#i'm pretty sure it was just meant to be in the general sense like the way obi-wan used the term in anh

[stairset]

I'm gonna be real even though Bendu calls Ahsoka "former Jedi Knight" in their conversation in that one Filoni tweet I don't get why people are acting like he actually officially knighted her or whatever. Like it's not like he Officially Declares Her A Jedi Knight cause the conversation they're having has nothing to do with that. I always just took it as him being formal with her or whatever.

[ronanlynchbf]

diversity loss! those ppl correctly gendering u assumed you're straight..

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

TW: Obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual." 

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth. 

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship. 

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave. 

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you. 

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window. 

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing. 

That settles it. 

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way. 

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with. 

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. 

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency. 

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant. 

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops. 

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback. 

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily. 

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up. 

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend. 

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly. 

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza." 

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts. 

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your  coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly. 

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger. 

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. 

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape. 

The blonde man stares at you. 

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it. 

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach. 

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?" 

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body. 

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up. 

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm. 

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm. 

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part. 

Bonus: Daitou's backstory 

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect. 

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas." 

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up. 

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement. 

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances. 

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry. 

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid." 

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you. 

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection. 

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up. 

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat. 

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus. 

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair. 

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?

🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)

⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.

"You're pretty like a memory"

☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)

⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth.  There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times.  You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.

"Don't look at me with those eyes"

☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)

⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.

"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"

☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)

⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.

"Be Not Afraid."

ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

[wombywoo]

do you have any ghostsoap favorite fics, perhaps?

boy do I....

I should preface this by saying that I'm pretty...particular with what types of fics I enjoy reading (I only like certain character interpretations/tropes/writing styles, etc) so bear with me...

These are all mostly canon-compliant, non-AUs, ones that I regard highly~

Seasons--by StinglessWasp: This is pretty much my go-to fic rec for anyone into CoD and ghostsoap in general. It showcases everything I love about these characters, in a setting that feels as authentic to the games as possible, while also exploring the depth and sincerity hidden under the surface. So well-written and paced--the dialogue and military references all contribute to that 'feels like a mission out of the game' experience. Plus, I just love this interpretation of our boys--the humor, the inner struggles, the intimacy--Wasp 100% *gets* these characters and it's a joy to read <3

Except You, You Can Stay--by Iravaid: While this one isn't *technically* ghostsoap until the last chapter, in my opinion, it's required reading for anyone who gives a shit about Simon Riley. This is *the* character study--an intimate dissection of Ghost's past that seems so realistic and grounded, you forget how ludicrous those comics really are. Ira takes such care in treating these heavy topics with delicacy and effectiveness. Each chapter has you going 'oh wow, this is even better than the last', but as a whole--it's a stunning, fleshed-out glimpse into Simon as the character he was always meant to be. And the final chapter which eases you into his relationship with Johnny is so authentic and sweet, it just makes perfect sense that they should be together, and that this poor poor man deserves some goddamn love <3

bleeding in the house of god--by revolvermonkcelot: This is a really great 'missing scene' fic, a perfect opportunity to explore the in-between moments that the game so carelessly chooses to gloss over. I can't praise Monk's writing enough--it's slick and crisp and very tasty; the imagery just jumps off the page and you can practically feel the sweat. Plus, the dialogue exchanges between our two boys are so well-timed and in-character--love all the slang and British references~ This whole fic reads like an addition to their mission flirting, and I'm all for it! You can truly tell this author has such deep understanding and experience with this franchise (winkwinkwink, this is a joke) Read it--it's good!

The Dead are all Living--by Kabbal: This fic blew me away when I first read it. It's such a unique take on the retirement trope, I just adore this interpretation of Simon as an aging recluse while he builds his home. I tend to lean towards more subtle, grounded characterizations of Mr Riley, and this really fits the bill. All of these glimpses and fragments into his post-military life contribute to an overarching love story; the scenes with Johnny are so poignant, it's like you're pining alongside them both. I love how not-perfect they are; flawed and difficult and real. There are some moments and lines that just....struck something in me so deeply. I'm sure I'll still be thinking about it for a long long time <3

Portrait of Taction--by a_platypus: Another Simon-centric fic that I absolutely love. The character voice in this is off the charts, I can hear him so vividly in all of his inner dialogue and stunted attempts at conversation. Simon is so endearingly dense in this fic, you're just waiting for him to finally get his act together, but the clumsy, oblivious steps he takes in his relationship with Soap are truly a treat to read. I love this version of Johnny too--confident and considerate, but still hopelessly crushing on his superior. It's comedic, well-written, and the paragraphs describing Soap's journal give some of the best insights into his character I've seen <3

come on, haunt me--by flyby2: This was a really good long fic that I took my time savoring. What could have been a typical 'on leave' fic instead took time to develop a unique spin on the backstories as well as throwing our boys into some wholesome encounters. Both Soap and Ghost felt very true to character, and I appreciate the exploration of PTSD and the subsequent struggles that come along with...all that. There was a really nice balance in having their romance spread across the chapters, and I can promise a very sweet, happy conclusion <3

in the mess of it all--by flowersferns: A lovely one-shot that exhibits some of my favorite aspects of these two characters. I'm a sucker for 'one of them is hurt, the other is freaking out, they are both idiots in love, etc'. There are some really great dialogue and character moments in this, plus the overall prose hits hard. Love this take on their romance--the mutual trust, the familiarity of their bond. And just the general theme of impermanence--the inevitability of what this relationship means for them--two soldiers, willing and ready to sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice, still clinging to each other because...god...that's all they have---big fan of this :'D <3

Lapsus--by Lisbetadair: Another really great one-shot and 'missing scene' fic. The authenticity in the writing is spot-on--it's like you can feel Soap's pain right off the bat. I love how smoothly the banter flows between the two, and the attention to detail and references all help lend to that 'hardened military man' exterior. Ghost smelling like flowers because of a face wipe is such a delightful addition, plus the scene where Soap is, ah, donald-ducking it in just a t-shirt with his jewels out is such a funny mental image, I still think of it fondly from time to time. It's funny, it's surprisingly cute, it's very in-character. Stick around for some awkward but adorable cuddles <3

I'm sure I have more to recommend, but these are the ones I can personally endorse for now~

[blockgamepirate]

This is my petty complaint time, this video annoys me SO MUCH and even more so what annoys me is that the latest comment on it is this:

HE TAUGHT YOU SO MUCH BULLSHIT, PLEASE NO, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM

And yes, I've been thinking about this stream for nearly three years now, I've been meaning to go through it to critique Wilbur's arguments, I just never got around to it

Wilbur: "Tubbo, you've created an anti-state capitalist dystopia"

So all Tubbo had explained so far was that his town had a big company that owned two other big companies. Nothing about the government or anything. It's true that one company owning all the major businesses is pretty dystopian, sure, but I have no idea where Wilbur got the "anti-state" thing from, usually capitalist companies are fine with the existence of states, states do a lot of dirty work for the capitalists

Spoiler alert: Tubbo's city turns out to be pretty much a city state so Wilbur is just wrong anyway, not that he ever acknowledges it even when it does come up

Also it's not like corporate acquisitions are completely unheard of in the UK, as far as I know. Admittedly the UK is also arguably a capitalist dystopia but you know what I mean, the concept shouldn't be all that shocking to Wilbur

He's being so dramatic and trying to make it sound like he's caught Tubbo in a mistake or something. He also keeps asking questions and then not letting Tubbo answer properly before taking like one word Tubbo says and running with it

But this is the one that I find the most obnoxious:

T: "I did some research into like economics and stuff and I discovered this thing called UBI, have you heard of it?"

W: "What's it stand for?"

T: "Universal Basic Income"

W: "Yeah, I know about that"

He clearly does not know what UBI is.

It becomes very apparent very quickly:

W: "So you've got universal basic income but then also the rich exist still?"

T: "Yeah! Yeah they do."

W: "How does that come about then,"

T: "So in my mind--"

W: "is this universal basic income different for different people?"

T: "No, no, the universal basic income is better for everyone, just the people who have--"

W: "In order for there to be a 1% that means someone's earning more,"

T: "Yes, someone is earning more"

W: "but that means the universal basic income isn't universal!"

T: "No no no, not everyone's getting paid the same but everyone gets the same to begin with, okay? But then you can build on top of it."

W: "Oh no, you've got a-- Tubbo, you've got a fucking social point system!"

T: "Have I made a social point system??"

W: "Tubbo, you've made China!"

None of what Wilbur says makes ANY sense here. The only explanation I can think of is that he didn't know what UBI was, made an assumption that it just meant "everybody gets paid the same amount of money" or something like that and then just spoke fast enough that Tubbo couldn't correct him

Tubbo is correct here, Tubbo knows what he's talking about, but he can't out-speak Wilbur who is just throwing so much bullshit out of his mouth that there's no time to even respond

So, UBI means that everyone in the society gets a regular payment of a specific amount of money that's the same for everyone regardless of their life situation (and generally a requirement would be that it has to be enough to live on, altho people do like to water this down a lot...) This would be completely irrelevant to your wages or salary or capital gains. You can choose to either live on the UBI or you can just do the regular capitalist things to earn extra money on top of the UBI

Obviously I'm not one of those people who think that UBI would solve all of world's problems, I mean I am an anarchist and all (and not an ancap either), but it's literally just a very streamlined welfare system. That's all. It would probably be a lot better than the current models we have but it's not fundamentally different. There's nothing particularly weird about it, the point is just to make sure that everyone has enough money to live on, in every other regard it's just normal capitalism

Wilbur completely misunderstands the whole thing (because, again, he does not know what UBI is so he's just trying to imagine what it might mean based on what Tubbo is saying) and jumps immediately to something he apparently has heard of, which is the Chinese social credit system, which has nothing to do with UBI. In fact I'm pretty sure it also doesn't actually have anything to do with income either, or at least not directly, so I don't think Wilbur knows what the social credit system is either

He's literally just talking in buzzwords

Like if you actually wanted to make a leftist critique of Tubbo's city, you could, don't get me wrong. But instead Wilbur keeps insisting that he's made a social point system despite Tubbo trying to explain why it's not that at all

Wilbur just keeps yelling over Tubbo until his own chat turns against him and finally Tubbo himself also kinda gives up

And from there Tubbo also kinda just starts playing into the bit and just lets Wilbur direct the whole conversation, the rest of it is just them getting more and more into the roleplay. Wilbur keeps talking about the state pension plan, even though Tubbo already tried to explain that it's part of the UBI (this actually is how UBI is supposed to work, it does indeed streamline most of the welfare spending! Obviously you can still raise questions about that (I can think of a few at least) but Wilbur didn't let Tubbo explain so I have no idea what Tubbo actually had in mind)

I could try to go through all of what Wilbur says here but it's just too much, so maybe some other time. Although to be honest there are so many other streams that I probably should talk about instead that some fans unfortunately took a bit too seriously because they assumed Wilbur knew what he was talking about

My point here is mainly that just because someone sounds really confident and knows a bunch of buzzwords doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.

