn't look below the surface very often when it came to men, so for her to say nothing at all of the detective’s smooth face was mystifying.

After that, you started paying attention to Arsené in a way you convinced yourself was discreet: slowly peeking your eyes above your computer screen to observe his movements across the floor. Always in motion, he stalked around the place with undaunted familiarity, maneuvering the razored corners of desks and blockades from doors and walls, and languidly sidestepped the oncoming traffic of bodies in such a way that seemed premeditated. Practiced. Repeated.

This staunch dedication of yours lasted well over a week before anything came of it; until one morning you found him waiting in your seat, teetering a bloated manila folder on a thigh while bouncing it impatiently. A very real sensation of unease took hold of the back of your neck, like a cold hand stroking lightly at the downy hairs there until they stood straight.

You thought about pretending you hadn't seen him, swiveling around, and leaving in a burst of urgency. It'd be easy to call in to say you had a personal emergency or became suddenly, very viscously ill and wouldn't be able to handle staring at a screen for twelve hours. No one would ask questions because you were exemplary, always on time, and seldom took time off as you couldn't afford to do so.

Arsené’s head slanting sideways and the waxy, flat face pointing directly towards you prevented you from acting on that impulse, however. He gestured you over with a lethargic wave, though the jitteriness in his leg seemed to worsen from impatience into sheer excitability.

“Clocked in early, aren't you? You have quite the habit of doing that, I've noticed.” He greeted, voice simultaneously undefinable and velvety. It wasn't so deep that you felt like it was gravelly or reverberated in the same way a baritone would, but there was a heftiness to it that weighted in your mind, as if it were possible for someone to reach through all your blood, tissue, and bone and press down directly on your brain. “I've seen you come in a few times, hours before anyone else. And you know what I think? I think, ‘That’s the kind of person who keeps a place like this running. That's the kind of person we want here in this precinct. That's the type of person who believes in the work that we do and who I’d want as my partner’.”

As much as you wanted to get away from the horrid sight before you, the no-face and potent voice wriggling around the wrinkles in your brain, you couldn't bring yourself to do so just yet. Not while you had questions you couldn't find answers to, not while you needed to sedate yourself at night because they ruthlessly endangered your dreams and were thieves of peaceful slumber.

“I've never met you before,” you said, giving a cordial handshake when he had offered it to you. The skin of his palm was warm and humanlike, though his grip was all wrong and entirely too firm. You didn't convey this to him, though. “I've seen you around, though. Were you transferred from a different department or precinct? Everyone says you've been around for a long time, but I find it hard to believe I've noticed.”

“Oh? Well, they'd be right.” Arsené said, finally releasing your hand to take up the thick folder. “I've always been there, and I'm always here. Now, that aside, I've cleared it with the Chief and I'd like you to help me on a case that I'm stuck on. If I've read right, you're the most recent person who's looked through everything to update the records, correct?”

“Probably.” You didn't move when he rolled up another chair from a desk nearby. “I'm a Recorder. It's my job to go through files and periodically update them. I'm not qualified to help detectives on their cases, though. You'd need to speak to the Chief about getting an Assistant for that.”

“Ah, didn't you hear me? That's all been handled. Sit down. Sit down.” He waved you close, then took you by the arm to sit you in the chair next to him. “We have a lot to cover. I think we should start from the beginning and work our way through the evidence list, and then the interrogation tapes. After that, it'd be a good idea to revisit the site of the crime. Don't worry about clearances, I've got everything we need.”

It wasn't often that you saw the inside of the precinct after that day as Arsené particularly enjoyed his busywork and bringing you along for it. Most days you simply operated as a Field Recorder by transcribing statements into the handheld device provided by the precinct to maintain a digital trail. The work wasn't especially difficult, but it did take a level of skill and technological literacy to be able to do effectively, more so to be the sort allowed to tail after a detective on his cases and still maintain an overall ninety-eight percent accuracy.

Despite your job dictating it as such, Arsené never allowed you to fade into the background or stand around as a fancy accessory to go with his title. Oftentimes, he utilized you as his sole confidant as he worked through evidence and suspects, waiting in revered silence for you to offer your insight (however weak it actually was), and afterwards only let you bask in a glow of confidence through streams of unending praise.

“Egads! Eureka! Genius! How is it that it never occurred to me that way? Truly, you're spectacular! You're divine! Who knows how long I’d be running around in circles if I didn't have you as my partner.” They were all slightly variating compliments, though essentially all the same at the core and all very untrue.

You'd never forgotten about the things your colleagues had said about him, of his unrivaled prowess and veneration as the best detective Watt City had ever come to witness. He didn't need you. He had never needed you to solve a case, so you had learned to take his praise in the same vein as you did the silky-haired woman’s comments on men: uninspired and shallow.

When your disinterest became palpable, he seemed to only rely on you more as though he couldn't stand to be burdened with the idea of a rift. He had started calling you late at night about cases, going as far to come knocking at your door and walking inside reeking of stale smoke and a haze of booze, neither of which you could comprehend as possible considering he had no face.

“I just don't get it. I just don't get it! Where am I going wrong?!” He said so wretchedly, sides of his head cradled in his hands that were tucked between his legs. “This case, it’s getting to me. It's getting under my skin. I can't figure it out. Have I finally met my match? Have I finally been defeated? You! You’ve got to help me. It can't end like this.”

For all his dramatics, there was something obscenely cruel behind his words. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't have caught onto it because you simply a Field Recorder, just a person at the end of the day.

“Why haven't you mentioned anything about the victim? You're acting like they don't exist, Arsené. Is this about solving the crime so they get justice and the family gets closure, or for your reputation?” you asked.

He immediately stopped complaining and jolted upright, taken by surprise like he had realized this oversight and wasn't sure how to navigate around it. On that glossy slate of a face, one you knew was piercing deep into you despite a lack of hollow sockets and rolling gelatinous orbs within, you could tell he was now thinking of an answer.

“Neither,” was what he gave you. “It's neither of those. Come here. Sit down and talk to me for a while. I can't go home like this.”

The pitying part of you usually won in those moments where Arsené presented himself as his weakest. There was a part of you that believed he was taking advantage of your feeble heart, your kindness, your blind generosity because at his worst, he'd find a way to strip you down and fuck you.

At least, that's what you assumed happened. You never really could remember as the memory was pitch black, his body was unfathomable above yours, but you were sure you felt his cock penetrating you, his hands desperately fondling your flesh and fat like there was too much to touch yet too little time to feel it all. He said things to you inside your head, words that you couldn’t seem to piece together yet ignited the tension between your legs, lit your skin on fire, and delivered lewd, high-pitched sounds to his ears that he reveled in.

He never left you a mess and he never spoke about those times after they happened. Since you were never sure of them yourself, they suffered the same indifference as his praise and the days simply moved onward in a similar way.

“Another case solved!” Arsené cheered, lifting a stout mug in the air for you to reciprocate with the long stem of your wine glass. It was a fragile tinkling sound, a gentle vibration up your fingers and into your wrist as you toasted his success. “I couldn't have done it without you, my beloved partner! If it's you and I, I could do this forever.”

You swirled the liquid inside; a light and dry, raspberry and vaguely earthy smell wafted up your nostrils before you tasted it and let your cheeks pucker. As you drank, you watched as Arsené lifted the stout towards the expanse of taut, clear skin that should've been his face, and saw liquid inside empty into nowhere.

[modifiedmonster]

Jealous Friends/Enemies in love - 60 Prompts

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"Oh, look who's here, playing the doting friend as always."

"I see you've found a new source of entertainment. Trying to replace me?"

"Don't think I didn't notice how cozy you've become with them."

