#shitty 3 a.m writing

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older!eddie munson

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 2: A Hoard of Cupids

summary: nathan’s much more insightful about you than he used to be. it’s making you uneasy…and curious.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan trying to be nice but he’s so abrasive lol, pining, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, mentions of emotionally abusive parents, masturbation (m), sub!nathan if you squint

wc: 2,745

AN: back at it with part twoooo. thank you all for the kind words and support on this fic, i didn’t expect it to get the response it did but i’m really excited to give y’all the rest. fair warning that these chapters seem to be getting longer as i write on. happy reading!

in plain sight masterlist | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan gives you space— at first. When you return the next day at 7 a.m. sharp he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the living room or in the kitchen, not on his patio boxing. You assume he’s in his room, probably toying with one of his bots in a distasteful manner. The idea makes you shudder. But is it not easier to come to work with every task he could want you to do placed on his desk, no fuss?

You don’t like Nathan Bateman. He’s a pompous asshole, a know it all, a man who thinks only about his own desires. When he apologized— or rather attempted to— yesterday you thought that maybe you slipped and fallen down the stairs on your way out. By his standards, it was a top tier apology. You’d never once heard him apologize to anyone. On your drive home you had wondered if he had ever apologized in his life. The thought made you giggle, and then you’d turned up the music and forgotten about him until right now.

Sat at your desk, an ungodly stack of things to do. There’s a note sat on top. It’s simple and straightforward, lacking emotion but somehow still has your stomach flipping. It reads:

In meetings all day— let me know if you need anything. Go home early today.

Mr. Bateman

P.S. I’ll spruce up my apologizing skills.

You regard the note cautiously, raising your brow at it before you let yourself laugh a little. Was this a joke or had Nathan Bateman taken some criticism to heart (which is rumored to not exist). You fold the note up, and for some reason slip it into your bag.

The last thing that’s on your mind is that Nathan’s watching you. He sits in the dark at his monitors, leaning in closely. His eyes trace your figure on the screens intensely, watching as you read and read and read. He expects no reaction from you beside maybe throwing it in the trash. But then you laugh, and he watches you store it for safekeeping. A piece of him will go home with you. Nathan never thought he’d be jealous of a piece of paper, not when he seems to have the entire world at his fingertips.

—

He returns to his normal behavior after a week— partially because he thinks you settled in. And partially because…well he begrudgingly can admit to himself, in the comfort of his own mind, that he misses you. When you get to work the next Monday he’s sat on an observation table, examining what looks like a deconstructed robot brain.

You aren’t even able to open your mouth and say good morning before he’s talking to you.

“Are you sleeping okay?” He asks, his eyes appraising you intensely.

You stop in your tracks, regarding him as always, your expression pieced into that calm expression. So you’re back to normal, none of that fire. He expected it but that doesn’t keep him from feeling disappointed.

“Sir?”

“You look really fucking tired. Exhausted,” He tacts on for good measure.

Your spine goes completely rigid, your grip on your bag tightening. You are tired. So very tired. You work shitty hours for incredible money and then go home to take care of your younger sisters and mother. Dealing with Nathan is for them. For your sisters’ schooling, so they won’t feel left out when the other kids have the newest gadget or shoes. For your mother’s ever piling medical bills. It’s important that you don’t jeopardize something so precious.

“Is it affecting my work? Have I done something wrong?” You ask him softly.

“No— that’s not why I’m—“ He stutters before closing his mouth and starting anew. You’ve never seen him like this. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was flustered. But knowing Nathan, he’s just never asked a single employee he’s ever had if they’re alright. “I’m your boss, I worry about your well being. That’s what good bosses do.”

“Are you sure?” You ask evenly, eyes still trained on him.

“Am I—“ He stops, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he bites away his smile. “Are you fucking with me?”

If he was looking at you so intentionally he would miss the way your mouth twitches. “I’m fine, Mr. Bateman. I have a lot of responsibilities, not only here but out there as well.”

“Out there?”

“The real world. Thank you for the concern, sir.”

For the second time, you’ve rendered Nathan speechless. That night he lays in bed thinking of you, like many nights prior. He turns your words over in his head time and time again. The real world. Do you think he doesn’t know what it’s like out there? He wonders how much research you’d done for the job. Nathan used his brain to get here, climbing and climbing. He hadn’t been born into this but his personality lent itself to such a conclusion. Nathan knows what his real world used to look like, though one day he hopes that any of his contraptions can help him forget. He wonders what your real world looks like.

There’s no ring on your finger, but you could have a partner. Kids? Another job? He pays you well enough for that to not be necessary. Maybe you volunteer at a puppy shelter. He could picture it. You in something other than your stuffy work clothes, a smile on your face as you drown in puppy breath and slobber.

He groans, rolling over in bed to plant his face deeply in the pillow. Maybe he can smother himself out of this. Thinking about puppies? He might as well be one, he’s practically lovesick if you have him thinking like this. When would he get used to feeling this way? His usual cynical thoughts feel like they’re being pillaged by a hoard of cupids.

He doesn’t even know if you feel the same. Being better for you is one thing, but what if there’s no payoff? What if he changes for you and you leave him high and dry? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He feels the back of his neck sweating and sits up.

Nathan’s been down this road before, it’s brought him his fortune and an insane work ethic. It’s all brought him sorrow he’ll never be able to escape. Being with his parents feels like a fever dream sometimes and other times he feels 6 again, like he’s drowning in their expectations and insults, trying to measure up. He’d given up eventually, once he realized that they would never love him the way parents should. Why try to do anything anyone wanted but himself when they could still treat him poorly for it?

He’s the way he is from his own indoctrination. He doesn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t convinced himself that he was the only person that truly matters.

But, now there’s you. You, who looks so soft, you that scratches an itch he didn’t even realize he had. You, that he wants to goad and prod and poke until you unleash all of yourself on him. He closes his eyes and lays back, envisioning you right here with him. He feels insane, his heart— his mind, his dick— are taking him through a whirlwind of emotions right now.

He palms himself through his boxers, eyes squeezing shut tighter than before as he tries to narrate. He pictures you in one of his white shirts, it’s fabric nearly see-through with the way it clings to your breasts. He grasps his length through his boxers letting out a heaving sigh. Fuck he wishes this was you.

If there’s anything that Nathan knows how to do its not only being smartest but the most imaginative. He’s been daydreaming for as long as he can remember. Universes with better outcomes— having worth, or loving parents or anyone for that matter. Anyone to be on his side. He imagined codes and synthetic body parts that live and breathe in front of him. He can surely imagine you, breathy and horny in his bed, jerking him off. He doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, or inappropriate. He wants you, and maybe this is the only way he can have you. He slides his boxers down, finally done teasing himself. Licking his palm, he grabs his cock, starts stroking and succumbs to the thought of you.

Another moan bubbles out of his throat. He can see your nipples through his shirt when you straddle him like this. Your thighs are soft against his own and he would reach for your free hand, thread his fingers through your own. Your hands are smaller than his, smooth and supple. And god, you’re stroking him just the way he likes it, the soft wet sound making pleasure shoot through his groin.

You’d overstimulate him wouldn’t you? With that clever mouth barely pulling up a grin, eyes full of fire as you stroke him past the point of pleasure. Would you make him watch? See the way your hands would grow slick and shiny with his cum as you kept pumping and pumping, pushing him to another release. Covering you both in him, until you’re too needy to keep toying with him. Nathan cums just as he’s imagining the feeling of you dragging your bare pussy against his sensitive cock. He whines and keens off the bed, the high singing in his veins. He swears he can almost imagine the way you would moan.

