#i just hate painting hands it never looks ok or good
Note
I saw that you think Miguel is a thigh man 😩 can I request him x reader who's thighs clap when they run or so some type of activities. I got that problem sadly 😵💫😮💨
yes, of course!! i love talking ab our thigh fucker ;^)
cw: body insecurities, thigh chafing (yeouch), fluffy reassurances, small bit of smut (OK IM SORRY 😳 i didn't see that coming [yes i did.]), just oral and uh, a bit of marking, not proof read!!
---
you've never enjoyed prolonged physical activity: running, swimming, biking, etc, because you hated the way your thighs would slide against each other; uncomfortably chafing your skin and making noticeable sounds.
so when miguel proposed a hike for your weekly date, you were hesitant to agree. unfortunately, he's very good at persuading you...
that's how you found yourself on a narrow trial shrouded with trees, taking slow, cautious steps as you attempt to keep your thighs from touching as much as usual.
of course, it only helped so much. your inner thighs were still chafing and getting sore, but you try to conceal your pain as much as possible, too embarrassed to mention anything to miguel.
though your boyfriend is the most loving and accepting man you've ever met, you still haven't told him of your insecurity. you're afraid that once you mention something to him, he'll notice your thighs even more.
miguel is pacing himself, making sure to slow down with you so he doesn't leave you behind (he does this hike all the time). he adjusts his baseball cap, making sure his wild curls are smooshed down as he watches you walk toward him.
you look beautiful today. you always look beautiful. but there's something about see you in this condition that make him twitch in his shorts.
he loves the way your chest heaves as you take deep breaths, your tits pressing desperately against the thin fabric. how droplets of sweat roll over the contours of your cleavage, outlining what he wants to see the most. and how your leggings look like they were painted on, completely revealing the overwhelming softness of your thighs and how they press so sweetly together.
he can barely take his eyes off of you.
but he can't help but notice how odd you're acting too.
he's perplexed as to why you're taking such big steps and moving like you'd rather be anywhere but there, with him. why your face is tense, yet completely blank at the same time.
there's clearly something wrong, but you've been silent this whole hike.
"baby, you doing alright?" you seem to be lost in your thoughts as you stare down at your dirt-scuffed sneakers, you don't even notice he's stopped in front of you. he calls out to you again, "babe?"
"hm?" you look up, pausing your unnatural movements to give your legs a rest, "oh, yeah...i'm fine" you attempt a smile, but even you can tell it looks fake and performative. his eyes bloom with concern as he notices how your legs are shaking under you.
"what's going on, sweetheart? are you hurt?"
"no...it's just," you look away, still apprehensive to mention anything.
he pushes, hand reaching for yours, "just what?"
"i-my thighs are chafing..." you say softly, looking back at him. he's frowning. "b-but i can keep going!" you start walking again, willing yourself to continue even though it hurts.
"baby, wait," he stops you, "don't hurt yourself. i didn't realize you were having trouble this whole time."
you shrug, "it's ok, i'm used to it."
"sweetheart, come here." he has his back turned towards you, coaxing you over to him. "get on."
"get on?"
"i'll carry you back to the car."
"no! you don't have to--"
"i want to." he interrupts, "then when we get home, we'll take a nice bath and get you all patched up."
"what about the rest of the trail?"
"we can just get our work out in at home..."
---
you sigh as warm water washes over the inflamed skin of your inner thighs. it stings sharply, but the pain feels oddly satisfying, especially as miguel thoroughly lathers shampoo in your hair.
"feel better?"
you hum, eyes closing as his fingers attentively massage your scalp.
"why didn't you tell me that you were hurting earlier?"
"i dunno, it just wasn't that big of a deal, mig."
"it was. you were barely able to sit without your hands between your thighs."
you snort, "i thought you liked it when i do that."
you yelp when you feel him tug sharply at your hair. "you know what i meant." he growled, clearly unhappy you're trying to avoid the subject.
"it's embarrassing."
"what's embarrassing?" his hands start to cup water onto your head, washing the suds from your hair until you're squeaky clean.
"my thighs." his movements stop suddenly.
"what about them?"
"they're...too big."
"too big?" he genuinely sounds baffled, almost scoffing in disbelief.
"yeah, they're always touching and they make this...clapping sound when i do certain physical movements..."
"so?"