"How convenient, showing up whenever they need you."

"You've been spending quite a lot of time with them lately. Anything you'd like to share?"

"I never realized how protective you are of them. Almost like you have something to hide."

"I can't help but wonder if you're just using them to make me jealous."

"You're always so quick to defend them. What's the real reason behind your loyalty?"

"You seem to light up around them. Is there something more going on?"

"Are you trying to make me believe you're not interested? Because I'm not buying it."

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the friend who's been pushed aside for someone new."

"You're good at pretending, aren't you? Pretending that you're not hopelessly in love with them."

"It's funny how you get so defensive when I bring up their name."

"I saw the way they looked at you. Do you really think they're just a friend?"

"I thought we had something special, but it seems like you're moving on."

"I've noticed how much they make you smile. Is that why you're always 'busy' with them?"

"Don't act innocent. You know exactly what you're doing."

"You're always so eager to please them. What lengths will you go to?"

"I thought rivalry was our thing, but it seems like you've found a new obsession."

"I can't help but wonder what they offer that I don't."

"You never cared this much before. Why now?"

"You've changed since you started spending time with them. Is it because of their influence?"

"Funny how you're so quick to dismiss my concerns. Afraid I'll hit too close to home?"

"I've seen the way you watch them when you think no one's looking."

"Is it just me, or do you get a little too possessive around them?"

"I thought we were enemies, but it seems like you're my biggest rival for their attention."

"You're always so eager to prove yourself to them. Why is that?"

"They're lucky to have a friend like you. Or is there more to it than that?"

"You're always on their side, even when they're clearly in the wrong."

"I can't help but wonder what it would take for you to admit your feelings for them."

"Did you just show up conveniently, or is this another act in your never-ending drama?"

"I see you've got a new favorite person to save. Is it my turn to be worried?"

"Frequent hangouts with them, huh? Trying to win the award for 'Most Supportive'?"

"You're awfully invested in their life lately. What's the fascination?"

"Funny how you always seem to pop up when they're around."

"So, how long has this new 'friendship' been going on?"

"Oh, don't mind me – I'm just the one you used to spend all your time with."

"You've been on their side more than you've ever been on mine."

"Seeing you light up around them is... interesting."

"Either I'm blind, or there's something brewing between you two."

"I thought we were supposed to be partners in crime, but it seems you've moved on."

"Don't think I didn't notice the shift in your priorities."

"I'm not naive – I can tell when you're trying to impress them."

"Caught their attention, have you? Tell me all about it."

"You seem to be their personal bodyguard these days. What's the deal?"

"Funny how they've turned into your favorite topic of conversation."

"Oh, it's a competition now? Trying to win their undivided attention?"

"I thought rivalry was our thing. Now it's turned into something... else?"

"I've seen that look before. What's cooking between you two?"

"You're quick to get defensive when their name comes up. Interesting."

"Why the sudden need to play the hero for them?"

"They've managed to change you – and not necessarily for the better."

"You're acting like you've got a secret you're not sharing."

"You've been practicing your 'innocent' look whenever they're around, huh?"

"Trying to deny it? I've seen the sparks between you two."

"Enemies turned allies? Or is it something more than that?"

"I've been around long enough to know when someone's trying to replace me."

"There's something different about you – is it them?"

"You're almost too eager to be in their good books. What's the motivation?"

"Do they even know how much energy you're spending on their behalf?"

© ModifiedUchiha 2023 ★ Feel free to use them for inspiration , but give credit if adding to a list ★

[dangerpronebuddie]

Hiiii Maggie 💕💕💕

😭😭😭😭😭 and 🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁

Happy writing!

-❤️🪐

Hiiii Saturn 💕💕💕

Verbal Abuse:

“You can't just barge in and expect us to immediately-” “Can't I?” Eddie scoffs. “You didn't hesitate to do the same to me.” “He's our grandson,” Helena says. “He needed us.” “And I'm your son,” Eddie hisses. “I needed you, too.” And that seems to be the story of his life. He's never been their priority. Never been someone they worry about. At this point, he doesn't even know if he wants them to worry about him. He's never been anyone's baby. Why start now?

Everything Comes Out Teenage Petulance:

He realizes what he's done as soon as he collides with Eddie. A stone settles in his stomach as Eddie lands hard with a yip. A faint crack reaches Buck's ears. That deja vu sense slams into him again as Eddie curls in on himself with a groan. Chim, Tommy, and the others they'd been playing with immediately rush to Eddie's aid. Buck can't move. He can't make his legs work, let alone his mouth to even say sorry. Eddie rolls on his back and looks up at Buck, his face contorted in pain… and hurt. Buck's stomach lurches. He's seen that look before. Too vivid to be a dream. He's lived this week before. The awkward flirting at the hangar, the nausea at the call with Ravi, the stupid and embarrassing attempts to get Eddie away from Tommy. Even this horrible game. Right down to that expression. He's lived all of this before. And, like the last time, he's rooted to the spot. He should move, he wants to move, he needs to move. He just hurt his best friend, and for what? He doesn't even know why he hit him.

Make me write! 🩷

Also using this as my Several Sentences Sunday!!

Tagged by @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley who both shared AMAZING stuff y'all should show some love!! 💚💜

Absolutely no pressure tagging:

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @tizniz @loveyouanyway

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @thekristen999

@actuallyitsellie @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny

@misshiss727 @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @traumabuddies @epicbuddieficrecs @elvensorceress @disasterbuck

@tofanasmuse @gnoeltop and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Yautja X Reader who has stretch marks

I believe someone else has written this prompt before but I've only seen one other before so I wanted to make one too as I really loved what they wrote. Recently I've been working on accepting my stretch marks and learning to love them so I feel like writing this can help me and hopefully other people too.

Warnings: talks of stretch marks, body touching, possible mention of sexual acts, incorrect description of stretch marks

If you feel I missed a warnig please comment or dm me and I will immediately add it.

Minors don't interact this isn't the blog for you!

Contains: yautja absolutely loving their partners body, worshiping their partners body, being possesive space cats, samples of a male and yautja separately but if you want to imagine their both your mates absolutely go for it, no gender specified or in mind, mostly fluff

Written on a phone sorry if it looks odd if your on some other device

-----------------------------------------

Male Yautja

When he first sees your he does a double take. He thought were scars at first and wanted to know was beast caused them. This poor man was so confused when you explained to him that they weren't scars but in fact stretch marks. You might have to spend a lot of time explaining it to him before he somewaht understands it.

Once he does though he will ask to touch them, he will start to trace them with interest. They do look very cool to him. He had no idea oohman skin did that. It honestly freaks him out a little, at forst he thought it meant you were going to burst out of your own skin, he felt silly for thinking that but with enough kisses he'll get over the foolish thought though it does still linger in the back of his mind.

If you wear clothes to bed that show off your stretch marks my goodness is he purring up a storm as he gently traces them while cuddling you. The stretch marks are greatly soft compared to his scares and it's a texture he rather likes. His oohman is so soft he can't keep his paws off them.

If you ever pull out a body safe marker and start drawing on your stretch marks to accentuate them and he sees?? He is asking. No he is BEGGING to let him trace them for you. He has the most concentrated look on his face, he hasn't even focused this hard on a hunt than he is in this moment. So focused on tracing each little stretch mark. Oh boy if you put your hand on his head like he works it's purr city, he's vibrating like crazy he can hardly hold the marker still.

He is in heaven, if he had a phone it would be filled with pictures of you and your stretch marks. He's never seen anything as beautiful as your before. Your mate is torn though, he wants to show you off to everyone that he has the most amazing mate in the whole universe, but he also wants to keep you all to himself and be the only one who gets to see this amazing part of you. Which one your comfortable with is what he's doing, he never wants to make his little mate uncomfortable.

