#this is mostly just late-night ramblings

[emraev1212]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, @bludazey !!

This is a very rough draft for a oneshot I wrote a couple months ago. I was thinking about what Astarion’s pov might’ve looked like and this just came out of me.

(Makes a bit more sense after reading the first part, but probably not necessary.)

They all play by the campfire. Someone tells a joke and the others laugh. Some push and shove, petty fights devolving into chasing around the fire.

Astarion is no stranger to fools. He’d spent the better part of the last two hundred years luring them. And by the gods, they all act like fools, but none of them would’ve taken his bait.

All of them are stronger than they seem. Smarter.

And yet, they look to one before the rest. Their fearless leader.

Who is so very different from them. So different, it’s painful. How did she become leader? She pretends to be good and kind and the others eat up her whole charade. She plays as one of them, and once she’s done enough to cement her status, she falls back.

Different from the others indeed, but so painfully familiar.

But her performance is pitiful. She blunders through half of her interactions. Even now, she sits and simply watches the fire instead of maintaining her status. How does she do it?

How can she put so little effort in and still reap the rewards?

It’s unfair.

It’s unfair that she is who he must target. Because she has the others wrapped around her little finger and if he could attach himself to her, the others would be forced to keep him.

It’s unfair that his target has become his opponent. That she understands that this is a game and yet she’s so horrendous at it. She treats him as if any of this is real. She acknowledges the game, and yet she still plays it on the same terms.

It’s insulting. She thinks she can beat him without even trying.

It’s infuriating that he doesn’t even know what she wants from him. Why does she bother? He has nothing more to give than his daggers in battle. He’s used to using his body as a bargaining chip, but he’d rather not go there yet. He can hardly stand speaking to her, much less sleeping with her. They’re both fake, but at least when he flaunts it around, it’s funny, another lure.

She’s given so much: her sword, her “kind” words, her blood. All he can do now is wait for her to collect her favors and hope he can endure them. He must, after everything he’s done.

What’s the worst she could ask of him?

She stands now, moving and jumping and calming the wizard. Then she scurries away in Astarion’s direction.

So he fixes himself, unassuming, yet enticingly up to no good, ready for the next round of the game.

She stands before him, silent. Astarion takes the lead and throws out a witty line.

But she doesn’t respond as she should. Instead, she stumbles through the dance. How can someone be so arrogant? Does she not see him as someone worthy of tricking? Why bother with him at all, if that’s the case.

Though, it’s not exactly stumbling. She seems more like she’s in a daze, eyes staring far beyond him.

How peculiar.

So he invites her to sit, to properly begin the game. Yet she still won’t participate, only sitting and staring. Honestly, why is she even here if she isn’t going to play?

He prompts her once more, and then there she goes, acknowledging the game to his face. “I’m not in the mood for games tonight.” It’s mockery. It can’t be anything else. How can she say such things and pretend they hold no weight?

He keeps his annoyance firmly beneath his mask, and prompts more conversation. As long as she’s talking, she’s giving him information. If she talks long enough, maybe there will be something of use.

Finally, she gives him something to work with, saying, “Because I need to be alone.”

But what is he supposed to do with that? Is that supposed to be some kind of poorly-formed innuendo? What does she want from him? He’s known both wolves and sheep in his long unlife, but she doesn’t fit perfectly into either category.

She is watchful, like him. She knows exactly what to say and do to keep the others content. She has the senses to sniff out other predators in her midst. Yet she acts so pathetic, brazenly displaying all her vulnerabilities to the world. Especially when there is nothing for her to gain from it. It’s like she’s asking to be devoured. It would’ve been so easy to deliver her to Cazador.

But sheep don’t ask to be slaughtered.

So it all must be an act.

And the act is flawless, which is what pisses him off the most. He can’t get a solid grip on what exactly her true intentions may be. He senses nothing malicious, but nothing quite altruistic either. Like she has no intentions at all.

Infuriating, but he still plays his part. “And yet you’ve come to me,” he muses, an indirect attack.

Her elaboration reveals nothing. Why is this the narrative she’s chosen? Playing the poor, broken soul. How can she acknowledge his nature and still pretend she wants, what? His pity? It’s a hilariously ridiculous ploy. He must not be seeing the whole picture because what could she possibly gain from his pity?

They have a quick back and forth. Presence seems to return to her as she bickers with him. It’s an easy role for him to fall into, the sarcastic, comedic companion.