"so?" you turn your head to look at him, questioning eyes meeting his scarlet stare. his red irises are mere slivers with how blown out his pupils are, heavy with lust.
"yeah, so what?"
"so...i don't like them." you voice is small as you look at him shyly, cheeks blooming with heat under the stringiness of your wet hair.
"well i love them."
---
miguel presses gentle and sweet kisses over your tender skin, relieving all the pain from your chafed inner thighs with just a touch of his lips. your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he makes his way up your body.
the prominent shape of his fangs press against his top lip as his sharp maroon stare fixes right at the apex of your thighs. you can tell he's holding himself back by the way his fingers grip bruises into the tops of your legs.
"baby, you have no idea," he takes a deep breath, eyes closed as his nose nuzzles at your inner thigh, "how fucking perfect you are."
"mig, please!"
he smiles cloyingly, letting you watch his fangs retract before he dips his head closer to your center. he wouldn't want to hurt you...
he locks eyes with you when he experimentally slips his tongue through your soaking lips, only giving you enough attention to keep you buzzing. he's delicately laving against you, feeling you tense and pant under him as he slowly builds up your pleasure.
a haze of lust instantly clouds over his darkened eyes and you watch as he gets lost in the taste of you. he pushes in deeper, tongue fucking you, slurping and sucking, while spilling muffled groans over your pulsing cunt as your thighs begin to tighten around him.
he flicks over your aching clit, drinking in your whimpers, moans, and cries as he teases you, pulling back every so often until you bury your hand into his curls and force him down onto you.
you're nearly suffocating him with your thighs when he start suckling you into his mouth, muscles trembling against him as you grow closer to the edge, and he loves it.
his silky lips and slick tongue push you straight off the edge. you hold on to him as your body writhes with white hot pleasure, hand in his hair and thighs around his head. you can barely hear the muffled groans he makes from how lost in ecstasy you are.
but he groans, and grunts, and then freezes.
"did i just..." he unwraps your legs from around him and sits up, tugging his briefs down in disbelief. your bleary eyes open, eyes glazed and unfocused from the intensity of your orgasm. "shit."
you look down and are graced with a beautiful mess that drips from his cock and the black fabric of his boxers.
you can't help the amused smile that spreads over your lips, "you need some help cleaning that up?"
#anon#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#fluff#miguel o’hara smut
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aren’t you going to write “degradation taken too far” but with satoru? 🫦😰😭
you asked for it babe; i didn’t wanna hurt yall gojo girlies (inc myself) but you want pain? ok. pain is what you get. warnings : (mature content 18+) smut, degradation, gojo being mean (yes it’s a warning), angst to comfort??and maybe have a tissue box or two????
‘look at the gorgeous mess that you are baby. never knew you’d fold this easy’ he remarks, lips trailing down your body, sucking violet coloured hickeys along the way.
‘satoru- i already told you that the last time, will be the last time! so why are you-!’ slowly but gently he slides in, a wave of contentment washing over you, immediately shutting you up.
‘hmm what was that? mind repeating it f’me sweetheart?’ he smirks.
you decided to stay quiet because what’s the use? you’re gonna end up with him on top you again. mostly tomorrow. and the day after that.
and that’s when you realise that the pace was starting to pick up and his hands were now on your clit, rubbing hard circles eliciting nothing but moans and whines from you.
‘satoru oh my god! shit, feel so good i feel like i’m gonna cum!’ you reach up to slither your arms around his shoulders, your breathy pants now right by ear.
‘toru agh! fuck fuck- i…i love you satoru, i love you so much! please, if you keep this up i might-’ suddenly with a roughness unknown to you, he pulls out.
‘wait wait wait, why’d you stop? i was so close-!’ you pant, leaning up on your elbows.
instantly, there was a shift in his aura.
‘love? you said love? what makes you think i will ever love someone like you? you’re just a hole to fuck. a passing cloud. something for me to do when i’m bored of my fucked up life. nothing more’ he erupts.
‘what?’ your voice was reduced to nothing but a whisper.
‘where in the wide wide vicinity of your fantasy land did you come up with ‘love’ ?’ he spat.
‘i mean seriously, you thought this was something-‘ he knew what he was saying was far from the truth.
why would he not love you? what is there not to love? if he knew what love meant, it’s because of you.
but you shouldn’t love him, but you do. why? why do you wanna be with him? why do you wanna be tied down to someone like him?
meanwhile your mind is racing with a million different thoughts, not knowing what or how to respond.