Will kiss each stretch mark of you let him, please let him he will die of joy of you do.

Female Yautja

Stretch marks? No those are life battle scars.

She knows what they are and stops you when you try to correct her. To her their gained only from living each day so in her mind their your beautiful scars gained from the great battle of life and she's so proud of you.

You could have gotten them from gaining weight, giving birth, working out, absolutely anything she loves each one.

If you have them on your hips or thighs and she sees you with no pants on, she's walking up behind and grabs your hips or thighs rubbing them lightly. She'll have a proid smile on her face as she admires her mate.

She will ask if she can rub oils into them, she has lots of diffrent oils and lotions she takes skin care very serious and wants you too as well. Actually she just wants to touch you but hey if she gets to rub oils into you that's just a bonus.

If anyone ever says something even slightly negative about you or your stretch marks their gone, no ones seeing them ever again. Poof. No one insults her mate. She's flair her mandibles angrily at them first bit later after you've gone to sleep she'll slip out to go deal with the trash.

No doubt if she lives with you she'll hide your clothes. If you have stretch marks on your legs you'll find all your pants suddenly missing, or your shirt if you have them on your shoulders or chest. She'll deny it at first before eventually giving you your clothes back. May or may not keep a shirt though so she can sniff it when she's away.

You have stretch marks on your inner thighs? She wants a closer look, you should totally wrap them around her head so she can get that close look please. May do grabby hands if she's feelimg needy about it. Your comfy and she loves holding you can you blame her for wanting to cuddle you after a hard day? No promises that she won't playfully nip at your thighs.

[miqojak]

I'm not a quik-e-mart for your oc aesthetic. Interact, like a normal roleplayer/human being - don't show up to my OC's space to reblog my OC's aesthetic posts specifically tagged as 'do not reblog' and 'reblog from the source'. I actually stopped EVER sharing aesthetic posts because people were so selfish as to never interact, and would only come by to pump my blog for their own OC's purposes (most get mad when they realize I am establishing this boundary, and am also holding them to task for being selfish). And in the last two days, someone has repeatedly reblogged things from me without ever once even hitting like - much less reblogging - anything that I've made/that actually has anything to do with my OC: like writing, or gposes, etc. If you're not here to get to know me or my character, and you're not here to seek out RP... why are you here? To use another roleplayer/human being who is seeking connections for your own gain? This is why I left the community for so long, and have been dragging my feet on being active/ reaching out in the community here again - the absolute selfishness, and lack of thought/care about how one's actions affect others in the XIV RP community.

To those who have been sharing my stuff? I love you, I see you, and my heart jumps in joy at the few of you who actually participate in this community and share not just my, but others' creations! And to the few who have actually reached out to RP with my alts of late? You're true heroes, because no one does that anymore! So thanks for facing your anxieties and being brave enough to do what we're all here to do: make connections and meet people. Sitting in our private tumblr corners doesn't get anyone RP, after all! Roleplay is a social hobby. You must be social, and you must engage with other human beings if you ever hope to cultivate relationships and actually get some RP! The absolute refusal of so many people to actually be social in a fundamentally social hobby (that requires you to reach out to new people) will never cease to amaze and confound me.

There's people on the other side of the screen. Wouldn't you say hello and compliment someone on their home if you stopped in to visit? Why are we so selfish here in the virtual representation of such a space, then? Don't just stop, take what you want from someone else's space, and go - pay a little kindness (and interaction) forward. It's hard enough to meet decent people - but when it turns out people don't even want to talk to you, and only ever want to use you, there's not much incentive to stick around or try to make any connections, yourself!

So thanks again to those putting in the effort - it can be draining, and isn't always easy - and after over a decade of RP in various MMORP communities? I've realized that probably 90% of RPers are anxious as hell, and let that hold them back from the very hobby they're trying to participate in - so you're doing what the hobby demands of us all - anxious or not! I'm giving all of you a (consensual) kiss on the mouth a virtual gold medal!

Friendly reminder that if you're going to reblog an ask meme from someone, you should send an ask first! Or, if you REALLY don't want to interact in the RP community, reblog it from the source! It feels pretty bad to have someone come by just to take from you, when you're trying to make connections! (Plus, that's just the etiquette here: reblog karma!)

Also! Many folks have some rules, or requests at the top of their blog page - and having had someone freak out at me recently in DMs and insist she shouldn't have to read the info of every person she follows? No. You do. You should. I specifically, in fact, only really have one request of followers: to not use me as a resource blog (i.e. simply taking my OC's aesthetic posts and RP ask meme posts without interacting with me/my OC at all.) I do share some resource posts now and then! Those are rather obvious, however, and I don't mind those being shared - I want to help! But part of why I left, in fact, and am only recently back from hiatus- was that I was at a point where no one interacted and would only come by to take from my blog for themselves! It feels real bad to feel like people don't care about your creativity or the fact that you're really trying to meet people and RP... they just want the aesthetic and asks.

So be kind to your fellow RPers! Think about how the way you're interacting might make the real human being on the other side of the computer feel. And practice good reblog karma!

[ilikekidsshows]

I just saw a video of children pshycologist where she said "a lot of parents nowadays only want their kids to be happy, and that's why a lot of kids nowadays has a lot of problem. because they never taught what necessary for them, such as disappointment, responsibility, accountability, how to regulate their emotion, emphaty-" and some more I don't remember, sorry. And Marinette's parents does reflect this IRL problem which should be a good thing because we have seen what kind of child Marinette is as a result of such parenting. but, instead of make this a moral lesson, the show just validated this kind of parenting and Marinette behavior as "good".

But also it's interesting how I never see the so claimed child pshycologist who said "sentimonster is good methapor for abuse" commenting about Marinette problematic behavior, or maybe because I'm no longer followed the blog, idk.

---

To discuss the connection between Marinette’s problematic behavior and how she’s been raised, people would need to accept her accountability for said behavior first. Instead the closest to accepting that Marinette did anything wrong I’ve seen from the stans is the take that “Gabriel manipulated her into it” because being manipulated would make Marinette a victim and therefore not culpable for her own actions in their eyes. To the average Marinette stan, “being asked nicely by the main villain” just about equates to “was forced to do it with a gun held to her head”.

Also, like, I really do think that the Miraculous fandom at large either considers Marinette’s parents as close to perfect as you can get or claims they're neglectful for not suing the school for suspending her. Because, as I said before, the idea of parents who never expect anything from you, always give you whatever you want and instantly do whatever it takes to keep you in a good mood sounds really good. We all talk about how having supportive parents is really important, so no one thinks it’s possible for parents to be too supportive. It sounds ridiculous, the idea that you can basically give your child too much love by wanting them to always be cheerful and never having to struggle with anything.

The reasons for this attitude make sense. The other extreme of completely unsupportive parents messes with a child’s psyche much more obviously than being overly permissive does. Unless you’re actively observing someone’s behavior and know what to look for, there’s not much difference between having a healthy sense of self and being self-obsessed. It’s good to take care of yourself and prioritize yourself, it keeps you safe and healthy. But it’s bad to mistreat others because you just couldn’t be bothered to be considerate. It’s one thing to set boundaries when you’re dealing with things yourself and don’t have enough strength to take care of someone else on top of that, and a completely another thing to ask others to always prioritize you to their own detriment because you can't deal with even the smallest problem alone.

Fortitude against anything needs to be built up, just having support doesn’t cut it. When it comes to strengthening your immune system, it's not enough to just take all your vitamins while staying indoors all day, you actually need to expose yourself to bacteria by going outside frequently. It’s the entire point of vaccines that you need small amounts of a bad thing to be able to counter large amounts of it. Children facing expectations, disappointments and stressors is the same thing. You’ll never be able to handle even the slightest amount of stress unless you get exposed to it in small amounts first.

