#then I began work on my portfolio

[blaithnne]

boobtina beakley

[jupipedia]

smile for the camera ! — choso. ↳ ❝ baby she look like a star, but only on camera. ❞ ↳ content warnings : nsfw ( minors do not interact ! ), guys THERE'S A PLOT, supermodel + photographer!choso x actress + supermodel!reader, black!reader, pleasuredom!choso, ( consensual ) explicit photography, praise, body worship, fingering ( f. receiving ), public sex ( in a studio ), exhibitionism, cunnilingus, cum play (?), unprotected sex ( no cream🥧s tho), pet names, overstim ( funny how she's always here 😅 ), not beta read.

choso posed in a seated position in front of several cameras, eyes having grown used to the constant exposure to the blinding flashes. despite his stoic and professional actions, he found himself to be in a bit of a predicament as he was instructed to hold your thigh that was placed over his shoulder with your heel resting on his thigh, his head leaning close to your core. it wasn't supposed to be arousing and he knew that if he was paired with any other model, he wouldn't be the slightest bit bothered.

but it was you.

he's known you for a while, almost as long as you've been in the modeling scene. you ran in similar social groups, have been to each other's places, and have done group and paired shots in the past. he'd consider the two of you to be a little close than friends after one or two substance infused hook ups, so that did nothing but enhance his current arousal.

he also a man, known to be a lustful creature when in the presence of the preferred gender. he can't help but to be little turned on when he has a beautiful woman so close to him that he can feel your body heat. you had on a pair of figure-fitting slacks and a blouse paired with the tightest vest that he'd ever seen and it looked great on you.

and maybe, just maybe, he had a little crush on you.

"we wanna get a few more close shots before wrapping up. could you two do a few poses from earlier? keep your heads relatively close though," the main photographer asked, motioning for you to get closer to each other. you nodded and removed your leg from its' position, prompting choso to remove his hand and take a deep breath to relieve his nerves.

you took a seat next to choso and shuffled close. you decided to rest your head on his shoulder, craning your neck to a semi natural position before giving your attention to the camera men. the two of you adjusted as they gave directions before changing to a standing pose. choso's arm was firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to his as you looked to the side, giving the camera a clear view of your side profile. both of your hands rested on his shoulder as he kept facing forward, posing effortlessly.

it was smooth sailing until the photographer asked the two of you to make eye contact, your eyes meeting his dark ones. a familiar stir occurred in your stomach as you held the eye contact, his eyes darkening as your lips separated.

"good! great! okay, let's get the two of you changed and you're free to go. you guys did great as always. it's always a pleasure working with the two of you," the photographer speaks as the set begins to pack up.

"it's great working with you, too. i'll see you next time, yeah?" you responded, starting to undo the first few buttons of the vest as you walk to the dressing room. choso averted his eyes out of respect, but couldn't help as his mind wandered, imagining what you had on underneath.

"i'll see you soon," he tells the photographer before trailing after you. he caught a few knowing looks as he began to follow you and huffed out in amusement. "y/n, i have a favor to ask really quick."

"what can i do for you, handsome?" you turned back to him, vest fully undone along with a few of your blouse buttons. he smiled at the nickname as you wiggled your eyebrows, jokingly flirting with the man.

"i'm working on a few things for my portfolio and wanted know if you were free to do a few shots. i can give you more details if you're interested," he explained, looking down at you.

you shrugged. "i'm pretty free this week. just give me a time and place and i'll be there. hopefully, you'll send me a few so that i can post them and show the world how good you are."

choso blushed from the compliment. "i'm alright," he said coyly, turning away from your praise.

"you're better than okay. text me the details, pretty boy," you turned on your heels and complete your trek to your dressing room, leaving choso to look after you with a dopey smile.

yeah, he's got it bad.

you showed up to the studio as choso instructed, dressed as casual as you'd allow when you intended to take pictures. you were a bit earlier that original planned but choso was already there, telling you to come upstairs to the space he rented.

"hello, hello, hello," you announced your presence with a knock as you opened the door. choso was turned away from the door and towards the backdrop, leaning over his laptop as he edited a few pictures.

"hey," he greeted, quickly glancing over his shoulder as you walked to him. he did a double take as he noticed your outfit, heat rushing to his face and groin. "you look good."

"always do," you grinned, sitting your bag next to his laptop before leaning against the table. "so, what's on the agenda, cutie?"

"straight to business, i see. no time for chit chat?" choso joked, picking up his camera.

"what can i say? i'm a serious person," you said, shrugging with a playful smile before looking at his laptop. you moved to the gap between him and his laptop, bending a little to examine his work. "dude, you should really start commissioning. you're really fucking good at this shit."

"i'm still doing some portfolio building before i get to that point. i been doing a few shoots to prep for commissions, but nothing crazy."

"stop being so coy and start own up to the fact that you're not only a stellar model, you're also a really good photographer," you said, pushing away from the laptop and turning to face him. you could feel his breath tickle your lips before he smiled boyishly and moved back. "so, how do you want me, boss?"

"we're just doing a few natural shots, i need a few headshots and, well, you're beautiful so we'll take a few of those too. nothing too fancy," he explained after a few beats of silence, ushering you over to the backdrop. "you can start posing however you want."

you nodded and did as he instructed, immediately doing a few of your signature poses before trying a few new ones. there were a few natural shots where he complimented you and captured your dopey smile or when you started dancing slightly to the music he was playing.

"could i get one of you glancing over your shoulder?" he asked, squatting a bit to get a change of angle. you nodded and posed as he said. he took a singular shot before he lowered his camera, squinting slightly at your shoulder.

"something wrong?" you asked, turning to face forward.

"is that a new tattoo?" he asked, approaching you. he lightly pushed your curls from your shoulder to uncover said tattoo.

"it is. i've gotten a few since the last time you saw me. they're pretty inconspicuous though," you shrugged. you moved your curls even more to reveal the tattoo behind your ear. "this one is fairly new, too. i got it like two months ago?"

there was a heavy silence that filled the room as choso took a step closer, your bodies pressing against each other as he examined your tattoos.

he couldn't lie, the tattoos added to your attractiveness. he already knows that you aren't a pussy when it comes to needles as you have multiple piercing in your ears and a nose piercing, but the tattoos were different. sure they weren't that noticeable, but now that he knew they were there, that was all he could see.

"got any more?" he asked, voice huskier and breath tickling your ear. you shivered slightly, leaning back and resting your back on his front.

"wanna find out?" you asked, turning your head to come face to face with the man. choso didn't offer a response as he leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. your head was pushed back by the force of this kiss but you quickly returned with fervor, turning in his arms and wrapping yours around his neck. choso hummed into the kiss, using your change in position as an opportunity to pull your body closer to his. there wasn't even room to pull apart for air as he moved his hand to cup your neck, deepening the kiss.

choso was the first to pull away, lungs screaming for air as his heavy breathing mixed with yours. the two of you maintained eye contact as you caught your breath before scrambling to strip, your skirt landing on one side of the studio and choso's shirt on the other. you sat on the floor, watching as he removed his pants.

instead of returning his lips to yours, choso decided to suckle on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys as he descended to your breast.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," choso mumbles on your sternum. he pulls back to take in your naked image, your chest rising and falling as you inhaled. you shivered under his gaze, exposed to him without the effects of alcohol calming your nerves. his hands roamed your torso, occasionally groping a bit of pudge before caressing a new spot. one of his hands slid lower, heading towards your pussy. you were dripping and he's barely touched you.

as his hand traveled, his mouth found it's way to your breasts, deciding to peck and nibble on your areola before wrapping his lips around your nipple. your back arched with a moan as he firmly sucked on your nipple. his wandering hand found its way in between your folds, collecting the wetness on his thick fingers. he rolled your clit between his knuckles, causing you to squeal at the slight pinch. he removed his lips from one nipple and moved to the other, showing it the same attention that he gave the other.

"c-choso, please," you whined out. his deft fingers continued their ministrations, but you craved more. you want to feel more of him, all of him.

"i got you, gorgeous. i just need you to relax for me," he pulled away from your hardened peak as he spoke. he stared at you for a few more moments, trying to memorize the sight before an idea struck him. he reach over for he camera, glancing at you to read your expression. "do you trust me?"

your head swirled as you focused on the camera in his hand. on one hand, it was risky. it was less about how much you trusted choso and more about how easily someone could leak them if he uploaded them to his laptop. it would also mean you'd be vulnerable, all of you on display for him to capture.

on the other hand, it was thrilling. you couldn't help but attempt to clench your thighs at the thought of him using the pictures as fap material. you could feel the heat rush to your core when he picked up the camera, knowing what he was going to ask. you trusted him, he was always genuine and kind hearted, even in moments where he didn't need to be.

"yeah," you muttered out. choso gave you a small smile at your response before holding his camera up, giving you a few seconds before taking the first picture. you tried to appear as relaxed as possible, suppressing your nerves and jitters. he took a few before handing it to you. you looked at him, surprising and confusion swimming in your eyes.

"it's only fair if you get to take a few," choso said, deciphering your confusion. he didn't say much of anything else, choosing to resume his ministrations. he continued his trail of kisses, stopping at your mound. he left wet, sloppy kisses on your skin, looking at you through his eyelashes as he continued his descend. he settled between your thighs, anklet dangling next to his head as he lowered his mouth to you dripping heat. you let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue grazing your twitching clit.

you looked at the camera in your hands, mustering up the strength to hold yourself up long enough to take a photo. the sight of him gazing up at you through his eyelashes was sinful.

almost as if the flash of the camera was all the approval that he needed, he began to run his tongue through your folds, circling your entrance a few times before taking another languid swipe. his arms wrapped around your hips, effortlessly pulling you closer to his mouth. he was devouring you, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal and his saliva. your moans egged him on as he suckles at the spots that made you louder.

"fuck! choso, please- ah!" you yelped as you felt his fingers begin to prod at your entrance. the feeling of his thick fingers stretching out your tight cunt had your eyes rolling back. your legs twitched around his head as he continued to pleasure you, pushing his fingers in deeply before dragging them out. a familiar heat pooled in your stomach, signalling the approach of your climax.

"gonna cum for me, doll?" he said, angling his fingers just enough to graze your g-spot. you clenched around his long digits, hands shooting for the loose bun sitting on the crown of his head. "soak my fingers f'me. you can do it."

his words paired with the constant stimulation of your pleasure point sent you hurtling towards your first orgasm. you wailed, legs quivering around choso's head as helped you ride out your orgasm.

"choso, 'm sensitive, no more," you pleaded out as he continued his ministrations, mouth and fingers never leaving your core. your hips bucked and your hands weaved through his hair, the bun long undone due to your pulling.

"can you give me another one, sweetness? i know you can," he muttered into your pussy, the vibrations causing your toes to curl out of overstimulation. you couldn't tell if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer but you had no time to decide as a second orgasm began to wash over you so quick that you couldn't even register the build up.

"that's it, baby. fuck, you soaked my fingers," choso groans out, pulling his fingers from your sensitive core and licking them clean of your slick. "hmm, you've got the sweetest pussy."

choso grabbed his camera from your hands, taking this opportunity to capture your blissed out state. your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch you breath and unblur your vision. a few of your curls stuck your forehead and you knew you lipstick was smeared as the red pigment lingered on choso lips.

"gonna let me feel you, beautiful? gonna be good for me and let me fuck you, hmm?" choso asked, aligning his leaking cock with your entrance. choso tapped your clit with his cock a few times as he waited for your response.

"please fuck me. please, i wan' it," you whined, bucking your hips towards his cock. you dragged your pussy against against his shaft, moan as his tip caught your entrance. his hips bucked, pushing into you without warning. choso groans deeply, placing his arms next to your head as he pushed into your heat. your breaths mingled, faces only a few inches apart.

choso basked in your moans, pushing one of your legs up to deepen his strokes and pull those sinful harmonies from your lips. your arms roped around choso's neck, pulling him down to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss. he swallowed your whimpers and moans, his deep strokes jerking your body from the force. his tongue rubbed against your own, allowing you to taste the heady flavor of your cunt.

"look at you," choso remarked, pulling away from the kiss to observe you. "you're taking me so well, baby. every time i pull out, she sucks me right back in. you're so pretty all fucked out f'me."

you were reduced to moans and whimpers, not being able to form a coherent phrase. he could tell that your shaking babbles were you calling out his name, crying out for the relentless pleasure. he felt you twitch around his cock, indicating your approaching orgasm. your volume raised, jumbled pleas falling from your lips as you begged for your release. he answered wordlessly, his hand returning to toy with you clit.

he continued his strokes after your brutal release, chasing his own and your final one. your hands found purchase on his wrists, squeezing it as you cunt was overworked. choso groans now held a whine edge as he approached his climax. he whimpered your name, lost in your warm vice.

you felt like you were on fire. your back ached from the hard floor and the force of his thrust. your legs burned, hamstrings taut from stretching your legs around choso's large frame. your brown skin glistened with sweat from the erotically warm room. your lungs burned and your throat was sore from the pleading, not even thinking to control your volume in a public space.

"ah, ch-choso! 's so much, mm! i can't-ah!" you squeak out, feeling the pressure pool in your stomach. choso leaned down toward your ear, your leg hitting your chest as he moved.

"you can. you're so pretty when you cum for me. you're twitching so cutely around me. you wanna cum f'me, baby? hmm, you wanna make a mess on my cock? go ahead, pretty girl. cum for me," choso whispered, breath tickling your lobe. you moaned out, not being able to properly respond as your orgasm crashed over you. you creamed on choso cock, body vibrating from the immense pleasure. choso choked on a moan, thrusting a few more times before pulling out, cumming on your chest and stomach. he groaned, noticing how a drops of his cum landed on your chin.

the two of you stayed on your position on the floor, mulling over what just happened. you nudged choso with your foot and he looked at you, breathless. you motioned to his camera and he understood, taking a shot of your body covered in his release before passing it to you. you took your own photo of his lipstick covered face, eyes still swimming with lust as his hands gripped at the fat of your thighs.

"you got a lil' something," you pointed to choso mouth. he wiped his lip with his thumb, seeing the lipstick stain on his thumb.

"yeah, so do you," he joked, motioning to the drops of cum on your chin. you wiped your chin, bringing your finger up to you mouth to taste his release. choso groaned at the sight and turn his head away, trying to prevent his cock from hardening.

"you should let me take you out to dinner," choso said, back to his timid ways as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"i've been waiting for you to ask me out for a month. we're gonna be a lot more than dinner," you giggled, pulling yourself up to him and connecting your lips once more.

© JUPIPEDIA. all rights reserved.

[love2poetry]

loml

⤷ mcu!peter parker x artsy!reader

𝜗𝜚. . . synopsis. you are both peter's love and loss of his life

𝜗𝜚. . . general tag. mostly fluff & some angst

.ᐟ. . . content warnings. if you see any grammar mistakes, keep them to yourself pls thx<3 might be cringe tbh

♫⋆｡ our field of dreams, engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and i'll still see it until i die, you're the loss of my life

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ sophia's letter ! i wrote this as it's raining and can you guess what scented candle i have lighting? 😝 anyway i went through a depressive episode for no reason so i took a hiatus, but i might be back for the summer. i often go through another one when school starts so im gonna do the most now. i was thinking of making a part two for this using 'peter' but idk. anyway, HIIII NEW GRACIE ALBUM THIS WEEK RAGHH

prequel

wc. 1,926

spring had just began, more warm days after months of freezing cold weather. today, however, seemed to be one of the few cold, rainy days february had left. you had finished homework earlier today, always wanting to have your weekends free as much as you can, so you decided to occupy your mind with something else more calming. 

after finishing the last of your ap psychology assignment, you walked to your kitchen and made yourself a quick matcha. as you measured the green powder into your cat mug - a lovely gift peter got you because one of the cats in the bug is a calico, like your own cat - a thud was heard from your room. it was followed by an 'ow' quickly after, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

peter.

at the sudden noice, autumn, your calico cat, run cautiously out of your room. after finishing your matcha with some creamer, you also walked to your room. 

peter looked towards the door upon sensing you. his spidey sense usually only triggered when danger was near, however, when it came to you, peter was able to feel you. he couldn't describe it, but there was something in you that made him feel safe. it was a warm feeling that ran down his spine, and maybe it was because he was in your room, but he could also smell the vanilla lotion you love to use. everything about you made him feel like he was engulfed by a soft blanket.

so it was no surprise that the first thing peter did was offer you a smile. you automatically smile back of course. how could you not when he looks at you like that, like he was going to somehow bring you the moon he often photographed because it made him think of you. 

'it's raining,' peter pointed with a boyish grin. the obvious pitter patter coming from your windows made you tilt your head playfully. 'you don't say.'

peter patrolled the streets of new york everyday as his alter ego, spider-man. but on days like this, he likes to use the weather as an excuse to come see you earlier instead. he has a build in heater in his suit of course, but in his opinion it doesn't work as well as a good cuddling season with you.

peter sets his masks down on your night stand. 'cuddles?'

you took a sip of your matcha as you walked to your desk. 'i have to work on my portfolio.' you heard him walk to your dresser that sat on the corner of your room where you had a drawer with his clothes to change to after patrol. 'i thought you were done with it?' 

'yea, it's just,' your fingers glossed over your sketches. junior year was ending and soon college applications will start. it had been your dream to attend the art school of chicago, and now that applications are around the corner, you want to make sure everything is perfect. 'it doesn't feel complete.'

once peter was out of his wet suit and into his favorite pair of bright pink hello kitty pants matched with a plain white tee, he sneaked his arms around you, taking your comforting scent in. you felt him place a kiss in your hair, 'i think it's perfect.'

you turn to look at him with an unimpressed expression. his smile widens and he can't fight the urge to kiss you any longer. peter gently presses his lips into yours. he's always been delicate with his kisses, especially after being spider-man. you knew it was his way to ground himself after a day of fighting criminals, so you let him be as soft as he needed. 

you loved it that way. you loved him that way.

peter pulls away first. 'i have some photos i took last week. you could draw some if you need.' 

peter's hobby went hand in hand with your art. thanks to being spider-man, he was able to take some shots of new york no one else would be able to obtain, and he often let you sketch them, so often that half of his storage is pictures he takes for you to draw. the other half is probably of you.

you hum in agreement, still looking into peter's eyes. you have never loved brown as much as you do now. 