But then she says something baffling, as she always does. “I don’t mind that you’re looking for weaknesses. Something to use against me, should the need arise. It’s alright.”

On his last nerve, he decides to play her game, to dance around in the truth. “And isn’t that fascinating?”

She has the gall to play stupid. “What is?”

He’s had enough of this. He pushes in with a direct attack, answering, “That you would put yourself at a disadvantage for seemingly no good reason.”

She shrinks away, in what he can only assume is offense. But then she speaks, insisting on her ridiculous story. “Oh. It won’t matter in the end. I’ll likely give you whatever you’re angling for regardless of what cards you play. The flirting and scheming really is a waste of your time. It’s all rather unnecessary.”

The words scream defense, like his blow landed how he intended, but all he can read is that incessant hopeless act. He’s going to rip out his hair at this rate. How can she be like this?

“And you’d just give me whatever I want for nothing in return?” He practically screams.

Then she drops her face into her hands, crying. Her tears seem so eerily real… He can almost believe that she’s being genuine. But who could say the things she says and not be lying? Who could reveal themselves like that so foolishly? She just goes on and on about how weak and pathetic she is. But one line settles uncomfortably in him like a putrid rat.

“Please,” she sobs, begging, pleading, “please use me kindly.”

She says the words like she’s staring into the open maw of the wolf. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed on the altar. So utterly complacent in her own slaughter.

Like she’s already dead.

The realization is like ice sliding down his back. She hasn’t been playing at all. She’s been humoring him. Standing in the rain as the storm rolls in, ready to be swept away.

She’s so ready to be swallowed whole, yet now she begs the wolf for mercy, putting her fate in his jagged claws.

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime on a silver platter. She said it herself, she really is the perfect target.

He’s never had a choice before. He still doesn’t, not truly. He needs this group to survive. Despite all her willingness to give up, he needs her strength and status. And why should he be kind anyway? It’s not like he ever got a break because he asked nicely.

And to think he thought they were similar in any way. The idea gnaws at his stomach, like a beast clawing its way out of him. No. They are not the same.

He can’t bear to think about it, so he acts.

He reaches for her, unsure exactly how to give her what she wants. Comfort was never something he had experience with.

She follows his hands, crawling into his lap, burying herself into him. One hand trails up to play with her hair in a way he knew most conquests enjoyed afterwards. His other hand holds her close to him.

Her tears seem to calm at the movements, so he figured he was doing something right.

This is… bearable. The proximity is uncomfortable, but merely holding her is far from the worst thing he could be doing. Though his muscles tense, his insides threaten to tear apart, his chest tightens.

He will use her however he needs in return for this… intimacy. Yes. This is something he can do.

“Alright,” he finally answers. “I accept your terms.”

The way she trembles and cries in his arms reminds him of so many memories he dare not entertain.

He will do this. He will do this because he must. Once he’s done, once he’s free, he’ll leave her alone.

I might clean it up and post it. Probably won’t get around to it though 😅

Tags! @jellymellydraws @riskpig @vixstarria @inkymoonbunny

[hello-eeveev]

I imagine Essek had this moment of recognition with Astrid and Eadwulf while they were all in the Blooming Grove, similar to how Kima was like “sword lesbian recognize sword lesbian” with Yasha. They all looked at each other and went “neutral evil wizard with complicated feelings for Caleb and a weird relationship to their homeland recognize neutral evil wizard with complicated feelings for Caleb and a weird relationship to their homeland,” and they didn’t need to discuss it any further. Their relationship is not affectionate at all, but it is not hostile. It can’t even really be called professional. It’s just there, and it’s a relationship of few words, but enough understanding.

And Astrid. Astrid Beck, my most beloved. Her relationship with Caleb hurts, if she’s being honest. But so does her relationship with Eadwulf, even though it’s a different kind of hurt. She is just full of trauma and I don’t think there is anything in her life that isn’t filtered through it, so everything is just kinda painful.

But I imagine that after taking on the role of Archmage, Astrid feeds Essek just enough intel to steer clear of the Assembly's ire, but they don't talk at all beyond that. So like, they don't really know anything about each other, but they are still offering up a lot of trust. It creates this weird intimacy of knowing someone's greatest secrets (Astrid, about Essek) and having seen them at their lowest point (Essek, about Astrid) and sharing a weakness (both of them, for Caleb). But at the same time, there is a massive divide between them that, for a myriad of reasons, will never ever be bridged. They both know this, so they won't even try.