Also, like, this isn’t new information about parenting. Granted, developmental psychology as a separate field of psychology is a pretty new field of science to begin with (less than two centuries old), but I remember, already in my childhood, there being a philosophical approach to parenting that said: “overprotective parents raise cowards”. This was based on the idea that children mimic their parents, so the things their parents overly protect them from start to register as “scary” things. These days we know child development also includes more subtle connections, and, indeed, several articles on overprotective parenting discuss children with overprotective parents as being overly anxious, being more dependent on others, being involved in bullying as either a victim or perpetrator (or even both) and tending to lie to get people to like them more, among other behaviors connected to different types of overprotective parenting. Sounds almost like a checklist for Marinette, huh?

I used to think Marinette was coddled all the way back during the original show. It was just so obvious to me, because that’s how I was parented and I had similar problems with emotions and I had to clean up my act as a teenager. But, I think the reason it’s never been a topic of discussion, is that it makes Marinette out to be flawed in a real, tangible way that she herself would need to fix. Even before the retool validated all the more annoying stans, we had to be very roundabout and hushhush about any flaws Marinette had, because the stans were using the boogeyman of “everyone on Reddit/Youtube calls her stalker and blahblahblah” to justify being annoying jerks to people trying to discuss Marinette’s character with anything that wasn’t pure praise.

The one thing to remember about the fabled fandom psychologist, whose posts I’ve also had blocked for years, is that they were a popular blog. I’ve never been that popular in the Miraculous fandom, some posts of mine were, and my most popular posts were the most milktoast, tongue-in-cheek posts that didn’t actually challenge the audience in any way, practically shitposting. The Miraculous fandom at large, the side of it that desperately clings to this show and its protagonist as flawless, have never wanted to be challenged. They don’t want to read anything too spicy, they want to read posts that validate the common consensus . And that’s why a popular Miraculous blog would never write an in-depth analysis of Marinette’s character flaws and what caused them, it just wouldn’t bring the numbers they’re used to. In fact, if a popular blog decided to say anything even vaguely critical-sounding, they’d be torn apart by the Marinette stan mob who are just “so sick of all the salt”.

I know these things because I lived that too. I used to dial back my opinions on this show so much, once it became clear that Marinette stans just don’t remember what happens in the show and go purely on vibes and will dogpile anyone who says the vibe isn’t canon. The thing I said that offended these stans so much? “Marinette has a huge support system.” This was “too much salt”. I was new to active blogging and didn’t know how to deal with that much negative attention, so I tried to remain mostly inoffensive the rest of my time in the fandom. Choosing to burn any bridges with a fandom that unquestionably supports this bad of a show was the best decision I ever made.

[erenspussy420]

Babygirl Pose with the House Wardens pt 1.

You read this right. 

Sometimes I like to think I’m hilarious.

TWST Guys who may or may not do the Babygirl TweetTweet Pose: The Answers may surprise you!

GN Reader Insert, however Darling is used instead of Y/N

THIS IS JUST DUMB CRACK I WROTE WHILE I WAS AT WORK

Slightly NSFW , so I’m gonna add a cautionary MDNI, 18+ Only!

Remember this blog is a NSFW one, so please beware! Be kind and courteous!

Reader is coming in with so much confidence this will work. 

Riddle Rosehearts: 

NO

Doesn’t even know what a ‘babygirl’ pose is, until Cater tells him

He’s so upset with you, Darling, why? Why do you have to do this to him? And right in front of his strawberry tart!

Will keep denying to do that scandalous, undignified pose of a man of his shortness stature. Even if you have to get on your knees and beg him.

He loves you darling, no doubt about it, but please think of his blood pressure when you pull your ‘memes’ on him and bring this poor guy a sweet tart.

After the long day of learning babygirl poses from Cater, he would CURIOUSLY do it once, in the privacy of his room with no one else in sight. Did it and immediately felt shame.

Leona Kingscholar: NO, but also YES

(You/ Darling texting: Babe you love me enough to do a babygirl pose for me right?😘 )

(Leona : -last seen at 12:45 pm)

He’s so sick of your shit sometimes, Darling. (He loves you, I swear)

You must really love doing life or death situations, or Leona just loves you enough to not kick you out right there- to keep doing this shit to him.

Consciously would never do this, would rather go put effort into his classes and graduate than do any of your memes. 

HOWEVER, Leona is a lion, he got that instinct though.

Handsome lion man waking up from a good ass nap, sleeping on his stomach, gets up all groggy and just stretches.

Someone must love you enough to have you walk in on this purrfect moment, to see him on his knees doing a lions man version of a babygirl pose, HIS BOOBS ARE POPPING THE SEAMS OF HIS SHIRT HERE. He’s doing this cute kneading too!

His ears twitch at the sound of your camera shutters, he snaps awake at what he’s doing and sees the phone in your hand

“Tch, So you got what you wanted huh? Well darling guess what  I want? Gimme that phone.”

Kalim Al Asim: YES

He would do this actually, agrees with a cute charming laugh then proceeds to ask Jamil what that is! 

`After a long scolding from Jamil, he would still do this for you of course! All in the spirit of fun! Or even not so innocent fun ;) Obviously this is a very private thing you do, can’t have images of the future heir of the powerful Al-Asims come out now do we?

Kalim doing his babygirl pose, decked out in these fancy turquoise and gold silk fabric, that draped over his body and very close to showing off those valuable Al-Asim jewels of his. JUST the fabric. His makeup touched up dark teal and shimmery gold flecks, making the beautiful red ruby hue of his eyes pop out. Beautiful crafted gold bracelets with these tiny jasmine flowers made of opal decorating it with matching anklets.

He’s looking up at you with these hooded eyes, and a cheeky grin. While the original pose is cute, Kalim is taking a more arching back shot for you~! Enjoy his cute ass!

Keep clicking away, this is hot stuff going on!

Take as many photos as you want, he’s not gonna stop you. He’ll ask if you have any other requests

“My precious treasure, did I fill your heart's desire? Haha, now come here and help me slip these off. I still have more for you to see~”

Vil Schoenheit: YES (surprised? Me too)

FIRST OFF WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THE CONFIDENCE TO ASK THIS. You actually begged him for an hour.

He would actually do this.

Demands you hand over your phone first, before turning it off and keeping it in a drawer for now.

You want him to do that ridiculous babygirl pose? Fine, he will then. He’s Vil Schoenheit, one of the best actors out there, and still rising in the ranks, this is nothing to him.

This man! This man on his sheets, slipping into a beautiful plum colored silk robe embroidered with silver tree branches, loosely tied and the hem cut short, so please I begging here appreciate this man’s thighs–

His pose has him leaning towards you, with a slow crawl of a predator, your hands are shaking and you’re wishing you had your phone because you sure as hell want a video of Vil swaying his hips as he comes towards you. Those half lidded eyes with a piercing look, his hair down and loose that brush over his collar bone that peaked out from his robe.

WELL TOO BAD HE TOOK IT.

You’ll have to burn this image into your brain, there’s no other way! (Except if you paid attention you can hear the zealous whimpering of a hunter trying hard not to let his excited cries escape.)

You’ll remember this no matter what. Cause this is the only time he’ll ever do this for you. If you ever asked why he did this, seeing as he shot down other trends, the babygirl pose would have been one of them. However, Vil would gracefully toss his hair back with an amused glint in his eyes. 

“Well, no one will ever believe you.”