‘it’s best if you just leave’ he finishes.
you didn’t need to hear the entirety of his speech to know that you were…disposable? replaceable?
the dam breaks and tears stream down your cheeks, eyes red and body trembling. you gather of what’s left of your heart and face him ‘this really is the last time’ you whisper, meaning every word, clutching hard at the sheets for some kind of comfort, without breaking the eye contact.
that’s when his eyes look at you.
your eyes. god, your eyes. they were one of the reasons he fell in love with you. they were fierce, beautiful and always on him. but now they were broken, filled with pain and tears, still beautiful and held nothing but ache.
next was your lips he loved kissing so much. his personal favourite, was always ready to put him in his place and bring him to his knees. now they were trembling. in hate, or fear? he thinks he doesn’t really wanna know the reason behind that.
taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves because there was no going back now. the cat and mouse chase ends here.
suddenly, a huge wave of warmth enveloped you and it took you mere two seconds to realise that he was hugging you, and hardly a second for you to come to the realisation that you would never push him away.
‘i want you to know that you mean so much to me. a while ago my world was nothing but dark, but you came painted it all, giving meaning to each and every little thing in it. i deserve to rot in hell cuz fuck, i didn’t mean a word of what came out of my mouth’ and that’s when you felt little drops on your neck.
never once has he cried in front of you, always going on about how ‘the strongest never cry’
‘you mean the world to me baby. when you told me you loved me, i was brain dead. never knew i was capable of being loved by someone like you. i mean, why would you love someone like me? all my versions are nothing but a wretched mess, so why would you-?’
pulling back to look at him, your eyes are stern when you tell him-
‘you are actually an idiot if you think i care about any of that’ wiping away this tears, your hands rest against his cheeks.
‘i want all your versions satoru. flaws and all. i want them to course through my veins. i want you in all my mornings and all my nights. i want you everywhere. and if you’re going down, i’m willing to go down with you. so please, please don’t push me away’ you said because loving him was as easy as breathing, your eyes once again starting to tear up.
and that was the confirmation he needed, as he leaned down ‘i love you, i love you so much. i fucking love you’ chanting over and over again. pressing kisses everywhere. your nose, lips, cheeks, forehead, everywhere.
‘i adore you and i promise to cherish you like you deserve till we’re old and wrinkly’ he bumps his nose against yours, earning a small laugh from you.
‘i know you will satoru’ you whisper, bumping his nose in return ‘i will love you till we’re old wrinkly too’
#THIS WAS UNNECESSARILY LONG BYE#I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jjk smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo x reader
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You and Katsuki exchange Christmas gifts.
You plopped down on your bed and let out an exhausted sigh. Most of your classmates were still in the common room enjoying the holiday party. It was nice to relax and not think about school or hero work for a bit, but after a while you found yourself worn out from so much energy.
As much as you enjoyed yourself it felt nice to be in the quiet of your room relaxing after the busy night. You began to get your bed ready to sleep when a knock on your door startled you.
You opened the door and were surprised to see Katsuki.
"Oh- hey," You greeted him.
"You left early," he observed.
"Yeah," you said stepping aside and allowing him to come into your room. "I guess I was just exhausted from all the socializing," You explained. Katsuki came in and sat on your chair as you shut the door.
"Hm- I get that," He replied.
That was when you noticed that he had a gift bag in his hand.
"Here-," Was all he said as an explanation as he held out the bag to you. Normally giving someone a gift is a sweet gentle gesture, but the intense glare in Katsuki's eyes contradicted his actions. "Take it already dumb ass," he said, shaking the gift at you.
You grabbed the gift and sat opposite of him on your bed, 'You didn't have to-," You began to say but were quickly interrupted.
"Don't give me that you didn't have to crap. Of course, I fucking didn't- but I did, so just open the stupid thing," He barked.
You knew better than to argue with Katsuki, so you took out the haphazardly placed tissue paper to reveal a shoe box. You looked at him curiously.
"Take em' out idiot," He said.
You took out the box and tossed off the lid revealing some hiking boots inside.
"Bakugo these look really expensive I can't-," You said but again found yourself interrupted.
"I'm not taking them back. You like that color right?"
"Yeah, I do- they are really nice but-,"
"No fucking buts. Now your dumb ass won't slip again when we go on hikes," He said.
