#it feels literally humiliating to me when i need to reach out to anyone for anything & esp w financial matters but i. dont have much choice

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

Filming people without their consent is a massive issue of not only privacy but ableism that's been going on for many years.

It started out with filming more visibly disabled people, like high support needs autistic people having meltdowns in public and (especially fat) disabled people literally just using mobility aids, but once that was deemed less acceptable it moved to other things. Filming people acting "weird" in public. Eating weird foods. Falling asleep in weird places. Wearing weird things. Stimming. You get the idea. It's no longer safe to be visibly weird in public and that's an issue for a lot of disabled people. I recently had to lay down on the floor of a department store because I had an ME crash while out shopping. Not only did I have to worry about the normal things like people coming up to ask me if I'm ok, I also had to worry about some video of me at my lowest point, when I'm suffering immensely, being shared around as "haha look at this weird bitch on the floor". It's upsetting. It's scary.

And then there's fakeclaiming. A fun trend where people will film us in public to "prove" there's some kind of huge epidemic of people faking disability. Spoiler alert: there is not. Most of the time the people they film are real disabled people who don't fit into the expected mold for disability, usually service dog teams or people who use mobility aids who don't "look sick". And you would think this trend would be some kind of abled nonsense, but it's not. It's often other disabled people doing the fakeclaiming. Yes, there are some times when it's obvious a service dog isn't trained properly, but other than that, it's damn near impossible to tell if someone is faking a disability, and you're much more likely to target a disabled person than a faker. I'd love to say this trend was new, but it's been going on since the days of "the people of walmart" where many of the people posted were fat mobility aid users, always with the assumption that they used it because they were too fat or lazy to move on their own. In fact, the image of a fat person in a mobility cart has become almost synonymous with "lazy". It's one of the things that drove me to get my own expensive power wheelchair, to avoid the judgmental stares in the grocery store when I was just trying to exist, to avoid the fear of public shame. Even now when I stand up from my chair to walk to the bathroom stall or reach something on a high shelf, I watch the corners of my vision for that telltale phone in the air. I feel like I'm never safe from the judgemental eye of the internet, even when I'm logged off, and I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels that way.

Tik Tok, YouTube, Instagram, these places are all great for disabled people, especially those of us without access to the outside world. But it's also become a source of great anxiety for anyone who's uncontrollably "weird", mostly disabled people. Leave us alone, I'm begging you, we just want to go to the fucking grocery store in peace and safety.

Tl;dr

Stop filming people for "acting weird" or "faking a disability" in public. It's ableist, it's invasive, it's creepy, and it's humiliating. People don't exist in public for your amusement and especially not disabled people. You don't know who is disabled and who isn't no matter how many disabled people you've known or how sure you are that the person is faking.

#actually disabled #madpunk #cripplepunk #spoonie #chronically ill #ableism tw #been meaning to write this up and the last post I rbed reminded me

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter16:  Feelings Revealed

PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.

*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4​ for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement. 

*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp​ and @regwishesshehadmagic​ in here. 

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*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp​

Tag List:  @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp​ @regwishesshehadmagic​

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.  

For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.

When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.

As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.

Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."

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

Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.

His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.

Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent.  He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”

You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.

Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.

"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.

"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.

“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.

“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.

And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.

This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.

One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.

He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"

With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.

"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”

"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."

With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."

His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.

"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.

It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.

You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.

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

By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.

"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.

You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."

The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.

"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.

You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."  

“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.

“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.

You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”

“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”

“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.

“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"

There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.

Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'

"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.

You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.

She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.

"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."

Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."

You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.

But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.

After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.

"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.

She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."

John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.

John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"

Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"

"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."  

"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "

"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.

John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"

"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"

"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.

"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.

John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."

“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.

“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”

Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."

John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."

"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.

"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.

To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.

You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.

Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.

At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.

You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"  

“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”

You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"

“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.

"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.

"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.

“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”

"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.

He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.

“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"

He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.

Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.

"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“

"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.

"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.

“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.

"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.

You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"

"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.

"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.

And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.

But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.

Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.

Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?

From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.

"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.

Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?

But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.

Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.

Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.

"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.

"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."

Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.

Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"

"Maybe I do."

Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.

“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”

Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”

“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.

Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.

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

This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic​

The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair.  Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.

He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.

As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.

But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears:  “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”

Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?

He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.

But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.

You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.

And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?

He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.

With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.

As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.

“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.

Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.

"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."

Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”

"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."

Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?" 

“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"

“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.

 "She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.

Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."

"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”

He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.

"Abigail?"

"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"

"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.

After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.

Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.

This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur. 

You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.

You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”

He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”

You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."

Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.  

"(Y/N)…you OK?"

"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"

Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“

"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.

“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.

"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."

Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."

When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones. 

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.  

A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #Read Dead Redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader angst

[munson-blurbs]

So sick and tired of a cheating Eddie fic, how about an Eddie x reader fic where chrissy cheats on him with the asshole Jason because Jason put her up to it. Eddie is heart broken and since that was his first crush and love he was severely humiliated and depressed but reader comes up and not only loves him but fucks the shit outa him, literally he gives nothing he just receives tonight. Basically Dom Eddie but tonight he's sub

(please add him wimpering sjgssjjh)

Wanted

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), dom!fem!Reader, sub!Eddie, lil bit of fluff?

WC: 2.1k

--

“Hi.”

The sound of your best friend’s voice startles you. You lean over the side of your bed and turn down your stereo, Stevie Nicks’s contralto quickly fading out. “Hey–hey, what’s going on?” Your tone quickly shifts from excitement to concern as you take in his tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. Your gaze lands on the bouquet of roses clenched in his hand, and your heart sinks. “Did something happen with Chrissy? Did she stand you—”

“It was a dare.” Eddie cuts you off bitingly, letting the flowers fall to his side. “It was all a fucking dare. Jason put her up to it, and when I got to her place tonight, they were making out on his couch.” He blinks back tears, though he could swear that he’s cried enough tonight to dehydrate. “S’my own stupid fault; thinking that anyone actually wanted to be with the Freak.”

Your stomach lurches at the way he spits out the words The Freak. It’s a bitter taste in his mouth and he doesn’t try to hide it like he does when he’s around the guys. “I get it,” you say softly, reaching out and taking his hand to lead him inside.

He shakes his head, frizzy curls brushing against his cheeks. “No, you don’t,” he protests. “You’re pretty–like, really fuckin’ pretty–and smart and funny–” He stops mid-sentence, cocking his head to look at you. “Wait, are you only nice to me because of a dare, too?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the suggestion of such an act. “Yes, Eddie,” you deadpan, “I’ve been your friend for the last ten years because of a dare. Phew, it feels so good to get that off of my chest!”

Eddie playfully shoves you, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. “All right, fair enough.” He tosses the bouquet onto the coffee table, where they land with a defeated thud. His eyes roam your body, taking in the way your shorts hug the curve of your ass, and he feels the familiar twitch in his boxers. “You really are beautiful, though. Don’t bullshit me about knowing what this feels like.”

“But I do,” you insist, plopping on the sofa and tucking your legs underneath you. “I know what it feels like to want someone so badly, but they’ll never feel the same way.” And in a moment of raw vulnerability–or perhaps stupidity, you’re still unsure–you ramble on. “Like when they’re only into perky cheerleaders and wouldn’t take a second look at me.”

“Oh–oh,” Eddie says, thinking he understands exactly what you mean. “But neanderthals like Carver–they’re not worth your time. You deserve someone who actually cares about you, y’know?”

“S’not Jason,” you mumble, ducking your head to try and hide the bashfulness that inevitably takes over your face. You can still see his puzzled expression, so you relent. “It’s you, Eddie. I’ve had the biggest crush on you forever, but I know you like Chrissy, so I’ve kept it to myself. I’m not asking you to like me back, but you…you need to know that you’re wanted. You’re so wanted. And when you find the right girl, you’ll both want each other just as much.”

Eddie stands there, utterly dumbfounded. “Y-You have a crush…on me?” He spins a ring around his finger. “Shit, I had no idea.”

“Good,” you reply with a nervous giggle. “I didn’t want you to know. I never wanted to ruin our friendship like…like I’m doing right now.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, taking a quiet step towards you. “I’ve spent all this time trying to find someone who cares about me, who makes me feel good about myself, and who is damn gorgeous…and here she is.” 

You let your gaze meet his. “Here I am.” Your hand rests on his denim-clad bicep. “And if you’d let me, I’d like to show you how wanted you are.”

“Oh, hell yes.” His lips crash against yours with a hungry kiss as you press him up against the wall. His knee nudges between your thighs as he hooks his forefinger into your belt loop, drawing you even closer to him. You tangle your tongue with his, tasting the tobacco of his last cigarette as you deepen the embrace. Your hands busy themselves with his handcuff belt; as soon as you unlatch the intertwining metal, you drop to your knees in front of him.

Tugging his pants down to his lower thighs, you palm the outline of his burgeoning erection through his boxers. “So big, Eds,” you muse, planting soft kisses along his pelvis. “How’m I gonna fit all of you in my mouth?” You toy with the elastic waistband, snapping it against his skin. His legs tremble at your touch, so much so that you worry his knees might buckle completely and he’ll land on top of you. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t be a bad thing. 

But tonight, you want to be on top.

You pull his cock out, the tip drooling pre-cum. “Such a pretty cock. Anyone ever tell you how pretty it is?”

Eddie shakes his head, the only thought in his brain centering on the way your fingers wrap around him. “N-No, never,” he stammers. 

You lick a line up the center of his shaft, watching as it twitches involuntarily. “Tell me,” you start, “who broke your heart tonight?”

“What?” The question clearly catches him off-guard. 

“Do I have to repeat myself?” You heave an impatient sigh. “What’s the name of the girl who broke your heart tonight?”

It seems bizarre to say it while you’re on your knees in front of him ready to give him head, but Eddie obliges. “Chrissy.”

“Okay.” You nod, considering his response. “So here’s how this is gonna work. I’m gonna suck you off until you forget her stupid little name. And once that happens, I’ll let you cum. S’that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Eddie swallows thickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.” You swirl your tongue around the fleshy head, using your hand to pump him. He’s growing even harder inside your mouth; the moans escaping him are pornographic. 

“Right there, don’t stop”

“Feels s’fucking good”

“Mmm, yes, FUCK YES, need this—need you”

It’s his last cry out that makes you pull away; too much of a demand for your liking: “Faster, go faster.”