[bitchslapblastoids]

Can I ask how much you talk to your partner about Dan and Phil and how do you talk about them? As someone who is not/has not been in a serious relationship, I find it hard to imagine how I would talk to someone about this, given my level of obsession. I don’t even really talk to friends about it. Like, do you talk about fic? Do you show your partner their videos? How did/will you bring up Iceland?

You don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal- totally get it! I’m honestly just so curious when I see phannies talk about their partners who aren’t also phannies.

Hi I actually really love this question bc it’s def something I think about fairly often, bc the tension is real. I am openly thirsting over these men, I have a real life partner, I share a life with him, but I also spend like a third of my life online thinking about the lives of these two dudes….it’s a thing. Just a heads up, my answer got really long.

My partner pretty fundamentally doesn’t get Dan and Phil’s whole thing, so I don’t show him vids or talk much about specific goings-on in the d&p landscape, bc it’s just a bummer to try and articulate or share something knowing it ain’t gonna land, lol. Even trying to explain the tour each time I came home from it all giddy made me feel like language was a hindrance and an impossible barrier to surmount. It’s just so hard to explain d&p’s brilliance when you don’t have some basis of common knowledge to draw on. It’s also hard to make someone else get the inherent appeal of two people’s chemistry and connection if they aren’t inclined to gaf about that kind of thing.

But he does know pretty much the full extent of my whole thing going on here lol. He’s seen my blog, sometimes I show him a post if I’m particularly proud of it/think it’s especially funny, I’ll talk to him about mutuals I’m chatting with sometimes or things happening on here that are specific to and exciting for me…basically I’m deeply uncool about it all. And yeah he knows about my fic (he hasn’t read any and I hope to god he never will, but i talk to him about broad strokes of plot in my longer fics, and he knows i write smut as well). I’m around him all the time when im writing so it’d be a pretty massive thing to hide, plus the process of writing/publishing Bowl of Oranges and its reception was sooooooo meaningful and giddying for me, so it was kind of all I could talk about for a bit there. He was/is wonderfully supportive and is happy that I’m writing and putting stuff out there.

i talked to him about Iceland the other week when i was close to impulse buying a ticket after the tysons shows, and he was down! If i follow through with booking a flight and hotel, he would come (not to TIT just to Iceland) and we’d just make a mini trip out of it. He’s used to me spending dumb amounts on concerts and we’re still fairly independent with our finances, so the money stuff isn’t an issue.

We’ve known each other for so so so long so he really understands my obsessive personality. We’re both quite strange and atypical in our own ways and I think have learned how to grow around eachother’s oddities and be patient and curious with one another rather than judgmental.

There are times I worry about my screen time and that I’m becoming too entrenched in fandom world at the expense of physical world, and i think at times I can neglect nurturing my relationship with him/all kinds of other components of life, bc the dopamine of phannie tumblr is a powerful fucking drug. So i try and be mindful of that. Definitely something im still working on.

To be completely honest about another tricky thing - I have definitely gotten stuck in a comparison trap before, of wishing that my connection and communication with my partner was as inherently easy and joyful and silly and immediate and Dan and Phil’s seems to be. My partner and I have many different interests, so while there are tons of things we connect over, there are also tons of things we can’t really share in the joy of experiencing with one another, and sometimes I’ve held Dan and Phil up as this paragon of love in comparison, feeling salty that I didn’t have what they have. I’ve gotten over that though, bc it’s definitely on the harmful side of parasocial; we only see some of their time and lives and they obviously have differences and disagreements too, and differences are good. And to be frank, will I ever have what they have? Of course not. I do think it’s pretty remarkable and special and I think most people in life won’t. And that’s ok because I also feel deeply fortunate to be with the person I’m with and I choose him year after year.

To touch on an elephant in the room - telling him I write smut fic was the thing I put off the longest bc I was scared/embarassed/felt kind of guilty about it all. And then I did and it was literally so fine. Idk, he’s great and I’m very lucky. I do have to be rly mindful of how the fantasy of it can impact my sexual desire. I spend a fair amount of time thinking about Dan and Phil’s life and relationship and, let’s be honest, sex life, and so shaking myself out of that and remembering to be embodied in myself and my relationship and my sexual partner can be a challenge. This feels weird and pretty vulnerable to talk about on here bc it kind of lays bare how you really can’t just compartmentalize this shit to one tidy section of your time and brain. but I can’t imagine other people don’t also find themselves in a similar position.

In sum, I do have a hard time with balance in life, and this is all something i think I’ll always be working on finding better balance with. But it’s not hurting anyone, it’s not rly hurting me, and it’s brought a lot of joy and creativity and connection to my life, so I try not to be hard on myself about it! I’m also deeply fortunate to have a partner who gets me and accepts me and is wholly nonjudgmental.

I’d rather die than anyone else in my life see this blog though. I have a couple friends who know I write fic and have a tumblr, but only the ones who I know are also into fandoms of their own and therefore get it. I’d reeeeeeally rather die than anyone I know irl see my ao3 that’d truly be the end. 🙃🙃🙃

Ok thank you for the question clearly I have a lot to say!!!!!

[not-goldy]

I'm on a break but I had to jump in real quick on this

Gonna ignore everything you said bout Jungkook- cos it's not necessary. You don't have to go there. He's my bias too so you can understand why I find it offensive when you guys make derogatory comments about him. Like I'm not gonna clap for you or side with you for putting dirt on his name like be fucking for real.

There's a difference between being objective, giving constructive criticism of a person and just plain hating on someone and I'm sorry if you like Jungkook a little bit some of these comments won't fly out of your mouth nor would you entertain them.

And if you wanna get sensible words out of me avoid the triggers is all I be saying. Don't trigger me and then act discombobulated when I act crazy.

But I like what you said about Jimin....

I've been applauding Jimin's supporters since face cos yall pulled your weight and got him where he and the company hadn't contemplated going- let's get that very straight.

I said in my previous post I don't think like crazy was created specifically for a western audience. Nor was it intended to be as huge as it was.

It wasn't even his lead single yet it's his number one single💀

PJMS did too much and got him a number one on BB. BB DID NOT SEE IT COMING. THEY WOULD HAVE MOVED THE GOAL POST I TELL YA.

Yall did too much pushing his tracks to the top of charts. Yall acted as if it was a BTS come back like calm down 🤭

PJMs are soo extra🤭

But don't stop you doing amazing sweetie

They set the bar for Jimin to the high heavens. And we are hungry and wild for his success. It's cool but damn yalls appetite 🤭🤭🤭🤭

I don't think that is a bad thing. It just goes to show people are ready to support Jimin and take him to a level never seen before.

His next come back is gonna be 🔥 🔥

I mean the moment they got friends on a Marvel project I knew the Western industry thought he was on to something with his unique voice and all. Then they got him on Fast and Furious and lemme tell you that's some huge marks on his portfolio.

The portfolio this man is building is crazy!

I get all flustered and tingly thinking about what else he's gonna do and where he's gonna end up next in his career. He might have to move to Los Angeles soon cos he seem to have a place in Hollywood too the movie industry loves him🙂

If you wanna talk about the west then yea without a doubt, he is the one member who has a footing in with producers ready to work with him to make songs for their movies.

Fuck, I have a sense he's gonna cameo in a few Hollywood movies soon and he's gonna get booked to work on more soundtracks and OS for Hollywood. DAMN, IF THAT HAPPENS 😌😌😌😌😌😌

You guys need to relax, be patient and watch him.

Just watch him and don't jinx it up for him I swear to God! Yall be blocking your own blessings with unnecessary rants sometimes🙄

He's on the right track with his career. I genuinely believe that.

And I hope when he's finally ready with a predominantly English Album intended for the western market that hybe will move heaven and earth to give him the extra push and support he needs.