Your face flushed from the embarrassing memory of when you fell, and because his words indicated he wanted to hike with you again.
"Tch- don't fucking look at me like that! Its... it's not even that big of a deal," He said and looked away from you.
You knew Katsuki enough by now to understand that he only had a rough demeanor because he felt awkward in these situations. Any grand show of emotions would send him running straight out of your room, so you bottled up how truly thankfully you felt and sufficed with a simple, "Thank you Bakugo."
"Yeah whatever," he grumbled jamming his hands into the pocket of his sweats.
"I um- sort of have something for you too," You spoke. You had made something for Katsuki but had debated on giving it to him or not. You found yourself too shy to give it to him tonight in front of the rest of your class, so you never brought it down from your room. However, now that he was in your room and had just given you such a thoughtful gift, you decided it was the perfect time.
"Hu?" He exclaimed shocked and snapped his head to look at you.
You grabbed the gift from under your bed and handed him a sadly wrapped gift.
"This is wrapped like shit," he said as grabbed it from you.
"Oh come on I tried my best. We can't all be naturally good at everything like you!" You teased.
Katsuki let out an amused puff of air as he tore at the wrapping paper. Once he revealed the gift he held it in his hands staring at it for what felt like entirely too long.
You began to feel self-conscious about your gift. It was a painting you made. The painting was a portrait of him in his hero costume, and at the top, you wrote the words "Future #1 Hero".
The longer Katsuki looked at it without saying anything the more you began to panic. You couldn't see his expression at all as his face was hidden by his spiky blond hair.
Shit, it was too dumb and cheesy, wasn't it?? And how cocky of you to think your artwork would constitute a gift.
"If you hate it it's ok! I wasn't even sure I was going to give it to you. Here, it's fine you can just forget about it!" You said nervously and tried to grab at the painting.
Katsuki's grip tightened on the painting as you tried to pull it away, "No!" he barked causing you to jump.
You sat down confused and Katsuki cleared his throat but didn't look up at you yet.
"It's good," He said in a low raspy voice.
You titled your head. Sometimes it was still so hard to read Katsuki's true emotions.
Katsuki stared at the painting trying to get ahold of himself. To see the words at the top "Future #1 Hero" struck something in him that he was trying to push back down. He didn't want to be so vulnerable in front of you but- to see and hold in his hands that someone else was rooting for him meant more to him than he would ever be able to say in words to you.
Finally, he was able to blink away the sting in his eyes that threatened tears. He could hold it back long enough to look at you again.
"I like it," He spoke, giving you not quite a smile- but not a scowl. Which was rare.
"You don't have to lie," you respond.
"I don't lie brat," He said and stood up, eager to leave as the lump in his throat threatened to return again at any more kindness from you.
"You're leaving?" You asked.
"Hm? Yeah- it's late. Looks like I interrupted you going to bed too," He said nodding to your half-turned-down comforter.
"It's fine... you know you're welcome any time..." You said softly.
Katsuki didn't respond but let out a grunt in acknowledgment.
You followed him to the door as he began to open it.
"Bakugo wait-," You said before you lost your nerve to follow through with your impulsive thought.
Katsuki turned around and you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Merry Christmas."
"Yeah- merry whatever to you too," He said and turned to leave, a small blush on his cheeks.
Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle
#katsuki fanfic#katsuki x reader#katsuki fluff#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x you#bakugo x reader#bakugo x gender neutral reader#mha bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x self insert#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n#bnha x gender neutral reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x self insert#bnha x you#bnha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#mha x gender neutral reader
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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.
#slashers#dead by daylight#fanfiction#reader insert#father and child relationship#Teenage reader#platonic love only#slashers as dads#freddy krueger x reader#michael myers x reader#bo sinclair x reader#reader x hannibal lecter#lester sinclair#vincent sinclair#father figure
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Could you write a steddie x reader fic where the reader is a brat and they put her in her place
No rush at all take your time :) 💗
A/N: I'm posting this on my phone so I hope it comes our right! Enjoy ❤
Warnings: Dom steddie/ sub reader, punishment (spanking with a belt)
Word count: 1157
Where are they? I hate being at these social events alone.
Tonight, your friends Nancy and Jonathan were celebrating their engagement and you seriously couldn’t be happier. The thing was as soon as you and the guys showed up to their little get together, they almost immediately detached from your side to talk to other people.