They do not have a relationship, but there is still so much to it, you feel me?

[misc-obeyme]

Guys. I think I’ve fallen back into my Mammon obsession. It was really bad right before I started writing for this blog. But it seems to have come back because I’m being plagued with fic ideas.

I also seem to be getting Satan obsessed… I don’t think I’ve had a full on Satan phase like I did with Mammon. But apparently it’s happening now? You guys already know about my Satan related smut fic ideas.

Anyway I’m annoyed because I have a bunch of real life stuff coming up ‘cause you know ‘tis the season & junk. But I wanna wait until after some of that so I can do these ideas justice.

Not me still thinking about maid outfit smut series too.

Also considering doing a small drabble request event for the holiday stuff. Is that something people would be interested in?

[ratcandy]

Anyway while rummaging through the ONE tags and a few critiques, I’ve noticed a lot of debate over what Stone’s whole deal was given the ending of the show and. Well I want to speculate a little

Going to be referring to Stone as he/they because the wiki is telling me it's he/him but they/them feels Better to me . I get to gender the Stone.

also this post will be Long. Forewarning you!!!

I don’t think Stone is evil, first of all. I saw at least one proposal that Stone was acting out of some form of malice,, and I reeeeaaallly doubt it; the character we see is frantic and anxious, without any hints toward some darker intentions or. Idk, conniving? Attitude? it just doesn’t make sense with what we are shown of Stone. Granted we aren’t shown much but u know

Unless you want to count Liam’s wonky ass hallucination thing with Stone going like “you think you understand, don’t you?” Or whatever — but I count that Even Less since that was. Again. Wonky Liam hallucination or somethin, not Stone’s actual character

Cool idea for an au though I’ll say that much!

now I ALSO don’t think Stone was totally in the right either, but it's one of those situations where he was going to be some form of Wrong no matter what he did.

In my interpretation of Stone’s abilities, they could see the past and all possible futures with the past/present in mind. From what I've seen in the tags, this is a popular headcanon, which is great because if I was alone in this interp I think I would explode

When put into the Plane, I think he saw two things: The ending we got and an alternative. Or perhaps multiple alternatives depending on smaller factors. And I think whatever alternative(s) he saw were either of equal suffering or worse, meaning he was put into a situation of picking between evils.

For example, say he sees a future where Liam doesn’t involve himself with trying to stop Airy and just tries to reintegrate into society after being eliminated. This leaves Airy to continue ONE, perhaps even running through a full, “smooth” competition with no more or few additions, meaning a winner is chosen and everyone else eventually gets to go home. But then this allows Airy to keep going into a season three, maybe four — and it becomes a trolley problem.

Leave these contestants stuck forever and stop it at season 2 as a means to minimize future suffering, or just allow it to run its course.

The issue lies in that. This really should not have been Stone’s decision to make. He's - intentionally or not - playing God with lives that he should not be allowed to Play God with. but at the same time, he likely was aware of his limited time and didn’t see a future where he could communicate everything to the contestants before his elimination (let alone let them debate on it). So it’s…. Yeah. Literally a trolley problem. Let the trolley hit 5 people or flip the lever so it only hits 1.

anyway My point is this. This gives Stone reasoning for his actions and makes his role in the show more understandable. He doesn't just send Liam on a wild goose chase ending in failure/hopelessness for no reason; he does it because in his eyes, the other options were worse.

Yeah, he led them all to a bad ending, but we don't know what he could have seen in the alternatives. Especially if Airy's season 3 was the same regardless, in which local lantern yoinks the got damn loved ones of this group into the next round of hellworld. Not only would there then be compounded suffering on the group we already have, but suffering for those characters, and I EMPHASIZE that one of the season 3 contestants was going to be Charlie's MOM. So like. Um....

And since this show LOVES to fuck around with human mentality and rationality, I think it makes sense to include the world’s most fucked up trolley problem in the middle, even if not made abundantly clear to us.

I also like the addition to this idea that Stone just wrote as much as possible on those sticky notes, regardless of if they would end up used or not, explaining why some (like the 5) still don't make sense afterwards. They wrote everything they thought could help lead into one or a few futures, and at that point, it was up to Liam/Bryce to go from there with what they were given.

AKA Stone doesn't see just one, unchangeable, solid future, and he can't predict exactly which one will come to fruition. He can only nudge the people around him in directions he thinks are most favorable.