THEY BETTER COS WHEN I TELL YOU IT'S GONNA BE BLOODY UP IN THESE STREETS💀💀💀💀💀

And there's something about Jimin yall not realizing... those who know know.

I mean, Jimin even said it himself. he wanted an MV for every track and they shot him down....

EVERY TRACK....

THAT'S CRAZY.

And I know they shot him down, perhaps because they didn't think it was necessary for something they didn't intend to go all in on????

which is understandable but.....

We Libras are like that.

One time I set out to write a paper for a friends blog and it was supposed to be quick short and easy, but I decided to throw in a few references here and there to make it more academic and well researched- but I had to make sure it was accurate references so I hit the library. Before I knew it, I was calling up professors here and there and going all in I ended up with a 300 page dissertation and my friend couldn't use it for her blog so decided to keep it for her dissertation- so I told her I could work on a proper dissertation for her....

She said she was told she was too ambitious when she submitted it💀😬

When I get asked out for a spontaneous night out, I drive by the store to pick a new outfit and end up getting a pedicure manicure lashes silk press facials, bleach, exfoliate my butt- all for a girls night out.

Don't invite me for a sleep over cos this would be me- literally

We don't do casual so well and always end up going the extra mile and over doing things.

Oh you're sad? Don't worry. A text won't do. I'll call to check on you, email you, make a blog for you, drive by your home in the middle of the night, move into your home, get married to you, have your children, dig my own grave and bury myself next to you cos I never know how much affection is enough 😭💀

I dare you to ask me a simple question- I'll go on and on and try to cover every base and every aspect. One lecturer told me, you are brilliant Goldy but learn to limit yourself and limit the scope when answering questions- yes, I was always the student who never finished a paper on time and always run out of time cos I had so much to say and everything I had to say felt important😭😭😭😭😭

If you listen to Jimin, it wasn't even intended for set me free to be as big as it turned out to be💀💀💀

As amazing of a voice as he has, he had to request for voice training just to make sure he was on track- when I tell yall, sometimes his "shortcomings" are all in his head bless his heart😭🥲

How many times did Jungkook and Yoongi say they had to reassure him he had a great singing voice and yet those were the times he kept insisting he wanted voice training😔

Sometimes we see flaws in ourselves others don't see. Most times those flaws are as imaginary as could be. And yet we obsess over those perceived flaws and even worse, we try to fix them....

If you're someone like that sometimes it may appear all everyone does around you is shoot you down and try to bring you down- but in reality, they'd just be the ones keeping you tethered so the perfectionist or dysmophia in you don't drive you over the edge.

Not saying Jimin struggles with dysmophia of all sorts..... but he lowkey give off vibes if you know what I mean💀

All these comments about him being the triple A guy when it comes to effort, the hyungs using him as inspiration to work hard, the whole Kpop industry making him out to be the "rookie Bible" lowkey stems from over ambitiousness and innate dissatisfaction with the barest minimum- but sometimes that's all that you need to do. The barest minimum.

It took me a while to understand this and feel comfortable with lecturers and people around me telling me I'm enough and don't need to do too much all the time to feel good enough or accomplished.

One time I scored a B+ on a paper, I cut myself for not working hard enough. After bleeding it out of my system I gathered the courage to confront the teacher only to find out she had my grades mixed with someone else's 😭😭😭😭💀

I spent so much time in the study room at boarding school people called me the study room freak and I kid you not I got an award for it😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'm much much better now and can let my grammar errors fly without feeling a need to read through my writings a gazillion times. It's the Marijuana but still. It feels good to not care about anything anymore 😌

He's said he's working on his perfectionism and isn't consumed by it anymore but lowkey lowkey- we love him regardless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bottom line, we shouldn't confuse what happened with Face with what's happening with Jungkook.

Jimin's entanglement with the West wasn't intended at all in my opinion. It just happened. He had had Vibe and I think they just rode on the waves of the publicity from that for Set me free and Later like Crazy.

Thus he made more money spending less on advertising and marketing- comparatively speaking.

Then you have the youngest who had to sacrifice and go last after everyone- bare in mind who ever went first with their Solo had the most organic publicity because it was a new phase and all attention was on BTS since they announced a hiatus and going solo.

With little effort, that person was guaranteed to back some coins 🪙

The one to go last is relatively disadvantaged because he loses that organic attention and would require a lot of publicity to sell- but if he happens to be Jungkook then they would need to do just a little lifting because again- Golden Maknae. But imagine if Hobi were to go last- like some of yall wouldn't even care at all lets be honest which is not fair to Hobi but also the sad reality.

If I were Jungkook or Tae I wouldn't agree to go last at all don't give a fuck it's everyone for themselves💀

See this is why I wanted them all to release their albums at once. Hybe would be over stretched but then everyone would shut the fuck up. 😒

It may appear to most that the company didn't put in much effort to promote Jimin and- I understand these sentiments. I do. I just don't think it's a fair objective assessment of the situation💀

It's easy to say this wasn't treated well or that wasn't treated well when all you focused on is your bias. And I think sometimes equity prevails over equality because in as much as some went ahead of others, some already had kicked started their publicity with other collabs, some had been allotted more of the spending budget, some had high productions or low productions, they all can't get equal treatment.

Jungkook's launch is very much deliberate and well strategized too for the last debut. They took the lessons from the others launch and are trying to cover every base. He went last and so Hybe just had to make sure he went out with a bang. It be like that.

Every has to bag their coins somehow and that's all that matters.

Now that phase one is done. I can't wait to find out what they have install for phase two- I hope it's not gonna be crickets cos they all in Jail or military or whatever 😭💀

[rjthirsty]

Ikemen Princess Prologue

Based off the otome game Ikemen Prince, I've created an AU where the princes are (mostly) female, and MC is male. Several character names have been changed to suit their new gender (notes will be provided), and lore has been altered to work with the new setting and my accompanying headcanons.

Words: ~1.5k Tags: AU with Gender Changes, My First Long Fic, Chaptered, Scheduled Release A/N: You can find this and other chapters located on my ao3 account or on the Ikemen Princess Masterlist on my tumblr blog. Leanne = OG Leon.

Chapter Three: The Beast and the Beast

“If you really want to kick up a fuss, I’ll take you on. What do you say?” The mystery woman quirked a smirk, eyes narrowing at the drunk.

There was something about her that was larger than life, and the street grew quiet around her as all eyes were drawn to her. I slowly lowered my arms, realizing I wasn’t in immediate danger anymore. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, which she must have heard because she glanced over her shoulder at me and her amber eyes met mine. Suddenly I wasn’t able to draw air, my breath catching in my throat.

Wow… I have never seen anyone with so much presence! It’s like you dominate the scene just by existing!

Her gaze swept the crowd, the gaze of a predator looking for her next meal, and nobody wanted to meet it. Released from the hold of those hungry eyes on me, I managed to suck some air back into my lungs. The tension in the air continued to mount, she was clearly not someone you should pick a fight with, and everyone else had sensed it, too.

Well… ALMOST everyone.

Despite the fact that the drunk had let her casually lower his fist, he must have found his courage the moment her eyes weren’t pinning him to the spot anymore.

“You wanna fight me? Yeah? Let’s do it!” The drunkard leaned as he turned to face her rather than me.

Her eyes cut back to the man. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she said with a grin growing on her lips.

I threw my hands up placatingly, “Wait, wait, wait! Can’t we find a peaceful way to resolve this?”

“Shuddup!” Mr. Belligerent yelled, swinging back his foot and angrily kicking at my fallen books, sending several of them flying. I watched in horror as they soared through the air, pages flapping wildly, before landing in the middle of the street. Of course, it had to be right as someone was riding a horse straight towards them.