You release him with a wet pop, his dick smacking harshly against his stomach. He whimpers at the loss of contact. “Am I doing something wrong? My blowjobs not good enough?” you ask, batting your eyelashes as you feign innocence. 

“N-No, you’re ‘mazing,” he slurs helplessly, already drunk on your mouth alone. 

You steady yourself, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “Then why are you telling me what to do?”

“‘M sorry,” he whines, and you relent, taking him between your lips teasingly. One hand resumes working his shaft, while the other cups his heavy balls.

You hollow your cheeks, slowly allowing more of him into your mouth. The salty tang of his pre-cum starts coating your tongue, and you collect it with a content sigh. You can feel the thick vein that runs along his length, and you use it as a roadmap for where to lick and kiss. 

Eddie’s clenched fist slams against the wall, rattling the clock hanging on it. He’s so close.

“What’s her name?” 

Your voice startles him out of the fantasy world he’s concocting in his head, one where he’s bending you over the counter and fucking into you at a rapid pace. “What? Oh, um, I dunno.”

His blatant lie earns him another roll of your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me just so I’ll let you cum. Good boys tell the truth. You still remember it, don’t you?”

Eddie begins protesting, but stops as soon as he realizes that his efforts are futile. “‘S Chrissy,” he mumbles.

“Okay then.” You spit directly onto his tip, watching the saliva trail down to the unruly thatch of curls at the base. “We’ll keep trying then.” You’ll have to pull out all the stops to get him where you want him. You open your throat, allowing him as far back as possible before your gag reflex kicks in. 

This time, he’s the one who pulls away. “‘M sorry–”

“Don’t be,” you wave off his concern. “I can take it. Besides, you like when I choke on your dick, dontcha?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, with a small nod. “I fucking l-uhhhhh-fucking shit-love it.” He puffs out a long, strong exhale when you start sucking him off again, and you smile knowing that you’re the reason he’s coming undone. He bucks his hips ever-so-slightly, and you seize the opportunity to test him again.

“What’s her name?” you press him, sinking your teeth into the plush of his exposed thigh with a little nip.

“Don’t fucking know and don’t fucking care.” Eddie’s voice is low and raspy; this time, you believe that he’s telling the truth. “Just want you–only you.”

“Hmm.” You pretend to ponder this for a moment, standing up so you can kiss the side of his pretty neck. “Want isn’t strong enough, Eds. Y’gotta need me.”

“Fuck, I need you. Need you so bad; need t’be inside you. Need you to make me feel good. Feel wanted.” He’s panting, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can catch them. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, ‘m begging you, baby.”

You chuckle at how pathetic he sounds as his tough guy, Dungeon Master exterior fully crumbles. “Take off your pants and sit on the couch.” Pausing for a second, you add, “shirt, too. Want to see all of my good boy.”

“Yes ma’am.” He kicks off his pants and boxers as he stumbles to the sofa, yanking his faded Dio tee over his head and carelessly tossing it to the floor. He starts to reach out to undo the button on your jeans, but you slap his hand away.

“Did I say you could touch?” When he shakes his head woefully, you grab his chin to jerk his head upwards, looking him directly in the eyes. “Use your words.”

“N-No. No, ma’am,” he quickly amends. “‘M sorry, y’just look so good.” 

You don’t dignify that with a response, simply adding your pants to his pile of clothes before straddling his waist. “You can feel how wet I am, if you want.” You smirk at the last part of the sentence. Of course he wants. One timid ringed finger slides along the soaked cotton of your panties, and he shivers beneath you. “S’all for you, Eddie. My pussy wants you.” You slide them off, grabbing his throbbing cock with your hand as you align yourself. He stretches you when you sink down onto him, more than you’d anticipated, and now it’s your turn to moan. “Fill me up perfectly, Eds. Can’t believe I waited this long to have you inside me.”

Using his chest for leverage, you bounce up and down on his dick, feeling every last ridge against your walls. All he can manage is a string of swear words, practically incoherent while you ride him. He’s buried to the hilt, and you’ve never had anyone this deep before. You’re debating whether or not to tell him this when he murmurs, “‘M gonna cum–shit–can’t hold back. Where–fuck–where d’you want it?”

“Inside,” you say hurriedly, quickening your pace. “Been so good f’me, Eddie, and good boys get to cum inside.” His large hands grip your hips as he spills into you, the two of you finishing in tandem. You clench around him, milking every last bit of his seed. 

He stays inside of you, making no effort to move, but he brings his hands to your cheeks and pulls you in for a long kiss. “Thank you,” he says softly, nose bumping against yours. “For making me feel wanted and for, um, making me realize I’m into whatever that was.” He’s blushing, a deep crimson, and you realize that he’s never been dominated before. He shifts suddenly, creasing his brow. “Does this make us–”

You silence him with a kiss. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” you shrug casually, like you didn’t just fuck the shit out of your long-time crush. “For now, let’s get cleaned up and get something to eat.”

Eddie nods. “Ice cream? My treat.” He squeezes your waist, and the touch has you biting your lip with want.

“Better be.” You nip at his earlobe playfully. “Good boys always buy ice cream after sex.”

--

#requests #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hope you have a nice day.

I’d like to request prompt 9 with azul , ace and epel

Please feel free to ignore this

9. You weren't technically invited to this event but it's a Masquerade! It's not like anyone will notice or care if you sneak in, so you do just that and find a really depressed friend of yours lamenting they won't get to dance with their crush.

My dear friend there is no need to be so shy, I asked for requests. You have no need to ask me to ignore you! Hold your head high, you are more than welcome here ⊂(・ヮ・⊂)

As a note I got a separate request for this prompt from Azul's pov which I still intend to write and post in addition to this, but if said requester wishes for an additional character they are more than welcome to send a message, there is no time limit on that.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I could not for the fucking life of me find any of the music I wanted to use for Azul. No piano cover for the first song and then no instrumental version of "Part of Your World" from Dreamlight Valley; why that isn't on youtube when it is my literal favorite arrangement of the song I couldn't tell you smh. I did manage to find something close to it though... The rest of the event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Azul

Magic shmagic, you have got to be some sort of wizard with just how well you managed to weasel your way into this stupid party. No one had been checking invitations, probably assuming that no one without magic would bother taking time to make an elaborate ensemble just to get their hands on some prime snacks. Clearly they underestimated the great responsibility bestowed upon the owner of a set of tupperware. You would have added "and a cat monster" but you are not stupid enough to think you own Grim.

Or humiliated enough to suggest that he owns you, but the less chances you take at making him sneeze and wake up to a suspiciously empty dorm the better. You didn't need him storming the castle crying about how he woke up all alone and was scared wasn't invited. Not that you hadn't considered that plan together before Crewel had made it extra clear just what the consequences would be for that. The food tables are positioned close to a balcony you had spotted earlier, empty save for a piano that you swear has to be desperately out of tune.

Or at least that had been what you thought on your way in. That clearly isn't true from the song that's snapped your attention away from your mission towards it. You know the song that's being played, or at least you think you do. It causes some strange cognitive dissonance in you, you try to tell yourself that it simply can't be real, even as the words bubble up in your throat trying to make up for the missing instruments. The person playing it somehow makes the dissonance worse.

Azul, because it has to be him, no one else has eyes quite as lovely even if they seem strangely sad behind his mask, clearly is not expecting to be observed. He is far too relaxed, too caught up in some strange thought playing a jazz song so hauntingly out of place against the classical background of the Masquerade. If you were yourself tonight, you would think about reaching out to close the gap, but to do that would be to give yourself away, put you firmly in the tight grasp of his debt that you will likely be powerless to repay.

And yet, he looks to see you anyway, the edges of his lips flickering into business as he surprisingly does not stop playing. Instead he moves the piece into one he thinks "you" will recognize before finishing with a flourish.

It is all you can do to clap politely so as not to drop all pretense. "I am sorry for interrupting you." You try, but you know as well as he that disguised or not, Azul will not let you off this easily.

"Oh it's no trouble really." He stands up from the bench with a flourish. "I was just helping myself, really what were the hosts thinking leaving such a lovely piano out here all alone? It's practically begging to be played."

"Of course." You hope, not with much optimism, Azul doesn't notice you looking for an exit. The last thing you want is a reason to be more awkward around your handsome classmate than you already are. "You chose such a unique song for it too, I couldn't help but be distracted." He falters, fingers dropping back to the keys gently running over them in a strange show of emotion.

"it is isn't it." He states it, more to himself than you as you beat away the unhelpful desire to describe his playing as "out of this world," not wanting to deal with any judgment later. The look Azul has on his face can almost be described as... fond as he continues to speak more to himself than you. "A... friend of mine taught it to me. I have been practicing it for them. For tonight." You almost ask who he is referring to, afraid he might mention some other poor lost soul from another world because you certainly do not remember teaching him any music let alone that song. You have a vague memory of playing something at Floyd's request, but that had been ages ago, and Azul had certainly not been there.

At least not in your line of sight.

"I should let you get back to them then." You say lamely, hopefully Azul will pass that off as disinterest in his personal affairs and let you go. This is starting to get bad for your heart.

"They're not here sadly. No thanks to me, if only they had thought to ask for my help..." He returns to the piano, so genuinely disappointed you are almost angry at yourself for not thinking to ask this poor man who certainly only would have asked for your last dance and not your soul or first born. "It's got to be an important song to them if they remembered how to play it... right?"

Or maybe he would, just in a more romantic way. He certainly seems more focused on the phantom of you than anything else and that has to be some sort of accomplishment. It is all you can do to swallow your guilty conscious enough to leave with your disguise in tact.

Ace

"Yuu! Oi why are you running I knew you would-" Ace's hand stops just in front of you, his smile and optimism completely gone with his brain cells apparently as he retreats. "Ha, sorry." His places his hand behind his head casually, voice dropping to that similar serious tone as it had earlier in the night when he had asked for you to tell him he looked good. "Thought you were somebody else."

"Sorry." You really mean it, as much as you just want to shake off the disguise and let him know he was right that would be way too dangerous. Everyone knows you were not invited, and everyone knows his behavior around you. No matter how much your heart sings that he saw through you, it would get him into so much trouble if he was suspected of helping you in this little adventure.