'tomorrow.' peter took your mug in one hand, then used the other to hold your hand while he drag you over to bed. 'today, we cuddle.' he set your bug on the night stand. 

you smile. 'okay.'

you two settled under your warm covers with you closest to your mug incase you want a sip, but before you could find a comfortable position, peter stood up, muttering a quick 'wait!'. 

you frown, but understood what he was doing when he pulled a lighter from your drawer in the night stand. he lit up the candle that rested on top. apple pumpkin. you bought a few pumpkin scented candles last fall, and peter grew to love this specific one. he wasn't a fan of scented candles because of his enhanced smell, but this one was subtle enough for him to enjoy without getting a headache.

once peter returned to bed, he wrapped his arms around your waist with his head on your chest. he slightly tilted his head to plant a kiss into your skin. 'i love you.'

his whispered confession filled you with butterflies. you don't know what you did to be lucky enough to love this boy in your arms, let alone be loved back by him. one of your hands wrapped around his back, while the other caressed his check, slightly squishing his face. his chuckles echoed in the room along the rain when you started kissing his face. 

two kisses on his right check, two more on the left, three on his forehead, and one on the bridge of his nose. 

'i love you more.'

a bright smile stayed on peter's face as he shook his head. 'that's not possible.' your smile matched his, 'i think it is. no, i know it is.' 

'i love you most.' before you could disagree, you felt his hands sneak under your shirt, cutting you off by tickling your sides. you squeak in surprise and try to squirm away. your laughter fills peter's ears, 'okay! i can't breathe!'

peter paused his movements and you inhale to suggest, 'we both love each other equally.'

peter makes a thinking face. 'i'll let you have this win,' he rolled his eyes playfully before settling in your arms again. 

the two of you stayed intertwined in bed until you felt peter's breathing slow down, indicating he had fallen asleep. his weight was on your side now, but looking down at him you decided you wanted to engrave this moment forever. 

swiftly, you reached for the small sketchbook you keep on your night stand. thankfully, you had left a pencil there too. you sat up slightly, making sure not to disturb peter's slumber. his arms tighten around you making you freeze, but the light snores coming from peter tell you he is still deep in his sleep.

you find a clean page and begin drawing shapes until you like how they all sit together. you move to the face proportions, not focusing on shading yet. your hand makes the hair part look effortless, and it may be from the many times you've drawn these curls. moving back to the face, you use your finger to blend the lines better.

finishing the rough draft, your focus goes to the nose, moving to the freckles you have memorized. 

'stalker.'

peter's deep voice caused a blush to creep into your cheeks. it wasn't the first time peter caught you drawing him, he has seen the many sketches and paintings you've done of him, but you still shy way when his eyes follow every detail of him you've embedded into your mind. 

if only you knew peter feels the same. to know the person he loves more than anything has memorized him, his body and soul, fills him with an indescribable feeling. he does the same with his camera. most of his photos are moments you've shared together that he wants to remember forever. 

peter not having storage on his phone from all the candid pictures he has of you is his version of when you learned to draw the lines that form around his eyes when he smiles.

'shut up,' you nudge your leg against his. there's smiles on both of your faces as peter snuggles closer to you. 

the room is rather dark by now, only the candle peter had previously lit and another lamp you always have create a cozy atmosphere. the warm glow of the lamp reaches your features enough for peter to see and he takes his time to draw his own painting of you in his mind. 

the flickering flame of the candle mixing with the apple pumpkin scent ignite a perfect portrait of peter you ache to fabricate, you take a mental picture for later.

you could be here with peter for all time. 

neither of you knew that it was only momentary. 

peter climbed through the window, a plastic bag in hand. he pulled his mask off, wet hair falling over his eyes. 

the loud thunder from outside shook his apartment. it started raining earlier that day, so peter decided to cut his patrolling short. he hadn't done it in a while.

his body was freezing from the harsh wind that he old suit would have kept him warm from. he walked towards a basket full of his clothes that sat in a corner, that was his dresser for the time being, and grabbed a gray shirt. 

when peter picked up the shirt, he caught a glimpse of what once were a bright magenta hello kitty bottoms, is now a dull shade of pink. with a sinking feeling, peter decided to put them on as well.

he made it to his twin size bed where he left the bag and took out the single purchase he made. 

a small scented candle. apple pumpkin.

once lit, he set it on the small dining table his studio apartment came with. he stared at it until the soft scent filled his nose. his throat closes when memories of you that are still imprinted in his mind come back. peter feels his left eye twitch as tears threaten to spill, but he refuses to cry. 

he can't afford a breakdown. he has no one to turn to anymore. peter doesn't know if he can pick himself back up if he breaks. it was easier with tony because he had may and friends who cared about him. but especially because he had you. 

now may is gone, he's a stranger to his friends, and every detail of peter you had memorized has been erased. 

peter turns back to his bed and pulls the covers to get in. he continues to stare at the flame emotionless, slowly dissociating from his lonesome. 

even after everything, peter can't comprehend how you could go from perfectly drawing the creases on his lips without a reference to not even remembering his name. 

do you still have those pieces of him? 

do you still draw him even now like it is muscle memory?

is he in your dreams like you are in his?

you will continue to occupy peter's mind until the day being spider-man finally kills him. you were his deepest love, and now his greatest loss. 

[rentenwins]

silly little excuses (newneighbour!leehan x reader)

ch 1 • ch 2 • ch 3 • ch 4

synopsis: who goes there? a silly little story of your fish-loving neighbour. with a little egging on from your friends, surely a few hints would’ve been dropped on his head right? right?

content: slice of life, fluff, (a lot of) banter, (eventual) idiots to lovers, f!reader, university-aged characters, leehan’s love for fish, mild cursing(?), the bnd members <3

a/n: my first multi-chapter fic on tumblr after being on this site for… 6 years? please be nice to me >.< a lot of love for bnd here ofc hehe

wc: 1268

chapter 1: a new neighbour?

It is a typical Thursday with your classes not starting until past midday. It meant longer mornings in bed, and in this case it was to sleep in. Well, at least you planned to.

There was an unknown dull thud near your door. You groan as the thuds made itself known in succession and you know your sleep was ruined for the morning. You check your phone, a mocking 7:34am flashes and you groan louder. The next sane thing for you to do was to check the commotion outside.

Your apartment building was oddly peaceful for a complex near the university. Your luck skyrocketed when you realised your floor was filled with students from a couple of your classes, so it added extra peace of mind. They weren’t noisy either, it helped on nights where working on your portfolio actually seemed feasible.

Slippers on and a jumper on, you shiver a little because of the chilly morning air not yet warmed by the sun. Unlocking the door proved a challenge in the morning, but the door swings open nonetheless and you peer your head outside. Across the hall, you see a stack of boxes, suitcases and eco-bags plopped into the corner haphazardly. You jump as you hear another thud and a huff from someone down the walkway from the elevator, the rolling of wheels louder as it approaches you.

Your eyes might have been deceiving you but a man, around your age with a kind face, strolls in with a dolly, carrying yet another cardboard box and a tote bag on top of it, but also a bucket on his free hand. He sets the bucket down as he rummages through all his jacket and jean pockets before pulling out a key to open the door to the apartment across your floor. He opened the door with a sigh of relief and began to carry in the lighter bags inside, never letting go of the bucket on his left hand. Barely you can see the barren inside of the apartment, the sign of a house about to be made into a new home. The man comes out, no bucket in hand, but locks eyes with your head peering out your door.

In your curiosity and tiredness you forget that you probably looked psycho, your tired resting face the only thing peering out the door essentially looking at a stranger and suddenly knowing of his new address. The man stiffens and lets out a small “Oh.” as you come to your senses. In a near-frantic state, you fly the door open and stand outside your door, properly looking at the man now.

“Sorry, was I making too much noise?” the man says as he sheepishly looks at you.

“No! no, no not at all, I usually get, um, up at this time anyway,” You lie casually, though he makes no telltale sign that he didn’t believe you. “Well, I see you’re just moving in. Are you from around here?”

His face soothes when you ask the question. “I’m actually from Busan, but I moved here for university. I’ve been to Seoul a couple of times before but this is my first time staying here for longer than a few days.”

You hum in response, now fully straightened up outside your door. You two continued talking for a while, albeit not so comfortable but you had to be friendly nonetheless. You find out each others’ majors, the boy revealed he majored in marine biology while you studied interior design.

You swore you saw him blush when you mentioned you went to the university near the apartment complex. But you paid no mind. It might’ve been the morning daze, but his hair was pretty, tied up in a small ponytail on the back of his head. His face was pretty too, proportionate and screamed friendliness. The way his mouth tilted upwards as he spoke and eyes crinkled as he spoke was attractive, though to be polite you managed to catch all he said with equal enthusiasm.

You asked the boy, “Oh I didn’t quite catch your name? What was it aga—“

“LEEHAN!”

An unknown voice echoes through the hall towards the elevator along with dragging footsteps. Oddly enough, you recognised the voice. There was no way…

You peer down the hall as you see Taesan and Sungho carrying what seems to be buckets in their hands. Your new neighbour, apparently named ‘Leehan’, peered over too and smiled at the two boys.

“Oh! Fancy seeing you here?” Taesan teases as you roll your eyes and Sungho gives a friendly wave behind him, “I see you’ve met Mr New Neighbour?”

The dots seem to connect in Leehan’s head as his eyes widen, “Hey, you know these two? You know y/n too?”

“Of course!” Sungho beams, “We’re all at the design school. Just so happens we live here too.” You and Taesan nod in agreement as Leehan looks at you two, a glimmer of bewilderment in his eyes still. It was kind of endearing.

“Hey, why are you up so early?” Taesan looks at your comfy form.

“I heard noises outside. Had to make sure it wasn’t any trouble. Turns out I didn’t have to worry all that much.” You reply, in the corner of your eye you see Leehan bow his head in embarrassment again. God, you couldn’t stop thinking how adorable it was, and it makes the corners of your mouth tilt upwards.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about any noise at night! After all, all this dude ever cares about are his co—“

Leehan quickly shoves a hand over Sungho’s mouth, “Okay!! That’s enough!! Come inside. Now. Please.” he stutters as he pulls Sungho towards the door, taking the bucket out of his hands. The bucket left a water mark on the concrete. Odd, why would they be carrying wet buckets around—

“Oi, there’s still stuff in the truck downstairs!” Sungho protests from inside Leehan’s apartment.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n!” Leehan quickly gleams, taking the other bucket from Taesan as Taesan smirks at his friend. Leehan sets the buckets inside his apartment and grabs Taesan's arm, about to pull him down the hall to the elevators.

Taesan’s eyes gloss with humour at Leehan’s behaviour as he smiles and waves at you, “See you later y/— WOAH!” and Taesan and Leehan are down the hall again, footsteps echoing.

That was odd. The sound of a clearing throat brings your eyes back to the front of Leehan’s apartment, Sungho leaning against the doorframe.

“Just between you and me, nothing gets in the way of Leehan and his fishes.”

“I’m sorry, his what?” Your face contorts in confusion as Sungho giggles and takes the buckets again, beckoning you to look inside. You didn’t expect to see puffer bags of water with around three decently-sized fishes.

“Are those…?”

“Corydoras apparently,” Sungho explains. “I don’t know what’s so cool about them, but he seems to love them a lot. Brought them all the way from Busan to here. It’s a miracle it got here in one piece.” You swallow a laugh as you back up towards your door and tell Sungho you’ll see him later after class.

“Oh and,” You turn back from your door, “Make him feel welcome, yeah? Don’t want him thinking I’m friends with a prickly heathen.” Sungho teases. You flip him the bird as he throws his head back in a laugh as he greets you goodbye just before the door closes.

Great, a new friend. A good-looking one. You wonder how many more of these people Taesan and Sungho know.

[number1jeonginstan]

can you write about an au where when ppl meet/see their s/o they instantly feel like they need to consummate their bond? and seungmin meets y/n? (its fine if not tho)

A/N: Thank you for your request and sorry for it taking so long :( I really hope you enjoyed it! While writing this, I started getting an idea of making this into a series, so one for each member meeting their soulmate and stuff. I thought it would be neat, but I don’t really know if you guys want that or not, if you do, please tell me! ALSO, I told you guys I will be back on that writing grind (I always keep my promises!!) 

WC: 2.6k

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: College Student!Seungmin x afab! Reader

Warnings: kinda public sex, but not, unprotected sex (are we surprised?), cumming inside of op even though it was their first time, idk what else to add…

The air was thick outside, a light drizzle was hitting the ground as Jeongin and Seungmin were eating their lunch.

“Did you guys fuck?” Seungmin asked bluntly, dipping another fry in the ketchup in front of him. “You know we have to as soon as we touch, it’s so embarrassing though” Jeongin groaned. “How is it embarrassing? She now knows what your dick looks like and you guys can live happily ever after!” he chuckled as Jeongin took a sip of his milkshake. 

“Dude, I don’t understand why we have to have sex as soon as we see our soulmate, the world is a twisted place. Like hypothetically, what if the dude is a virgin and the girl isn’t, or the dude has a micro? Even worse if they are both virgins, like imagine losing it to someone you don’t even know and then having to spend your entire life with them” 

Seungmin just nodded along as Jeongin continued to go on and on. “Like think about it if I didn’t have sex with them, I would have a painful ass boner until we are either 100 miles apart or until I fuck her, not to mention, I can only have sex with them for the rest of our lives and we barely know each other.” 

“I think you are reading too much into it, was she at least nice?” 

“Yeah” Jeongin scratched the back of his neck “she was super sweet, I’m actually going to her place after this for a movie date” 

“Awww, Innie is finally getting play, even though it is forceful” 

Jeongin just rolled his eyes, popping another fry in his mouth. “I better get going, I don’t want to be late”

Seungmin watched him get out of their shared booth, only to almost run into someone and apologize. Seungmin just chuckled, knowing how clumsy his friend was, only to look up and see you. 

He knew you from a few classes, you were also taking photography, but he didn’t believe it was your major seeing as you were only taking the required classes with him. 

Jeongin profusely began apologizing, telling you he really didn’t mean it, you just giggled, telling him that everything was okay and it wasn’t your fault. As you turned around, you spotted Seungmin, and you stopped and looked at him for a second. 

“You are Seungmin from my photography class right?” Seungmin was confused, he didn’t think that you knew him, let alone knew his name. “Oh um, yeah Professor Lee right?” he asked, trying to make it seem like he didn’t know exactly who you were. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say I love your work. When you showed us your portfolio, I was genuinely blown away. Like seriously, the way you capture the essence of everything around you is breathtaking.” 

Seungmin could feel his ears getting redder, blushing slightly at the way you described his photos. No one had ever admired them the way you were describing them at that moment. “Thank you so much” he stuttered slightly, still a bit embarrassed.

“That actually leads me to my question,” you said, picking at your nails slightly. “Oh? What’s your question?” He asked, placing his chin in the palm of his hands, trying to show to you that you had his full attention. 

“I’m a Journalism major, and I’m trying to work on my photography so I can better capture the essence of what’s going on at that moment in time. That’s why I’m minoring in it, but I feel like I’m just not there. Like sure, I have the camera and everything, but I feel like I’m not conveying the feeling or emotions of the event like you do, so I was going to ask if you could help me?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels waiting for his response, and he simply nodded “Yeah, I would love to help you” 

You grinned “Um, do you want to give me your number, or I can give you mine so we can figure out a time if that’s okay, or if you don’t want to give me yours we can always meet up after class” you continued to ramble on. 

“Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number and just text me right now so I can make sure it went through” 

You simply nodded, handing him your phone. He put in his number, sending a text from your phone to his.

“See, I got it,” he said, holding up his own phone. “Why don’t I text you when I’m free and we can coordinate from there!” 

“Thank you so much Seungmin, like seriously, I really appreciate it!”

Just before he could reply, your friend that you were with called you over to your booth, causing you to wave him goodbye and run over to her. 

“Who was that?” she asked you, looking over the menu in front of her. 

“He’s this really cute dude from my photography class, he said he would help me so I can take better pictures” You grinned to yourself, you had finally got the boy's number you had been fawning over for the semester. 

10:21 PM

Hey, it’s Seungmin Wait, you already know that  You know what, ignore the first two texts  And that one And that one  Shit.  Ummm  I just wanted to say that I am free tomorrow at 2 pm if that works with you. If not, that’s totally fine, we can find another time Anyway, have a good night! 

You giggled at the texts he had just sent you, something about him being flustered over text made you so happy. 

Seungmin rolled around in anguish waiting for your text, he wanted to know your thoughts. Maybe you thought he was crazy sending all those texts and ghosted him or no longer wanted his help. He was about to give up and go to sleep until he got your text. 

10:34 PM

Oh hey Seungmin! Yeah, I think 2 works for me! I’ll bring my camera and stuff, and I’ll text you a good location Also, text me your coffee order, I’ll bring you some

He felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. You were so cute, asking for his coffee order, he just wanted to pinch your cheeks, but that would be weird, right? You guys barely knew each other, he would just watch over you in class and that’s all. 

It was the afternoon and you had set up your camera. You had found this abandoned field a few months ago while just walking around listening to music. You thought it was the perfect spot to practice taking pictures with more emotion. 

You had placed a picnic blanket in the grass big enough to fit 4 people as well as a blanket since it was getting cooler and you didn’t know how long you guys would be there. 

You were waiting for Seungmin, the ice in his Americano slowly melting, the condensation slowly making the cup wetter. When your phone finally showed 2:05, Seungmin showed up. While you were wearing jeans, a white blouse, and a sweater with apples all over it, he was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel. 

“Sorry I’m a little late, I was trying to find this place,” he said, placing his camera bag onto the blanket. He took a step back, fully looking around taking in the view. “How did you find this place? It’s secluded, but absolutely stunning” 

“I was just walking around one day and stumbled over this spot”

You handed him his iced americano, and he took it from your hands graciously. “So, I was thinking that we should practice different emotions, but the same scene, so why don’t we do that?” He took a sip of his drink and then placed it back on the grass.

You simply nodded, getting your camera, and waiting for his instructions. He turned to you and pointed in front of him. It was just some dandelions, it was nothing special, but he went on to explain. 