And for all we know, the smallest thing could have fucked up his entire plan and led us to the ending we got to. Amelia not giving him the sticky notes (why would he go for them if he thought she'd never give them to him in any possible future?) could have been what forced him to hide the sticky notes in Liam, and when that leads to his elimination, he just panics in that last minute to write out the last helpful thing he can -- The votes are fake.

now why he decided to write each letter on an individual sticky note is beyond me but idk maybe there's a butterfly effect SOMEWHERE in that nonsense shdgKJDSHG

anyway. yea. That's all. I am thinking about Stone

[elshells]

Me, writing in silence: Not! Enough! Stimulation!

Me, writing with music or a movie in the background: *gets distracted and doesn't write*

[key-lime-soda]

i mentioned this briefly but I kinda have a job now. I'm not doing much or getting paid (cuz the whole department has no money yet rip) but technically this is supposed to be a paid position so I'm just gonna call it my job

whats the job? being a TA

[rosielav]

Bellefast has been coming to me in my dreams recently, in a similar way to how Monteith and Jibblie do

I find myself at The Circus, but in a sleeping quarter of some kind. And I can hear the festivities going on outside, in the big top. I'm apparently just passing through, but know everyone well enough that they let me stay on the property.

The only person I don't know is Bellefast, which is strange since he's the Ringleader, you tihnk I'd know him quite well, if I know all the clowns and performers and stagehands.

And he doesn't know me. So when he stumbles into the sleeping quarters, whiskey and candy floss on his breath, and falls into the bed, he's caught by surprise. As am I.

It feels like maybe a creative exercise? Maybe my brain wants to flesh this character out more, so it's putting him into my almost asleep brain so that I have to learn more about him.

So far I've learned he has a drinking problem.

[kittykatinabag]

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

I am allowed to be upset without having to qualify it.

[noxtivagus]

good day guess who is girlbossing once more 🤍

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

I think one of my personal main problems with YA shows that aren't primarily black casts is that they always throw the one black character (because there's usually only one main and maybe one supporting character active or alive at the same time) with

1. A character of a different race that treats them badly/will cheat on them (Bonnie from TVD ~ even though she and Jeremy were cute for a while)(Toni and Cheryl from Riverdale)(Kat with Jamie from Instant Star)(Also, Kwest with Sadie from Instant Star)

2. With the only other black character on the show (obviously where they're going with Bianca and the mayor's son in Wednesday)(Bonnie with that warlock's son in TVD)(The brother in South of Nowhere)(Majority of the black characters from Degrassi)

3. A good character that's leaving/gonna die soon (Bonnie with Enzo in TVD)(Honestly most of Bonnie's love interests)

4. Unrequited love or just single (I can't remember Skillz from OTH having a love interest)(Pete with Chloe from Smallville)(Lisa in Saved By The Bell)

Or 5. They don't have main black characters to begin with (like Gossip Girl or majority of the seasons of Teen Wolf or the really old popular shows like OTH (I mentioned Skills but he's in and out), 7th Heaven, majority of Boy Meets World (where I'd put Shawn and Angela under 1 because, although I love them, he was shitty to her), etc.

Or maybe those are just the ones I watched, 😂

[starborn-souls]

Updated my queue to post four times a day! Feeling a little more muse for my guys so I’ll try and do more character related posts during the day, we’ll see how this goes. 

As always, I’m lurking and semi-active, but still have idiots living in my head rent free

[velvetrambles]

Slight life update! No longer sick! Or as sick at least. But in the time that I was sick, Batman has returned to my brain - so I may or may not have finished an old fic that has been sitting in my documents for over a year now (turns out ending things is hard but at least it’s done)

Soo, will probably upload that to the dusty AO3 account soon, once I have time to sit down and check for any typos

[lovebugism]

ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck. 

That’s where he lingers. 

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there. 

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed. 

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now. 

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy. 

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Next caller.

《 Pairings: College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader

《 Summary: Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.

《 Warnings: Smut, 90s!Eddie, he's around 24 here. Phone sex, dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation (female), sex toys. Eddie refers to the reader as sweetheart, good girl, and Miss caller. I didn't want to use y/n, so he's given you some pet names instead.

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Please reblog, comment, and like to show support. Not proofread. Please ignore mistakes.

Mini series masterlist

18+ no minors

Year 1990

Eddie was in his final semester of college with a very popular radio show. He became pretty much well-known on campus overnight. His radio show is known as "The Munson Experience," and it slowly became an overnight hit.