"Nah it's not your fault, I'm just annoyed." Ace has apparently decided that you are his new old friend for the evening anyway, bracing himself against the pillar with a huff as you give into temptation to stay with him just a bit longer. "Seriously it is going to be such a pain later! Deuce is all like 'we should enjoy ourselves the prefect will be mad if we let them ruin it for us.' Please like I would want my friends to be celebrating when I'm not there."

"You're not your friend though." You try to not laugh as you say it because of course that's what Ace would say. You can easily picture him sulking if it had just been Deuce and you who were off to a Masquerade all while acting like he is truly not bothered as soon as you pay him any attention. "It's not like it's your fault they're not here."

"Ha, sure feels like it." He is back to being oddly serious, you can't decide if you just think the attitude doesn't suit him or are angry he is spilling his guts to a masked stranger and not the real you. He has to know you would listen, but then maybe that's the problem. "You have to have that one friend who never sticks up for themselves right? Everybody does. Just don't make the mistake of- well they're stupid difficult to look after but someone's gotta do it right? No shame if you end up liking them."

"Oh yeah of course." Ace is going to never speak to you again if he figures out this is you. Or if he knows you were thinking about him when he started complaining about having a "friend" that's hard to look after. "No shame at all, really it's annoying how much cuter it makes them."

"You get it." He nods then remembers he is supposed to be the laid back guy in your friend group and returning to his "normal" attitude. "I mean who doesn't understand that? Seriously how tropey can things get sometime, like who still falls for their best friend anymore? How stupid does life think I am- look," he claps you on the back before steeling himself to head off back to where you assume Deuce and the other members of the Heartslabyul crew are, "you see any out of place, magicless prefects you bring them right to me yeah? They owe me a dance for all the headaches they've caused me this past year. And you had best bet I intend to collect." And just like that he's gone. Off to his friends, probably to poke Riddle some to ignore just how vulnerable he decided to be tonight.

And leaving you silently screaming into the night.

Epel

"SHHHHH!" Epel's a deceptively strong guy, it's something he would probably be bragging about right now if he knew you were thinking it. Well maybe not just right now, he has his hand roughly over your mouth as his eyes dart from side to side begging that it's just Vil that's on his tail and not Rook.

Something you are equally begging god for because there is no way that freak of nature is going to not recognize you immediately. Not that you are 100% certain he would turn you in, but there is something extremely uncomfortable about being known to begin with let alone when you are supposed to be disguised. Finally, the specter of the Queen passes by your little nook and Epel lets you go with a sigh.

"M'sorry." Epel is looking up at you like a kicked puppy, you can't tell if it's intentional or he really is just that remorseful. The two of you float towards the tempting fresh air of the balcony, Epel pouting up at the sky as if he is a princess about to break into song about how boring his life is and how if he could just run away into the great yonder he would. "I just really don't want to deal with my Housewarden right now. He keeps say'n I should make the most of the night or else I'll shame Pomefiore, but I just don't care." Well that's not exactly news but still, maybe you can help him snap out of it so he doesn't get into a heap of trouble he'll be complaining about later.

"Aren't you having fun with your friends?" It's a simple first option, safe enough for you to say even though you are supposed to be a stranger. Epel lets out a somewhat predictable sigh, though the sheer force of longing hidden in the eyes you swear are almost shining is not something you expected.

"Well yeah, but a Masquerade like this is super fancy right? There's all these costumes, music fit for slow dancing, perfect thing ta' do with someone special." Epel relaxes, completely comfortable with what he's saying to a supposed stranger in supposed anonymity as if he isn't sending you spiraling with that little admission. "I was really countin' on Yuu bein here." He closes his eyes, almost as if he is imagining what he would be doing if you had been invited and weren't... sneaking around hearing him admit something he definitely did not intend to do like this.

"D-don't you want to dance?" You say it more to distract yourself than Epel, honestly you would love nothing more than to hear him talk about all the fancy things he wants to do with this allegedly special person, but you need an out before he figures things out. Before Vil figures out that Epel's really shirking things and sends Rook. Before-

"Aw yer mighty charmin' but I got my eye on someone already." before Epel makes it super clear just what it is he feels and leaves you no room for denial. You almost feel sorry for the hypothetical stranger you are, Epel looks so... happy when he talks about you. You're almost jealous of yourself. "Say, you got an eye for fancy things? It's gotta suck bein left out of the party so I wanna bring my friend somethin' special but I ain't gotta clue what to do."

"Yourself." You say softly, feather twitching just out of the corner of your eye signalling your que to leave. "If you want to bring your friend something special you should just bring yourself."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #ace trappola x reader #epel felmier x reader #500 followers celebration #i have a love hate relationship w guilty because it used to be my alarm in college #and let me tell you there is no faster way to start to hate a song you like! do not do this <3 #also considered using in a moment's time but i am going to save that

[kaeyx]

Thinking about stepping on catchuus dick while he’s in heat. Hes in heat but hes too embarrassed to communicate that! (Poor babys really good at masking his emotions and needs) The look of shock in his eyes when you push him down to the floor one day out of pure irritation. Bros like “•.•” cause he cant process that youre being rough with him. Where did his kind master go, the one who put up with him even at his worst days?!!? The only way to get him to admit hes in heat is to edge him until hes whining like a desperate whore!

• chuu has been acting up lately for no apparent reason!

•feels way to embarrassed to initiate sex

•so embarrassed that you might wake up with bruised thighs from him humping them at night!

•ever since you took him in my poor baby hasn’t been able to get himself off without some kind of physical touch from you

•even when hes dry humping you at night, its so shameful. Hes been going at it for hours only in the end to have the weakest spurt of cum spill out of his aggravated tip!

•but the night he goes too far is when hes being a little pervert and watching you shower trying desperately to get himself off

•you catch him and inquire about what he was doing

•”awh baby were you touching yourself while watching your master clean himself, y’know you can come in and ill help you”

•He scoffs “y’know you’re not even that pretty. Don’t get ahead of yourself sir, i wouldn’t be that desperate in a million years especially not for you.”

•obviously he doesn’t mean a word of this! He was just so embarrassed that you caught him that he said the first mean thing he could come up with.

•however it doesn’t matter if he didn’t mean it, you’re seeing red

•” what. the. fuck. Did you just say to me”

•chuu fucked up big time

•you get out of the shower and push him down to the ground rolling your heel against his obvious boner

•”if im so ugly then why are you acting like such a fucking whore, i might not have a dick but i know they dont get that hard for just anyone”

•he’s only used to praise from you, but he’d be lying if he said you losing your control didn’t turn him on

•”Ngh! Fuck~ master please m’sorry!” He cries out

•when you try to interrogate him about why he said those things to you he just looks away with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks. (He is quite literally tucking his tail between his legs)

•it goes on like that for at least an hour. But he does break eventually

•hes humping the ball of your foot youve so generously offered while crying out and telling you how he forgot to take his heat repressors and how he was humiliated and didnt want to let you know

•tears running down his cheeks and an embarrassing amount of precum leaking from his tip

•”shhh its okay baby thats all you had to say”

•you whisper sweet things into his ears, but the praise you’re giving him doesn’t match up with the rough manner you’re stroking his cock

•he comes. HARD.

•thick white ropes of cum spilled one after the other from his weeping head

•cums so hard it almost reaches his neck!

•hes now desperately clinging to you whimpering and whining apologies

•”s-sir m’sorry! Jus’ wanted you. Youre so pretty sir, the best master i could ask for!”

•normally hed be to embarrassed to say these things, but hed just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life

•you rub his hair cooing “shh i know baby, jus’ dont do it again”

•falls asleep purring in your arms, slinging to you like he did when you first took him in

-🫙

(IM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK ON YOUR WRITING)

AOUGH okay okay I'm putting this under a cut since the ask is long

Nah bc you're right, he'd be so good at hiding his heats. Or we can throw in some a/b/o and give him heat suppressants, sure! Either way you've never had to think about when heat season is coming, or you might not even know about it unless he's commented on it for whatever reason.

Also yes yes yes Chuuya snapping at someone when he's taken by surprise or feels defensive is so real to me. Crossing his arms and huffing even though his cheeks are red and you can see the outline of him in his pants, he's just going to double down and storm off. And try to finish himself off the second you're out of sight of course. Even if you'd had sex before he's suddenly initiating a lot less, not trying to coax you in for a kiss or anything at all, but always deflects when you ask him what's wrong.

Him grinding against your foot or leg is so hot too...or the heel of your boot even... clawing uselessly at the floor and bucking his hips, whining whenever you press down, dripping steadily onto his stomach. All that pent up cum shooting out far more violently than usual as he pants and moans so pretty, deep in his chest. Finally getting relief after so long of trying to rut into the space between your thighs while you slept.

#asks.answered #chuuya.bsd #chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #cat!chuuya #🫙 anon #🫙 anon i am Looking at you. holding my hand out to you. digging around in your head even

[meraki-yao]

Is this a safe place? I sort of want to get something off my chest, but I have to do it anon because I’m scared. I’m a straight girl and a huge rwrb fan, and thus also a big fan of TZP and Nick. Lately I’m feeling more and more alienated in most of the fandom and I’m afraid I’m the problem? It’s just all this talk about topping and bottoming and what that means for how the characters are perceived that I absolutely do not get? Is it empowering in some way I’m not getting, because if not the feminist in me is sort of appalled.

It’s more or less the idea that bottoming is a little humiliating in a way that needs to be made jokes about that is bothering me. Like the bottom is always a little pathetic or desperate (like how women have historically been portrayed), and we should snicker when the top (or anyone) publicly «calls them out» for bottoming? Obviously not everyone does this but I see it more and more? And when it was just in fics and art I kept my mouth shut because I think that should be a free space, but now I see it in how the actors are talked about too. Like Alex is the top so TZP is made out to be hypermasculine and Henry was the bottom so Nick is either babied or made fun of? It’s bad for both imo. Why can’t tzp be babygirl sometimes and the focus be on his soft sides? All I see is talk about his body and how everyone wants him to top them. And then there’s Nick and how people are saying they are uncomfortable watching him act as a top in M&G, saying he will always be a bottom and that he is a slut etc. If it was an actress or female characters getting that treatment I would riot. And I guess I am a bit now in my cowardly anon way. Am I alone in feeling frustrated about this? Is it bad that I am? Please help me understand if I’m in the wrong.

Thank you for reaching out to me. As long as you’re respectful and not hurtful, you’re welcome here.

Actually, I’ve kind of wanted to write an essay on gay sex and the perception of gender in same-sex couples for a while now! So this might sound kind of academic, bear with me.