His eyes open, the spell broken. He’s alone, covered in his own spend, chest heaving like he just ran a 10k. He avoids his reflection when he walks into the bathroom to clean up. His loneliness spikes again and he heads to the kitchen, reaching for the first bottle he can find.

—

“You’re late,” He says stiffly, crossing his arms as he watches you cross the space to sit at your desk.

The day after he’d gotten off thinking of you he’d had the slightest difficulty looking at you. It quickly faded, he was too greedy. Too needy, if he’s being honest. He can’t get enough, he doesn’t know if he could ever say it but you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You’re openly frazzled; your shirt isn’t tucked in, your hair is a little more frizzy than usual and you look as tired as ever. He regrets his biting tone immediately.

Even as you explain you’re moving, setting your to-go mug on the desk, fetching your calendar, booting up your computer. “I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman. My sisters were less than cooperative this morning.”

Nathan turns completely away from the bins he’s been searching through, raising a brow at you in surprise, “Your sisters?”

“Yes— one is 7 the other is 14. The little made getting out of the house…difficult,” You murmur distractedly, eyes trained on your screen.

“Isn’t that your parents’ fucking job?”

His question snaps you back to the present— you hadn’t shared nearly as much as you could’ve. But you’d gone into this job wanting to be nameless and faceless. Memorable only for the quality of the work you do.

You shake your head, daring a quick glance in his direction that you immediately regret when your eyes meet his.“I realized that I’ve shared far too much about my personal life. I should work, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan immediately understands your deflecting. How many times has he been asked by reporters and interviewers where his family is? Enough times that he’s had his publicist strike the topic from the acceptable lists. That was about all he was good for anyway, Nathan says what he wants when he wants.

He goes back to the task at hand— though now with you here he doesn’t quite remember what that was. A part…some sort of part that he needed. Wires? Screws? A metal plate? He sighs in frustration and leaves without another word.

Your gaze is on the door as soon as it shuts, making sure he’s gone. The tears that you’ve been biting back fall and you bury your face in your hands. Your youngest sister had begged and pleaded for you to stay warm in bed with her this morning. With your mother so sick, you’ve practically raised her yourself these last few years. It makes her needy, which you understand. But what she doesn’t understand is how delicate the balance you found in caring for your entire family is. Middle sister lacks just as much understanding, with heaps of attitude. She doesn’t want to snuggle with you or with younger sister. Mediating this entire situation is what made you late.

It feels like you’re cracking under the pressure but that isn’t an option, is it? As if the universe wants to make it clear, your computer chimes. It’s Nathan, asking you to come to his office.

—

He’d meant to go clear his head in his office and come back to get whatever part he was in need of. But, when he sat in his chair he was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk, presumably crying by the way your shoulders jerked every once and a while.

He’s pinging you before he can think better of it. He watches you read his message. You’re such an anomaly— you sit up immediately, reaching for some tissues and cleaning yourself up as if nothing happened. You even check yourself in the reflection of your computer, fidgeting with your hair, tucking in your shirt once you stand. As soon as you start out of the office he turns off his monitors, not one to be caught snooping around though it’s right and was clear in the contract. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you don’t think your anything worth watching…Nathan would like to change that assumption.

“You pinged me, sir?”

How would he play this? He couldn’t admit that he just watched you cry.

“Trying my hand at this apologizing shit again. I— Nathan Bateman— am sorry for being insensitive. Like I said last time, I don’t know your life or you. Alright, how was that?”

“I would say a solid, 5/10, which is a 50% improvement.”

“Fuck me, you’re a tough crowd. What am I docked for? You know I’m all about perfection.”

“There was a lack of originality. And you omitted your middle name.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to giggle. The way the words come out of your mouth are so funny… or maybe he’s just obsessed. It could be both. “My middle name is classified information.”

“Does Wikipedia know that?” You ask, tilting your head in that uncanny way.

Nathan can’t hold in his laugh this time, running a hand over his beard, “You’re funnier than you look.”

Your mouth twitches, and you give him the smallest nod, “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

He pretends to think about it. “This apology is feeling pretty one-sided to me.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Bateman, thank you.”

“Accept something else,” He proposes, going out on a limb. Suddenly your stare is too intense, the room is too hot and small. What the fuck is he doing?

“What’s that?” You ask, as soft and sweet as ever.

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” He says simply.

“With you?”

Nathan ignores the twinge in his heart— your tone barely changed. If he wasn’t with you every single day, studying you, he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I can invite the droids if you want. They’ll just stare at us while we eat.”

Your hand tightens around your planner. Dinner with Nathan…choosing to be around him? It seemed like as of late he was trying to be…more palatable. This could be an act of good faith. But, you have your sisters and mother to think about. You’ve given her nurse enough overtime hours in the last few weeks.

“Without getting too personal, I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it sir, I have to get home to my sisters as soon as possible.”

Yes, your family, that you never talk about. He could accommodate, what’s he the fucking boss for if he can’t?

“We’ll do it early.”

You sway a little as you think about this— that’s new, he thinks to himself, filing that information away for later.

“You’ve already got me apologizing, I can’t add saying please to the list of acceptable behaviors. I’ll lose my fucking edge.”

“How early?”

“3:30.”

“Alright, then, sir.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue , @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @kotaropuppy

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #in plain sight #arson writes #not sfw

[usedpidemo]

Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)

Hi everyone! π here.

By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.

With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:

First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)

Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)

Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)

1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)

2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)

3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)

4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)

5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)

Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)

It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!

I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3

From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.

I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.

Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.

All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.

But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.

Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.

After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.

With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.

A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.

And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.

And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.

With grace,

Peter / π

#update #anniversary

[live-laugh-love-the-archivists]

HEY GIRLIE 💥💥 sorry for bringing me insanity into your asks shejjska I just like how you write stuff

Could I have some Collector and Belos headcanons 🙏🙏 (any type is fine!!!!)? THANK YOU

Anything for you 😘 these are just some silly randomized headcanons for ya!

The collector will be using only they/them pronous. To avoid confusion

During the hundreds of years, only being around one person (who's was currently trying to kill every witch in the boiling isles behind there backs), you gotta expect that some of that dark humor and sadistic nature is going to be seen in the collectors additude, since the only parental figure they've had in millions of years so happens to be a witch hunter obsessed slime ball

I feel like the collector would just randomly pop up once someone leaves the room just to annoy belos in some sort of way, either it be on purpose or not, they find it funny how belos trys to shut them up

Defently just makes random sounds in the background just too annoying belos

Belos had strided gracefully to the portal, seemingly just to stare at it. It's been so long since he's been to the human realm. Surely, things haven't changed too much, right? Why should he worry. "Hey, how long are you going to stare at that piece of metal? I'm boredd" The shadow that had formed beside him whined, spinning in a circle before siting mid air beside the emperor. "For the last time collector, this is a portal, not a piece of junk" he kept himself controlled and calm, but under that relaxed posture was a very annoyed man trying to hold back there on growing angry, not specifically towards the collector, at himself for worrying so much. "SAME thing.......meow," the man turned to the shadow. "Stop." Only for the shadow to grin, the wide smile plastered on their face.

