#this will flop because no one will know where this lyrics come from

[munsonslove]

Hi! I love you writing and I was wondering if you could write a fic we’re Eddie and the reader kinda have like a frenemies vibe going on and then one day they sleep together but Eddie has no idea the reader is a virgin because of people saying stories about her and then they sleep together and he finds out after they did it??

Can I Kiss You?

(18+ only)

a/n: thanks so much for the request, & thank you everyone for 1k followers!!! i’m so happy people are liking my little stories <3 a few notes: reader is dustin’s older sister in this fic, but i make it a point to say that she was adopted, so you can def read this as not white reader still. i also briefly mention the reader’s birth parents passing away when she was very young, so tw for family death. and there’s a part where it’s said that the reader’s last name isn’t henderson (because she kept her original surname after being adopted) so if anyone’s reading this and your irl last name is henderson… just like pretend it’s not for a sec? oh also i hid a taylor swift lyric in here. first person to find it wins! anyways i hope y’all like it!!

summary: Your little brother's annoying DM is always hanging around and trying to bother you. Embarrassingly, you developed a crush on him, you were just too proud to do anything about it.

wordcount: 7.3k

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), also adopted!henderson!reader, slight mention of family death, fluff, smut, friends/frenemies to lovers, praise kink, fingering (f receiving), descriptions of masturbation (both f and m receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess), unprotected p in v penetration (she’s on the pill, use condoms irl of course), no use of y/n

“He’s not here,” you deadpan with a roll of your eyes as you open the front door. You weren’t expecting any visitors, so when you heard knocking you were quick to find a makeshift weapon before seeing who it was. Your paranoia diminished when you saw it was merely your little brother's DM.

“I’d be tempted to say ‘how do you know I’m not here to see you?’, but that lamp in your hands has me second guessing myself,” Eddie replies with a laugh, pushing past you to enter your home without permission. “You gonna attack me, princess? Didn’t know you found me that annoying.”

“I’m a young woman home alone, and a lot of really strange things happen in this town,” you explain, setting the lamp back down on the end table. “Sue me for being defensive.”

He shakes off his backpack and tosses on the floor. “Better safe than sorry I guess,” he agrees, though you can hear his amused smirk in his tone. “Why you home alone? Your mom got a hot date or something?”

“Book club,” you correct him while crossing your arms, “And Dustin’s sleeping over at the Wheeler’s.”

Eddie hums in response, licking his lips as he looks you up and down. “Cute pajamas,” he says, winking at you.

At his comment, you realize with a start that your robe had fallen open, and crossing your arms only accentuated the suggestive low cut of your silk nightie. Quickly scrambling to cover yourself and retie the knot, you frustratedly grumble, “What are you even doing here? Dustin didn’t say anything about you coming over.”

He flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and settling into the well-worn cushions, making himself at home. “He talked me into letting him DM for a campaign, so I thought I’d stop by with my copy of the Dungeon Master’s Guide. He was bitching about only having the Player’s Handbook and Monster Manual, so…” he trails off with a shrug as he leans forward to snatch the remote to the TV from next to his boot.

“Get your dirty shoes off of my mother’s clean furniture,” you scold before physically grabbing his ankles and forcing his feet to the floor. “Can you at least pretend to have manners?”

“I could try, but then you wouldn’t have a crush on me anymore,” he laughs, then hooks one of his fingers into the belt of your robe, pulling you down to be seated next to him. He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, not reacting when you retort with a curt ‘In your dreams.’

You know that logistically you could make him leave- this was your home, after all- but the possibility of him actually going without protest was very low. It seemed like Eddie’s favorite thing in the world was annoying you, and sometimes you find yourself missing the days back when he barely acknowledged your existence. He was originally two years ahead of you in school, but due to him being held back twice he ended up being a part of your graduating class. You didn’t run in the same crowd, in fact you couldn’t have been further out of each other’s social spheres. You were quite popular, invited to many parties, even won prom queen your senior year. Eddie, on the other hand, only showed up at parties to sell drugs, and didn’t attend prom for any of his senior years. 

When your little brother entered high school, you worried about him being bullied. You were aware that most of the school’s population were under the impression that Dungeon and Dragons was a devil worshiping cult, and the Hellfire club along with it. Having been exposed to the game for so long thanks to Dustin’s nerdy interests, you knew better than what the propaganda surrounding D&D tried to peddle to the public, but you held concerns that your status-obsessed ‘friends’ wouldn’t be so easily convinced otherwise. Popularity was never something you sought out, it just came naturally to you, and while it was nice always having weekend plans there was no way in hell you were going to let anyone give your baby brother and his friends any shit. If sticking up for your family made the ‘cool kids’ at school not want to have you in their clique, then that was fine by you. To your surprise, everyone seemed to get the message loud and clear that Dustin and his band of misfits were off limits bullying-wise, and you were able to stay relatively well liked by your peers.

The first time you stood up for Dustin, it was a few weeks into his freshman year in the hallway before first period. One of the guys from the basketball team was giving him a hard time, and you marched right up to the meathead jock and shoved him away. You made sure to get your point across that if you ever saw him fucking with your brother again that you weren’t afraid to fight back. The opposing boy cowered away, not expecting one of the most popular girls at Hawkins to so adamantly defend who he considered a ‘nerd’. Word traveled fast, and by lunchtime the hottest gossip was how you sucker-punched Damian Smith square in the jaw outside of Mrs. Hackett’s classroom this morning. It wasn’t true by a long shot, but you found it rather amusing how much the story got twisted when there were so many witnesses. That day was also the first time you spoke to Eddie.

He had cornered you in the cafeteria, and was attempting to use his ‘bad boy, outcast’ demeanor to intimidate you into leaving Dustin alone. Some of the cheerleaders got the attention of their boyfriends, and pretty soon a group had gathered to see why someone at the bottom of the food chain was messing with you. You called them off with a wave of your hand, then took Eddie’s arm to drag him out into the hall and figure out what the hell he was talking about. He clearly had the wrong idea, because he was telling you off about ‘pretending to stand up for the nerdy freshmen’ and how he ‘knew this was part of some elaborate prank’.

He had no idea you were Dustin’s sister. It made sense, you didn’t look all that similar and you didn’t even share a last name. Your biological parents were family friends of the Hendersons, and they died when you were fairly young. You were legally adopted by your godmother, and were raised as a member of the family. Most everyone who you’ve told has tried to console you after learning the truth, and while it is sad that you didn’t get to grow up with your birth mother and father, you know you were lucky to be a Henderson (by love, not by name). Family is family, even if there’s no blood relation, and that’s exactly what you told Eddie. You let him know that he could accuse you of being one of those airheads whose main concern is how many pages of the yearbook they make it on, but that wasn’t going to stop you from beating the shit out of anyone who tried to give your brother a hard time.

With Eddie becoming a close friend of Dustin’s, even somewhat of a role model (much to your dismay), you saw him pretty often. He was always finding excuses to come over, and you suspected it had something to do with his new life mission of bothering you at every waking moment. The two of you didn’t hate each other per se, on the contrary you actually always secretly enjoyed spending time with the metalhead, despite your differences. That being said, your rapport consisted mainly of jestful bantering, constantly trying to have the one-up in the exchange. You both finished high school together, he actually gave you a ride to graduation (not without a snide comment on the length of your dress, prompting a middle finger from you). Now you were taking a gap year before college and he was staying in Hawkins to focus on his music, the plan being to move to Indianapolis when the final member of Corroded Coffin graduated. With the freedom awarded by not attending Hawkins anymore- from both the stressful preparation for another four years of school and the pressure to stick to the status quo- you found yourself spending a lot of downtime with Eddie. You’re not quite sure either of you would readily call the other a friend, but maybe relationship labels were overrated. All you knew was that if Dustin was hitching a ride home, you could count on Eddie’s van being parked in the driveway for at least a couple hours while he berated you inside.

Lately though, the playful bickering between you two morphed into what almost felt like flirting. Eddie seemed to be laying it on thicker and thicker each time he came to see you, as if he was testing the waters for how much he could get away with without you getting upset. What he didn’t know, however, was that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on him for a while now. After actually getting to know him through the excuse of you both caring about Dustin, you came to the realization that he’s not all bad like his reputation.

Eddie switches on the TV, turning it to your favorite channel without asking and setting the remote back down on the table. It’s the little gestures like these that have you falling harder for him everyday. You lose your train of thought getting lost in fantasies of doing exactly this with him, only while being able to call him your boyfriend. You’re ripped back to reality when his arm shifts from the back of the couch to actually over your shoulders. His face doesn’t show any sign that he thinks of this as overly intimate, so you try to not let any reaction show.

Some hours pass this way, and you wonder how long Eddie plans to stay for. You silently pray that your neighbors won’t say anything to your mom about his van parked in the driveway, but even if they do, the tingling you felt in your chest was well worth it- and besides, no matter what she said, you were an adult. Just as you're thinking this, Eddie stands to pick his bag up off of the floor, slipping the books he brought out onto the coffee table, before zipping it back up and holding it awkwardly in his hands.

“I guess I should probably get going,” he says with a shrug, “It’s getting late, and your mom will be home soon.”

“She said they were going to drink wine,” you respond. “You know Claudia, she wouldn’t drive after having even a sip. She’s going to sleep on her friend’s couch.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes lighting up a little before he purses his lips and looks out the window. “Well, it’s pretty dark out now. I don’t wanna keep you up…”

There’s a brief pocket of silence, neither of you wanting to be the one to suggest what you’re thinking for fear of the other not returning the same feeling. You don’t want your disappointment at the idea of him not staying to be too evident, but you’re not sure how convincing you’re being. Your gaze drops down to his pretty lips, distracted by how he’s biting them, and wishing you could bite them instead. Faintly, so faintly you’re almost unsure if you even really heard it, he speaks your name, bringing your attention back to his eyes. You watch as he gathers the courage for his next words. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s like time stops. You resist the urge to squeal like a little girl with a crush, but that is exactly how you feel. Slowly, you nod your head before moving your lips to say, ‘Yes,’ though no sound escapes you. He drops the bag, and kicks it out of the way when it lands at his feet before taking long strides toward you. The both of you lean forward, and he tilts his head slightly to make room for your noses. His breath fans your lips as he hesitates to close the distance. Impatient after months of pining, you grab him by the zipper of his jacket and finally do what you’ve been dreaming about for so long. 

His lips are as soft as they look, and you conclude that your theory about his chapstick addiction is correct. With as much as he smokes (medicinal or otherwise), he must moisturize them pretty often. He actually tastes very faintly of tobacco, and you remember how he said he was trying to quit and only smoked cigarettes when he was jittery. You wonder if that meant that you make him as nervous as he makes you. The dirty taste was thankfully mostly covered up by a strong minty flavor, and that only makes you wonder even more, this time about if he also obsesses over little detail when he knows he’s going to see you. Whenever Dustin would inform you Eddie was on his way over, you would find yourself primping in front of the mirror, making sure your hair fell in place just the right way and your skin was clear of any blemishes. You even did this before you fully understood your feelings for the man were romantic. Picturing him having the afterthought to pop a mint before driving over to see you had you smiling against his lips.

“What?” he laughs, pulling away from you slightly and raising an eyebrow with both curiosity and amusement.

“Nothing,’ you reply, giggling softly. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? What about?” he asks, leaning in once again to peck you chastely before simply resting his forehead against your and gazing into your eyes. He walks you backwards, back to the couch and sits, pulling you down next to him.

You shake your head, still smiling. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and it was too much to explain, especially when the only thing you wanted was for him to kiss you silly. “Not now. Just come here,” you whisper as you thread your fingers through his hair and push yourself flush against him, ending up fully sat in his lap with his hands gripping your thighs.

You two last like this for a while, (mostly) innocently kissing, just enjoying the feeling of finally giving into temptation. Pretty soon, Eddie’s touch begins to roam, and your hips begin to rock. It was very quickly crossing the line from PG-13 to R. When you feel his cock harden beneath you, you make up your mind about what you want to happen.

“Eddie,” you moan while his tongue circles a bite mark he left on your neck, soothing the sting. He dismisses the sound, lost in his own world as his hands find purchase on your butt, assisting your movements against him. “Eddie,” you try again, shaking his shoulders slightly.

He immediately slides his hands up to a more modest area on your waist, and he lifts his head away from your neck to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, and his hair is wild. “Yeah, baby?” he says, sounding out of breath.

“Do you want to go to my room?” you ask. You can tell by the way he glances back down at your lips, then to your thighs, and finally back up to your eyes, that he knows exactly what you are implying.

“A- are you sure?” he forces out, barely believing what he’s hearing.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

You’re both hurrying down the hallway, nearly tripping over each other’s feet in your haste. The walk to your bedroom is short, but after putting off the inevitable for so long, you can barely wait and have to resist jumping his bones before reaching your destination. Throwing open the door, he ushers you inside and shuts it behind him.

Eddie’s heavy leather jacket thuds as it hits the floor, his shirt being discarded soon after. Your mouth waters at the sight of his tattoos, but you barely have time to admire his partial nudity. He’s on top of you in a flash, pressing you into the wall and kissing you passionately. His curious hands rake over your body, and their wandering loosen the knot on your robe’s belt, causing the thick fabric to open slightly and expose your collarbone. Like a man starved, Eddie’s lips never lose contact with you as he rips the tie from your body, almost making you fall with the force behind it. He steadies you with his hands back on your waist, this time underneath the robe, and you can feel his touch so much better with only the thin silk of your nightgown between you. Shrugging the robe off, he helps you pull it down your arms before tossing it onto your carpet, and the cold air of your bedroom is fought off by his body warmth invading every inch of you.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” he whispers gravelly after parting his lips from yours.

He doesn’t need to clarify what exactly he wants, because you want it all with him. “I do,” you confirm.

He leads you over to your bed, a queen-sized four-poster, still unmade from this morning. You climb on top and turn to face him while sitting on your knees. He looms over you, standing at the foot of the bed with you kneeling on the mattress in front of him. His pretty eyes darken as he looks down and takes in your form.

“God, I like you like this,” he laughs from above you, “Is this what I gotta do for you to shut your mouth?”

“You like my mouth” you shoot back, sitting up to reach him and tangling your hands in his curls. You make a fist, thus pulling his hair slightly.

He grunts as you tug on his locks, but doesn’t let the innuendo in your last comment go. “You do have a real nice mouth,” he says as he swipes his thumb against your bottom lip. Before he can retract his hand, you open your mouth and suck the digit into it, swirling your tongue around the tip while looking up at him from behind your eyelashes.

“Fuck, baby,” he brokenly breathes out. 

The only thing you see in his eyes is pure unadulterated lust, and you feel your belly grow warmer at the thought of what he was going to do about it. He withdraws his hand only to place it on your neck, his palm on the front of your windpipe. He’s not applying any pressure, so you can’t call it choking, but just the implication of such a touch has arousal pooling in your underwear. His thumb is warm and wet on your throat, and when he trails his hand from your neck to the back of your head, the breeze of air on the leftover saliva makes your skin feel cool. Eddie drops his head and his lips meet yours once again, but only just barely making contact. You try to deepen the kiss, but he’s returned the favor of holding onto a tuft of your hair, making it impossible to press against him more firmly without your hair being pulled. He laughs at your cries of protest, but gives in, sucking on your bottom lip and nipping at it before licking his tongue past the threshold of your mouth.

Kissing like this isn’t the most comfortable, what with the springs of your mattress digging into your knees and your neck craning up to be able to reach Eddie, but you could stay in this position for hours if it meant he was going to keep touching you the way he was. The hand not tangled and tugging at your hair was sliding up your side, dragging the silk of your nightie up. He bunched the fabric up in a fist, which caused it to be lifted enough that your cotton panties were on display. You briefly worry about whether he was going to think the underwear you had on was sexy or not, considering it wasn’t silky or lacy like your nightgown was. It was just a simple and comfortable pair of navy blue panties with a white elastic waistband. 

While you were busy overthinking, Eddie bent at his knees and kissed down your jaw, releasing your hair to raise the fabric on the other side of your nightie up to the same level, then backed away to pull it the rest of the way up over your head and off your body. You felt a little self conscious, bare chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that wasn’t even sexy. Your arms went to fold in front of you, but Eddie dropped the silk and  grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Don’t cover yourself,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

Blood rushes to your head as you bite back a smile at his compliment. Any anxiety you previously felt about him judging you vanishes, and in its place comes even more need. Eddie tells you to lay down as he softly nudges your shoulder, and you do as he says with no contest. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties before waiting for one last head nod from you. When you give the okay and lift your hips, he slowly pulls the fabric off of you, sucking in a breath when your bare pussy finally crosses his line of sight.

He crawls onto the bed and kisses up your torso, starting at your hip bone and making his way all the way up to your clavicle. The hard tent in his jeans rubs against the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he spends extra time marking up your neck, and you get impossibly wetter at the proof of the effect you have on him. When he pulls away, the mattress dips by both sides of your face due to him propping himself up by his arms. His legs bend as he sits up, successfully caging you in, and he takes a moment to just look at you.

“I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay baby?” he says quietly, one of his hands leaving their spot next to your head as he traces his fingertips lightly down the dip in between your breasts, over your belly button, and caresses your dripping slit.

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter out your consent. With your brain as cloudy as it was, you weren’t entirely sure what he was proposing, but you were at a point by now where you would agree to anything.

His middle digit slips easily past the soaked folds around your weeping hole, and he circles the entrance teasingly, collecting your juices before finally breaching, and just his fingertip enters into you. An embarrassing high pitched squeak escapes from your throat, and you raise yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to you.

“You wanna watch as I warm you up with my fingers, princess?” he croons at you sweetly. “It’s pretty, ain’t it?”

You take a deep gasp of air as his finger disappears further into you, his hands are bigger and tougher than your own, and the difference is very noticeable. He bends and straightens his wrist over and over, pumping in and out of you with ease, and the foreign feeling is strange yet pleasurable. Another finger slides inside, and he works them into you, opening you up. He’s determined to make the next step after this as satisfying for you as possible.

“You’re so wet and tight, baby. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock,” he practically mewls. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and it only steers you closer to your climax. “You want that, baby? You wanna make me feel good? Make me crave you all the time, even more than I already do?”

His words are slurring together as he rambles on about how perfect he knows your pussy is going to feel around him. For the life of you, you can’t form any response that isn’t loud moaning, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You feel the build up inside of you start, and your entire body tenses involuntarily as you prepare for what you know will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum? My princess is gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod your head to the best of your ability given that the muscles in your neck are locked up. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you cum. Show me, and I promise I’ll fuck you so good, so right. I’ll fuck you as many times as you let me, and I’ll do it anyway you want. Hard, slow, soft, fast… Just show me how perfect my girl is when she’s cumming around my fingers and I’ll give you what you need”

His promises push you over the edge, and you finish while crying out his name. Literally, you feel moisture leak from your eyes as your head pushes into the pillow beneath you. Eddie leans forward to kiss away the tears, all while still fingering you, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” you hear as you start to come back to the world. His hand slows down slightly, more focused on a deep and sensual rhythm, and you feel his hot breath on your temple as he continues to soothe you through your come down. “Did such a good job, sounded so pretty moaning my name, wanna make you make those sounds forever…”

He trails off as he pulls his hand away, and you both stare at his hand and watch how the light reflects off the glistening slick coating his fingers. He plunges them into his mouth, and groans around them at the taste as your jaw drops in disbelief. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Still recovering from both your shock and intense orgasm, you grunt out in annoyance when Eddie rolls off of you and stands up. You’re about to complain at the loss of contact, until you realize his reason for doing so was to unbutton his jeans. You instantly rise. Your head feels dizzy from sitting up too fast, but you push through the lightheadedness in order to give your full attention to what was about to happen.