Fans of DnD tuned in for his hour of lore telling and tips on how to build up your fantasy world. Metal heads tuned in for his controversial opinions on bands. Others listened specifically for his special segments in regard to the topic of sex. Boyfriends called for advice on dating and different ways to get their girls off. Girlfriends called him to give thank you's and ask what they could do to repay the favor. He would have callers tell him their most outrageous stories.

Eddies show became popular very fast after he introduced his sex segment. He even became some what of celebrity at your college. He never used a different name or tried to use any type of anonymity. He didn't care if people knew him for his show or even liked him for it.

He was unapologetically himself at all times. You seen him around campus walking from one lecture to the next. Eddie would always wear an old band tee with the sleeves cut off, turning into a muscle tank. He liked showing off his tattoos. One arm fully covered in dark ink all the way down to the top of his hand. The other arm had a few tattoos scattered here and there. His hair was almost past his shoulders, and he had a small nose ring in his left nostril.

You'd always watch from afar as people would approach him to make small talk. The guys rushed over to invite him to their house parties and girls, giving out their personal phone numbers. It was no secret that Eddie knew how to please women. You heard the stories, and judging by his advice on his show, you believed them. He would even share his own personal hook up stories sometimes during the segment.

You and Eddie only ever had one class last semester together, but he never even made a single glance your way. You never approached him either, opting to just admire from distance and make your way to class. Every evening, you did, however, turn on the radio to listen to his show. Truthfully, you only listened to hear his voice. You had no idea what he was rambling on about most of the time, but you didn't care. His barritone voice was like warm honey to your ears. You found comfort in listening to him every night before bed. It was strange how the moment his show started, your stress of the day just melted away.

One day, you were going to call him for help about something you had never told anymore before. You already felt like you could trust him with this sort of thing. You were determined to speak to him even if you had to confess never having had an orgasm before. You don't know why you're putting so much trust into him, but you have.

You were desperate for his help and attention if you're going to be honest. You would lay in bed daydreaming about being in those other girls' shoes when he described what he did to them. How he would feel between your legs. Having his weight on top of you as you came undone beneath him.

Maybe you'll call in to his show tomorrow? What harm could it do? No one would even know it was you on the other line. You didn't have many friends on campus, so it's not like anyone would make the distinction so quickly. This would all be completely anonymous.

You just needed to speak with him. You never could work up the courage to talk to him in real life. You've always been too shy and easily intimidated. Eddie was a nice guy from what you could tell. There was nothing to be intimidated by at all. You would always get butterflies in your stomach when you saw him around. He made your stomach do flips when he flashed a smile, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. You could never work up the courage to ever approach him, so you just settle for your fantasies instead.

A few weeks went by, and you still haven't called. Not that you didn't try. You would call and hang up when you heard what you assumed was an assistant answer the phone. The moment you heard, "Thank you for calling in to the munson." You slammed the phone on the receiver. Not even letting the poor guy finish his sentence. This situation was driving you crazy you were convinced he could and would help with your problem. You assured yourself he was the only one who could because you didn't want anyone else to.

You mope around your shared home with your roommate, Monica. She could tell something was bothering you but never pressed on the issue. You two weren't the closest, but there was a mutual respect and love for one another. She'd try to get you to go out to parties with her but knew not to pressure you. The moment she heard a no, she left it at that, shrugging her shoulders and leaving you be.

"I can tell something is bugging you." she asked for the millionth time that week.

You sigh. "Im fine, I swear -- just little stressed." You put on a fake smile heading back to your room, leaving her to continue getting ready her date. Hoping she won't ask you again, you locked yourself away for the night. There was a light knock at your door, and you heard your roommates muffled voice from the other side. "I'll be back late. Get some sleep, okay?"

You ignore her as she leaves for the evening. Flopping yourself back against your pillows, you turned to look at your phone. Then, glance at your clock, it read 10:45 pm. It's almost time for his last segment of the night. Should you call? Would tonight be the night? You rolled over on your side, staring between the clock and your phone.

You sat up quickly, snatching the phone and dialing the numbers. Your heart already pumping with adrenaline when you hear the dial tone. A lump in your throat builds from nerves and excitement. Tonight was the night, and you were not going to chicken out this time. You hear the distinct voice on the other end of the call. "Thank you for calling into the munson experience. What are you calling in for."