You weren’t a fan big groups of people and hated not having at least one of them near you to ground yourself. After wondering the house for a few minutes, you finally found Steve sitting by the pool talking to Robin who greeted you with a big smile.
“Hey Robin. Steve, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Actually, baby, we’re kind of in the middle of a conversation here. Is it important or do you think you can go find Eddie?”
Without responding, you turned on your heels to search for the metalhead who suddenly appeared at the kitchen table with the other Hellfire kids as they excitedly discussed something Dungeons and Dragons related.
“Um, Eddie… EDDIE!” It took him awhile to even look your way which aggravated the hell out of you. “Can I talk to you, please?”
“Is it important, sweetheart? Do you think you can go find Steve and we can talk about it later?” He didn’t wait for an answer before turning to continue his conversation with Mike.
You growled under your breath at his dismissal.
“EDWARD!” All conversation at the table ceased as the man slowly turned his head towards you. “I need to talk to you.”
He rose to his feet, his hand roughly squeezing your arm as he pushed you away from his friends. “Y/N, if you think I won’t bend you over this table and spank you in front of these people you are sadly mistaken. Now…I am in the middle of a conversation. Go find Steve.”
“Steve told me to come find you.”
“Then we’re both busy, huh, princess? Believe it or not the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Something snapped inside of you at his words and he saw it as his head tilted to the side.
“No, Sir. You are absolutely right. The world doesn’t revolve around me. Let me just go find someone else who isn’t busy.” You glared at him before grabbing a glass of wine off the counter and disappearing from his view.
An hour and two glasses of wine later, you find your anxieties start to fade.
“I think you’ve had enough.” An arm appears from behind you and you turn to see Steve taking the glass from your hand.
“Excuse me but I don’t think I asked. This a party, Daddy. Why don’t go have fun with Robin and I’ll have fun by myself.”
A smirk paints his lips as he glares down at you. “I heard Eddie already gave you one warning so I’m not going to bother. Disobey or talk back again and we’ll punish you right here. I don’t care who hears you scream.”
Your eyes never leave his as you reach towards the counter, grab the bottle of wine, and close your eyes as you chug it back.
When you open them again you find his grin has grown as he reaches out to gently caress your cheek with his thumb. “Ok, little girl. Eddie?”
You’re suddenly lifted into the air as two arms wrap around you and carry you down a hallway into a nearby bathroom. You yelp as your thrown against the sink and a rough hand presses on your upper back to keep you still as your face presses into the granite.
“Let’s see. You said she disrespected you, she just talked back to me, and disobeyed. What do you think, Ed? 15?”
“Are you using the belt or your hand?”
“I was thinking belt. You know, make sure it really sinks in that she’s being a little brat.”
You try and push back against Eddie’s hold but he just grips you tighter as they casually talk. “Maybe 10 then for now and then an additional punishment when we get home?”
“Sounds good to me.”, Steve chuckles as you hear the sound of his belt buckle behind you. After roughly lifting your skirt and pulling down your panties, you braced for what was about to follow. “Now I know you’re struggling with listening today, baby, but this should be easy for you. I want you to count and then when we’re done, I want you to thank us. Do you understand?”
You growled through your teeth and Eddie responded by tugging at your hair. “He asked you something. You fucking answer. You keep behaving this way and we can open the door so everyone can see.”
“No. I’m sorry, Sir. Yes, Daddy, I understand.” The leather promptly came down on your behind and you gasped at the feeling. “One.”
“I will never understand why you insist on doing things the hard way, little girl.”
*SMACK*
“Two.”
“I mean wouldn’t it be easier to just do what we say the first time around instead of arguing or being disrespectful?” You winced as he hit you twice and you moaned out the numbers.
“I-I-I tried to be respectful! Y-you both brushed me off!”
*SMACK*
“Mmm…five.”
“What did I tell you, little one? If Daddy and I are busy then we are busy. If it’s not important then you can wait.” Your hand reached around to grip Eddie’s wrist as the belt came down again.
“Six. Y-y-you know I don’t like social situations. I-I-I get scared.” You felt the brat leak away as the little girl stepped forward into the headspace. The little girl that needed them to take care of you and make you feel safe.