“Dandelions are one of the very few plants that can grow anywhere and everywhere. Some might see them as a weed, but others may see them as a beautiful flowers that can withstand thousands of weather conditions. Now, think about what you want it to look like as you take the picture”

You did as he said, trying to fully understand the flower in front of you. You took the picture with the intent you had in mind, and you did it. The flower looked bright and powerful compared to the grass that surrounded it. 

“Seungmin I did it!” you jumped up and down, showing him the hug. Before he could react, you gave him a hug, trying to express your gratitude. As you pulled away, it was like a switch had flipped in you. 

For some reason, you could feel yourself get wetter. It was something you had never felt before, it felt uncomfortable, and the only thing you could feel was lust. The same was for Seungmin, all he could feel himself get hard the second you touched him. It wasn’t even just a random hard-on, but it felt so painful like he had to cum that second or else he would die. 

“Seungmin, do you also feel that way?” You asked, feeling a bit scared, but your entire body was tingling like there was no other sensation. You could feel your wetness slowly drip down your thighs and there was no stopping it. “Yeah, fuck, I think it does” 

“Can I please?” he groaned, he couldn’t bear the feeling of not being next to you, on top of you, inside of you. It’s like he could smell your wetness and had to indulge himself in it or else he would die. “Wait, I don’t have a condom, I don’t think we should”

Before he could even continue speaking, you stopped him, shutting him up by kissing his lips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I might just explode” 

You continued to kiss him, taking off your own sweater and pants, leaving you just in your blouse and underwear as he took off his flannel and pants. “But, what if?” 

You stopped him, “I’m clean and am on birth control, if you are clean too then what’s stopping us? The only way this sensation will stop is if we are a hundred miles away from each other and that will take hours, so please just fuck me” 

He groaned, going back to attacking your lips. He laid you on the picnic blanket you had brought, thanking your prior self for bringing it. He moved down to your neck, to the curve of your breasts as he continued to kiss them, pulling down the strap of your bra and blouse in one tug to give him access to your breast. 

He began to tease your nipple, pinching it with his finger as he began to bite marks on your neck, claiming you as his. “Seungmin please stop teasing, I need to feel you in me right now” 

That was all he needed, he pulled his shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the distance as well as his boxers. His cock was long, slightly thick, with two veins at the underside of it. You could feel your mouth water as he began to smear the pre-cum leaking from his tip onto the rest of his throbbing cock. 

“Fuck baby, look at what you did to me just with a hug” he groaned. “I could say the same for me,” you said, pulling down your underwear to show your soaked core. 

He looked at your pussy in awe, you were so wet he could easily slip in with no prep. “Fuck, so wet just for me” 

You just nodded, playing with your clit, trying to give yourself some sort of stimulation. “Please Minnie, need your cock so bad” you pleaded, your doe eyes looking up at him. Before he could even register what he was doing, he aligned the tip of his cock, with your hole, slowly putting his cock inside of you. 

You moaned at the sensation, you had never felt so full in your life. Once he had fully sheathed his cock inside of you, he let out a long and sultry moan. “Fuck baby, this pussy is everything” 

Before you could moan in response, he began to fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Your legs wrapped around him, wanting to feel him hit that spot inside of you. “Fuck baby, fuck Minnie you feel so good” you moaned. 

He lifted your hips slightly, causing him to hit that one spot inside of you. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck” you babbled, feeling so close. 

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, he could tell you were close, so he brought his hand down to your clit, slowly circling it in tandem with his thrusts. That was all you needed to cum. 

You came screaming his name, your legs wrapping tighter around him, not wanting him to stop thrusting into you. “Fuck baby, if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum inside, please let me go” he whined.

You didn’t budge, feeling slightly overstimulated, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you, to fill you with his cum. That was all he needed to reach his peak, his load shooting inside of you, causing you to cum once again, your walls milking him dry. 

He slowly pulled out of you, covering you with the blanket you had brought and wrapping his arms around you. 

You were both covered by the second blanket you had brought. You were thankful for it, it was shielding the both of you from the cool air that would be nipping your skin if you didn’t. 

“Who would have thought the dude I was looking at all of class for the past semester was actually my soulmate?” You said out loud, your head buried into his chest.

He cocked his head slightly to look at you. “What do you mean, I was looking at you in class all the time, I never saw you looking at me?” 

You turned your head up to look at him “So we are both idiots who could have done this earlier if we actually talked to one another?” You asked, giggling a bit about how stupid the two of you were.

“Yeah, I guess so” he chuckled back, placing a kiss on your head. “Shit, my friends are going to tease me relentlessly for this, fucking my soulmate in the middle of a field” He groaned out loud. 

“You guys tell each other when you meet your soulmate?” you asked, a bit confused 

“Yeah, we have a group chat, Jeongin was the first to find his and now I’m second, I wonder how the rest of them are going to find theirs” 

“You should invite me to them,” you said, kissing his lips once again. 

“Baby, if I didn’t they would have kidnapped you and introduced themselves to you” 

You just laughed, running your fingers along his face. “Now that we have gotten over the whole “need to fuck like bunnies” how about we do this again?” 

Before Seungmin could even realize what you meant, you slowly moved on top of him, slipping his already-hardened cock into your soaking pussy. 

“Fuck baby, I’m always ready for round two,” He said, groaning at the way your walls clenched his cock, you were made for him.

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a (teenage) reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is a young teenager (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART TWO. Hurt/comfort addition.

Folks who wanted to be tagged. @hope4rain19, @minaxcarter, @brooke-stinson, @urminebutidontwantyou, @gaipplrhot, @gyarukitti, @raphydude, @thelxapeia, @ant1d3pre55ant5add1ct, @decentsoupperson, @kawaistrawberry21.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy sighed as he stomped to your room in search of his laptop. You had been in such a rush this morning to get to school that you had accidentally left it in there. And while he always respected your wishes for him to never enter your room, he really needed his laptop. Sacrifices need be made some times.

However, as Freddy wandered into your room, he was met with a sight that literally stole his breath. Your bed was completely littered with folders and painted canvas boards. There was a large portfolio bag laying on the ground with its contents scattered everywhere. Painting and drawing utensils alike sat scattered over a table with a still wet painting taped atop.

Eyes ridiculously wide, Freddy looked around and deeply observed the area. He didn't know you owned any of this stuff. Paintings, oil canvases, drawings and sketches, and all of them were yours. And each piece looked really, really good. Freddy couldn't believe what was happening right now.

He thought you gave up on art.

Delicately picking up multiple art pieces, a happiness and sense of pride rushed through Freddy's heart, and he found himself grinning big in a mixture of relief and utter joy. You still loved art, and you were so good at it. He hadn't destroyed your passion after all. That being said though... Why would you hide this from him?

Later that day when you came home, Freddy asked you to go to the kitchen. When you went inside, you froze right on the spot. There, scattered all across the kitchen table, were multiple art projects of yours.

"Dad..." You choked, your heart racing in fear, your words stolen from you, "I..."

"I needed my laptop and uh... Accidentally found these," Freddy explained, a happy smile covering his face as he went to grab your shoulders, "Sweetie, why would you hide this from-"

"I told you not to go in there." You almost shouted, tears blurring your eyes as you pulled away from him.

"Sweetie," Freddy took a step back, hurt by your defensive attitude.

You went to the table and quickly began to gather up your art work. Freddy chased after you to try and get you to stop, "No, stop it. Don't do that- just-just wait a sec, I-"

"I get it, dad, you hate it. You've always hated my art. You-just... J-just leave me alone. Don't touch it, ok," You avoided eye contact while scurrying to protect your work, "I'll put it away."

"No, that's not what I want. (y/n). (y/n), will you please look at me. Hey," Freddy placed a hand on your shoulder and kept you from stomping off, "(y/n), look at me."

With a tense body and watery eyes, you looked at him, art work clutched to your chest and a glare covering your face.

Freddy sighed and said in earnest, "That's not what I want. Your art, I love it. I think it's beautiful an-and amazing! I-I mean, all this time? Really? I thought you gave up on it, I... I thought that I..."

Relaxing, you lowered your arms and looked him straight in the eyes. It felt like your heart had just done a summersault in your chest. "You... You mean it? You... You really like my art?"

"I love it!" Freddy exclaimed almost too quickly, "I love it so much, you have no idea. You have no idea how happy this makes me, (y/n). I thought that I ruined art for you. I... I never stopped feeling guilty about what I did. And I always hoped that one day you would start again, but..."

"Dad," You bit your lip hard in an attempt not to cry. He cared. He actually cared, and he loved your art. He was happy for you.

"Here," Freddy went to grab an old folder off the table.

Suspicious, you set down your art and went to take the folder. When you opened it, you saw dozens of old, un-crumpled papers with very distinct, familiar drawings on them. It took a minute, but you soon realized that these were the very drawings you had thrown away when you were little.

"You... Kept them?" You gaped at your dad, your heart aching in a happy/sad way.

"Of course I did," Freddy's smile wobbled a bit, "I love you and I love everything you do, and I'm so, so sorry for making you feel bad, f-for making you feel like you had to hide this from me."

Lowering the folder, you felt your lips wobble as your heart clenched in great happiness and relief. All this time you believed your dad hated your passion. He had hurt you so badly, but he regretted it. He had always regretted it, and he loved your work.

In a desperate attempt to hide your tears, you rush up to your dad and give him a big hug. Freddy held you as tightly as he could, his arms fierce and protective as he said, "Don't ever give up on your art, (y/n). No matter what, please. I love you so much."

Michael Myers

Michael had wandered out of the garage a few minutes after your friend's dad dropped you off. "Me and (friend's name) are gonna grab a snack real quick, k dad?" You had hollered while rushing into the house.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Michael approached the other man who casually got out of the car. He was grinning big at you and his own kid, seemingly proud and full of joy. "My god, man," He said mindlessly, smiling at Michael, "I tell ya, that was one hell of a game today. Whoo, and (y/n)? My god, they were great."

Puzzled and confused, Michael could only tilt his head in wonder. Game? What game?

The man shook his head and gave Michael an even more puzzled look than he himself sported, "Hey, how come I never see you at any of their games? Rough job or something?"

Michael's silence and confused expression urged the man to explain more.

"You know, the (sport) game? Just had one today- what a show I tell ya. But, I just- I never see you there, you know?"

At that, Michael's eyes went unspeakably wide. (sport)? You were playing (sport)? What? For how long? Why didn't he know about this? He thought you quit playing that when you were little. What was going on?

A week later and Michael was sitting amongst the crowd that was watching your (sport) game. You didn't know he was there. You didn't even know that he knew all your secrets like the fact that you had been playing (sport) for years, how you had won two trophies, the fact that this is where you spent most of your time at, and so on and so forth.

While watching the game, Michael couldn't help but to feel a deep sense of pride, relief and great joy at seeing how passionately you played and how much fun you were having. And you were so talented at it. The other team didn't stand a chance. You had grown so much since you were little. To this day his own actions still haunted him.

He hurt you. He 'scarred' you. And, although you continued doing what you loved, you had still felt the need to hide it from him, for years. He did that. He had made you feel so anxious and insecure that you felt the need to hide your greatest passion from him.

What kind of father does that to their child?

Unsurprisingly, your team won the game, and Michael couldn't be more proud or excited. Once the crowd and commotion calmed down, he patiently waited on you to exit the changing rooms. The way you hid yourself...

Michael gazed around at all the happy families congratulating and/or comforting their kids. It crushed his heart thinking about the sheer loneliness you expressed after the game ended and you had no one to celebrate with aside from your team mates.

When you came out of the changing room, Michael straightened his posture and faced you. It took you a minute, but eventually you looked up, saw him, and froze. A gasp escaped your mouth while your backpack fell from your shoulder to your shaken hand.

Michael's chest ached at the sight of your frightened, horrified face as you frantically looked around as if for an escape. Quickly he approached you and said in sign language, "That was a good game."

"Dad," You stepped away from him, panicked, "I-it's not what you think-I... I-I was just-I'm..."

You were scared, Michael realized, guilt beating on him like a hundred hammers. He waved his hand at you to get your attention, "Why didn't you tell me you were playing (sport)?"

"I..." You stare at him in great panic that melted into sadness and fear. You dropped your backpack and covered your face, saying brokenly, "I'm sorry, dad. I... I didn't mean to. Don't be mad, please, I-I... I'll stop playing it."

What? Micheal rushed to you and went to gently pull your hands away from your flushed face. What had he done? "No, I'm not mad. Please stop panicking. I'm not mad. Not at all."

Confused, you look at him through tear colored vision.

"I just found out you were playing (sport). You even have trophies. (y/n), why did you keep this from me?"

"Because," You winced, "You said I wasn't good at it. You... You hate me for it. I... I just wanted to be happy. I... I didn't mean to..."

He couldn't believe how upset you were, and all because he found out that you were doing what you loved. Marching up to you, Michael pulled you into a big hug that lasted for several minutes. When he noticed you calm down, he moved back a bit and explained.

"I was an idiot back then. I never should have said those things to you, (y/n). I've always felt bad for how I made you feel. You're not bad at (sport) and I never wanted you to stop playing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I made you feel this way."

You were shocked speechless, so Michael pulled you into another hug. You hugged back, relieved. He wasn't mad at you. He apologized. Everything was going to be alright.

Bo Sinclair

Bo lived in a very, very small town. Everyone knew each other and every piece of information that existed on the surface. Rumors spread and gossip filled the air like pollen. So it didn't take very long for Bo to learn that you had been practicing engineering with the car shop just down the road.

At first Bo had been ecstatic. You were still interested in engineering? He thought you didn't want to do that anymore; you said so yourself. Ever since the incident when you were little, you hadn't helped him with anything physically constructive- not even stuff as simple as hanging a picture on the wall.

Pretty much everyone praised you and said that you were doing a tremendous job. Your skill towards fixing vehicles was a natural, golden talent. You were an impressive, fast learner and everyone loved and appreciated you.

But when Bo tried to approach you about this exciting news, he was confused to hear you deny all of it. You shut his exclamations off and said that the towns people were lying. You claimed to have nothing to do with engineering. Yes, you hung around the car shop, but nothing was going on, you were just bored.

Bo didn't understand it. Why would you lie to him about this? He knew that the towns people weren't making this up- just ask the guy who took a picture of you and your buddies covered in grease while working on a truck engine. You looked so happy. Why was that something to lie about?

For the life of him, Bo could not figure out what was going on with you. Obviously you were lying to him, but he couldn't get you to explain why. It was as if you were completely and utterly avoiding him now, and it was driving him crazy.

So Bo reached out for help.

"Well," Your engineering teacher said in a tense tone, "I talked to em an' they said it's 'cause they don't wanna make ya mad."

"Huh?" Bo shook his head in exaggeration. What did that even mean?

Your teacher gave him a wearisome look, "I think they're afraid you're gonna blow a gasket on em if they do somethin' wrong. I take it that... you got a short temp?"

At that question, Bo was immediately rushed with memories of the past, and he found himself feeling overwhelmed with guilt and dread. That time he got mad at you when you were little, you didn't just give up on engineering. You gave up on everything that had to do with him. Was this why? Because you were afraid that he would get mad at you if you messed up or made a mistake?

You were afraid of his temper.

Coming to realization, Bo spent quite a while trying to figure out how he should approach you. He wasn't the best at emotions or having deep conversations. If he tried to explain himself he feared he would just say something stupid and cause you to be more upset with him.

So he waited for the perfect moment.

A couple weeks later, Bo dragged you to his shop to show you something that caused your mouth to fall open in awe. "Ram 3500, 2018. An' look at'er license plate."

Gasping the name of the state the enormous truck was from, you faced your dad with absolute excitement and disbelief, "Why's it here?"

"Ah, a little transmission trouble on the road," Bo smiled and slung an arm around your shoulder, "Nice huh? She's a beauty. Needs lotta' work, fast, an' I want 'you' to help me."

"What?" Your behavior changed drastically, "Dad-"

"Look, I've already heard all the gossip. I've seen ya work at the shop. I know you know what you're doin', (y/n)," Bo went to stand in front of you. "But what I don't understand is why ya don't wanna work with me."

"It's not... I just..." You sighed and looked at the ground, lost on what to say. A pain filled your chest as you admitted quietly, "I ain't perfect, dad, I... I make mistakes."

"And?" Bo pushed for a better answer.

His impatience and lack of understanding made you snap, "An' you can't handle that. Every time I mess up even the tiniest bit, you get mad at me. What do you expect me to do, huh? I'm only (age)."

Going silent, Bo relaxed upon learning what exactly your insecurity was. You were avoiding him because you were afraid of him getting mad at you for making mistakes. He did this. He put this fear in you, made you this way. And because of that, you were both teetering on the edge of complete life separation.

"(y/n)," Bo reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Your entire body froze.

"I... never meant to make ya feel this way. I know ya ain't perfect. You're still learnin' an' you've got a long ways to go, but... I wanna be there for you, (y/n). I wanna help you. I wanna watch ya grow, an' I can't do that if ya ain't around... I'm better than I used to be. So if you mess up, I ain't gettin' mad. I'm helping you, because that's what fathers do."

Shot by your dad's moving words, you find yourself staring at him for a long moment before a large smile bloomed across your face. "Right dad," You say, "Let's take a look at her."

With his heart skipping over the moon, Bo grinned and thanked the very stars themselves for this moment, and he lead you to your first shared project since you were a mere, little kid.

Hannibal Lecter

One night Hannibal got bored and lonely and decided to go to Will's house which was where you liked to spend lots of time at. He didn't mind you staying with Will, but some times he himself felt a little bit left out.

When he arrived at Will's house, he quietly made way up the stairs of the porch and temporarily paused just outside of the window. Casually peeking in, Hannibal spotted Will sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper while you stood in front of the stove in the kitchen. Your sleeves were clumsily rolled up and you had a apron on.

The motions of your arms and the state of the kitchen did not lie. You were cooking. You were quite literally cooking food right in front of him. Hannibal couldn't help but to release a small shudder of mixed emotions. It had been years since he last saw you cook- years since he demolished your feelings and forced you away from the passion you both once shared.

To see you cooking now? It made Hannibal erupt with questions and emotions. How long had this been going on? What were you cooking? Why were you cooking? How come he didn't know? Were you happy? Was this why you always spent so much time with Will?