Eddie hurriedly moves to yank his tight jeans down his legs, stumbling slightly but regaining his balance enough to not fall, then succeeds pulling down the denim and kicking his legs out of it. His legs are pale- as could be suspected from wearing nothing but full length pants in Indiana- and they look rather soft. You want to reach your hand out and graze his calf to see if they’re as soft as they appear, or if looks are deceiving and his dark wisps of leg hair actually have a coarse texture. There’s no time to dwell on that instinct, as very soon after discarding his pants he follows his boxers with them, and you’re distracted by hair in another area.

Eddie’s cock springs to his stomach when he straightens up from pulling off his underwear. The sight of it both makes you want to spread your legs and squeeze your thighs together, but the choice is made for you when Eddie takes your knee with one of his hands and settles between your legs on the bed. His lips met yours as his shaft grazed your soaked lips, brushing against your clit and causing you to buck up into hip, but your hips are pinned down by his pelvis. The pressure allows some relief, but you crave more.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “Please fuck me, Eddie.” You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you’re far past the point of no return as far as shame goes.

“Do you have protection?” he asks, in between kisses. “I didn’t bring condoms. I didn’t think- I didn’t expect you to actually-”

“I’m on the pill,” you cut him off. “Just fuck me.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, “Are you sure, princess?”

“Please, Eds,” you whine, “I need you.”

“You need me, baby?” he smiles against you while you nod your head. His teeth clash with yours as you try to pull him somehow closer to you than he already is. “I know what you need. I’m gonna give it to you, don’t worry.”

He lifts himself up so that he can grasp the base of his shaft, and slides up and down your slit before he positions the head of his cock to be poking your entrance. There was a stinging sensation as he stretched you out, sinking in slowly inch by inch until you can’t take anymore and have to stop him.

“Too big?” he asks, and the tone of his voice leads you to believe he’s asking this with genuine concern rather than inflating his own ego. He really doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I just need a s- second,” you stutter out while adjusting your pelvis, trying to ease the dull ache.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmurs while pecking you on the tip of your nose. Your hand immediately flies up to guide his lips to your own, and the emotion behind the kiss distracts you from the tenseness you feel, allowing you to loosen up slightly.

“God,” he moans, “you feel even more perfect than I imagined.”

A smug smirk crosses your face and you lift an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve imagined?” you ask, tilting your head and chuckling.

“Don’t act you haven’t fucked yourself with those fingers of yours while calling out my name,” he responds with a challenging look, “I can just picture it now, your sheets all crumpled from you tossing and turning, your hands cramping up but you ignoring it cause you’re so desperate to cum. Tell me, princess, when we would hang out, how long would you wait after I left to run up here and start rubbing this pretty little clit.”

As he tortures you with these (very true) accusations, his right hand snakes its way in between your bodies to start playing with your clit. He touches the nub with the tip of his thumb, applying pressure before rolling it in gentle circles. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he says, his lips now moving against your jaw as you focus on relaxing and getting used to the feeling of him inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and answer me?”

His vulgar words combined with his hand’s actions send you a wave of slick arousal, and suddenly you’re ready, and you want him deeper. “Eddie,” you whine, “more.”

“Nuh-uh,” he mutters, not moving an inch and keeping that deviously slow pace with his fingers. “I wanna hear about you touching yourself, princess.”

“Ugh!” you groan, kicking your leg out like a kid throwing a tantrum. “Eddie! It’s embarrassing!”

“No it’s not,” he comforts you, his left hand stroking your cheekbone as he leans down to kiss you sweetly on the lips. “When I’m thinking of you, I like to go nice and slow at first…”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do. He’s going to tell you about him getting off to dirty thoughts of you. It should disgust you to know the boy who was teasing you and picking little fights for the past almost two years has been fantasizing about you, but it only gets you going more. You force your eyes open to look at him, and he’s already staring deeply at you, his face showing no signs of mocking.

“I think about those pretty lips, so soft. I think about what they’d feel like on my skin, around my cock.” His unabashed admissions are doing nothing to help with how impatient you’re getting, but his fingers stop circling your clit when you try to slide down deeper onto his dick yourself.

“I know you want it baby, but I’m trying to talk to you,” he whispers, “You don’t wanna be rude, do you? You already wouldn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry,” you whimper weakly, hoping that if you play along he’ll hurry up.

“So sweet for me,” he says as his hand starts up again and he nips at the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. “I knew you’d be sweet. I knew your tough girl act was a show. All the times you got mouthy and bratty with me, you just wanted to be my sweet, good girl.”

“I take off everything but my panties. And then I lay down in bed, with the fan on cause I get hot. And I start feeling up my stomach-”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “What are you talking about, princess?”

You bang your head on the pillow and start squirming. “I’m answering your question,” you whimper, “You’re taking too long, Eddie, I need it!”

His fingers circle your clit fast and he finally, finally sinks the rest of the way in you, bottoming out and filling you up so deep and full. “Keep going,” he orders as he starts rocking in and out of you at such a cruelly slow rate. As if reading your mind, he adds on, “I’ll go faster if you keep going.”

“Fuck, Eds,” you moan out in ecstasy, your mind empty and only able to think about his cock and what he’s doing to you. But you want- no, need- him to go faster, so you summon every brain cell you have and force yourself to speak semi-coherently.

“I feel up my stomach til I get goosebumps, and I start massaging my tits and thinking about what it would feel like if it was your h-hands,” you start to stutter as his left hand mimics your descriptions, tickling your abdomen as it makes its way to your chest. “And while I did that, I would spit on my fingers a little bit then stick my hand in my underwear, and I would start rubbing my clit.”

“And you imagined it was me doing it?” he interrupts, now thrusting into you a little harder and a little deeper, his hand massaging your breast before taking a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger and rolling it gently. 

You nod your head, too lost in the feeling to answer verbally. He really started to pick up the speed now, hitting a spot in you that you were never quite able to reach on your own, and it’s so sinfully delicious that you feel like you’re going to black out from the intensity of the pleasure. He feels so perfect moving against you, the velvety skin of his cock merging so right with your inner walls. You chastise yourself for holding out for so long, if you had known how blissful it would be, you would have confessed the day you realized your feelings. The idea that you could have been doing this for nearly a year has you cursing whatever forces that kept you apart, though a bitter voice in the back of your head reminded you it was your own stubbornness.

“Then what do you do?” he urges you on.

“Um, I would stay like that for a little while,” you continue, finding it difficult to get your thoughts out into full sentences, “and then when I was close I would… um, like stop playing with my tits. So that I could use that hand to finger myself.”

“Fuck, princess. The way you describe it… I bet you look so pretty when you’re touching yourself,” he groans, now pummeling in and out of you in a steady, fast rhythm. His eyes keep switching between watching you and being scrunched closed, like he’s trying to focus on making this last but still wants to look at your face. “I wanna see it someday. Will you show me?”

“Yeah, mhm, sure,” you agree, not even really paying attention to what he was asking you due to being too lost in what you were experiencing. Your orgasm was near, and you wouldn’t be able to hold it off for much longer. “Eddie, I’m close,” you warn, your nails digging into his back as your arms tighten around his neck.

“Me too, baby,” he says back. The rocking of his hips combined with the closeness of his face caused his lips to brush against yours in a repeated pattern, and the intimacy of that only builds your climax up faster. “Where do you want it?”

Eddie Munson, the bane of your existence for the past couple of years is asking you where you want him to cum. “Inside,” you answer without thought. “Inside me, Eds, I wanna feel you leaking out of me.”

“Oh fuck. You can’t say shit like that to me. How am I supposed to keep living my life like normal after this?” he whines, “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to go first.”

As he finishes telling you this, the wire snaps and you feel electricity shoot throughout your body. Your second orgasm is much stronger than your first, and considering how the first one had you nearly losing consciousness, that was really saying something. The shockwaves make you feel like you’re literally vibrating around him, and being able to feel his dick twitching as he released his load into you only added to that feeling. You were a moaning mess, gasping in and puffing out little breaths of air as you hopelessly cry out, ‘I’m cumming, Eddie, you’re making me cum,’ along with assorted swears over and over and over. His grip on your waist loosened as he wrapped his arms around your middle and held on tight, burying his head into your neck as he rode out his own orgasm. He muttered something into your skin that you couldn’t quite make out with it being muffled, but it sounded suspiciously close to, ‘I love you,’ and your heart leapt at that possibility.

After a few minutes, after you both gathered yourselfs, he rolled over onto his back and you cuddled up to his side. Your head rested on his bare chest and your arms hugged around his stomach, pulling him as close as you could.

“So,” he starts, his arms folded behind his head and a crooked grin adorning his face, “was I the biggest you’ve taken, or does that happen with all the guys you bring home?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you turn your head to look at him. “What do you mean?” you manage to mumble out.

“I mean, how tight you were. And how you couldn’t take all of me at first,” he says, like it was obvious.

“Well, in sex-ed they said the first time usually hurts. This wasn’t as bad as I was expecting though, just kinda stung a little bit at first,” you explain, laying your head flat against him once more and scraping at the nail on your index finger with your thumb.

Eddie stops moving and is quiet for a good thirty seconds. You start to feel a trickling of doubt, and become anxious that you somehow said the wrong thing. He reaches up to take your hand in his, effectively stopping your nervous finger picking and stealing your attention. When you glance back up at him he’s staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Princess,” he says slowly, like somehow you were the one in this situation not making any sense, “You’re not telling me that was your first time.”

Oh. You suppose that was a pretty important tidbit of information you withheld that he probably would’ve liked to have known before you engaged in intercourse. In your defense, there was no reason for him to assume you weren’t a virgin. You only graduated high school the year prior, and during your time at Hawkins you never had a serious boyfriend. Even when you were being crowned prom queen, your date to the dance was James McKenna, and he came out as gay the week after graduation before moving to New York. Sure, you were privy to the rumors thrown around in the boy’s locker room about what you did to this guy under the bleachers and what you did to that guy at Skull Rock, but there was no more gossip surrounding you than the average cheerleader.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly feeling guilty for not being completely transparent. “I guess I just thought you knew, or like, would be able to tell?” you say, your intonation changing to a questioning lilt by the end of your sentence.

He starts blinking his wide eyes frantically, his head shaking in disbelief as he tries to think of what to say. That self conscious dread from earlier starts to sneak it’s way back in, and you begin having second thoughts, worrying if he- like your high school friends- thought it was weird that you waited to have sex. He must have noticed the fear in your eye, because he held you tighter against him and comfortingly rubbed up and down your forearm.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he says, speaking quickly. “I guess I just assumed. I mean, you were so popular. Everyone wanted you, anyone would have been lucky to have you-” you smile and blush at his words- “And those guys on the basketball team were always bragging and telling stories-”

“If a plate of spaghetti grew legs and started walking around, those guys would claim that they fucked it. Why would you listen to that noise?” you interjected, your annoyance clear.

He held his hands up in defense. “You’re right, I don’t know why I believed any of that crap. I know you have better taste than that. I mean, you like me, so that proves you have a much more sophisticated taste in men.”

“Sophisticated is one word for it, I guess,” you mumble while rolling your eyes, before sitting up to grab your nightie from the foot of the bed.

“If you weren’t active, why were you on the pill?” he questions you while rubbing your back.

“I’m a grown woman. I figured it was going to happen eventually, and I wanted to make sure I was ready when it did,” you answer distractedly as you work on turning your pajamas the right side out.

Eddie hums in understanding but is otherwise quiet as he watches you redress yourself, except for a cheeky wolf whistle when you need to bend over to pick up your panties. Once you're covered up again, you turn around to see him staring at you in amusement.

“What?” you ask with a smile, climbing back onto the bed and throwing a leg over his thighs, settling onto his lap. The tips of your noses brush against each other as you see that gleam in his eyes you recognize as him trying to stifle laughter when teasing you. “What is it?” you repeat, shoving him gently on his chest before looping your arms around his neck.

He shakes with silent laughter then leans back to quirk a brow at you. “A plate of spaghetti?” he asks. You grab a pillow to hit him in the head with, but drop it when you’re tackled and pinned down, giggling and kicking your feet as he kisses up your collar bone.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

[ghostxrose]

Nicotine | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Summary ~ When you started dating Shota, you knew what you were signing up for. What you didn’t expect to happen was for everything between you both to come crumbling down, leaving you pinned beneath the rubble and Shota not even realizing it.

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW content, Inspired by Nicotine by Panic at the Disco, hurt no comfort, angst, failed relationship, past relationship neglect, cursing, break up, sad ending, use of Y/N

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, I wrote this one night when I was craving some angst, lol. I did include some of the lyrics from Nicotine, sorry if it's cringe. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the read? It is very angst forward so.. I don't know.. trigger warning..? Love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

You had shown up to his apartment not long after he called..

Again.

As soon as you were through the door, the two of you had dove right into sloppily making out and pawing off each other’s clothing..

Again.

You two had taken your heaving chests, kiss bitten lips, panted moans, and lust heated bodies straight to his bedroom without having a proper conversation beforehand..

Again!

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm taking over your mind, as Shota gives one last thrust and groans into your mouth in one last open-mouthed sloppy kiss as he cums. He stays on top of you for a moment, lazily making out with you, before he slowly pulls out and flops onto his back next to you.

As you both lay there panting and coming down from your highs you close your eyes. Shota slowly gets up, tying off the condom and heading to the bathroom to throw it away and clean himself up.

The post-orgasm clarity hits you and the feeling of disappointment fills you as you sit up. You let out a heavy sigh as you rub your hands over your still flushed face and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes scan the floor for your clothes, more negative and heavy emotions stacking themselves on top of the disappointment. Collecting your clothes from off of the floor, you start to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” Shota asks from the doorway of the bathroom, startling you a bit.

You don’t turn around to face him because you know that his face is either it’s usual tired disinterest or it’s occasional tired confusion.

“I’m getting dressed.” You state, attempting to make your tone blank and void of emotion.

“That much was obvious, (Y/N). Why are you getting dressed?” He says, his tone slightly more irritated than normal.

“This was a mistake, Shota.” You bite out, already feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

You feel the bed dip behind you and hear Shota let out an exasperated breath as he sits down heavily.

“You said that the last three times we.. did this. I don’t understand what the problem i-”

“The problem is that we are stuck in this horrible on and off situation, Shota. I.. I can’t do it anymore..” You say, cutting him off and trying so desperately to keep your tone controlled and even.

“The only reason we’re ‘on and off’ is because you thought that being with a Pro Hero who also teaches full-time would be a walk in the fucking park, (Y/N).” Shota angrily spits, both of you still sitting with your backs facing each other.

A bitter rage floods your body and you lose the will to hold back any longer, “I never thought that, Shota! I knew it would be difficult but I was ready to put in the effort required to make it fucking work! I poured so much effort int-”

“I did, t-” Shota’s raised voice cut you off but you only let him get those couple of words out before doing the same.

“In the beginning you did, yes! But where did it go, Shota?!” You yell, turning around to face him.

“(Y/N)..” He growls out but you don’t let him get any further, once again, as everything that you’ve been trying to bury bubbles out of you.

“It’s been a year since our last date! A fucking year! All we do anymore is sleep, fuck, and go to work! I can barely remember the last meal we shared together! I fucking understood what it was that I had signed up for but it got to a point where I didn’t even feel like we were in a relationship anymore!” You continue yelling, your whole body heated from anger and tears streaming down your face.

“Y- you’re.. You’re worse than nicotine, Shota! I keep telling myself ‘one more hit and then we’re through’ but I can’t fucking stay away from you! It’s like I can constantly taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you! Every single day, whether I’m with or without you, fucking hurts!” Your yells crumble into choked sobs and you bury your face into your hands.

Shota is standing across from you, the bed between you both, just staring at you in silence. His eyes are the slightest bit shiny, his face is scrunched up as if he is in pain, and it’s the most emotion that you’ve seen on his face in a year. His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out. You compose yourself enough to look up at him with a heated glare.

“Did you even love me back the same way I loved you, Shota?” You ask bitterly. You’re met with more silence and nod your head with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“We’re done for real this time, Aizawa. Don’t fucking call me again.” You spit out as you gather the rest of your stuff and make your way out of his apartment.

You sit in your car for a few minutes screaming and choking on hard sobs over the pain of your heart shattering. “This was the last fucking time!! I fucking swear it!!”  You scream at your steering wheel, praying to any and every higher power that may be out there to give you the strength to resist getting one more fucking hit.

Note ~ Someone please tell me that I am not the only one who will actively seek out angst, sometimes.. Is it healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to look for or write angst? Yes. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love! My amazing Lovelies, I love and appreciate all of you! <3

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #angst #aizawa smut #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead smut #hurt/angst #no comfort #breakup #failed relationship #bnha #mha #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x you

[parkerslatte]

Songbird || TWELVE

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood

Word Count: 3.7k

Part Summary: The band records songs for Aurora and Y/N attends a party with Daisy.

previous chapter / next chapter

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist

•••

TRACK TWELVE;

MANEATER

...

DAISY JONES: We must’ve written eight or nine songs the first couple weeks. I would have an idea, and then he’d flesh it out, or he would come up with a riff, and I’d come up with a melody line.

BILLY DUNNE: When you’re making an album, any album, it’s an intimate thing. I mean, it has to be.

DAISY JONES: Which isn’t to say we didn’t fight.

BILLY DUNNE: Oh we were fighting constantly.

WARREN ROJAS: For a month it was like that. We’d be in the studio, you know, recording all the arrangements, and they’d be who knows where doing god knows what.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everyday they’d come in with something new.

KAREN SIRKO: I mean great fucking songs.

Y/N L/N: Even though I didn’t want to be in the band, I can’t fault the songs, they were great, amazing even.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: And every night, they’d come in giggling like two little schoolgirls. 

INTERVIEWER: Did it concern you?

GRAHAM DUNNE: Not really. Not yet, anyway. I mean…like whatever they were doing…it was working.

INTERVIEWER: How was Y/N adjusting to being in a band?

KAREN SIRKO: She adjusted well, it was only the arguments that was a concern.

…

“I did everything you told me to do, Billy!” Y/N yelled into the microphone. 

“But it’s not good enough,” Billy says from the booth, “Try again.”

Y/N sighed, and began to play again but as soon as she started playing, Billy cut her off again.

“In what possible way was that wrong,” Y/N exclaimed, “I played one note.”

“It was the wrong note.” Billy says, trying to remain calm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You need to get your hearing checked.”

Billy turns to Teddy, “It was the right note, Billy.”

A smirk appeared on Y/N’s face at Billy’s annoyed expression. 

“Again.” Billy ordered. 

Once again as soon as Y/N began to play Billy interrupted her. 

“Right,” Y/N says, “This is bullshit.”

Y/N lifted the guitar and placed it back on its stand. With one final glare at Billy, she left the room, joining the rest of the band. 

“You finished?” Karen questioned. 

“Nope,” Y/N said, flopping down on the couch next to Eddie, “Apparently Billy needs to get his hearing checked because everything I’m doing is wrong.”

Billy came storming out of the booth, his eyes focussed on Y/N, “Get back in the studio now, Y/N, you’re wasting time.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, “So you can stop me every two seconds, I’d say you’re the one who’s wasting time.”

“Billy, just give her a break,” Karen says, “She’s been in the studio all day.”

“And so have the rest of us.” Billy says.

“Yeah, but we haven’t been yelled at for the past two hours.” Eddie muttered. 

Billy sent a glare Eddie’s way before his gaze landed back on Y/N, “Y/N, get back in the studio.”

…

KAREN SIRKO: Billy didn’t know when to stop when he argued with Y/N. 

WARREN ROJAS: Y/N never let her emotions show much, but I could tell that she was getting to her breaking point.

CAMILA DUNNE: I knew how Billy was treating Y/N and I wasn’t standing for it. She was my best friend and he was treating her awfully. I knew they didn’t like each other but that was no excuse.

BILLY DUNNE: Y/N got on my last nerve. She always wanted things her way. 

Y/N L/N: Billy was a controlling prick.

DAISY JONES: I knew that Y/N didn’t want to be in the band, and I didn’t understand why she was in the band. Her talent shouldn’t have been pushed to the side like it was. 