[astridthevalkyrie]

me getting into a new character: how neurodivergent am i allowed to go

cw: fluff + a few mild horny thoughts

Rafayel has this little quirk where he's practically incapable of acting like a normal boyfriend. Or a normal person, honestly. Where other people would just take your hand walking down the street, he holds it out with a too-happy, beaming grin so that he can see you take it yourself. Where other people would just sit down at a fancy restaurant, he makes mock offended noises if you try to sit before he can make a big show of pulling your chair out for you.

Where other people would kiss you, he likes biting.

"I'm thinking," he muses, nibbling on your earlobe, "what about a diamond necklace?"

You sigh, burrowing yourself further into him, back against his chest. You're quite comfortable, and you could even fall asleep if it wasn't for his constant yammering. "No."

"Come on," he complains, sinking his teeth into your cheek this time. You let out a brief sound of exasperation, trying to bat at him, but he remains steadfast, tongue poking out to soothe the minor indent he leaves into your skin. "How'm I supposed to prove myself if you won't let me?"

"How would you buying me a diamond necklace prove anything?"

One of his hands slips under your shirt, resting right under your chest. His fingers knead whatever they get in contact with—it's not painful, actually it feels pretty good, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Though you suppose, turning around in his hold and silently indicating to him to pull you closer may just be admitting exactly that.

"It'd prove I'm not cheap, for one thing. I'd be able to tell everyone, whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets! You're so strange, not wanting anything. Do you even know how rich I am?"

"Tell you what," you mumble, burying your face in his neck and completely melting in his arms as soon as his comforting scent fills your senses, "you buy me a quesadilla tomorrow and I'll tell everyone you're practically my sugar daddy."

Rafayel scoffs. "Like anyone would ever believe you were a sugar baby. You don't have the constitution for it."

That might be a new lead in the top ten strangest insults you've ever heard from him. Shooting a small glare up his way, you bite back, "Are you going to let me sleep or are you gonna keep talking?"

"Keep talking," he answers without hesitation, then barrels forward before you can protest. "Hmm, maybe I should just fill my place up with amenities for you. Cheese plates in the kitchen. Exfoliators in the bathroom. A butler to take your coat."

The ridiculous idea of him hiring a butler just so someone could occasionally take your coat from you when you come over makes you laugh, which in turn puts a pleased smile on his face and accidentally encourages him to continue.

"What's that kids' movie you like? Twelve Dancing Princesses? What if I just repaint this room with the floor design from that?"

Now hang on. This one actually interests you, the idea of playing out your childhood fantasies out by dancing around in Rafayel's room. If you asked, you're sure he'd hire someone to replicate the same dress the main character from that movie wears too. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Anyone who comes here would see it."

"Yeah, something tells Thomas won't care. And if anyone else does come here, they'll probably write a boringly long article meant to flatter me. Renowned artist is super nice and generous to his childish girlfriend—"

"Says the guy who cried during Island Princess," you fire back, "also, it's nice to know you're only trying to spoil me for acclaim."

"Hello? Did you miss the part where I said boringly long? I'm trying to spoil you because I want you to spend my money."

"Why? It turns you on or something?"

"Maybe," he grins, pretending to lean in to kiss you, then sinking his teeth into your cheek once more the second you purse your lips to meet him halfway. With a quiet growl, you kick at his feet, and he only laughs against your skin. "Come oooon, I'm serious. Tell me at least one expensive thing I can get you."

Finally, you open your eyes, looking up at him with all your sincerest conviction. "Raf. If you wanna ruin your reputation and renovate your floor into the Twelve Dancing Princesses one just to prove a point, go for it. But I'm warning you, I'm gonna have to give you the best head of your life if you do that."

Rafayel groans, the hand that's not up your shirt tangling into your hair. "Don't tell me that, you're gonna force me to be selfless and turn it down. This isn't transactional. I give you my card and tell you to go wild, and then you just do it. Nothing in return."

Ah, yes, the Raf classic. Say the sweetest possible thing in the most irritating way he possibly can. Well, two can play at that game.

"If you give me your card and expect nothing in return, I'm going to strictly buy paint supplies in all your favorite brands, all your favorite colors—"

"I don't have favorite colors—"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, you press on. "And your weak attempt to spoil me will fall flat because not only will I only buy things you like, but I'll wire you the entire amount of what I spend the next day."

He lets out a dramatic half-whine, shaking you a little. "Man, you're so embarrassing!" Tugging you closer, he drowns out your complaints with his own protests. "So clingy, stop getting so close to me! Oh my god," he moans, holding your hand tighter the more you try to fight him and pull back, "get away from me, stalker. Let go!"

"Holy shit, you're so annoying—"

"And you're so obsessed with me, it's concerning."

For once, you're the one pouting at him. "I'm trying to sleep. You're really warm. Can you please push my limits later?"

An affectionate smile lights up his face. "Yeah, okay. As long as you agree tomebuyingyouapradabag."

"No."

Rafayel snorts, tucking his face into your hair. "And you think you could handle being a sugar baby."

[yunjardi]

my heart bel♡ngs to daddy [series]

[young sugar daddy!jake × fem!reader]

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[click here for this series' masterlist to read previous chapters, general warnings, and playlist]

[!!chapter warnings!!: smut [mdni], DADDY KINK, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, oral, gentle sex, cockwarming, angst, crying, arguing, minor possessiveness (???), mentions of negative body image near the end, some fluff, lmk if i missed anything!]

*sorry for any grammar errors

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-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

chapter 16: the ugly truth?

"y/n, please, i really do love you," jake begged you breathlessly, "you're seriously such a big part of my life. what would i ever do without a friend like you?"

a friend.

a friend.

friends.

that's what you and jake are, huh?

the bubbly and shocked feeling that took over your body after hearing jake tell you that he loves you quickly fizzled away once jake uttered that 6 letter word.

that stupid 6 letter word.

how were you even supposed to react to this?

well, you reacted the only way your body would let you.

with anger.

"jake, i need you to do something for me, okay?" jake nodded as you took a deep breath inward before continuing, "once you walk out that door, never come back again. don't bother contacting me either because i don't wanna hear it. friends don't do what we do. you led me on, you asshole. now get out."

"y/n, i meant- i-"

"i said i don't wanna hear it!" you raised your voice, helpless tears falling again, "i-i think it's best if you leave now." your voice softened as tears uncontrollably rolled down your face, causing jake to cry too.

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n," jake declared with a stern tone, "i'm not letting you push me away, not after everything we've been through." you scoffed. "after everything we've been through? you're unbelievable, jake. i'm not gonna fall for your pretty-boy antics anymore, so you can forget about all that."

jake was at a loss for words. he'd never seen you be so cold before, not to him, not to anyone.

"listen, let's both just calm down. i know we're both heated right now, and we shouldn't be arguing when we're mad like this and-"

"will you shut up with your preaching and just go already?!" you yelled out in frustration, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a ball and be left alone. you didn't want to face the man who was actively breaking your heart into tiny little pieces any longer.

"fine," jake gave in, not saying another word and simply walking out of your house.

secretly, you wanted him to keep fighting for you even though it wouldn't make sense if he did.

the millisecond you heard the door shut, you immediately began bawling your eyes out.

you had no idea what was gonna happen next, if anything that is.

all you could do is sob helplessly in the same spot he left you in.

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you made sure to sob your eyes until you could no longer feel tears in your eyes before heading to work with heavier makeup than usual to cover your tear-stained skin.

calling your manager beforehand, you let her know that you were able to work from opening to closing for which she was quite pleased to hear.

you needed to be as distracted as possible so that you wouldn't think of jake's pretty, yet also cute, puppy face, and the way his hair flowed whenever he'd turn to look at you, and also-

damn, you were already failing your mission miserably.

you managed to pull yourself together on the bus ride to work and walk into the bar without any trouble.

lucky for you, the bar extra was packed this evening which meant you'd be too busy running around to think about anything besides alcohol and more alcohol.

there was no room to think about how much you missed jake's presence, how much you wanted him to kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, and you definitely weren't thinking about how much you missed the way his scent blinded you whenever he pulled you into an embrace.

it seemed nothing else could gain control over your clouded mind the way jake does. the way that only he could possibly do.

you were so distracted by faded thoughts of him that you nearly spilled drinks multiple times during your shift and nearly dropped a crystal wine glass floor because of how zoned out you were.

luckily, your mishaps were enough to keep you on your toes plus distracted for a teensy amount of time and by the time you checked the clock, customers were already on their way out for closing hours to come.

you volunteered to stay later than usual to lend a hand and clean up around the bar as an excuse to stay away from your thoughts for as long as possible. your manager found it strange, but she was thankful nonetheless to have some extra hands on deck helping out.

waving goodbye to your manager after cleaning tables and counters, you finally exited the building with a deep sigh and began to walk to the bus stop.

as soon as the night time air hit you, you were suddenly plagued with the most extreme wave of loneliness you'd ever experienced. you feared that you would feel lonelier at night because of the jake situation, and you hated that those fears were steadily becoming a reality.

your brain began to run laps as you started to wonder how things could have turned out if you'd been less nit-picky.

maybe you overreacted. maybe you made something out of nothing. maybe everything was your fault.

you couldn't help but sigh.

the walk home from the bus stop was when you finally let all the tears you were holding in pour from your eyes. you almost couldn't see where you were going due to the tears blurring your vision, but you eventually got to your house. your eyes jaded with tears, you turned the corner to enter your house only to be greeted by a figure sitting at your doorstep.

none other than jake.

he simply could not bear the pain of you not being by his side. he was determined to get through to you; whatever it would take, he'd do it ten fold. jake refused to let you go.

ever since you popped into his life, his greatest fear became losing you, and he refused to let that fear become a reality. he swore to himself that he'd do anything and everything to prove himself to you.

"w-what are you doing here?" you questioned jake between sobs, "i though i t-told you to stay away."

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n. hell, i'll sleep out here all night if i have to," jake declared firmly, his bloodshot and teary eyes gleaming in the moonlight, "trust me, you're not getting rid of me that easily." his tone turned slightly sly.

"jake..." you sighed out, "come inside. how long have you been sitting out here?" you asked whilst opening the front door. he shook his head, not wanting to answer as if it wasn't important for you to possess the knowledge of his time camping at your doorstep.

you let him step inside before you, locking the door once you both got inside.