Preface: I identify as a straight cis girl, but I’ve been consuming both western and Asian queer media, both fiction and real person for years. This is my understanding of the matter, and I’m trying to be as sensitive and empathetic as I can be, but please note at the end of the day, I am not directly part of the queer community, therefore there may be certain things I miss, or a queer person will tell you otherwise. Also literally all my knowledge of sex comes from the internet, because Chinese culture literally does not talk about this at all. I gave my sister the talk instead of our parents. So please take what I say with a pinch of salt.

Also gonna talk about sex in an academic manner, but it’s still sex, so here’s your nsfw warning!

Ok here we go:

The power dynamic in sex position is fundamentally biological: the penetrator controls the pace and intensity of the act, thus is the active participant; the penetrated is in turn the passive. This is just the mechanics of the act: The penetrated, be it the woman in a straight couple or the bottom in a gay couple is put in the more vulnerable position, therefore the top, as the active participant is perceive as having more power, while the bottom as the passive participant is perceived as having less power.

And there are historical records of this perception: in ancient Greece, there was a common romantic dynamic called pederasty, a romantic and sexual relationship between an older man (the erastes/ to love) who acts as the active, dominant participant, aka the top, and a younger boy/ a teenager (the eromenos/ beloved) who acts as the passive, submissive participant, aka the bottom. It is speculated that this is the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus. This practice was understood as educative, as a means for the older man to teach the younger “how to be more manly as to grow up into a man”. THAT BEING SAID BY TODAY’S STANDARDS THIS IS PEDOPHILA AND DEFINITELY NOT OKAY. On top of that, the perception of being gay in ancient Rome is “it’s okay if you’re gay, as long as you’re the top”. My point is this power imbalance when it comes to same-sex relationships has existed for a very, very long time.

But the thing is a lot of things have advanced in the past centuries, and the perception of sex and gender is one of them.

So firstly in terms of sex, people are much more flexible in terms of the power dynamics, which is where terms like “switch” (can be either top or bottom), “power bottom” (the penetrated controls the pace and intensity of the act) , “service top” (the penetrator focused on their partner’s needs and wishes instead of their own) and the whole BDSM category (which I’m personally not informed about or interested in). So I would say we’re mostly past the point of humiliating bottoms or perceiving bottoms as inherently weak, and use bottom more in terms of the mechanics.

That being said, the power being more balanced does not immediately take away the gender perception of the dynamic.

Since when comparing a gay couple’s sex act with a straight couple’s sex act, the woman has to be in a penetrated position as per biology and anatomy (at least traditionally speaking), the association drawn between the bottom and the woman becomes easy to make. In fact in China, all bottoms, regardless of gender/sexuality, are referred to with female terms, like “wife”, “princess”, “queen” etc. So bottoms tend to be feminized, or at least viewed as more effeminate. Again, this has changed and made more flexible/free in modern times, but this trend is still present.

But when it comes to applying the terms on the boys, something involved is also the audience’s own perception and understanding of gender representation. “Babygirl” is more referring to the “cute” kind of attractiveness than actually babying him, which with given material, tends to apply more to the perception and presentation of Nick than Taylor. That being said I have seen Taylor/Alex being referred to babygirl as well. It’s a little rare but it’s present. I wouldn’t really say Taylor’s hypermasculine either, but in relatively, his style and manners lean more towards the masculine side of the spectrum. But again it’s a matter of perception. Are the gendered terms used on the boys affected by the dynamic of their characters? To some degree, yes. But it’s also sometimes a genuine commentary on their own style as themselves.

As for Geroge, I personally haven’t seen those comments, but the problem with the comments lies in associating George with Nick as an individual and Henry as an individual: as in, they’re not treating George as George, they’re treating George as Nick, which might be why they have such comments. That being said, this is a piece of media, so each to their own.

I think the last thing I’m gonna say to end this is that please remember that this is all subjective perception. If you see something different, then that’s just what you see. Try seeing someone else’s perspective, and if you tried and it didn’t work, then let it be. You’re not in the wrong, it’s ok that you’re frustrated, but at least I don’t think the situation is as harmful as you might see it to be. These types of comments often are throwaway thoughts, so there’s also the question on how serious a comment is.

Hope this helped! Feel free to shoot me another ask if you still have questions.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #anon ask #answered

[jacevelaryonswife]

I’m not your steppin’ stone

Just like the Disney tales, your love story with Jace started in a drinking contest when you almost threw up on him.

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader — Aegon’s participation.

a/n: Since I became obsessed with modern!hotd guys I thought I'd write this. Originally it would be called “I'm not your steppin' stong” because the monkees song, but I didn't think it would match. This is would be a short series (I think 💀)

warnings: alcohol and drugs consumption, curse words, fluffy and humor. +18.

“Hi, I’m Jace, but I know you know that.” He held out his hand towards you with a wide smile on his face.

“Hi Jace.” Taking his hand with a sideways smile, you said your name before repeating his earlier sentence. “But I know you know that.”

Alcohol was a funny thing. Normally Jace wasn't afraid to approach girls, he was handsome, confident and kind, but there was so much about you that intimidated him. Your posture, your beauty, your intelligence… all based on opinions taken 10 minutes ago — when you first met. Again, alcohol was a funny thing as any inhibitions that would have him not reaching out to you were completely broken when he took three shots of vodka (who had that shitty idea?). Despite your presence, your friends looked at him curiously as he approached.

You thought he was cute with his flushed cheeks, bright eyes and sweet smile, and the curls that fell over his shoulder. He was handsome and made you smile open like a teenager. Before everything starts to blur.

Oh no.

“You've probably heard this but you're so pretty and smart you'll finish college at 21 that's wow I wish I was your friend or boyf-“

Somewhere between Jade's incredibly quick words (was his name Jade?) your head turned strong and the growing sensation in your stomach made you take a few steps back.

“Ouh, I think I’m going to throw up.”

Jace stopped talking abruptly, expression mildly shocked and hurt by your rudeness. “Oh… I'm sorry if I was intrusive but if you didn't feel like me there was no need to be rude.”

"Dude, I think she's being literal." A voice behind you says, you think it’s your bestfriend Rylie. “WHERE IS THE FUCKING BATHROOM?”

"Fuck." You murmured, being dragged by him to the other room. The burning in your stomach and throat being too unbearable not to give in.

Your perception didn't catch Jace coming up behind you two or the "Oh fuck fuck fuck" he said when he understood the situation. He preempted opening the bathroom door and turning on the light, lifting the toilet seat for you. (He’s a fucking gentleman).

It was one of the most humiliating things you've ever been through in public. Lucky for you, you didn't know those people and you wouldn't see them again (most of them). The only thing you could say with propriety after being picked up by Jace and cleaned up by Rylie was:

"Don't let Aegon know about this."

The rest of the night was a blurry mess on the way home.

However, it wasn't your intention to get drunk at a major college frat party — the reason was entirely self-explanatory. However, when Cregan, your friend Sara's idiot brother, bet $50 that he could beat anyone in a drinking contest a small, sudden urge to challenge him sparked in you. A small, almost unnoticed urge. You ignored it and went back to paying attention to your friends' conversation, but another idiot named Blah Blah (you didn't remember his name) raised the bet to 100 dollars and decided that vodka would be the drink. Interesting.

"You go? It would be awesome to see Cregan's face when he loses." Sara suggested, enjoying the thought.

“Getting drunk at a frat party? No fucking way.” You replied, dismissing the idea quickly.

Although. The main factor was yet to come.

The Idiot Master and leader of the frat: Aegon.

“100? You are so cute. I bet 150 on whoever beats me.” He took $50 out of his wallet and dropped it into the glass in the center of the table. “Ladies.”

Ok, that was really attractive. Your friends practically yelled at you to go, saying they would have your back and not leave your side when (and if) you won. "We're not going to let any idiot take advantage of you." Rylie assured. The encouragement was almost suffocating, making you give in.

As you approached the edge of the round table, looking curiously into the glass and leaving twenty dollars, Aegon smiled at the sight. “Only this love, have so little faith in you?” He teased with a side smile, receiving your response in the same tone when you rested your hands on the table and tilted your head:

"I don't want to humiliate you when I win."The guys' screams almost had you rolling your eyes in amusement, keeping your gaze fixed on the blonde in front of you.

"And that's how we start the fucking drinking contest!" He yelled excitedly.

Soon, other participants began to arrive around the table, adding up to a total of six. Aegon invited his younger brother Aemond, who just declined with a "Fuck no." Blah Blah abstained from the dispute and remained as judge of the competition. A girl named Baela and a dude named Criston got together, making Aegon smile. Finally, there he was, with animated puppy eyes. His name was Jace and from what the blonde bitch said, he didn't have much resistance when it came to alcohol, but he would participate for fun. Apparently everyone at the table knew each other with exection to you.

For a short time.

Blah Blah boy took advantage of the situation to suggest a dynamic between the participants. The six will be in front of a person at the table, with whom they will share the glasses, during the competition those involved can ask and provoke each other, however, interactions can only last 10 seconds and only the person with the bottle can ask.

He was almost a genius.

Sorting out the participants, Aegon was ahead of Cregan — a little irritated that he wasn't directly competing with you, who was paired with his nephew Jace, while Criston and Baela were facing each other.

“I think you’re making it easy for her.” Kicking off the provocations before the competition, the Targaryen told Blah Blah: “Jace will clearly be the first eliminated, he's a good boy."

"Probably." The guy in front of you nodded in amusement before his eyes fell directly on you, surprised by your next attitude.

“I like good boys.” You smile was sideways and seductive, looking from Aegon to Jace. If they wanted to play, you're game.

Oh fuck.

“Then you should be against me, love.” The blonde snapped, returning the same smile to you. Before a smart answer could come out of your mouth, Jace anticipated him by fucking his uncle.

His eyes were fully on yours as he pointed with his thumb at the older boy. “I wouldn't recommend it unless you want to get oral herpes.”

Your companions and you genuinely laughed at the expense of Aegon, who was totally in the game. He was a little shit, but so was Jace in his response. You liked it. After Aegon told him to fuck off, Blah Blah began the contest. Fun fact: you hated vodka.

Aegon was the first to pour himself and tip the glass, trying to ease the grimace. "Ok princess, what's your name?"

You replied calmingly, not wanting to drop the subject. Not because of him, but being among unknown people who knew each other was a little uncomfortable. “And yours, princess?” Your tone was playful, mimicking him.