You struggle to find your voice for a moment. The man on the other end is waiting for you to respond, and he almost hangs up, thinking it's another crank call. "I'm calling to speak to Eddie." You're voice barely even a whisper that you needed to repeat yourself three times. Eventually, they put you on hold while they got ready for his final segment. You exhale a deep breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

The sound of the music they put you on hold to cut off and your stomach drops. This was it you were finally going to do it. Not only were you going to speak to him, but you were also about to confess something that always made you feel embarrassed. You know it's nothing to be ashamed about truly. Judging by the countless women who called in with a similar problem looking for advice.

The music playing on the radio fades, and you hear him greet you."Hi, thank you for calling in. How can I be of assistance?"

You struggled to find your voice yet again.

"Hello? C'mon, don't be shy. This is a judgment free zone here." He leaned forward in his chair, getting closer to the microphone.

"Umm, hi, I was calling for something I think only you can help me with." You're clutching the phone in a tight grip against your ear. Your hands are shaking, and you hope no one can recognize you.

He leans back in his rolling chair. "And who am I speaking with."

"I....I'd rather not give you my name." You stammered. Your anxiety is building up, and you are so close to hanging up.

"That's okay. We'll keep this anonymous." He replied.

His brows raise for a moment as he listened to you talk. You sounded a little too familiar to him, and he has a sneaking suspension he might know who you are. He won't out you just in case he might be wrong and also respecting your wishes to remain anonymous.

You take a deep breath. "Well, you see, I've never...I don't know how to say this."

"You never what?" Have sex or something? " He asked, but his voice showed no emotions.

"No...I mean I'm not a virgin or anything like that. I just....I've had boyfriends, and anytime we did stuff, I never-- finished." You confessed to him.

His eyes widened for a moment, and he felt a pain of sadness in his heart. He could tell you were scared to reveal something so personal like that. Especially to him, a total stranger on a live radio show with hundreds of listeners. "You never had an orgasm before. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Pinching the bridge of your nose." Yes, that's what I'm telling you."

"Huh, okay, have you tried getting yourself off, at least?" He questioned, spinning around in his chair. His assistant, the other side of the room, listened Intently to the conversation.

"Well you see that's my problem anytime I tried to make myself cum I just kinda give up. I get so close and right when I'm there... I stop." You blurt out as you feel a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

He ponders for a moment before responding. "And how can I help you with this exactly? "

"Well, I was hoping you could guide me through it." Your face scrunching up as the words left your mouth. You knew this was a dumb idea from the start. He wasn't going to help you, and any moment now, you're waiting to hear him laugh at how ridiculous this is. There's a long, almost uncomfortable silence.

Eddie, on the other side of the line in his booth, is in utter disbelief. Sure, he definitely wants to guide you through that experience. What guy wouldn't? He just truly can not believe this was happening live on HIS show. His assistant kept mouthing no to him, knowing this could end badly. Eddie doesn't care he's doing it. He picks up his old bandana that's been discarded on the table and wipes sweat from his forehead. He nods back at the assistant, signaling hes going along with it whether people like it or not.

Picking up his yoyo, he props his feet up on the table in front of him. "You want me to help you cum?" Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's what I want. I need you to help me any way you can." You're sounding more desperate than intended.

"Okay, well, miss caller. I think im the perfect guy for the job." He smiles tossing the yoyo back and forth to the palm of his hand.

You smile as the anxiety you felt early slowly fades away.

"What are we using tonight, sweetheart? Fingers or toys?" He asked tossing his yoyo aside.

"Umm, I have a toy I can use." You closed your eyes tight, answering his question.

"Do you want me to talk dirty to you while we do this, sweetheart? " He got his voice lower in the mic, causing your breath to hitch.

'Uhh, yes... I'd like that a lot, actually." You bite your lower lip, anticipating what he's planning.

A grin plastered on his face while his mouth gets unbelievably closer to the mic. His voice felt so close to your ear. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "Are you laying back, sweetheart?"

"....uhh,yes, I'm laying in bed." Your voice shakey on the other end.

"Good girl, get nice and comfortable for me."

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together when you hear him calling you a "good girl." You turn off your bedside light and let the warm glow from your candles set the mood.

"What are you wearing?" He asked, licking his lips.

"A shirt and panties." You replied, looking down at yourself.

"Yeah? wanna take those panties off for me." He continued on making his voice low and deep. Similar to his DM voice, he would put on during his DnD segments. A shiver runs down your spine, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. There is a small wet patch already forming on the thin lace material of your panties.

You moved and carefully dragged the delicate lace down your legs, tossing them across your room. "They're off."