"MEOWWWWWW....mreeow...RAHHHH......meow :3...SSSSSSSSSS" "collector stop it this is not the time-"

The shadow continued to make noises, dramatically throwing themselfs around the room, left and right they made different noises, some noises even belos thought were impossible to do inwhich belos annoyingly sighed,his head pounding from the oncoming headache. "Oh, for heavens sakes stop being idiotic!" The emperor shouted across the room only for the collector to pause, looking over to the angered man with a frown. "Fine then," huffing like the child they were, they disappeared into the shadows, out of beloses sight..only for clicking noises to echo throughout the large room. "Would you stop that!"

....

"WHOAOAOAOAAAAA"

"HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT A WHALE IS?"

Honestly belos has had enough with there crap, so the first time he covered the Cresent plate up for the first time only to find out the collector infact cannot interact with him when it is covered, oh boy is belos pleased. Now he doesn't have to hear all the complaints and oh so peacefully quiet silence

... until he finally removes the cloth to a very angry collector

The collector like a cat, they do things to piss off people and then sleep like nothing happened, or in this case, disappear

Requets are open

Post banners by: rpinking

If I did not fulfill what you wanted, don't be shy to request again

This is kinda shitty and not detailed because I wrote this at 2 a.m., so if it's not what you want, please do tell me, and I'll redo it

#toh #the owl house #toh the collector #the collector headcanons #the collector toh #emperor belos #headcanons #owl house request #request are open #request

[garma-mom]

Nahhh, I wanted to write a one-shot about toothache, dentist and etc., but I give up. It's too long, I can't cut it down nicely, and there's almost no Daryl or conversation with him at all. Fuck it, I can only draw, not write one-shots.

I woke up after 9 a.m. with a slight pain in my upper molar, on the right side at the back. I felt it with my tongue, even though I knew it would do no good. I sighed mentally and went to the bathroom to wash myself.

After my morning bathroom, I went downstairs and started preparing breakfast for the three of us.

I made coffee for my dad and uncle, holding my nose and huffing.

The coffee was disgusting and stank. I didn't know how they could even drink something like that. I made myself t/f tea. I made us omelettes with ham and vegetables.

While I was platting the food, my dad came downstairs.

"Hey darlin'."

He greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the temple. I kissed him back on the forehead.

He looked at the ready breakfast.

"Well well well, breakfast served right at your doorstep? Just like in a hotel."

We both chuckled.

After a while, uncle Merle joined us, looking quite human. Having little access to drugs and alcohol, he was almost always sober. Or it was my presence and charm that kept him from drinking.

I greeted him as well with a hug and a kiss on the nose, and then we ate breakfast. After that I went to brush my teeth, the pain was slight but dull - it was still there.

In the afternoon I was busy helping to repair the Alexandria wall after a tree had fallen on it, ruining it. People sawed it into smaller pieces so they could remove it. I helped as much as could, but still couldn't get rid of the molar pain, which was not only bothersome, but intensified by now.

In the evening, when I came home, Merle and Daryl were sitting on the couch in the living room, together.

I took off my shoes, cap and glasses, washed hands, clenching my jaw from time to time, pressing onto the aching tooth, which at least eliminated the dull pain.

Before going to bed, I brushed my teeth, thoroughly scrubbing the painful one in my back, although I knew it was too late for such treatments. I knew that sooner or later it would have to be drilled, which made me anxious. I was always afraid of the dentist, or rather the pain they caused by drilling into my teeth. I didn't brush them much when I was a kid. Let's be honest, who did? I took half a pill of the painkiller and went to sleep. I took 3 whole painkillers during the week, but I knew I couldn't hide it any longer.

.

.

.

Jeez, why it has to be this shitty and bad, I truly hate it. Helo me please 😩😩😩😩😩😭

You can fix it by re-writing it and giving an "y/n", but keep the topic of toothache, future dentist visits and tag me on it. Cheers!

@celtic-crossbow @dixonzzgirl @deansapplepie Please help? You're so great at this guys 😩🙏🏼

#Daryl Dixon #One-shot? #I don't think so. #Toothache #I can't write #Ughhh

[kpop-kitkat]

Dangerous Secret | Xu Minghao

pairing | werewolf!xu minghao x f!reader

genre/cw | angst, fluff, werewolf au, secret, blood, violence, mild language, injury, dark forest at night

wc | 2.2k

notes | very motivated when writing this, hope it turned out alright :) minghao is like my ultimate bias wrecker lmao xd

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Oh my Gosh- why did I let you drag me into this,” Lisa shook her head.

”Chill, you know I’m scared of the dark too,” Y/n replied, stepping over a tall tree root.

“Why does your boyfriend live in the middle of the woods anyway? Don’t you think he’s hiding something from you?” Lisa wondered, following in Y/n’s steps.

”We’ve been dating for three years Lisa, and we promised each other to always be open and honest with each other. I don’t think he’s hiding something from me. Besides, nobody likes being visited at 12:00 a.m,” Y/n reasoned. 

“I get it, but don’t you find it a little suspicious that he specifically told you no visiting after 11:00 p.m, and literally lives in the middle of nowhere? He could be a mafia for all we know,” Lisa teased.

”You, know, I’m starting to regret letting you come,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Look! We’re here,” she whispered, pulling Lisa behind a tree.

”Ooh,” Lisa stared at the dark mansion. “I thought it would be some shitty looking cabin. Minghao’s a freaking billionaire,” she awed. 

“Well, he’s a multi-millionaire. His parents own a very successful clothing brand in China,” Y/n explained.

”And you tell me this now?” Lisa put her hands on her hips.

”If I told you when I first found out, you would’ve asked him out first. I know you’re a gold digger,” Y/n pointed out.

”Good point,” Lisa laughed. Of course it was just a joke and not actually based on facts.

”Should we go in?” Y/n wondered.

”It’s a bit awkward if I go. You should though,” Lisa suggested.

”But you’re scared of the-“

”That was a long time ago Y/n, I’ve matured.”

”Yeah whatever,” she playfully rolled her eyes. 

“Seriously, go see your Romeo.”

”Oh gosh, you never change, do you?”

Lisa gave her a small smile before she ushered her into the house and went back into the woods. Right before Y/n stepped into the mansion, she got a text

Bestie🤪: I’m heading back, I have an exam early tomorrow. Love you <3

Y/n: Aight, ily too ✌️

She sighed, slipping her phone back into her pocket. There were no lights on in the mansion, so she assumed everyone was asleep. But for some reason, the door was unlocked. She opened it and glanced around the eerily dark room. 

“Is anyone home?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb anyone if they were.

The reason Y/n came here in the first place was to surprise her boyfriend. She knew he said no visiting after 11:00 p.m, but she needed to know why. As she was about to take the stairs to Minghao’s room, she heard a bone chilling howl. It sounded like it was miles away, so she assumed she was safe. After entering his room, she looked around. No Minghao to be found. Only an open window with a ladder leading up to it from the dark forest below. She gulped hard, debating going down there. She ultimately decided to do it, and tried her hardest to be brave. 

“Minghao?” she called out once she was back in the dark labyrinth. Luckily, she had a flashlight. “Babe?”

She froze in her spot when she heard another howl. This time, much closer.

”Y/n?” a voice called from deeper within the forest.

”Minghao? Is that you?” she replied.

”Why are you here?” Minghao sighed.

”I came to see you,” she answered, still no sight of Minghao’s face. “Why are you hiding from me? Come into the light.”