Speaking oh whom, Hannibal watched as you handed out a spoon to which Will stood up to receive. Taking a taste of the spoon, Will made a bright face and reached out for a container of spice. You smiled, laughed and nodded, happily going to add some of the recommended spice to your dish.

Grinning, Hannibal couldn't help but to feel great pride. So, you could handle personal opinions and constructive criticism? What an astounding chef you turned out to be, and you looked so happy too.

Regaining his composure, Hannibal straightened his hair and went to knock on the door.

It took over five minutes for Will to answer.

By that time, things had grown to be rather chaotic. Now only did Will claim that you had gone to bed, but that he also was the one responsible for the late night meal.

Hannibal knew better though.

Whilst you pretended to sleep in the guest bedroom, Will and Hannibal stood in the kitchen gazing around at all your hard work.

"They told me what happened when they were little," Will said, a disappointed look on his face, "How could you say that to them, doc?"

Hannibal stared down at your unfinished dish, his heart clenching in memory of the past. "I spoke out of impulse. I didn't mean to cause them this much insecurity." To think you would go out of your way to lie to him. "How long has this affair been going on?"

"I don't know. Few years?" Will shrugged, "I was cooking macaroni one day, they asked to help and... The ship set sail, I guess."

"You reignited their flame," Hannibal huffed and smiled, "I'm grateful."

"Ever thought about apologizing?" Will asked.

"I have," Hannibal said softly, "However, they refuse to have anything to do with cooking."

"You told them that they were a horrible cook and a waste of time in the kitchen. What did you expect would happen?"

Hannibal bowed his head in shame. He hurt you, more than he had ever imagined. After all these years he believed that you had moved on and found different passions, but instead you clung to cooking and desperately sought hiding it from him because of fear. What kind of father was he to do that to you?

The next morning after the drive home, Hannibal kept you in the car to say, "(y/n). I know it was you who cooked at Wills the other night. I saw."

Having been dreading this exact conversation, you flushed darkly and turned your head away in great shame, sadness and fear. "I'm sorry."

"Please do not apologize," Hannibal cursed at himself for how anxious he made you feel, "I am more grateful than you could ever know."

That stirred a confused reaction from you.

"(y/n), you do not have to accept my apology, but I want you to promise me that you will continue to do what you enjoy, especially if it is cooking." Hannibal looked to you hopefully. "Seeing how happy you were... You have no idea how much joy it brought me. I thought I had destroyed your passion, but..."

Now completely facing your dad, your mouth was agape and your heart pounding furiously with emotions.

"I've always regretted what I said to you that day. It was rude and improper, and most certainly untrue. You are an astounding cook and I'm proud of you. I'm sorry that I hurt you, but, even if you do not wish to forgive me, I hope that you will always continue to do what you love."

Looking at your dad with watery eyes, you blinked and fought for the right words to respond with. All these years you had been terrified of your dad's wrath and disapproval when it came to cooking. He was right, he did hurt you, and the pain was still lingering inside you.

Even though what he said now brought you some form of relief and comfort, you couldn't help but to still feel a little bit of lingering hurt. "I... I need time." You reply quietly.

Hannibal nodded in understanding, "And time you shall have. I will always be here to support you."

-

If I made a part three, it could be about the reader still suffering some anxiety while doing their passion around their dad. And the slasher dads' will be nothing but happy, supportive and proud. You know, just casual comfort and fluff.

[sunny44]

Model

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x girlfriend!reader

Warning: none

Summary: Y/n is studying to be a fashion designer and for her final college project she has to design a collection of clothes, but after designing and making all the clothes she thinks it's not good enough so Charles does everything he can to make her believe that her work is wonderful.

I was very nervous.

It was my last semester at college and I was doing my final project, which I thought would be easy since I only had to create a collection of clothes but it was harder than I thought.

I'd never had a problem finding my work beautiful and good but it seemed that nothing I was doing lately was good but after a while I got to the point where if I didn't start making the clothes I wouldn't be able to deliver them on time.

Luckily I have a wonderful boyfriend who as well is letting me use his body measures and didn't mind that the living room of his apartment was completely messed up with bits of thread and fabric lying all over the floor.

When I started this project, the first thing that came to mind was a collection of women's clothes as most of my class would do since it was the safest option, but since I like to take risks I ended up opting for men's clothes.

"Love, are you all right?" he asked after seeing me almost biting my finger off.

"Yeah, it's just that I don't think this is good enough."

"Y/n, you need to believe in yourself more. Your work is incredible and I'm really looking forward to seeing it."

I looked at him almost crying with happiness at having him on my side.

"Thank you, Charlie. I just want this collection to be perfect."

"There's no such thing as perfect, Y/n." he replied in a calm tone. "It's not because your collection doesn't suit one person that someone else won't like it too, there are different perspectives."

"I know, it's just that I'm very nervous." He sits down next to me on the floor and hugs me.

"I know and it's going to be okay, now show me how it's going."

I showed him the pieces and made a point of explaining the creative process and the inspiration behind each of the outfits.

"Babe, this is wonderful." Charles finally said. "I'm impressed and honored that I am your muse ."

"Are you really? Don't lie to me."

"And when have I ever lied to you?"

"Never."

"Then trust me when I say it's wonderful."

I snuggled closer into his embrace and we sat there in the living room together while I hoped my project was as good as Charles says it is.

...

I walked into the college with the portfolio in my hand and Joris was pushing a trolley with four mannequins where the clothes were fitted.

"Oh my God." I turned desperately to him. "I forgot the photos of you wearing the clothes."

"No you didn't, they're with me." I breathed a sigh of relief and we went to the room where the presentations would take place.

"Well, the next work to be presented is Miss Y/n Y/L/N's." I got up on the small stage and positioned the mannequins.

"Good morning everyone, my name is Y/n and the inspiration behind my clothes is my boyfriend." They analyzed the clothes. "In case you didn't know, he's a driver and I used him as my inspiration because in the last two years of college he was the person who supported me the most, especially in this last project."

"I was inspired by Ferrari, which is the team he races for in F1 so I was inspired by that to create the collection." I said as the teacher leafed through the portfolio. "Well here are some pictures of the clothes on the model."

I clicked to show the pictures and sure enough they weren't the ones I was expecting, Charles was the model wearing all the clothes I had made.

"Nice model." My teacher says.

"Well, that wasn't the one I had chosen, but thank you." She smiles. "Well, these were the four final pieces I decided to make."

My colleagues stood up and walked over to the mannequins and began to analyze them.

"Well, I have to admit that in all the years I've been teaching I've never had someone who impressed me so much and who also got an A+."

"I got an A+?" She agreed and I heard applause coming from the classroom door and Charles was standing there smiling.

"Looks like we've got a visit from your model."

"That's my boyfriend actually."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He says and my girl colleagues almost drool over him.

"No problem darling, make yourself at home." She says and continues with the introductions while I go over to him.

"You didn't tell me you were going to model the clothes, I thought Joris was going to do that."

"I asked him not to tell you because I wanted to surprise you and also show you that I believe in you and that I will always support you the same way you support me." I smiled and kissed him.

"Let's watch the other works and then we can go out for lunch."

"Great." We sat and watched the rest of the presentations and I could finally breathe a sigh of relief after knowing that I had made it.

Bonus scene!

Charlesleclerc instagram post

Liked by @pierregasly, @yourusername, @pescaleleclerc and others 6273027

Charlesleclerc this is a few photos of the clothing collection that my girlfriend made for her final project in college. She is the most talented person I know and I’m so proud of her.

I love you babe and I can’t wait for you to dress me up again.

Tagged: Yourusername

Yourusername I love you so much baby and thank you for being the best boyfriend ever

Pierregasly wow, she make you look good

Charlesleclerc I always look good

Yourusername true

Scuderiaferrari I think we all agree that y/n needs to make the next year overall

Yourusername yesss please, let me do it

User08 I love them so much

User29 I need to know where I can buy her clothes

Yourusername instagram stories

This is my beautiful and hot boyfriend using the clothes that I’ve made inspired by him and his amazing team.

I just wanted to thank him for supporting and believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

I love you so much Charlie ❤️

[coolprettyleo]

i need to forget - gabe perreault au ☆

wc: 1.1k

tw: depression, mommy issues, daddy issues, mean summer.

gabe perreault x oc

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

summer walked through campus looking like like a train wreck.

the always put-together girl was now seen only pale and with under-eye bags.

she had been going through a lot and the feeling of helplessness was the number one feeling in her mind.

her parent's marriage was falling apart, and every day, she woke up to calls from her father ranting about her mother.

she wouldn't wish this feeling on her worst enemy.

her mother had always been lonely. with her father traveling for work she always found herself a 'companion' as she would call it, in other words, she was committing the act of adultery.

she had been doing it since summer's eighth-grade year, or that's when she finally got caught.

her father always forgave her, but it looked like her mother had finally burnt out her father to the stem.

summer felt completely helpless, and the stress of trying to keep her family together was on her shoulders, even if it was across the country.

she shook off the thought as she entered the library and spotted the boy she was least looking forward to see right now; gabe perreault.

the boy knew how to get on her nerves like a leech, and it always resulted in the two bickering for no end. usually, she liked to be back, but with everything going on, she was not looking forward to it; at all.

"your late," he said as a matter of factly

"sorry, I woke up late," she mumbled as she sat next to him.

gabe observed the girl, noticing the bag under her eyes and the burnt-out look she carried, far from the usual persona summer held.

"are you okay," he mumbled, as if he didn't want anyone to hear that he cared.

"don't act like you care, perreault. let's just get this done so we can both go on with our days," she said moodily.

"there she is" he said grinning as she rolled her eyes and began her part of the assignment.

---

the two teens had been working for about half an hour before they were pulled out of concentration from the buzzing coming from summer's phone.

she declined it before it kept buzzing,

"are you gonna answer that" he asked not being able to concentrate with the buzzing.

"nope" she said as it finally stopped buzzing, before it began to buzz again.

"i can't concentrate"

"it's not my fault you have the attention span of a bee," she sassed as he bit his tongue. gabe could see she wasn't well, and he wasn't an asshole. he wasn't going to annoy her today, but she seemed to be making that challenge quite hard for him.

"what, you're afraid your boyfriend will be mad you're studying with me" he smirked with a bit of a spark in his eyes.

he had seen her with a guy last weekend and they seemed awfully close.

"just shut up. please" she huffed as she shut off her phone.

gabe decided to drop it once again as they got to work.

___

"i'm going to head out. you just need to fill out the last slide of the portfolio and turn it in" she told him as she stood up.

"we still have another hour,"

"correction, you have another hour, I'm done," she said, crossing her arms and walking out.

leaving gabe to shake his head and watch her walk out.

"she was overly mean today" he mumbed to himself as he began to pack his own things. he'd be damn if he was going to stay in that library alone.

he turned the corner to hear a voice arguing on the phone; as he neared, he heard it was summer's voice, and although he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he still did.

"i don't see why you can't just stop seeing him," she said to whoever was on the phone

"It's lust, Mom," he heard her say with a voice that was raw with emotion.

she was arguing with her mom?

"please don't do this, please," he heard her beg before he watched her lower her phone from her ear. her mom must have hung up.

she let out a choked sob as she leaned back onto the wall. Summer could care less that she was in public; her mom was leaving her dad, claiming she finally learned was 'love' is.

gabe watched her for a moment, fighting with his thoughts on whether or not he should announce his presence.

"summer?" he said acting like he had just arrived.

the girl's head whipped up to see the last person she wanted to see her like this standing in front of her. She wiped her tears and rolled her eyes before trying to rush past him.

"you didn't see anything, perreault"

"are you alright," he said blocking her

"move" she told him

"summer"

"please, gabe," she said beggingly.

"you don't have to tell me what's wrong, just let me take you to get some food or something, I doubt you've eaten today," he said seriously.

summer did not expect him to say that. she was honestly expecting him to start mocking her and call her a spoilt princess.

"if I go, you won't tell anyone you saw me having a mental breakdown outside the library?" she said sniffingly.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone anyways" he told her.

she observed him, looking for any hint of jokingness, but he looked wholeheartedly genuine. she could use some food, but with gabe?

she decided against the alarms that were going through her head and agreed to join him.

"sorry i've been mean to you, i've just been going through a lot and it's not your fault at all, i'm sorry" she mumbled as they started walking towards the closest ihop.

"it's fine, i kind of got you weren't up to play today" he chuckled

"you call what we do playing," she said with a raised eyebrow

"well, I'm playing most of the time, but then you go deep, and I actually get mad," he said, smiling, seeing as he was finally pulling a smile out of the girl.

"im sorry it's just really funny when i piss you off" she laughed

"why," he said throwing his arms up

"same reason you do" she smirked as he playfully rolled his eyes

the two walked into the closest IHOP, not knowing the relationship that was beginning to blossom.

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 2

prev // next

a/n 1: ik i said fem reader but like there’s gender neutral pronouns, however the reader does have feminine presentations maybe? Like dresses, makeup, etc. 😭 idk how ts rlly works guys dont cancel me im a rainbow person too😞

cw cont: jealous sugu ,, questioning sugu ,, oblivious reader ,, thats all i got lmk if i missed smth

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 /j !! pls don’t tho <3

After your brief introduction with Geto, you were now sitting on a leather couch that overlooked the bright city of Tokyo. Gojo had stepped out to go handle whatever modeling business he had to attend to, leaving you with Geto. It’s been silent since then, even more than before the chatterbox out of all 3 of you had left.

You couldn’t help but admire the man before you, no doubt in the fact that he could’ve become a model himself if he wanted to. As if he could feel your gaze, he turned around to lock his deep lilac eyes with your own. You blinked. He smiled, softly but surely. Anything he would say, you would do. Whether out of fear, admiration, or something else, you didn’t know.

His studio was clean (cleaner than yours at least) yet had the essence of life and his own soul strewn over it. Silken fabrics adorned the windows and deep fabrics were strewn across the island in his office, his desk with a stack of papers and an open portfolio. With curiosity your gaze shifted to it, focusing in on it to try and see what was on them, his latest line maybe?

Yet before you could catch the slightest hint, his pale hands had flipped the open file closed. “I apologize for my lack of introduction, i’m Suguru Geto, you probably already know though.” You had to get a grip on yourself, he’s your…mentor and you can’t swoon around for your own mentor. “I’m Y/N L/N, I really love your work.” you quickly managed to get out.

A moment of pause, and he let out chuckle that was deep yet as light as a summer’s night breeze. “I’m quite familiar, I see your name in my notifications quite frequently.” And with that, summer’s scorching sun had graced itself into your cheeks, and if you couldn’t blush before you might as well have now. Your appreciation for his work posted online hadn’t gone unnoticed apparently. What’s worse, he knew your social media already and you can’t remember whether you left it private or public.

“..I’m sorry again for my harsh behavior it’s not everyday you meet your lovers ex and take them in-” He began but you quickly cut him short, hands frantically waving in front of you frown etched with wide eyes and scrunched eyebrows. “I have no feelings for him anymore and even if I did there’s no way I’d express them, especially considering everyones… positions. I didn’t even know I-” realizing your rambling, you finally looked him in the eye, a tight lipped smile pulled on his face. “Then there’s no point wasting time on informalities, is there then?” , not trusting your mouth you simply nodded.

“We have a tight schedule today, we begin with picking the next project.” we. i get to help my idol make his next project. a project that people are gonna wear. and people that actually know who made it instead of my occasional etsy shoppers.

When you returned to reality, you saw a collection of various designs laid before you on the coffee table. The seasons were shifting from summer to fall. Although it was early September, the industry never waited, not even on the leaves to fall. Your mouth fell to a small o , Suguru swore if you had gazed at him with the stars in your eyes, they might’ve been warm enough to make him melt.

wait, what, that’s not how it goes - sugu

You skim through each and every sketch, feeling as if you’ve discovered a new chest of gems, one that nobody knew of. You stopped when you fell across a particular sketch, not really a sketch but a photocopy. The style felt familiar, and upon closer examination, it’s my drawing

You look up at Geto, “I was thinking, there’d be no point in interning if you couldn’t exercise your own work. So, if it’s alright with you I was thinking to incorporate some of your ideas into the next line.”

A grin spread across your face, “Yes, Of Course! I’d love that so mu-” you were cut off with the door opening, and Geto quickly shut the folder with the sketches out of sight. You turned around to see the door, none other than Gojo standing there, playful pout gracing his face. “He’s not allowed to see the works in progress,” Geto explained. You tilted your head, no words, and like second nature Gojo responded “He wants to be mysterious and keep it a surprise like the bum he is.” Gojo had scrunched his nose at Geto, plopping himself down next to him, arm resting on the couch behind Geto’s back.

A twinge of jealousy pinched at Geto, seeing what’s probably surface level remnants of your past relationship come back to life like clockwork. He brushed it off, you had no feelings, Gojo has none, what could go wrong.

he forgot about himself

Yet, you had no feelings. None. You looked at the couple in front of you and exhaled with relief. you did it, you were over him, and you can carry on

It was dead silence now, how unfortunate. Why won’t your mouth work, say something. Thankfully, Geto and Gojo had been fussing over whatever rich people business Gojo had brought with him. Albeit, quite hushed. Praying your stomach wouldn’t go back to its old ways, you had jinxed yourself. A quite prominent growl had presented itself to the room. Geto glanced up at the clock, Gojo smiled. It was pushing 1 in the afternoon, unfortunately you couldn’t brush it off as only one person was sitting in the direction of the sound, and that person was you. Gojo had slightly toed Geto under the table.

“Next item on the schedule would probably better off as lunch, hm?” Geto offered, a teasing, forced?, smile on his face.

“Really?” You glanced down at the paper, lunch wasn’t for another hour? Quickly the paper was lightly tugged from your hold, two different hands yet adorned by similar rings. The two glanced at each other. “A designers life never sits set in stone, little one.” Gojo said in a sing-song.

“Ohh” you had bought it. They take this very seriously, perhaps it’s best not to mess around too much like this - Suguru

Quickly, the two men had already began to make their way out the door and to the elevator down to the city. You made your way to keep up with them, to wherever they were taking you.