If it had been any other day, the sight of the majestic white horse would have been a sight for sore eyes, but today the steed that showed no fear at something large landing directly in its path told me a lot about the temperament. Normal horses tended to spook, especially if they didn’t have blinders on. This wasn’t a normal horse. My eyes slid up the animal to the rider on its back, an aristocrat for sure. She was staring down at the books as she reined her horse in, her light blonde hair long enough to obscure her eyes, but not the downwards tilt of her head that proved she was looking at the books.

“Who would be so insolent?” It almost sounded like she was talking to herself as her piercing eyes lifted from the books. A gaze as cold as ice landed on the drunk and she demanded, “Was it you?”

Something ruthless glittered deep within that ice-blue stare, like a tiger catching sight of its prey. She wasn’t even looking at me, yet I was afraid to move, afraid even the slightest twitch would bring death pouncing down on me. The only thing I could move were my eyes in this overwhelming presence, and that’s when the crest on her saddle made my heart lurch.

Oh, shit. Oh no! You’re a member of the royal family?!

“Huh?! Who the hell d’ya think ya are? Stop sneerin’ at me!” Mr. Belligerent Drunk challenged the royal woman. His face was already red from the alcohol, but it was clear his anger caused it to flush darker and he began stomping on my books.

My jaw dropped, all of this was the most unexpected series of events. I was silently hoping that I could laugh about it all later, but at the moment I was half-frozen with fear as the situation continued to escalate.

“I hadn’t intended to participate in such a vulgar side show, but perhaps this is how one finds amusement at a festival?” The royal woman spoke with disdain, her hand reaching towards her hip where her sword was strapped.

The babble of the festival around me seemed to fade into silence. Wait. The cruelty in her eyes was as clear and sharp as her gaze, honed in on the root of the problem. The drunk wasn’t just a nuisance, he was a bug only worthy of being squashed beneath her boot. Wait– Don’t! Sunlight gleamed off the blade, almost blinding me, and before I knew what I was doing, I was moving.

I grabbed the drunk man who was throwing a tantrum and incurring the wrath of the beast on horseback by his shirt collar, which caused him to refocus his attention on me.

“Wha-?!”

He started to protest, but I didn’t let him get another sound out before I hurriedly hissed, “Pull yourself together!” And landed a slap on his face that brought a sting to my own hand.

To be fair, I didn’t intend to slap him that hard. I didn’t intend to slap him at all! At the last second I chickened out from a straight fist to the face because I thought it would end up hurting a lot more. I had never actually hit someone before, I had never been in a violent fight. But I had read about bruised knuckles and broken bones from hitting hard objects, and a skull was pretty hard.

I could feel people staring at me. Lots of people. But most of all, I could feel the gaze of two startled predators on me.

“What was that for?!” Mr. Drunk and Violent groaned as he brought his own hand up to his cheek. His eyes seemed to clear for a moment, pupils refocusing like he could see me for the first time that day.

“You need to. Calm. Down.” I choked, speaking in a hushed tone since I was finding it hard to raise my voice above a raspy stutter from the tightness in my throat. “Or do you want to get yourself killed over this?!” I thrusted my stinging hand towards the books at our feet, I then flung it in the direction of the royal woman, waving it frantically to indicate the crest on her saddle, and the sword she was gripping.

He followed my wild gesturing, and all the color drained from his face. It was clear I’d finally gotten through to him, and I puffed a quick sigh of relief. I let go of his collar and smoothed it out, then patted it, trying to come up with my next step, my eyes cast downwards and not daring to look the blonde woman in the eyes.

“I…” A squeak was all that really managed to escape my stress-constricted airway. I swallowed the hard lump, my mouth the driest desert, the lack of lubricant causing me to give a small cough to clear my throat. “I’m very sorry if we caused you any trouble.” I dared a glance up at her before continuing on. “I hope you can find some way to forgive and forget this incident.”

And my eyes were back on the ground, head slightly bent downward. I didn’t want to see the daggers in her eyes. Suddenly an idea struck me and I gasped a little, “Oh!”

I folded my arm in front of me, and the other behind me and bent myself at the waist to imitate what I’d imagined a proper bow would look like. I had no idea how to address royalty, but it wasn’t like I had ever had the chance. The best bet I had was the brief descriptions in books.

Without warning the amber-eyed woman burst out laughing, a loud, refreshing sound that cut straight through the tension. I was so wound up I nearly jumped out of my skin, but I could feel the mood in the air lightening immediately.

“Don’t worry, she’s not so petty that she’d actually kill someone over something like this.”

“Huh?” I gawked at the dark-haired woman. It sounded like she knew the blonde from the royal family.

“Are you done playing, Chevalier?” Another well-dressed woman appeared, shrugging smoothly as she reined in on her chestnut horse next to the white one.

“Yes,” Chevalier - the blonde royalty - said curtly. “This was a waste of my time.”

The tension began to seep out of me, until I realized Chevalier’s icy gaze was focused on my books, strewn across the ground.

“Are those books yours?”

“Yeah…” I answered cautiously, watching her warily.

She fell silent again, still staring intently at my books, and my breath hitched in my throat as her eyes narrowed.

What am I missing here? I couldn’t figure out where this was headed. The drunk’s tirade was over, I had apologized, and the dark-haired woman claimed Chevalier wasn’t the type to kill over something like this, yet she hadn’t moved on yet.

Her gaze moved suddenly from the books to me, pinning me to the spot, and I only distantly heard the woman next to her speak. “What now? Don’t tell me you’re in the mood for romance?”

“Romance is worthless, but–”

For the second time today, I made a very unmanly “eep” as her sword moved in a quick, fluid motion towards my throat. I held absolutely still, not even chancing a breath with the tip of her weapon hovering just shy of touching me.

But– why–

She used the flat of the blade to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at her. “Those books are different. They’re worth more than you are. You’d do well to remember that.”

I wanted to ask ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ but I knew better than to question royalty. And I was keenly aware of the cold steel touching my skin. Instead I gave a faint nod, attempting to not shift my head too much while I relayed that I had heard her words, and the blade moved away from my throat at last.

I watched in stunned silence as she sheathed her sword and took up her reins again, urging her horse onwards. The woman astride the chestnut horse watched Chevalier for a moment, before nudging her own horse gently with her calves. But as she rode away, I saw her gaze move towards me, and I was startled by the bright amusement glittering in those golden eyes. 

The second they were both gone, I felt the tension inside me unraveling all at once, and I took a great, gasping breath. I felt strangely tingly and lightheaded, my nerves all firing at once to catch up with everything I had ignored during the tense events. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the drunkard sinking weakly to the ground.

I thought that was going to end really, really badly… and I’m so glad we’re all still alive.

“Seven hells…” I muttered, the world filtering back into existence around me. The crowd grew louder or my heartbeat grew quieter, I wasn’t entirely sure which. I felt the sun shining on me, warming my numb fingers and face. After several deep breaths, I turned to face the amber-eyed woman who had stepped in and been my savior.

“Thank you for helping us. I’m indebted to you– incredibly so. Would you mind if I asked your name?”

“It’s Leanne. And you can relax a little, I stepped in because I wanted to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Er– well, thanks, Leanne.” We just looked at each other for several seconds before I slid my eyes away, growing uncomfortable from the silence. “Do you… know that woman? The one on the white horse?”

“Yeah,” she said as I saw her moving out of the corner of my eye, belatedly realizing she was gathering up my fallen books. “But we’ve never really talked that much. Here you go.”

“Ah! Oh, thank you!” I started turning the books over in my hands, inspecting them as I piled them under one arm. They were a little scuffed, but somehow they didn’t end up torn or badly damaged.