"so, what is it?" you questioned him again with a sigh, "are you here to collect your things or something?" you tried to keep your voice steady, not wanting to show just how badly you were hurting.

"why would i? it's not like i'm never coming back," jake responded with the same stern tone as before, "you told me to leave and never come back, but i know you better than that, y/n. we both know that we're not just gonna let each other slip through our fingertips. well, at least i'm not going to.

you hated the ease that jake had when it came to seeing right through you and/or literally reading your mind.

he always joked that his sixth sense was 'reading y/n's mind,' but it was scarily true, especially in this moment.

pondering on how attentive jake had always been toward you was enough to have you bawling your eyes out again. thinking about all the little things he did for you every since the beginning made your heart feel like it was about to burst.

jake cautiously stepped toward you, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away if he got any closer, but to his surprise, you didn't. he took this as an opportunity to hold you in his arms, and he was relieved that you even let him do so.

he let out the most intense sigh of relief at the feeling of your head falling against his chest, certain that you were able to hear how quickly his heart pounded.

"shh," jake whispered quietly as he held you tightly, "i'm here, princess. don't cry. you're gonna make me start crying again, baby." you simply melted at his touch as he gently rocked you from side to side, comfort rushing through your body. once you calmed down, you were able to wipe your tears away from your eyes and look up at his tear-stained face. the sight of his upset expression made you bury your head back into his chest, a slight guilt creeping up on you from making him cry along with you.

but you began to feel guilt for another unrelated matter.

unfortunately, you were seconds away from ruining the endearing moment because you couldn't help yourself from expressing your thoughts.

"you're all dirty now," you uttered a soft whine as you wiped a few stray tears away from your eyes, "i was all over the bar cleaning up which made me all gross, and now you're probably all dirty now too."

all of jake's clothes were expensive, and knowing that the hoodie he wore most definitely had remnants of unsanitary bar grime, makeup, and tears made you shudder with unease. his cashmere prada sweater would definitely be unforgiving when it came to attempting to get makeup stains cleaned off of the material.

"is that really what you're worried about, silly?" jake asked with a refreshing yet shy smile whilst tilting your chin upward to look up at him. nodding, you felt your face shifting into a pout yet again and wanted to hide your face as a result.

"give me a second to wash up, please?" you gave jake another pout, embarrassed as you wiped the last stray tears away from your face, tears finally coming to a halt.

"only if i'm allowed to join," jake remarked with a cheeky expression, slightly too soon.

"fine."

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you should've seen this coming.

you should've known that you'd be under the warm water, letting it trickle down your skin, getting lost in a make-out session with the man who can't seem to make up his mind.

you could never seem to gain a sense of morality when the subject of the situation is jake.

you let him overtake you physically and mentally.

there was something about seeing you covered in droplets of warm water whilst steam surrounded the two of you that steadily made jake's desire for you grow deeper and more intense.

jake never knew until now that he had a 'thing' for seeing you with body wash suds all over you; it was like he unlocked a new part of his already-filthy brain.

"hey," jake uttered between kisses as his hands explored your soapy body, "everything i said earlier, it was all a misunderstanding. i love you, y/n, i really do. i just got nervous saying it out loud and started talking out of my ass as a result. please trust me when i tell you that i love you so badly."

your kiss with jake deepened, shutting him up before he could say anything else.

you didn't feel like responding, mostly because you didn't know what to say, so you simply kept kissing him as his hands continued to wander themselves around your body, unknowingly making your core heat up.

as soon as things began to wind down, you turned off the water, handing jake a towel as well as taking one for yourself.

upon arriving to your bedroom, the two of you put on some comfortable clothes as if you weren't about to get undressed in the next five minutes.

you two found your way onto the bed, kissing each other on the lips softly until the situation turned more erotic.

"you're so pretty," jake mumbled into your lips, "all mine." you nodded your head at his comment, "yours." jake seemed to be pleased with your response, it becoming more apparent that his boxers were growing tight.

you let your hands feel down his torso until you got lower, and lower, and eventually down to the waistband of his boxers, ready to take them off after only a few short minutes of them being on. jake followed suit, hastily getting your panties off and discarding them onto the nightstand.

continuing the intimate kiss, jake began to rub gentle circles against your sensitive clit whilst you took his hard length into one of your hands, slowly stroking it at the same pace as he touched you. amorous moans were the only sounds filling the room as jake smoothly slipped a finger inside your needy hole. he moved his hand slowly, feeling every bit of your walls against his slender finger as you began to moan helplessly into his mouth, gripping his cock and stroking it a little harder than before. the two of you moaned in tandem, using your hands to please one another until you reached your limits.

"wait," jake quickly broke the kiss, causing you to look at him as he still continued to rub your clit, "i need a taste."

his statement made your face flush red as you let go of his throbbing cock, letting it fall against his toned lower abdomen as he slid his finger out of your pussy, now positioning you comfortably against the headboard.

"don't be shy, princess," jake chuckled at your coy demeanor, "i've seen you before, silly, and i love what i see." he arguably made you more shy once he parted your legs, biting his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. jake wasted no time, going in for a taste half a second later. the feeling of his tongue against your warmth making a moan escape your lips as your fingers tugged on his pretty brown hair.

"fuck, that's so good, daddy," you mewled as his tongue worked wonders against your hole. you could feel the way he smirked against your clit every time he earned a little moan from you. jake practically lived to please you whether you realized it or not. "i need your cock, please, please, please?" you begged as he stuck his tongue into your soaking hole. jake looked up from between your legs, smirking at how needy his tongue made you.

jake positioned you onto your side, wanting to hold you while he fucked himself into you. he held your leg up, stroking his cock a few times before letting his tip enter you. you squirmed at the feeling, letting out a little moan at the feeling of his thick tip passing through you. slowly, he inched his length into you, his breath hitching at the way your walls clenched around him.

"good girl, so tight for daddy," jake breathed out as he began to thrust softly.

you could feel him so deep inside your cunt, your core quickly burning up at the sensation of his tip steadily bumping against your sweet spot.

jake somehow managed to fuck you like a whore whilst holding you like you were his precious princess.

his thrusts were gentle but very affective, making you twitch as you brought your hand down to your clit, wanting badly to reach your climax.

"daddy, right there," you whined quietly as you brought your hand from your clit up to his spare hand, bringing it around to cup one of your boobs. jake moaned at the way you held his hand against your chest, his core tightening and heating up alongside yours. the stimulation was too much. you found yourself cumming around the base of his thick cock, coating his pretty member with your arousal. "such a good girl," jake praised you as he brought his hand down to your lower abdomen, "you're so pretty when you cum for me."

"your turn, jakey," you urged him by reaching down to play with his balls, causing his head to fall back with a loud groan. he had no choice but to fill you up, ropes of cum shooting deep into your pussy as you both moaned at the feeling.

calming down from your orgasms, you two stayed in the position you were in before inevitably falling asleep as jake kept you close to him throughout the entire night as you both slept.

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

the morning after, you felt deviously groggy as if you'd gotten drunk the night before.

the first thing you noticed was jake being gone.

for a second your heart shattered yet again, but your drama queen moment was interrupted when you noticed a handwritten letter on the bedside table.

my lovely princess,

i had to head home early this morning, princess, please don't alarmed by me not being there. i'm not sure if you're working this evening, but it would be great if you could stop by my place beforehand if you are.

-jakey <3

you let out a sigh of relief knowing that jake didn't leave out of pettiness or anything like that.

you rolled out of bed earlier than you would've liked to so that you could go and visit jake before heading to your shift. you couldn't help but wonder why he wanted you to be there. shrugging it off, you quickly got changed into your work uniform, the usual tight and cropped button-up that you barely had buttoned, and a short skirt.

after getting into your work clothes, you put on a significantly less amount of makeup than yesterday before feeding the fish and slipping on a pair of pretty black heels that were easy to walk in.

and you, of course, couldn't forget to bring (one of) your favorite bags that, of course, jake bought for you. since you believed that your recent fight with jake was now behind the both of you, you felt comfortable with using the clothes he'd gifted you throughout your time together.

feeling thankful for the fact that you made up with jake, it was now time to head to his place.

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

after the lengthy train journey to jake's house, you walked up to his door and rang the fancy doorbell, waiting for him to come to the door.

you were greeted with a soft kiss from a handsome-as-always jake before he looked you up and down, seeming surprised and shocked at your skimpy work clothes as if he hadn't seen them before.

i mean come on, he literally met you while you were wearing these clothes.

"here," jake reached over to you, buttoning your shirt up higher and practically trying to cram your boobs back into your shirt in the process. he could've sworn they'd gotten bigger, but maybe it was just his dirty imagination. "much better," he sighed with relief. you couldn't help but giggle at his antics; you never saw the day where he'd but buttoning your shirt up.

"you're so silly, puppy," you chuckled as you gazed into his sparkly eyes, completely entranced by his handsome face.

you two stood there, your arms around his neck and his around your waist until you were brutally interrupted by a loud "ahem!"

startled, your head snapped in the direction in which the voice came from.

you couldn't believe your eyes.

"jake, w-what's going on here?" you questioned him with urgency as you stepped away from him, losing physical contact.

it had been so long since you've seen her face that for a second you believed that your eyes were playing tricks on you.

there she was, stood right in front of you.

the girl from the bar.

"y/n, just give me a chance to explain myself," jake begged to which you motioned for him to go on as you tried not to roll your eyes, "i just thought that maybe by bringing you both here, you'd bring this drama to a close, call a truce or something, you know?"

"you're joking, right?" you questioned him a second time, feeling like you were about to lose your mind, "there's no drama that needs to be 'closed,' and i don't appreciate the fact that you're bringing me face-to-face with someone who belittled me for months and went on to physically assault me. there is no drama; she's just- she's- a bitch! that's what she is, and i never want to see her again, jake!" your tone was firm, clear, and serious until you panicked after calling her a bitch. you couldn't help but feel your stomach fall into the depths of hell as you tried to hold back tears.

"now just who the fuck do you think you are, y/n?" she began aggressively moving closer to where you and jake were standing, causing your body to tense up, her knowing your name while you didn't even know hers making you fear her presence even more, "you- you're the bitch in this situation, so don't you get it twisted! why are you in jake's life in the first place? all you've done is take up all his time while you sit around and spend his money all while ruining his reputation! before you were around, he dedicated his whole life to his family's business, and once you waltzed in, he started wasting his time taking care of you like a liability. you're ruining him whether you want to admit it or not!"

her words brought you to a standstill. why did she seem to know so much about you and jake's relationship? more importantly, why does she think she has the right to say these things? more, more importantly, why hasn't jake said a single word?