©sugusoneandonly 2024

a/n 2 :: BONJOUR 🥖

This is very slow burn i think. Guys im being so fr idk what im doing im just throwing up my thoughts. Idk how to write enemies to lovers so i give u crisis sugu <33

[0w0tsuki]

Hey can we stop pretending like the only feasible reason that a trans woman would not like the term femboy is because she's some puritan anti-kinkster or somehow against men being able to dress femininely?

Like perhaps maybe the group of people who had to go through a phase of having to figure out and explore their femininity while being perceived by society as a man DON'T WANT to police the way men are able to present and express their genders? Like maybe WE DON'T want to make things even harder for transfem eggs. Like maybe we might have an interest in protecting transfem eggs and are speaking from the harm that we experienced as eggs ourselves?

Like maybe it might have to do with the fact that outside of Tumblr your average femboy is a trap fetishist? Like did we all forget the memes of "trying to figure out if the Astofolo icon is a trans woman or a fascist?"

Like some of us were discovering our transness during puberty in the early 2000s. You remember the early 2000s right? Where South Park and Family were at the height of their cultural influence, the R slur was a substitute for stupid, and bigotry was so common that "traps are gay" jokes could be made in polite company without having to worry about backlash. So imagine what kink spaces were like. Especially when you're a teenage trans girl just discovering herself.

I personally was so damaged by that experience that I began to believe that my gender-no my EXISTENCE was a fetish to be embarrassed and humiliated by and to be reviled for. I genuinely did not engage in relationships because I believed I was going to have to give in and tell them that they fell in love with a sex object. I did not believe that I was worthy of love. And it took YEARS of working through that for me to be comfortable with transitioning.

And after I worked through that I still have to deal with them. They haven't left kink communities they had their roots in. To this day there's a kink website I frequent that has community suggestions for tags IE: Unless the OP of the work goes back to delete this feature, anyone can "recommend" deletions or additions to the tags of the work. This is in place to make the proper labeling/searching/blacklisting of kinks easier to help curate content. In practice though it allows transmisoginists to basically graffiti any transfem artwork they come across. And let me tell you Femboy tags are getting added on right after they replace F/F with M/M on a transbians t4t work. And it happens so frequently that I have to check in about once a month to these trans tags to inform the most recent victim about what's happened to their works.

And outside of kink spaces I go into fandom spaces where I have had to deal with trap fetishists positioning themselves as fucking lore scholars when they harass trans positive folks about the Correct and Moral gender of the transmisoginistic character that they've got a fap folder dedicated. I got to see someone rise to twitch fame off the back of trap content turn into a “femboy icon” because he gave some of the trap money to trans charities and has a trans girlfriend. Who is still making trap content by the way.I've gotten to see reddit lose their absolute goddamn minds when the term Trap was banned from r/anime, shitting themselves so hard about it that they made their own separate website with transmisogynistic wojaks on the home page and everything. And then I got to see the fucking Bridget Debacle.

The reason I always talk about Bridgets trans confirmation is that it's the most widely recognized recent event where the exact shit I'm talking about was on full display. The reason why her being confirmed as a trans woman was such a big deal for trans girls was not just because she was one of the anime caricatures with her own folder in the trap enthusiasts masterbation portfolio. It was because she was GROUND ZERO for original coining of the word trap. And the EXACT same guys who deemed her a trap were now coming out in DROVES fuck EN MASS. But this time as self appointed femboys. We had so many examples of fucking Astofolo icon twitter facists trying to drudge up any type of left sounding argument using the femboy identity after having their initial arguments revolving around mistranslation were debunked. Crying that transfems were “stealing femboy representation” and trying to say that it was an “antitransmasculization force feminization trope” unironically. You know the cry of “Let men be feminine!!!!” y'all always bring out in defense of femboys. THAT'S who you're parroting! THAT'S who you got it from! We have had direct evidence of former trap fetishists dawning the term femboy when it became less cool to be openly transmisogynistic and then started appropriating leftist language to give their transmisogynistic arguments an air of legitimacy.

Like y'all need to understand that this magical space we got here is a FUCKING BUBBLE. Femboy communities in literally every other online space are former trap/sissy communities and are fucking cess pits of transmisoginy. I have seen posts by people who's only experience being around femboys was on Tumblr go out and check a place like r/mildfemboys to be horrified by the obsessiveness of the transmisogyny the femboys they interact with. And the femboys here aren't much better by treating being forced to acknowledge that these people exist and that is a still very active part of their community even if they don't personally interact with it as a personal attack on them and their gender presentation.

Y'all just want to pretend it doesn't exist and treat the idea that a Transfem might not WANT to interact with YOU(OH GOSH!!) because of it like it's some sort of personal judgement instead of something you're just going to have to accept happens when there's a large portion of people who share that title who are responsible for traumatizing them. But y'all got to go one step further. Y'all who go on about how femboys are our closest allies and about how “femboys and transfems are actually closer than transfems want to admit”. Y'all treat femboys like they're out little fucking brother in the queer community and it's our personal fucking responsibility to leave behind any personal baggage at the door in order to make them feel welcome.

Y'all can't handle the fucking idea that a trans woman might not be comfortable with sharing community with someone who's average member would call her a trap while jacking off to her selfies if he thought he could get away with it. That's she's not interested in playing the Astofolo icon game with them. Y'all gotta create a backwards narratives where she is against her own interests, where she is for making it harder for eggs in the future instead of you know. Asking for better from the communities those eggs are drawn too.

I have been forced to fucking put up with femboys in nearly every online space I've ever been in. And I

Am sick and fucking tired

Of putting up with femboys

[oh2z]

kiss me. kim jiwoong

word count: 1.7k

summary: jiwoong can’t seem to form words after feeling your hips suddenly move against his. highly suggestive. reader discretion advised.

contents: switch!jiwoong, switch!reader, studying, kissing, grinding, thigh riding, daddy kink, dirty talk

a/n: reblogs are very appreciated :’)

it was like any other thursday night; you, setting the table, and jiwoong, creating some sort of portfolio for his acting career. lonely, you sat on the couch and scrolled through your phone only to jump up in surprise when you felt yourself falling asleep. 

shaking it off, you walk your way over to jiwoong’s study room. leaning into the doorway, you find jiwoong siting at a desk, a folder and laptop open before him.

“oong!” you announced, sleepy but happy to see him.

he jumped a little at your voice, turning to look at you standing in the doorway. you were still wearing the nike pro shorts you love and the t-shirt that you had taken from his closet, your eyes a little puffy from tiredness.

“hey,” he said with a small smile. “were you just asleep?”

“almost, i caught myself” you replied, chuckling while shuffling into the room. “well.. whatcha doin?” you asked. he furrowed his brow, smiling though.

“you’re so cute, you know that right?” he said, scooting out a little. you smiled and nodded.

“im always cute,” you told him with a pout.

he chuckled and patted his lap. “yes, you’re my cutie, now come here. i’m just working on a portfolio.”

you scuttled over to his lap and climbed onto it. he seemed to have expected you to sit with your back to his chest, facing the desk, but instead you straddled one of his thighs, perching on it and leaning in to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“are you almost done?” you asked him, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“uh.. nearly there,” he mumbled, one hand now resting on your back.

“ooh,” you cooed. “my wittle oongie is so smart.”

he let out an airy laugh. “are you comfy baby?” he asked.

you nodded, but shifted your weight a little. you exhaled near his ear, your warm breath blowing over his skin. his other hand had made its way to rest on your waist, and he gripped it carefully.

“y/n,” he said, calling your attention to him as you raised your head off of his shoulder.

“yeah?” you asked.

“kiss me.” jiwoong whispered.

you were feeling shy and sleepy, but you stretched out to obey anyway, reaching for his mouth with yours. he let you lean in, sliding his hands from your waist to your hips. you gripped onto him and leaned forward hurriedly, wanting to touch him more. as you leaned forward your hips rocked, moving you on his thigh. your lips finally met his gently and he increased the pressure of the kiss quickly, his hands still resting on your hips.

a tiny moan passed from you to him, and you allowed yourself a bit more movement, rocking your hips on his thigh again slightly. he continued to kiss you firmly. his hands still holding onto you and you couldn’t help it as you move your hips again.

jiwoong detached his lips from yours, looking down at you curiously. “baby, what are you doing?”

a faint tint rose to your cheeks as you moved again, rocking yourself forward, whining a little.

“you’re a needy little thing tonight, aren’t you,” he murmured, smirking. “does my thigh feel good baby?” he said, moving his mouth close to your ear.

“yes sir,” you managed to whine out.

“fuck” jiwoong breathed in response to the title as you began to circle your hips, rubbing yourself against his thigh more obviously now. he slid his hands up and down your sides, moving them back and and around to your ass, squeezing it with both hands as you moved. you moaned loudly at the combination of his touch and your movement, grinding against him continuously.

you were breathing heavily and whining as you moved, riding his solid and muscular thigh needily, little moans and gasps coming out of you as he leaned back and watched you moving against him, his eyes sparking with something dark as his tongue passed over his bottom lip hungrily.

"jiwoongg," you whined, lowering your head to press your forehead against his shoulder, clutching handfuls of his shirt. you had never done this before. you had started moving on an impulse and you couldn't believe you were actually feeling so good. but then again it wasn't just the friction between your thighs that was driving you toward an orgasm, it was his hands on your body and his eyes watching you hungrily and his breath in your ear and your name on his lips as you rode him, his encouragement keeping you going.  

"that's right, use me," he murmured as you rocked your hips steadily. "daddy's thigh feels good doesn't it?" he asked. you tilted your head back and moaned loudly at his words, your mouth falling open at the title he gives himself.  

"yes," you whined, grinding harder.  

"tell me," he said.  

"f-feels good daddy," you moaned.  

"fuck," jiwoong breathed. He couldn't believe how hot and desperate you looked and how much it was turning him on to watch you using him like this. "kiss me," he commanded. and you couldn't obey fast enough, leaning forward quickly and kissing him hungrily, mouth open, tongue out as you neared your release, warmth pooling between your legs where you rested against him. you moaned into his mouth and he kissed you back just as messily, loving your sloppy, needy kisses as you sucked on his bottom lip and clutched his shoulders. "i want you to come on me baby," he said against your lips. "can you do that for me? hm? can you ride daddy's thigh until you come?"  

you were breathing heavily and still rocking your hips and you didn't know how this had happened, you just knew you wanted to do what he told you and you wanted it now. you tilted your head back and closed your eyes and suddenly jiwoong’s mouth was on your throat, his lips tracing it until he found a spot that made you whimper, taking up purchase there as he helped you move your hips, sucking against your neck harshly and sending a little shot of pain right through you.  

"j- jiwoong! i'm close." he just smacked your ass one more time, suddenly bouncing his leg beneath you. you cried out and he did it again, making your cry die into a whimper. with a little bite to your neck and a last harsh suck he pulled away, just as he moved his leg again, clenching his jaw and bearing his teeth as he did it.  

you finally fell apart, whining his name over and over as you gripped his shoulders tightly and he held on to your hips, steering you in little circles through your orgasm as you came down.  

you panted and rested your head on his shoulder, noticing for the first time now that your senses were returning to normal, that your knee rested near his crotch and he was pressing solidly against you. he was so big and so hard and he must have been uncomfortable in those tight jeans. you knew you should offer to take care of him, but you also knew that he has an important portfolio due tomorrow morning.  

"oh," you said, feeling more like yourself now, and slightly shy about what you had just done. "sorry about that jiwoong," you mumbled, moving to get off of him. but he held onto you.

“what are you sorry for y/n? that was so fucking hot,” he said, chuckling. he pressed a soft kiss to the spot on you neck that was already purpling. “i should apologize, i may have gone a little overboard with this,” he mumbled, looking at it.

“that’s okay. i like marks.” you said casually.

“fuck, y/n.” he breathed as he helped you adjust your position in his lap, tracing lazy circles on your back with his fingers.

“hm?” you absentmindedly asked, fingers trailing his jaw line, admiring the soft glow of his skin.

“i think i just fell in love with you... again.” he laughed.

“oh you’re just being dramatic,” you teased shyly.

“i know what you just did was like the hottest thing ever - you were so needy and cute and you just used me how you wanted - and now you’re just sitting on my boner like you don’t even care that it got me hard - and oh my god,” he paused his rant, as if he’s suddenly realizing something. “you made me think i was in charge. and i definitely was not.” he mumbles off into another jiwoong-like tangent.

you giggled and leaned up to kiss his neck once more.

“i-- i wasn’t done.. telling you why i love you,” he mumbled as you continued to press kisses along his neck, sloppy, open mouthed ones with your tongue tracing the lines of his throat. his hands tightened on you.

“mm please continue then,” you said against his skin.

“i.. suddenly do not remember what i was going to say.” he blinked. you giggled, in love with the way jiwoong is so endearing in your eyes.

“hey! i still remember that you have a port- whatever it’s called due,” you squint at him.

“mm i just want to stay with you right now,” jiwoong pouts and says in the cutest way possible.

“no,” you huff at jiwoong and turn your head so that you’re looking directly in his eyes. “you need to do this bub, i know how important this is” you tell him, sincerely.

“okay, okay, only because you said so,” he says, sitting upright in his desk chair now. “but you have to stay with me” he mumbles.

“that’s fine with me” you smile at him.

as you were readjusting your position on top of jiwoong, you couldn’t help but notice the raging boner that he still had. feeling playful, you quickly peck jiwoong on the lips before sliding off of him onto your knees.

“hey-” jiwoong protested but was soon cut off by you saying, “aren’t you supposed to be finishing your work? shh” you smirk with a glint of playfulness in your eyes as you place your hands on his inner thighs, lightly massaging them.

“but what about dinner?” jiwoong asked with a shaky breath, followed by what feels like an insanely large amount of silence. soon after, both of you bursted into a field of giggles, thinking about the love you two each have for each other.

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ELEVEN — ALL TOMORROW'S KEGGERS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: after you visit an old stomping ground to pad out your college resume and eddie agonizes about the what of what are you, you both return to the place where all this mess began--a classic harrington rager. content warnings: written in the immersive second person (you/yours), oc has a name, background and she/her pronouns but no physical descriptions. era typical misogyny, homophobia, general bad bitch scheming. mentions of drug dealing, sexual situations and strong language. minors fuck off. word count: 8.7k

Dear reader,

A while ago, I mentioned that thing that Joan Didion said about staying on nodding terms with the people we used to be. 

Lucky for me and my once-fervent need to be inviolable from all angles, I have a couple of versions of Lacy I can choose from. 

Depends on what I need from her.

The hot sprawl of the community hall drags your sense memory kicking and screaming back to age sixteen. 

Scarlet nails tugged a rough line through your scalp, elevating your hair so high it might as well apply for zoning permission. An acrid blast of Aquanet settled right in your bottom lashes. Your mother loomed over your shoulder in the mirror, her cigarette ashing into some poor bitch’s retainer case. 

“The way they run these things nowadays… it’s a disgrace,” she tutted, but not to you, “These girls are animals.”

That’s gotta be a fucking fire hazard, right? 

“Well, if Lacy’s an animal,” a flame haired Ann Perkins guffawed, yanking a backcombed rat of your hair upwards—ow, “she’s a goddamn gazelle, Glory.”

“First kill?” You didn’t miss the smugness curling around her Elizabeth Arden lips, hunching your body glittered arms inward. 

“No—god, no, I just mean with how graceful she is. My Carol, bless her heart, she’s got the coordination of her father after a slab of Old Milwaukee. You remember I told you about trying to teach her baton?”

“She sent it flying through the neighbour’s windshield,” you giggled fondly, recalling Carol telling you how much of a stupid cooze her mom was for trying to teach her in the first place. ‘Throwing some stick around—who does she think I am, Lassie?’

“Don’t smile,” your mom slapped your shoulder sharply, “It’ll smudge your gloss.”

You scrubbed it off in the bathroom moments later, reapplying a layer of scarlet lacquer you knew she’d call whorish. Too late.

Knocking back a swig of Diet Coke and two rainbow pills, you took the stage to claim runner up in the Hawkins division of the American Teen Princess pageant, meeting Gloriana’s seething scowl from the audience with your own Vaselined failure of a smile. 

The lipstick had lost you the crown, of course. That was the winning theory. ‘If you’d have just done what I told you…’

The chemical sting of Aquanet still hurts your eyes, but you’re not the target this time. 

See, a portfolio of writing is one thing, but the other thing that college applications generally look for is community participation. Volunteer work. Charity grubbing. And gracing Eddie Munson’s lunch table with your occasional presence apparently doesn’t count. 

Just kidding. Kind of. 

Point is, you needed something quick and dirty, yet passably prestigious, with people who would bend to your will. And there’s no one more malleable than insecure high school girls competing in a beauty pageant in small town Indiana. 

“Now, Lacy, we are delighted to have you here helping out,” says Claudia Henderson, a one time multi-title holder (just short of Miss America apparently—‘But then they stopped giving homely girls a pass; poor Claudia never stood a chance,’ your mom had told you) and the kind of kindly woman that loves to clutch your arm while you walk. 

Ordinarily, you’d be repulsed by such a gesture but you’re desperate. 

Before you get a chance to gush falsely, tell her how grateful you are for the opportunity, Claudia cuts you off. 

“But I do hope that this isn’t some covert effort by your mother to get back in our good books—because, golly, well, that bridge is burned!”

Of course. Your mom had attempted to sabotage Tammy Thompson’s performance portion by mixing a laxative into her milkshake, because a shit show like that would make your little poetry reading look positively Carnegie worthy. But she hadn’t covered her tracks well enough and got sniffed out by the pageant committee. So had Tammy, poor thing. Horrible day to wear white chiffon.

Incredible that it was that they were still hung up on, and not the… everything else you and your family had going on. You do a decent impression of cringing, looking at Claudia with mournful eyes. 

“Claudia, I swear, this is all me,” you assure her, “The time I spent doing pageant prep was just so formative—I think I would’ve been a lot worse off facing, well, certain challenges without it. I’d really like the chance to give that back to the girls.”

Admittedly, your hours spent in front of the mirror training your face to look earnest for the interview portion hadn’t gone to waste on the stand during your father’s trial. 

“That is just incredible to hear, sweetie. And between you and I, you’re really saving our keisters because the girl we had helping our hopefuls out with speech prep dropped out last minute!”

