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#whatever its way too early to think about this stuff

rpstartersinc · 3 days

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* 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝟑: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording! potential spoilers!

" we have been apart for far too long. "

" seems as though your business is thriving. "

" there's no need to shout. "

" you've gotten rather good. "

" do you not wish to greet me? "

" i was nowhere and everywhere. "

" the lack of interest here today shall usher me to an early grave at any moment. "

" i simply could use some peace. "

" the truth has a way of rearing its ugly head. "

" i take it you are finally done with daydreaming? "

" do you find yourself back in town for any particular reason? in search of something or... someone? "

" i do not wish to see a citrus colour, ever again. "

" you have never been one for silly romances. "

" a man cannot tell his secrets. "

" i have kept your secret exactly because i do not wish to keep revisiting the past. "

" i must make a good impression. "

" i wonder what whistledown will write about next issue. "

" what a striking gown you have on. "

" i should like a moment alone. "

" once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. "

" you do not much like attracting notice, do you? "

" it is a pity you did not choose something sturdier. "

" if you are going to make me say it out loud, i miss you. "

" what you did was cruel, and unnecessary. "

" i'm sorry for intruding. "

" it pains me to see you upset. "

" if a husband is what you seek, then... let me help you. "

" what i have learned is that charm can be taught. "

" i do love a game, especially when i am so often the victor. "

" i do not fear change, i embrace it. "

" i do not care what lady whistledown writes about me. "

" i should like to see your skills as they are, first. "

" i suggest you make good use of it. "

" you agree, i am unteachable. "

" you already know how to do this. "

" it is impossible to be in society and not care what others think. "

" do you think me a magician? "

" we needed a place to be alone. "

" you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me. "

" that's exactly why i will feel even more embarrassed, because i know you. "

" somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth, and i find myself saying the wrong thing or more likely nothing at all. "

" your eyes are the most remarkable shade of blue. yet, somehow, they shine even brighter when you are kind. "

" your writing... it is very good. "

" they've taken to hunting in packs. "

" you know, whenever i have a disagreement with an acquaintance, i find the best course of action is simply to pretend they are dead. "

" talents? no. unless you consider a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time a talent. "

" now i can stuff my mouth with chocolates without fear of appearing impolite. "

" i do not much care for idle gossip. "

" i think i am somehow afraid i will do something wrong. "

" despite the cover of night, there are still eyes upon us all at all times. "

" what is foolish is being unreasonable about what you can achieve. "

" men can often cause much more trouble than they are worth. "

" i bribed her to give us a minute alone. "

" a small taste of the light can lead to that most dangerous of emotions: hope. "

" once hope is lost, a lady may become reckless. "

" would you kiss me? "

" i do not wish to die without ever having been kissed. "

" i apologise for the late hour, but i had to see you, immediately. "

" you occupy my every thought. "

" you slept late. "

" i slept peacefully. "

" a week sequestered in your room, and you come down and you say this to me? "

" i noticed you have not been seen in society for some time. "

" i would certainly rather be predator than prey. "

" i think i see a corner in which to hide myself. "

" you must simply follow your heart. "

" it is the mark of a good man, to help a friend in need. "

" unfortunately, i require all pity for myself. "

" i find your frankness immensely refreshing. "

" is there some reason you are trying to escape civilisation? "

" we can do whatever we want. "

" i have heard a great deal about you. "

" that was a thrilling distraction, was it not? "

" it was a good thing no one was injured. "

" a man can be pensive, can he not? "

" i am in awe of your heroism. "

" some cannot help being heroes. "

" in need of some quiet? i have been in search of it all night. "

" perhaps we can enjoy the silence together. "

" well, then you have misjudged me. "

" i am not afraid of you. "

" courage is within us all. "

" as long as we are honest with ourselves and about our feelings, it is possible to do anything. "

" the person i was earlier today... i was pretending to be someone i am not. "

" how many yous are there, exactly? and where do you hide them all? "

" i have come to call on you. "

" i do not wish to be called on. "

" step another pace backwards, you read me too well. "

" i do not wish to interfere. "

" i cannot have you growing distracted. "

" i do not mind a stirring tale or a book of fact but, in truth i find myself drawn back time and time again to stories of... love. "

" i do not believe i have ever had a friend call to the house before. "

" a gentleman must keep some things to himself. "

" do not tell me you are holding out for love. "

" love is make-believe. "

" do you know what is romantic? security. "

" i am grateful to you, for keeping me company. "

" past lives are dangerous places to revisit. "

" if you need to keep your distance from me a while, i understand. "

" you are unlike many people. "

" i do not feel much like talking. "

" i am not a man of many words. "

" my work has such a large portion of my heart it may be difficult to make more space. "

" i cannot stand by and watch you make a mistake. "

" the only mistake was me ever asking for your help in the first place. "

" it is said that the heart is forever making the head its fool. "

" will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone. "

" what if i did have feelings for you? "

" i have spent so long trying to feel less. "

" these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings, feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. "

" do not say things you do not mean. "

" do you think anyone saw us? "

" are you going to marry me or not? "

#( sentence. )#bridgerton rp #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp meme #rp starters #tv series #romance #drama

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sunfaggot · 19 days

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Hmmmmm I definitely wouldn't be fit to be a parent without a lot of therapy but maybe in the FARRRRR future adoption would be something i'd consider

#whatever its way too early to think about this stuff

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lucienne-thee-librarian · 7 days

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Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly that's not the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

#thessaly #wanda the sandman #hob gadling #I could've cried sexism!!! Problematic Male vs Female Characters except 1) I don't actually think that's the main reason *here*#2) there are WAY better examples of that particular double standard in this fandom #also i can admit when I'm a bit of a hypocrite or was.#i used to dip my toes into the dreamling stuff too early on #but idk. It just got too sour seeing ppl whitewash (lol I know I'm a comedian)#what he did over and over. And I genuinely had started to wonder #if the show hadn't included that particular crime and I'd just imagined it from the comics because #my memory is shit sometimes and I guess I was naive. I *wanted* to believe someone would talk aboutit #if it had made it in. but ultimately i went back and checked and no #and seeing how the whole fandom behaving affected my non-white mutuals some of whom...#like these are my friends man or ppl I just respect and I can't just. Ignore their feelings and their pov #and act like they werent making points or it doesn't matter #like it's all just fun and games for everyone on the same terms. And seeing how easy it was #for everyone to ignore was so unsettling. I couldn't keep pretending it was just fiction and didn't affect anyone real #Call me a bully a t3rf apologist (fuck you and for the record. no)#a puritan or a Fancop (actually stop comparing #people disagreeing with you online to what cops do. For fucks sake you just make it look like nothing is really real to you outside fandom)#whatever man. Whatever helps you sleep. I'm just gonna block you #if you're clearly sticking your fingers in your ears. engaging with you is a waste of time and energy then #Hell I have sympathy for anyone who doesn't like thessaly #especially trans fans. Especially rn. But lbr that sympathy for a lot of the white trans/queer fans only goes one way!!!#never gets extended to anyone else's issues. Like THATSthe issue. And it's shitty!#(sorry this post is not about me in the confessional lol that's why I put this at the bottom #I just had feelings to get out and yes its my blog but i didn't want to clog the airways)

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins.