"That's a good girl." He praised.

You lay there patiently waiting for him to continue.

"Can you be my good girl and grab that little toy you told me about?" He asked you, feeling himself growing hard as well. He still can't believe he's doing this but doesn't want to stop. "Do you have it?"

Reaching over to your bedside table, you open the drawer, grabbing the small vibrator.

"I got it." You whisper into the phone.

He readjusts in his seat, "Turn it on for me."

You do as he says and turn the small vibrator onto the lowest setting. That ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach creeps back in. You want to do this, but the thought of hundreds of people listening to you right makes you second guess the decision.

"On second thought, maybe this was a bad idea." You admit trying to fight back tears as a lump in your throat forms.

"No, no hey its okay. What's wrong?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"I--i just remembered there are people listening." You stumble over your words as you try not to cry. Feeling a little ridiculous that you're even going through with this.

He frowns to himself. " Listen, it's just me, and you okay? If you don't want to do this, I understand you can always hang up."

"Yes, please." You spoke sofly.

"NO!--I want to do this." You blurt out. Once again, there is a long pause as he's thinking of the right things to say. Eddie doesn't want to make you feel pressured. He wants this to be an enjoyable moment. "Shall we continue?"

"That's my good girl." He cooed.

You whimper lowly into the phone, but it doesn't go unnoticeable. He already knows how to get you riled up, and he hasn't even gotten started yet. "You like that, don't you?"

"You like it when I call you a good girl?" He teased.

You gulped into the phone." Yeah."

His assistant in the next room is chewing on his nails out of pure terror. He's never seen this happen before on a live radio show, and he just knows what a shit storm it could cause. Eddie doesn't seem to mind at all his focus and attention were strictly on you.

"I want you grab that toy and put it to your clit. Can you do that for me?" He gets his voice low again. Your nipples harden under the thin material of your shirt. You bring the vibrator to your sensitive bud and gasp when you feel the vibrations.

"Okay, sweetheart, now think of me between those thighs. Think of my lips wrapped around your clit sucking so so softly. Imagine my face buried between your legs.." He's breathing heavier into the mic. His cock getting painfully hard in his jeans "Are you thinking about it?"

"Mmm, y--yes I'm...I'm imagining you there." You gasp and moan in the phone.

"I know you must be soaked right now. I wish I was there with you, spreading you open with my tongue. I bet you taste so fucking good" He kept going his voice getting more seductive in your ear.

"Is this your first time thinking of me like this?"

A sly grin creeps up on his face as he probably already knows the answer.

"I bet you have. I'm sure you've seen me around our campus. You've probably wondered what it would be like having my thick cock deep inside you. I would make you cum so fucking hard." He's getting really into it now, and his heart races with excitement.

You sink further into your bed as the vibrator continues working on your clit. Your hips bucking up as you writhe on your blanks, taking in every word he spoke. The phone keeps falling from your ear the more relaxed you become. Your mind in a fog while you listen to him say the dirtiest things. No one has ever spoken to you like this before, not even your ex-boyfriends. "Hey, you there?"

You gasp, "Yes, I'm here."

"Great. I need you to try and keep the phone to your ear as best you can for this part. Now with your other hand, use your fingers to fuck yourself but keep that vibrator where it is, got it?" He sounded much more serious this time.

You kept the vibrator right where it was at while you gently brought two fingers to your entrance. You slide them between your wet folds, getting them covered in your juices. You bite your lower lip hard as you teased around your dripping pussy. You hear him groan in the other end of the phone and wonder if he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You gently dip your two fingers inside you, getting them as deep as they possibly could go. "Ooh! Fuck." You moaned in his ear.

"Yeah, that's it pretend your fingers are my cock sweetheart." His let out a shakey breath.

"I bet your so fucking tight. Just thinking about your tight pussy taking my cock is making me so hard." He's getting himself riled up.

He rubbs the back of his neck, trying to stay focused. "I'd have to take my time with you first. Working you open until you're ready to take all of me."

"Is it big?" You ask him meekly, panting into the phone while your fingers stretch you open.

"Fuck baby--id have you feeling so full." He groaned in the mic, struggling to keep himself composed. Clenching his jaw tight as he opens and closes his fists.

Eddies tries his best to resist rubbing himself over his jeans as he listened to you. He has to remember this isn't about him right now it's all about you. His sole purpose of the night is making you cum and he's determined you will.