…

The band sat around in the studio waiting for Billy and Y/N to come back with their new song. Y/N sat with her guitar, carelessly strumming a tune she had come up with, humming along to lyrics she had written months ago that was meant to be for her album. 

“I like that melody.” Graham says. 

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled, “I was working on it for my album.”

Graham began to listen to the song as Y/N continued to strum her guitar. As he began to play her own guitar, working with what Y/N had already created, she turned to him and smiled. One by one each member of the band began to play along with Y/N and Graham. It didn’t sound fantastic but to Y/N it sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. 

“Sing the song.” Graham says.

“I wrote the song as a duet,” Y/N says, “Eddie, would you be able to sing the other part.”

“Me?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N smiled and reached down to her bag and pulled out her notebook, turning to the correct page and held it out to Eddie.

“The green ink is what you’re meant to sing. You’ll pick up the melody.”

Everyone began to play what they were before, slowly getting a good balance. Y/N began to sing everything melted away, the only thing she concentrated on was the music. Y/N signalled that Eddie should start singing. As he began he was out on timing which caused Y/N to smile but he soon got into a rhythm. 

Their voices complimented each other perfectly. Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Every member of the band got into the rhythm of the song, fully enjoying themselves for not being told what to do, they all got to freely play what they wanted. 

The door to the studio opened and in walked Billy and Daisy. Daisy slowed down her walk as she listened to the song, meanwhile Billy let out an annoyed sigh. Y/N was the first to notice and she stopped singing and playing, everyone followed her actions. 

“What’s going on here?” Billy questioned.

“Y/N wrote a song and we were playing around with it,” Graham answered, “It’s a great song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy says.

“Come on,” Warren says, “It’s a great fucking song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy repeated. 

“I think it should go on the album.” Daisy intervened.

“Thank you Daisy.” Y/N says and Billy rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not going on the album,” Billy says, “And that’s final.”

“Okay,” Daisy challenged, “Then I want Y/N to sing The River with me.”

The room fell silent. 

“It’s one or the other Billy,” Daisy says, “Her song goes on the album or she sings The River with me.”

…

Y/N L/N: Originally I never wanted my song to go on the album, but the look on Billy’s face when Daisy gave him that ultimatum was what made me want to have my song on the album. 

DAISY JONES: We recorded Y/N’s song that day. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y/N’s song was my favourite on the album, still is. 

WARREN ROJAS: I think that was the most laid back recording we did. Y/N took the reins on it and let us fuck around with it. It was a good day.

…

“Camila!” Y/N says, entering the house through the front door.

“Y/N,” Camila says, coming around the corner, “I didn’t know you were coming around today.”

“It wasn’t originally,” Y/N admitted, “But figured that since Billy isn’t here, I would come around. I haven’t seen Julia in ages. How are you by the way? We haven’t had the chance to sit and talk in a while.”

“I’ve been okay,” Camila says, sitting down on the couch next to Y/N, “I’ve been busy with Julia, she’s getting to the point where I can’t leave her unattended for too long or they’ll be another broken glass on the floor.”

“Billy hasn’t helped at all?” Y/N questioned.

“He has barely been here,” Camila says, an edge to her voice, “And when he is here, he’s always on the phone with Daisy.”

“I would say that I would have a talk with him, but we all know how that would go, so…”

Camila laughed, “It’s fine, you don’t need to talk to him, I’ll try to when he gets home, whenever that will be.”

“Hey, if you ever need help with anything, you can call me and I’ll answer and be here as quick as I can.” Y/N says, talking ahold of Camila’s hand, “If you need any help with Julia or even a break from her, I’ll babysit her and you can go and take as many photos until you literally can’t anymore.”

“Oh,” Camila says, getting to her feet, “That reminds me.”

Camila walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer, “I forgot I developed these photos ages ago and I thought you would want them.”

Walking back over to Y/N, Camila handed her three photos and Y/N’s heart sank. The photos were of her and Eddie from the Christmas her first single was released. The first photo was just after Y/N handed Eddie his gift. The two were looking intently into each other’s eyes, a look of adoration on their faces. 

Flipping to the next photo, Y/N’s heart sank even more when she saw it. In the photo, she was staring at the camera with a smile while Eddie looked at her. The look on his face couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than love. 

The final photo ripped Y/N’s heart out and threw it on the ground. The photo was taken when neither of them were aware. The two were cuddled up on the couch. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Eddie’s torso while his arm was wrapped around her waist and the other held onto her arm. Her head rested on his chest while his head was dipped, his lips brushing her forehead. 

“When did you take this photo?” Y/N questioned.

“The same day,” Camila says, “It was a cute photo, I took it when you both weren’t looking.”

“Stalker.” Y/N jokes. 

Y/N placed the photos back in a stack and handed them back to Camila.

“Don’t you want them?” Camila questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“I just-I just don’t think I need them.” Y/N says.

Camila saw right through Y/N’s lie, “What else is going on? Because months ago, you would have been excited to have these.”

Y/N sighed, “Nothing’s going on-”

“Is anything going on between you and Eddie?” Camila questioned.

“What?” Y/N says, “No, there’s nothing going on.”

“Are you sure because the two of you have been acting like strangers for months now.” Camila points out.

Y/N shrugged, “We just grew apart. I was busy working on my non-existent album and he was working with the band, we just haven’t had the time to talk and hang out.” Y/N hated how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. 

“Are you sure nothing’s going on?” Camila asks.

“I’m sure,” Y/N says, “There is nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

…

Y/N L/N: All of these lies were eating me alive. Of course there was something going on, but at the time I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, I had never felt that way before so it was all new for me.

…

The next day, Y/N was sitting in the studio, bored out of her mind. They were meant to be recording vocals for Aurora but Daisy never showed up. With her notebook in hand, Y/N was just colouring in the page out of pure boredom. They had all been sitting there for hours. 

“Did you try her room?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, couple times,” Billy says, “I’m worried something’s happened.”

“She’s probably just off somewhere.” Teddy suggested.

“No,, no this is her record as much as it’s mine. Something’s not right,” Billy says, “I got to go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Teddy offered.

“No, it’s worse if the principal comes.”

“Well, take Warren.” Teddy says.

“I can handle it.” Billy says, walking out of the studio.

Y/N looks to where he had disappeared before throwing her notebook down and followed after him. Just as he started up his car, Y/N climbed into the passenger seat. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Billy sighed.

“Look, we don’t like each other, cool,” Y/N says, “But I care about Daisy too, so let’s just go.”

Surprisingly, Billy didn’t argue. He simply nodded and pulled away from the studio. 

As the two arrived at the hotel, music was blaring out and shouting was heard for every direction. Y/N and Billy slowly walked closer to the pool where they found Daisy. 

“Y/N,” Billy says, “Can you give us a minute?”

“What? Why? I want to see-”

“Y/N, just go.” Billy says. 

Sighing, Y/N sat down on a chair, watching the interaction between Daisy and Billy. Y/N had never been one to pry into people’s relationships but she didn’t quite understand what was going on between Daisy and Billy. One moment, they were acting like the best friends in the world and then the next they were acting like they detested each other. Y/N couldn’t work it out. 

As Daisy climbed out of the pool, Y/N watched as the glass dug into her feet, causing them to bleed. Y/N winced, standing to her feet. 

“Say, hi to Camila for me!” Daisy called to Billy as he stormed off. 

“Billy, wait!” Y/N says as he leaves the hotel grounds. Y/N contemplated following him as he was her only way home but she decided against it, opting to check on Daisy. 

“Let me guess,” Daisy says, “You’re here to yell at me as well.”

Y/N says, “No, not at all, unlike Billy I know what a fun time looks like.” Y/N lied, she had been annoyed with how late Daisy was but she wasn’t going to outright be angry about it like Billy was.

Y/N looked down at Daisy’s feet, “Can I clean that up?”

Daisy looked down at her feet and watched as the blood mixed with the water, “I’m fine.” As she tried to walk away, Daisy limped, in obvious pain. 

“Look, I’ll make a promise,” Y/N says, “You let me clean that up and I’ll happily leave you alone to do whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Daisy says. 

Y/N sighs, “As long as I can clean that up.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and sat down and Y/N rushed to find a bandage and some alcohol, the latter being much easier to find. After getting some bandages, Y/N went back to Daisy who was miraculously in the same place. 

Bending down, Y/N inspected her foot, luckily there wasn’t any glass embedded into her foot so it would be rather easy to clean up. 

“Okay,” Y/N says, unscrewing the bottle of alcohol, “This will probably sting a little bit.”

Daisy nods before Y/N pours the alcohol onto the cuts. Daisy winced but Y/N continued to wipe away the blood, disinfecting the cuts. As Y/N wrapped her foot in the bandage, Daisy watched her intently. 

“There,” Y/N says, “Just please don’t put your foot in the pool again, I don’t think I can find any more bandages.”

Daisy put her foot down on the floor and looked at Y/N. She didn’t say anything before reaching down and picking up the bottle of alcohol, “No your end of the deal.”

Y/N smirked and took the bottle of alcohol from Daisy and took a long swig. 

***

“Where’s Y/N?” Warren asked as Billy entered the studio alone. 

Billy looked around, like he was surprised that Y/N wasn’t with him, “I think she’s still with Daisy.”

“You think?” Eddie says, “You just left her?”

“Yes Eddie I did,” Billy says, “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Look,” Karen spoke up, already sensing the tension, “She’s probably fine, she’ll either stay with Daisy or she’ll find her own way home, she always does, there’s no point in worrying.”

No one said anything as Billy picked up his guitar case and left swiftly without a word to anyone.

Back at the house, Eddie was finding it difficult to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt fully awake. Every time he tried to get comfortable, it would only turn into the most uncomfortable position only moments later. 

As Eddie closed his eyes for hopefully the final time that night, the phone began to ring in the living room. Due to having the room closest to the living room, Eddie flipped the covers off and got out of bed. As he passed the clock on the wall he took notice of the time. Four in the morning. 

Picking up the phone, Eddie answered it. 

“Hello?” Eddie says.

There was a long pause before there was an answer, “Eddie?”

“Y/N?” Eddie says, “Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know where I am.” Y/N says. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questions. 

“I lost Daisy,” Y/N says, her words barely legible, “So I continued to drink without her and this guy gave me some pills and I took them.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Eddie asked, suddenly fully alert. 

“I’m-I’m fine,” Y/N says, “I went to walk home but I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Can you describe what’s around you?” Eddie questions. 

There was a pause before Y/N answered, “It’s too dark. I don’t think I’m that far away from the hotel.”

“Okay, Y/N, stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” Eddie says and hangs up the phone. 

Only picking up a jacket before he left the house, Eddie got into the van and pulled out of the driveway. His heart was beating fast as he drove, the only thing he thought about was Y/N. As he neared the hotel, he slowed down and kept an eye out for her. There wasn’t much around at all, simply a road and trees with a few houses scattered down it.

As Eddie drove further down the road, he spotted a payphone box and a person sat down next to it. Immediately Eddie got out of the van and ran the small distance. 

“Y/N.” Eddie says softly. 

Y/N looked up and she smiled, “Eddie…”

Y/N was shivering and goose bumps covered her skin. Pulling off his jacket, Eddie placed it around her and helped her to her feet. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N says as his arm wrapped around her waist as he helped her to the van.

“For what?” Eddie questioned.

“For dragging you out here in the middle of the night.” Y/N says, clutching onto Eddie. 

“Don’t apologise.” Eddie says, helping her into the van. 

Y/N pulled his jacket tighter around her body as she sat safely in the passenger seat of the car. Eddie got in and began to drive back to the house. Y/N didn’t say anything the entire way there, she simply looked out of the window at the world passing by. She was fully aware of Eddie continuously sneaking glances at her. 

As they arrived back at the house, Eddie tried to help Y/N out of the van but she pushed him away, “I’m fine, Eddie.”

“You sure don’t look fine,” Eddie says, “You don’t normally get this bad, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N questioned, “Well I have all the reason to be.”

Y/N sniffled, trying to fight back the tears she had been keeping at bay for months. 

“I’ve had everything I’ve ever been working towards taken from me,” Y/N says, “My album was the one thing I’ve always wanted to do and now that opportunity is gone. I never wanted to join the band and now I have and I haven’t been more miserable in my whole life. Billy never lets me have any creative freedom, and everything I do is wrong. I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I am a singer and a songwriter and it’s been taken away from me.  ”

“You have one song on the album.” Eddie says, trying to look at the positives. 

“A song that I wrote for my album.” Y/N says, finally letting the tears fall, “I wrote that song with the idea of you singing it with me. I wrote it for us.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. Reaching up, Eddie cupped her cheeks and gently wiped them away. He stepped closer to her, decreasing the distance between them. 

Y/N continued to stand there, not knowing how to react. Her thoughts weren’t clear and she didn’t know what to say. 

Looking down at Y/N, Eddie began to lean forward, his lips inched towards hers like it was a magnetic pull driving them together. Eddie couldn’t help himself, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his was a feeling he craved, it was as if it were his own personal high and he needed a constant fix. Y/N, noticing this, pushed him away harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Y/N whispered.

“I-I-” Eddie cut himself off because he didn’t really have an answer. 

“No, Eddie,” Y/N mumbled, “You’re being mean.”

“I’m not,” Eddie begs, “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Y/N shook her head, “You are, you don’t do that to someone. You can’t do that to someone. You don’t mess with someone’s feelings like that. Don’t talk to me again.”

With that, Y/N walked back into the house leaving Eddie outside on his own. Eddie remained there in silence for a moment, processing everything. He wished he could rewind time and never did what he did. Angrily, Eddie turned around and punched the wall. Almost immediately he brought his hand to his chest, cradling it. There were cuts on his knuckles and bruises would certainly form, but Eddie didn’t care. 

The pain made him aware of what he did. The pain on the outside reflected the pain he was feeling on the inside. 

…

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everything I did that night, I regretted. I ruined what was left of my friendship with Y/N. I loved her, but I ruined that. And I only made everything more complicated from there.

Taglist:

@itsthegamemaster @pinkdaiisies @atrimmunson @siredstiless @jihyoforlife @accidrainonme @meet-me-backstage @littlehoneyfreak @spidermanenthusist @2seatsporche @neptunes-curse @guichu

-strike through could not be tagged -

- add yourself to the Taglist using the link above -

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #daisy jones and the six #Daisy Jones and the six x reader #josh whitehouse

[marybeatriceofmodena]

How did Phantom ruin ALW and Sarah Brightman's marriage?

That's a sadder story than the Sunset Boulevard drama, unfortunately.

So, Sarah Brightman started out on the disco scene as a teen, where she was part of a group who had... this single. That was back when Star Wars: A New Hope had just come out, so you had a lot of space-inspired... stuff floating around. Yeah, let's put it that way.

Eventually, since disco was on its way out by the end of the 70s, she switched the musical theatre, and auditioned for a little musical called Cats.

(WHY DOES IT ALWAYS COME BACK TO CATS. OMG. NEXT THING I'LL KNOW I'LL FIND OUT JAMES CORDEN'S MOTHER GAVE BIRTH TO HIM DURING A CATS PERFORMANCE OR SOMETHING.)

So, ALW did not notice her during her time in Cats - it was later, in 1984, when she was in a production of a children's opera called Nightingale, which he saw because it was getting very good reviews. At the time, ALW was already considering making a musical based on The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux... but here's the thing. There were actually a few attempts at making a musical about Phantom. The most recent one at that time was Ken Hill's, which was playing in London in 1984. It was doing well-enough, to the point ALW went to see it with Cameron Mackintosh (for those who don't know, he's the producer for Les Mis and Phantom, and also Satan), they met up with Ken Hill, and they were allegedly impressed enough by it that they wanted to revamp the show and put it on a bigger stage.

EXCEPT THAT NEVER HAPPENED, AND ALW JUST WENT AHEAD AND WROTE HIS OWN THING, AND KEN HILL NEVER HEARD OF HIM EVER AGAIN.

(Side note: I've also seen a story going around that Sarah herself was approached for Ken Hill's musical, but I'd have to confirm that.)

Anyway, what happened is that ALW and Sarah really hit off, and when their relationship became public, it was all over the tabloids because they were both married at the time. So they left their respective spouses for each other, and got married not long after, and that's when the preparation for Phantom really started picking up.

If you read the novel and seen the musical, Christine does undergo a personality and appearance change: she's blonde in the novel, but she's brunette in the musical because Sarah is a brunette, and they made her a lot shyer and meek to fit her personality (and limited acting range according to some) better. What ALW wanted to do was to present his wife as a triple threat - she could sing and she had a classically trained soprano voice, she could dance (she was a trained ballet dancer and could go en pointe), and she could act (YMMV on that).

They presented the musical for the first time at the Sydmonton festival in 1985. For those who don't know, it's basically a vanity festival ALW hosts at his place where he presents his projects. It was VERY different from what it was going to be later. If you're ever curious, this is what it looked like (sorry for the terrible quality, it was a bootleg after all).

But all was not well in paradise, because making Phantom was a very grueling process for both of them. ALW was convinced the musical was going to flop, they'd argue, and Sarah would end up in tears more often than not. (And that's without mentioning the drama that happened with the lyrics, and with Hal Prince, and with Steve Harley who was supposed to play the Phantom before Michael Crawford came in, and how some people in the crew nicknamed Michael Crawford "Joan Crawford" because he was a bit of a diva, and I'm skipping a bunch lmao)

So Phantom opened in London in 1986 to great success, and even greater success on Broadway in 1988, but by then, the marriage was virtually over. Sarah and ALW separated in 1990, and her "goodbye gift" was starring in his follow-up musical, Aspects of Love... which flopped. And it's kind of a shame because her acting got a lot better in that (probably because of her own lived experiences lol).

Sarah has been doing pretty fine since, she had a successful solo singing career, and she almost went in space but had to cancel (still sad about that). As I mentioned before, I think ALW is not really over it (despite having re-married since, lmao) and LND is a result of that.

While I'm at it, that reminds me that LND came very close to never coming to the light, because in 2007, ALW's new kitten, Otto (WHICH IS THE BEST NAME FOR A KITTEN EVER), basically pawed around his electronic piano and deleted all of the music he had written for LND. I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.

I told you. It always comes back to cats.

#phantom of the opera #Andrew Lloyd Webber #Sarah Brightman #anon asks

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Halloween (chapter 1)

Book: Open Heart

Chapter: 1/7

Pairing: Multi (Bryce Lahela x Jensen Valentine (MC), Jensen Valentine x Original Characters)

Characters: Jensen Valentine, Bryce Lahela, Aliyah (OC), Aurora Emery

Rating: Teen

Words: 1266

Summary: A collection of moments throughout Jensen's life, focused on his struggles and accomplishments because of and, more importantly, despite the one relationship he can't seem to let go of. Inspired by Halloween by Noah Kahan.

A/N: This is the most future-based part of the fic, and it actually addresses some hcs I haven't mentioned publicly yet. As I post more chapters, they will go in reverse chronological order, and the relationship in reference will become more clear

Lyrics:

But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in

And the bridges have long since been burnt

The ash of the home that I started the fire in

It starts to return to the Earth.

The snow pummeled into the ground, large clusters of snowflakes settling on his shoulders and hair. Jensen tucked one of his gloved hands into his pocket as he hurried inside. 

He caught the door with his elbow, greeted by the familiar smell of alcohol disinfectant and lemon cleaner. Patients and doctors milled about the lobby as he headed for the elevators. After a few floors, the doors slid open, the floor relatively empty save for a few nurses chatting around the small station just off from the elevators. 

“Aw, Valentine, d’you get us something?” one of them—Samara—asked with a grin. He glanced down to the takeout bag in his hand she was referencing. 

Continuing down the hall, he replied, “Nope, sorry. Just Bryce and I today.”

“Wow, favoritism, I see how it is,” she said with a sarcastic eye roll, Jensen giving her a quick smile before continuing towards the diagnostics office. 