The confused expression on the older Targaryen's face was definitely not the "princess", but the fact that you didn't know him. This made Cregan smile outright before tipping his glass and saying, "This is going to be fun."

Taking the bottle from his friend's hand, Jace — who was totally interested in knowing about you — filled the glass and made a complete face as he drank the vodka. You didn't spare the little smile at his reaction, which encouraged him to ask:

"What course do you study? Are you a freshman?”

Usually frat parties attracted the same group of people, but not everyone was there out of habit. Jace didn't usually go to all the parties, and he was pretty sure you didn't either. He didn't know why, he just felt it.

“I'm a senior undergraduate in agronomy, I'm almost finishing actually.” You answered.

“Uh, what-what does a professional in your field do?”

It was a common question for you, but very difficult to answer in less than 10 seconds (that's what you said to the Velaryon boy before Blah Blah ended the interactions time). It was your round, and as you didn't intend to embarrass yourself in front of the guys and girl, you calmly poured the vodka into the glass and drank it as if you were drinking water, no grimaces showing. How you hated vodka.

Sending Aegon a knowing look before the others could smirk at your attitude, you glanced at the guy on your right, Criston. "You really don't seem to attend frat parties." He looked mature and older than the other guys and girls, which caught your attention. You didn't want to be around a possible perv who only dates freshman girls.

“I don't actually attend, I'm grad student and I just wanted to see how the guys are doing.” He replied in a soft voice.

Ahh.

Passing the bottle to the girl with white hair and the almost mischievous smile who drank it quickly, with a brief grimace. “So Aeg, what's it like not to be recognized by a girl?”

The entire table shared her mood, smiling again at the blonde's expense.

“It is really devastating. I feel like a part of my heart has been stabbed by forgetfulness.” He scoffed in a serious tone, causing Aemond to huff as he walked past to grab something from the fridge. “Criston.” He pointed at the guy next to him. “Do the honors.”

With a grimace similar to Baela's, Criston drank and was calm in picking up the bottle and drinking the vodka, passing it to Aegon. “You’re a jerk.” He said.

“Why is everyone attacking me? Just because I'm going to win?" The Targaryen complained smugly, filling the small glass to the brim. “Agronomy girl, how old are you?”

“20.”

“What? And you are already finishing?” Jace asked out of turn, genuinely surprised.

“I will end up with twen-.” At the same moment you answered. Blah Blah interrupted the interaction.

"Dude, you can't talk when you don't have the bottle!”

“Sorry. What? Why not? You said whoever has the bottle can ask, but you didn't limit who can answer.” Jace complained, feeling warm from the drink.

“I… Okay, new rule: anyone not mentioned can't speak!”

“What if I want to mention someone outside of the conversation, can that person speak up?”

When I said that Blah Blah was almost a genius, I was exaggerating. You could really see the effort he was making to think, deciding that yes, fuck it, you can talk.

"So Jace, I'm going to end up with 21 actually." Your answer was not interrupted this time.

“How?”

“TIME IS OVER, NEXT!”

Jace was actually the first to leave the competition, with only three shots of vodka. He was red and hot, his head already started to spin a little. It was totally fun actually and he was totally into you. Damn it, you were savage and seductive, but also smooth. The alcohol was probably clouding his judgment, but he knew he needed your number. That's why even after self-eliminating, the Elder Velaryon continued around.

As the rounds went by, he got bolder and gradually got behind you. Normally he wouldn't dare so much (what the fuck was in that vodka?) but he knew there was a possibility that Aegon might try something on you, so his hand landed on your back as he whispered into your hair, close to your ear: “Defeat his ass, princess.”

You felt that. Turning to face him with a naughty smile and whispering on his lips: “Your request is an order.”

Oh fuck. He totally felt that too.

When the urge to pee and sit momentarily was too much to support, Jace went to the bathroom and spent a short time there, laughing about how funny the light was (maybe he shouldn't have tried marijuana before either).

At the end of the competition when Cregan was defeated, only Aegon and you were left at the table. Your badass posture had already been shaken and when you took the seventh shot it was hard to disguise the bitter grimace because of the ardor in your stomach and throat. Okay, maybe you were praying he would fold because you sure as hell couldn't take two more shots. If this worked? Aegon turned to vomit into the sink behind him. Holy fuck.

“Fuck, you're tough.” He admitted as he turned back to face you. “I fucking give up.” He almost laughed when he put his hands on the table and you swear you heard the screams of your friends and other people. A smile radiated across your face as you let yourself relax and take the money from the center of the table.

"Thanks love." You imitated him previously, clearly affected by alcohol. Your friends arrived behind you, where they never fully left.

He chuckled at your tone, nearly leaning across the table. "I'll bet you $50 that you'll be throwing up by the end of the night."

"I doubt it."

And here you were, held to your feet by Rylie and Jace as you slipped out of the bathroom. After Blah Blah yelled that you were his cool new friend, you left the party carried by your friends and the handsome brunette looking at you with worried eyes. "I'm fine." You assured, smiling drunk and happy.

“Can you let me know when you get home? To find out if she's okay." Jace asked your friend, grabbing his Instagram before watching him go. He wasn't proud of searching your account for your friend's, but fuck it, you only live once. And he sure wanted to see you again.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon #harry collett #modern headcanons #jacaerys velaryon x reader #modern!jacaerys #modern jace #modern hotd #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii #aegon targaryen

[aegidiusrex]

Being aromantic but emotionally intense myself as a person, characters who don’t feel love normally or straightforwardly and/or experience attraction in an unconventional way really grip me, and Gil & Luis hit that spot for me so well… sometimes I think I simplify them down to a “mutually unrequited love/mutual emotional constipation but secretly they’re in love” kind of dynamic purely for ease of communication, because communicating in trope speak is effective in fandom spaces, but that’s not what they are tbh.

Gil’s feelings for Luis are like, I have soft humiliating feelings for the human that you are, but I hate the figurehead you also are, and those two sides of Luis’ persona have no hard dividing line so he feels those things for Luis very much together at the same time. He’s also attracted to/aroused by the opportunity to dominate Luis BECAUSE he often dislikes Luis and feels powerless under him, so he’s not exactly repulsed by Luis’ cruel side either. Gil is also riddled with Stockholm syndrome and he knows it, he knows that his feelings are muddied by his literal dependence on Luis as his master & captor, he NEEDS Luis’ continued favor or he will literally die, so he can’t even trust his own feelings or his attachment to Luis as being from a genuine place in his heart. And when he does feel some genuine longing for something real with Luis, he feels so much guilt and self loathing about it that it makes him feel better to just withhold this from Luis to the point of hurting Luis with his detachment. He knows Luis wants to make a real connection with him and he denies him because he wants Luis to suffer a little bit too. So it’s not exactly that he’s uncommunicative about his true feelings because he’s embarrassed, or because he believes they’re completely unrequited, but because he knows he can’t have anything with Luis anyway so he might as well dangle that out of Luis’ reach. The one thing he has the power to deny Luis is his heart.

Which is the thing Luis wants the most! Deliciously! Luis’ feelings for Gil are based on this strong attraction he has to authenticity, new experiences, adrenaline, a relationship he could never have with anyone else. The nature of Gil’s feelings matter very little to him. Gil’s hatred is just as valuable as Gil’s love because it’s real and it’s for Luis specially and exclusively. Luis spends so much energy trying to draw out ANY genuine reaction from Gil because he loves seeing that kind of authenticity directed at him, as someone who is constantly surrounded by disingenuous manipulators. Luis himself is a disingenuous manipulator. He has never known anything else. So when Gil looks at Luis with the undisguised intent to kill him, Luis is immediately addicted to it. Many people hate him and would love to see him dead but they smile and play nice and pay him empty compliments. He loves the unique danger of going to bed with a man who could, and would very much like to cut his throat in his sleep. It’s not really clear if Luis just doesn’t have the perspective to take this danger seriously or if he is subconsciously self destructive. I think the latter fits very well with his character. Luis is the type of person who sees a priceless porcelain vase that’s very significant to its owner and has this compulsion to smash it. And I think since he sees himself as this valuable commodity, since that’s the only way anyone has ever seen him, there is something attractive to him about being broken and defiled by somebody who sees no inherent value in him at all. He could not ask anyone but Gil to fuck him the way he wants to be fucked, and on top of that, Gil gets just as much out of it as Luis does. Fucking is the surest way for Luis to draw out Gil’s true nature. But Luis is greedy and he wants to know that Gil’s heart is all his, too, whatever is in it, and Gil will never give him the satisfaction (of knowing that it absolutely is.)

#gillou #otp ramblings #chewing on them chewing on them chewing on th

[celestialking]

Golden possession

NSFW 18+ only - Minors/Ageless blogs DNI

Finished writing: Oct 1, 2022

Pairing: Foolish, Amab!Reader, GeorgeHD

Warnings: amab, cockwarming, humiliation, bit of jealousy/possessiveness

Kinktober

After scaring DreamXD away from you, a literal God, Foolish thought he had no one else to worry about. No one else had the guts to flirt with you in front of the demigod. Until that bastard, George showed up. Having to worry about Dream's bargain and the need to fulfill his debt was already stressful enough. So upon seeing you in the gardens being towered over by someone a little too close for his liking let's just say the day was soured slightly. 

You leaned back from the God in front of you hearing a familiar voice call out to you. "Foolish," you exclaimed. 

The totem hybrid whisked you into a tight hold, away from the brunette. "What're you doing here George and what's with the weird get-up?" 

He only chuckled. "My name is GeorgeHD," 

Things clicked a bit slow for the man behind you but eventually he frowned, setting his chin on you.  "HD? Like XD? I have to deal with another one of you jerks?" 

The look on HD's face was anything but amused. "You don't have to deal with me in any sort of way, I'm only here because something caught my eye," the God responded tracing over your form. 

You dropped your voice to a whisper that hopefully wouldn't be heard by anyone other than your lover. "Maybe we should avoid offending the God and getting struck down?" You offered your hand finding one of his. 

"Well, I'd appreciate you keeping your eyeballs to yourself," Foolish huffed. 

HD chuckled before leaving wordlessly. 

"C'mon I know exactly how to end today. I know you'll like it," you giggled, dragging him along as an attempt to change the mood. Foolish seemed more flustered by the fact of you holding his hand rather than what you were implying. 