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all.

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?"

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up.

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him.

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square.

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time.

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

#ha ha I am sorry!#god it's long #I hope you love it <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie stranger things

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ghostgirl101 · 7 months

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writing for william afton?? Yeah sure I'll get craaaazy ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠) you can write headcanons of anything, really, I just want to hold this man and be extremely and overly affectionate with him (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠) (and and jealousy trope is so aaaaaa you can write something with that, right??? :33)

William Afton/Steve Raglan Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Yeap, let's start with obsessive relationship stuff, and then I'll work on a request for jealous headcanons. Hope this is in character, I tried to make it as accurate as I could with what I could work with from the movie. Requests for the FNAF movie are still open if you want me to work on a scenario; just make sure its no smut and platonic or childhood sweethearts for any of the animatronics/missing children 🙃

🐰• Well, good luck getting out of whatever craziness you've somehow gotten yourself into. That's the first thing I'm gonna say ._.

🐰• You probably meet William as "Steve," the careers counsellor who asks a little too many personal questions for it to be strictly business-related, but then, he's got to know who you are to find a job that fits in with your life and personality. He seems normal enough, though there is a slight intensity in the way his eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and his questions become more specific and a bit non-contextual.

🐰• By the end of the interview, he offers you the place of a nightguard at Freddy's, giving you his card with a casual half-smile and going out of his way to show you the ropes. Then you start the job, as oddly unsettling and dark the environment seems, and you think that it's the last time you'll hear from him.

🐰• It's not 😏

🐰• Steve knows a lot about you from your files that he went through before, and from what you told him, and he's got a good memory. He copied all the information down, storing it safely at home, going through pictures and any sources he can find about you in some unplaced interest. William's very calm and calculated, and there's no way he'd be found out unless he let it happen or wanted you to find out for yourself.

🐰• So until he's ready to reveal his dark side completely, which will slip out in little actions and hints when you spend time with him, he's simply Steve Raglan, the relatively normal careers counsellor who keeps checking in on you to see how you're getting on with the job, often going out for a coffee to give you "advice" in his breaks. Anything to pry out more information from you, for him to understand what exactly it is about you that intrigues him.

🐰• Is it because you're unusually pretty? Clever? Quirky? To William, you're just a bit different, maybe a bit childish, or mature and deep, dark-humoured? Whatever it is, it caught his attention, which is a good thing, if you want it... and if it's not, well, you're stuck with it anyway.

🐰• You'll notice quite early on that he's a bit odd himself, maybe a bit invasive, possessive, especially for someone you haven't known for that long. If someone looks over at you for a second too long while you're having coffee with Steve, having a conversation that's veered off of references and employee skills to some personal aspect or interest in your life that he's cracked open. You'll see a shot of something dark pass through his blueish gaze before it passes almost as soon as it comes, and you'll know nothing more about it except never seeing that person again. Just another missing person to add to a list.

🐰• Same with if you happen to be seeing anyone; he's got his own ways to scare people off, and if that doesn't work, he'll be forced to do something a little messier. Again, you won't know a thing about it, and there'll be no proof, no body, no big questions. Suddenly your partner has run off on a job out of the country or broken up with you via text... and Steve will be around to "see how you're doing" and to pick up the pieces when you end up spilling more about what's been going on in your life and exposing more vulnerability. It gives William a rush, in a way, to be needed and ran to and relied on when something goes bad, especially if it's you looking up at him with big pleading eyes. He can only smile and squeeze your hand, not letting go for a long moment as you get yet another drink and finally end up getting somewhere closer to a proper relationship.

🐰• Friends start getting a little distant, past lovers end up disappearing and little conveniences in life become more frequent. Wonder why that is?

🐰• Afton has a great memory, and if you tell him you like something in particular, your favourite show or book, he finds the exact thing by chance in the shop and had to get it for you, just to see your eyes light up and smile thankfully. Or he recorded a new episode of your series for you to watch if you come over on one of the nights you're not working, or he's just finished reading that book, come round to his so you can talk about it some more? He always finds a way to get what he wants, and when it's a person, victim or not, the rule still applies.

🐰• You may not be a victim of violence or murder, but he's got an obsession, an unhealthy desire to watch everything you do, everyone you talk to and in your life. He doesn't name a specific reason for it, doesn't think he needs to, doesn't see the point in it. If you ever catch on to that kind of behaviour, he'll just give you a warm smirk and shrug. "Well, because it's you," is his casual response, though you could swear there's something more behind his eyes. "And I care about you, you know?"

🐰• This is still William Afton though, and for all he can be surprisingly romantic and thoughtful when he thinks to be to see your reaction, he's a sadistic murderer and kidnapper at the end of the day... and it does start to show through. He can be manipulative as we see in the movie, and a bit arrogant, though I don't think he'd outrightly manipulate you. It's more your surroundings and the people you're with. Maybe he'll dig up some dirt on one of your close friends and put it somewhere where you'll find it and cut off the friendship yourself, exactly how he wanted it. And on the occasions when he gets his hands dirty with those types of people, he will get his hands dirty, and enjoys every minute of it. He taunts and mocks them until their dying breath, hating the thought of someone else holding your attention for longer than he can, which only causes more blood to be washed out of clothes and off his skin before you notice.

🐰• I have the idea of William watching you sleep deep in for some reason, since he's affectionate in his own ways, not majorly into PDA or clingy, since he prefers you being the one to run to him. But in the moments when you're not aware that he's around, like when you're sleeping. He'll trace calloused but featherlight fingers across your face, down from your forehead to your cheek and your neck. There's a beat of tensity where you might think he's tempted to do something extreme, something violent, but it passes time and time again. I think the only time William would be tempted to be harsher and forceful is if and when you ever found out about what it is exactly he does, and try betraying him. He wouldn't kill you, nothing like that, but he'd have to lock you away someplace safer...

🐰• But Afton will cross that bridge when he comes to it. For now, it's just an attentive and dependent relationship that William will keep going for as long as he can, accepting any gesture of affection or admiration or any positive attention in general with open arms and a pleased smirk on his face. Life will be pretty easy for you, everything seeming to go your way, and his, he'll make sure of it. And when you finally uncover the truth behind Steve and meet the real William Afton, he'll expect things to stay exactly the same: bloodied hands, spring locks snapping, glowing grey animatronic eyes or not.