”Y/n, you don’t understand. You can’t be here,” he warned.

”Minghao-“

”Please! I need you to go back into the house. Right now.”

”Just tell me what’s going on first!” 

“Shh! He’ll hear you!” he whisper-yelled.

”Who will hear me?”

A third howl was heard. This time, it was on the other side of the mansion.

”He’s found us. It’s too late, you have to come with me,” he explained, coming out from his hiding spot.

As he stepped towards Y/n, she shrunk back. 

“Minghao, you don’t look normal. Your eyes-“

”I’ll explain later. Now, we need to run.”

”Run?!”

”Shh!” he exclaimed, embracing her and using a hand to cover her mouth.

She couldn’t help but let out a quiet cry of confusion and fear. Minghao couldn’t let his emotions control him, they were in real danger. But the way she trembled just broke him. He planted a comforting kiss on her forehead and lips before taking her hands in his.

”We’re going to be alright. Just run, and don’t look back. Okay?”

She nodded her head slightly. He nodded in return and firmly grasped one of her hands and let go of the other. He began sprinting off into the forest, Y/n trailing close behind. As they ran, Y/n fought the urge to look back. But at this point, she didn’t need to. They were obviously running from a wolf. And possibly a werewolf. But did they even exist?

What seemed like hours was only ten minutes of running. The howling noises had ceased and the loud leaf crunching sounds had stopped. They were safe, for now.

”Okay. Tell me what’s going on,” Y/n begged.

He sighed heavily. “Alright. It’s hard to put into words, as they might not be so believable, so just, try not to scream?”

She tilted her head in confusion as Minghao stepped away from her. She could only stare in horror as Minghao’s skin suddenly became fur. His ears, pointier. A once nonexistent tail, visible.

Werewolves did exist. In fact, her beloved boyfriend was one of them. She could hardly believe her eyes, or any of her senses for that matter.

She backed up into a tree as Minghao began to approach her in his wolf form, tears threatening to fall. He whimpered when he saw how frightened she was. Minghao loved her. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him.

Y/n took a deep breath before reaching out her hand towards him. The wolf stepped closer and leaned his head into her touch. He was much bigger than an average wolf. Over two times the size. Y/n couldn’t help but smile, as she pet Minghao’s pretty wolf coat. It was a majestic grey and white ombré.

”You’re pretty as a wolf,” she complimented, earning a tail wag from him. 

Suddenly, Minghao’s ears perked up as he looked in the direction they were previously running from. He turned around and tilted his head, gesturing towards himself.

“You want me to ride you?” she asked.

He nodded eagerly, as if danger was pursuing them, which it most definitely was.

“Okay.”

She quickly sat on Minghao’s back and grabbed his long fur for support. He was pony-sized wolf, so he was the perfect size for riding. Once that same deafening howl was heard, he quickly broke into a sprint, making Y/n hold on even tighter. 

The thrill of being with the one he loved while running from the one he hated was unmatched to Minghao. His mind was only set on one thing: Y/n’s safety. For the past three years they had dated, that had always been his priority. And if he wanted anything more, it was the death of the person who was chasing them: Jung Songjin. 

~~~~~

About ten years ago from the present day, Xu Minghao’s father, Liqiang, and Jung Songjin’s father, Minseok, were best friends, who both led their own werewolf packs. But one fateful day, Minseok went wild due to close proximity with an intoxicating plant. Liqiang had no choice but to kill his best friend. 

Still to this day, Songjin despises Liqiang and his son, Minghao. He would kill them both if it meant the death of himself as well.

~~~~~

Minghao had been hunted since the day he was born. It wasn’t fair, but so life is.

Minghao sighed in relief when he caught sight of the abandoned shed he loved to play in as a kid. It would be a safe place, for the time being.

Once he reached the door, Y/n slid off of his back and unlocked the door. Minghao quickly nudged her inside and followed her in. Once inside, he shifted back into his human form, his clothes from before magically reappearing. He bolted the door shut and closed all the curtains in the windows. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed when he closed the last curtain. When he turned around, he was immediately embraced by his girlfriend. He hugged her back tightly, rocking her side to side.

”I‘m scared,” she whispered, voice cracking.

His heart broke a little hearing her words. All he could do was be her safe place. And that’s exactly what he wanted to do. 

“It’ll be alright, I promise,” he soothed, running a hand through her soft hair. 

“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed into his chest, clutching his shirt tightly.

”No Baby,” he pulled away to look into her eyes. “It’s mine. I should’ve told you my secret sooner. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I thought I was keeping you safe,” he admitted.

“Oh Hao,” she looked deeply into his eyes. “Just promise me you won’t ever leave me?”

”Of course I promise,” he smiled.

He was about to lean in to kiss her when the sound of a shattering window interrupted him. He quickly, yet gently, shoved Y/n to the side and shifted into his wolf form to confront Songjin. But as soon as Songjin saw the girl, he shifted into his human form to speak.

"You have a pretty girlfriend Minghao," he chuckled evilly.

Minghao shifted back into his human form and stood in front of her. "You stay away from her you bastard," he seethed. 

 "I'd rather not. Besides, why kill you when I can make you suffer instead?"

 "What?"

"The girl. She's obviously very precious to you. Killing her would do much more damage," he smirked. 

 "Not if I kill you first," Minghao stated, quickly shifting before lunging at his enemy. 

His hopes were crushed when Songjin pulled a dagger from behind his back and stabbed the wolf straight in the gut.

"No!" Y/n cried, watching as Minghao was then picked up and thrown against the wall.

Songjin's attention was now focused on Y/n. She whimpered and backed into the wall as he neared her with a piece of broken glass in his hands. As he raised the shard, she closed her eyes, awaiting the painful impact. But it never came. She opened her eyes to see that Minghao, in his human form, had stabbed Songjin with the same dagger he was wounded with. Songjin dropped dead beside her.

 "Minghao," she gasped. Minghao smiled at her before he became dizzy and fell to his knees. He dropped the bloodied dagger and was about to have his head hit the floor when Y/n caught him. 

 "Ahh," he clutched his side.

"Oh my God," she stared at the deep wound. "Stay here, I'll find something to help you."

Minghao could only nod tiredly in response.

She returned with an old cloth that she found and pressed it against his stab wound. "You're so stupid," she chuckled, trying to hide how nervous she was.

"How am I stupid for saving the one I love?" he smiled at her lovingly, despite his immense pain.

She shook her head at his stubbornness and continued to press the cloth to the wound. 

 Suddenly, Minghao's facial expression changed from adoration to alertness. 

 "What's wrong?" she wondered.

"Ngh," he groaned in pain. "Songjin... he isn't alone."

Minghao didn't wait for her response and stood, trying his best to ignore the pain. He took her hand again and quickly led her out of the door, and began fleeing back to the mansion.

 "Can't you shift!?" she asked, fearing for her life, as well as his.

"It takes too much energy to shift into a wolf," he explained, only focused on the path ahead.

Once they arrived back at the mansion, they used the ladder to climb into Minghao's room. He was swift to close the window.

 "We should be safe until morning," Minghao sighed. 

 "May I see your wound?" she asked.

He nodded and slowly approached her. He tensed as her fingers trailed over his wound. "The fabric of your shirt is making it worse," she noted.

He blushed as he tugged the clothing article over his head, revealing his well toned body. It wasn't like Y/n hadn't seen it a million times before, he was just shy. She spent the next hour carefully bandaging his torso. She then made sure he was comfortable as he laid on his bed.