"who are you to say any of that?" you blurted out furiously, "why are you so concerned about what we're doing? just mind your business! none of this would be happening if you just decided to leave him alone! leave us alone while you're at it! blaming me for random shit isn't going to change a thing; jake and i both know what's going on between him and i, and that's none of your concern. leave me out of this."

trying to remain calm, you took a deep breath only for her to start coming closer to a point where you could smell her flowery perfume.

"his business is my business," she stated firmly, looking into your soul via your eyes, "you better believe and internalize when i say that you're a no-good, useless commoner who could only dream of living the life we do. just because you think you're in cahoots with jake doesn't mean you're gonna snake your way into his life, you got that? you're just a bit of fun for him, someone he can use for a little while before he realizes that you're just a pathetic commoner who he shouldn't associate with. god, when will you realize that you're just an object that he can put his arm around and fuck when he has nothing else to do?"

at this time, you wished that your ears were deceiving you; you truly couldn't believe that anyone could say something as cruel as that seemingly without feeling any shame or guilt.

you also couldn't believe that you were basically having a cat-fight with another woman over a man. you never ever thought you'd get to this point, but jake... he just means so much to you to a point where you couldn't bear the thought of someone trying to take him away from you. god you felt pathetic for letting a guy take control of your emotions like this, but you couldn't help yourself; jake was so precious to you.

"soyeon, that's enough!" jake suddenly spoke up, shocking both of you.

well, at least now you finally learned her name after all this time.

"i'm not just gonna sit here and let you say disrespectful things to y/n! she did nothing wrong, and i'm sick of you thinking that she did. she's not ruining anything, and she's especially not ruining me! just leave her and i alone and find someone else."

"seriously, why did you bring her here?" you asked jake quietly, "you knew she wasn't going to be civil about this."

"y/n," jake looked into your eyes as he spoke, "i really thought things would be settled. in hindsight, i should've seen this coming, but i never meant to hurt you by doing this."

she seemed to smirk at the way you finally began to tear up.

"well you did," you spoke out, gently wiping your waterline to avoid messing up your makeup, "i honestly don't know how much more i can take. you told me that you loved me last night; was it all a lie? were you just sweet-talking me? i don't know what you want anymore, jake."

at this point, jake's feelings were as clear as mud.

"look at me. please don't cry," jake begged, wanting so desperately to wipe your tears away, soyeon watching the situation from just a few paces away.

"see, there he goes again," her voice making you tense up again, "taking care of you like a child. it's sad to watch, really. you're only stressing him out by acting like this, so go take your tears somewhere else-"

"haven't we heard enough from you already?!" jake raised his voice at her, "look, if you can't suck it up and leave her alone, then get out and never show your face around her nor i ever again!"

"how could you say that, jake?" she began crying out, "if it weren't for her, things would've played out perfectly! if it weren't for her, we'd be married!"

"m-married?" you managed to speak out as you looked over at jake in disbelief. after that, you couldn't get another word out, only mustering up the courage to take your phone and wallet out of the bag you brought with you (that was, of course, from jake) and leave it on a chair before walking out the door.

no matter how many times jake called your name, you couldn't find the courage to turn around. hearing the words that she said made your entire world crumble around you.

marriage? is that why he invited you to his house to meet her formally?

whatever.

you didn't want to think about it anymore.

you wished that jake's front yard and driveway wasn't such a strenuous walk because you could still hear him calling your name endlessly, begging you to come back.

"let her go, jake," you heard soyeon's loud and mocking voice, "she doesn't understand this lifestyle, and she never will."

maybe she was right. maybe you'd never understand because you weren't born into a rich and noble family like they were.

you couldn't hear much else once you got to the end of the excruciatingly long driveway, only being able to hear a loud "get out" that you presumed came from jake.

after finally making it out of his residence, you took a second to tell your boss that something came up and that you couldn't come in after all. luckily, she was understanding and thankfully didn't make you explain what went on which was a relief.

at that, you took your sad ass back home and planned to stay there for the next couple of days.

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

"that's absolutely insane," yeji's jaw dropped over the phone.

you decided to call her and tell her the sequence of events because, come on, you can't hide anything from your best friend.

"and i'm a wreck over it," you admitted lowly as you spoke into the phone, "i think i just need some time to myself, you know? after all, i've spent virtually all my time with him since we met, so maybe some time apart will do us some good."

"who knows, maybe he'll finally make up his mind," yeji shrugged before letting you go, reminding you that you could call her any time no matter what.

you sighed softly once the call ended, feeling more alone than ever.

stupidly, you decided to open up his designated drawer in your bedroom where he kept some clothes and put on one of his hoodies. the smell of his clothes only made your heart shatter into even smaller pieces as you curled up on your bed in hopes that you could get some sleep, your eyes sore and tired from crying.

a sudden panic filled your body once you heard the sound of your front door being unlocked, causing you to jolt up from your bed.

"y/n, are you home? it's just me," you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the living room. you peeked from underneath your covers to see jake standing before you, holding out his hand for you to grab it, but you refused.

as much as you wanted to curl up in bed with jake and act like everything was dandy, simply seeing his face made you start crying like a baby.

jake's heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of you crying.

he did this.

he fucked up.

and he was unsure if he could do anything to fix it.

"g-get out," you managed to stutter through your tears, "y-you're a liar; you d-don't love m-me. s-shouldn't you be g-getting ready f-for a w-wedding with h-her or s-something?"

"for fuck's sake, y/n, i'm not marrying her!" jake raised his voice at you unintentionally, "i don't even want her in my life, so what makes you think that i'd do anything of the sort?" you could only let out sniffles in response, letting tears trickle down your face as jake slowly approached you.

upon seeing you up close, he noticed that you were clad in one of his hoodies which only made his heart soften even more. he couldn't stop himself from climbing into your bed and sitting next to you, his back against the headboard as he looked down at you.

you turned away from him, not wanting him to see your puffy, tear-stained face.

"is it because she's prettier than me?" you asked, your emotions suddenly spilling out, "because her figure is better than mine? or maybe how her hair always looks perfect? is it the way that she always dresses up no matter where she goes? or how you and her probably have a lot more in common in a sense that you two both come from noble and rich families? if you really think i'm an unattractive nobody just say it."

you couldn't see it, but jake's face was in a state of shock, absolutely refusing to believe that your mind came up with all of those ideas.

"you don't really think that, right?" jake asked softly, getting his answer from the way that you stayed still and silent, "princess, how could i ever? don't you know that i only have eyes for you? please, look at me." you felt jake's warm hand meet your shoulder, helping you turn your body to face him.

you sat up against the headboard next to him, your eyes glistening as you looked into his eyes that seemed to be saddened upon finding out what was going on in the depths of your mind. jake couldn't help but stop and wonder how long you'd been feeling that way, and it caused a sinking feeling to bubble up within him.

"if there's one thing i want you to know right now, it's that i think you're the most gorgeous woman i've ever laid my eyes upon," jake declared, pulling you closer and closer, "i don't care what you say, i don't care if you disagree because this is my truth." jake eventually pulled you close enough to where you were sat on his lap, your forehead against his while he lowly mumbled sweet nothings to you.

"you know, ever since i first put my hands on you, i never wanted to touch anyone else," jake admitted in a whisper as his hands began to travel around your waist, "even the thought of being in this position with anyone else makes me sick to my core."

you let jake's hands feel all over you as you felt his obvious hard growing underneath you, letting a small whimper pass through your lips.

some would argue that your relationship with jake was in too fragile of a state to be intimate with each other, but you couldn't disagree more; you needed to feel jake in the most intimate and vulnerable way possible.

"please," you whined in a whisper, jake knowing exactly what you were asking for and following suit.

in the blink of an eye, you let jake slip his hard cock inside you, his hands still wandering around your waist as he pushed his hoodie off your body. you let out quiet moans as goosebumps formed all over your body from his touch. the combination of the slow movements of your hips against his along with the way his hands ghosted over your chest was enough to send your body into a frenzy.

not wanting to rush the pleasure, you slowed the movement of your hips to focus on jake's beauty.

you took time to adore the way his lips looked against your chest as he left gentle pecks along your skin, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, the way his eyes would meet yours, causing you to become shy.

"see how beautiful you are?" jake began, his lips finding their way back onto your skin, "i couldn't even imagine anyone else who i'd give myself to almost every goddamn chance i get. i want you all the time, you have no idea." his breathing slowed down as you began to kiss his soft lips.

it's impossible.

he's impossible.

jake sim is impossible not to fall in love with.

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

a/n: sorry this one is so long and isn't exactly an easy read. i hope you still enjoyed it anyway and are looking forward to the next one <3 ily all and tysm for being super patient with this series. i love it so much and don't want to give up on it, so your support really helps <3

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @valiantwastelanddelusion @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @lhsng @i-dalso @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @lix-freckle3 @l0st-h0p3s @leeis @jaeyunology @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @tum73er @dilftime @qoh3 @sh1mja4yun @leeheeheeseung @jenshinee @sjakewrld @markleeisdabestdrug @futuremodeldiary @jeondolly @lil-iva @lalalalawon @noirgray @jckeplanet @teddy-lhj @meinapricity @jjkshies @bubbleseo @cherryunie @mqndnolia @bently-baby @fluffypiesstuff @ihrtk1ve @wonkiluvr @teti-menchon0604 @lovienikitty @rjsmochii @omgjwon @sunshine-skz @wy1999t @lv4rin @oceanyocean @nyfwyeonjun @mxshimoo @multifandombtvh @donghyckl @iloveoceaneyesss @jakeswhore @jinsfavoritedoll @brownsugarbaybee @heehee01 @mesopret @heesitation @heeverseblog @yoursjaeyun @mklhyvn @jungwon-xo @crazydelulu @kyurizeu @ineedsomezzz @beeomgui @graythecoffeebean @mixtape-racha @jaehoonii @wave2love @ifykyk3 @niniisnormal @miumiuoi

(everyone in bold will be removed from my taglist in the next post, so if one of these accounts is you, please check your tag settings!)

©yunjardi on tumblr

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

A Phil update! For those who were asking.

I mentioned before that Phil works for a call centre. I'm pretty sure I've also made it clear by now that Phil's spectacular weirdness, coupled with his hatred of capitalism, means he's been mentally checked out of that job for a while now. His main focus has been his degree for the past year anyway. The only reason he's stayed is because Phil has a history of destructive impulsivity that he's been actively working on, so he didn't want to just walk out.

So there we are, scene set. Last week, he phones my husband.

"A weird thing happened in work," he tells Steff. "My manager called me into the office for a chat, but... I think it was weird? I'm pretty sure it was weird."