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kroosluvr · 21 days

Text

royal trio tennis au sketches and notes and stuff YAYYY YAY

EDIT ALSO I HOPE EVEYRONE LIKES THE SIGNATURES I CAME UP FOR THEM IN 2 SECONDS ON THE LAST SLIDE

(for clarification there r actually 2 persona tennis aus housed in my head

1) this one where royal trio are pro players striving to become intl stars

2) like a persona q3 thing where everyone plays team tennis @ their respective clubs/schools and its fun and awesome)

more notes under the cut

these r gonna be stream of consciousness bear w me ill keep it short bc imlazy

goro is born into the sport bc shido is like an intl tennis superstar but as with canon he dgaf about goro at all. his mom is dead too. etc. he probably never sees his dad except on tv and hes probably tossed around various boarding schools/tennis camps/etc so goro strives to become even BETTER of a player than his dad so 1) shido looks at him and acknowledges him and respects him 2) he can SURPASS him. thats his entire goal. anyway he prob shoulders huge expectations like oh thats ur dad so u must be a good player right and then those expectations he inflcits on himself.

sumire picks up tennis maybe around age 9-10 or so, when before that she did rhythmic gymnastics with kasumi. but even from an early age she was discontented by how Good kasumi was, almost intrinsically, and she had a gut feeling that made her switch tracks to tennis - also a sort of independent sport where SHE HERSELF can succeed on the court, without needing to depend on others. yet she still feels pressured by kasumi's success which gets in her way a lot. she feels determined to carve a name for herself bc THIS is the path she chose, so she better fucking make it count. those expectations on herself weigh heavily as well. in addition i think her parents literally dont gaf like if she becomes an intl superstar (not maliciously they just genuinely want sumire to be happy and dont demand success of her) but she kinda is like "wow they dont expect anything of me because im bad at it? then ill just have to become AMAZING so theyll have to be astounded" kinda thing

meanwhile akira was always a sporty/athletic kid, he doesnt have much attn from his parents so hes just doing whatever. soccer baseball basketball the works. but he picks up tennis at maybe age 13 and hes GOOD. so he immediately gets like scouted and Trained and he like improves in record time. hes real chill and relaxed about it though because he never Needed tennis the way sumire and goro do. hes just out here for fun and games literally. if he wins he wins - but the thing is, akira kurusu hates losing. thats the thing that propels him to the top.

shujin academy is still the same private school we know but they also house a tennis academy known as the shujin tennis academy yeah yeahyaeeayhah and they just train the coolest of players and the royal trio r their pride and joy etc

cont'd here

#cele draws #cele talks #(bc i do talk a lot here. damn)#royal trio #akira kurusu #goro akechi #sumire yoshizawa #persona tennis au #persona 5 royal #p5r

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kremlin · 3 months

Text

@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

#posts i will be deleting

443 notes · View notes

makeitmingi · 9 months

Text

And They Called It Puppy Love

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yunho

Summary: Despite your worries and concerns about your relationship, your golden retriever boyfriend Yunho never lets you stray too far. He's always right behind you, making sure he's always there for you with whatever you need. No, it's not just puppy love.

Word count: 4.2K

[A/N: Reader is a little insecure in this...]

The moment you class ended and you stepped out of the lecture hall, your phone rang. You looked down at the screen to see the caller ID, a small smile making its way to your face.

'Yuyu 🐾'

"How coincidental is it that you're calling just as I am stepping out of my lecture hall?" You laughed as you pressed the phone to your ear. Not wanting to have the conversation with other people around, you found a more quiet place to talk.

"Not a coincidence at all when I know your class schedule. How has your morning been? Sorry I didn't get to send you to uni today, I had to rush in for an early meeting at the office."

You could practically hear the disappointed pout in his voice but were touched by his intentions.

"No need to apologise, Yuyu. I wouldn't want you to be late because of me. Morning has been okay. How about you?" You asked.

"Same old same old. I can't wait to see you later today, tiny."

"Me too. It's been a long week and it would be nice to just relax with you." You sighed happily just at the thought. Even though you didn't live with Yunho, you did stay over at his place every Friday.

"Mmm, I'll leave you to go have your lunch. Make sure you eat a lot, tiny. Studying is important but eating and taking care of your health is more important!"

"I will, Yuyu. Have a nice day. I'll see you later." You giggled. Yunho was someone that took food and eating very seriously. He loved food and was a huge foodie. You remember being shocked by the amount of food he could eat. But being a foodie boyfriend also meant that he always made sure you were fed.

"Yes, you will. I love you, tiny."

"I love you too." You hummed and hung up. After that, you went to find your friends at one of the cafeterias on campus. You greeted them as you sat down.

"I guess I saw it coming. He started acting different and stuff." One of your friends lamented. She had just gone through a break up, ending a short but seemingly sweet relationship of 6 months.

"He probably just had puppy love." Another one pointed out.

"Puppy love?" You tilted your head.

"Mhmm. You know like just those crushes you used to get as a kid. They do everything to make you happy and impress you then once the puppy love dies, so does your relationship." She explained.

"That's probably why your relationship only lasted for 6 months." One added, making your other friends nod in agreement.

"Oh... I get it." You nodded your head, eating a bite of your food. That was when all the heads at the table turned to you. You blinked in confusion.

"(y/n), you've been in a relationship with Yunho for 8 months... Does he still act the same way as he did when you first started dating?" They asked. You thought about it for a while, thinking back to the moment when you and Yunho started dating.

"He's not as shy as he used to be? Other than that, he's still the same Jeong Yunho. He hasn't changed much in the last 8 months that we've been together." You shrugged.

"Ah, it's different with him. He's one of those golden retriever boyfriends. They're active with everyone they meet." One scoffed.

"Literal puppy love?" One teased.

"He chased you for a while, (y/n). There's nothing to worry about." One of them must have noticed the grim expression on your face and squeezed your shoulder.

Despite her comforting words of encouragement, you stared at your wallpaper of you and Yunho, slight worry settling in your heart. What if Yunho's puppy love for you just died down one day?

"We're kidding, (y/n). Really." The one who started this assured.

"Look at you and Yunho. You're couple goals, you both set the standard so high." They tried convincing you.

You wanted to correct them. You didn't set the bar high, Yunho did. They knew the lengths that Yunho went to, to do things that made you happy. Now that you think about it, you didn't do much for him. The excuse was that Yunho didn't let you do much because he was always one step ahead of you.

The only thing you did was cook for him because he wasn't very good at cooking.

"My love language is food!"

That was one of the first things Yunho told you, he loved it when you cooked for him. Other than that, Yunho mainly did a lot of things for you. He never really let you or liked you doing things for him.

Throughout the rest of the day, you tried to push aside that unnerving feeling that settled in your stomach and distract yourself with your classes.

'I got pork cutlet for lunch! San brought us to a new place. We'll come here next time! - Yuyu 🐾'

*Yuyu 🐾 sent 1 photo attachment*

Every time your phone lit up and you saw Yunho's smiling face or a message from him, it just reminded you of it again. You knew you were just overthinking now. With a sigh, you put your phone into your bag and focused on your notes.

"Hmm..." Yunho frowned with a tilt of his head as he stared intently a this phone screen.

"What's wrong, Yunho?" San, who was sitting across him and noticed the look on his face, asked. Yeosang, who was focused on his food also looked up.

"She read my text but didn't reply again..." Yunho said, looking at the 5th message that you left him on read.

"Maybe she's busy, hyung. She is in class after all." Jongho pointed out with his chopstick.

"No... If she's busy and can't reply, she will just not open the message. She only reads it if she knows she can reply." Yunho explained, he knew you and your habits well enough.