The desert was lonesome, which was good because it meant complete privacy. So private that Foolish had built a hidden throne room out in the desert sun specifically made for one thing. You riding him. 

"Wouldn't you agree this is better?" You finally asked after having him begin to open you up on his fingers. 

Foolish watched your hips push back against his fingers. "Yes," he hadn't said much since you both sat out here but you couldn't blame him. 

Your body was covered in gold jewelry he had gotten made for you. Just another claim of his that made him swell with pride. You gasped as he pushed a third finger in. 

Your head tilted back allowing him to mouth at your throat. He could feel every sharp gasp and soft moan as it bubbled its way through you. 

"Please," you begged.

Foolish removed his fingers. "You want to ride or-" 

"just wanna feel," you cut him off. 

"Okay," he hummed, helping you turn around in his lap. 

Hands helped steady you over one of his cocks. It still amazed you that the shark hybrid had two. The tip bumped against your hole, but the hands on your hips wouldn't let you sink down. 

"Foolish," you whined. 

He giggled before letting you take control. You sat down on his cock, sighing as you were finally full. "That's it," Foolish murmured, pulling you back to relax against his chest. 

It was comforting in a way. Sitting in the demigod's lap as you cockwarmed him, your hand absent-mindedly stroking his other cock. His lips pressed against your shoulder, tongue, and teeth lazily working their way to cover you in a sinful design of the shark hybrid's imagination. 

"Foolish," you sighed his name leaning more into his touch. 

You felt a hand reach up to wrap around your cock. He hummed, beginning to stroke slowly. His thumb brushed over the tip. You could sit like this forever, his cock buried deep as he took you apart with his hands. 

The desert sun was slowly setting now. The warm sun rays washed over your body. "My divine love," 

It was a whisper but it made you dizzy just the same. His touch was gentle, mapping out every inch of your body. All for him, just for him. 

When his hand quickened you squirmed. "S-slow down," The orgasm he had been slowly building up was now being barreled towards. 

Opening your eyes that had fluttered shut a while ago you saw you both were no longer alone. You chose not to question how the God had found Foolish's private throne. 

"We're busy," was all Foolish grunted out. 

Your squirming had led to you bouncing lightly on his dick.  

"Is that so?" The brunette hummed. 

You couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion that filled you. There was something about GeorgeHD's hungry gaze that trailed your body that you enjoyed. A sinful desire that melted your bones, made you aware of every burning touch on your body. 

The God was quick to notice and quick to put you down. 

"Seems to me that they need more than just you," he grinned at Foolish before turning his attention to you. "Isn't that right pet? You need another cock to satisfy you?" 

The humiliation of being called out in seconds shivered through you. The next sentence was shocking, as it didn't come from him but from behind you. 

"Is he right?" Foolish mumbled. "I have you spread open on my throne and the only thing you can think about is another cock down your throat?" Your skin prickled as you were called out by both individuals for your need for more. 

"Maybe," 

Foolish removed his hand, leaving you still painfully hard. 

HD frowned. "I don't like sharing my pets but I suppose I could do so just this once," 

The slow, lidded glare Foolish gave him filled you with excitement. "Or maybe I should teach this God who you really belong to baby. We both know it's my name you'll be screaming," 

HD just laughed. "I know why XD likes you. You're funny. Funny and delusional. They'll forget your name by the time I'm done with them," 

There was a challenge in his voice. Maybe if you weren't already so cock drunk from your spot in Foolish's lap you would have realized how slightly dangerous this scenario was. You were going to be lucky to remember your name after tonight. Foolish's hands grasped your hips harshly. 

"Challenge accepted,"

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

#celestial:kinktober #celestial:fooshg #celestial:scribbles #celestial:grghd #george hd smut #george hd x reader smut #foolish smut #foolish x reader smut #<main smut tags will be up for a short time then deleted

[sexybabystevie]

harrington steve likes braiding hair when he's stressed, hes the one who styles his childrens' hair

aimi coming to save my ask box as always <3

okay but you're so right. he literally already gives dustin hair advice so he would know what he's doing!!

i imagine that, at some point during vecna coming for max, he would end up braiding her hair. she would probably resist or think it's weird if he asked, but if she seems really stressed and they're sitting next to each other then i think he would do it almost subconsciously, as a way to calm himself and her. she definitely doesn't think it's as weird after that, although she probably wouldn't admit it publicly.

now thinking of him braiding el's hair??? sobbing. thinking that el doesn't know how to braid her own hair but she's seen steve braid max's before so she shyly asks him to do it one day. steve is shocked because el doesn't talk to him much, but he does it anyway, making sure to be really gentle with her hair and to make it look really good since it's her first braid ever. he finishes and she looks at it in the mirror and she's beaming and steve is just completely happy and proud of himself. needless to say, she always comes to him if she wants another one.

i can definitely see him giving dustin a tiny one in a teasing or joking matter. steve reaches over to touch his hair and he backs up and asks what he's doing. "checking to see how braidable your hair is." – "dude, no! don't touch the hair, you of all people should know that!" – "cmon, you took my advice to get this perfect hair. you don't trust me?" and thus dustin shuts up and lets him braid a tiny section. (he would definitely complain about it forever, teasing steve in front of others about it too, but if he ever wants to try a new kind of style that might need it, he would ask him to do it again. something that steve would endlessly tease him about as well.)

i feel like mike would die of humiliation if he ever had his hair braided – and especially by steve – which is exactly why he does it one night while he's half asleep, sprawled across the extra mattresses in steve's living room floor. it's not too tight, loose enough so it's easy to remove, and when he wakes up everyone knows who did it; who other than momma steve? mike would be humiliated, probably teased by some of the other guys – not like they hadn't been in the same position before – but maybe el or will would say that he actually looks good with it, and he would immediately tone down his complaints.

will very shyly asks for steve to braid a few strands of his hair one night when no one else is around. he knows that the other guys would be mortified to have braids – at least they act like it – so he asks him in private if he will, and of course he obliges. he's careful as he places a small braid into the hair near his temple, and it's easy to see how will's face lights up. but he tries to cover it, knowing boys his age don't usually like things like that, but steve isn't having it. "you know, it doesn't really matter what everyone else will say. i've braided all their hairs – even mike's – and they all liked it." and when he sees that will is still hesitant he throws in a little, "okay, fine. you get a secret; robin braids my hair when she stays over and i like it. i mean i like how it looks and how it feels." and that's enough to cheer will up enough so that he's ready to go back to his friends, but not before steve yells out, "and if anyone says shit, tell me. i'll beat anyone's ass for you, kid."

lucas doesn't have hair long enough to be braided, so steve compromises. he knows how much the boy wants to take care of max, so he shows lucas how to braid one day when he's braiding el's. lucas thinks he gets it but needs more practice, so steve begrudgingly lets him use his own hair as practice. "i swear, sinclair, if you knot up so much as a single strand–" lucas smiles to himself at the venomless threat. "i'm dead, i know."

okay so... this was just the kids. i literally have more thoughts about this for reader/me/you/whatever that i could go on and on about but. i've already gotten carried away :")

#aimi YOUR MIND #im in awe #literally giving me the best inspo ever rn ily #aimi🌷 #em speaks #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington headcanons #momma steve #steve harrington and his kids #<3 #asks #steve thoughts TM

[jacklyn-flynn]

For a second, Dorian wonders if he should learn some other method of self-defense on the off chance magic won't be available to him. For a second.

“You are, without a doubt, the absolute worst,” Dorian grumbled, throwing open the locker door that held his belongings. Immediately, he took out a comb to run through his hair, and then a smaller one for his mustache. 

“Because I did what you asked me to do?” Morgan asked, leaning against the lockers to watch him, arms folded across his chest. 

“You humiliated me,” Dorian snapped. 

“There’s no one here but us. And it was your first time using a sword. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You told me to teach you like I would anyone else,” Morgan reminded him. 

“So you laid me out, quite literally, on my backside? Is that how you teach everyone? By showing them they have no chance of winning against you?” It wasn’t so much the words Dorian was using, but the tone that hurt. 

“Again, your first time. No one is talented enough to best a seasoned warrior their first session. And yes, sometimes I’ll beat the pants off you. Real fights aren’t fair,” he argued. “Besides, you know I wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt that beautiful ass. I don’t understand why you wanted to learn how to use a blade in the first place.” 

“I told you, to protect myself.” His locker door slammed closed. 

Morgan gently grabbed Dorian’s hand, keeping him from walking off. “You can protect yourself.” He tugged on his hand, trying to prompt Dorian to turn around and face him but he didn’t. “You know your magic isn’t going to just up and abandon you one day. Even if it does, you have nothing to worry about.” 

Dorian turned on him then, brows furrowed. “How would I have ‘nothing’ to worry about?” 

Morgan was determined to change that furious expression into something entirely different, but equally passionate. “Because I definitely won’t abandon you. Ever,” he promised. 

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Dorian started to turn away again. Morgan reached for his hand, fingers brushing together. “Dorian.”

At the soft murmur of his name, the mage stilled, then turned. “What?” He could feel most of his bluster dissipate at Morgan’s gentle smile. He leaned against the lockers, feeling the cool metal against his back.

“If you want to learn, I’ll teach you. Whichever way you learn best. But you aren’t going to be good right away and you need to know that. You don’t need to be. I’ll never purposely embarrass you or push you past your limit. You are perfect in many ways, but some things just take time, especially when you’re starting from square one.” 

Morgan rested a hand on either side of Dorian’s shoulders and lowered his head, brushing his nose against Dorian’s. He knew his Marcher’s brogue could win him over so he lowered his voice, speaking in husky tones. “For example, how long it’s taking you to admit to falling in lo-”  

“Kindly. Shut. Up!” Dorian hissed. Slipping his hand through Morgan’s long hair he further silenced him with a kiss. Morgan started to chuckle against his lips until Dorian’s hand tightening in his hair painfully. With a growl, he gave Dorian the attention he deserved. 

Dorian broke away after what felt like an eternity, inhaling deeply. “I apologize for lashing out at you. I suppose I’d forgotten what it felt like to be a novice at anything.” 

“All is forgiven,” Morgan murmured against Dorian’s lips. “How about a little more sword training?

Dorian’s hand planted on Morgan’s chest, pushing him away. “Amatus…” he sighed, shaking his head, “you really have the worst pick up lines.” 