"Tell me what happened, Phil," says Steff.

***

Here's the story:

Phil goes into the office, and the manager fixes him with a Kind Smile.

"Phil," the Manager says hesitantly. "Do you... like working here?"

"...um," says Phil, distantly aware after Many Conversations with Exasperated Friends that the correct answer to your boss is 'yes', but physically incapable of lying. "Well. I. Um."

"Because," the manager says awkwardly. "Look, you - it's okay."

"Is it?" Phil asks vaguely.

"It's okay," the manager repeats. "I know you don't like working here. This isn't what you want to do. You don't want to stay."

"No," Phil agrees, relieved they are on the same page.

"Listen," the manager says, in an agony of awkwardness. "Look, Phil... you're such a nice guy. Just... I'll write you the best reference. But you can just... go, if you want. You can... go back to your desk and log out and just... leave."

"...okay," says Phil. And he leaves.

***

So he tells this story to Steff, who is, obviously, BAFFLED.

"Okay," says Steff. "Right. Phil. Phil what the fuck did you do."

"Nothing!" Phil protests. "I didn't do anything!"

"Okay," Steff says again, changing tack. "Phil. What have you done recently that a capitalist would disapprove of?"

"Oh," says Phil. "It's probably because I gave that old woman £200 of company money."

"...go on," Steff says wearily.

***

Here's the story:

This sweet old woman rings and says her phone was down for a couple of days. She's calling to complain, because it meant she couldn't contact her relatives, and she felt lonely.

"I'm so sorry," says Phil. "Do you want some money?"

("First question," says Steff. "Were you supposed to give any money at all for that?"

"...no," says Phil.)

So this old woman is like "Uh... yes please? Okay?"

"Alright!" says Phil cheerfully. "Let's see how much I can give you."

("Second question," says Steff. "Were you allowed to give out £200 to anyone?"

"Oh, no," says Phil. "They made it really difficult, actually, it took ages.")

"Ah," Phil tells this old lady. "I can only give you £50. Let's try that."

"I... thank you," says this old lady, already in the grip of the Heady Bewilderment that descends on everyone who speaks to Phil for a bit. "That's very generous."

"It's gone through!" says Phil happily. "There we are. I wonder if it'll let me do it again?"

"Um," says the old lady, who is starting to sense that she's dealing with a maverick doing something he shouldn't.

("Third question," says Steff. "Did she ask for more at any point?"

"Um... no," says Phil.)

"It worked!" Phil says brightly. "Do you want me to do it again? I think it'll let me."

"...okay," this old lady says, strangled. "Thank you."

"No problem," says Phil helpfully. "It's done it, I think. Shall we do one more?"

"Yes please," says this old woman, who is now convinced she's either called the wrong number or is speaking to an amenable faerie one mustn't refuse.

Phil tries again. It goes through.

...

"Do you think," Steff asks, "that this might have been a fireable offence?"

"I suppose?" Phil says dubiously. "The company has loads of money though, I don't see why."

"...no, of course you don't," Steff agrees.

"Anyway," Phil says. "I think I left on a good note. But that might have been weird, too."

"What did you do," Steff sighs.

"Well, I packed up my desk," says Phil. "And then this guy turned up who was supposed to give me some training. And I told him that I was leaving so it wasn't necessary, and then he said that he had to give the training-"

"You did the training, didn't you," says Steff.

"I did the training," says Phil.

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Howdy my beautiful souls✨ I'm officially back! It feels like it has been forever since I last worked on a pac for y'all! Thank you all for the messages wishing for my health, I am feeling much better. Today we will be looking into advice you need to hear! I might be a little blunt so keep that in mind. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Credit to @chachachannah for the divider!

Pile 1 Cards: Ace of Pentacles rx, Page of Swords, The Devil, The Star, King of Wands, Seven of Cups, Two of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Page of Wands

There is a lot to go over here Pile 1, you may have been going through it recently or things may feel pretty chaotic for you right now. For you guys, there are somethings you may be turning a blind eye to and opportunities you haven't been taking. Right now you need to take some time to plan and TAKE ACTION! Think about what you want and what you need to do to accomplish this task. And while this is time for action, be careful not to overwhelm yourself with responsibilities, or rush into anything without properly thinking it through. You may be putting yourself down, thinking whatever you want is impossible or out of reach, it isn't. In fact, I heard it's right in front of you or hidden in plain sight. There may be negative affirmations that you are either hearing from yourself or someone else and it is only pulling you further from your goals when you listen to these words, absorb them, and view them as fact when they aren't. You need to keep in mind the power of words and how they can not only effect you, but the people around you. I heard "when you go around with a loser mentality, you are only going to get a loser result" so even in situations where you feel like you are going to lose or that something won't be successful, you need to try to think positive anyway. I know that isn't the easiest request, however, actively reminding yourself of your positive affirmations and staying determined to keep trying when things get hard can take you further than you ever thought you could go. Use your creative brain and I heard be willing to use your heart in certain situation. With the Seven of Cups, there may be a situation or even a person around you that isn't what you think. Be aware of signs that things don't entirely add up or make sense. For some of yall, this is going to be about a travel destination or someone may be offering something that isn't real. With the Devil energy, you may have an unhealthy addiction to something, for some of you I am hearing your phone or social media (who isn't now a days). You may have been consuming too much media and it is really taking a toll on you. Whatever the addiction is, this can go two way for you, you can take the proper action to help yourself or keep hurting yourself by not getting the help you need. Pile 1, you have so much potential and abundance that can be coming your way if you would just believe in yourself!

Advice Cards:

Be bold. It's time to lead forward!

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

It's time to challenge old beliefs!

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure

Create an internal structured frame of reference and stay focused

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Knight of Swords, Temperance, The Empress rx, Nine of Swords rx, Knight of Wands, The Emperor, Ace of Wands rx Back of the Deck: Ten of Wands

For my Pile 2, we need to talk about how you see yourself and your own self-confidence. I actually feel like this group is divided into two groups, some of you need to work on your confidence and how you interact with yourself. You may be putting yourself down and you need to stop it! You have wonderful energy Pile 2 and deserve love and compliments just as much as others! You just need to see what everyone else sees. You are refusing people because you may have been taught that complimenting yourself shows signs of selfishness and narcissism, something along those lines. It isn't true, you are talented and strong and deserve all the compliments and praise you receive! For the second group of you, I actually want to say to keep it up and don't give up! You may feel a little out of inspiration and creativity but you may just need time to process your thoughts and really figure out what you need to do! Stay confident and positive in your work! I heard this confidence and outgoing nature is your greatest ally. In the moments that you feel like you can't get anything right and things seem impossible, remember who you are! You are that bitch! The sky is the limit for you Pile 2. You can do it, you just need to trust in yourself, beware of last minute nerves that sneak up on you and make you doubt yourself. Also don't be afraid to take bold action and maybe even trying your hand at a leadership position, you have what it takes you just need to believe in yourself. I think that is a big message here for my Pile 2s, believing what you want is possible and just doing it. I know that sounds like a hard task but I really feel like for my Pile 2s, you guys don't even realize your potential and it almost physically hurts me. Some of yall also need to take a step away from worrying about your appearance, it is only hurting you in a really unhealthy way. My Pile 2s are so beautiful inside and out and shouldn't forget that. You may need to work more on your divine masculine energy, regardless of your gender. (There is a little similar energy to Pile 1 so if you felt called, please do read Pile 1)

Advice Cards:

It is time to take appropriate action

A rite of passage allows you to move forward into new realms

Weigh your situation carefully

Give yourself your own approval

Create a plan and take the first step

Give up resistance in your current situation

Channled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: King of Swords rx, Nine of Cups rx, Page of Wands rx, Nine of Wands, Two of Swords rx, King of Pentacles, Four of Wands, Eight of Wands rx Back of the Deck: Five of Wands

I think for my Pile 3's, you need to stop being so strict on yourself, I am also hearing that you need to surrender to something. There may an event or situation that you have been avoiding for a long time now and spirit is saying that it's time to face this and accept the result. This may be something that you feel pushes you farther from your goals or you are just afraid of the unknown of the situation, something along these lines. I am hearing that even if the situation seems like it is bound to end badly, the result isn't going to be as bad as you think, it may even end with a pretty good result! I am also getting that for some of you, you are going to or are currently facing a tough decision that is making you stressed and anxious, especially if this decision feels really important, I think spirit wants you to follow your heart with this decision. With the King of Swords, I feel like following what seems logical in this may have a more harmful result then you would have liked. But also remember that you have time, with this decision but also just in general. There is time, life feels like it moves very fast but it may help you to take some time to slow down. I am feeling a breeze and I'm seeing you in nature, feeling a nice breeze blow through your hair. You may want to connect with nature more, I am hearing for some of you, you may just need to take a little walk. I feel like for my pile 3's, you may want to be more generous with yourself. If there is something you have been thinking about buying, buy it. If you have something you've felt would be selfish of you, be a little selfish. I think you need to spoil yourself a little more. I am hearing especially going into this new year. Life is too short not to take some risks is what I am hearing. I'm also hearing some of you need to be a little more delusional lmao. Some of yall should listen to some subliminals, this might be a little helpful in some of your situations. I also want my Pile 3s to beware of conflicts with others, I am hearing some of you could be nicer to the people around you or that you may need to work on admitting when you are in the wrong.

Advice Cards:

Control is an illusion. Surrender and allow the Universe to guide you

Align your body, mind, and spirit with your heart

Create a plan and take the first step

It's time to realize the blueprint of your soul

Be aware of your inner messages

Be adventurous. It's time to go for it!

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Page of Swords, Four of Pentacles, The Chariot, The Hanged Man rx, Knight of Swords, Justice rx, Nine of Swords rx, King of Swords Back of the Deck: Nine of Cups

There is a lot of swords energy for this pile! The swords has a lot to do with communication and possible conflicts in that. I think for a good amount of this pile, you guys need to work on how you communicate but mostly with how you communicate with yourself. I feel like you guys may be putting yourself down and saying things to yourself that aren't even true, and some of you even know that they aren't true. You guys need to realize that you are stopping yourself from achieving things, I don't care how many excuses you may have. Some of yall are manifesting and trying to say all the positive affirmations to bring the things you want to life, however you are forgetting that positive affirmations are only a part of manifestation. One of the most important parts is to actually put in the work to get the things you want. The things you want aren't just going to fall into your lap, you need to push yourself and try new things to get what you want, even if it seems scary at first. Like, I feel like you guys may be telling yourself things to delay taking action on your passions and it's not bringing you any closer to your goals. Which is sad because we have the Nine of Cups at the back of the deck, your dreams are a reality and can come true! For some of you I feel like it won't even be that far from you but you are delaying it! I can see the visual of you feeling like you have chains attached to your legs, these chains representing your past, family, doubts, all of it, they feel so heavy and scary. But what you don't realize is that these chains aren't holding you down at all, you have the power to push through and move forward. I am also getting for some of yall, you may have just went through a bad breakup or ended some sort of relationship, take it how it resonates. But I feel like a lot of you are holding onto this person and want some sort of closure from them, and spirit is saying that there just isn't going to be some closure, at least on their end. Sometimes we meet people, and they break our hearts and some people don't have the emotional maturity to deal with it in the rights ways and that person isn't you. It can feel empty and sad not to get closure on some relationships but what's stronger and harder is to know to walk away when things are getting bad. There will be people that come into your life that will treat you better, that person just wasn't that person. You guys need to remember that you are smart and wise and soooo powerful!