Your fingers continue pumping in and out at a vigorous pace. The vibrator placed carefully on your sore bud while you try your best not to drop the phone again. "I can hear your dripping pussy from here."

His words turn you on even more, making you grow wetter for him. Your body is covered in beads of sweat as your face grows hot. Your pussy making a loud schlick noise with every pump of your fingers.

"Feel good?" He asked you with amusement etched in his tone.

"Yes, it feels so good." You let out weak pathetic response. "Oh my god!" You squealed into the phone. Desperately trying to keep it balanced between your head and shoulder. You're a moaning, whimpering mess, and you don't care how loud you're being. You've never felt like this before it's terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

He laughs, rubbing his chin letting out a quiet grunt before speaking again, "You sound so sexy when you make those little noises."

His listeners are having a hard time distinguishing if he's getting himself off in the process or if he's just playing it up for the moment. They're used to his crazy antics, but this was something entirely new. They were all shocked and impressed they were getting to witness this.

Your fingers pumping harder as you curve them upwards to rub against that sweet spot on your walls. Your thighs shake as you arch your back off the bed. You imagined they were his cock instead pounding in and out of your pussy like this. You feel a tightness in your core building up, and you know you're getting close.

"You're getting close, aren't you?" He whispered seductively.

"S'close." You whined.

"That's it be a good girl and cum." Cum all over my cock." He groaned.

The vibrator on your clit helping to bring you closer to your release. You spread your legs them even further apart. You're moaning louder into the phone. You can't even hear Eddie's voice anymore. Fucking yourself with your fingers is becoming difficult the closer you are to your release. Your walls clenching up tightly around them, and your pulse quickening.

You plunge them in and out of your pussy faster. That coil in your tummy is getting tighter. The feeling is all too familiar, and you start to get scared. What if you can't get past this part? You're doubting yourself again. You let out a deep breath and relax your mind.

Your legs shut involuntarily, and the vibrator falls from between your thighs. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your first ever orgasm rips through your body with so much intensity. Your vision goes black, and you stop breathing for a second. The phone lays abandoned next to your head, having dropped it long ago. You can hear Eddie's muffled voice calling out for you.

Tears begin pouring from the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help getting emotional after all of that. Not only was this your first time ever being able to have an orgasm, but the entirety of the situation was starting to set in. You felt amazing, and Eddie did such a great job helping you along the way. There were just some insecurities starting to creep in that you wanted to keep away. He's the only man that's ever made you feel like this, and you hope maybe one day you'd find the courage to meet him in person.

Everything went dead silent for a few minutes except for a few sniffles you hope no one else could hear. Your body glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with your juices. You're still coming down from your high as your tears slowly fade away.

"You there, sweetheart? You heard him ask from a short distance.

With shakey hands, you pick up the phone to your ear. "Mmhmm...I'm still here." Your voice coming out small.

"You did so good for me." He praised you one last time. "It's okay. I'm right here He reassured.

"How was it?" He asked, hoping you had a good time.

"It was overwhelming but amazing." You smile weakly into the phone. You can't see him, but he's smiling back.

"Yea knew I'd be perfect for the job. Haven't had one complaint yet." His cockiness coming back almost immediately. Just as he was about to reach for a pack of cigarettes, he noticed he's way over his scheduled time. His eyes widened in a panic as he locked eyes with the clock above him.

His assistant busts through the door, signaling that the show is now officially over for the night. Eddie startles for a moment before jumping out of his chair and yanks the mic up to his mouth to close out the rest of the segment.

He slams his hands down on the table enthusiastically. "GOOD!..GREAT!-- and that's it for tonight's show everybody thank you all for listening. Thank you to our lovely caller, and if you guys wanna see my band play, come visit us at The Hideout every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Especially you miss caller you can come see me anytime you like."

You listened to him give thanks to everyone when the song called "about a girl" from some band named Nirvana fades away his outro. You flopped back down on your bed. Your body is way too weak to even roll over your legs feeling like jello.

Laying there resisting the urge to fall asleep, wanting to savor this special moment as long as you could. You thought about what he said before hanging up. You were definitely wanted to see him soon. You had to after this night. You needed to finally meet him and maybe repay the favor.

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

[kittykatinabag]

Sometimes I doubt if I'm actually bisexual and only like the feminine aspect of people.

Then I go traveling again and share hostel rooms and see girls in their cute summer pajama sets and fashionable outfits and occasionally walk around in bras and bike shorts and I'm like yes, definitely bi.