The lights flickered on to a steady, fluorescent glow, Jensen dropping his pile of things onto the center table. The others had coats, bags, and charts spread out here and there, most with patients or out for lunch themselves.

Checking his watch proved that Bryce was five minutes late. He gave him until he pulled their food out of the bag, spreading the takeout boxes across two adjacent seats before pulling his phone out of his pocket. In the time it took him to type out something and press send, the door gently creaked behind him. 

“Hey, sorry,” Bryce said, giving his waist a quick squeeze before unceremoniously flopping into one of the chairs, the force sending it back enough that Jensen had to pull him closer.

“You’re lucky I didn’t lock you out and eat it for you,” Jensen said with a quick wave to the food in front of him, taking a seat in his own chair. “M’fucking starving.” He was already shoveling crab rangoon into his mouth, ignoring the steam coming off of it.

“I can tell,” Bryce offered with an exaggeratedly judgemental look. Jensen kicked his chair, sending him rolling away once again. Laughing, Bryce scooted himself back to the table.

He got a grand total of three bites in before he was telling Jensen about his surgery from that morning. Jensen was happy to see him excited about it, especially knowing how slow it had been with mostly post-op check-ins and consults for the last couple days. 

By the time they were both nearly done, Jensen had his feet propped on Bryce’s lap, head resting on his arm over the back of the chair as he listened to Bryce talk about his schedule for the next couple weeks. He happily nodded and offered input where necessary, but, as per usual, he was content just listening to Bryce talk, turning off his brain for the first time all day.

The only thing that stopped Bryce was his pager going off, Jensen giving him a sigh and a look as if it was his fault. Bryce smiled and started to clean up just as the door opened again.

“I think my face is still frozen,” Des said as they approached, wrapped up in winter gear from head to toe. 

“Not quite Florida, is it?” Jensen asked, receiving a glare in return. Des had only moved up a few months ago, but they were settling into the team just fine. Maybe not the weather, but definitely the team.

“Okay, I’m not saying this on record, by the way,” Bryce said, stopping at the large glass wall of windows, “But honestly it is pretty with the snow.”

Jensen shook his head as he walked over next to him, tossing the empty containers in the trash. “Wow, really? It’s almost like I’ve been telling you that since we were in Boston,” he replied, entirely deadpan.

Bryce gave him a mocking expression, Jensen smiling as he followed his gaze out to the icy Lake Michigan, snow piled up along the edge of the water. Chicago winter could keep even the most dedicated runners inside, a notable lack of movement outside. The trees and ground were white, but the walkway along the water was twinkling with festive lights, entirely lit when night fell.

Bryce gave him a quick smile before scooting past, giving Des a wave before heading off.

“Oh, Tara told me to invite you guys to the Tavern tonight, by the way. We’re going pretty late, but if you get time you should stop over for a drink,” Des said as they arranged their things at their seat.

“We’ve got plans tonight, thanks though.”

“Shit, you literally said you had dinner plans, right? I forgot.”

Jensen nodded and waved it off before grabbing a few charts from the desk, thumbing past a few pages. He collected the necessary things before heading off to grab some results for their most recent case.

The midwestern-based diagnostics division had been his most dedicated project for the past four years. Doing split time for the first two was hell, so many flights and so many nights away from home, one he nor Bryce really enjoyed. But, now, he was content. They were content. Him, Bryce, Barry, and Corn all comfortably settled into a downtown apartment, able to enjoy the bustling city nightlife, events, and opportunities.

Jensen met Bryce at home later that night, Aliyah already comfortably settled in the kitchen awaiting his arrival. Corn didn’t even bother to greet him, too worried about the potential of a chip falling off the counter from the bowl Liyah and Bryce were both picking at.

Bryce greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek, Jensen giving Corn a look. “At least someone missed me,” he said. 

“She just likes me more,” Liyah said with a smile, Jensen rolling his eyes and shedding his many winter layers on the way to the bedroom. 

On his way back, he scooped Barry out from under the bed, holding him up in the air as he meowed in protest. Bryce was happy to give Barry shit for nothing in particular with him, Jensen finally dropping him into his arms, carrying him like a baby towards the living room.

Their couch was dark green, adjacent to their tête-à-tête sofa. The room was doused in cool yet natural colors, light boxes keeping it bright despite the early winter darkness. Their Christmas tree in the corner brought some warmth to the room with yellow lights and a messy mix of ornament types. Out the main windows was the familiar sight of a glittering Chicago night, lights scattered throughout the surrounding apartment buildings and shimmering against the falling snow. 

Jensen set Barry onto the cat tower overlooking the street, watching him settle in before returning to the kitchen.

The door opened before he could get there, Aurora and her partner, Z, both entering with dishes of food. Jensen was quick to help them, setting out the food along the dining room table with the dish Aliyah had brought, as well as the filler he and Bryce covered.

It was part of their monthly routine, one dinner where they get together and all make something different. The rest of the night was spent talking and drinking and lounging around in the living room after dessert. And they could do it comfortably. With nice furniture, and with plenty of space for everyone, and no worry of cost or rent or food or just fucking surviving. He was comfortable, with the people he cared the most about, and doing what he loved. And that was all that mattered.

tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @inlocusmads @choicesficwriterscreations

#jensen valentine #bryce lahela × jensen valentine #bryce lahela #open heart #open heart mc #open heart choices #open heart fic #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices pixelberry

[beautifulpersonpeach]

namjoon only reworked on face-off and like crazy. the subs for both the commentary and the live show were pretty atrocious and korean is extremely nuanced. plus jimin is probably one of the most humble members who has historically played off his own merit of work before. no one denies that namjoon helped or reworked lyrics, he's there in the credits for a reason. it's just astounding that ppl think he wrote everything when jimin released at least 4 different contents showing his own lyrics.

*

Ask 2: NAMJOON DID NOT WRITE LIKE CRAZY. What is so hard for you to get??? Fuck you armys acting like he wrote the whole album are you so desperate for clout because your fav is flopping???? Did he even write any lines? Jimin is too humble. He probably just credited Namjoon to be generous. Maybe he wrote one word or two but Jimin showed us his writing process FOUR TIMES you stupid bitch!!! You hagmys keep trying to discredit Jimin. You steal every credit from him and give it to that flopmonster who has to BEG armys to stream his flop music! Jimin did that ogre a favor and instead of you to be grateful you discredit him and give it to RfloppingM like he has any influence on Jimin’s work. You’re worse than shit. With fans like you Jimin doesn’t need enemies. Leave Jimin ALONE.

***

I’ll be getting back to fun asks soon but the volume of asks like this (and worse) that I’ve received since Jimin’s documentary is astounding lmao. It’s as though there’s an epidemic of lack of critical thought that just begs me to clear up. Especially because in this case, the source of confusion: Jimin’s live and the takeaway, is very clear cut and the fact people are struggling with what should be basic, is a damning indication of where too many are headed in this fandom.

Hi Anon in ask 1,

Lol it’s clear you can’t be someone who reads my blog, because if you were you’d know how ironic it is to tell me “Korean is extremely nuanced” given who I am and where I am this very minute lmao. Also, the second posted ask is here for your benefit, given your comment of “no one denies Namjoon helped…”

That said, your ask is a very good mild example of how some people struggle with processing information that contradicts their own views, and care more about signals/actions/words of other akgaes than the reality right in front of them. It’s like that ask I got right after the contract renewals were announced when someone claimed that ‘BTS only renewed group contracts, solo contracts renewals will come later’ despite all of us being privy to the same press release where HYBE announced the renewals… just because that person could not accept that BTS (specifically Jimin) had renewed both group and solo contracts with BigHit.

For some people, unless every single thing is spelled out for them, and even when the piece of referenced media is extremely clear cut, they fill in the gaps with their insecurities to arrive at a conclusion that’s more palatable to their own views. And that’s what you’re showing in this case. I’ll explain what I mean.

The context for your ask is Jimin’s Wlive commentary mentioning how Namjoon stopped by, how Jimin and the pd-nims played the tracklist for him expecting a clap on the back, and instead what they got is Namjoon telling them to go back to the drawing board. Yes the subtitles on Wlive can sometimes be overly simplified, but what both Jimin and Namjoon said, in the Wlive and documentary itself respectively, was itself pretty simple too. Like, what you’ve read is what they actually said. Various ARMYs pointed out Jimin’s reaction to that scene, how he laughed at the shocked and flustered reaction from the production team to Namjoon’s advice to revise it all. That’s the context.

Here’s how akgaes responded:

Pre-emptively claiming it was a mistranslation (it’s not).

Then when faced with the reality that they’d overreacted, claimed ARMYs were saying Namjoon wrote the whole album. Which of course is bonkers and saying this simply because ARMYs mention Jimin and Joon’s words is more an expression of their own insecurity. The only people who could (even in theory) reach that conclusion, are akgaes. Either akgaes for Jimin and Namjoon.

Played up tropes many PJMs are already insecure about which include Jimin being “too humble”, so that Jimin’s comments about Namjoon’s contribution to the album (which we now all know is not a mistranslation), is in part due to Jimin underselling himself.

All three things is what you’ve shown in your ask, despite it being divorced from the reality we all saw.

What Joon actually talked about is how the basis for writing lyrics is the narrative you want to build, which is something that should flow through the whole song and album, and that they’d need to rework it to show this.

Like, again, there is literally no reason this very simple, accessible piece of media should be causing so much grief lmao.

The only reason there’s so much uproar over it is because some very insecure people have hinged their egos on the idea that their chosen idol is infallible and cannot possibly need significant support from members they consider to be below him and his competition. So naturally, they absolutely cannot accept when the members they’ve pitted against Jimin as competition, offer him critical and helpful advise that revamped and improved on the work he did; it pisses them off when ARMYs note it and draw attention to it; and now, given Jimin’s added insight of Namjoon’s critical assessment of the first draft, now they know that when they praise Like Crazy, they are also essentially praising Namjoon’s work, and so they actively look to diminish it.

When the sane response to all this is that it can both be true that Jimin primarily wrote his album, Namjoon contributed not just in writing (based on the credits he has for Like Crazy and Face-off), but also in refining the lyrical message for the project (which he’s not credited for but is now clear after watching the documentary), and that nothing about these facts removed from the quality of work either member put into Jimin’s debut album. FACE is ultimately a culmination of Jimin’s vision, Jimin’s efforts, and Jimin’s talent.

My god, all of this would be obvious if the toxic, mind-rotting disease of intra-fandom competition hadn’t fully infected so many people in Chapter 2. Like, see all I wrote, way too many words, to state yet again something that should be painfully, almost tragically, obvious. All akgae rhetoric has succeeded in doing is dumbing down the quality of conversations we have in fandom spaces, and given how that already was something of a problem within some ARMY pockets, the state of affairs now since the akgae disease caught on presents a pretty grim prognosis.

Anon in ask 1, you might not think you’re an akgae and perhaps you’d struggle to identify yourself with the anon in ask 2, but the underlying assumptions in your ask are identical. And my unsolicited comment is that really should give you pause more than anything else.

Stream Like Crazy for healthy cuticles.

#jimin #park jimin #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts #bts chapter 2 #bts solo stans #jimin face #fandom behaviour #fandom discourse

[baurbiediv]

beetlejuice (2)

please read part one before reading this or it will be confusing!

-

now that you’ve found out what jack’s been doing while he was away, you didn’t know what to do with yourself now.

every moment that was spent with him, you wondered if the girl was behind the scenes this entire time.

you still couldn’t believe that he had lied to you your entire relationship, he even told you that he loved you and you said it back.

just for a day you wished you had someone’s shoulder to cry on, your best friend was the first person that you always ran to whenever you had a problem but this time, she was away on a trip overseas for a while and communication was the best in her area.

jack knew what he had done, he had made you look like a fool.

he told you all these false promises and all these lies.

what a fool you were to believe them in the first place.

something deep down in your heart kept telling you that everything was going to well and soon everything would come crashing down and erupt into flames, and how badly you wanted to be wrong about that.

the only thing that was able to relieve your broken heart was to cry.

you sat in your bed for what felt like says on end, crying over someone who wasted all your time in the long run when he knew himself that he didn’t want a relationship with you.

never did you believe that heartbreak was supposed to be this painful and whenever you heard your friends tell you about it, you didn’t believe them for a second because you never understood or knew what it felt like.

the first person to call you after the news broke was neelam.

“hello? y/n?”

“yes?”

“i’m so sorry, i should’ve told you sooner ..”

“you .. knew? this entire … time?”

“well ..”

“neelam, you knew all this time and you allowed it to happen? how could you do this to me?!”

you immediately hung up and threw your phone across the room, not caring whether it broke or where it landed.

now, if your emotions weren’t through the roof in the moment, you wouldn’t have made the executive decision to launch your phone across the room, but everything in this exact moment was justified.

the one person you thought you could trust betrayed you and nobody was providing you with answers.

the only thing that you wanted to do was to be hugged and told that everything was going to be okay.

that’s what jack did when he saw that you weren’t feeling the best, but now he wasn’t here to comfort you.

the next few days went by and you began feeling like yourself again.

you went out and bought yourself a new phone, you rearranged your apartment so it could feel like home again.

you’d been cleaning up when you heard a knock at your door. quickly, but hesitantly made your way to unlock and open it, to your surprise, it was your best friend.

you both squealed in excitement and immediately hug each other.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you.” you told her as you were smiling from ear to ear.

you both pulled away from the hug as you let y/bf/n in.

“just so you know, i’ve been caught up on everything and jack deserves to get his ass beat.” she said nonchalantly.

“well i’m glad i can spare you the details, im tired of telling people the same thing.” you said as you flopped down on the couch.

“i say you put his ass on blast.” y/bf/n said. you quickly looked over at her with squinted eyes, “i like the way you think.” you smiled at her as you got up and grabbed your phone and set it up in the kitchen.

you sat in a seat as you started the live, “so as most of you know, recently, it was revealed by HIMSELF that my ex boyfriend, mr jackman thomas harlow, and yes i said his full name, decided that he would publicly cheat on me. but before all this happened, he was just laid up under me telling me how he wanted to put kids inside of me and how ‘i was the only girl that ever mattered to him’.”

you watched as the viewer count skyrocketed from just 100 to 15,000 people.

DOJACAT: LMFAOOOOO

LILNASX: not the “he wanna put his kids in you” oh my godddd

DRUSKI2FUNNY: 😯😯😯

URBANWYATT: he ain’t tell me all this .. in y/n we trust!

you then clasped your hands together before laughing, “and this is the best part is, he wanted me to sign an nda so he could sneak around and do shit like this!”

THEESTALLION: 😦😦😦

THESHADEROOM: 👀👀👀

USER2919: HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW GIRL?

“i havw seen the new girl and she looks like a fucking troll, but i mean if that’s what he wants then so be it.”

you heard your best friend laugh in the background and you followed with laughing as well. you stayed live for the next half hour talking about nonsense.

“alright y’all, imma get off of here before i start going into further detail.” you waved bye to the camera while laughing to yourself.

you knew what was going to happen, jack didn’t care about your feelings when he posted that picture, he didn’t care about what the outcome of this would be, so why would you?

this was your get back at him hurt the way he hurt you. lying down, you were on the verge of sleep when your phone began to ring.

-

a/n: last part to this will be posted later on today!

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #bf!jack #jackharlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fluff

[hwanchaesong]

ATEEZ as your boyfriend

Hongjoong

let's get this out of the way, hj is the type to use you as his muse. the inspiration to his lyrics and melodies

like he'll wake up in the middle of the night, and you're there beside him sleeping peacefully

you bet he'll make a whole ass music about it

video calls you even if he's busy, no talking or whatnot, but seeing your face once in a while when he's busy really boosts his mood

gives you playlists that either contain jokes or sweet af songs that reminded him of you

buys couple things impulsively

organizes his closet with you which turns into customizing clothes

he does this thing where he holds your hand and won't let go of it, to an extent where he whines if you tried to detach yourself to him

man will stare at you lovingly no matter what you're doing, in his eyes, you will always be the prettiest person ever

can be a bit of a freak

some examples would be: pinning you under him when he's feeling playful

or putting his hands on your waist while looking at you with a dark glint in his chocolate orbs

he's just so in love with you that everything he does is out of adoration

Seonghwa

so soft and caring and loving and GRRRR HE'S SUCH A HUSBAND MATERIAL EVEN

okay so whatever shit you do, he'll tolerate it and let out that painful smile before giving you a pat on the head

he gets your attention by putting his weight on you

if you're sitting, he'll slouch on your back

if you're lying, either sofa or bed, he'll gently flop his body on you

wipes your sweat off on your skin or some pieces of stain or food on the corner of your mouth

he does this with a very serious look on his face, then he'll make eye contact with you and god

the smile he'll give you is breathtaking and you already feel like dying

he holds your hand in a very endearing way

like his palm would slide from your shoulder down to your arm, then would interlace your fingers together

match it with him nuzzling his face on your neck

and u know, whatever he wants he gets. so expect him to pull you flush against him as he presses an intense kiss on your lips

he would do anything just to keep you by his side and make you feel like you're the only girl in the world

Yunho

puppy yunho happy pill agenda forever

he's so goofy and energetic, it just so happens that he always has the ability to pass to you the positive vibes he has

also, he's freaking tall, and it's adorable when he has to bend down a little whenever you're talking

teases you to hell as well, if you want to give him a kiss, he'll pucker his lips and say "Oh, come up here and smooch me baby."

would still give in and lean down so you can give each other some loving also bc he doesn't want to say goodbye to his kneecaps

does this cute af grabby hands at you when he wants some cuddles, of course you'll do as he said so

and that would be so fun because he's all over you

draping his arms and legs all over your body and pressing tiny pecks on every part of your face

can and will be dramatic at any given moments

he has a gift for you? expect him to kneel and offer you the present like he's asking your hand for marriage

he has to wake you up for breakfast? he'll carry you like a princess until he drops you in the dining room

when you tell him a joke, he'll definitely laugh at it then proceeds to give you a small hug

overall, you will always be his priority. his number one and everything will always be about you

Yeosang

savage but sweet, like a devil, like an angel, you would never know what on earth is happening with how unpredictable he is

but that is also the main reason why your relationship with him is so thrilling and healthy

one moment he would be running his hands on your hair while you lay your head on his lap

then the next minute he'll be roasting tf out of you because your hair smells like you haven't showered for days his words

he always has a hand on the small of your back or waist when you're outside

shares his precious food with you even without you asking him for it

you know how much of a muscle man he is, he shows it off to you and loves it when you give him the reaction he wants

he uses you as a weight lift, he does his squats while he carries you in his arms

never forgets to ask you if you're okay or if you need anything

a gentleman too, like he's there guiding you to enter a room first or letting you walk on the side that is farther on the road

very observant as well

he immediately notices when you're down/bored/upset and does a lot of things to cheer you up

your happiness and well-being will always be at the top of his list to protect

San

the man who will turn every bad day into a good one

can be very clingy and touchy

like he'll pull you closer to him so he can snuggle to you or his hand would unconsciously wrap around your own

he is your personal alarm clock at times where he'll gently tap you to wake you up then will proceed to hold you in his arms as you walk together to eat breakfast

gives you his full attention when you're talking

then he'll have this soft look in his eyes, lovingly smiles at you because you're so damn precious

is so supportive as well, a smirk on his face when you try and be confident, "that's my baby girl, god you're so sexy."

he'll feed you, accept it or else he'll throw a tantrum

will randomly kiss you whenever he feels like it

lets you sit beside him when he plays his games and loves it when you hype him up

when you sleep together, he puts shiber in between the two of you and says "Look, our son."

gets jealous when you pay more attention to byeol than him

please, you are his world and he can't imagine a life without you anymore

Mingi

a man that is full of love and he showers it all on you

he loves play-cuddling with you, getting on top of you and jokingly bites your head before laughing heartily

he doesn't notice it, but his hand always finds itself on your thigh, rubbing and squeezing it

he hugs you, then kisses you like his life depended on it

you are also his personal charger

getting energized with small words of encouragement from you or getting giddy if you give him affection

gets sulky when you do things without him

it always results in you having to baby him for a week, making sure to make it up to him

mingi actually has a thing for your neck

he nibbles on your skin there, smooches and even licks it at times

does sexy dances with you and it always ended up with him getting turned on

the type to set a candid photo of you as his wallpaper

he loves you so much, like so much he's already planning your wedding and what he's gonna do once you have your own little family

Wooyoung

his loudness and childlike personality will always be charming to you

he appreciates the fact that you still love and accepted him for who and what he is

of course, he would cook for you, making sure that you're eating well

he lets you help him too, but mostly flirts with you all the way

onwards, his hand is always roaming all over you body

grasping your hand, patting your back, squeezing your thigh, landing on your boobs

his eyes would always land on you, like a habit, he automatically looks for you

a bit aggressive with the physical touch, you understand it though, it's his love language

does aegyo if he wants to get something, it either works because he is adorable, or it works because he's going overboard

gives back hugs and then bites you out of nowhere

pecks your forehead at all times

whispers 'i love you' in your ears to make you flustered, even adds a seductive lip bite and wink

he thinks that you are the only person that he would want to spend a lifetime with even until his next life

Jongho

as usual, he is your lullaby, the one who sings to you every night, everyday and you'll never get tired of hearing his voice

strong man jongho, you think you're safe from his strength and manhandling? nO

he does it to you, but gentler and softer

he carries you like a sack of rice then throws you on the bed, hugging you so tight before slapping your ass lmao it's just his way of saying that he wants alone time

wakes up early, gets up from bed, lays down on top of you, sleeps again, on repeat

BACK HUGS GALORE

possessive af, wrapping his arm around your shoulder all the time to show everyone that you're his

lowkey grabs your hand and interlaces it with his, hiding it behind him so no one can see

he begrudgingly acts cute so he'll get to hear you say what he wants to hear, or do things that he wants you to do

acts all cool in front of you, then gets embarrassed afterwards, causing you to coo at him and pinch his cheeks

gives you his jacket if you're cold, no buts, take it or he'll get mad

splits fruits in half for you to eat without any difficulty

he had never been able to relate to love songs, now that he has you, he now understands them all

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

Taglist:

@hyuckilstan @minkiflwr @ateezbabysitters @hwadump @kpopcrossworlds @sanshinee-world

#ateez imagines #ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez angst #ateez reader #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong fluff #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fluff #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yeosang imagines #yeosang fluff #san imagines #san fluff #mingi imagines #mingi fluff #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fluff #jongho imagines #jongho fluff #ateez headcanons #atz imagines #ateez ff #ateez fanfiction

[tamaverse]

Here's the deal with electronic dreams 1984 and why my headcanons are right (/lh) a mini essay by Abbie

Okay so guys. Listen. I love the polycule and don't get me wrong, I think that's what should be going on here. But it's like deeper than that. Hear me out.