Advice Cards:

Hold your life from a sacred viewpoint. Witness the universal picture

The issue at hand is about reflection. What is the mirror showing you?

Put your tasks and goals in order

Something you've planted is coming to harvest. Results are forthcoming!

Boldly imagine what you can do and be

You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded!

Bring something new into your life!

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[flanaganfilm]

Hello and Howdy Mr. Mike Flanagan! I'm excited to see you here on our humble hellsite. I have so much to say and ask about your netflix shows but for the moment, I want to ask about Doctor Sleep because I enjoyed that movie immensely - it filled me with a pleasant sense of dread, which possibly makes no sense, or a lot of sense.

What was that creative process like? Reconciling book and movie canons, following Kubrick's legacy, working with Ewan and Rebecca and Zahn and everyone else. I'm obsessed with King adaptations and I'm just fascinated with Doctor Sleep.

Alright! Buckle up for yet another long read.

Thank you for your question, and for this opportunity to go back and talk about DOCTOR SLEEP. It's a very special film to me, and a very special time in my life as well.

It all started with a general meeting with Jon Berg at Warner Bros.

The meeting itself started pretty wild - Adrien Brody walked out of the office as I was waiting to go in. Jon introduced us and we chatted for a few minutes, and I was a little out of whack for the rest of the meeting because I had a very potent "wow that was Adrien Brody" buzz going.

We were meant to talk about DC Comics and see if there was anything to do there. I was really hoping to chat about a horror-slanted Clayface movie, and about my favorite superhero: Superman.

Neither conversation went very far. I had just finished GERALD'S GAME, and Jon was a King fan, so he asked about the production. And then he asked if I'd ever read Warners' script for DOCTOR SLEEP.

I had. In fact, I had tried very hard to get a meeting at the studio when the book was first published. Warners owned the rights to DOCTOR SLEEP outright - it was part of their deal going all the way back to THE SHINING - so they immediately began looking into movie options when the book was published. Akiva Goldsman had written a script, and it was one of the first projects I asked about when I signed with WME as a client years before. "That isn't going anywhere," they told me. "I don't think that movie gets made."

They had tried to get me the meeting anyway, but no one at Warners responded. I never got in the room.

But now, here I was. What did I have to lose at this point?

"I did read it," I said. "I'd take a different approach." Jon sat back and smiled. "I love the book, Rose is one of the great villains of all time," he said. I agreed. He probed. "What's wrong with the script?"

"I don't think it follows the book closely enough."

"What would you do?"

"I'd do the book. Streamline it, combine some characters, and you'd have to rethink the True Knot a bit. But otherwise, just do the book. As long as it's a three-hander between Danny, Abra and Rose it'll work. With one big asterisk."

"What's that?"

"I think you have to bring back the hotel. Kubrick's hotel, I mean."

Jon smiled wider. "Yeah, it's a bummer the hotel burned down. King goes out of his way at the start of the book to emphasize that - no Overlook, look no further."

This was my biggest gripe with the book.

I said "When I read the book, all I could see was Kubrick's hotel. I think you do the book as close as you possibly can, until the big fight at the end. Instead of it taking place in an empty field, let it be in the hotel."

Jon: "Do you think King will be upset if you change his ending? You know how feels about THE SHINING, right?"

Me: "What if we gave him THAT ending? What if we let Danny have Jack's ending? Jack sacrificed himself to save his family and destroy the Overlook - why not let Danny do that? Change the ending, sure, but give him the ending Kubrick denied him."

We shook hands, and I called my producing partner Trevor Macy to tell him it was a good general, but nothing was coming out of my DC meeting. By the time I'd made it back to my car, though, Jon had reached out to Stephen King and asked if he'd be interested in me taking a swing at it. Steve, who had enjoyed GERALD'S GAME, said yes.

I was immediately petrified when the call came in that they might want to engage me on a rewrite of DOCTOR SLEEP, with a directorial attachment. I'd have to rewrite the script from scratch, and I kind of felt like they were calling my bluff. But the deal was made and quite suddenly I was adapting DOCTOR SLEEP.

First order of business was to make King aware of what I intended to do. I had just established a tentative relationship with my hero over GERALD'S GAME, and the last thing - the very last thing in the world I ever wanted - was to upset him. We weren't in direct communication, we spoke through agents and emails at this point - but I had to make him aware of the Overlook thing.

I put together a proposal that outlined what I wanted to do - use Kubrick's visual language, and keep the Overlook standing as a setting for the final battle. The initial feedback we got was "no." King really, really didn't like Kubrick's film, and his priority was to adapt DOCTOR SLEEP - not to revisit THE SHINING.

I told him that if he didn't want me to do it, I wouldn't - I'd walk away from the movie before I made something he hated. But as a last ditch effort, I said "imagine the Overlook, decrepit and rotten. And imagine Dan Torrance having walk in to 'wake it up,' the lights coming on above his head as he walks the halls. He finds his way to the Gold Room. To the familiar bar, where an empty glass is waiting for him. And we see a familiar bartender ready to pour for him, saying 'good evening Mister Torrance.' What if that bartender is his father?"

After a bit of a delay, King got back to us. "Do it," he said.

Writing the script was tough. I immediately felt like I had stepped into a very unsafe space. "This is going to piss everybody off," I figured. Kubrick fans would be livid that the movie was being made. King fans might be angry that Kubrick's imagery was being homaged. There was no way to please everyone, so I set about writing the movie I wanted to see most.

It was a slightly nauseous feeling that would stay with me until the movie came out.

I sat down to write with a hardcover copy of DOCTOR SLEEP to my right, and a hardcover copy of THE SHINING to my left. I read both cover to cover, sticking post-its throughout the pages with ideas, or flagging lines of dialogue (or even prose) that I wanted to protect. I managed to put together a basic outline for the movie, which was intimidating and sprawling.

I finally finished the draft and sent it off to Warner Bros. and King at the same time. I was shooting THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE at the time, and thought it would take a long while and a few more iterations before SLEEP would go anywhere, if it ever did.

Warner Bros. shocked us all by coming back with a green light. I've been told that it was one of the fastest green lights in the recent history of the studio, and I believe it.

It happened so fast, in fact, that Steve hadn't read the script yet. I got an email from him on a Friday saying "I read the first half, and I absolutely love it - my son's getting married, so I'll pick it up in a week or so and finish it, but great so far!" I was nauseous... because I knew everything that King was likely to hate was in the second half.

When he finally did finish reading it, about a week later, he reached out and said:

"I think it's really good. In my experience, this is the kind of script studios don't make, because it's TOO good. Hopefully I'm wrong. But no matter how it turns out, thanks for treating me so well. - Steve"

I had the distinct pleasure of being able to write him back and tell him that Warner Bros. had just greenlit the movie. And we were off to the races.

The pressure was enormous. They were spending a lot of money on this movie, and because of the insane box office success of IT: CHAPTER ONE, expectations were very high.

We were given access to Kubrick's blueprints for the Overlook hotel set, which were still held at Warner Bros. While we set about rebuilding the sets, our attention turned to casting.

For Dan, we met with a handful of actors: Dan Stevens, Chris Evans, Matt Smith, and Jeremy Renner all came in to chat about the movie. But Ewan McGregor, who himself was eight years sober (just like Dan), was the obvious choice. "Let's not talk about the Shining yet," he said. "I want to talk about recovery." He was the guy.

For Rose the Hat, we talked with several actresses, including Anne Hathaway, Nicole Kidman, and my dear friend Karen Gillan - but Rebecca Ferguson knocked our socks off on a 90-minute zoom meeting, and the part was hers.

Finding Abra Stone was more difficult - we auditioned more than 900 girls for the part. We'd narrowed it down to a half-dozen very promising and successful young actresses, including Lulu Wilson (who I'd worked with several times before and adore), but Kyliegh Curran's self-tape audition rose to the very top of the pile. Ewan flew to Atlanta to read with our final picks, and when Kyliegh - who lived 15 minutes from our office, was local casting, and had never booked a job before - finished reading, he turned to us and said "I mean it's her, right?" It absolutely was.

When we cast her, we invited her back to the office after school one day to get oriented. The crew was so excited for her that they decorated the production office in her honor.

As the rest of the cast fell in, we started doing our camera tests and getting excited about what we were putting together. My feeling over overwhelming nausea only got stronger.

We started shooting in September of 2018. The shoot was long, but never exhausting. The cast and crew were uniformly pleasant and happy to be there, and after the soul-crushing slog that had been THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, it was a relief to enjoy working again.

Kate was pregnant with our daughter Theo at the time. She visited as much as she could, but finally couldn't travel any more. Being away from Kate and our son Cody was hard, but I'm so grateful that we got to share some time on set together.

All things considered, this was a smooth shoot. But something happened for me while we were making it that would change the course of my life forever.

See, THE SHINING is about alcoholism. King wrote it while in the throes of his own addiction, and it is a novel about the anxiety he felt about what he could potentially do to his family if left unchecked. It's one of the reasons he was so upset with Kubrick's adaptation - all of that was taken away. This is a profoundly personal story for King.

When he wrote DOCTOR SLEEP, he was decades sober. The story of DOCTOR SLEEP is the story of recovery. This was something that Ewan knew very well, and why he was perfect for the part. He knew what the journey felt like. He wasn't alone - there were a number of cast and crew members on this shoot that were sober. In fact, just about all of the actors who played main characters were sober. I was still drinking at the time, though it had already become obviously problematic in my life, I hadn't taken any meaningful steps to change it.

This photograph was taken on 10/12/2018. This was taken on the day I got sober. I quit cold turkey, in the middle of production. I was clinging to vices at the time. Note not only the cigarette in my hand (I was smoking almost 2 packs a day), but the ash tray that had been rigged to the top of my viewfinder by the camera department. (I don't smoke anymore either, just about four years without cigs as well... and I still miss them.)