The tears slowly begin to fall as he hit you two more times before you felt a hand lightly brush through your hair. “We’re almost done, honey. Two more. You’re taking your punishment like such a good girl.”, Steve cooed in a much softer tone than he had before.
Eddie lifted his hand off your back and gently placed it on your cheek as his thumb rubbed under your eyes. You flinched as he smacked the belt against you again before landing his final one against your ass.
“Ten. Th-thank you, Daddy and Sir. I’m s-s-sorry.”
Your underwear was carefully pulled up your legs as your skirt was pushed back down and adjusted the way it had looked before. Steve turned you around and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist as you nuzzled his chest. You felt Eddie come up behind you and do the same as he rested his cheek on the top of your head.
“You did really good, baby.”
You pulled away from them as you wiped your eyes, Steve reaching his palm out to smooth down your hair.
“Can one of you please stay with me? I…I don’t like crowds.”
Eddie’s fingers reached for yours as he held your hand. “Of course, princess. That is considered important. You being comfortable IS important. I wish you had said something.”
“Instead of being a pain in the ass.”
You smile at them as you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll be clear next time. I promise!”
“Naw, you’ll be a fucking brat next time but that’s ok. We definitely don’t mind reminding who’s in charge.”
#steddie#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#joseph quinn#fan fiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#joe keery#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#daddy steve harrington#sir eddie munson#steddie x y/n#eddie fanfic#steddie ask
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I can't stop reading your Hozier imagines! sooooo good😃❤❤ can I please request one where he's always saying that yn is his soulmate (she is, but she doesnt admit it) idk I've been thinking about this concept , and who more deserving than our tall boy? 😍😍
noun: soulmate
a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.
Andrew had a list of reasons why he believed he had met his true soulmate. He felt so comfortable around Y/N, like it was easier to breathe around her. She was furniture in the house in the best way, a beautiful addition that is right where it belongs, always where he needs it. She fit in every part of his life, like she was part of the puzzle his life will be displayed as. He felt like she was helping him put the puzzle together, she had the image on the front of the box and put the small bits together with a relaxed ere that Andrew could never achieve.
He often tried to tell her this, and she rolled her eyes at his artistic sappiness.
It happened once when he was sick, he had pushed himself too far in the studio and ended up with laryngitis, again. Y/N's heart melted at his sad scratchy voice and his sweater arms pulled over his hands. She plodded up the stairs with a mug of tea with plenty of honey, and pushed open the old, painted door that would often get stuck in the frame. Andrew's head picked up from his pillow slightly, and fell back down after recognizing the figure. Her socked feet continued over the antique hardwood floors that have held up for centuries, and placed the mug on the slightly more modern bedside table next to her resting husband. She pushed his messy hair out off his face and placed a kiss on his heated forehead. Andrew started to lean up, and reached his lithe arm out to grab his mug of extra-sweet tea.
"You're really my soulmate, Y/N", he said, as a thank you.
"Ok, whatever you say" Y/N replied, laughing slightly, thinking him a little dramatic.
______
Another time, Y/N was yelling for him from the hallway. He poked his head out of his music room and saw Y/N drop the tool box on the ground next to their bedroom.
"I need help taking this door off, I'm tired of it sticking so I'm taking the paint off "
"You can do that?"
"Yeah, there's a paste that like, dissolves the paint or something"
"Why don't we just, buy a new door?"
"It's been in the house for so long, I would feel bad! And its so beautiful, I just hate that all wood these days is covered in white paint"
Andrew stared at her, he knew she loved old things, but watching her take the time to restore something old and meaningful was so sweet, he appreciated that she shared his love of antiques and vintage items.
"You're my soulmate, you know that?", he added after his pause.
"Yeah yeah. Just be ready to catch the door"
______
He helped her set up the door in the garage to be worked on, and often checked on her whenever he took breaks from his music. He liked to bring her drinks, and iced tea (which he found offensive, as an irishman), topped with ice and often, a lemon wedge.
He placed the cold glass on the work bench in the back of the garage, the doors open with a view of the rain pouring outside. Y/N stood in her "messy" clothes, which consisted of a ratty t-shirt that she's kept for years, and paint stained leggings. He watched her slather whatever mysterious liquid she claimed could strip paint on the old door. Andrew walks over to her, and places a small kiss on her shoulder blade while she works.
"Thank you babe", she exclaims, without l looking up from her work.