"Well, did she seem different when you called her earlier? Or was she acting weird, out of the ordinary?" Seonghwa asked. Yunho didn't answer, thinking about the phone call conversation that he had with you. The conversation wasn't long but you didn't sound upset or different to him.

"No. She was fine. We even talked about our plans for tonight and she seemed excited." Yunho blinked.

"Is that important?" He followed up with a question.

"You know the whole thing with relationships passing the 'honeymoon phase'... When the initial puppy love goes away, relationship dynamics change." Wooyoung shrugged.

"Yah, Wooyoung ah. Don't put such thoughts in his head. I'm sure that's not happening, Yunho." Hongjoong scolded Wooyoung and assured Yunho.

"No... It's okay. My relationship with (y/n) is definitely still going strong. We love each other a lot." Yunho said confidently.

"I can atest to that. All the phone calls and texting between the two of them... yuck." Jongho cringed.

"It's called love, Jongho. When you fall in love, you'll be the same too." San slung his arm around the younger's neck. Jongho gave the older a flat look, jabbing his side until San let go of him.

"I'm sure (y/n) still loves you and appreciates everything you do for her." Mingi patted Yunho's shoulder. They did think that Yunho was always doing too much but at the same time, that was how Yunho showed you he loved you, through acts of service.

"Maybe I'll get her some flowers later when I pick her up from university, to cheer her up if she's upset." Yunho decided.

"Or maybe she's not upset and just busy with university classes." Yeosang said with a shrug.

"Whether she is upset or not, I can still buy her flowers. I don't need a reason to buy my girlfriend flowers." Yunho said, already making a mental note to drop by the florist later.

"You're such a good boyfriend, Yuyu ah." Wooyoung leaned his head on his hand with a sweet smile, making Yunho blush.

"Only (y/n) calls him yuyu now." Mingi nudged the smaller male.

"Why? It's cute, I like it." Wooyoung protested.

"Exactly because (y/n) is cute when calling him that, that's why he only lets her call him that. And she lets him call her 'tiny' in return." Hongjoong reasoned.

"Ah, stop." Yunho covered his cheeks with a shake of his head, having enough of his friends teasing him. 'Yuyu' and 'tiny' are exclusive nicknames that you and Yunho have for each other. It sounded normal when you two used them but hearing others say it made Yunho feel shy.

"Okay, let's stop teasing Yunho. We need to finish up our food and get back to work." Seonghwa said. Yunho let out a sigh of relief, grateful to Seonghwa for stepping in.

But the thought lingered in Yunho's head, was he overbearing and driving you away? Were you starting to lose feelings for him?

Finally, university was done for the day and the week. You let out a tired sigh as you walked towards the campus exit. It was time to enjoy the weekend.

"Tiny!" Yunho jogged over to you before you could reach the exit. You couldn't help but smile as you saw his face.

"Yuyu." You greeted him back as he hugged you tightly, leaning over your small frame. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him.

"You've worked hard. Good job." He patted your back.

"Thank you. You too." You replied. When he pulled away, he held out a bouquet of flowers to you. People passing by stared at the two of you, thinking Yunho was handsome and sweet for giving you flowers. You softened, not expecting flowers from him.

"What's this for? I didn't forget a special day, did I?" You asked with a giggle as you received the bouquet. There was a card but you decided to read that later.

"I just felt like buying you flowers." He smiled, stroking your cheek.

"Well, they're lovely. It's a nice surprise. Thank you, Yuyu." You tiptoed to kiss his cheek. He blushed but the bright smile never left his face.

"Let's go." He held your hand. The two of you walked to where Yunho's car was parked. He opened the door for you to slide into the passenger seat.

"I'll put your bag in the back." He offered.

"Thanks. I'll hold onto these." You grinned, holding the bouquet in your lap. Yunho chuckled but nodded, putting your binder and bag into the backseat before running to the driver's side.

"Oh yeah, I got you this too. But I think the ice has melted." He scratched his head in embarrassment as he pointed to the cups in the cup holder. It was your favourite mixed fruit soda from a cafe you and Yunho frequent. They were the only one that had your favourite fruit combination.

"You drove all the way to get it?"

"I thought you might like it. I know you've been having a tiring week." Yunho turned to you.

"Thank you, Yuyu. Really. But seeing you and being with you is more than enough to make me feel better." You smiled up at him. Yunho cupped your cheek and gave you a sweet kiss.

"So where are we going now?" You asked.

"Would you like to order in or cook? If we're cooking, we can go get ingredients. My fridge is empty." Yunho informed.

"Let's cook then." You said. Yunho began driving. He had this habit, one hand would be on the wheel and the other hand would be on you either holding your hand or on your thigh.

It was nothing suggestive, purely innocent. Yunho just wanted to always be in contact with you.

"What would you like to eat tonight?" You asked as Yunho pulled into the parking space of the grocery store. He tapped his chin, thinking about his food craving. Yunho liked a lot of foods but he tried to think of easy food so you wouldn't be too tired after cooking.

"What about kimchi fried rice?" He suggested. Your face fell at the simple suggestion. Yunho always liked you cooking different dishes for him. Why was he suggesting a dish even he could make?

"I can cook something else..." You mumbled.

"Sure. Why don't you decide, tiny? I'll eat anything you cook." He kissed the back of your hand.

"Alright." You walked with him, thinking about dishes. Yunho excitedly ran to get a cart from the side. You were about to start walking in first when he called out to you.

"Wait for me, tiny!" He caught up, laughing. He grasped your hand and you smiled softly, walking beside him.

You decided to cook some of Yunho's favourite dishes, crispy pork belly, fresh kimchi (geotjori), garlic rice and marinated strawberries for dessert.

"From the ingredients, I'm excited to see what you cook." Yunho smiled, helping you reach over the counter to receive the meat from the butcher. If he got the hint or realised that you were just cooking his favourites, he never gave it away. You continued pushing the cart while Yunho momentarily stepped away.

"I need my essentials. Plus, we need movie snacks, right?" He dropped the ramen packs and snacks into the cart. You laughed as you looked what he got.

"You forgot your turtle chips." You pointed out.

"Oh, right! Thanks, tiny." He ran back to the chip aisle. You went to the fresh fruit section to grab whatever else you needed.

"Strawberries?!" His eyes lit up at the sight of you putting the punnets into the cart.

"I'll make the marinated strawberries you like." You smiled.

"Then we need ice cream! Be right back!" And he ran off just like that, making you laugh. Yunho always got so excited when food was the topic of discussion.

"Let me do it." He helped you load the items onto the conveyor belt for the cashier. Even after everything was bagged up, Yunho did most of the heavy lifting. He only let you carry the eggs.

When you arrived at Yunho's home, he immediately ran to get you your home slippers. He even slid them onto your feet for you.

"Thanks, Yuyu." You shuffled to his kitchen and put the groceries away. You've been over so many times that you just knew where everything was. Yunho's house wasn't big but it was comfortable for the two of you.

"Let me clean up a little. Be right back." He grabbed a trash bag and went to his study where he usually worked and gamed. You started on dinner since the pork needed a while to bake.

"Tiny, you forgot your apron." Yunho smiled softly, grabbing the apron off the hook.