"Do you need anything?" she smiled.

"Just you," he replied.

She was mindful of his sensitive spot as she cuddled up against his bare chest under the grey blanket. She didn't hesitate to peck his lips when she got the chance. 

 "You're a werewolf," Y/n said out of the blue, as if she hadn't fully convinced herself.

"And you're a werewolf's girlfriend," he giggled.

 "You're in love with me."

 "Of course I am."

#feeling motivated #xu minghao #minghao #the8 #the 8 #the8 x reader #the8 imagines #the8 fluff #svt the8 #seventeen the8 #seventeen #x reader #cute #angst #kpop #kpopidol #fluff #dailybg #the8 angst #minghao fluff #minghao x reader #minghao imagines #minghao angst #svt fluff #seventeen angst #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #werewolf au

[descaladumidera]

On High-Functioning Depression and Why It Sucks

People with High-Functioning Depression (aka Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD)) experience depressive symptoms, but much less severe. They can still do their daily tasks, like going to work, cleaning their homes, taking care of themselves, but it comes at the cost of feeling completely and utterly drained afterwards and all these tasks being incredibly hard.

The defining factor is that the people experience a depressive mood for most days for at least two years.

Symptoms for said depressive mood include but are not limited to:

• insomnia or sleeping too much • feeling sad and/or hopeless • fatigue or no energy • lack of self-esteem • changes in appetite (decreased appetite or overeating) • suicidal thoughts

Now. This is my dunno-how-many-th attempt at writing something about this. Haha. Depression, amiright? Anyway. Just. Scroll past this if you're not interested in reading about my own experiences. I just need. To scream this into the void. And maybe it'll help someone else to recognize that they are not Just Sad™ and get the help they need.

I'll put everything else under a cut. Because. This got long.

To preface this: I'm officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety and I'm trying to get some other stuff checked out, but that's not important right now. (It's a lie. It is important, but if I start, I'll go down a rabbit hole, rant for a few paragraphs, and then break down crying. So. We leave that out. It's not important regarding this post.)

When I first got diagnosed, I didn't know that PDD was A Thing™. And I don't know if my therapist did, either, 'cause I think they were kinda doubting that I was depressed at all. Which. Fair. If you go by the classic depression symptoms and severity (even though depression is not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing).

I was not depressed enough to not get out of bed or take care of myself. I was not depressed enough to not go to work. I was holding down a steady (albeit shitty) job at that time, I showered regularly, I cleaned the house, I walked and took care of my (now deceased) dog, I did everyday tasks. But, and that's the crux of the matter, I was completely drained afterwards. Taking a shower and going to work on the same day? Killed me completely. Going to therapy and to work on the same day? Yeah, no dice. On those days it was too much to eat a dry slice of bread, but I forced myself to anyway.

And then. Well. You have to know that my job required me to work from 5:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. So I got home around midnight. I was always bone tired, but. I. Couldn't. Sleep. Just couldn't. Still can't. Body tired, mind exhausted, but when I could finally fall asleep at 3 or 4 a.m., I would wake up every half hour or so. And then it would take me up to an hour to fall asleep again. Rinse and repeat. (I got a weighted blanket now and it got a bit better, with my sleep being uninterrupted on most nights for about three to four hours. Not ideal, but so much better than what I had before. Believe me. I lived with that horrid sleep pattern for years and it had me on the brink of crying each time.)

And then I stumbled upon the term Functioning Depression on a Clint Barton/Hawkeye post on Tumblr of all things. Turns out it's not functioning but high-functioning, but that's neither here nor there. Fact is, it helped me to understand my particular flavor of depression.

I did a Google and. Well. This high-functioning depression stuff fits me to a T. The sad part is that I had already stopped therapy by then (which is another whole other story in and of itself, which will also make me break down and cry if I start to think about it). But at least now I knew that I was not not depressed enough. I simply have a different type of depression (well, this part is a self-diagnosis, but whatever).

It's nice to know that for myself, because no one else cares. They just see me functioning like a normal person in everyday life and assume I'm fine. Because for most people depression comes in the form of being "too sad to take care of yourself".

"You don't look sad." Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I don't go around and proclaim my permanent suffering, because my brain chemicals are whack, to the world. It's none of your business. My parents know I have depression (they accept it, so why would I confuse them with the sub-type?), and my friends do, too. Some of those friends also know about the high-functioning part.

But yeah. It's hard to get acceptance, because I look fine. But I'm not. I stopped therapy (for unrelated reasons), I'm not on meds, I don't have any officially taught coping mechanisms. I'm just trying to do my best. Sadly, that "best" is. Slugging through. Existing. Just. Existing. And crawling from day to day and not thinking about how to best kill myself. Because. Yeah. That has been an intrusive thought lodged in my head for months now. I would have bouts of suicidal thoughts in the past, but this one has lasted the longest and it's so damn hard to fight it each and every day. I'm just. So exhausted.

I'm not fine. I'm not. But I appear to be and it's so hard to get help for a mental illness that's even more invisible than usual. I just want to give up. I'm so tired. And the most infuriating part is that I could do something about it, but I just. Don't.

I'm not a child anymore. My parents should've gotten me help for my anxiety when I was a kid, but everyone always said that I'm just shy (well, I thought so, too, until I learned about anxiety when I was an adult—fun times). I don't blame my parents. It's not their fault. I grew up in the 90s and 2000s in a small town in Germany. Mental health? What's that? I don't blame them. But I mourn the opportunity, 'cause everything is so much harder if you're an adult (for example getting an autism or ADHD diagnosis, which I'm looking into, but … yeah). Kids get help easier. Because they're kids. As an adult you're fucked. And not in the fun way.

It's not like in fiction. Nobody will come and save you. Nobody will be your hero and drag you out of your pit. You can only save yourself. It just sucks when you're too tired to do so.

#High-Functioning Depression #Persistent Depressive Disorder #PDD #Depression #TW: Depression #TW: Suicidal Thoughts

[gaiaseyes451]

New WIP Tag Game!

thank you @malachitegrey !

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

Ok, let's start with the ones I don't love. These aren't polished, they haven't come out right yet (2 WIPs and bloody hard to pick without giving major spoilers):

When the alarm buzzed at 10 a.m. on 25-May Ezra was already awake; thankfully Anthony had awoken naturally a bit before the alarm. That boded well for the day, it was always easier when Anthony woke of his own volition and today would be challenging enough. The hope was to keep their routine at home as consistent today as possible until they had to get ready for Adam’s wedding. It was one of the reasons Evelyn had suggested setting the ceremony for 3 p.m., an unhurried morning for Anthony to give him the best possible opportunity to be able to attend and enjoy the wedding. They would miss getting ready at the hotel with Adam and the rest of the wedding party, they would miss the photographs before the ceremony and getting to spend the last few hours with their son before he embarked on married life, they would miss the last chance to give fatherly advice.

“Get out of there! I don’t need you mixing things up. If you can’t keep track of your own things I’d thank you stay out of my personal effects!” He shoos Anthony away from his desk as his phone in his trousers rings. He checks the name on the screen - Tracy - probably looking for Anthony.