"Anything for my soulmate"
"Ok, let me know when you find her"
______
Andrew closed the door to their bedroom, now nice and lacquered, the beautiful brown wood now free from the paint that trapped it for many years. The antique knob, polished and brassy, felt cold under his hand, and he could feel the latch click through the metal. The room was dark, Y/N having gone to bed an hour or two ago. He turns the TV in front of their bed off, and climbs into bed, tucking the lush covers around him and Y/N.
His arm stretched out to pull Y/N a little closer, his had cradling the back of her head.
"I love you Y/N, you're my soulmate", he says, even though he knows she's asleep.
It's the only time he can say it and have it be treated with the reverence it deserves.
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Alot of the plots were good - but some aspects just really made the season overall awful . How dare they do that to Max. I'm livid about that. You really had venca's curse represent su*cidal thoughts- which we see Max overcoming in part 1 . Then part 2: bam vecna k*lls max- the girl who str*ggled with ab*se, a horrible home life ,and throughout the season overcame her su*cidal thoughts but got an awful ending . And while dying she says over and over she doesn't want to d*e. It's cruel. Even if she does wake up from the coma - is she blind and or paralyzed and never able to skate again? Play videogames watch movies ?And for what- vecna is alive , and hawkins was still destroyed. Her sacrifice wasn't worth it. And Eddie's death was not only cruel but pointless too. He didn't even save anyone during the scene. And he literally mentioned how he did not want to become like his criminal dad . They kill him and the whole town thinks he's a worse criminal than his father. And he never graduated - it was "not his year". Aka part of his last words.The erica and lucas scenes of being attacked- honestly deserves it's own post. Also the romance is still low key one of the worst cringe parts of an otherwise great show.
I'm sorry m*leven is still so sus to me. Like besides all their relationship issues, it's weird s1-s4 parallels m*leven to family members. Like seriously side eyeing the Duffers just for those weird family parallels- if m*leven is romantic endgame. I mean ...nancy called herself "ruth" and el was in "Ruth, nevada" (and that's like 1 of 20 examples). Just to name one of many of those weird family parallels. Like why do that?? And yeah if it's an actual romantic declaration - you'd think they'd kiss like they did in the beginning of s4 . Not even getting into retcons like mike saying meeting Will at age 5 was "the best thing I've ever done". But now he says his "life started" at age 12 when he met el- cause "love at first sight" bs trope. Love at first sight isn't real. And mike literally the day they found her was suggesting ways to send her away so they could go back to looking for Will, and when he thought el lied ( about seeing Will alive) he slapped her hand and yelled "what is wrong with you?"2x then later said lucas was right to not trust her. Ummm... love at first sight? That?! Ok?And wow glad Will could hear mike's confession about how the 1st day he was reported missing- mike's " life began". Mike be like : "I knew Will for 7 years , before I met el . And all my friendships prior to meeting el- meant nothing to me- because my life only began when I fell in love with El instantly and rushed into a relationship after 1 week of knowing her (and when we finally Date- we just fight for 2 seasons straight). True love. "
Honestly they parallel robin/vickie/her bf to will/mike/El - which is also sus. Given how (supposedly straight) Vickie and her bf breakup- and Vickie seems into Robin at the end of s4.
But regardless I'm so sick of just getting "crumbs" whether byler is a queer bait or s5 makes byler canon. I'm just tired- especially after how the socials /cast and crew constantly pumped up byler during pride month- before part 2.