That’d be the current debate team captain, Kate something-or-other. She was easy enough to take out—posing as a concerned member of the local Christian youth group, you’d placed a call to her ultra-conservative parents about her hanging out with Billy Hargrove. Which was total bullshit, of course. Billy wouldn’t approach an ex-or-current band geek with a hazmat suit on. A shame, really. The band kids were the only niche that could rival Billy’s baseless horniness. His dream girl could be hanging out behind a trombone someplace, squeezing her knees together. 

Anyway, did you feel great about selling Kate out like that? Honestly, you didn’t care about it too much one way or another. The maneuvre felt very classic Lacy, which was in part a little shameful and in part incredibly satisfying to know that, when it comes to manipulation, you’re still batting at a professional level. 

Claudia wheels you and your elbow around the room, the oxygen thick with sweat and body spray and pageant application forms. A couple of the would-be queens catch your eye–homely girls, as your mother would call them, who were duped into their well-meaning parentals or sisters or guidance counselors into thinking that doing the pageant was a great way to make friends. A boost to their self esteem. A chance to really show the town what they’re made of!

Someone should tell them to run, but it’s not gonna be you. 

“Oh, Lacy!” Claudia suddenly half-shrieks, halting you with a sharp tug, “Meet my special little guy! This is Dustin, he goes to Hawkins Middle. I like to bring him around to meet the girls so he learns how to treat a lady. It’s so important for boys, don’t you think?”

Yeah, start the little lotharios young. You tilt your chin in acknowledgment of the kid, who squints at you from under the rim of a ball cap. Claudia’s attention is diverted by some other poor bastard helping to organize this dog and pony show, but she keeps her hand firmly on your elbow. It’s starting to feel a little like you’re being led around the prison yard. You attempt a tight smile at her son, who’s still looking you up and down. 

“Hey, I know you!” he barks– seems like lack of volume control runs in the family, “You’re Nancy’s friend. You slept over at the weekend. I’m Mike’s friend? I ate the green peppers off your pizza slice…? Not ringin’ any bells? Really?”

“Oh, right,” you lie, having no recollection of ever meeting this child, “Pleasure, sure.” 

The way he’s surveying you is a little much. “So, what was up with that guy?” he asks you, tone dropping conspiratorially. You don’t know why, but you feel like middle schoolers shouldn’t be able to do that. 

“Excuse me?”

“Me and the guys saw some scary dude climbing out of Nancy’s window. Is he–” 

What’s up with kids and just having to say any old thing? What happened to being seen and not heard? What happened to being intimidated by your high school elders? If his mother wasn’t standing right next to you, you’d flip that little propeller cap off his head and tell him to go fetch. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The kid cocks his head to the side. “Positive? Because it sure looked like–”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. –Justin, wow, you’re such a card, ha ha ha,” you slip your arm out of Claudia’s as subtly as a woman breaking into a cold sweat can, “Claudia, I’ve got to dash unfortunately, but you’ve got my number! Let me know when I can come and meet with the girls, won’t you? I’m so excited.”

You’re so absolutely fucking not. 

Footsteps burn a hot trail through that creaking hall, not quite avoiding a couple of stares as you flit past. Of course, since Ray’s great return brought a whole new batch of grist for the Hawkins’ rumor mill, you’d been subject to more whispers than usual. Any move you made was in some way looped back to either groveling for the town’s forgiveness, assuming your father’s criminal crown, or generally being a case for pity or ridicule. Sometimes both, if people were really creative. Stood to reason that the only person you want to see is someone who’s lived with notoriety like that for most of their life. 

Ivana has parked across two spots in front of the community hall, her green Buick gleaming under an unseasonable glare of sunlight. It’s still far too cold to have the top down like she does but she does and she sits bundled in the front seat. A leopard print fur coat, a cigarette, a pair of sunglasses perched in her platinum beehive.

“Christ, girlie, I thought they’d tied you to the stake in there.”

“My escape was narrow, as always,” you smirk, sliding into the passenger seat and tugging your own coat around you a little tighter. “What’s up with the exposure?”

“Feeling the wind whip your face is good for you, especially when you spend most of the day craned over books like you do.”

“This coming from the owner of the biggest bookstore in town.” 

“Only,” Ivana corrects you, as she so often does, “Only bookstore in town. You saw what happened when B. Dalton tried to muscle in on my territory.”

“You admitting to knowing something about that mall’s fiery end, Ivana?” Horseshit bombs and the Russian mafia come to mind, but Ivana just cackles loudly and tears out of the parking lot at breakneck speed. 

The frigid sting of wind on your face does feel fantastic, you have to hand it to her. Resetting your base temperature from boiling, where it’s rocketed between school and home and Eddie and everything. Much as it’s thrilling, exploring this new aspect of your… dynamic with him, on top of everything else, it’s a lot. 

You’re not quite ready to classify your feelings about Eddie without your chest feeling like it’s going to cave in. Every other conversation winds up with your hands all over each other, clumsy in the communication of your unrepressed passion. And it is great, don’t let yourself be misunderstood, you crave it when it’s not happening, and boy do you beat yourself up when you stop it from going all the way but… 

The tape keeps getting tangled. Like you’re playing the right song at the wrong part of the movie. It keeps coming out warped and rushed, and you keep feeling like somebody is watching you two.

You two don’t belong shoved into clandestine corners, making out on the sly. You’d been hiding the things that you care about in places like that your whole life. Your books and records under your bed, your clothes in the back of your walk-in wardrobe. Your thoughts in your journal. Your real face from your fake friends.

Eddie’s like a great, flowering plant that has spread his curling vines into every facet of your life, taking root right at the center. 

He may not know it, he may be playing the part of being very understanding but he demands light and care. And dirt.

It scares you.

But that tearing breeze settles your nerves, and those are rarely settled around Ivana herself. She has a preternatural way about her. She knows just when to step out of the shadows and twist fate so your path gets a refresh. First, your job at the Bookstore. Now, letting you into her inner sanctum. 

Brambles clatter against the green paintwork of the car as you careen down a backroad off of Holland. Gravel sprays as Ivana hauls you up her drive and you catch a fresh smell– to your immediate right, you’re looking out on the still, chilled expanse of Lover’s Lake. You breathe in that post-winter thaw, curling your wistful hands over the passenger side door and she seems to notice. 

“Hell of a view, right?”

The slam of Ivana hip-checking her car door closed is the loudest sound out here. 

“Peaceful,” you remark, following her up the sagging wooden porch. Another look over your shoulder. You were used to seeing Lover’s Lake from another part of the embankment, usually crowded with cars and beer coolers, bodies in bathing suits baying for attention. You’d been one once, trying desperately to look comfortable in your sweltering skin only to sneak off and take shelter in Main Street Vinyl.  

The frigid water seemed more inviting right now. 

Another house, this total slouch of a place, stares right at you from across the lake. 

“Nice neighbors?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Ivana says, shoving the ancient front door open. 

Following her inside, you have to suppress a gasp. 

Ivana’s house is no mansion, but the way she’s filled it makes it feel like one. Under vaulted ceilings, everything seems to be cast in a rich, aquatic shadow. Tendrils of greenery embrace each corner and even hang from the ceilings. Threadbare rugs of once-moneyed origin muffle you underfoot. Chairs of velvet sag and every single goddamned surface is covered in tchotchkes, magazines, scarves, photographs. Even the Steiner piano. You catch a glimpse of the pictures in gilded frames as you slowly follow Ivana toward the back of the house–Ivana with equally glamorous looking friends, dancing at what you’re sure is Studio 54. Ivana standing next to Andy Warhol, a disgruntled looking Norman Mailer lingering in the background of the shot. Ivana on her wedding day. And second wedding day. And third wedding day. 

Your chest throbs furiously. 

You hear Ivana creek up the stairs and you’re not quite sure what the proper procedure is here– do you follow her? Would she push you back down the stairs if you tried such a thing? She’s always seemed like the type. Fiercely private. Only sharing the tiniest tidbits of this rich meal of a life she lived before she came back to Hawkins. 

“Come on, girlie. I ain’t got all day.”

You take your opportunity and scarper up the stairs behind her. Eyes flit over even more photographs as you ascend, a smile of disbelief crossing your lips at the sawn-off shotgun mounted on her wall. Like she’s Annie Oakley or somebody. She could be. It’s evident to you now that Ivana has been just about everyone there is to be. It ought to intimidate you, really, bearing witness to someone who’s so successfully lived life before you’ve even begun to, but it doesn’t. The closeness, clutteredness, coziness of this house lulls you into a funny kind of serenity. 

“I just don’t get you, Ivana,” you say, not entirely wanting to catch her in earshot as you float into her bedroom. Dark and plush, like everything else. A light comes on in her overstuffed closet. 

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Of course, she hears everything. 

You approach the heaving wardrobe, hands running along silk, chiffon, velvet. Broderie, brocade, lace. 

“How the hell do you go from having a full life like this,” you grip the sleeve of what could be one of Ivana’s three wedding dresses, “and end up back in East Jesus, Indiana? I mean you’ve–you’ve been everywhere. You’ve done everything. How can you stand it here?” 

Ivana tilts her head at you from where she sits on the ottoman at the end of her bed. Canopy, naturally. She looks at you as if really taking you in for the first time. You shift a little, from one foot to the other. It doesn’t feel probing and accusatory, not like how your mother looks at you. More like she’s reading your palm.

“I wanted to come home,” she says, simply. “Had my fill. Got tired. Wanted to remember what fresh air felt like, and realized I preferred it to car horns.” 

“But why not, like… upstate New York? Somewhere actually scenic and peaceful, why Hawkins, Indiana?”

“I wanted to come home, I said. Now,” she gestures to the masses of clothes, “You’ve got ten minutes. One outfit. Dig.” 

—

“This is, like, beat for beat my worst fucking nightmare, I want you to know that.” 

“You know what, shoot me down but I think you wanna go to this–I think you’re getting nervous because of how excited you are!”

Ronnie Ecker aims a finger gun right between Eddie’s eyes. “Name yourself, body snatcher. Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my best friend.”

She’s got him point blank on that one. He’s acting a little out of sorts–but, in his defense, he’s having, as Rick Lipton might call it, a total wig out. Eddie’s been invited to Steve Harrington’s kegger under absolutely no pretense (but he’s bringing a pocketful of drugs anyway, of course). Eddie’s going to see the (ex) most popular girl in school there, which’d be you. 

And Dio willing, you two are gonna disappear into some side room where he’s gonna trace his leaking cock against every inch of your silky, perfumed skin while you hiss his name into the air like it’s the only word you deem worthy enough to speak. 

It’s fine. It’s cool. It’s casual.

Eddie tries to shake that thought right out his head under the guise of turning to the mirror and fixing his hair. Fingertips raking into the waves, an attempt to make ‘em look less… or more… he’s got no idea. He’s got no earthly idea. So he huffs.

“What have I got to be excited about?!” Ronnie sighs dramatically, thunking herself into the nearby armchair in Eddie’s room that’s covered in clothes–outfits he’s tried on, like a different jeans-and-t-shirt combination will actually make a difference. “Don’t pretend like I’m not hauling ass to the first party of my high school career so I can be, like, a freak diversion while you two sneak off and–”

Amazing how Eddie’s managed to keep this secret from Ronnie for this long, but she’s got it pretty much sniffed out anyway.

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You, Eddie Munson, you’re gonna stand there, preening yourself in the mirror like a fuckin’ peacock telling me the eye contact you two have been making with each other since you ‘made up’ has been completely Christian-minded? Smell test certified?” Ronnie spits. “I just got into New York University, you little bitch! I cannot be fooled! You boinked and it’s scrawled all over your face in her lipstick!”

“Dude, do not say boinked–”

“You’ve greeted her carnally!”

“--who are we, Sam and Diane?”

“If everybody knows your name, man!”

Look, here’s the thing. 

You and Eddie have been making out heavy, stolen moments in crooks like the newspaper room after hours, under the bleachers, the decommissioned bathroom, the driver’s seat of Eddie’s van, grinding it out harder than a couple of drumline dorkos from band which has led to Eddie wrecking a couple pairs of boxers a lot sooner than he’d like to. (Which you hadn’t laughed at him about–you’d liked it. It was so fucking hot that you liked it that just the thought of you liking it makes his breath snag if he thinks about it too hard.) 

But. Skin-to-skin contact has been… frustratingly minimal, since that night in your bedroom. 

See, it’s like, you get there. Eddie’s lips are edging south of your collarbone, his fingers digging into the flush of your tits through your bra and something snaps in you. You go from rolling those rapturous hips into him (god, fuck, don’t–) to tensing right up, looking over your shoulder, expecting to see a door creaking open. 

Fear freezing the edges of your features, even if your touch is still hot on him. 

“We should–” “... yeah. Yeah. Of course, Lace.” Eddie’s trying really hard not to be an asshole. But it’s hard when… you’re hard. And you, you get him fucking full mouth salivating, forged in the flames of Mount Doom hard. Those tight little skirts you wear are so much more enticing now that he knows what the heavenly enclave feels like underneath them.

Bu-ut.

Your paranoia is working overtime. 

Your paranoia is making his paranoia work overtime. 

Because, what if after all your dancing around each other, you don’t actually want him and you’ve got no idea how to let him down gently? 

Which, Eddie reassures himself, does not track for you. It’d be pretty damn easy to think that your edges have softened with the events of the past couple months, but he’s had a front row seat to how you’ve shed your old edges to reveal different, weirder, more jagged edges. Edges he’s had a pleasure acquainting himself with. You’d have no problem telling him to take a short walk off Sattler’s Quarry if you wanted to. 

Eddie adores that about you, the poor sucker. 

Anyway, Ronnie Ecker. Dead to rights. Like always. 

“If I tell you…” comes the measured grit through his teeth. “... you have to swear, Ronnie, I’m so goddamn serious–”

She hitches forward in her seat, eyes blazing. “Dude. Scouts. Whatever.”

Eddie’s shoulders drop and it all comes out in one big exhale as his rings drag down his cheeks, “GoodbecauseI’vebeenwantingtotellyousobadohmyGOD. Like, oh my god.”

“So full pen or–”

“Be a gentleman, Ecker, Jesus! But yeah, home fuckin’ run.”

“Good?”

His eyes careen back in his skull and he pitches his palms out like a Pentecostal preacher. “Words… evade. Infernal choirs sang. I left a part of my soul in her–”

“Nope, too much!” Ronnie blanches, waving her hands in the air. 

“Okay, okay, okay, but Ronnie– you can’t say shit to her. Promise me.” 

“Why? We’re friends too, unless you conveniently forgot again.”

“No, I know that, I just–” Eddie swallows, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. His voice comes out small. “I don’t wanna scare her off. She’s fragile. 

“She’s fragile? We’re talking about the same Lacy Doevski here, right?”

“Right, the one whose dad just got out of lockup. Fra-gee-lay,” Eddie emphasizes, notes of Old Man Parker, “It’s just… easier like this, right now.”

“Well… is easy what you want?” Trust Ronnie to come through with a gut punch out of left field. 

Eddie’s mouth bobs open to fish out some bullshit answer, but not until his bedroom door flies open. 

“Goddamn, kid, you gotta get the maid in here.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Al Munson props his hip against the doorframe, sucking all the air from the room. He looks better than the last time Eddie saw him, at least, not like he’s three days cokebent and clammy. More like he went someplace and got a shave. 

“If you really didn’t want me comin’ round, you’d tell your uncle to start lockin’ the door. Now, you got something belonging to me– that Stooges shirt, where’s it at?”

A hot line of panic flares up the back of Eddie’s neck. Stooges shirt, darkened on the shoulders from droplets from your wet hair. Stretched over–

“I’unno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yes, you do, Eddie,” his dad says, crossing the bedroom’s threshold. Al’s got springs under the balls of his feet, moving with that irritatingly happy-go-lucky effeteness. “It’s my lucky shirt! I need that thing–” 

“Hasn’t done you a whole lotta good so far, Allen,” Ronnie mumbles from where she’s bunched up on the armchair. 

“Ronnie,” Al’s eyes narrow; they’ve never liked each other because Ronnie’s too goddamn smart for her own good and therefore uncharmable, “How’zabout that for a breath of stale air. Get up a sec, would’ja?”

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go anyway.” Eddie jerks his head toward the door and Ronnie scuttles out ahead of him. He pauses for a breath, watching his dad rifle through the rejected shirts slung over the armchair. “There’s nothing in here worth stealing, by the way. Just in case things have gone so far south already that you’re diggin’ in people’s pockets for spare change.”

Those cut-and-paste Munson eyes survey Eddie and he feels his fist flex. Al’s been a loose cannon lately. 

“Big night?”

“Party.” He should know what that means. 

“Well, Ed,” Al closes a few steps between them, and Eddie resists the urge to back up. Or wind up. His voice drops so that Ronnie doesn’t catch it. “When you’re ready to graduate from sellin’ ten spots at parties, you let me know. We got something prestigious brewing. Could be the makin’ of you.” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, mirthful from his back molars. “Graduation’s a little ways off for me, Dad.” 

He catches up with a tutting Ronnie, slamming the front door behind him and heading for the van. 

“Seriously, dude, you got a case for a restraining order the way that motherfucker’s conducting himself lately.”

“I got a crowbar and a map of the Indiana Dunes that’d do just about the same thing, I just need a free weekend.”

“Hey!” a voice calls from behind them, and Eddie and Ronnie swivel toward it. 

No stemming the smile that peels across his face, heart thud-thudding back into motion. A soothing cool comes over him at the sight of you, settling him right back into his body. You, dressed to the nines. You, coiffed up like you’re hellbent on making an impression. My little cold front.

“Shotgun!” you chirp, skipping toward the van in your spindly little shoes. Both Eddie and Ronnie are rendered speechless for a beat or two. 

Shit, you look good.

“There’s only one fucking passenger seat!” Ronnie protests. 

“Fine, Ronnie, I’ll sit in your lap– is that what you want?”

Eddie lets you two nonsensically bicker as he guns the van to life, sweeping out of the park in a thunderous roar. He’s trying to stay tuned into the conversation you’re having, he really is, but the way you’ve got your shoulders thrown back and cleavage thrust out, Ronnie squished beside you, is focus-stealing.