"Arms up." He said as he carefully slipped the fabric over your head and reached around you to tie is securely. But he didn't let go, letting his arms stay around your waist.

"What's wrong?" You tilted your head as you looked up at him.

"Nothing. I just like looking at you... Can I kiss you?" He asked. You burst out laughing.

"You don't have to ask." You scoffed. Yunho grinned and leaned down to give you a kiss. He didn't pull away entirely, moving just so he could lean down to bury his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed as his hair tickled your skin. His arms tightened around your waist slightly.

"Yuyu, you have to let me go if you want dinner." You chuckled.

"I'd rather starve then." He protested.

"Why don't you help me?" You offered. At the thought of helping you, Yunho nodded excitedly. Suddenly, he ran back into his study and came back out with an item.

"I've been waiting for this. I finally get to use the new apron I bought. See?" He unwrapped it to show you proudly.

"It's very nice, Yuyu."

"Isn't it?! I bought it to match you." He beamed, slipping it over his head. But before he could tie it, you stepped forward to tie it for him, just like he always does with you.

"Tell me what to do chef!" He saluted. Although Yunho wasn't the best cook, he tried his best. And just being with him made everything feel fun. It wasn't tiring or lonely, it felt like time stood still and it was just you and him existing together in your own world.

"Hmmm..." Yunho watched you tasted the strawberries and the marinade that they were going to sit in. He didn't even know that he was staring at you with a smile on his face.

"Wae?" You blinked when you noticed him staring at you. He shook his head with a hum.

"Want a taste?" You held out a strawberry piece on a spoon. Yunho gladly leaned in to take a bite with you cupping your hand at the bottom to catch any drips.

"How is it?" You looked at him expectantly.

"Amazing." Yunho gave a thumbs up. Everything you made, Yunho thought was amazing.

"They'll taste better after they sit for a while. Could you wrap the bowl up for me, please?" You requested. He took the bowl and covered it with plastic wrap to put into his fridge.

Yunho loved these moments with you, just you and him in your own space. The little noises you made or random humming as you moved about, the way you would scrunch your nose when you were disatisfied with the taste, the way your lips would curl to the side when you were thinking.

"Careful, Yuyu." You cautioned as you took the sizzling pork out. And placed it on a trivet.

"You be careful, tiny. That oil is scary." Yunho said back to you but kind of dodged at the end of the counter, the splattering oil freaking him out a little.

"Do you want to help me cut it?" You asked, taking out the tongs and the knife.

"But I don't want to do it wrong." Yunho pouted.

"There's no wrong way, Yunho. Don't worry, we're the only ones eating it anyway." You chuckled. Yunho took the knife and tongs from you but you stood beside him to guide him.

"Tell me if I'm doing a bad job, okay?" He mumbled as he held the pork down with the tongs and began to slice with the knife.

"You're doing great, Yuyu." You smiled. Yunho was literally perfect, there was no way that he would do a bad job of anything, that's why you tried to at least get to half his level. After cutting the meat, he helped you put them on the serving dish.

"Can I have a kiss as a reward for doing a good job?" He asked. You rolled your eyes but of course you complied, never getting tired of his kisses and affection.

"Let's eat." You scooped the rice into two bowls while Yunho placed the geotjori and accompaniments on the table.

"Wow, tiny. You've out done yourself yet again. You never fail to amaze me with what you do." He reached out to hold your hand.

"W-What are you talking about?" You scoffed shyly.

You and Yunho started eating. Honestly, only after meeting Yunho, then you knew why parents felt full just by watching their children eat. Watching Yunho eat and enjoy food made you feel full.

"So good." Yunho smiled with his full cheeks of food. You laughed, reaching out to wipe the sauce that got on his lip.

"I'm glad you like it." You ate a bite of your food.

"Like it? I love it. I love anything you cook." He melted. You shot him a weird look but you couldn't help the smile on your face. Yunho always knew what to say and how to act around you, he just knew you well. You loved the way he never shied away from expressing his happiness and love.

"Don't forget, there's still dessert later." You reminded.

"There's no way I would forget. Don't worry, I'll finish everything. There's no such thing as waste here." Yunho said proudly. He took some geotjori and placed it onto your rice.

"You're so worried whether I have enough to eat that you're not eating." Yunho pouted.

"I am~" You whined. Yunho held a bite out to you, wanting to feed you. Your pursed your lips shut, knowing he was doing this to deliberately tease you.

"Come on, be good tiny. Ah~" He cooed.

"Yunho... Stop..." You felt your cheeks heat up as he continued to make baby sounds

"Ah~" He coaxed. You knew that he wasn't going to give up so you opened your mouth to take a bite, chewing begrudgingly. Yunho burst out laughing at the stink eye you were shooting him.

"Aigoo, my tiny eats so well." Yunho pinched your cheek, shaking your head slightly as he cooed at you. You squinted your eyes at him while he patted your head. He still had that big grin on his face while you finished up your dinner.

While Yunho did the dishes, you took a quick shower and finished up the dessert, putting the ice cream and strawberries into bowls for you and Yunho.

"This is the best." Yunho said, taking a bite. The both of you sat on the couch, with you tucked under Yunho's arm securely. There was a movie playing but you and Yunho weren't paying attention.

"Thank you for cooking, baby. I don't know how I survived before meeting you 8 months ago." Yunho kissed the top of your head.

8 months ago... "They do everything to make you happy and impress you then once the puppy love dies, so does your relationship." Your friend's words rang in your ears.

"Tiny?" Yunho noticed how stiff you got. But you spaced out, so deep in your thoughts as tears flooded your vision.

"Tiny!" Yunho saw the first tear spill and put his bowl aside.

"(y/n), what's wrong?!" He panicked, turning you around to face him entirely. He took your bowl from your hands to put it on the coffee table and practically carried you onto his lap, letting your legs drape over his own thighs. As he hands came up to cup your cheeks, he searched your eyes worriedly.

"You're scaring me, tiny..." Yunho whispered. But you just couldn't stop the tears from continuously falling down your cheeks as soft sobs escaped you.

"Hug me?" You croaked. He didn't even hesitate, holding you against his chest.

"Shh, tiny..." Yunho stroked the back of your head as you cried .

"Please don't leave me... I promise I'll try harder." You cried, bunching the materials of his shirt in your fists, as if he was going to walk away from you right this instance.

"Leave you? Baby, why would I leave you?!" Yunho held your shoulders, he couldn't hide the shock he felt from your words.

"I'm worried you'd get sick of me after we've been together for a while." You sniffled.

"Wait, the boys were talking about this earlier. 'Honeymoon phase' and 'puppy love'. Is that what you're worried about?" Yunho clarified. You nodded in your head in confirmation. Yunho could held but soften, leaning forward to give you a lingering kiss.

"Tiny, you don't have to worri about that. With me, the only puppy love you're getting is me being a literal golden retriever and following you everywhere." Yunho rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

"It's just... you do everything for me. And I barely do anything for you. Won't you get tired of doing that?"

"I do those things for you because I want to do them. It's one of the ways I show you I love you. Plus, you cook for me and in my book, that surpasses everything else." Yunho scoffed.