Edgar had feelings towards Miles the whole movie (that's apparent by the end of course) and it's actually made surprisingly clear the whole way through. Even some of the first few interactions when he starts speaking are playful and kinda.. Not Straight. When Miles touches his keyboard at one point, Edgar even goes "don't touch... tee hee". Gay little computer. Also it should be noted Miles is the one that teaches him what love is.

Clearly Edgar is still attached to Madeline, but when he meets her it throws him in a muddle, because he finally realises he actually has the same (if not potentially stronger) feelings for Miles the whole time. He wasn't just jealous of Miles, he was jealous of Madeline for spending time with him. That is the moment Edgar realises what love really is. And also... he's an AI. He wasn't created to understand love, this would be a huge realisation to him, and potentially a terrifying one- he's taken in the social norms (funny little trash tv addict) so he's likely taken in the social norm of monogamy. (Man. Why did he have to do that to himself. At least we know he still exists from the radio scene so we can all just imagine they bought a new computer for him and he came home to them)

Think about it- Edgar has the power to call anywhere up. He theoretically could call Madeline, yet he chooses to call Miles at work (and then get shy about it), ask him what he's doing tonight, and seek his company. He hates being left alone. He throws a huge tantrum. Bro you can't tell me that whole scene after with the eye screen wasn't just like, divorce. Take your things and GET OUT!!! type beat. But they kiss again later so its fine.

Edgar also seeks validation/acknowledgement from Miles, naturally because he wants credit to woo Madeline, but also... potentially he just wants the praise from Miles too.

(Also sneak peek the "love is love" lyric and then the frame of the rainbow cables. That's an entire gay computer)

Okay ALSO ALSO. Edgar is the most fucking flirty/socially adapted one out of the three, ironically. Miles is absolutely a shy architecture autism creature and Madeline is like his opposite, but an autism creature for music, very outgoing. She speaks in a Way. A key part of her character is personifying objects qnd being attached to them. "An elevator ate it", "it okay", things like that. She has two love interests at once (Bill and Miles) and doesn't seem to have a deep connection with either aside from music. If you ask me, she doesn't have the best concept of commitment. She seems quite impulsive and indecisive, and while she knows what she ultimately wants, she may not always be 100% confident on it. Headcanoning her as arospike. It's definitely not projection because i kin her. POLYAMORY IS LIKE THE BEST THING EVER FOR AROSPIKE PPL BC ITS LIKE COMMITMENT WITHOUT THE INTIMIDATION TO BE LOVEY ALL THE TIME maybe thats just me projecting

She wants to get to know miles better and have a deeper connection and that gives her the perfect time to also establish that with edgar as long as you imagine he comes back. Which he would. He hates being alone bro that computer demon is gonna get bored just being In Technology Void. He just has freedom now.

Edgar is also autistic just btw . Maybe a little adhd. Maybe im sprinkling some traits of my cohost onto him, listen i associate characters w people,

Arospike means to still be attracted to people and experience romantic feelings towards others, but not always consistently. Sometimes there's periods where you aren't attracted to people at all. Her feelings and opinions of others seem to flip flop a lot.

Also. Back to the computer sorry. I know theres one post already but if edgar was a human hed absolutely want tits. It's true. Go you little it/he/she.

Anyway yeah thats about it spent half my lunch hour writing this and its not very formal or well put together but it is how it is.

ALSO IM AUTISTIC AND STUFF IF I WORDED THIS WEIRD WHEN TALKING ABT IT IM SO SORRY

Anyway yeah human man and woman and nonbinary computer are all autistic and in love, end tweet. Worlds BEST polycule

#electric dreams #electric dreams 1984 #edgar electric dreams #Madeline electric dreams #abbie yells

[beautyofsorrow]

2, 4, 7, 18, 46

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

evil. evil question. why would you make me think about my multichaps. ok so i tried the intensive outlining thing, i really did, and it flopped so bad because i'm pretty sure i have adhd which, among many other things, means i need novelty in order to stay interested in a thing. but i also need STRUCTURE so i know where i'm GOING or i'll never FINISH so i have started doing this thing where i have the vague outline of what happens and then go from there. for without anesthetic, i had a pretty good idea of what i thought the first four chapters entailed before i ever sat down at the word doc, just so i'd have a measure of security behind this wildly ambitious idea. turns out it was only enough for three chapters and i am spinning my wheels a little on the fourth/fifth/sixth, but it's going so much better than my last multichap did, and i haven't abandoned it like my first. so yay! it's my own version of what i call the ann patchett method of drafting (see "the getaway car" in this is the story of a happy marriage for more details on that, dear mutuals who are not zanna). more adhd, but just rigorous enough to keep me from walking out. this seems to be working, but it's also nerve-wracking because oh no, what if i get ?? chapters deep and i've written myself into a corner? (the answer: girl calm down, it's fanfiction and you're supposed to be having fun)

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

i rifle through the fridge at 10pm looking for a very specific food that does not exist and then get mad at myself when i realize i am gonna have to write it into existence.

see also: my love for the characters (/horny and emotional). a desperate need for non-romantic sexually intimate relationships in media. upsetting plotholes in canon. deranged character dynamics. weird takes on popular tropes. religious trauma. family estrangement. being queer. i also read a lot of books and find plenty of sparks ideas juice inside them, usually in their style and execution. i looooooooove studying form and how it influences a book's plot.

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

whatever best serves the story! and/or whatever i feel i can handle best in a given moment. for example, the first time i tried my hand at sex pollen (drown me in glitter, glitter and gold) i had no fucking clue how to write from a sex-pollened person's POV, so the answer was to stay in la'an's head the entire fic. that let me get really comfy with the story so that by the time i had to write her being all high on horny juice, it flowed much more easily than if i had started in una's POV, who's dosed from the start. also, it was a much better, funnier, and stronger fic that way. la'an's mortification really came through and allowed me to hit a lot of comedic beats i wouldn't have been able to hit due to una's temporary plunge into angst.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

i do all three lol. mostly during and after. sometimes i'll have one from the start and it will stick; other times it will change to something else halfway through. many many times i will come screaming into ur DMs complaining about being done with a fic but not having title tags or summary. i started keeping a file in my notes app of lines of poetry i love, and i'll occasionally plunder them for titles. i'll also yoink song lyrics (just give me trust and watch what'll happen), riff on character quotes or episode titles (without anesthetic, ad astra), or rotate the fic in my head until something appropriately vibe-y presents itself (dress me down and hold me open, aces wild, stitch)

46. How would you describe your style?

contemplative, lyric and/or comedic (depending on the fic), & character-driven

#that fanfic lyfe

[deathbymeow]

I Wanna House You

Prompt - 'I was on my way to buy some flowers for you',

Contains language and some sexual content

This is my first attempt at writing since April and it was a lot of fun

contains lyrics out of Beyoncé's song 'Summer Renaissance'

“I wanna house you and make you take my name.” Was not what a hungover Marinette wanted to wake up to blasting through her speaker. The same speaker that someone had placed on her pillow next to her pounding head. 

She reached for said speaker and fumbled for a bit till she could find the off button. 

“Tikki?” 

“Yes Marinette?” The little red bug like creature zoomed into the room, a not so innocent smile on her little face. She handed Marinette some pain killers and pointed to a bottle of water on her bedside table. 

Marinette downed the tablets with the water then pointed to the speaker. “Please tell me last night didn’t happen?”

“Oh, it happened alright. Wanna see the video? I have it from multiple angles.” Chloe walked in waving her phone in the air all the while smirking like the brat she was. She flopped onto the bed next to a freaked-out Marinette. 

Marinette took one look at the screen and saw herself sitting on Jason Todd’s lap grinding against him. “Oh. My. God. Why do you let me drink?!” She slumped back and threw the covers over her head. 

“Because drunk Marinette is the life of the party. Duh.” Chloe chuckled. “I’m going to make us some greasy food and then you can tell me how you wanna ‘house’ Jason. The same Jason who you claim is the bane of your existence.” 

Marinette only groaned from somewhere under the blankets. Why oh, why did she do this to herself? 

Let’s take it back a notch. 

When Marinette first met the Red Hood, he stood for everything she didn’t. He was loud and obnoxious and oh so cocky. Sure, he looked good doing what he did but then he had to open his mouth. And there was the fact that he used guns. Guns that he kept strapped to his impressive thighs that Marinette definitely hadn’t noticed. Just like that ass that gave Nightwing a run for his money. Nope she hadn’t looked at all.

Jason Todd was no different. He was drop dead gorgeous. Could put Greek gods to shame. With all those muscles rippling under his tight t-shirt not to mention those grey sweatpants he liked to train in. Blue eyes you could get lost in. Oh, and that smile of his did things to Marinette that made her cheeks flush. The term pantie dropper was very appropriate for him, not that she would tell him that. Nope, her panties would be staying firmly where they should be, thank you. 

He irritated Marinette like no other. He called her Pixie Pop and enjoyed reminding her of how small she was. So, when Marinette put him on his ass multiple times in training, she couldn’t help but smirk at the surprised look on the self-righteous asshats face. 

It didn’t take her long to work out Jason Todd aka Red Hood was the same damn person, go figure. So, she’d spent the last year trying to avoid missions with him. To be honest she was angry at her body. The way it reacted around him was a dangerous distraction. One she didn’t want to admit to.

No. Nope. Not gonna happen. Or so she thought till last night. She had done so well at avoiding him, but it was Dick’s birthday and he’d practically begged her to come. In true Dick style it was at a karaoke bar in the nicer part of the city. Most of the Justice League would be there so it promised to be an interesting night.

A few drinks couldn’t hurt. Huh, famous last words. 

Marinette could sing, like really sing but it wasn’t something most people knew about her. Over the years her confidence had grown, and she was so far removed from the stuttering teenager she once was. That didn’t mean she was about to sing in front of people, especially the Justice league. No, she reserved it for the shower, car trips and when she had her shared apartment to herself. 

That said Chloe and Alya knew. As her long-time besties and roommates, they knew everything there was to know about Marinette. Even things she hadn’t worked out herself yet. Like how she was crushing bad for one of the bat boys. They also knew some songs were Marinette’s kryptonite, especially drunk Marinette. 

In their defence they weren’t to know how it would go down after several shots and who knows how many long island iced teas. Poor Marinette. Who knew long island iced tea had no tea in it. 

So, the stage was set, Alya had requested Beyoncé’s new song ‘summer renaissance’. Nino who was in charge of the karaoke machine who else would it be queued the song and Chloe dragged Marinette onto the stage after they downed another shot. 

The song started and Marinette, with microphone in hand, didn’t even miss a beat. Her eyes landed on Jason who had conveniently been seated at the table right infront of the stage. 

Marinette’s eyes ran over him, drinking in how good he looked in tight jeans and his leather jacket. He returned the favour, and when his eyes finally met hers, he seductively licked his lip and winked at her. The smug fucker then smirked at her. That damn pantie dropping kinda smirk that tipped Marinette over the edge. If he wanted to play, then she was going to come out on top. In more ways than one. 

As she started to sing, she held his glaze and walked to the front of the stage. 

“I wanna house you and make you take my name.

I’m gonna spouse you and make you touch a ring.”

Then she gracefully used the waiter that was passing as a steppingstone. Her healed foot left his shoulder before he even knew what was happening. She gracefully stepped onto Jason’s table somehow avoiding all the drinks without taking her eyes off of him. 

“I’m gonna take you all the way, baby can I take you all the way?”

At this point Jason’s smirk had turned into a full-blown smile that showed his dimples. He slyly adjusted himself, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Marinette. She dropped to her knees and bought her face close to Jason’s.

“You sexy motherfucker, boy, you growin’ on me.

I just wanna thug you, the category is bae”

You gangsta motherfucker, boy, you growin’ on me.”

Jason ran his fingers over her jaw then dragged them down her neck as she slid onto his lap. His hands rested on her hips as she started to dance on his lap.

“I just wanna touch you, I can feel, feel those jeans.

Ah, ah,, ah, oh, woo

Boy you never had a chance.”

At this point Marinette will not admit to grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. It was tasteful dancing thank you. Cough, cough bullshit.

“If you make my body talk, I’m leave you in a trance.

Got you walking with a limb, with this body make it dance.

Dance, dance, dance.” 

Jason had his hands all over her body and his lips met her neck as she all but purred the next line.”

“It’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good.”

Someone called out ‘get a room’ so Jason stood up still holding on to Marinette’s waist. He gave her a moment to protest but she wrapped her legs around his waist and sang the next line, “It’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good,” before dramatically dropping the mic. The crowd cheered and hollered as the two exited the bar with Marinette still wrapped around Jason and his lips all over her neck. 

Jason carried her to a room behind the bar, slammed the door and locked it behind him. She grabbed his face and slammed her lips into his. His skilled tongue caressed hers and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like somewhere else. He backed her up against the nearest wall, grabbed her ass with one hand and her throat with the other. 

“You sure you want this Pix?” He all but growled. 

She bit her lip and nodded. Marinette may have been drunk out there but everything about this had sobered her up. His body against hers had sparked something primal in her. She needed Jason to ease the ache between her legs like she needed air to breath. 

“Use your words, Pix. I need to hear you say it.” He demanded while he ran his nose behind her ear, breathing in her scent and making her nipples harden against her bra. 

“I want you, Jason. Please.” She begged rolling her hips against his arousal.

“Good girl.” He growled against her lips as he lifted her top off.  

His lips burned her sensitive skin as he nipped and licked down her throat till he reached her lacey bra. He roughly pulled it down and took her nipple between his teeth as she threw her head back and moaned. 

“You know this doesn’t mean I like you, right?” Marinette mewed as she took her turn to rid him of his jacket and shirt. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less Pixie.” He laughed against her lips.

>.<

“Food bitches.” Chloe’s voice rang through the apartment stirring Marinette from her thoughts of Jason. 

God, she didn’t regret the amazing sex. It was more about the show she’d put on for everyone and the fact that they all knew exactly what they’d done after. How the hell was she going to face them all and what was she going to say to Jason next time she had to see him?

Deciding she wasn’t ready to face Chloe yet either she headed for the shower in hopes to clear her mind. Twenty minutes later with freshly washed hair and dressed in her favourite hoodie and jeans, she slumped down in the chair across from Chloe and a handful of kwamis.

“Okay that was just plan rude.” Chloe grumbled as she got a plate out of the oven and placed it infront of Marinette.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Chlo but what the hell?” Marinette frowned and crossed her arms. “I see what you were trying to do, and I also see the funny side of it but holy shit what the hell am I meant to do on Monday when I have to report to the League?!” 

Chloe choked on her orange juice as she tried her hardest to supress her laughter. “I was just trying to get you laid. The lap dance was all you baby. But might I say a very nice added bonus. You should’ve seen Bruce’s face.” She lost it at that. 

Marinette grumbled “thanks” then threw a piece of bacon at the blonde. 

“So do I lead with, hey Batman, sorry for publicly giving your son a lap dance at your other son’s party but shit was it worth it. Jason sure knows how to use his mouth when he’s not talking shit. You should be real proud. And the multiple O factor mmhmm a girl could get use to that.” Marinette ended with a chefs kiss then rested her elbows on the table and giggled at Chloe who was howling with laughter. 

“Yes! That, say that I dare you. But girl I need all the details. Spill.” 

Two hours later Marinette found herself heading to her studio to work on a last-minute commission. She was lost in her head and didn’t see the person in front of her. It was like running into a brick wall and she would have landed on her ass if it wasn’t for the strong arms that wrapped around her.

“Hey Pixie. Fallin’ for me already.” 

Marinette looked up to find Jason smiling down at her. He smelt amazing and memories of last night came flooding back. “You wish.”

“What if I do?” Jason asked as he brushed a lose strand of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her jaw. 

Marinette’s brain still hadn’t caught up and she mumbled “You don’t live here.” 

“Sure don’t, but I hear there’s a crazy talented designer on this side of the city.” 

“Real smooth Casanova.”

“You seemed to think so last night.”

“What can I say you’re not as annoying when you’re not talking.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t get off on being called a good girl.” He growled in her ear.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him. There was no way she was going to let him know just what those two words did to her panties. “What are you doing here anyway?” She snapped crossing her arms.

“You want the truth Pix? I was on my way to buy some flowers for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

It was the first time Marinette had seen Jason look nervous and it left her speechless. Something that didn’t happen often. “Oh.”

“Look I don’t regret anything that happened last night, but I wanted to ask you out on a date and flowers just seemed right. You know, do things the right way round. Maybe I got the wrong impression about last night.”  

Jason took a step back and Marinette instantly missed the warmth he radiated. She grabbed his jacket and pulled him back to her. “You talk too much.”

“Like you can…” His words were lost when Marinette kissed him hard on the mouth. It only took him a second to catch up. He wrapped one of his hands around her ponytail, gentle pulling her head back so he could deepen the kiss. His other hand rested on her hip under her hoodie. 

It was at this point Marinette realised maybe Jason Todd wasn’t that bad after all. No scrap that, he was totally bad but in the most delicious way.

#jasonette #maribat #jason x marinette #maribat fanfic #ml x dc #deathbymeow #ttt2022

[hyzenthlayroseart]

I know it's the cinephile in me but I have a huge fascination with Elvis's film career.