Heaven largely didn’t concern itself with Hell’s organogram, but Aziraphale knew even Hell followed the idea that the punishment must fit the crime. A demon found to intentionally have aided and abetted in Good would be severely reprimanded. Crowley’s role in saving Elspeth’s life must have had dire consequences. What did they do to you? He wanted to demand an answer, to know what his role had been in this change in his companion’s countenance. But he remembered the withering glare, the venom in Crowley’s voice earlier in the evening. Careful. Don’t push, don’t demand. Careful.

The ones I do love (3 different WIPs):

It was the sorrow that overwhelmed Aziraphale, that drew the air from his lungs and forced his eyes open. He had felt others’ sorrow many times before, he knew the way it spread like oil over water, leaving a film on everything it touched. The surge and swell before it receded again to the edges of consciousness, not always demanding attention but omnipresent nonetheless. That was not this sorrow. This wasn’t an insidious oil slowly coating every surface. It was an inferno consuming every molecule of oxygen, stoked by every breath taken in vain attempts to smother it. It was keen and blinding and new and it needed to be contained before it reduced everything else to smoke and ash.

“’Magine my surprise, seeing a streak of black and red flash past my office door. No ‘hi Tracy’, no stopping by to complain like you usually would on a Friday, not even frustrated mutterings!” She affects an air of obviously feigned concern. “I’da been worried ‘bout ya if I weren’t so stunned by the peaches ‘n’ cream flash that wasn’t two steps behind ya.”

[This is technically in verse, formatting be damned] He is my after life and my liturgy. I seek not Heaven nor Hell. Valhalla nor the Elysian Fields. I worship him alone and he sanctifies me. He exalts in me as I debauch him. I am his salvation and he my damnation. Together we are Balance. Look away, heavenly hosts, for you cast him aside as wicked. Look away, legions of Hell, you sought to destroy him as righteous. You shall never know a love such as ours.

@hakunahistata, @kotias, @paperclipninja, @the-literal-kj and anyone else who wants to, come play!

#wip wednesday #my fic writing #my fanfiction #my wips #good omens

[griseoo]

Am I Real?

childe x gn!reader hurt to comfort

tw: suicide attempt, derealization stranger in your own body.

an: i kinda feel like shit so writing this to feel better, not proofread

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　☽ ☾ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

‘It’s always been like this.

Life has always been black and white.

People come and people leave, leaving nothing but scars behind.

Their half-assed apologies say enough about their true feelings.

But what can I say? that’s just the way how life is.

It’s either you hit the jackpot or you lose and become colorless like everyone else.

It’s so boring. And tiring.

I have never had a reason to continue on in life.

But I did not want to disappoint anyone, so I forced myself and pretended like everyone else to be happy.

Hm yet I find it kinda sad how no one bothers.

If we all feel the same why does no one bother? Or am I the only person who feels that way?

Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m the only one who feels that way.

Not even he noticed. Or he did and just acts like he didn’t so he doesn’t have to bother about it.

I love him with all my heart…but does he feel the same way?

He probably doesn’t and just felt bad for embarrassing me infront of my friends when I told him i’m inlove with him.

He’s gonna leave like everyone else..’

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　☽ ☾ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Many thoughts were running through my head, overtuning every outside noise.

< 3:00 A.M >

“oh how I wish to restart in this shitty game called life..”

my own voice felt like a stranger to me. I was sitting on my bed, silently staring out the window.

A lone tear escaped my face, contradicting the numbness expressed on my face.

I didn’t bother wiping it, Ajax would only come home tomorrow from his trip.

The stars were clouded and I could barely see the moon shine through.

I know I didn’t belong here, no one truly needed me here.

I rose from the bed, the floor creaking as my feet slowly pressed down on the wooden ground.

I silently walked up to the window, staring into the nothingness of the dark sky.

I was in trance in my own world, not even noticing the way I opened the window.

I sat down on the windowsill, staring on the ground bellow me.

A single jump would end this all..

I didn’t notice the way tears streamed down my face.

Neither did i notice the front door opening.

I only noticed when I heard shaky breaths behind me.

“Baby please get away from the window…” His words didn’t register in my mind at all.

“Please we can talk about this, we can fix this…Y/N please don’t do this.” He tried to reason with me, hoping his words would get through me.

“Is it really possible to fix a feeling like this..? Why bother on someone like me?” I was nothing but a stranger in my body, having no control over my own actions.

Yet before I let myself fall someones arms wrapped around me.

My breath hitched while feeling myself gain control over my own body again.

“I-I’m so sorry for not realizing..” His voice cracked as he spoke, not being able to contain his own tears as he pressed me tightly against him.

“I was so busy with work I didn’t even notice, I’m so sorry love.” He kept muttering soft apologies into your hair.

You felt so guilty.

“No I should be sorry, I tried to act so egoistically without considering anyone’s feelings..” You whispered, taking in shaky breaths in a way to calm your nerves.

“No you weren’t egoistic at all, don’t ever think that. This isn’t your own fault and you also aren’t alone in this. I’ll always be there for you if you need to talk to someone, so please…next time talk to me.”

You broke fully down at his words, starting to sob into his chest as he drew soft circles on your back to calm you down.

You clinged onto his shirt, trying to impossibly pull him closer. “Shh..Let it all out.” The way he softly stroked your hair while whispering sweet nothings into your ear made you feel so safe.

Your sobs stopped after a while, turning into soft hiccups. Your eyelids felt so heavy and he felt so warm.

You slowly started to fall into a dreamless slumber as he picked you up into his arms, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

He carried you to your shared bed, pulling you into his strong arms.

That night, he made a promise to protect you from the pain in this world. And he never breaks a promise toward his loved ones.

#genshin #comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #childe #childe comfort #childe fluff #angst to comfort #genshin impact #self insert #fluff #y/n #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #hurt #hurt to comfort

[stillvalenthatgurl]

okay, so I'll post this (idk if 'post' is the right word but anyway), and then I'll go back to sleep cause it's 3:36 a.m. in my place. I just wanna say that Theo Crain has been saving my life since 2018 (I had 14 years old back then) but this fictional character has meant so much to me that literally it give me hope to confront my life. To confront my inner ghosts. And now, with 19 years old, I can still say that I'm a huge fan of @flanaganfilm and it all started with Theo (and Kate Siegel ofc) but it was followed by Hush (I've seen that one, more than 10 times), and well, Midnight Mass is that one special for me, the monologs in this one made me feel company, like a kiss on the forehead and they inspired me in my writing too. Mike, if you are reading this, thank you for making those stories. They changed my life for the better. They company me when nobody did, and they are still doing it for me 'cause I can watch them all over again so many times, and they still mean everything to me. I feel like I'm on a shitty loop. My english is not acting very well right now (I'm from argentina, hehe). Anyway, like probably Kate would said: horror people are the best people. - Valen :)

#theo crain #the haunting of hill house #bly manor #mike flanagan #kate siegel #erin greene #midnight mass #camille l'espanaye #the fall of the house of usher

[anonymous-dentist]

Hi! I love your fic ''You're Dead'' but I saw your post about not updateing it/turning it into an original piece. As much as I'd love to read it w/ original characters, I'm also very attached to yd!karlnapity :'3 So I wondered - it's due to Dream allegations right? Idk too much (I saw some stuff on twt about it but there were so many re-tellings I'm not sure what is true) but if the allegations turn out false, will you continue the piece? Or maybe I don't know something and it's all been proven true?

(Here’s what I say as of 8:24 a.m. on the 19 of October:)

At this point I legitimately don’t know what’s true and what’s not. What I do know comes right from Dream’s Twitlonger. He did some weird messaging with fans, and- even if they weren’t minors- that’s really freaky. Shitty, even.