“Wait, you’re volunteering at the beauty pageant?” Eddie finally clues in, “Sorry, Lace, there’s no way that throwing glitter on bimbos in bathing suits counts as community service. Otherwise, I’d be ve-ry committed to my community.”

“Right?! Like, how did I get stuck with helping out Granny’s retirement home friends? I could be checking chicks for visible bra straps but I’m trapped with a bunch of senile losers that smell like clove suckers.”

“It’s not just an ogle-fest, you knuckle-draggers,” you roll your eyes, “There’s an entire interview portion, too. You know, where the judges have to pretend to care about what these girls have to say– and it’s my job to make sure they don’t sound entirely braindead.”

“You love an insurmountable challenge, huh, Lace?” 

“Never tell me what I can and can’t mount, Munson,” you purr–he’s almost sure he hears you purr. The way you look at him over the center console, eyes all a-felined, does the job for him. 

Ronnie keeps her mouth shut, and he silently thanks her for it. 

Festivities are fully in swing as you all pull onto Harrington’s street–plus the festivity-specific problem of there being almost no parking anywhere. Cars of your classmates clog the tree-lined streets, along with the vehicles of the wealthier Loch Nora contingent. 

Eddie slaps his hands against the wheel. “How the fuck does he get away with this shit?” 

“Senior year pass,” you remark, “Plus, Steve’s always-AWOL parentals. Somehow, his shitty home life gives way to an endless well of sympathy on Richie Rich Row here, so he kind of gets carte blanche.” 

“The world’s luckiest latchkey k–woah!”

Reeboked feet have to slam down hard on the brakes, as Eddie almost takes out Robin Buckley, hunching her shoulders and marching toward the Harrington’s porch. The screech of the tires almost sends her leaping out of her skin. 

“Watch it, asshole! Pedestrians still exist, you know!”

“Sorry, Buckley!” Eddie calls out down the window wound low, “For what it’s worth, you’re blending into the tarmac just great!”

Robin scoffs and continues stalking. Your head snaps to Ronnie. 

“Ron,” you simper, “Why don’t you go make sure Robin’s not suffering from post traumatic? I would be, if I almost got mowed down by this decommissioned tank.” 

Her brow screws up like she’s about to answer, but genius little you, this works on a couple of levels. For one, your insistence that something will happen between Buckley and Ronnie if you keep pressing their heads together like Barbies, and for two… Half a second alone. 

Half a second is all Eddie needs. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna remember where I parked if one of you isn’t here,” he tacks on, as if he needs the support, “And she–” by whom he means you, “--has priors in this house. Off ya go, Ecker.” 

Banished to the pavement, Ronnie snarls something about hurrying back, which you promise her that you will. Eddie doesn’t promise anything. If he had his way, he’d rare right out of Loch Nora and keep driving, you to his beautiful right and watch as moonlight started to pool in the window over your skin. Just keep turning the wheel, so he could keep looking at you. 

You point out a spot a street over and Eddie kills the engine. 

“Hi,” he rasps, angling his torso toward you. He doesn’t stem his smile.

“Hello,” you say in return. Your neck rolls against the headrest. You’re looking at him in a slow drip through your bottom lashes. 

Eddie has to remind himself to breathe, and his first intake is kinda ragged. It makes you laugh, this little gaspy sound that sounds like a prelude to something else. Your stare breaks, gliding to the dashboard. 

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Let’s shall.”

Eddie snaps back to life, dashing out of the driver’s side to help you down from the passenger’s. Your fingers give his hand a little extra squeeze and he takes this very, very liminal opportunity to hold you at arms length, pirouetting you under his hand.

“Sorry. I’m sorry! I had to!” he faux-apologizes. “Gotta test the durability of these shoes, in case you need to make a run for it later.” 

Your laugh comes out uncorked and full-bodied and it makes Eddie feel like his head is levitating two feet above his neck. 

“Relieving yourself of your hero duties already, huh?”

Silk spills over your curves, skirt billowing around your thighs as you move. That makes him feel very much in his body. You look ravishing, your hair crashing into a wave as you come to a smiling stop in front of him. 

Eddie presses his mouth to your fingers, clasped around his hand, and hears the bubble of your breath hiccup. 

“Not by a long shot.”

A warm berry encases your lips that he wants to see smudged. He wants to wear it on his collarbone like a second chain. 

He wonders if he knows you look like you’re trying to get ravished. 

Of course you do. There’s not a single thing you’ve ever put on your body that wasn’t on purpose. 

Which, if Eddie considers it, now includes him.

You both barely remember to unweave your fingers as you approach Harrington’s house.

—

A meticulously curated outfit makes all the difference, especially if you’re reentering society. And you are, in a manner of speaking.

Returning to the scene of the crime, the inciting incident that saw you in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van the better part of a bottle of vodka deep and a bruise blooming. Bridges actively aflame between you and those you once considered your closest friends. 

They’d given you the matches though. Flicked them at you, expected you to do nothing. 

It occurs to you now, as a lingering touch stays between your and Eddie’s pinkie fingers and you cross the porch, that you hadn’t so much as looked in the rearview mirror to assess the damage. You looked through his windscreen as he drove you home. 

“Divide and conquer?”

“I’ll find you.”

Eddie used to exist to you as an eyesore on the peripheries of parties like this. Here, where you always felt you were sitting alone on the observation deck, watching everyone else have fun and learning how to mimic it for your own gain. Patching yourself together. You felt him leering over your shoulder sometimes, separate from it too.

Now, he’s the boy spinning you around on the pavement, looking at you like you’re a whole person. 

So this should be interesting. 

The two of you shove past a couple of clumping bodies on the doorstep, eyes already starting to dagger in your direction. Into the foyer, towards the kitchen, those looks become more and more and more focused. Feels like you’re wearing piano wire for a choker. 

‘What the fuck…’ ‘Remember the last time she was here?’ ‘Woah, smackdown rematch. Somebody get Carol.’

Eddie gets a little closer than he needs to, feigning a stumble into you, just to brush against your hardened shoulders and whisper, ‘Head up, queenie. It’s not like they’ve got a guillotine,’ before he disappears to make rent.

The smile you’re about to sneak to him dies on your lips as your name rings out from somewhere in the milieu, someplace near the kitchen. 

“Lacy!” 

All that cruising for a parking space and you hadn’t locked eyes on a Ford Cortina, had you? 

The tardiest student enrolled at Amherst or wherever half-jogs toward you with a smile that makes your stomach lurch. Cold sweat starts to prick against your hairline. Excuse me?

“Oh! Hi!” you hit a higher octave than you were intending, for sure, you can tell by the look on his face. Eyebrows all shot up. “What the… fuck are you doing here?”

College guy shakes his head a little, confused. “You mentioned you were gonna be here.”

“...and you took that as an explicit invitation?” You’re still technically dating him, dumbass. Smile. “Just kidding! It is. Good. To see you.”

A cursory squeeze of his bicep. Christ, you’re bad at this when you’re not prepared. Extra bad at this when your first thought, when you’re doing bad, is where’s Eddie. When did that symbiosis develop exactly? 

“Listen, can we go somewhere?” Oh, Jesus. “Talk? I tried to call your place a little earlier and–” Oh, Jesus! This guy looks at you with earnest eyes that you couldn’t tell the color of if you had a gun to your head. Bodies jostling around you, you make the choice to drop in and act a little left of sober. 

“That sounds ah-mazing, but I do have to pee, so,” you shoot him a glimmering smile which ain’t takin’. “Grab me a drink and I’ll find you? Grab me a drink and I’ll find you.” 

Bolt! You’re stepping over knees as you weave your way up Harrington’s impossible staircase to the second floor bathroom, downing a shot from a tray on your way. Five minutes inside Mrs Harrington’s immaculately designed proto-modern lavatory should give you enough chutzpah to take on the rest of this night, right? Maybe a fully clothed lie down in the jacuzzi tub. 

The ten-girl deep line outside the locked door says different.

From the seventh spot, Carol Perkins cranes her perfectly coiffed strawberry head out and locks eyes with you. 

No guillotine, huh?

—

Eddie’s gotta wonder, what the hell the Harrington household looks like when it isn’t throbbing with mainstream radio rock and gyrating teenagers. The house is a showroom of suburban perfection, but whenever Steve throws a party, it goes full bacchanal. 

Tonight Eddie intends to take full and rapid advantage of the skewed consciousness of his classmates and copious amounts of jello shooters. 

Like, yeah, Harrington might have graciously invited him and not directly asked him to peddle his wares by the pool like a fucked up candy stand, but you gotta seize opportunity wherever you find it. People see him here, they know what to do. They know his purpose. 

It’s not as if Eddie’s here to mingle, okay?

Do what they expect of you until you don’t have to anymore.

The short term objective? Empty his stash, stuff his pockets and steal away with you into one of the billion bedrooms this mini-mansion holds. But, much to Eddie’s chagrin, that means fighting through the din of Cyndi Lauper and body odor first. 

Conjured by his very words, Andy Sweeney swings right into Eddie’s path and yoinks the beer that Eddie was reaching for. The kid doesn’t even look beyond the brim of his baseball cap to notice he’s standing there. He’s too busy jawing with some other basketball tool. 

“Lissen, man, say what you want,” Sweeney burbles, “but Princess Trailer Trash is still totally bangin’.”

Eddie’s ears immediately tune right into their garbled conversation. 

“Pssh, dude, I don’t care what anyone says, she was frigid then and she’s frigid now. No way some overgrown virgin like Munson is splittin’ those knees open.”

“Still… bet she misses the finer things in life, y’know?”

“Tchyuh, like you, y’mean?”

“Nah, rich bitches like that get a wettie over the dumbest shit. Hey, how many glasses of Cristal does it take for Lacy Doevski to spread her legs?”

“I’unno, man, how many?”

“Well, if the first one has her face down in the pillow, how’s she gonna be able to tell?”

Bile scorches the back of Eddie’s throat. He doesn’t even mean for it, he actually means for a lot worse, but his hand goes right out and grabs the scruff of Sweeney’s shirt. The despicable little dirtbag. He yelps, a sound pleasing to Eddie but not quite pained enough for what this motherfucker deserves. 

“What the fuck, freak?!” 

Breath forces itself hard through Eddie’s nostrils. That they think they even have the right to talk about you like that makes him want to leave an Andy Sweeney-shaped hole in the Harringtons’ marble countertop, with some blood and teeth and viscera to match. 

“Interesting observation, Andy. It’s incredible to witness how the minds of the shrivel-dicked work,” Eddie seethes, “I personally like to enact my violence face up. Seen Billy Hargrove lately?”

Sometimes, Eddie forgets that he’s actually scary looking. The hair shrouding his face, the big hulking rings, the unsuspecting strength he’s gained from hauling around kegs and amps and the weight of the world… Sometimes, it takes a stiffened flash and a sudden flash of fear in someone like Andy Sweeney’s irises for him to remember. 

Sweeney stammers something between a no, please! and get off me!, fighting his own piss-pantsery in order to keep up appearances for his bros. 

Eddie grabs the Miller High Life from his hand and shoves him back toward his friends. 

“Champagne of beers. You understand.”

Sweeney spits, like physically spits at him. “Fucking loser!”

“Says the guy threatening to roofie a chick!” Eddie barks. “God, I know that your line of work doesn’t exactly require neurons but I’m begging you to rub your remaining ones together and see if it sparks some self awareness, Sweeney– go on, try!” 

—

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here.”

“Praying I don’t get a UTI, like everybody else in line.”

“You know what I mean, bitch.”

A category five sigh rolls your shoulders forward, hunching them further down the wallpaper you lean against. Carol has stepped fully out of the line, looking viperous but keeping her distance. Like you might have the good sense to strike back this time. 

“Oh my god, Caroline, it’s a kegger. I don’t think you need to RSVP.”

“There’s a strict no freaks policy,” Carol The Bouncer says.

A one noted bark-laugh comes from the fifth position in the line. “Yeah, I think we’re getting a little lenient with that one these days.”

From the mouth of Robin Buckley, who stands there like she did at the last party, against her will but as living proof that even the worst people you knew might not be as bad as you thought. 

I know Steve. He’s not exactly made for this crowd either.

“Stay out of this, Lesbo Baggins!”

“Hey!” You force your stiletto off the wall and lose your place in line, since Carol’s begging for it. Fuck that. No more shrapnel. “Leave her alone. This is between us, isn’t it? You and me?”

“And the rest of this town,” Carol’s upper lip curls. 

“Refresh my memory,” you say, and the choking vice of Carol’s overly familiar body spray is threatening your jugular. You used to come home from her place reeking of the stuff; the kind of smell that transfers, and carried with it characteristics that you were once proud to have rub off on you. The misery, the misanthropy for everyone but your pocketful of someones. And you and Carol didn’t even like them, most of the time. United in smarting bitterness, the way that girls who want more but can’t seem to get it always are. “What’s the problem, Care?”

“The problem,” Carol snarls, “is you, Lacy. Think just because your daddy’s out of prison that everyone forgot what he did? What you did? I’m watching you, trailer trash.”

You’re close enough that you can see the clumps in her mascara. Why hadn’t she separated them with a needle like you taught her to? The Audrey Hepburn method. It had always freaked her out, you sitting there with a pin that close to her retina, but she’d never looked better. 

Doomed to fail, without you by her side.

Spine straightening, you draw yourself over her. In your heels, borrowed from Ivana and gilded with her hardiness, you make Carol look small. 

“Yeah?” your voice drops to gravel. “You like what you see?”

—

Brainless Hawkinsite pieces of shit can’t so much as muster a response before they lurch for Eddie. Who the fuck knows what cursed or blessed him with rhythm, but he dodges around the bustling kitchen island with relative ease, before he nearly knocks Steve Harrington himself straight through his own plate glass patio door.

“No runnin’ indoors!” Steve slurs in his face, so close that a fleck of saliva goes straight up Eddie’s nostril. Gross. He’s found a home in the welcome bosom of the jello shot, that’s for fucking sure. 

“They started it!” 

“I don’t give a fuck! Finish it!” 

Gruffly, he casts an eye around the kitchen for those rogue ballsacks– they’d scarpered, probably spooked by the bellow of King Steve. Whatever. 

“My attackers seem to have dematerialized, you’ll be delighted to know!” 

“Why do you do that? Why do you talk like such a fucking weirdo, man?” Steve asks exasperatedly, clutching onto Eddie’s shoulder a little too roughly for his liking. Not that he’s keen on Harrington pawing him at all. “Like what d–... ughh, forget it! List-en! Where’s your weirdo girlfriend?”

“Ronnie’s not–”

“Who the fuck is–” Steve’s whole pretty boy face screws up and he lets out a genuine groan of anguish. “No, asshole, where is Lacy at?” 

“How should I know?!”

“Because your nose is permanently wedged up her ass!” Steve yells, but something draws him back. “Or it should be!”

Incredibly puzzling wording. Eddie shakes his head, wide eyes bewildered at exactly what the fuck Steve wants from him. With a scoff, the man of the house walks into the body-to-body wedge of his hallway and runs, from what Eddie can see, right into…

Your little college boyfriend.

Now… what the sweet and levelling fuck…

Eddie Munson’s activating Shadow Arts, he guesses, because he dips as close to the two of them as he can get without being accused of tailing Harrington this time. 

“...hey man, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Haha. Good to see you too, Stevie. Quite the turnout–you the big man on campus now or what?”

“I don’t know, it’s a party. I’m personally having kind of an evolution moment of my own. So. Fuckin’. Whatever.”

“... right.”

“How’s… fuckin’... whatever needledick school it is you go to?”

“Tch, man. I made it about a heartbeat and a hangover through the first semester before I dropped out. Came home around Christmas, much to the disgrace of my parents… But I’m havin’ an alright time, if you catch my drift.”

“Huh?” 

“Y’know. High school girls. You can tell them anything, am I right?”

Shit.

Know what, though? Eddie, as he sees it, would be well within his rights to yuk it up at this pernicious turn of events. He’s had a bet running (with himself) that this eyesore in beige you call a college beau, with his ugly fuckin’ car and his stupid collared shirts and his Waiting for Godot or whoever, wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. And not just ‘cause of jealousy, no! Not entirely. Well, okay. But, riddle him this– instead of snorting it up good, thrilled to be able to rub your nose in it, that rotten coil of anger started shifting in his belly again. Why do you think that is?

It’s simple. Eddie knows it’s simple. Because Mister Faux Ivy League has wasted so much of your time. 

Time that should have been yours and Eddie’s.

He’s gotta tell y–

“Hey, man. How’s it going.” 

“Agh!” Eddie yelps, as running right the fuck into people is apparently the flavor de nuit. Ronnie stands, stockstill and deadpan, behind him. Flanked by Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove. 

Eddie makes an exasperated noise of confusion, not even dignifying this apparition with a question. 

“They wanna play beer pong,” Ronnie monotones. With a glance down, Eddie can see that her front overalls pocket is filled with empty beer bottles. Apprehension swipes at him. See, his good friend Ronnie? She’s a competitive drunk. She, drunk off Jeff’s dad’s scotch, once trash talked Keith from Palace Arcade to such an eviscerating degree that she got a lifetime ban and he left to work at Family Video. Over a game of fuckin’ Tron. 

“We wanna play beer pong,” Hagan echoes. 

Hargrove sucks on a cigarette, having finally regained the ability to open his eye. Tragic. “Pong.”

“Why?!” Eddie asks, but more like begs. 

“Because they insinuated that I would lose.” 

“And we’d like to give the future valedictorian a chance to prove us right,” Hargrove drawls, looking as if he’s trying not to admit to himself that he has to look up to address Ronnie. She’s got a head and a half on him, at least. So many complexes in such a roidy, mulleted package. 

Eddie sees that his cheque is signed.

“... Fine. Your funeral.”

—

“All I see is some ex-relevant ex-cheerleader in somebody else’s moth eaten clothes.”

“This is Italian silk, you JC Penney clone-ette.”

“Oh, Italian like a meatball sub or Italian like the mob your dad is part of?”

That sets your teeth on edge. God, Ray Doevski wishes– at least there’d be some valor to it then, capos and all. The reality feels far less shrouded in intrigue. Grimier, somehow.

“Carol, you had the jump on me last time,” you grit, “but I’m stone cold tonight. Either see yourself down the stairs or I will.”

“Are you threatening me, freak fucker?”