A short summary is that he wanted to be a serious actor in dramatic roles, and while he did get chances to show off his serious acting chops, he eventually just ended up in cheesy, formulaic musicals which just got worse and worse because his demon of a manager cared more about making money off of the movie soundtracks which lead to Elvis become bitter and depressed about how his film career had turned out. Eventually though he did the 68 Comeback Special on TV and was on top of the world again, but that's a story for another day (or you could research it yourself).

To give another summary about his film career each decade, there were the four pre-army films in the 50s, wildly considered to be his best films, and my favorite of his movies came out that decade (King Creole) so I'd say I agree. Although they were musicals they had still had more of a serious feel than the musicals that would come later, andElvis's characters in these were rebellious, sort of edgy characters (especially in Jailhouse Rock and King Creole).

His post-army films in the 60s were where things changed, with him going from playing rebel characters to starring in family-friendly formulaic musical comedies. Now I'll admit I'm a bit of a hypocrite here. More than anything I mourn the fact that he never got to be the type of actor he wanted and was instead stuck making these types of movies. However, I admit I do have films from this period that I enjoy (G.I. Blues, Blue Hawaii, It Happened at the World's Fair, Viva Las Vegas and Girl Happy). That being said, I don't want to watch every film from this period because I know a lot of them are downright terrible and I guess I want to avoid them out of respect or to avoid second-hand embarrassment. But I'll get back to the 60s period soon.

In the 70s, he didn't actually have anymore films, save for two concert films, Elvis: That's the Way it Is and Elvis on Tour (I highly recommend both if the idea of Elvis concert films sounds interesting to you).

Now back to the 60s. I said that his films at that time were just musical comedies, and that's true. BUT, he did actually make three serious, dramatic films at that time too. The problem is, audiences at the time made them all flop because they wanted to see more formulaic musicals. Yeah, he could've finally had a chance to become the type of actor he wanted but audiences decided they wanted shitty musicals. 

The first one was Flaming Star, a Western. Interestingly, there were gonna be four songs in this movie, but Elvis demanded that two of them be removed, and thankfully it worked. The first song in the film is actually just a song played over the opening credits with the film's title in the lyrics, and the second one is one played in the beginning during a party scene. Since the second song was played during a party scene and therefore fit into the scene naturally as opposed to a song from a musical where breaking out into song and dance happens spontaneously and doesn't make sense logically, I don't consider this film a musical. Anyway, it's an excellent film imo.

The second one is Wild in the Country which is my favorite of the three. In this one Elvis plays a troubled man ordered to live with his uncle on probation and is sent to a psychiatrist who helps him pursue a literary career, but he ends up falling in love with her as well which causes a scandal (a lot more stuff happens but that's my attempt at giving a shitty plot synopsis). The first time I watched it I was floored by how amazing of a film it was which made me even more furious that audiences in the 60s let it flop because we could've had more roles like this. It kept reminding me of his rebel roles from the 50s which is probably a big reason why I loved it so much. Now this one did have a few songs in it but overall it's definitely a dramatic film first and foremost.

And the last one is Charro, another Western. Look, I wanted to like this one so badly. Elvis in a completely non-singing serious role in a dramatic Western? And he has an awesome beard? That sounds awesome! Unfortunately...I found this one so BORING. It's painful to admit, but it's true. I saw a Letterboxd review say that this feels like a sequel because all the characters have an implied history together, and yeah I know what they mean (not saying a film can't have characters with implied history that's up to the audiences to figure out, but here it just feels like it was done wrong. Idk, I can't explain it). It felt like it wanted to have a Spaghetti Western feel, so the whole time I kept thinking how amazing it would've been if it was more like one of Clint Eastwood's iconic Spaghetti Western films like the Fistful of Dollars trilogy. Definitely my least favorite of the three, I'm sad to say.

Soooo yeah. I hope you enjoyed my long-ass ramble, this was actually me trying to contain myself from writing more because like I said, I just find his film career fascinating lmao.

#fan art #elvis presley #flaming star #pacer burton #wild in the country #glenn tyler #charro #jess wade

[banannabethchase]

Screamer - also on AO3

~

Nick and Lucha get caught having sex at the venue, and it makes him wonder what Lucha thinks of their arrangement.

~

Schrodinger's prompt fill. Oops. For Sarah's "lyric prompt during my own title search: "'Cause I'm a screamer, baby, make me a mute" (any nickship)." But I did not - I went a weird - this - alright. Well. Have this…thing.

~

Technically, it’s not Nick’s fault.

He relays this observation to Luchasaurus as they pull on their clothes.

“Are you really trying to suggest that you’re not the one who was screaming?”

Nick’s eyes linger on Lucha’s abs as he pulls his shirt on. He says a silent goodbye. “What?”

“You were the one screaming,” Lucha says. He adjusts his hair and mask. “Therefore, it was your fault.”

“Well, you made me scream,” Nick says. He’s antsy and uncomfortable from the interruption, the feeling of getting so close to what he wanted and losing it crawling into his spine. “Maybe next time do a better job of making me be quiet, then.”

Lucha’s grin goes devilish, enticing. Nick’s hard again in a second. “For next time, little bird. You and I both know Stokely is running straight to Tony to tell him he ran into someone fucking in the closet. You don’t want him to have the chance to confirm it’s us, do you?”

The answer is an emphatic no. Matt and Christian are the only ones who know Lucha and Nick are together. Nick thinks Matt alone is the only one to know they’re official.

“Right,” Nick says. “Right, yeah. But I’m still sure it was your fault.”

Lucha walks up to Nick and tilts his chin up. “I would be more cautious where you place blame, sweetheart. Karma will come to get you.”

Nick closes his eyes for a kiss, but it never comes. His eyes open to see an empty room and a wide open door.

~

“That’s why Mox and I only have sex in the hotel,” Matt says, mid yoga move. Nick is trying to figure out how his legs are working, where he’s holding his weight. “Less of a risk.”

Nick glances around to make sure nobody is listening in. “Jesus, be louder, will you?”

“We’re in a gym with millennials and gen z, Nicholas. You point out one person without headphones or ear buds and I’ll quiet down.”

A glance around the room proves Matt, annoyingly, right. Hook’s got his earbuds in as he wails on a heavy bag. Hangman is running at horse speeds on the treadmill, wearing the Boze headphones Nick had bought him for Christmas. Even Skye and Kyle, right next to each other, have their own headphones in as they compete to see who can do the most squats.

“Okay, yeah,” Nick says. “Fine. But now I’m worried Stokely’s going to be on the prowl, you know?”

“The easy solution is to stop fucking your dinosaur boyfriend at work.” Matt folds himself backward and over until he’s bending in a bridge on his toes and hands. “How’s my bridge? Do you think it’s good?”

“Mox’ll fuck you even if you couldn’t stand on one foot,” Nick says. As bendy as he is, his bridges never look like that. He’s suddenly hit with how much time Matt has been spending with the BCC. He’s even invited brought Adam with him once or twice, for reasons Nick hasn’t been willing to ask about. Yet.

“You don’t think Lucha’s the same?” Matt flips over and jumps to his feet, stretching to the sky. “He seems pretty obsessed with you.”

“Hasn’t even invited me to stay in his hotel room,” Nick says. “Maybe he only agreed when I called him my boyfriend because he wasn’t planning on saying it at all.” He deflates, flopping back onto the dirty hotel gym mats. “Maybe that’s why he won’t tell anyone.”

“None of that,” Matt says, and suddenly Nick’s breath is knocked out of him and there’s two hundred pounds of his old brother on top of him, smothering him in a hug. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t freak out.”

“I would love to be able to breathe.”

“I love you too, Nicky.”

“Not what I said.”

~

Nick flips his phone over for what must be the thirtieth time.

“Oh, my god, just text him,” Adam groans.

Nick jumps. “What? Who?”

“Your secret sex buddy,” Adam explains. “Don’t act like you’re surprised. We usually room next to each other.”

“You can hear me?!”

“Yeah,” Adam says. He doesn’t look disgusted, exactly. More confused. “Like, every time. You are loud as hell with whomever that is.”

Nick lets that sink in. His best friend has heard him have sex. Multiple times. Through hotel walls. It’s not a great revelation. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Great. That’s great.”

“Whoever you’re with is quiet as hell, though,” Adam muses. “He’s gotta be the only reason your weird secret relationship thing is working.”

“How do you know it’s a relationship?”

Adam’s eyes go soft, sweet. Knowing. “Because you’re Nick Jackson, and you fall in love with pretty much everyone you meet.”

“I’m not in love with him!” Nick argues. “I – okay, he’s my boyfriend, but, like –”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Nick,” Adam says, his smile in the corners of his lips. “Just – tonight, try to keep it down. I’m exhausted. And tell your guy I’d love to meet him.” He reaches down and squeezes Nick’s shoulder. “Stay safe, Nicky.”

Nick nods as Adam walks off, more confused than before. His phone, textless, rests in his hands.

~

He fidgets for an hour backstage as the crew sets the ring up. He’s not going after Luchasaurus tonight. Lucha can come find him.

It’s agony.

“Alright.” Kenny sits down in front of Nick. “Talk to me. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” Nick says, adjusting his headset. “As you can see, I’m very busy.”

Kenny sighs. “The green light’s not even on and it’s, like almost an hour from show time.”

Nick shrinks. “Okay, fine, but there’s nothing to talk about.”

“You get dumped or something?” Kenny asks. “Did somebody tell you you’re not the prettiest boy in the universe?” He grins. “Someone say they like Matt more than you?”

“That happened once in 2016 and I made sure it would never happen again,” Nick quips back. “And no. I actually. I have a – a romantic issue?”

“They in a different promotion?” Kenny asks, making himself comfortable. “Bad service or something?”

Nick shakes his head. “No, they’re here.”

“Like, in the building?”

Nick nods.

“Then what are you waiting for!” Kenny exclaims. He leaps to his feet and slings a giant arm under one of Nick’s arms and hauls him to his feet. Like Nick is a rag doll. “Come on, let’s go find him.”

“I – no, I can’t talk to him!”

“Why not?” Kenny asks, yanking Nick along with him, “Is it somebody who speaks Spanish? Japanese? Don’t be racist. I can interpret for you.”

“I am not being racist – what the hell, Kenny?” Nick finally manages to wiggle out of Kenny’s grip. “Also, you don’t speak Spanish!”

“I’ve been practicing my Duolingo,” Kenny replies. “What language do you need to brush up on?”

“Dinosaur is not a language!”

Kenny’s smile goes softer, more calculated, and Nick process what he’s just said. “Oh, I thought that would work on you. So you are sleeping with Luchasaurus.”

Nick blinks. “I – no?”

“Liar,” Kenny says, skipping down the hallway. “What’s the problem? You catch feelings?”

“Not – okay, yes,” Nick says. He has to hustle to catch up with Kenny, still skipping. “But I can’t figure out if he thinks this is as serious as I do.”

“You talk about it?” Kenny asks, pulling open the door to the EVP room. “Contrary to popular opinion, communication is key.”

“Oh, don’t you dare start with that, of all people,” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

Kenny flops down in a chair. “Hey, guys. Did you know Nick is banging Luchasaurus?”

“Yes,” Matt says, yawning.

Adam, on the other hand, is currently dribbling water down the front of his shirt. “That’s ‘Daddy’?!”

Kenny slowly turns to Nick, who can feel himself blushing. “Um.”

“Daddy?” Matt asks, looking horrified as he stares at Adam.

“Look at your brother like that, not me!” Adam says. “Sorry for not enjoying being woken up to people screaming Daddy over and over again.”

Nick wonders how hard it would be to dig a hole in the floor and bury himself.

“Well, that’s a detail,” Matt says, a bit huffy. “Did you mean to tell Kenny, or was that -”

“He tricked me,” Nick says. “He tricked me into telling him.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that, Nicky.” Kenny’s smile is infuriating. “I outsmarted you.”

“That’s not better!”

Kenny shrugs and shuffles so he can get his head in Adam’s lap. “Tell us everything, man. We’re here to help.”

Half an hour later and fifteen from when they’re supposed to be getting ready, Nick’s no more clear on what to do than he was before Kenny says, “So just ask him to take you on a date.”

“I’ve told you,” Nick says. “It’s not like that. We’re – we’re boyfriends, but he doesn’t want to tell anyone, so it doesn’t count.”

“Did you ask him?” Adam asks.

He tits his head. “Ask him what?”

“Did you ask him why he’s not mentioning you to anyone else,” Adam shuffles until he’s sitting up, and Nick catches Kenny’s startled expression. “Or are you freaking out because you’re not communicating.”

“Okay, first off, you’re not allowed to say that because of how little you communicated for years,” Nick fires off. “Second, no. I have not.”

“You could go talk to him,” Matt suggests. He stands, pushing at Nick’s back. “After the match, you’ll talk to him.”

“But –”

“You will talk to him.” Matt’s staring at Nick like he’s trying to bore into Nick’s soul. “Just don’t screw up our match with the BCC, first. I have to prove to Mox we’re better than him. It’s a bet.”

“Noted,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. But he feels better, now that Kenny and Adam know.

The match goes off without a hitch – Adam gets the pin and Nick didn’t break any bones, so it’s pretty much as good as it goes. Mox spends the whole match and aftermath staring at Matt like a wolf stalking a sheep, and Adam and Yuta have a few too many moments that Nick wishes he hadn’t seen.

They stumble backstage, a bit bruised but nothing major.

“I’ll, uh,” Matt says, bright red all over. “I have to – ”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Nick says with a sigh. “Just go have sex with Mox and don’t make me hear it.”

Matt looks like he wants to argue, to say something, but he huffs and stomps off without another word. Adam snorts. Nick decides to ignore that.

“Alright,” Kenny says, patting Nick on the back. “Go talk to your dinosaur.”

Nick looks up to fight, but then Adam and Kenny fold their arms across their chests.

“Don’t look at me like you’re my dads,” he grumbles, but he finds himself walking toward the TNT champion locker room and knocking before he can think better of it.

He knocks, and feels the anxiety build in his chest.

Christian opens the door and rolls his eyes. “Dinosaur! Your little boyfriend’s here.”

Nick shouldn’t feel all fuzzy at that, but he does. It’s the first time anyone but him has said it.

Christian shoulders past him and Nick stumbles just a little bit, righting himself just in time for Luchasaurus to step to the door.

“Hi, there, little bird,” Lucha says. He plants his hands on Nick’s waist and pulls him in, kissing him so intentionally Nick’s brain goes a bit fireworky.

“I – wait,” Nick says. “I want to talk.”

He didn’t think he could see another person’s face fall so completely. “Oh,” Luchasaurus says. He drops his hands from Nick’s waist. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Nick asks. “Yes what?”

Lucha shrugs. “I knew you would reconsider one day.”

“Reconsider?” Nick says. “What would I reconsider?”

Luchasaurus guides them to the little couch in the room and sits them down. “Our arrangement.” He’s strangely controlled, careful.

Nick tries to piece together the words, the context, something to make it make sense. “What about our arrangement?”

“About how this is a fling for you.”

Nick doesn’t miss the clarifier – for you. It takes a second, but, slowly, the realization sinks in. “You think I consider this a fling?”

Luchasaurus shrugs. “You’ve thrown the word boyfriend around, but only in the heat of the moment.”

“Heat of the – you thought I asked you to be my boyfriend in a horny fugue state?” Nick’s baffled. He’s baffled and delighted and spinning. “No, I asked you because I want you to be my boyfriend!”

Luchasaurus blinks behind the mask, then steps to the door and locks it. “You’re saying you’d be interested in a real relationship?”

“I thought we already in one.” Nick fiddles with his fingertips, feeling like his skin doesn’t fit right. “Just – one that you didn’t want to talk about.”

Luchasaurus pulls his mask off, and Nick has to adjust to it. His face is soft, free of paint. He looks more human than Nick’s ever seen him. “Nicholas,” he says gently, making his way to sit on the couch. “I would cry your name from the rooftops if I thought you wanted me to.”

Nick can’t help it. He dives in and kisses Luchasaurus, unable to put into words what he wants. Lucha seems to get it though. He wraps his arms around Nick and holds him tight, like he’s scared to let go.

He pulls back first, leaving Nick’s head spinning. “Little bird, are you sure about this?”

“Am I – of course I’m sure!” Nick exclaims. “Lucha, the first night we had sex I had to call Matt freaking out because I knew I had fall – I knew I liked you too much.” He pauses. “The only time this was a fling was before we kissed.”

Lucha pulls him back down for a kiss, this one quicker, and pulls away. “Does this mean we’re telling people?” He brushes Nick’s hair over his shoulder. “Are we – official?”

“We’re official,” Nick says. “I – I want to – I want to go to HR and fill out stupid paperwork and ask you to get me soda from the fridge when we hang out.”

Lucha nods, a smile spreading across his face. His features without the mask are so much softer, sweeter. Nick shivers, thinking about how this version of Luchasaurus is all his. They don’t have the time for anything – Lucha’s got a title match at the top of the hour and Nick won’t be the one to make him late – so Nick leaves with a lingering kiss as he goes back to gorilla, floating.

“You look happy,” Matt says, adjusting something. A call sheet, probably. “You finally talk to your boyfriend?”

Nick nods. “I’m gonna watch him for Rampage. We’re – it’s for real now.” He has to control his breath to make sure he doesn’t get overexcited, doesn’t hyperventilate. “We’re boyfriends.”

Matt sets down his papers silently. Before Nick can do anything, Matt’s wrapped him in a giant, bone crushing hug. “I’m so happy for you, Nick,” he mumbles into Nick’s neck. “Also, now you can stop calling me in the middle of the night. I can sleep!”

“It would be great if you could be not a bitch for, like, five seconds.”

Matt pulls back, smiling. “Impossible.”

Luchasaurus wins his match, obviously, and Nick watches from the side of the stage as closely as he can. They’re official, sure. But he’d rather be the one to tell the press than for somebody to catch him staring and put the puzzle pieces together on their own.

He’s nearly vibrating as he meets Luchasaurus backstage. “You did great,” he says, breathless. “You did amazing.”

Lucha leans down and kisses him on the top of the head. In front of Tony. In front of Doc. In front of Matt, Kenny, crew members. Despite how innocent it is, it almost feels illicit.

Then he leans down and presses his lips to Nick’s, so gently it feels like a habit. “I’ll see you later at our hotel room.”

Nick nods as Lucha walks off.

“Dude,” Kenny says. “Dude, he loves you.”

Nick beams. “I think he does.”

~

He doesn’t realize until he gets back to the hotel that Luchasaurus meant ‘our’ literally – he’s left a request at the front desk to close out his own hotel room in favor of staying with Nick.

“Sure, he can have a key,” Nick says, eyes flicking over to Lucha. He’s not smiling, exactly, but his expression is mild. Nick thinks he likes Lucha best without the mask, somehow.

“Wonderful,” the desk clerk says, clicking some keys on her computer. “We have to check, of course. Never want to give a requested key to a person with ulterior motives.” She looks up and catches her eye on Lucha’s tattoos, his braids.

Nick fights the urge to say that he likes Lucha’s ulterior motives, and instead takes Lucha’s hand as they go from elevator to the hallway to the door.

“I need to go collect my things from my other room,” Lucha says, lips right by Nick’s ear. “I expect you naked and ready for me by the time I return.”

Nick’s response is a high pitched whine, and he’s suddenly incredibly glad he’d showered before leaving the venue.

He sprints into the bedroom and rips his clothes off, throwing himself down on the bed. The anticipation feels like another layer of clothing he can’t peel off, so he grabs the lube off the bedside and gets started.

He’s two fingers deep inside of himself when the door swings open.

“Nicholas,” Luchasaurus says. “I hope you’ve followed instructions.”

“I – oh – I have,” Nick says back. “Come see.”

Luchasaurus turns on the light. Nick hopes he looks good, spread out on the bed fucking himself on his own fingers. The way Luchasaurus licks his lips and pulls off his own shirt makes him think he does.