This isn’t my first rodeo with this kind of thing. I was an Achievement Hunter and Funhaus fan back in 2020. I also know to always believe the victim and to not believe, say, random fucking people saying things and then immediately leaving.

I’ve never liked Dream. It’s never been a secret. I’ve never watched any of his videos besides the face reveal and I’ve never watched any of his streams because I’ve never liked him. I’ve never defended him outside of saying he isn’t ugly. All the stuff he’s done in the past has been horrible. I firmly believe that you can grow as a person (I know it firsthand), and I’ve always been able to separate art from artist as you can tell by c!Dream being in my fics, but at this point it’s legit just too much. Because even if the allegations are true, the way he handled this plus the Manatreed situation earlier this year plus him, again, admitting to sending weird and very parasocial messages to fans just makes everything he’s touched tainted.

You’re Dead won’t be continued. I have cried over this. It isn’t the most important thing in the world, and the priority here should be with the victim(s?), but it still hit hard yesterday when I realized I’ll never be able to finish my fic.

Even if I was to play devil’s advocate here, I’d say that he’s still too gross. Dream’s character was going to die in the end, anyway, but I’d still have to write and include him in the second half of the fic, and I’m. Not doing that. So it can never be continued even if the allegations are somehow false. It sucks and I’m heartbroken. There, I said it, but it isn’t worth hours and hours of seeing his name there. He doesn’t deserve even a single hit on the Google search bar.

But! I really like the new concepts I have for You’re Dead: the Remake. It’s tighter and more focused while making adjustments to the characters that bring them to life in new ways and allow them to act like total fucking freaks all of the time (because tbh they were super ooc for a fanfic.) There were a lot of plot threads in YD I don’t think I could have ever successfully concluded in a satisfying way. Things were jumbled and messy and, honestly, pretty bad. But now I can fix it and make it actually good!

If the allegations are somehow false and other creators ditch the asshole motherfucker piece of shit, maybe I’ll be able to write about their characters in peace. Maybe. Karlnapity are so fucking important to me, you don’t understand. But the way things are looking based on what I saw on Karl’s stream last night and by how silent twitter has been on the subject… it’s not looking too good.

#asks! #dream situation

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

#im impatient and posting this todayyyyy #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

[hoochieblues]

15 Questions

tagged by @highwayphantoms tysm <3 idk if i have 15 mutuals who wanna do tag games rn, sooo YOU. YES YOU. you're jumped in if you want to be :)

Are you named after anyone?

I picked my own. :) It's inspired by trees and - if you translate it - also works as a stripper name. Just in case!

When was the last time you cried?

A month or so maybe? I did get a lil misty watching foster dog run around like a normal canine last week, especially when he put weight on his wonky leg. He's had a lot of PT and it's paying off!

Do you have kids?

Nope.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Me? Perish the thought. /s

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Probably always kindness, whether it's online or in person.

What's your eye color?

blue/gray I guess?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Why not both? I like both, but I'll rarely turn down a horror movie. I'm still evangelising about Death Bed: The Bed That Eats (1977) to anyone who'll listen, bc the world's a better place when you can watch weird artsy indie trash with friends.

Any special talents?

ummm… I'm going to say weighing ingredients accurately without measuring, but that may more likely be practise and recklessness rather than talent.

Where were you born?

Within the same 30 miles that half my dreadful fambly have lived for literally 500 years, but we left before I was 18 months old and didn't go back for over a decade and then I escaped again. The next time I move will be #26, so it's fair to say I've bounced around.

What are your hobbies?

In no particular order, reading, writing, movies, knitting/crochet/fiber thingies, growing stuff, fixing stuff, animal rescue/welfare stuff, painting/sketching, music (listening/playing… poorly), photography (mostly analog; I love my shitty Soviet cameras and Polaroids), hiking when I can. Poking around thrift/antique stores/museums in places I haven't been. If I collect anything per se, it's recipes and myths/folklore.

Have you any pets?

No permanent residents rn, but two foster dogs, one short term (hopefully; she just needs to complete leash training and get a little clearer on the difference between Inside and Outside, otherwise she's a sweetheart) and one long term project dog. In his defence, he came to me semi-feral and had been through a particularly brutal kill shelter. He has a lot of scarring both internal and external. Took 6 months+ to touch him, and now he'll walk on a slip lead for me (sometimes) and (gasp!) voluntarily snuggle and ask for pets. If he can get over yelling at and/or trying to defensively herd anyone who isn't me, he's got a shot at a new home, at which point I will ugly cry but be so, so happy for him.

…I like talking about my fosters. Rehab project tax (Chance):

What sports do you play/have played?

I preferred weights n stuff when I was younger bc I detested team sports, but tennis, badminton, swimming etc are fun. I used to ride whenever I could with the fleeting ambition to one day do point to point and dressage, but a) equestrian shit is a time-consuming and expensive hobby (even if you know ppl with horses) and b) I had an argument with a fence post and broke bits of myself, and by the time that all healed up I'd developed unrelated chronic fatigue. Mostly I hang out with horses on the ground now, but I'd get back into it if I could.

How tall are you?

Five eight, billed height. Probably a bit less, idk. I stoop and I don't do all the pilates for my back that I should.

Favorite subject in school?

I was a horrible, horrible theater kid. Not even in the three a.m. Denny's way (I can't sing). The black turtleneck and Brecht way. Yes, I am still ashamed.

Dream job?

I'm very fortunate, so more or less what I do, but with less freelancing to stop up the gaps and more writing things I'm proud of in genres I love. I'm trying to move more towards that at the moment. Oh, and a lot less proofreading. Grammer iz hurd.

#tag game #all about me #dogs

[nathank77]

4/9/24

2:39 a.m

So I've spent like 2 or 3 hours being tortured by my auditory hallucination trying to shop on lens crafters.. and once again my face dimensions are not accommodated for.

Idk what to do, for one they don't have hinge to hinge so I've been comparing lense width with nose bridge to what does fit me.

I'm in love with these....

Once again bc I have a, "fat face" there is no way it'll fit me. My current Ray-Bans are 55 lense width, 17 nose bridge and 139 hinge to hinge... I compared Eyebuydirect to lens crafter since LC doesn't have hinge to hinge, how does it compute to fucking 136? I don't fucking get it. It should be like 137-138 at least.

Either way I feel hopeless, my ideal lense width so my eyes are closer to the center (it looks nicer esthetically, since we know my focal point can be adjusted if I do it in store) is like 53...

We already know my ideal hinge to hinge is 139 or maybe even 140 or bigger.....

Nose bridge depends on nose pads and lense height....

If I'm spending 200$ on glasses I'm getting no bigger than 32 lense height. Sorry not sorry I like the tinier lense height it highlights my features better.

I was wrong about the west farms location being closed... I could still go...

Either way I'm thinking bc of my "fat man face" I'm stuck in wire frames.... I want my eyes close to the center. I want room for my finger under my glasses to touch my temple.....

I mean I'm thinking I'll go to some Eyewear companies nearby and try on frames and see what they cost... idk......

Sue me but I don't want to pay 200$ for silver wire frames or even black ones. I want thick black full frames or black half frames.

I mean I would drop like 100$ on silver wire frames that fit well and my eyes are closer to the center but.... I'm broke. I feel so hopeless.

My MacBook runs like molasses on the lens crafters site at least. And with combining gaming clips and uploading videos to youtube.