“No, really.” Morgan gestured behind him to the door of the training room. “Actual sword training.” Dorian looked skeptical, but Morgan just stared at him and nodded. 

“Oh,” Dorian actually sounded disappointed. “Well now I want the other kind...”

#headcanon du jour #hdj #dorian pavus #morgan trevelyan #from my space trash au #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #seriously though morgan's pick-up lines are dad joke level bad

[aequitas-if]

here are a few silly questions, if you'd indulge me

1. what is the most embarrassing thing that everyone has done?

2. favorite animal?

3. what is everyones favorite color too?

the cut scene tho 👀👀👀 <3

I’m always willing to indulge any questions/scenarios you may have! Helps me get in the mood for writing!

(Also I’m glad you liked the cut scene! I had a fun time writing it and was kinda disappointed when I had to cut it out so hearing someone else enjoyed it made my day ☺️)

Anyways onto the questions!

Question 1: What is the most embarrassing thing that everyone has done?

Original Aequitas Members

Alex: When she first became Elysian and was still figuring out how to juggle both her life as a hero and as a teenager she ran into a lot of embarrassing moments.

The most embarrassing ,however, was when she was 16. She was in class and got an alert that a bank was being robbed nearby and in order to get out of the class to go stop it she very loudly announced that she was on her period and needed to go to the restroom.

Jasper: Okay so the year is 2020. The team had just finished up another mission and were waiting for the police to arrive to the scene.

Do you know what 15 year old Jasper does in order to pass the time? Challenges “MC” to a race. The race starts and as he’s running Jasper trips and falls directly on his face and loses.

The kid with super-speed lost to the 13/14 year old without any superpowers. Nobody will ever let him forget. Ever.

Zoe: While chasing a criminal during a mission she ended up flying face first into a billboard after getting distracted by Jasper tripping.

That wasn’t the embarrassing part though. The embarrassment comes from the fact that is was caught on camera by the news. People reposted it online, made edits and memes. The video was everywhere for months.

Rowan: Aequitas had just wrapped up another mission (they had a lot of them…being superheroes and all) and Rowan and MC had delivered the blow that had knocked the villain out.

In his excitement, Rowan proceeded to fist pump the air and then pull MC into a hug. This was (once again) all caught on video by the news (downsides to be a teen hero ig).

Okay so it’s not actually that embarrassing to anyone but Rowan but he found it humiliating. Will actually walk out of the room if anyone talks about it.

Sidekick Squad

Vesper: Doesn’t feel shame or embarrassment Was once stalking following a lead on a mission and ended up getting caught. Anyways it turns into a fight and the team have to end up making an escape through a window.

Except Vesper couldn’t escape because they were too short to reach the edge of the window and climb out. Leon had to go back for them. They tried to play it off as a joke but literally wasn’t able to look anyone in the eyes for a week.

Leon: The only one who’s story doesn’t have anything to do with heroics. When he was very young he got lost in the supermarket. Instead of going to ask someone for help, he decides to look for his mother himself.

He ended up spotting the dress his mother was wearing walking down the parking lot and raced to her.

Except it wasn’t her.

His family still laughs about it.

Juniper: Was fighting a villain (bc once again teen superheroes) and decided to freeze him in place. (Wrongly) assuming that the fight was now over, Juni went to answer some questions from reporters.

While she wasn’t looking not only did the villain manage to unfreeze himself but he also managed to knock her out. Once again on live television. It was almost as bad Zoe’s billboard incident.

Nora: While doing cleanup after a mission, Nora was given the job to handle the civilians and reporters. After about 5 different interviews and 100 different autographs, she turns to leave but gets stopped.

She turns around and opens with “For the love of god please don’t ask me for another interview or autograph” just to see that it was the police commissioner. He had just come to ask for her statement about the villain. Nora was mortified.

Sebastian: Was doing his usual rounds of patrol (literally nobody asked him to them, he does them for fun) when he literally trips off of the roof he was standing on and lands face first into a dumpster down below.

Sebastian obviously walked it off and pretended nothing happened but Vesper managed to catch it on video (nobody has managed to figure out how or why they were there in the first place).

#ask response #all characters #aequitas #these were so fun to think about #keep sending me those asks #my if

[creaturebehavior]

ugh i’ve reached that point in the night where staying awake is now draining me and it’s time to sleep but i for some reason don’t want to lay down and sleep

i guess i should pick a comforting show and turn my lights off and try to relax

i feel like super lonely this evening. all night i’ve been trying to shake it. and i just can’t find a way to meet this need. and it’s becoming more apparent every day that i should not be so isolated but im terrified of talking to people. even when leo calls half the time it’s like i can’t even get any words out because i’m so afraid to speak

when i’m not doing well, i have an even harder time with my filter, and it’s really humiliating and it makes other people uncomfortable, and so i am afraid to say anything now.

last year i was basically begging my school to let me take a leave of absence as i was in mania and psychosis and dissociating all the time and they wouldn’t allow it and i continued going to school when honestly i needed to be at home or at an inpatient, like i was so incredibly unstable and every day i would contemplate checking myself into a behavioral health center because i was so incredibly suicidal but i just kept on going to school and trying to graduate. and i am honestly kind of traumatized from that experience. and i feel so ashamed for how i behaved in front of people during that time that now i am afraid to act at all, i am afraid to speak at all. i no longer speak to the friends i made at school because i still feel too unwell to have a healthy and not toxic and unhinged conversation with them, plus also i have done so much reflection on the kind of people they were and how i felt i had to mask heavily and join in on talking shit about every single person that wasn’t me, jill or taylor. it made me even sicker. my defenses were up and i picked two people to latch onto and mirror in order to try to survive through school. and at the end of it i hated myself so much, i felt like oozing toxic tar and i couldn’t believe all i had done and said, all out of fear.

and i’m having to confront several of my patterns. it’s so fucking insane, i dropped out of school when i was 16 and didn’t return to a school until i was 26. and i fell right back into behaving how i behaved when i was younger in order to survive public school. i got defensive and mean. and i have to come to terms with this side of myself and figure out what to do about it. because i do not want to be on the defensive anymore. i don’t want to be on the offensive anymore. i want to be myself and not freak out and get all weird every time i’m in a situation where i have to be around other people like that

my seroquel has kicked in so i’m losing my train of thought but did i mention i don’t think taylor or jill are my true friends?

you know who i do still trust though? Selena. she will be the first person i reach out to next time i am feeling stable enough to socialize. She has psychosis too, and i felt safe around her. She understands and i think she’d still love me if i took my mask all the way off. I guess i just don’t know how to feel ready to engage in a friendship with someone. i’m experiencing really low empathy through this breakdown and it makes it incredibly difficult to care about anyone except myself or my favorite person. i am resisting the urge to judge myself over that. god, i literally have bpd. jfc.

when i was younger i used to care so much about all my friends. and now i literally am so burnt out, i’ve given so much of a shit about so many people for my entire life and i finally just hit a wall like it’s so difficult sometimes for me to care about other people and like care about what they’re saying to me and like care about their lives and like be interested enough and have energy to listen to them but i just don’t.

i tire my own self out sometimes because i’ll like, say all this shit to leo sometimes for example and i don’t even care what i’m saying but i keep saying stuff and i’m like god SHUT up ema i don’t care!

so like. it’s hard for me to like. care about something a friend tells me. like mostly everything feels so unimportant

#processing

[galaxythreads]

Hey, I know you started it over two years ago, but I just finished your weeping siren series and strongly suggest/request that you add ableism warnings to the second story. They're both amazing works, but all the ableism in that one (mainly re: Thor) really stung. It's not inherently wrong to have characters act like that, but I got the impression that it's more your own ableism, because 1) it's never remotely acknowledged or questioned, and 2) you gave warnings for lots of other things but not that. Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to reread it without feeling gross, but if you add a warning, then other disabled readers can make a more informed choice and perhaps less jarred than I was, so better able to enjoy the stories. Again, great writing, but there's only so many times I can read a disabled character referred to with slurs and treated as lesser without the author caring.

*very softly* hey.

I am so sorry that this was so painful for you to read. You didn't deserve that. I wish there was a way for me to alleviate that frustration and pain, but there isn't. All I can do is say that I am, from the deepest regions of my soul, very sorry.

Thank you for reaching out and addressing your concerns with me. That was extremely brave to do and I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself and knowing your limitations. It doesn't matter to me if this story was two years old or ten. If I can do better to help other readers feel safer in the future, I ALWAYS want to know about that.

Always. Period.

I have added your suggested tags and gone through and added more specific warnings in the story itself. All of Thor's POVs are marked with internalized ableism so everyone can be more aware of what's going on. I am going to think very hard about the way the story is written and figure out whether or not I want to change the language Thor uses to describe himself. If you're wondering WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU KEEP SLURS IN YOU FREAKING INSENSITIVE--????

Because this story is extremely personal to me.

I think it might be helpful to provide some personal background on this. Not as an excuse, never as an excuse, but so you can understand.

Firstly, I don't consider myself to be disabled physically. I want to make that exceptionally clear. I do, however, have long-standing injuries from my eating disorder. My left leg is a mess. I can barely walk some days because it is so painful. My knees used to be a disaster and I would get constant injuries in my feet, toes, knees, and hips from running so much. Now it's just my left leg--the ungodly pain that it is--but when I wrote TBS, I had leg injuries and pain all the time. Just. Bare that in mind.

Thor's struggle with feeling helpless, with blaming himself for the injury and the language he uses in anger at himself, even if it is slurs, is me dealing with the helplessness and frustration I felt about my injuries. It is literally a journal to me. Ive never explained this, but it doesn't make it any less real to me.

I'm a lot more open about my mental struggles, but my physical ones I admittedly find humiliating and shameful (NOT that I would EVER consider anyone else's to be) and I didn't want to list myself as the source of it.

When I wrote this, I didn't even know what ableism /was/. My family has been blessed with relatively good physical health and there are no physically disabled members. I was homeschooled. I rarely left my house as a kid/teen. Because of this, I look at my worldview in fics sometimes as I'm growing up (I have been writing for six years and graduated HS in the midst of them) and I'm like "???" My point with this is I never had ableism explained or addressed.

It wasn't until a year ish ago that I finally had a NAME for this mystic Thing TM and it didn't even occur to me that I should tag TBS as such, despite the fact it is LITERALLY dealing with unaddressed internalized ableism.

I am sorry that I hurt you. I am. I have tagged the story because it needs to be, but I don't know if I can change it because Thor was ME. fumbling through his emotions and dealing with this using language he HAD.