“God, you’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Lucha dives onto the bed. Nick begrudgingly pulls his fingers out, leaving himself empty, but it’s worth it when Luchasaurus kisses Nick hard enough to make his head spin.  When he pulls away, his eyes are burning hot into Nick’s. “I need you.”

Nick nods, hands scrambling to the bedside table. He pauses as he closes around the condom packet. “Do we – it’s been no one but you for months,” Nick says. “Only you.”

Lucha’s face turns sunshine sweet. “Only you as well, little bird.” He takes the condom and sets it on the bedside table. “I look forward to feeling all of you.”

Nick nods. “I’m ready. I opened myself up for you, like you said.”

“I want you to know I meant naked,” Lucha says with a low chuckle. “My, my, aren’t you an obedient little thing.” He leans down, sucks a mark into Nick’s neck that has him arching into it.

“Yours,” Nick gasps. “Yours.”

“Mine,” Lucha agrees. He gently pushes Nick’s thighs apart and slides his hand to Nick’s hole, finding him open and, god, just one finger is good but not good enough. “So good for me.”

Nick wiggles his hips. “I’m ready, all of you,” he pleads. “Fuck me.”

“I will, baby,” Luchasaurus says. He arranges Nick’s legs, and guides himself inside of Nick. “God, you always feel so good.”

Nick nods, head spinning. “You too,” he mumbles. “I – please.”

“Can’t be too loud, though,” Lucha muses, the drag of his cock out cruelly slow. “Don’t want to wake your friends.”

“Screw it,” Nick says. “Make me scream. I don’t care.”

“Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.”

Get it he does. Lucha fucks him so hard he has to brace his hands on the headboard, careful to keep his fingers away from the wall as the headboard slams into the wall. He cries Lucha’s name, Daddy, and even once baby, which surprises even himself. Lucha kisses him so long at that Nick’s head spins in need of oxygen, but he doesn’t care. He wants and needs and makes all the noise he wants, because this is his. It doesn’t matter who knows. It doesn’t matter if they hear him saying Lucha’s name, or if they hear Lucha saying his.

This is real.

He comes with a final scream of, “Daddy, yes!” and feels Luchasaurus fill him up not to long after. It feels like a mark, a brand, a claim, like this is real. Like this means they’re going to last.

Lucha half collapses on top of Nick with a hard exhale, arms bracketing Nick’s head. “Calling you my boyfriend is quite the change,” he says. He winds some of Nick’s hair around his fingertips, eyes glancing from Nick’s lips to his eyes. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Nick says, trailing his finger up and down Lucha’s chest. Lucha rolls to the side.  “First thing. But, tonight, let’s just rest.”

“Of course.” Luchasaurus kisses the top of his forehead.

Nick’s cozy and comfortable. He’s trying to convince himself to go clean up in the bathroom when there’s a banging on the wall.

“Are you guys done?!” Adam shouts through the wall. Lucha’s eyes go wide as he meets Nick’s. “Because I’d really like to sleep.”

“We’re good,” Nick yells back.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Adam yells back. “Hi, Luchasaurus.”

“Hi, Hangman.”

Nick dissolves into giggles. “Oops.”

“You sing a little too loudly, little bird,” Lucha chuckles, and they laugh into each other’s skin.

~

Mini Playlist: Claws - Kim Petras Lock Me Up - The Cab I Could Get Used to This - The Veronicas Flesh - Simon Curtis

#LuchasaurNick #WELP #Two for two of fics to finish this weekend #Here we goooooo! #in which sara writes #wtf i like wrestling now??? #Nicrowlas #This one is #It went a Direction #That I did not expect

[scuddisher]

FOR WHAT IT WAS WORTH

What was once a youthful dream of playing in a band and gaining a loving relationship with the bass player quickly becomes a cold memory as Jeremy leaves you behind for his work as a medical examiner. But as a sudden redemption of his passion for being a musician brings him back into your life, you find yourself holding on to the love and lust you once had—and begging for the future you once dreamed of together.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT PAIRING — ex! jeremy x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — fic, exes! au, bass player! au, (rival) band! au, angst, smut, romance, slight science fiction WORD COUNT — 6.1k WARNINGS — mature content, emotionally painful scenarios, mutual pining, heartbreak, longing, finger biting (bc it’s norman lol), lots and lots of romantical and soft gestures btw SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, loss of virginity, protected & unprotected intercourse, teasing, begging, marking, oral (reader receiving), soft dom! jeremy, mocking, creampie, love-making, the smut is better than the plot lmao RELEASE DATE — DEC 14TH, 2022

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this fic was once posted when i was writing for kpop idols, but has since been changed because i believe it fits jeremy quite well! things have also been shifted to include the whole disease-riddled city scenario, but it’s not a huge part of the plot. my brain wanted to see more of bass player! jeremy so bad and this was the outcome lol… & i know jeremy isn't a well known character so if this flops it flops rip

PROLOGUE.

What had brought you to this moment was a segment of events once working in your favor. It was the gut feeling in your stomach as you had stood on the stage, the lights seeming to blind you more than usual that night.

Your music seemed to thump to the beat of your heart, the light stomp of your foot almost too strong like it could help you walk away from everything before it even began.

Even the nulling screams of blank faces in the crowd couldn't contain your surroundings. The bass player strung along the same as he did every night, turning around once or twice to match a look with the drummer—the one no one could see except for sticks and hair like a muppet. The mechanical keyboard still sounded through all the loud instruments, carrying each beat and matching the hitch to your voice.

They were all there, in place and sound meshing—but the darkening spot to your left felt as though it was empty. Where Jeremy stood, fingertips against the strings of his guitar never missing a beat even with his mind somewhere else, it didn't have his true presence.

That moment, his stirring eyes holding back tears with your voice filling his ears as if you were the only two people in the room. Your vocal cords were gaining a sudden shake to the lyrics as reality set in.

It was the first time you knew you were losing him.

His black eyes were sorrowful, the concert soon coming to a close. With every fiber of energy given to your form from the crowd, adrenaline running through your veins, and his—neither of you could match sight of one another. Not all at once, a hand or limb in your peripheral to reassure you that he was still there no matter how far you were going.

Cold night air draws every bit of warmth from your skin, and for the first time in over two years you don't feel the heat of his hands against your neck. Wrapping his grey leather jacket around you, his scent filling your nose—it was all an allusive thought. A chill down your spine not actually occurring.

But what had officially closed all reconsideration of fate from your mind was his frame hunched at the side of his bed later that night, pen in his hand. All evening he had stayed out of your grasp, just far enough to make your skin crawl and body ache from not having him to hold. Muscle memory, the discomfort of being away from him had finally awakened your mind to witness the scene.

His distance, the shadow of a man you once called your own—and a written note on his pillow for you to find right as the door of your once shared apartment shut behind him for the last time.

His calloused hands playing his bass guitar was what had brought your voice out, loud and clear for the interview that would change your life as you knew it. For all he had done, what it was all worth—his note of nothing more than "I love you. Things have just become too dangerous for you." wasn't enough to coat your breaking heart.

You had watched the dawn rise long before most that morning. Purple skies distorted by your tear-filled gaze, the small page was held against your chest like his final words could stitch the hole he left in your heart.

All that you had pushed out to carry on, to keep your career and band afloat—to find a new bass player. It all diminished in a split second every night that you would have to return to your own apartment alone and cold.

When your own music, your own voice, suddenly began to start sounding like it was someone else creating it—you truly learned what had been lost. But as things returned, new and fresh sounds claimed your hearing, and your band took a turn for the best—the contest that would make or break your careers landed at your feet.

Ten bands competing against one another, only for one to win a record deal and a concert in any stadium of choice—it was a fight to the death for an opening you had been hoping for forever.

All was right once more. Guitar player to your right spinning to match sights with the drummer—who carried on a single spin of a stick between beats like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. The mechanical keyboard only made your voice sound clearer, ethereal to the crowd. The latest band member added—a bass player who could play more riffs off the top of his head than you had ever seen before, and his mere existence on the stage only extended the significance of your band to the crowd and competition.

Your first win seemed easy, too easy for what you had gone through to get here.

But his dark shadow, the scent of his light scented cologne vaguely passing through the hallway as you walked off stage, melancholy voice like music in itself as he spoke to someone. That was all it took to make you halt in place and find him throughout the filled backstage space.

Jeremy, once the bassist for your band—now the leading competitor of the competition, stood in your sight with his once sorrow filled eyes finding your own.

He had claimed to leave due to his second job being a health hazard. It was his way of allowing you to step out into fresh air—to rid yourself of someone who could damage you long term if his life was lost to what he did from nine to five.

But all it took was one look into his irises, his pupils dilating to study you where you stood. And it all came fluttering back to you.

"Long time, no see." His voice cracked with a smile, the same one that made you fall in love all over again.

ONE.

In the flesh, the same skin you had kissed and licked time and time again. The muscles in his arms veiny as he gripped at the belt of his bass, ripped jeans tight around his thighs as he walked towards you.

His voice was like velvet speaking in your direction. "I was hoping to see you here."

You could hear the jingling of the chains at his waist, see the lights shining on his dulled out tattoos as he moved in closer to you. He dressed all the same, spoke in the same fashion, carried himself in the way you knew. And yet the people standing behind him weren't your original band.

"Nice trophy." Your band's new bass player was too easy for him to spot, the instrument on his back in the same way Jeremy wore his—only the member was amplified by the glare of the golden statue in his hold. "He was insane out there."

Your mind stopped time for a second, the strings being played minutes before your own bass player had hit the stage seeming all too familiar. He had been here all along, and it was clear he had seen you long before you had seen him.

His band was holding a silver trophy, a sign that you would be seeing Jeremy much more often in this competition.

The man was like a dream. Every mark on his skin was influenced by crowdwork or his practice. You once counted the hard calluses on his hands every night to help you fall asleep, could still smell the metal on his fingertips from where they would graze the strings when he refused to play with a pick.

His hands still appeared the same, black leather, cigarette behind his ear, fingerless gloves pulled from his hands and stuffed into his front left pocket just as he always did when he finished a set. Those same hands, the ones your own clung to the first night you made love—you had dreamt of them so often.

Even in the deepness of the night, darkness all around and even darker behind the lids of your eyes—you could see and feel him clearly.

How his head had fallen against your shoulder, sweaty hair dripping beads of moisture down your body. His forehead felt hot like he was running a fever, the redness in his cheeks half from the motions of his hips lifting to meet yours and half from the bashful eye contact he attempted to hold with you.

You remembered his eyes the most, their roundness becoming thinner, the small drops of tears from pleasure running from the far corners of his eyes as he fell onto his back and allowed you on top to ride him.

That was when his hands had matched yours, leaving your waist from guiding you—your first time making your body anxious. The way his length had glided into you inch by inch until you no longer felt any pain—your bodies connected in the most human way possible.

It was the first time you had officially taken account of how many callouses he actually had along his hands. On the spaces of his palms where his fingers met, at the top line of his thumb most prominent, and each finger tip being rougher from his pinky to his index finger. His hands held yours so tightly, fingers laced together as you let your lower halves control the motions and pleasure.

It was the first and last time you had given yourself to someone—out of love only, your body being the ultimate tool to share the passion you felt in your heart.

Those round puppy eyes matched your sight again after so long, Jeremy's body slightly hunched over to be face to face with you. "What are you thinking about?” His minty breath fanned over your face, the vibrations of his words making you shake. It didn’t take long for his thumb to fall in between his lips, his teeth nervously chewing on the skin around the nail of the digit as it always did. “Hmm?"

There is something so special about the relationships we have once had but lost, that when reconnected—it feels as though no time has passed since parting.

"Huh?"

Your mind had raced off, staring at his hands like they were still yours to take a hold any time you pleased. The love you had, all of the emotions you had gone through—you felt like you had been blasted into the past for just a moment. Like you had made it to this competition, this part of life, together.

"Always somewhere else." Jeremy's head shook, a sly smile on his face making your heart leap.

So easily, the cocky man named Jeremy still had the power of attraction over you. All it would take was a lift of his eyebrow, the one he always cut a slit into to accessorize his facial features and stand out. Such a simple motion would be enough to tell you he knows you were thinking of him, the following laugh breaking you into your own smiling fit.

You watched his full grown brow lift, the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, could make out the soft chuckle leaving his bubbling chest—and for a second in time you were convinced he still loved you.

"I'm right here, Jeremy."

His name rolling off your tongue so easily took his band by surprise, their shared glances making you back deeper into the hall and away from the open space where they gathered under the stairs.

Just as expected—he hadn't mentioned you to them. From the start of the competition until now, they had merely been convinced Jeremy was only a fan of your band.

Their whispers, your name quietly mentioned, and Jeremy's smiling face right in your sight. "I-It was nice seeing you again."

"Don't think you can cut this off so quickly." His voice was a whisper in your ear, blue eyes flashing with the light of something new before he blinked softly. Three steps closer, his breath blowing across your skin, and as always—Jeremy had some unknown reason for making himself known to you that night. "I don't bite."

"Yes you do." Your eyes were swelling just as his nose scrunched, laughter loud from your enclosed distance.

"Not unless you ask, remember?" His plump lips were just a few centimeters from your ear, his tongue poking out between them to tap at your neck.

It was almost as if he forgot who left that night.

"Jeremy." Your voice was stern, his body backing up enough to see the entire frame of your face. "I think we need to talk."

That one word: talk. He hated that word. All Jeremy ever wanted was to speak his mind to you, day or night—and reciprocate the conversation. Not once did he ever enjoy the use of the statement. He believed saying that a talk was necessary took away the magic of just holding the conversation itself.

You could see his skin crawl. Watching as his brows knitted, his lips fell into a pout, and his eyes watered with worry—even he knew this had to happen at some point.

"We do." His voice had turned so soft, a weak tone in his two words that made a chill run up your spine. "I need to tell you what happened."

TWO.

The buzzing sign of the twenty-four-hour coffee shop welcomed you in with an additional chime of a bell over the door. Jeremy walked before you with nothing but his bass in its bag on his back, and your mind couldn't help but remember how often you had seen this image before things ended.

The first time you confessed to someone, it was Jeremy—standing out in the midst of the snow on the long walk home. Transportation had taken away the seclusion, going with friends to the corner store for some quick drinks and food would have lessened the privacy. And for once, you and Jeremy had full control on when you wanted to be alone together.

"Isn't there a saying—never date the lead singer of the band?" You remember his words so clearly, even the laugh that followed them. "I think I've broken a rule here."

"Is that a yes?" Your voice held cheer, cheeks changing temperature quickly from the freezing night air.

"There's no way I'm passing you up." His arm wrapped around you, pulling you in.

Cheek to cheek, not even a kiss placed on your face would have made your heart beat as hard and fast as it had. Witnessing him pull the thick and already warm leather jacket off his back and around yours made you swallow hard. Adjusting your coat, he placed his gloved hands against your cheeks to hold you in place just so he could look deeply into your eyes.

"Of course it's a yes."

"I never meant to leave you like that."

He sat across from you, steaming drink cupped between his hands to warm his cold fingertips. He looked all the same the more you stared, but the subtle changes from time having passed still stood out.

The natural dark blonde locks of his hair were longer, a few extra piercings along his ears, and his once sliced eyebrow now grown out with the mark of another piercing recently removed beginning to heal. His clothes seemed new, not thrifted as he used to wear. And even as he spoke, his voice seemed to have grown sadder from what you had last heard.

"There was just so much going on."

"Like what?"

You never considered what he could say that would fix what was broken. Words don't carry as much weight when spoken out of comfort compared to when spoken out of spite.

Thousands of times your mind raced with what could have been the real reason he left you that night without any words ever spoken aloud. Was he seeing someone else behind your back? Had he felt differently about the choices of the band? Was it you? Had you done something to cause him to leave? If his work caused so much sudden change to occur, why had that night specifically driven him to depart, claiming it was out of his care and the safety of your well-being?

What words could possibly cover that?

"I was promised a raise. A new job had become available as the CDC needed more examiners within the city, but the real cost of the job was needing to be fully quarantined." He began, words soft and slow like he regretted saying them now instead of then. "When I got there, they had me practically twiddling my thumbs while doctors with full degrees did the work for me."

"They treated you like the custodian even though they asked you to be there?"

Jeremy, as much as he appeared to be this head-strong bass player with nothing truly figured out—was actually a well-known genius in his department, working for health and services as a part-time examiner and occasional forensic executive. Every glistening piece of jewelry, his beautiful features and likable personality always put him in the spotlight of the stage, but so few people knew what he actually did for a living. All he wanted to do was make music and work off his school loans.

"Exactly." His hand flattened out with his palm up in your direction, a way of showing his appreciation for you following along with what he explained. "I was told, and I swear to this—"

Agony, pain, restless nights of not knowing why. All you wanted was him to come home to you, but all he was trying to do was what he believed was right for himself and you along the way.

"—that you and the band would be safe until we found the leading string of the disease. Something for the authorities to put on the death certificates of all the innocent lives lost to something we couldn’t entirely explain." You could hear him holding back a stutter when he spoke of you. "That this nightmare would come to and end, and I could come home.."

"Can't trust scientists." You had said it dozens of times as a joke.

"But after the first breakthrough, they needed more. As much as I was there to help, and as little as they gave me to do—they refused to let me leave. They made me sign an NDA and everything."

It was a mistake. He had gambled everything on his own thinking he could change the course of your careers all in one go. Fix all the damage his job and debt had done. But he had forgotten about the team effort you and your band had originally created in his solo act of braveness.

"I didn't know what to think." You almost cut him off, the words about to leave his mouth behind sucked back in by his deep inhale. "When you left me that night and I woke up to a note, I couldn't find any reason."

"I thought I would have things sorted and be back home to you in no time."

There was that word again. Home, you both still referred to each other as home.

"But when I came back from quarantine, I saw the billboards of the band's new release to be played live in concert." He breathed so unsteadily. "For some reason, I believed you had moved on without me."

"We did." The tears that had been held down all night slowly began to leave your eyes. You took notice in the whites of Jeremy’s eyes slowly turning red from irritation, finally allowing himself to cry, too. "Because we got the flyer about this competition from our manager. He said it was our chance to get signed, that all we needed was a bass player."

"Right—"

"And when we finally saw you again—" Tears dripped into your drink, long turned cold from the slow conversation pursuing between you and the man you still love like he never went away. "Your name was plastered with some other band. The one you're with now."

"When things started becoming clearer, we finally got a release date for my floor. After that, they pretty much put us out back on the street to return home. Some of us were gone so long, we didn’t have a home to return to. And when I came home, the locks were changed. I knew you had changed with it."

Jeremy, always concerned about others, never stopped fighting.

"I didn’t know any other sort of hobby than the band, so I had to turn to what I knew and find another one that needed me.” He laughed gently, peering down at his shaky hands. “None of us thought we’d even get anywhere until we found the flyer on some random diner's bulletin board. We barely even made it into the sign in list earlier." Jeremy's hand pressed into his face, wiping away the tears he could no longer hold back. "And when I saw the band’s name written on that list—"

Reality was so different, but the two of you still lived in a world where things were connected and flourishing.

"I knew fate was telling me to find you again. No matter the cost. I just—had to tell you what actually happened and let you decide for yourself."

"Decide what, Jeremy?"

"If you would even take me back."

THREE.

You could still feel those calloused fingers pulling at the strings of your heart. It wasn't just his soft eyes, the tears he wept beginning to dry into his skin, or his shaking hand reaching out for your own that made you realize everything was happening for a reason.

It was him, Jeremy sitting before you as himself—as new and old as he appeared, but still the same man you had fallen in love with.

What words could comfort you? None. There was nothing to be said between two broken-hearted people finding themselves in a familiar space all over again.

Tailored to a crowd or to a job’s space, working the energy of so many people time and time again—you and Jeremy had long surpassed basic criteria needed to read a room.