"Honestly, I was worried I was being overbearing. And that I should give you more space." He confessed.

"Yuyu... never. You're never overbearing. I love you and appreciate everything you do for me. I don't want space, I don't want to be anymore further from you than I already am." You held his hand.

"I'm glad to hear that. Because I feel the same." Yunho lifted you up in his arms.

"Yunho!" You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He walked into his room and put you on his bed, crawling into the space beside you. He held you close, his much larger frame enveloping your smaller one as your limbs tangled themselves together. Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose against your cheek.

"You're never too much. I'll gladly do anything for you like froth your milk for your lattes in the morning." Yunho chuckled.

"You just like playing with my automated frother..." You rolled your eyes.

You remembered when you showed Yunho the electric whisk. He was so excited and that ended up with you have so much milk foam in your coffee.

"True." He grinned.

"But i'm seriously, I'll always be right there beside you, okay? I'll come whenever you call, whenever you need me. I'm there." He stared into your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Me too." You placed your hand on his cheek as he smiled sweetly. He chuckled, peppering your face in kisses, making you scrunch your nose.

"You're stuck with me. I'm not gonna let you go so easily." He hugged you to emphasise his point.

"I'm very okay with that." You giggled.

"Good. Because you don't have a choice." He laughed.

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creative-caramel-coffee · 11 months

Text

Pesky Period Pains

Prompt: Cramping Pain

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: you had managed to stave off periods but you could only do that for so long. But its very hard to hide things in the compound especially from your girlfriends.

TW: pain medicine, blood, period, cramps, bleeding on the bed (idk if that a warning or not lol), non-sexual nudity, Reader has their clothes removed (not in a bad way though don’t worry … you’ll see), hiding injuries / sickness, slight angst,

A/n whats this? A fic without vomiting for once? Crazy.

Curled up in bed the day had been going well until you realised you took to long to get more of your birth control. Your doctor had put you on birth control in your early teens before you became and avenger, your cramps being too painful for you to function and resulting in you missing a-lot of school. But you ran out last week and your ADHD had been kicking your ass lately so you forgot about the much needed trip to the chemist. Thinking you could just go tomorrow as its not like your period would appear over night. wrong.

Nat and Wanda were training in the gym like they did every Tuesday while you slept in. But when you realised with the first pang of pain in your midsection that it was a little too late for the birth control to stave off the period pains, you groaned. stuffing your face back into your pillow, before swallowing the urge to scream in frustration. you got up and threw on a pad before getting dressed quickly. you were craving chocolate. you could survive the cramps until after breakfast, and you couldn’t take painkillers on an empty stomach.

you had just finished drowning your pancakes in chocolate syrup and were not throwing back the tablets and some water when your girlfriends arrived. Nat smiled widely and came over to kiss you and hug you. “Detka,” you groaned, “your all gross and sweaty.” nat squeezed you in the hug chuckling before planting a kiss on your forehead. Wanda didn’t seem as happy. she sensed your discomfort before she even made it into the door. to be honest she sensed it from the gym, feigning exhaustion in favour of ending training early to check on you.

“what were you doing before we got here?” Wanda asked, hands crossed over her chest.

“making pancakes.” you shrugged, hiding a grimace as it jostled your midsection.

“i saw you put something in your mouth, Y/n don’t lie to me.” she was more concerned than angry but it did come across that way to you.

“i. was. eating. my. pancakes. Wanda.” you grit out, glad it seemed more like annoyance than the fact another cramp had hir rather hard.

“whatever.” Wanda dismissed angrily walking to get herself some pancakes. Nat frowned, normally Wanda was really sweet with you, only ever stern if you were being stubborn. she shrugged at you and followed Wanda to get some breakfast, only having had her pre workout shake so far. you didn’t wait for them, quickly finishing your pancakes and going to take a shower.

the girls frowned at your empty place when they returned and Wanda sighed. “somethings up with her nat i can sense it.”

meanwhile you stepped under the warm water, watching the red circle the drain and letting the heat relax your muscles. when another cramp hit you rested your head on your arm which steadied you against the wall. you didn’t want to risk leaving blood in your shared bathroom knowing nat was see it with her spy training, she noticed everything. Wanda would just freakout if she knew you were bleeding but didn’t know where from. And most importantly you didn’t want to bother them with your problems, feeling you were being a bit too needy lately having been sick the week before last.

you had come back to your old room, the one you stayed in before moving it with your girls. it was still your space. your gaming computer was still here, your switch and all your drawing stuff and tablet. your posters of Percy Jackson and your girlfriends still adorned the walls and the rainbow lights still worked above your desk. the bed had black sheets and you even still had some of your clothes in here. your many sketchbooks sat on the floating shelf by the desk and your blue couch and fluffy red blanket were still in the corner. the 84inch tv, courtesy of tony was mounted on the wall opposite the bed and you had painted a mural of the city scape on the far wall. it was as much your home as the room across the hall. your girls often found you in here during the day either drawing or gaming.

but you hadnt showered in here since moving to sleep over the hall. nat heard the running water as she went past, assuming you had done it so she could shower after her training this morning, she shrugged it off. unusual but not insane.

once you turned the water off you carefully towel dried yourself trying to avoid getting blood on the fluffy towel. getting dressed in fluffy pants and your oversized red hoodie nat had bought you at Disneyland, the one with the big picture of Mickey mouse on the front, you went and laid on the bed. after mindlessly scrolling through Netflix and putting on a random movie you snuggled up. after a few minutes the exhaustion of your body rebuilding an organ wiped you out and you fell asleep.

Wanda carefully opened the door to your room. frowning at yhe sight of you curled up asleep in the middle of the day. this was unlike you. the tv had an action movie playing and the sound of gunfire should have woken you up, but you slept on. Wanda turned out the lights and muted the tv before going to talk to nat.

“I’m telling you nat something’s off, shes been acting weird all day.”

“I’m sure shes fine, shes a big girl wands.” nat sighed drying her hair with a towel.

“i don’t know, you know how it is when shes hurt, she wont tell us even if shes bleeding out on the floor.” Wanda huffed pacing and running her hands through her hair.

“why don’t we go cuddle up to her in bed and we’ll talk to her when shes up again?”

“ok” Wanda sighed in defeat.

after carefully lifting the sheets and sliding in either-side of you nat took the tv remote frowning at the cheesy action movie.

“you cant even shoot arrows like that in real life.” she grumbled putting on something that Wanda would like. a sit com.

still asleep you curled up around Wanda’s leg as she lent against the headboard and ran her hands through your hair.

“she looks so fragile when she sleeps natty.” Wanda cooed

“thats because its hard to be a cocky asshole when your sleeping.” nat teased. but it wasn’t fun without your sharp come backs to quip against her.

“naaattt leave her alone shes cute when she sleeps.” looking down at you she noticed a grimace on your face when you held onto her leg tighter. thinking you were having a nightmare she went to wake you. unbeknownst to her it was just the medicine having worn off and the painfully cramps coming back full force. before Wanda could gently wake you, you shot up, blinking rapidly before feeling the wetness of the bed and shooting off the bathroom to change clothes. Wanda and nat frowned at each-other, you hadn’t even noticed them. nat hopped up and knocked on the door.