I had been writing about addiction for a decade. It was all over my work, going all the way back to ABSENTIA. I didn't realize just how much I was writing about myself, and I still can't believe it took me this long.

I vividly recall writing the scene between Dan and Jack at the bar. My wife pointed out to me after the fact that she could see it then, that something was changing in me when it came to drinking. Something was waking up, and I was processing a desperate need to sober up. That scene represents an internal conversation that is profoundly personal to me. It's still my favorite scene of the movie.

I've been sober now for over 4 years. DOCTOR SLEEP helped me finally make that decision. I finished the shoot sober, and came home to my life with a lot of uncertainty and insecurity. But with the unflinching support of my incredible wife, and some amazing friends, my life started to really blossom. It was pretty immediately evident that this was one of the best decisions I'll ever make.

Meanwhile, though, I had to finish DOCTOR SLEEP.

I LOVED the movie we'd made, but I was still terrified of what King would think of it - not to mention Kubrick's estate.

When we finished the cut, I flew to Bangor to screen the finished film for Steve. It was the first I'd meet him in person, and one of the most insanely exciting and humbling days of my life.

We watched the movie together, and I was acutely aware of each and every little reaction he had throughout.

(With Trevor Macy, my producing partner at Intrepid)

When the show as over, Steve turned to me and said "You did a beautiful job." And ultimately, he added that this film had made him warm up to the Kubrick movie as well.

A week later, we heard from Kubrick's estate that they had also loved the movie.

With King's blessing, and Kubrick's family, I felt that nausea finally subside. I said to Kate, "that's it. That's all that matters. Doesn't matter if the movie crashes and burns - we already won the important battle."

And then, the movie crashed and burned.

A group of us went to see it opening night at Arclight Hollywood (my favorite theater). We were just about the only people there. And I knew immediately that we were going to have a bad weekend.

The movie didn't perform very well. Warner Bros. was disappointed, and ended up scrapping the Dick Hallorann movie we were planning, as well as the Overlook Hotel prequel.

I was pretty crest-fallen. I'd spent years tossing and turning over whether audiences would be divided between the King and Kubrick camps. I'd been petrified that they'd be furious, venomous, run me out on a rail... I'd never considered that they'd be utterly disinterested. Apathy wasn't even on my radar.

Steve called me the Monday after opening weekend with some words of encouragement. "I remember when THE SHINING bombed," he said. "And SHAWSHANK. Give it some time. It'll find its audience. It's a really good movie."

That has turned out to be true. While it didn't set the world on fire theatrically, the movie has over-performed on VOD and streaming. And when Warner Bros. released the Directors Cut (I'm still so grateful that they did that), it popped even more.

So yes, to answer your question - the pressures were enormous. I hope this paints a little picture of what it was like. The biggest gift I got out of it, though, was sobriety.

I reached out to King a year later, on my first sober birthday. I hadn't told him I was sober, but it felt like time to do it. I got to thank him. "I never told you this, but I sobered up while we were shooting DOCTOR SLEEP, and I don't think I would have done it without your words. Living in that story, and marinading in the concepts of recovery and redemption made it possible. I just want to thank you."

He wrote back his congratulations, and then mentioned "as it happens, I'm off to celebrate 30 years myself. It only gets better and better."

And he is absolutely right.

DOCTOR SLEEP was the perfect project for me after the nightmare that was HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. I fell in love with making movies again. And I found a new and wonderful gear for my life. It has only made everything better - my marriage, my work, my experience walking around on planet earth. I'm so grateful for it.

When I think of DOCTOR SLEEP, I think of Ewan sitting at the bar and looking at the glass in his hand. "Man takes a drink, drink takes a drink... and then the drink takes the man. Ain't it so, dad."

Ewan understood those words better than I did when I typed them into the script. I understand them much better now.

There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not profoundly grateful for my time at the Overlook. And for myriad of ways my life has been changed because of it.

[dotster001]

Hi lovely! May I ask for the twisted wonderland dorm leaders reaction to piercings. (Nipples, septum, lip, industrial, bridge etc))

A/N: I wasn't sure if you meant on reader or them....so I did all of the above! Hopefully I hit what you were looking for 😂

3k masterlist

CW: religious fear in Riddle's part, but it's an if you know you know kind of thing 😂 😭

 In general, Riddle will always start out as anti piercing. His mother raised him that piercings are from the devil (or the devil equivalent in twst) and should be ever pierce his body with a needle, he would be thrown in the fiery flames for all eternity. So…he's anti piercing

That said, if he had to pick one he wanted, he'd go for a navel piercing. That way, the gods (and his mother) would never know he had it. He'd probably go for a simple ruby.

He doesn't react too much to piercings on other people. He just never thinks about it, even though he's always thinking about it for himself. So your piercings wouldn't phase him.

He's simplistic. A favorite piercing he'd have for you, is a simple nose stud. Maybe a ruby to match his hypothetical navel stud.

I'm totally blanking on what he looks like, but if he doesn't have piercings now, he will as soon as he's out of the public eye. Once Cheka is of age, he knows no one will care about the "delinquent second born" and he's free to do what he wants without judgment.

He'd go for a single stud on one side, a nose ring, a navel ring, and probably one lip piercing so that it glitters when he smirks.

He doesn't care if you have piercings. Obviously, it's sexy as hell if you do, but whatever, it's your life.

His favorite on you is, surprisingly, a basic earring. He likes to gently pull them with his teeth when he's feeling particularly flirty or needy.

He won't have piercings ever. It would affect his businessman facade. That said….if he ever got a piercing, he would want a single dangle earring so he can match the twins. Maybe a conch shell?

Another one who doesn't mind it on you. And his favorite one you? Tongue piercing. Not that he'll ever admit it…because it's his favorite due to him liking the feel against his tongue when your tongue is down his throat…the taste of iron filling his senses along with your signature smell….ahem. He uh he means he likes a typical earring on you. yup yup.

Pierced everywhere. He likes shiny things. There was no stopping him.

He would like you pierced top to bottom, so that he can shower you in even more gold and jewels. He loves to see you shimmer, and hear you jangle. Piercings just add to it. 

But if he had to choose a favorite spot, it's regular lobe and cartilage piercings on your ears. Then he can still see the shimmer 😁 he loves to decorate along your ears with chains and jewels, thinks it's so pretty

He has regular ear piercings. I'm sorry, a man who looks that hot in red heels is ready to wear a set of pearl drop earrings at a moments notice. He's modeled a hundred sexy looks in those hypothetical earrings, and you can't tell me otherwise. Maybe he takes them out for school so that when his fellow students decide to get in a fight, he doesn't have to hand them to Rook Everytime.

He wants you in pearl earrings to….just saying. He thinks you'll be so pretty, so professional, with a set of pearls; pearl choker, pearl bracelet, pearl earrings (does this feed into his desire to dress you like a doll? Maybe)

Out of everyone, he's the one who would get nipple piercings. Probably after watching some anime where the tough guy had gold nipple hoops. Subtle but enough of a character design that Idia snuck past Ortho to go get some himself.

He's gonna think any piercings you have are sexy. Nipple piercings? Bad ass. Navel? Show him that tummy. Lip piercing? Kiss him. I mean what?

Man wears black classy earrings. Doesn't really branch out, but that's fine. He looks hot.

He loves if you have piercings. It adds to his delusions about you, like "look at my rebellious little human". Mal Mal, it's just a nose ring? It's a common piercing in many cultures? Not a big deal? He's never gonna hear you over his delusions, babe

His fave on you? Navel and nipple. Because our Victorian man thinks seeing either is such a scandalous treat, and sends a thrill down his spine. Such intimate places, and he gets to see them! How thrilling! Humans are so brave these days!

[thatdeadaquarius]

Genshin Sagau (?) Isekai Brainrot - Language

I've seen like ONE small kinda related Genshin Sagau/isekai idea for this but I wanted more of it so BAD

It’s not the most interesting thing in the world, it’s about our modern vernacular vs. Teyvat's flowery speech

Pls feel free to expand on or add to this pLEASE TAG ME IF U DO IM STARVING OUT HERE :)))

So I saw someone write like one sentence abt this (can’t remember who :( sorry I’ll update if I find them ) or like a brutally honest version??

But I also took inspo from how fucking wordy and long conversations that are in Genshin, even with ppl like Xiao (the rude boy that he is) or even Tighnari who gets to the point pretty quickly

It goes smth like:

So, all of Teyvet, (esp ppl like Zhongli 💀 u know the ones) talk,, flowery.

Like, the whole Pride and Prejudice style speaking, euphemisms, metaphors, for some characters (or Npcs) its full on POETRY. 

Lookin’ at you Kazuha.

.

And going off of any variation of you being the Creator, (or otherwise an older mythical being?), they could have this thing where the older a deity/mythical thingy is, the simpler the speech. 

Kinda makes sense to them y’know? The older beings are serious, commanding, intimidating

And nothing says "I'm ancient as fuck and powerful as fuck" like simple blunt speech.

And being closer to the literal creation of the world, language would understandably be less complex (I’m assuming it’s the same as in human cultures in our world's history)

Like literally look at our fantasy typical stories, plenty of them have a dragon or ancient god that speaks in extremes, like so flowery its a metaphor, or so bluntly its startling (ie, "Be not afraid." "I am all powerful." etc etc)

And so, ancient powerful being = direct/blunt speech

..

…

...Y'know,, almost like our modern vernacular.

Like, part of some of our modern day comedy is purely based on a sentence being delivered bluntly for impact

Hell our ads and videos and content in general we always want to get to the point, to say things simply

So with this in mind, even if you try to deny being the Creator, they might still think you are, or at least a more minor ancient deity/creature

 .

(like the Seven Sovereigns/Phanes/Shades/etc. for example would sound eerily modern or at least easy for you to understand bc of this trait lol)

(Also I'm just assuming u know Genshin lore enough to know what I meant by that ^)

____

So, I love the AU where you just,, hitch a ride with the traveler like Paimon bc u start at the "beginning of the game",

And with every person you meet, you're like, "Ok, no, I promise this is just how my country/world speaks, it's not like that, I'm not some ancient deity…" 

And They're all like 🤨🤨🤨 "Well, fine traveler and companions, why does your speech sound so simplistic and sharp? Surely, you do not expect me to truly believe you.."

You: "Please I just talk like this, I'm a regular human."

Them: "Alright, if it is as you say,, you wish to not experience being "known" yes? Fear not, I will keep your secrets close to my chest."

You: "No, for the last time, that's not-" 

.

And it just keeps happening, lol

.

(srry I tried my best at emulate Genshin language + flowery speech idk how to do it)

.