It's me. Not having better words, but desperately trying to face this struggle. Things I think a lot of people with permanent/longstanding injuries would wrestle with before they know how to talk about it better.

I will do better in the future if I decide to do another fic about disability and/or permanent injury. I know better now. I am much more aware of what ableism is and slurs associated with it. I wasn't in 2019-2020.

The reason it's never addressed as wrong in the fic is because I didn't FEEL it was wrong to be so angry at myself for this. Thor SHOULD have had an arc where he learned better and he didn't. I recognize this.

I feel terrible I didn't address anything and was so insensitive. I don't know how to fix this because of how personal it is to me. Not that I'm putting this on you. It's not your fault I'm feeling like this. I just... You were vulnerable with me anon, and I'm attempting to do the same.

Again, I'm sorry. Thank you for reaching out.

#tbs #my fics #me as person #tw internalized ableism

[nikbok78]

Marriage of Convenience

Plot: your rich parents from OC arranged your marriage with a complete stranger; the son of a big corporate. your families are the powerful ones in town. You hate the idea of marrying your family's rival to merge the corporates. But soon you find yourself trapped. It's only then that you realise what you're losing by not standing up to your parents.

Austin was his name.

Back then you had hated to admit your mouth curved in a perfect "o" and your lips almost hesitated, as if asking to be looked at when pronuncing it.

Unless you were mad at him, which happened more than often, then it would come out like a blast. The anger visible in your eyes.

Your older brothers liked him, your parents didn't have an opinion on him, they accepted his role in the family, as long as you two weren't trying to kill each other literally.

Your marriage had been arranged for one year until both your parents forced you two to spend time together, and look the part for when you'd have to make public appearances. You were the only daughter of the family, the biggest car industry corporate of the country, while he was the only son of the biggest pharmaceutical corporate of the country. Your families dominated upon OC, but your parents were tired of playing Capulets and Montagues so they decided to arrange a suitable marriage to merge the corporates. The situation messed up both you and Austin, who were basically strangers to each other. But your parents wanted their ruling over OC to be complete, and they had no other daughter to sell off.

Opposing was not in their vocabulary, when they wanted something, they simply got it.

With little to chance to a success for your dream of a happy life on your own in college, you obliged your parents' wish. Being with him wasn't just bad, it was terrible. Some days he would just straight ignore you and you knew it should've felt great but it didn't. Deep down you knew this would never work, that you had to make it work if it was to be lasting and in public. At least as long as your parents thought you could finally call it a day and stop pretending.

It was just another day in OC, when your relationship started to change...

"Y/n I don't want to see you today. Get out"

"You can't stand the idea of me sitting on your couch watching a movie?" you asked faking disappointment.

Your hand digging in the popcorn and eating voraciously to fight the rising feeling of irritation.Bursting out at him would be humiliating. "This is my house. What can't you understand of respecting my boundaries?"

"Look, I really don't want to be here. But here I am. So if you got any complaint, please send them my parents' way."

He scoffed. You could see he was fighting too to keep the cool. Austin seemed to always have the perfect words to ruin everything.

"You can always come over to mine" you offered, teeth clenching at the idea of your brothers monopolizing the living room. Very few things could be worse than you two having to share the space with them and the other option was bringing him to your bedroom. One worse than the other.

"My brothers literally adore you."

"They're not as dull as you"

"Well excuse me. Maybe you're still in time to ask their hand. Anyone will work. You can take them all for all I care."

To this Austin didn't reply.

Good I finally shut him up.

A feeling of satisfaction reached your lips, curving them. Soon a feeling of dread hang upon your heads as he asked the worst question one could ask to someone that was living in denial, forced into an arranged marriage.

"Did you just give up like that on college?"

Your breathing got worked up while you stare dumbfounded at him. How could have he known you dreamed of a normal life in college?

"College? Not for real, that could not be anyone's plan of making money nowadays. With rich parents who needs to study? Who needs a dream nowadays?" you forced out of yourself, hurting the palm of your hand with your nails. You felt like your voice could crack any time now.

Austin studied you, observing your eyes. It was as if he was staring past you and inside your soul with his deep blue eyes, and your skin crawled.

"So you're telling me you have a dream." you said suddenly, exchanging the glance back. It was a surreal moment for you both. You felt your breath stop as you looked in his sea-like eyes. You saw a glint in the depth of the water. It's easy to lose yourself in them. Instantly you knew he hadn't lost hope.

"Austin, are you crazy?"

His mouth curves in the hint of a smile.

"It's kind of funny that one would consider me crazy for following a dream just because my father is loaded."

"Are you sure about this?"

"What's there to be scared about y/n? In my opinion a dream gives you the perfect thrill to live your life in unexpected ways."

"It's only hurting and suffering. You know dreams never become true, you must know that."

"Listen, if we must get married because of our parents and not because we love each other, then I don't want to hear it that you sacrificed your dreams because of this."

You knew he was right, but admitting it stung your pride. Later in your unhappy marriage of convenience you’d end up blamiing each other for everything that you couldn’t possibly have because of your situation. You didn’t want to live a life of regret; sacrifice was something you had been too familiar with since birth because of your parents. You always put them and your brothers first instead of yourself, and you realised it must’ve been the same for Austin as well. And suddenly you didn’t want to argue anymore with him; he was the ally you didn’t know you had always had, if only you two had tried to understand each other before. You sigh and admit defeat, while his eyes finally soften.

“You’re right. I’ve always wanted to complete my education in college. To become independent and keep my family out of my business. But it isn’t always easy to choose your happiness over duty. I’m scared of failing even college and accomplish nothing on my own.”

Austin looks at you and he suddenly becomes very serious. His eyes seem to ask for permission to break the boundaries. You nod and he rubs your arm gently, comforting you.

“My mom supported me,” he says. The corner of his mouth twitching in a sad smile. “but my dad isn’t really the type to understand feelings over materialistic needs.”

You had heard from your parents that his mother died in a tragic accident years before.

“He cares for you, in his own way.”

“I know he’s just trying to secure financial stability, but that is not what I really need as his son. I want to be happy and I need him as a father, not my financial manager.”

You took his hand in yours, the sudden touch giving you both a deep connection you didn’t know you could have ever had. His hand was rough like a man’s hand but his palm and finger tips were soft.

“I think we are lucky to be able to have dreams exactly because of that financial stability. Sometimes I just think why do have I to pursue dreams when I can have everything I want with money? But that’s not right, I don’t want to settle for less only because of what people say.”

“Good girl”

Suddenly you’re aware of the intimacy you two have now, but you want to know more about him too.

“What is your risk-it-all dream then?”

“I want to make it big in Hollywood like James Dean and Marlon Brando. Quite frankly I’m a shy guy, but when I try to be someone else for fun, it brings out the best of me.”

“I’ve been knowing you for one year, and let me tell you, you’re no one but Austin right now and you’re the best you’ve ever been around me so I’m really curious.”

You really meant it, and being around him now made you the happiest you had been in the last year. It was a gentle feeling, like the pure fluttering of a heart. But also an overwhelming need to be close to him, to be allies in this madness. Austin said nothing, he simply caressed your hand holding his. “At least Hollywood is quite close to OC, so you can always crawl back to your dad” you add, smirking in a playful tone.

“Oh no, I will never fail.” he replied in a challenging tone, and you suddenly felt his accent and mannerism very close to the Old style Hollywood of James Dean and Elvis Presley.

“You will see y/n, we will both follow our dreams and live fulflling lives.”

“What about Stanford? It’s quite close as well”

“You’re aiming high Mrs. Butler”

“Just like you”

Not quite your Hollywood fairytale, but you could work on that. For now having Austin on your side would surely prove to be your happiness card.

I apologise for grammar mistakes, English is not my language

#austin butler #fanfic #fanfiction

[freshinthehearse]

I feel alone

 I feel like writing a longform post rather than just getting drunk and/or sad and saying sad things on the TL. 

I’m so fucking alone, I mean that, I don't really have companionship like other people have. I have friends that I care about and that love me, I love them too, but I feel like I cant form connections at all. Everyone will end up leaving me eventually so what's the point. Something that eats at me a lot is Julia leaving me, that was so hard for me, I hated it. I tried so hard to make things work and it fell apart in front of me. It was disheartening, humiliating and it showed me that I cant trust anyone to stay in my life. Even my own mother betrayed and left me. I just don't trust anyone anymore, I know that it sounds cringy  but its just better over all to expect people to disappoint you. Something that I think about a lot is the fact that in that relationship I had a lot of beautiful women vying for my attention but I turned them away because I thought I found someone that I could spend my life with. And in the end she ended up hurting me and then tried to act like my friend after the fact. I wish that I had never met her. But I never get my wishes anyways.

Another thing that really bothers me is the friends that I have, specifically with their relentless inability to talk to me for some reason. People like Jake, Mike, Alex. these people don't give a fuck about me at all. Sometimes I sit down and I think about the fact that not a single one of them reaches out to talk to me. Not one, every time we have talked I have had to do it. I get the same response every time. “ I’ve been so busy blah blah blah” I don't believe that shit especially with Michael. Here we are in summer and I still don't ever fucking talk to him. all he does is go to his boyfriends house and who knows what the fuck else because he never fucking talks to me. It is literally impossible for you to say that for months at times you cant text or call me. Something else that blows me away is that jake will only ever hit me up if he needs something. Let me think for a moment what was the last thing we did together, oh that's right, I helped you when your ex gf was being a antagonist. Lovely, great to see you again brother. And I didn't even bother mentioning Andrew because he never reaches out either even after I tried telling him that I wont be friends with him if he doesn't talk or reach out to me. He said okay texted me for about a week and then never hit me up again. 

Finally i had the lovely news dropped on my lap that there's good chance my dad will be laid off which means that I’m moving with him when he leaves the island so what little I have will be ripped from me and I will never have it again 

I keep trying and I don't want to kill myself but i just don't see anything getting any better. why should I be forced to live in a society that doesn't care for the people that live within it. Our government doesn't care and continues to let people starve and die or go homeless for the sake of profit. If you're lucky you live paycheck to paycheck until you retire with little savings and then die. I genuinely don't believe it to be moral to raise kids in the world we live in today but I wont tell people that because it makes me sound like a dick 

Alright I think I’m done now ill prob link this if I ever kill myself so people can get an idea of where my head is at