I got to go to west farms for the apple store soon anyways... bc of that purple screen of death I got a couple times months ago but I've been too overwhelmed with my life to do anything but my doctors appts...

Anyways, this is why I'd rather accept I can't see well.. run around to different glasses stores in town have every pair I like be too small. Try on ugly ass wire frames that cost 200$ with lenses and yea they'll work but I'm broke. I care about being stylish.

If I got to be a geeky nerd, I at least want to like my Eyewear especially when it comes to it being expensive......

Don't get me wrong a silver wire pair with center eyes that fit my head, half frames would probably look nice on me but there are other styles that would look better.....

Anyways, I'm not allowed to write or think or focus on anything or watch or listen to things without hearing my shitty hallucination...

If I stare mindlessly at this TV I can hallucinate significantly less. So this experience made me not want to even try to find glasses.....

Idk I'm done with comparing this frame with that frame, and being like wow those Ray-Bans above are perfect. My eyes would be almost center... but it would be like squeezing my head into a vice....

And that's the story for all of them and then when I find things I like in my face dimensions, my eyes are near the nose pads.

It really seems like wire frames are my only option.

They can have a wider hinge to hinge and have a smaller lense width. I mean I'll wear them but I'm a nerd. And I want to try to look attractive at the very least.

If Elise really is here, she doesn't get how attractive I find her. She's prettier than any woman I have ever seen like Megan fox is a 5 compared to her. Jessica biel is a 5. Kate from lost is a 5.

And I want Elise to think I'm handsome. Even if we are just friends... I don't want her to be like here is my geeky ugly friend. With his nerdy glasses. She wouldn't say that but I don't want her to think that I'm like a total nerd.

Anyways maybe I'll do west farms on Saturday but lens crafters closes so early... i am starting to think I should try local places and try on frames and if I find one that fits that I like I can have them make my lenses if it's affordable.

[theboarsbride]

Im sure that this is not your intention when you were writing the boar's bride, but i've been in denial about having a little crush on mason verger for a while now, and i think reading your fic only encourages it sjxbjsbxjxskdbsjxb

I know he's shitty and like.. he's the worst character to be attracted to, but what can i say???? I don't even want this, but it got to me, and i found your fic because of it. I literally felt my stomach sinking as i realized and accepted that yes, i have feelings for *that* guy. To be fair, your writing is so good!! It sounds like poetry honestly!!! And its just so interesting!!!! I know its from years ago but thank you for writing it?? I guess?? I mean sjbxsjxjxbbarghhhfuck idk????

WOOF YEAH THAT FIC IS OLD NEWS SHSOKSK:DFD:K I look back on it now and cringe because the writing is so amateur and i did a lot of it at like 3 a.m. and jdkdldldlkdldkfldkdfl I'm so glad you've enjoyed it though!!

It was def meant to be more, like... a psychological thriller with Gothic undertones, and if I ever found the drive to revisit it (I've kinda softly departed from the fandom, though I still have a fondness for the NBC show and Thomas Harris novels) I would absolutely give it more of the horror vibe! (but yeah, in the show, the actor portraying him in season 2 is fine! I don't blame you for the crush, physically! He is so, so, SO wretched, so evil, so fucking awful, I would love to have a chance to write his character again and to do him justice by having him be more awful, more manipulative like in the show.)

But yeah, I feel embarrassed looking back at this fic because I feel like my writing has evolved a lot since then, I feel like I didn't approach the kind of plot I was hoping to explore with some nuance, etc. now that I've kind of grown out of my edgy fic writer era caught in some toxic fandom spaces.

I'm glad you're able to enjoy it, though, truly!!!! This fic (in my head) is so dusty and old that any of mention of it is such a jumpscare for me eHSDLDJDLJDFLDJFDLOJ!!!

The one thing I do still love from this fic is evil shadow boar entity lmfao... sorry Edith </3

#but yeah unless this fits a niche of yours i would not recommend reading this fic #not my best work and hddkddjdkj yeah this is from my cringe fandom era when Covid lockdown kept me bored indoors #and also when my beginning of college was... a weird time???? idk how else to describe it

[inkdrunkworddrunk]

my friend and i share this stupid Gen Z Dark Humor shit that always leaves the Older People flabbergasted. it's always the i-want-to-kill-myself's and i-want-to-die's that get thrown around our conversations. and of course, i know it's a joke.

but the joke only ever applies to him.

every time he delivers another doom-ish line, something along the lines of this-life-is-not-worth-living-at-all, i would give him the inevitable "same," like any digital native would. what always happens after, however, is, i get—and let's use the internet's misused/overly used therapy word—"triggered" by it.

my mind would echo with his words "i hope i die tomorrow..." over and over again until i'm chanting it to myself. i would respond to a shitty TikTok he'd send with an equally shitty meme that would make the both of us do that infamous exhale sharply through my nose but not really laugh thing.

and after the conversation has gone quiet, i would find myself curled up in my bed, doing that whole staring at the ceiling thing that people who are lonely do at 3:10 a.m., going over, once again, for the billionth time, the steps i would take before i do in fact execute what cannot be undone.

i will first write letters. to my friend, as we have joked, told me i should at least write him 2 whole pages of a letter. so i will do just that. 2 whole pages just for him. then i'd write to my parents, probably 5 for each of them. my siblings, maybe 1 for each. and then i'd write on my sticky notes that i never seem to run out of, and i guess would never run out ever, my passwords, to my phone, my bank, my social media accounts. i will also delete my history, so they could at least remain to know me as i've shown them and not someone with an extremely wild imagination and very much so down bad for a fictional character.

then i will tidy up my room, give it a thorough clean. i will wipe down my book shelves. dust away the cobwebs that appears a month after cleaning it off. i will organize my desk. throw out things i don't need to keep. fold my clothes. change my bedsheets. scrub down my bathroom and make my windows squeaky clean. that way my family wouldn't need to clean it out. or maybe they still will.

i will kiss my dog good night.

and of course, i will not deprive myself the opportunity to die pretty. i will wear this blouse that i needed to buy for a university event and pair it up with the flowy floral skirt that i really loved.

the thing is, what my good friend doesn't know, and i guess, never will, is, i already have a plan. i have it all mapped out in my head. how i would do it, where i would do it, when i would it. and it's such a stupidly funny thing that that phrase "you don't really know what's going on with a person" could apply to me, his self-proclaimed best friend. and as far as the best friend thing goes, we are supposed to tell each other every thing, right? we tell each other how our parents are so annoying because, well, they're parents. we talk about how we can rent an apartment together and live like two best buddies would. except, well, i don't tell him anything. he does all the talking. he tells me every single thing, from his first girlfriend, his first car, his solo trips, annoying meetups, to his insecurities that i don't know how to help him with.

my misery has consumed me in ways i have never thought it would. i always thought i would be able to punch my way out of it, crawl if i had to. i didn't realize that the floor would be slippery and made of thick cement, something i definitely cannot punch or crawl my way out of. my fingers are bleeding and my knees are bruised.

i'm tired.

(same💀)

#spilled ink #spilled words #my writing #prose #wrotethis #this is (not) a joke #i didn't realize until a bit recently that jokes like that could be triggering to me #even things i see on tv series or movies or photos #anything that has got to do w/ the implication of k/ll/ng oneself triggers me each form to a certain degree but always a trigger #i didnt realize how fragile i could be