“You’d love that, bottom feeder.”

“Lacy! Stop right there, y–” 

Earrings clinking as you snap your head around, you watch as a thoroughly ossified Steve Harrington almost brains himself on the top step. Neither you nor Carol nor anyone else reach out to help him, caught red handed in the prelude to a catfight. 

“Finally, Jesus!” Carol whinges, “Steve, she’s totally trespassing!”

Panic spikes across your shoulders, quills on a porcupine–are you actually about to get escorted off the premises? That’d be embarrassing, being double-shunned at an open-door Harrington kegger. Eddie hadn’t even managed that dire of a social faux pas and here you are, about to do it for the second time. 

“Ow! Shut up, Carol!” Steve decides to steady himself by closing the span of his big hand around your elbow; you both stagger under his wheedling. He’s got a bottle of vodka, cracked, wedged in his other palm. “You and I need to have a little chat.”

And before you can make any attempt to yank yourself away, make a run for it in these stilettos you certainly cannot confidently lift knees it, Steve is pulling you in the direction of his bedroom. A choir of middle school-aged angels that all look like you are singing somewhere as Carol and every other girl in that bathroom line save for Robin enviously glare after you, but you can’t hear it due to being plunged into one of the deeper circles of hell. 

“Steven, listen–” You’re not even entirely sure where the full-Christian-name-address comes from, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind when you yank your arm free. “I wasn’t trying to start anything. Not really. I was just…”

Click. Steve locks his bedroom door and turns, staring you down. Well, the best that a drunk teenager with drifting irises could stare one down. You wonder how many Lacys he sees right now. You should ask him to count them, finger on his nose. 

“You and I need to have a little chat.”

“You said that already,” but you can’t tell drunk people nothin’.

A remorseful edge around his attempt at a come-hither stare is making you feel a little icky, dawdling on the burning balls of your feet. He looks really bad, actually. The picture of someone trying to sift horniness out of grief or whatever. Steve thrusts one hand through his already scuzzed-up hair, the other jerking the bottle of liquor towards you. 

“Have a drink, Lacy, Jesus. Relax, for once.” 

You accept the bottle from him. Mostly because it looks as if he’s going to crack you over the head with it if you don’t. The vodka sears going down, same as last time, but there’s not the same urgency to meet everyone else on a level of functioning normal, party girl cool. If anything, the urgency lies in taking the edge off being here. 

Particularly in Steve Harrington’s bedroom. 

Once upon a time, you’d have mown down half this town in your sporty little Porsche to be sitting right where you’re sitting. But now, under the weight of your own self and Steve’s breakup with Nancy, you’d rather be anywhere else. Anywhere. 

“Sit down,” he tells you.

Your eyebrows draw in on instinct, very who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 

Steve scoffs, like he forgot to put on his concerned pantomime. He makes a pretty good go of it, slurring. “Please, Lacy.”

Your knees acquiesce, sinking yourself down onto his checkered bedsheets. The combination of that and the checkered wallpaper is creating an incredible cresting wave of claustrophobia. 

“Listen, if this is about Nancy, if this is some harebrained attempt to marionette me into getting her back, I–”

“This is about you ‘n’ me, actually.” 

Nope. Opposite day. Fucking Twilight Zone.

“No, it’s not,” you outright refuse. The mattress sags as Steve takes a seat beside you. 

“Well, why can’t it be?” Steve’s eyes trail a sticky line up your bare arm as he lies back and props himself up, low on his elbows. However, it’s not eliciting the same amount of alarm that it would if someone like, say, Billy Hargrove were doing it. He’s pathetic, and not in a way you find enticing. “You ‘n’ me, it makes sense. Doesn’t it? Don’t you want it to?”

“No!” You balk with a little more fervor than a then-wounded looking Steve deserves.

“Why not?!” No one says no to the king, of course, especially when he’s this soused.

“Because…” You shake your head, legs crossing on Steve’s bed. A different draft of you, the idea of a girl you had long since scrapped screams at you from somewhere in the very back of your head. You’re ruining it, Lacy–everything we’ve worked for! “You don’t want me. You just feel sorry for yourself. And I’m…”

But luckily, he doesn’t catch the trail-off.

“I’m about to make you feel sorry for yourself,” Steve railroads you.

“How’s that?” Another slug of vodka…

“Well,” he struggles to keep himself propped up, “my girlfriend Eddie and your boyfriend Nancy? Recreationally copulating. How d’ya like that.”

… comes right out your nose.

author's notes: so i once again scrapped the idea of a mega chapter because i wanted to give you guys something in case i have to disappear because i start my new job tomorrow! sweating and pissing and crying. but being able to afford to move out soon will be good. anyway, i love writing a good party scene so expect this to leak right into chapter 12 too. onto the fun stuff: - naming carol's mother ann perkins is a not-so-subtle nod to parks and recreation but the characterization couldn't be further off lol - attention all american teen princesses, i found drop dead gorgeous in full on youtube - the debate team captain in question, kate something-or-other, is in fact the very same kate that appears in rebel robin as robin's now-ex best friend - doctor, she's self-referencing again, this time about the time ivana threw an olive at norman mailer - i had to look up the origin of the term 'boinked', and it turns out it comes from cheers! congrats sam and diane - boners forged fire to table straight from mount doom - fra-gee-lay. it must be italian - that's two for one LOTR references if you count lesbo baggins - i am once again pretending to understand things about dnd - i can't mention *jeff bridges voice* TRON! without watching clips of jeff bridges doing things. it's so cliche to cast him as my reefer rick but bitch the heart wants that's all for now, folks! thanks again for reading and pls do reblog and comment and send me asks and things to keep the spirit of this silly little story alive. we're amping up. love u hellcats x

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @scottlava

Scott Campbell has illustrated numerous children’s books, including SKULLS!, Sleepy the Goodnight Buddy, and Zombie In Love. He was author/illustrator of the much-loved HUG MACHINE. He enjoyed a long career in video games, where he art directed the critically acclaimed game Psychonauts and Brutal Legend for Double Fine Productions. Great Showdowns is his ongoing online series. Scott’s work has appeared in galleries and publications around the world. You can see more of his work at ScottC.com.

Check out our interview with Scott below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Great Showdowns?

I went to art school in San Francisco and have been painting, making comics, and designing video games ever since with Double Fine Productions. The Great Showdowns began at the first Crazy 4 Cult exhibition at Gallery 1988 in Los Angeles back in 2007, an exhibition of artwork inspired by the cult classics of cinema. The first 10 little paintings were intended to be snack-sized pieces for people to easily collect. They began with perhaps the most iconic of wild west showdowns from A Fistful of Dollars with Clint Eastwood. I pulled some of my favorite moments from films like Ghostbusters, Predator, Exorcist, and Planet of the Apes and placed them all in simple little dust-colored squares as if they were in the dirt streets of a wild west town. They began as good versus evil but grew to all kinds of showdowns between people and objects and often moments of great love between people. I started a tumblr for them a few years later, and I have been posting them ever since. We have published three Great Showdown books and have had 3 solo exhibitions along with worldwide scavenger hunts. There are over a thousand of them up on the site by now, and i do not plan on stopping any time soon.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I would like to gather Jim Henson, Walt Disney, and Richard Scarry together for dinner and chats. They have all created my favorite and most joyful worlds. I think we would have some of the most delightful chats.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I love collage, but every time I try it, I get frustrated and just quit. Someday I will get into it when my kids are old enough to really mess around with various mediums. I plan to have boxes of textiles and magazines for them to just annihilate.

What does your work set up look like?

Oh, it’s just a table with an old mug for water and an old plate for my watercolors and not much else. I share a studio with a bunch of very inspiring people who make wonderful things, from fabricated creatures to VR experiences and films. I have probably the simplest little area in the space. I do have an old oak flat file that I love to look at.

Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?

The biggest thing I would push upon everyone would be to not fret about one’s visual style. The style will grow and present itself as you experiment with mediums and expose yourself to various cultural delights. Just have fun and try all kinds of things.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I gave a game design presentation many years back on a game I had art directed at the time called Brutal Legend at a game conference in Leeds. The game followed a roadie to the age of metal in the land of metal, with demons and chrome volcanoes and hot rods growing from the ground, and rivers of happy and cheering fans. After the talk, I spoke with someone whose work I had seen in earlier portfolio reviews at the conference. She was very shy but incredibly talented. She came up to me after the talk feeling pretty emotional and inspired to the point of tears and sobbing. It was probably the most extreme reaction I have ever gotten from someone, and it touched me deep down in my guts. That’s why we make things! To bring on the tears!

From video games, to illustrations, and children's books, you've worked on many projects. What was the most challenging, yet rewarding one?

Video games take an enormous amount of work over a long period of time and rely on the skills and talent of many like-minded people. It is sometimes difficult to corral such an effort, but it is incredibly rewarding to see it all come together to create such epic worlds. That said, though, children’s books are very enjoyable in a cozy way. It’s just me right there working on a world and all the pressure is on me. I cannot rely on all the talented people around me to make it look great.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I love perusing old fashion and film blogs and artists like Bob Jinx and Neil Sanders and collections like Its Colossal.

Thanks for stopping by, Scott! Be sure to check out the Great Showdowns over at @scottlava!

[adalricus]

Infatuated with you

Cw: yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking, gn reader , reader is an amateur model, mafia themes

Pt.2

You had just gotten into the modeling industry, it was hard and full of disappointed trying to get it big. But today was the you would make it big, you walked into your agencies build with such confidence ready for the day. "We're dropping you"..."what?" You answered your manager "You just don't fit the image of our image, and we need to make some cuts on our money and how we use it. Us using our money on you seems extremely futile." Your manager coldly replied. And just like that you sat at home wondering where you went wrong, no you couldn't give up just now you decided to take a chance and search modeling agencies on google, Facebook and Instagram. Hours later you were just about to give up when an agency caught your eye, they were looking for someone who had features just like you. Just your luck, you wouldn't waste your time so you contacted the agency to set up an interview, and send in your resume aswell as portfolio. Finally the day of your interview came, you had driven to the agency and stepped out your car headed for the front just to meet a man who had a very calm yet happy aura. "Hello there I'm Anthony I'll be escorting you to the interview room, and you (f/n) (l/n)?" You nod and with that Anthony grabbed your wrist and you both head to the interview room, "The interviewer will be here in a few moments is there anything you need?" "Uhm.. a cold water please. I'm sorry for asking but I'm just curious who are you exactly?" You replied and asked, "My name is Anthony Davidson, I'm the boss's personal assistant. I usually make sure things go smoothly when he's not around as he is away for business purposes. I'll make sure to get you that water in a moment." With that Anthony left, you sat and admired the rooms interior you noticed turquoise and grey colours with pops of gold. Something deep down in you told you something felt wrong yet you decided to ignore said feeling.Just then the interviewer came in "Sorry for the wait (Mr/Mrs/or what ever you're comfortable with) (f/n) (l/n).

My name is Lucille Roberts wonderful to meet you." She said shaking your hand before sitting down. "So I've read your resume and seen your portfolio and my, might I say I personally think you would be right for this agency." You smiled before thanking her. Lucille continued to ask question as time quickly passed "Well I believe you belong in this company so much infact I'm deciding to hire you on the spot." Lucille announced abruptly and taking a contract with a pen before handing it to you. You read the contract carefully and my, the pay and hours were impeccable almost to good to be true. You were about to sign it before you read "(f/n)(l/n) will work under such conditions provided that they install cameras in their house" How could you accept a job provided you do that! "A-actually on second thought, maybe I won't take the job.." The second you uttered those word Lucille almost snapped "I think it would be in your best interest to work as one of our models especially since we know where you and your family lives. Have nude photos of you on top of that we threatened every other job that would consider hiring you." "What! I'm gonna tell the police how did you get that information!" You demanded to know "The police won't do anything we have all the police stations in this area under our thumbs.. and who want to help someone who got involved with the syndicate?" ... "The syndicate as in the... mafia?" You began to trembled "Mmm-hmm sweetie! You catch on fast, we're willing to let you live a free life mostly, only under our set conditions. So my love don't be a bitch and sign the contract." Lucille demanded before pointing a gun to your head, you obeyed not wanting to get shot and signed. "Good (boy/girl/or whatever you're comfortable with). Now bye bye you start Monday, and if you don't start then say bye to your family." Lucille stated, you could barely stand up and you had to drag your feet out the doors. You got into your care and went home. When you finally sat in your room, you saw a message telling the installation guy would be there tomorrow afternoon at 13:00. You couldn't believe this was gonna be your life now. All you can do is endure it.

adalricus 2023 ©️ you may not steal, translate or post this anywhere but this platform.

[carrrrino]

HELLO I am very excited for this project! I wanted to express a concern though…it’s rather hard to find the any info on the project aside from what’s on the blog (which isn’t…very much information wise) I’m not sure if that’s an intentional decision…

I know when I first found the info I….kind of didn’t believe this?? That sounds odd. I suppose what I mean is, it didn’t seem the most legit. I did digging through the blog, read all the links, searched for a Twitter and YouTube accounts and had a hard time doing that as well…Simply because there is very little information on it. Which there’s nothing wrong with…I was wanting to suggest (as an outsider) that you and your team put more announcements/ marketing into this…?

I REALLY hope to see this project grow, it’s absolutely deserved, and very few people seem to know about it. I’d hate that to be something people miss out on. I don’t really expect an answer on this but I thought I should share the concern as an outside perspective. 💛

I really hope this project is going well for you and that it gets the deserved recognition as it’s coming out!!! So excited!!!

I'm so happy that people share the same excitement and concern for the series. Also, the fact that you guys think it's worthy of success Is truly inspiring! I think it's time I SAY something though about my current situation.

TL;DR - Our team basically went inactive after the summer; everyone returned to their lives and I'm the only one who can keep up with the project unconditionally. I didn't mean to dishearten you guys! It's a pain in the ass to work alone - excluding voice actors and SFX producers. The OUTBREAK blog will change entirely, it will be used for info and marketing. This blog will just be general art created by me (&no-namestuff). I will continue to work on the series independently, but I'll definitely give out more info as requested and make things more legit whenever I can!

Over the summer, a group of us began working on the project together, but as most of my friends returned to school and their regular lives, it became almost impossible to keep going. Currently, only a few are available to help, but they're too busy.

I didn't want to worry anyone by saying that it's basically just me working on the project; it's tough to balance animating, scripting, marketing, planning, publishing, AND funding by myself. Over time it (advertising and insightful communication) just became indifferent to me, I even considered going silent for a while until I had a mother-load of progress, but that's really not fair.

The project was a bit of a mess when we started. We didn't plan on making it a big deal, my animations were half-assed and incomprehensible; I barely knew how to work Adobe and could barely even pay it off, the sound was going to be recorded via iPhone, the script wasn't even halfway done, and voice actors weren't thought of until the Prologue. After more than six months of work, Verse 1-4 (or 6?) was deleted because of issues with the file.. this really drew the line for everyone.

So here I am, despite everything; I revised the script, which is barely halfway done, redesigned the characters, read more into the multiversal conundrums of AUs and UNDERTALE, built a portfolio, studied poses for the action scenes — and there’s still a lot that I have to learn. I'm working on Q&As, asks, and the teaser / test / project animations. I don't want people to be confused or hesitant, so I appreciate you a lot for reminding me of this. As requested, I will provide additional details about the project too :) !

No-Name's theme is in progress (thanks to Synth Mints), I've invested heavily in software for good quality animations, talented voice actors from this fandom (some you might even know) have agreed to voice for me - I'm extremely grateful for their help. Even if it takes years to release an episode or pilot, I'm still excited about the outcome. Who knows, I might even have a genuine team by then! :D

aw geez sorry for the whole bit-life story, I'm just trying to shed some light on the situation for you all. I do care, I want everyone to know that, it's just hard work.

Until the next teaser animation, please have these lil' pieces of teasers / lore as an apology!

SD by @/galacii ERROR by @/loverofpiggies / CrayonQueen

LASTLY today is my birthday yayyy 🥳🎂

[notnights]

Little ninja fans of present day and past, I began watching RC9GN in December of 2012, and it changed my life forever, now it's 2024 and I'm nearing 30, time sure flies! Anyways I've been working on cleaning out my computer files and found a bunch and I mean A BUNCH of Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja promotional material and side content. I pretty much have most things that came out from 2012 - 2015 pertaining to the show.

I imagine a lot of these things have been lost to time as some of it was originally posted was from the DisneyXD website, and variations of the DisneyXD website (meaning from other countries). I have interviews, bumpers, dubs of episodes, even footage of some of the old RC9GN games, and Randy cameos (I saved footage of someone playing the RC9GN Poptropica promo!)

I also have a clip from WSFA where they reported on the fan that wrote Rachel's song. I had thought it was posted to youtube but I can't find it again so maybe they removed it, it's not on the article that's still up either! Guess it's good I saved it. (The article isn't entirely accurate, I believe she said she got the internship because of her song)

I also have a few clips of other dubs, including an Italian dub of the song and music video "GO NINJA GO," that's pretty cool! I also found audio files of the raw music from the show! I can't even remember how I got that. (they are unfortunately not named)

I have some less quality stuff like literally me just recording promos and bumpers off of the TV screen lol. Some of these also include snips of other Disney XD bumpers and promos though.

Anyways, I don't want this stuff kept all to my self as I see a lot of it is lost to time, if not hard to find. And oh look at that looks like I have a handy little sideblog I never used that's perfect for this! @theninjanomicon (I'll pretty it up later), so over time I'll probably share some of it on there.

Younger me was unfortunately not very thorough in the archiving, so some titles, dates, names, and exactly where I got them from, are missing, but I can give a rough time frame and where I got these from that I can remember. (another reason why I'm doing it! to mark down what I can remember before I forget anymore of it)

I wouldn't be uploading any full episodes for obvious reasons but might upload clips of some of the alternate dubs I have. And yes I have the pilot, which I can't share either but I do have STORYBOARDS from the pilot (which up until this year was our only reference for this "kim possible style" it used to have) which maybe I can share as I got it from the storyboarder's portfolio which was public back when I got it.

I might add some commentaries under a readmore for certain posts to give extra contexts/what I remember being relevant to the piece I post.

Now the hard part is figuring out where to start! What would y'all like to see first?