And a good thing too– I spent WAY too much money on these.

“You really like books, huh?”

“I love them! They’re usually way more interesting than the real world. Not so much today…” I trailed off as I turned to glance the way Chevalier and the other woman had rode off. Suddenly I recalled how this all started and I spun to look for the young boy who I had originally come to the aide of. He was still sitting on the ground, sniffling and curled up with his knees pulled towards his chest.

I crouched down to get on an equal level with the kid, Leanne doing the same, but it was her who spoke first.

“Hey, little guy, you okay?”

With attention back on him, a fresh set of tears started again. “Mama…” He sobbed.

“You’re lost, huh?” Leanne offered her hand. “Come with me, then.”

The boy’s watery eyes went to her hand. “Can–hic… Can you find… Mama?” He almost wailed again, but Leanne was quick to answer.

“Sure can! Let’s go find her together.” She smiled like warm sunshine and the little boy took up her hand. She helped him to his feet, then scooped him up and easily set the kid on her shoulders.

Wow, I don’t know what to say– you’re like an entirely different person now.

I was watching her, rising to stand as well. I was probably staring. The stalking lion was gone, her predator’s gaze now friendly and almost sweet somehow. Her gentle smile gave my heart a little flutter. Her entire presence was still larger than life, but it was comforting now and for some reason I felt the desire to stay near her.

“Umm, Mis’er?” The kid, now higher up than me, tentatively called to me. I finally stopped staring at Leanne and gave my attention to the little boy. “Thank you for helping me!”

Sweet kid.

I couldn’t help but smile up at him. “You’re welcome! And I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Same goes for you,” Leanne said to me. “Now c’mon, buddy, let’s go.”

Before I could offer to help them search, Leanne was weaving through the crowd, her hand lifted in a casual wave. I’d have to thank her properly if I ever ran into her again, and she sure stands out, so I hope I’ll catch her again one day. I watched until they were out of sight and then I turned away, hugging my books to my chest as I made my way through the crowds.

[citrinekay]

Hey! I’ve been meaning to reach out and say hi for a while! Finally, I got a re-blog from you, tysm!! I’ve seen quite a few of your JCW posts (and also your stuff on various fandoms on AO3) and I know you’re quite the JCW fan – me too! Actually, I wanted to message to let you know that I think what you’re doing with the Andy/Revolver fanfic you’re writing is amazing. I read the first chapter a few days ago and am interested to see what you do with the story. The way you are dealing with some very sensitive topics is so well written, and I love the thought you have put into Andy’s character to give him this dark backstory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest when it’s completed, I never do well with chapter by chapter!! Also, well done for being the first to post for the Revolver fandom, I remember a short time back having to do that for the Pachinko fandom and I was nervous as hell. You are a very talented writer for sure, so I know the Revolver one will be a good read. Hopefully you’ll be inspired with Gangnam B-Side too once we see more. Anyway, sorry for waffling on, but if you ever wanna enthuse about JCW feel free to message ❤️ ~ take care 

Hi!! I've also seen your name popping up on AO3 too whenever I go to publish something JCW-related, like oh there's that one other person who loves him as much as I do😊lol I watched Worst of Evil last October and just fell completely in love him/ haven't been able to get back out of the obsession spiral since then thanks to pretty much every work he's done being worth watching. I don't expect the fixation to end any time soon haha

I'm genuinely so happy to receive feedback on my Revolver fic! Before I started posting, I made peace with the fact that it wasn't going to get much engagement since I had to create the fandom tag myself, but of course I do want some people to read and enjoy it. I was also fairly nervous about approaching those sensitive topics, so it's a relief to know that the way I'm presenting it doesn't feel offensive or tactless. It's always my intention to show the dark sides of human nature and relationships in a compelling but empathetic way. I couldn't stop thinking about the crumbs they gave us about Andy and Grace's relationship after I finished watching the movie, especially that final scene on the mountain when he begs her not to leave him and Madam Jung's comment to Suyeong that there's "rumors that he's her lover." She doesn't even allow people to know he's really her mom, which in and of itself could be pretty damaging to someone's development, but it seemed to me that the toxicity between them goes further than just this secret. They were clearly manipulating each other in that moment when she starts to walk away and then he cries and begs her not to leave. I thought that it seemed as if they had been through this type of push-and-pull before, a vicious cycle from which there is no escaping, and I really wanted to examine what had led up to that point.

It also really struck me that even though Andy is a privileged, wealthy person, he is drinking alone when Suyeong first meets him. Nobody rushes to his rescue when she's beating him and nobody really cares that he got hurt afterward (not even Grace, she's just mildly annoyed!) While it's true that his behavior invites getting his ass kicked, I think that anyone acting with such conscious disregard of their own life and everyone else's might have serious trauma that has never been addressed. Anyway, I totally understand waiting to read the fic until it's complete and I hope you enjoy the rest once it's done. I'll be updating weekly, so it shouldn't be too much longer.

Also, absolutely yes about Gangnam B-Side. I watched the first 2 episodes on Wednesday evening and my brain is already tickling with many thoughts about Gilho. As always, JCW is delivering a performance full of depth and nuance 🖤 I'll wait until the show has finished airing and I have all the character details to start writing but atm I can almost guarantee there will be some fics coming from me!

[doverstar]

reading your posts about your time watching doctor who reminded me of the first time i discovered doctor who, mainly, the eleventh doctor. i was going through such a tough time, and one day i just decided to watch doctor who to see what all of the fuss was about and started 'the eleventh hour.' it was pure magic to me. everyone has their doctor, and matt smith will always be mine. he was great! i loved how eccentric and warm he could be. i loved how he was just so sweet and kind to all of his companions, and i loved that undercurrent of darkness that was always bubbling under the surface of his character. matt smith was brilliant and i really, really wish they'd bring him back as the doctor in some way. i miss him so.

I so enjoy your blog and I was delighted to get this in my inbox. I loved reading this and picturing how you discovered the show; if anyone else wants to share their own DW experience with me, please take this as a sign! Commiserating over loving and missing the Doctor, feeling like he really is your friend (silly but true), is very cathartic to me. Nine was my first, and so was Rose. I didn't know anything about the show at all when I started in that basement bedroom, went in completely blind. I know what you mean by pure magic! I thought Christopher Eccleston would be the Doctor forever, and I was totally in love with him. I thought he was the reason everyone loved the show (I hadn't even seen Matt Smith's face yet, that's how in the dark I was at the time!). When he changed into David Tennant, I'll never forget how strong my feelings were. The revulsion and despair were huge. I was a lil teenager wrapped up in a zebra-patterned blanket downstairs, outraged that the 40-something with the big ears had transformed into hot young hair man. When Harriet Jones pleaded for the Doctor's help and Rose started crying in the kitchen, I was a mess. No television show that I can recall inspired in me such realistic emotions before Doctor Who, not like that! It took me so long to get used to Ten, and even now I still look at him and remember how hard it was to get used to him. Felt like someone had forced me to move homes or something. And when I finally got caught up to the show on live television, Matt Smith was finishing off his first season, and oh, he was so easy to love. Even as an adult now, his variation feels so safe. I love everything about him, the childish energy, the old man movement, the rhyming way he talks, and when he's angry, he reminds me of Eccleston. I'm like, That's him! That's the Doctor! I rewatch that era for Matt alone. When Clara looks at him regenerating and whispers "Please don't change," I cry every time. She's right. We were all saying it. Also reading your I miss him so totally made me stop and actually get emotional too - that says it all about the Doctor, about that time in my life (yours too, sounds like!) Eccleston to Smith. I miss him so.