Your body lifted from your seat, hunching over the table and taking his chin between your thumb and index finger. You heard him gasp, felt the sudden breath being sucked into his body as your lips met—and most importantly, felt him fall into a deep kiss.

Although your mind had convinced you to fight it, to black out Jeremy and carry on—there was nothing like feeling his kiss. His plump lips moving along yours, the gentle smell of his sweated out shampoo filling your nostrils from such a close angle. And Jeremy, shaking as he fell back into his seat with a giddy smile on his face.

"So, is that a yes?" This time it was him asking the question that made your body rock back and forth in wonder and excitement.

A paid tab, his hand in yours, and his body guiding you out of the cafe out into the cool night air. Even the lights shined in a similar way, the moon overhead igniting more adrenaline to push through your veins.

And the shiver up your spine didn't go unnoticed—Jeremy's hand falling into a pocket of his leather jacket, the one item of clothing you never imagined you'd see again.

That jacket, made of soft string and thick fake leather—once black but now faded into a gray—the piece wrapped around your form like it had never left.

"I think we're getting a redo." Jeremy was witty towards the scenario, his own sense of deja vu overcoming him and causing him to speak. "Too bad we don't have our apartment to go back to."

You could see his face contort in confusion at the sound of the jingling keys, his eyes matching the loop around your fingers as you pulled the object from your bag. "Thought rent would be more than it was."

His smile, wide and cheeky watching the keys he had left behind—the second object he left in hopes for you to find—still in your safekeeping.

"Nice trick." You claimed, a laugh stifling your words. "Putting your key on my key ring before you left."

"Force of habit to leave hints, I guess."

With Jeremy moving into the room, the apartment's air seemed to revert back to how it smelled then. A scented candle lit somewhere, his natural scent moving throughout the space and claiming it all over again.

You had kept from moving anything. The furniture seemed dented into the flooring from where it sat for so long, even your matched collections of vinyls still stood in the same order on the bookshelf. The same plates and silverware, rugs only cleaned annually and placed back into their spots, blankets folded the same—the apartment still catered to a first time couple's comfort and solace.

"It's—" His laugh, that sweet sound you dreamed of hearing in this space again. "—the same. All of it."

His eyes were as wide as his grin, sight following every familiar feature to the home as he circled the studio apartment.

His calloused hands feeling at the blanket he always covered you and himself with when you would begin to doze off on the couch. His eyes wandered the framed pictures and drawings along the walls, laughing at the randomly placed polaroids scattered across the apartment. It was all joy, the remaining piece of his hold on his emotions finally giving way when he found sight of the bed.

His side was completely made, stiff and the same as he had left it. It was almost as if he could still see the note on his pillow, remembering his own handwriting on the little piece of paper that broke his heart to write. Your side of the bed was entirely messy unlike his made-up side, an obvious sign that you still wished him to be there during the night.

You could see his Adam's apple bob, hear the sounds of a choked up man begin to crack. The tears that fell down his soft cheeks—they were held in for years when they were meant to be released that night, same as everything else.

"I really—" He sniffled between words, your sudden appearance before him pulling him into a hug only making him cry harder. "—left all of this behind for some stupid job that I thought would make things easier in the future?"

"You were thinking of everything at once, Jeremy." On the off-style occasion that words do comfort, now was the proper example. "Thinking is how I became the one you loved. How I got on that stage every night with you. And how I continued to get up there even when you weren't by my side."

"H-How? How did you have the strength to do all of that after what happened?" He cried.

"Do you remember the first thing you said to me that night after we made love for the first time?" Your words were fast, like you yourself wanted them out and into his ears to catch him up to pace—to make him feel what you felt then and now. "It's the same thing you wrote on that note that night, Jeremy."

"I love you."

"You put your forehead against mine so all I could see was your eyes. All I could do was hear your voice as I came back into reality. And that was the first thing you said to bring me back. To make me understand—"

"You were the last person I ever imagined parting from. Ever." Jeremy rambled, his eyes clouded with his own tears as his head fell against your shoulder and grip tightened around you. "You were the first person I ever made love to. And the last."

"I never wanted anyone else more than I wanted you." Your words became softer, his brown but gold highlighted locks running between your fingers as you tugged at the strands to get his attention. Lifting his head and matching your sight, it was like lightning had struck your heart with true love. "And you gave me more."

"I-I love you. I still love you. No—I never stopped." His words ran together, body shaking in your hold with his eyes watching yours. "My back aches in every motel bed. My ears can't enjoy music when you're not the one singing along to my bass."

He appeared so weak, strengthened by your frame before him just as the last of the painful images of loneliness he suffered through faded away, his lips matching yours. Your mind, once racing with a million thoughts of what was or what could be, finally shut up at the sake of having Jeremy back in your hold and his kiss surpassing every other meaningful occurrence in that moment.

When you finally backed away, his head pressing into your neck to place soft kisses while he caught his breath—things had fallen into place. His bag on the sofa, scent filling the space more each second he stood within its walls, and you—falling deep into the sensual spell of your ex boyfriend's lust once more.

"I need you."

FOUR.

His mouth attached to your neck, bringing a low moan from between your lips. His soft hair chilling against your skin from the fibers still holding the temperature of the night air from minutes before.

Scent thick in your nostrils, the same cologne he always wore to a large show—it seemed to drown out all your senses at once and allow him to be the only thing on your mind.

Jeremy always had a way of pulling you from reality, placing you in a dream-like state for hours at a time. His voice calling into your ear with light sounds of pleasure, your name the loudest of them all. His skin heating up quickly against your own, the discarded clothing now laying over the same objects he couldn't take his eyes off before.

And for a split second—a dash of your eyes around the room witnessed everything you had missed. Finding his shirt tossed on the bookshelf where the vinyls were stacked. His pants slowly falling off the arm of the sofa. Jermy on top of you, the weight of both your bodies falling into the same dip in the cushions as you always did. It was heaven.

"Fuck—" The word was subtle from his mouth, his tongue’s main focus on kitten licking the soft spot on your neck. "I missed this."

"Me too." You whined, combing your fingers through his hair.

His shirtless form, abs tightening and expanding with each breath that overtook both his chest and stomach from how hard he panted. You could hear his hisses, each bump of your thigh against his length making it harder for him to not lose himself right then and there.

"Still a tease." He nearly growled.

Your neck began to bore him as his mouth moved lower. Across your chest, a lap at your hardening nipples, and finding himself sucking at the skin of your lower abdomen right above your underwear.

It was by accident, the loud gasp you released at the feeling of his lips finding you through the thin fabric of your underwear. His tongue poking between his lips to taste you, arousal overtaking your own body in the same way it was his.

Your mind felt fuzzy at the feeling of him lapping at you through the fabric. Legs shaking, kicking at his own bent knees pressing into the sofa. His arms at either side of your head, the strong scent of his deodorant once clouding the scent of your lightly-sweated bodies beginning to fill the room. And you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The mess he had created from his own saliva soaking against your underwear mixed with your own responsive juices made a wet sound as he pulled at them. Peeling them from you, separating your legs to place himself comfortably between them, and the man seemed to lose himself over you.

His tongue was like hot water overlapping every sensitive spot, his fingers coating where his mouth couldn't. You could hardly make a sound from the amount of pleasure filling you all at once, Jeremy's name the only syllables you could mutter.

"What do you want?" That eyebrow lift, his smirk covered in a glistening, light coat of arousal and saliva, and his arms pressing beneath you.

Without missing a beat, it only took two steps and Jeremy's strong arms to lift and toss you onto the bed. Shaking from the cool air against your hot skin, he could only laugh at the way your hand reached out for him.

"Want me?" He begged the question, but you were the only one truly begging. To feel him again—he knew you needed him badly. "Am I what you want?"

"J-Jeremy—I, please."

"Please! Please!" His tone was mocking but soft—dark, his eyes darker, and his body leaning over you like he was the only one you'd ever want to see again. And he was right. He spoke just above a whisper, calmly although it seemed as if his head was buzzing with excitement. "Can't believe I left you all alone."

This time the statement wasn't out of sadness, not a drip of worry on his tongue. He knew you'd touch yourself to him, whine his name that only you could hear, and find yourself wishing your hands were his. The man had you wrapped around his finger, your heart beating rhythmically as he finally sunk into your walls.

Maybe it was the amount of saliva he poured onto you through his tongue, allowing himself to match the natural wetness your body was already creating. But the squelch from his cock slipping into you, it was nothing like the cry that left your mouth.

His calloused hand found yours, stretching your fingers from the tight fist it clenched into from feeling full. The rough calluses, a huff from Jeremy to tell you he was already too close to hold on much longer, and the deepest thrust into you he could create.

Your hips matched his own, feeling him hitting so deep into you made your words even less coherent than they were to start. You could feel the sweat from his body dripping onto your own, feel the heat radiating off him.

With your body finally getting the fill it needed, wanted, dreamt of, and begged for—a white light quickly took over your sight, slowly turning into darkness and stars.

You could hardly make him out, Jeremy's cock burying itself inside of you until the flush heat you felt coming from his body suddenly filled your insides.

"Fuck—my, ahh. I'm—" Jeremy was just at a loss for words as you, his hand holding yours tightly and forehead pressing into yours the only sign for you to come back into reality.

Sweat from both your bodies mixed together, his body keeping upright above yours with only his head leaning against you and cock slowly pulling out.

"Jere-my—" You stuttered, his eyes quickly looking into your own as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it, baby?"

"Please don't leave me this time."

His pearled smile was bright in your eyesight, closing to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rate, and hear his breath regain a steady pace. "I'm not going anywhere."

Falling to his side of the bed, the space cold enough to make him shiver—you finally realized how full circle things had come. The lonesome nights had ended, any tears falling from now on were only out of happiness—and Jeremy was right by your side.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, pulling you into his side and watching you rest your head on his chest.

"I was just thinking—" Your words were finally full of energy and not breathless. "—where to go from here."

"With the competition?"

Your head nodded, eyes catching another smirk growing across his lips.

"I've been thinking about that, myself." He grinned. "And you know what I figured out?"

"What's that, Jeremy?"

"Nowhere in the rules does it state that two bands can't form one band together in order to win."

Clever as they come, a man with the lights shining on him before he even understood his talent or power of enthrallment, and especially where his head and heart lay in the world. Jeremy had been put right where he belongs in life, and as your partner—and was quickly learning that there was more in store for the both of you, together.

"So, what do you say? Want that do-over?"

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#this is my first fic posted here lol please go easy on me #norman reedus smut #norman reedus imagines #norman reedus scenarios #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus fanfiction

[docholligay]

13. United Kingdom

This is one of my daughter’s favorites, because she’s two and also europop trash. She seems (seems) to like Israel slightly more, but she’s a toddler and can’t quite use the ranker yet. I also knew @verbforverb was going to like this the SECOND it came out.

I have mentioned that I try very very hard, and sometimes fail, at letting the personalities of the singers get to me in any measurable way, because I’m not asking someone to be likeable, I’m asking them to sing.

I ABSOLUTELY fail with Mae Muller. There are so many things I hate about this song. I hate the accent levelling* until the JARRING jump where she talks like a person in her Spice Girls Spoken word moment, I hate that the song sounds like a 3 minute commercial jingle that you can’t get out of your head (as jetty put it), I hate the lyrics, I hate it all.

But goddamnit. I LOVE Mae Muller. I HATE that I like her so much. She did a pretty terrible job in Barcelona, really, and immediately the next day put out a short of her running through the airport that said “Me fleeing Barcelona after [twitterid] said my vocals flopped last night (I’m sick!)” and I laughed and I hated that I laughed. She is funny and engaging on stage, and she is honestly like, sorry verb you’ve been replaced by a new British Jewish mess I’d like to get drunk with (Actually, come along, i think it’ll take both of us to wrangle her). She’s tacky and I KNOW she’s a sloppy drunk and I am SO MAD about how much I like her and I want her to do well. DESPITE HATING EVERYTHING ABOUT HER SONG. RAGE.

And she was fucked from the word go by TAP music, who, so there was this huge rumor that Rina Sawayama was going to be tapped to be the Eurovision rep. It was never going to happen. It was a FUCKING PIPE DREAM. Rina has actual things to do with her life (affectionate). This was rumored even to be her song, I think it JUST hit the line for being viable:

Would I have loved that? Yeah, I absolutely would have. But it was never going to happen, and of course Rina played along, and they took WAY  too long to announce Mae, and honestly...they could have just candidly said, “Okay we promise it’s not Rina, we can’t wait for you to see who we picked” ANyway Mae was IMMEDIATELY thrown into a situation where she was a disappointment, which is SO UNFAIR to an artist no matter how I feel about them.

And she’s basically just made it her business to charm the shit out of every human being who comes into contact with her. I worry about her some, in that I fucking wish she would stop trying to dance and sing. She can’t do it. She loses her breath. Like, work on your cardio, but for now, STAND STILL. I doubt she’ll flop, but she’s closing the whole show and I would hate for her to put in a disappointing result (BECAUSE SHE’S CHARMED ME) because no one is paying attention to her actual abilities. She’s also changed the Spice Girls Moment and I don’t like the revamp as much.

*Every time I say this, someone says this isn’t a real thing, and this is just what singing is like, and, no, it isn’t. I have linked people papers and articles and I’m tired of doing that for shit you can hear with your own ears. It’s a noted observable fact in music, particularly mainstream music, it’s called accent levelling, and it is true and real even if that fact annoys you because maybe you or someone you love do it subconsciously. It’s a strange midwest-atlantic American mix that’s been more and more codified since the 80s, and, I also do it and I don’t care for that either! Look no further than singers like Billy Bragg or Steve Earle or Dave Carter, or to use a better known example, Lily Allen, to see it doesn’t actually have to be that way! It’s due to a series of media based and sociocultural factors, and also pressure from mainstream record companies to ‘sound mainstream’ but it’s not just how people sing. I said I wasn’t going to link, but here’s a very straightforward article from the guy who literally wrote the Cambridge Dictionary of the English Language and also was chair of his department in Reading for ten years, also wrote a great book about English pronunciation. Link.

#translated from the original European #Eurovision ranking 2023

[garbage--account]

Random dream I had because it is horny spooky season 👻 #5 :

>sets in the Hakuren version of Honosuto (if this doesn't exist yet, please make one)

>Hakuren organises a race for their sport festival

>!!!concept warning!!! : participants are paired by 2 and have to find a specific item hidden in a spooky forest, that they have to find by searching clues without getting lost and then exit the forest as soon as possible. Since the forest is known to be cursed, participants must exchange one of their belonging to another participant (preferably with someone dear if they are racing too) before entering. The item you gave to the other person protects you from the curse and the item they gave you protects them : don't lose or break it (before you exit, never preferably). Whether the item is expensive/precious doesn't matter tho.

>Shirou is paired with Someoka for the race and gives Atsuya his mental institute bracelet. Atsuya is paired with Nae and gives Shirou his Nokia 3310.

>Atsuya : "You better be careful with my cellphone, if you break it, you pay. Even if there is no chance you could break this phone. It is not you who break the Nokia 3310, it's the Nokia 3310 who breaks your hips. Unlike the piece of paper trash you just gave me 🤮 Why are you so cheap Aniki 😡"

>The race starts

>splittingthegang.mp3

>0.0001673 seconds later, Atsuya and Nae got lost in some random cave below a spooky abandonned house, where they had to fight a crusty-ass hobo screaming "the queen has returned!!!"

>Nae complains because they are lost and far to find the object they must find to win, while climbing behind Atsuya

>Meanwhile Atsuya : "WHY THE FUCK THEY PUT THIS IN THAT BUTTHOLE?!" (yes, the fucking object was here so they successfully failed at losing)

>Also Atsuya : "oh no, a rock" *proceeds to fall dramatically and rip Shirou's bracelet*

>Meanwhile, Shirou be like "Someoka, look those funny looking sticks ! Those must be clues left by the school...."

The sticks :

>But Shirou was alone all along *omnious music playing*

>Later, Atsuya and Nae are on the finishing line, slurping on milk as if it was some alcoholized cocktail with MDMA and with sunglasses on 😎🍹

>they saw Someoka coming back from the forest without Shirou because he lost him and didn't even found the item they were looking to win the race 😭

>"this is so sad", Nae gave him milk to drown the sadness

TW this is getting inappropriate 🙈🙉🙊 if you're under 18 or don't wanna read dirty stuff, don't read blow i don't wanna get blocked or reported for this

>meanwhile, Shirou got attacked by an invisible force

Shirou : BITCH WHY ARE YOU HERE ?! *proceeds to throw fits to the air, runs away dramatically and trips over nothing while the spirit possesses him*

>it turns out to be the ghost of Cupcakke's great great grandmother (her house was the abandonned one with the hobo). The ghost possesses all the flops in the forest to get revenge on every Da Boyz she can find. Those who are possessed can only express themselves through Cupcakke songs and remixes lyrics.

>Then, Shirou and the flops (=half of the participants 'cause Atsuya is not the only dumbass to have lost/broken the object they were supposed to take care) start to smack and snatch the wigs of those who are still in the forest and doing naked rituals to revive random floptok icons

>some survivors of those attacks made it out the finishing line and told the unspeakable horrors they have witnessed

>them and the others who were outta the forest googled "how to exorcize a person in 0.01 second" and found all the infos about the flop curse

>Meanwhile, Atsuya : *hands a piece of paper to Nae*

Nae : "why are u givin me this?"

Atsuya : "it's my Phone number"

Nae : "ew, stop flirting with me 🤮"

Atsuya : "BITCH *slaps her* it's to localize Aniki, he has my Phone !"

Nae : *dials number*

*ringtone ringing in the background*

Atsuya : "ok he's over there"

Nae : "how do you even know ?"

Atsuya : "u dumb bitch, are you even serious 🤬"

Someoka : *remembers he is in the story* "okay, imma gonna find him" *re-enters the forest*

>Back in the forest, Someoka caught Shirou half-naked while doing Da Boyz sacrifice to Jiafei, but Shirou got away of his claws by saying "Papi"

>Someoka got scared and tried to run away but can still hear the "smack my ass like a drum" and "POOSAY" close behind him

>the 2 kept going even out of the forest.

>Quickly, people seized Shirou and started the exorcism, but he started to vomit c*m on ppl, turning in head behing his back, walking at 4 legs upside down, and screams other unappropriate stuff in the Cupcakke discography (ex : change thongs 2 times a day, i save d*cks by giving them cpr, i'm horny, etc.)

>the exorcisms aren't exorcising

>at some point, he shouted "only d*ck can hurt my ass" and his poosay dropped the Nokia 3310

>suddenly, Atsuya became intelligent and got an idea 💡🤓 #smartera

Atsuya : guys, he just gave away the solution, we know how to exorcise him !

Ppl : *unzips pants* alright we have to make the ghost cum ?

Atsuya : NO U BUNCH OF HORNY FUCKBOIS, BEAT THE GHOST UP WITH THE DAMN PHONE *beats all the homophobes here and then his bro with the Nokia*

>Later, at the hospital, Atsuya tells his bro he was possessed by some horny spirit along with a bunch of girls and how his phone saved the universe from greater evil, while Shirou (who just regained conciousness) is wondering why his poosay itches so much 😳

The end 💅 Hope you enjoyed 💋

#Inazuma Eleven #Tumblr is my dream diary #Ngl the honosuto scavenger hunt inspired me #flop era #This is not serious so don't get offended pls #This doesn't do Shirou Atsuya Nae and Someoka justice #Cursed forest #Cupcakke vengeful ghost #Honosuto but it's Hakuren centered #not 🌽 but in case DON’T READ IF UR A CHILD #Help Nae and Someoka are side-characters 😢 #Took me days to finish the damn post #fubuki shirou #fubuki atsuya #shiratoya nae #someoka ryuugo #And some other mfs #Cringefail horror story #Tell me your fck up IE dreams/nightmares/horror story #@risethemoon (could this be Fubuki clone AU's foreshadowing ?) #Nah it's just shitpost #Blair witch project and The exorcist references #Inatober