“y/n/n? can i come in?” she asked. you froze. what were they doing here.

“Y/n/n?” nat asked again.

“natty… um you should come here.” Wanda quietly said from the bed. she had pulled back the sheets to find a wet bloodstain on the sheets. Nat’s eyes widened almost comically.

“y/n let us in right now.” she banged her fists on the door. just as she swung to knock the door down you opened it, her foot stopping mid air as she tried not to kick you or fall over. at the sight of your bloody clothes she jumped into action. extending your arms with her hands she searched your body before stopping and looking you dead in the eyes.

“strip.” she said. you balked.

“what?”

“you heard me. strip. or i’ll have Wanda use her wiggly woos to do it for me.”

“natty-“

“No.”

“wands-“

“I’m with nat on this one sweetheart. we need to know your ok.” Wanda cooed softly having walked in behind nat.

“I’m fi-“

“if you were going to say your fine we found your blood on the sheets. so we know your not.”

before you were able to reply you were hit with a rather painful cramp that made you double over in an attempt to stop the pain. you groaned loudly and both your girls sprung into action. they knew you didn’t get periods so that couldn’t be it. but the last mission was weeks ago and you hadn’t left the compound without them since. so how did you get hurt? Nat was at your side in an instance. “y/n/n baby where does it hurt?” she ran a hand down your back up and down your spine. you merely groaned in response still hunched over.

“wands I’m gonna need you to-“

“don’t worry it got it.” she replied. before you could think you felt the cold air hit as you were suddenly without clothes. Nat’s eyes grew wide as she saw the red between your legs. you felt tears slide down your cheeks as the girls understood. they had seen you naked before so it didn’t bother you plus you knew you were safe with your girlfriends.

“oh sweetheart.” Wanda cooed, picking you up. “did you get your period love?”

more tears fell as she carried you bridal style to the bath. with a wave of her wrist there was warm water in the tub and her clothes were also gone. gently she hopped in placing you curled up in her lap. nat removed her clothes to show toned muscle and slipped in beside her. it was a big tub, tony was not one to spare expenses much to peppers dismay when she first brought home Morgan to find a car already with custom plates with Morgan’s name on it in the garage.

“tony what the hell is this?” she had asked pointing to the car, Morgan’s carseat in her hand.

“well its called planning my dear wife.”

“planning is writing it out on paper not buying it 16 years early.”

Wanda chuckled at the memory before focusing back on your. she carded a hand though your hair and you whined softly.

“gonna made the water dirty.” you whined “and i ruined my hoodie.” you sniffled “the one you and natty bought me from disneyland.” you cried. nat rubbed a circle on your back knowing this was the work of pesky hormones but doing nothing to invalidate your feelings. Wanda smiled down at you.

“why are you smiling.” you sobbed.

“oh sweetheart do you forget i have magic sometimes.” Wanda cooed

“oh.” you hiccuped.

“its already clean and folded on the bed which has fresh sheets.” she started kissing you all over your face, tasting the salty tears. “and natty and I will buy you ten more if we need to. anything for our sweet girl.”

“even the goofy one?” you smiled looking up with teary eyes.

nat chuckled. they were so whipped for you. “anything you can ever dream of of my love.” nat cooed. “and whatever we can buy with the new black master-card i have from tony.”

“how-“ you were going to ask how but another cramp hit and tears flooded your eyes as blood swirled in the bathwater.

“oh sweetheart don’t cry.” Wanda cooed seeing the water was making you upset she waved her hand and the blood disappeared from the water.

“honey i wouldn’t care if the bath was 100% blood as long as your ok. i would do anything for you.”

“we.” nat corrected “we would do anything for you.” Wanda rubbed circles over your stomach and her fingers glowed a soft red hue in the bath water as she took away some of the pain for you. you sighed in relief at her magic touch.

“and to answer your question, all it took was a little blackmail.” you laughed at her smirk.

“come one love lets get you washed up.”

when Wanda had finished scrubbing your body clean for you, you were too tired to do it yourself. nat dried you with a towel and slipped you back into your comfy and now, thanks to Wanda, clean clothes.

curling up in bed with nat, Wanda returned with food for all of you and a mountain of all different kinds of chocolate and popcorn.

“I vote we have a movie day today.” Wanda proposed. nat smiled at you and brushed the hair from your face, “id love that” she agreed “ what about you Y/n/n?”

“only if i get lots of hugs.” you mumbled in an embarrassed way that made the redheads hearts skip a beat.

“alright then.” wand climbed in beside you and put down the tray of food. “you get first pick Y/n/n” Wanda grinned and nat passed you the remote.

“here you go” you took it and placed a chocolate in your mouth. going to reach for another Wanda lightly slapped your hand away.

“food first.” she chided softly. you pouted and picked a movie. after the first 20 minutes or so you hd finished lunch and were happily curled in the arms of your girls munching chocolate. maybe you should get your period more often you thought. then another cramp hit making you keen softly. never-mind you thought. Wanda ran her magic fingers over you lower back and the pain stopped. you knew then and there your girls would always be there. you were never going to be alone again.

MASTERLIST

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lucrativesoul · 11 months

Text

one of my favorite headcanon tropes is roommate!leon. friends to lovers brainrot anyone?

Leon would start out reserved until you two became comfortable with each other. He’s normally quiet anyway, as you have come to learn, but you also learned that comfortable meant him not being afraid to sit a little too close to you just because it’s cozy for him.

Food is his comfort item. This was discovered very fast. (“Leon, I just bought this whole box of cheez-its two days ago. I didn’t even have any!” “Leon, those were my gummy worms. I would have bought you some.” Once you learned to accommodate his black hole stomach, you found it oddly fun to cook for him, he was always looking to try new recipes.)

He would become overly friendly and caring when he wants something from you. 9 times out of 10, it was because he was hungry. (The one time was when he just wanted company late at night and couldn’t sleep.)

He would always have the courtesy to ask you if something he is doing would bother you, even if it is something you barely even noticed. (“Is my music too loud?” “Should I move my stuff off the table?”)

Leon would slowly start learning your every day routine. What you did on early mornings, how you set up meals around a work or class schedule, and what time you tend to go to bed. He found himself adapting his own around yours, keeping peaceful company unless you were in your room, door closed.

Sometimes, Leon would come home late from work. He tried as best as he could to be quiet so you could stay asleep, but he would always walk into something. It would prompt you to then walk out of your room and just stare at him. (“Leon, really?” “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how the kitchen table got right there.” You were already awake and waiting for him to come home, but you liked seeing him stumble over himself to apologize to you.)

Once Leon had gotten word that he would be going on prolonged work missions, you could see he was guilty about leaving you alone. You comforted him as best you could, but you were often lonely without his presence. You did lots of cat ownership contemplating during those times.

While he was mostly a heavy sleeper, and could fall asleep anywhere, there were times you would wake up to noise in the kitchen. You would investigate to find him rummaging through the cabinets, looking for snacks. (“I thought you said you bought more cheez-its.” “I did, Leon. You ate them.” “Oh.” “Come on, there’s some in my room. I was hiding them from you, but you can take them.”)