Like maybe you would just sound weird or like a foreigner speaking y’know in simpler sentences bc they don't know the language as well as native speakers, at least that could be how you sound to NPCs and ppl who don’t know abt simpler speech meaning

.

...But the Adepti? Zhongli?? Barbatos maybe??? Even the Aranara??? Those who are old enough to maybe have heard how older beings speak or at least have knowledge of how they should speak/sound??

You couldn’t have predicted how shocked their faces were the second you opened you’re mouth… 

Sumeru scholars would freak tf out i stg, as soon as you meet Haypasia, she's already losing it, first the Irminsul progress, now this ancient being/Creator?? Girlie thinks its a sign lmao

.

(I’m an Aether lover, and also bc I think Lumine looks badass as Abyss ruler, so I’m gonna go with Aether for traveler sorry Lumine mains love yall T-T)

.

You, and Aether being equally confused at first pLEASE 😭 

lets say he speaks a little more fluffy than you at least, after all I’m assuming bc of the outfit that he’s from a fantasy-like place, and his replies can be a little fluffy like Teyvat’s residents, so he kinda fits in, kinda like everybody assumes he's just from another country when he gets to a new nation (at least that’s what I think happens??)

.

Like after (maybe Diluc?) Lisa, Kaeya, Venti, and Jean (who I think would all be knowledgeable, thru diff means, about this enough to maybe recognize the simpler speech = ancient god thing)

ALL reacted shocked as hell at hearing you talk, and would probably explain (or Paimon before then?) in that infuriatingly roundabout way, that you would usually skip a couple dialogue boxes just to avoid bc yOU ALREADY GOT THE POINT or alternatively WHATS THE POINT HERE?? JUST SAY IT, WHATS THE COMMISSION/QUEST FOR/WHAT DO I DO??

(Those blue highlights be savin my impatient life, and i actually like lore stuff 💀)

.

Oh that’s also another frustration. For you.

.

It would drive me crazy if I had to wait like,, 2-3 minutes for ppl to explain what they ate for dinner or sm shit

Like, now imagine that’s everyone, about everything.

You don’t know how anything gets done in battles or wars, like you need faster communication for that right??💀

.

Anyway, you, Aether and Paimon decide you just gotta not talk when you first meet people or like,, make sure you're gonna be around that person for a while so you don’t have to possibly get someone over the shock of your speech every time you guys talk to people 😭 that'd be so miserable I can already tell,,

Like at first, every convo ya’ll have had with people who recognize that direct speech trait as a thing, would take at least 10 minutes to finish talking about it/being shocked,,

It got so old so fast.

.

(Like I already can’t communicate that good with ppl irl bc I misunderstand them, or they do me, or they just dont get what I mean, and as my friends put it, which I think would fit here for any language shenanigans we go thru in Teyvat, "A Shakespearean level of misunderstanding, hilarious but such a downward spiral to watch, it just gets more and more ridiculous as it goes on...")

.

On another note, making fun of someone would be so fucking funny,

I’d like to give myself the benefit of the doubt that many characters, after getting used to your speech, would generally understand you (even if they always notice it, like an accent) and would actually rlly love hearing insults or even just generally how you would put things

(like maybe treating this almost like those vids of ppl with non-native english speaknig relatives/parents and its the most hilarious thing to watch them, usually get pissed 😭, at their kid, if u dont know what I mean look up on tiktok or smth)

And You just come off like those insults where you dont even use cuss words, you just like, drag queen read them into never showing their face again, and you did it in so few words!! 

They're amazed and oh, 

you've become the John Mulaney of Teyvat 

(Bad examples include:

Fontaine inventor: "...And I shall call my invention, crocks!"

You: "I wouldn't even be cremated in those." ) 

*Aether crying laughing in the background bc he never knows what you’re gonna say next, and Paimon's jaw dropped so hard

JFC this post is so long sorry, I probably will spam with a Part 2 but let me know if you’re interested in hearing more anyway!!

Thanks for reading this rambling!!

Or send in asks abt this 👀

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[hecatesbroom]

One of the things that really gets me about Hardy and Miller's relationship in Broadchurch is how much the respect they have for each other shows in how they physically interact. Even when they're not particularly pleased with each other/the situation.

I mean, I think the fact that they don't sleep together even though there was plenty of incentive for the showwriters to add that in (the drama!!) says something already, but that's not what I'm talking about.

It's the little things. It's the fact that they barely touch at all even though Ellie seems to be pretty comfortable with physical contact -- whether it's meant to be affectionate or comforting or both. But Hardy isn't, and because Ellie's a pretty intuitive person she never attempts to touch him the way she would others.

And we see Hardy, in his turn, go out of his way to attempt to physically comfort her when he sees she needs support. The careful hand he puts on her shoulder when she finds out about Joe and the way he lingers a bit after that to see if she needs a shoulder to lean on.

Or the time he asks her if she wants a hug after the trial, because he knows she's the type of person to want a hug while going through something like that, but she declines because she knows he's not the type of person to go around offering hugs. That's the scene that really shows how much they've come to understand each other, I think: Hardy is willing to step outside his own comfort zone if he thinks it'll make her feel better -- he's willing to adapt for her because at this point they respect each other enough that things like this don't feel like an obstacle he can't overcome -- and she's unwilling to accept his offer, because it's not an olive branch or him warming up, but rather than that he's offering up a piece of his own comfort to make her feel better. And Ellie, who is generally too nice to allow people to do that, respects him too much to let him do so. Besides, I'm sure she'd just feel weird about it at this point.

Then at the end of season 2, when Hardy leaves and Ellie is there to say goodbye, it seems almost inevitable that they loop back to episode 1 and do hug this time. But instead Ellie extends a hand, and Hardy is almost surprised she doesn't hug him, maybe he's even a little disappointed (because that's what people do in these situations, right? Hug to say goodbye?). And in a sense we get an exact replay of the first episode, only now Ellie is offering Alec what she thinks he needs, whereas first he offered her what he thought she needed.

And maybe they were both a bit wrong, but only because they've come to respect each other's boundaries enough to make that careful miscalculation. And maybe they wouldn't have been wrong, maybe Ellie did want that hug and Alec did prefer the handshake, but only because the other was kind enough to offer exactly that to them, did they want the alternative -- to show their gratitude by shaping the situation to another's comfort, instead.

[theresattrpgforthat]

@alizarinessence thank you for your patience as I took my time to respond to you! PbtA games can be pretty daunting, and I certainly didn't understand how the play flow was supposed to work at first. I personally learned through trial and error, as well as watching other GMs who had figured it out - I am blessed to have a friend who is very experienced in running PbtA games so I was able to play in some of his games and ask him questions.

That being said, there have been a few things that I've also found helpful that I can refer to you, so I'm going to put them up here.

The Flow Chart

This flow chart was originally posted in a Dungeon World reddit post, and later referred to me when I started asking for PbtA advice. You'll likely see a similar flow chart in Apocalypse Keys, where Rae Nedjadi illustrates how a typical session of play is likely to look like.

In any given PbtA game, you as a GM are going to be presenting pieces of information to the players, just as you would in any other ttrpg. PbtA codifies this information as "moves," and each game will present you with information that is considered useful for the kind of story that it is design to tell.

In Masks, the players are teenage superheroes, so the game encourages the GM to introduce facts such as "civilians are in danger" or "your dad thinks you're being irresponsible."

In The Ward, the players are medical doctors in an Emergency Ward, so the game advises the GM to introduce truths such as "a patient's condition is worsening" or "someone's dad is fighting with a nurse in another room."

This reinforces the common maxim that the game is a conversation, a cycle of presenting new information, letting players decide what they want to do with that information, and making a roll if the fiction calls for it. This is a rather simplified cycle of course - the "see what happens" sections may include moments when players may jump in with their own characters' reactions, generating more events that the GM doesn't need to add to in order to make them interesting. Many PbtA games thrive off of player conflict, which can occupy the table for a couple of hours without the GM needing to add anything (Last Fleet is a good example of this kind of play.)

Listening to Others

Listening to other people play PbtA games can give you a sense of how the game is meant to feel, especially when the GM's and players take their time to talk through their moves and how they work.

I found Monster Hour to be exceptionally helpful; they started out as a Monster of the Week podcast, and even though I've never run MotW specifically, listening to Quinn talk the players through how to ask questions or use different moves made the game very easy for me to understand.

Joining a Community

Joining a community that loves a specific PbtA game, or PbtA games in general can be very helpful when seeking out advice. The PbtA Discord channel has a number of players and designers, who have a lot of game experience and are more than happy to dish out advice.

Start With Games That Have Guide-Rails

Not all PbtA games are created equal, and while the original spirit of the game was to make sure you didn't plot out a story-line, there's still some games that have a certain amount of prep that will give you the tools you need to gain confidence as a GM. Here's some of my favourites:

Visigoths vs. Mall Goths can be played as a one-shot, and doesn't require players to make a lot of decisions when putting their characters together. It has a number of scenarios that you can throw at your players, a mapped-out mall with details on all of the NPCs (and whether or not you can flirt with them), and some pretty hard limitations on what you can and cannot do. You can't leave the mall, for example - go through an exit on one side of the mall and you'll just pop back in on the other. You can visit the stores throughout the day, but each team of players can only go to so many places before the mall is closed for the day, therefore bringing the mission to a close.

Apocalypse Keys has a game structure that looks daunting but can be broken down into steps, and also comes with pre-written scenarios as well as instructions on how to create your own. The concept is pretty straightforward - you're solving a mystery, and you need to do it before one of the Doors of the Apocalypse is opened. This puts the game on a timer, which helps GMs keep their players on task, and also provides the Game Master with a list of clues to drop into the story as the players look for them. I've heard very good things about how Brindlewood Bay, which inspired some of the mechanics in Apocalypse Keys, makes itself easy to run for new GMs, so if you can get your hands on that book, you might find it helpful!

Last Fleet is laser-focused on a very specific premise - you are humans, in space, running away from a terrible and insidious threat. What is more, this threat has the ability to infiltrate your fleet. The laser-focus brings everyone at the table to the same page pretty quickly, and the setting includes a mounting pressure track that will make sure things keep happening, so as the person running the game, you won't have to do much after you set up the initial scenario. The game also comes with some really good advice on where you want to start with your players, to make sure they're on edge, but not fully panicking yet. Then you just need to tip the scales enough to cause them to ask questions, make questionable choices, and start a series of actions that snowball into catastrophe.

Wrapping Up

This is all the advice I have for stepping into PbtA, but more than anything, I recommend just diving in and giving it a go! As with any GM-ing endeavour, you will likely walk away from your first session with a list of things that you'll want to do differently the next time around, but that's just a sign that you're learning.