Leon’s love language was very much quality time. You knew his job was stressful, and your schedule was often not fixed, so on the nights you were both home, he wanted to be in your presence, whether it be watching something together, or doing your own thing in the same room. He didn’t want those nights to end, because it always meant you had to go back to your own room. (You didn’t want these nights to end, and you wish Leon would just tell you that you can fall asleep in his room.)

No matter what the temperature is in the house, it seems like it never bothers him, or rather that he gets hot way too fast. This man is seen more often without a shirt than with one, not that it was totally a nuisance to you. You knew he was more observant than he led on to be, so you only let yourself look at his body when he is turned around. (“Leon, I’m in a sweatshirt, and you are half naked. Clearly one of us is wrong about the temperature here.” “Well, it’s not me.”)

Leon grew on you really fast. You knew you made a good choice in roommates after the first time Leon detected your bad mood and did whatever he could to make you happy. (“Gummy worms? Thanks, Leon. I’m surprised you didn’t eat these already.” “I was definitely going to. But you need them more than me.” He definitely snuck a few while you ate them.)

a/n: today is my birthday! take these little headcanons that I'm always thinking about while I finish the other fic and start some more :) does anyone else need a friends to lovers roommates au now... (cause i do) (thank you again for the support on my first fic. the pressure to please is high but i’m excited for my next fics!)

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy fanfiction #headcanons #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x gn reader #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4

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mcflymemes · 25 days

Text

DUNE (2021) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary. suggested by lalamoon

it's good you're up early.

why do we have to go through all this, when it's already been decided?

if you want it, make me give it to you.

you look tired. more dreams?

there is no call we do not answer.

you put on muscle!

i would like you to take me with you.

can i trust you with something?

so you dreamed about stuff we all know about.

i dreamt about you.

i saw you lying dead, fallen in battle.

dreams make good stories, but everything important happens while we're awake.

i wish we could bring them all with us.

you don't think we'll ever come back?

i understand your impatience.

great leaders are raised in the mud, not around tables.

don't throw my words back at me.

i told my father i didn't want this either.

a good man doesn't seek to lead. he's called to it, and he answers.

i found my own way to it. you might find yours.

we have to be ready for anything.

don't stand with your back to the door.

i guess i'm not in the mood today.

you fight when the necessity arises, no matter your mood.

i have you.

will it be that bad?

you don't really understand the grave nature of what's happening to us.

the last of our ships have left.

to break a virtuous man, give him a burden too heavy to bear. a lesser man would drop it, but a good man will carry it 'til it crushes him.

get dressed and come with me.

what's in the box?

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer.

an animal caught in a trap will gnaw off its own leg to escape.

i will face my fear.

tell me about these dreams.

do you dream things that happen just as your dreamed them?

i could have died.

how does it feel to walk on another world?

how are you, old friend?

they were pointing at us. what are they shouting?

let's get you out of the sun.

if you mean to harm me, i warn you. whatever you're hiding won't be enough.

treat them well. these are friends.

i have so much to tell you.

that is all i have to say to you.

wait 'til you see. it's beautiful out there.

you're out of your mind! we're not going out there!

i knew you couldn't stay the hell away.

legend is a pretty word for a lie.

i think you're afraid it might be true.

how can i make my way if my destiny was written before i was born?

you have to sleep.

why not just cut their throats?

don't you dare touch my mother!

it's not safe for you here.

you're not coming with us?

one move and you die.

i would not have let you hurt my friends.

you chose the hardest way up.

i will not have them.

this will be an honor for you to die holding it.

this world will kill you.

do you yield?

this is only the beginning.

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genericpuff · 1 month

Note

I've been seeing you say/speculate Rachel Smythe has been cut loose from webtoon, could you elaborate what you mean by that?

It's only a tinfoil hat theory that people should take with MOUNTAINS of salt (seriously, I'm more likely to believe that Rachel really is just done with LO), but there's a general suspicion that LO wasn't meant to end here and that Webtoons decided to cut the cord. I've made a post about it before but some new stuff has surfaced since then.

1.) The announcement the series was ending was made quietly at NYCC and not shared to either Webtoons' socials or Rachel's socials.

The only way fans initially knew about the series ending was through a screencap from the Discord where someone else who had been attending NYCC passed on the info from a Q&A that LO would be entering its final arc.

For a good while the only other way to know the series was ending was through the Discord, a Cosmopolitan article, and my own post.

Though it sounds odd for a series to get cancelled halfway through its third season, it's not uncommon for Webtoons to suddenly axe series while they're on their midseason hiatuses, it's happened before. So there's a general suspicion that Rachel may have found out during NYCC that LO would only be given one more arc.

2.) The actual finale announcement was made in a text post on Instagram that suddenly announced it would be ending on May 11th, despite the fact that there was still lots to wrap up in the story.

What this implies is that Rachel was given one more arc, with no concrete end date... until Webtoons told her to wrap it up in a limited number of episodes, hence why despite us knowing it was in its final arc, the end date still felt too soon. This is also supported by the fact that her initial announcement was vaguely "early/mid 2024" - she couldn't give a more accurate end date because she didn't plan for the actual ending.

3.) Things that Rachel has said implies that she was either hoping for the final arc to go on longer, or that she didn't think LO was going to be ending now.

(that "nothing is set in stone" quote further supports the theory that she may have been hoping to get renewed in spite of the lukewarm ending announcement - that the only reason the announcement was so quiet was because WT hadn't fully committed to it yet and wanted to see how the series would do upon its return; now that they see it falling behind to other series, it might mean WT became more sure in their decision to cut it and gave her an actual deadline to wrap it up by.)

4.) Webtoons has stopped promoting Lore Olympus despite it ending.

Any promotional spots that it has gotten have been stuffed into the dead zone of the banner reels (seriously, anything past the 3rd spot is practically useless because it takes actual committed scrolling to get there vs. the first 1-3 banner spots which can be seen as soon as you open the app/site) and the banner art itself does not in any way advertise the series being in its final arc. These banners also only seem to be appearing for a day at most, compared to the days upwards of weeks they used to get.

Webtoons also hasn't been doing any sort of promoting on their socials for it. Considering The Mafia Nanny has been consistently beating out LO in the top rankings for weeks now, and that LO's rating and view count is still dropping, it appears that Webtoons has finally given up on shoving it down people's throats and put their focus elsewhere.

Again, this is all tinfoil hat speculation, so take it with massive doses of salt. Considering this is Webtoons, I wouldn't be surprised if they finally decided to put LO out of its misery, but this is also Rachel and I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she finally wanted to be done with it after the past two years of people clowning on it. And I say that knowing I, myself, am a clown LOL

Either way, I feel like either outcome is plausible in its own ways, but whatever is the true reason, it doesn't change the fact that LO is ending and has 3 episodes left to wrap itself up. And whatever comes after will likely involve the launch of Inklore which was estimated for the spring.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #anon ask me anything #anon ama #ama #ask me anything

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