Not to mention the fact we have to just see Will lie to mike to help m*leven. Even though he hates lying to mike. Like no that was Will's painting -el thought it was for a crush of Will's (she didn't commission it for Mike at all)! He was just trying to be a good friend and brother by trying to fix m*leven (and lying to mike to fix m*leven's failing romantic relationship).like think about it- mike literally thinks that d&d painting /"heart" metaphor was El's creative idea and something el made as a gift for him . When it was all Will!!! That "heart" line Will says to mike is used again later by Will- to encourage mike to confess he loves El. Will literally uses his own romantic words for mike- to encourage mike to confess to el instead. Gross. If m*leven is endgame- could they do it in a less awful way to Will? Not to mention mike finally says he loves el-partially because he's moved by Will's painting (he thinks is from el). Which is also messy for m*leven endgame. All those words in the car to mike were Will's confession (he literally just replaced his pronouns for "El" and "she/her" ). Even jonathan saw it that way. Will to mike: " you're guiding- inspiring . That's what you do. you're the heart, without the heart (i'd) fall apart. These past few months (i've) been lost without you.(cough mike said the "lost " line to Will first) .When you're different from other people ... when you're different ... sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make (me) feel like (I'm) not a mistake at all. And that gives (me ) courage to fight on. If (I) seemed like (I) was pushing you away. It's because (I'm)scared of losing you. "
And the fact we're just left with Will sulking in the corner - and being a trope of "sad gay character in love with his (supposedly straight) best friend". And have Will low key fix that the dysfunction het couple - who have trivial convoluted drama/dysfunction every season they date. But never actually resolve any of their fundamental issues - lying, spying, neglecting all their friends for eachother ,etc. Because you know the trope: gays always have to step aside and sacrifice the romantic love they have for a friend -so that same friend can instead live " happily ever after" (in a het relationship). Even if that het couple is dysfunctional and poorly written. I'm gay ... and just so tired of this type of stuff , repeated over and over and over again in media. Do writers not realize bad-rep is much worse than no-rep?Like if byler isn't canon these scenes right here are literally just rubbing salt in the wounds of Will and other gay/queer fans who empathize or relate to him.
It's like i've mentioned in the past a lot of straight writers LOVE the 'sad gay - trope' . Alot of those straight writers don't empathize with us as people, they infact "romanticize our pain" and find it "beautiful" . And just find our suffering "dramatic and angsty" decoration to their story- where they can also add bragging points of being "inclusive". They don't actually care about how problematic the queer rep is -and how it negatively affects us.
Even Will said he'd rather "pull the bandaid off" in regards to romance drama between him and mike. But duffers didn't do that- or give any closure for Will. Nah they forgot his bday and did this instead. Heck, no romantic closure for Will or even the whole st*ncy/j*ncy drama. Which is a whole other can of worms in itself (i'm saying this as someone who doesnt ship either st*ncy or j*ncy). Regardless of what could happen in s5. I'm just tired of how poorly some (frankly most) of the romance is handled in the series.
If m*leven is endgame they did it in the most reductive , stereotypical, predictable, and also hurtful way possible to lgbt fans. Without actually fixing m*leven's real issues to make us like them together as a couple. Heck (not only do they have problems that were never fixed ) : like lying /spying/ mike still hero worshiping her - which were never fixed ). They're now just a cliche ("love at first sight couple", who ever since they started dating have artifical convoluted drama every season ). Literally s3 and 4 are the same: m*leven neglect their friends for eachother, lie to eachother , fight with eachother, then say they're in love. There's no change , no progess they just repeat the same problematic pattern. Forget mike saying in part 1 this was a fight the pairing "couldn't get past" or mike nodding to Will saying maybe he's afraid to tell el the truth, cause she may not like it. Ummm - part 2 doesn't connect to that, why would El not like his confession? Not to mention mike only can say he loves her in s3 and 4 when her life is in danger (and in s4 when Will encourages him to keep talking)- not sus at all. The whole season Mike shares dialogue with brenner - even in the love confession (ick). And lol after his love confession- el won't talk to him. (purposeful hinting it won't work out ? or just horrible writing for an awful romantic pair who always have had poor communication?) Straight-mike narratively just makes mike a sh*t friend too- going from a great , considerate,and observant friend in s1 and 2. But , then the second he starts dating El in s3 :he neglects his friends for 2 straight seasons in favor of El (all while being a not good bf to her for 95% of their relationship). And also he literally said his life didn't begin until el (this is literally insulting to all his prior friendships which were established long before meeting el ). Straight-mike isn' t the "heart" of any party as Will claimed - not anymore (he straight up says his other relationships don't matter. Will, lucas, dustin- pfft his" life didn't even begin " until el ). Some of the worst days of Will's life - pfft mike, his bff, doesn't care about Will's tra*ma cause it gave him the chance to meet el. And he'll say it -right infront of Will. Iike mike could have said he's grateful to have met el in so many ways - but bringing up the day itself like that. Ugh. But in the end, both seasons his friends are the ones who have to help mike retain this supposed perfect romance. And let's get real they have no chemistry as a pairing- Mike just doesn't seem genuine in his love . And the confession incorporating mike's desire to be "needed" and having mike call her a "hero" and "superman'.yeah- hero worship from mike and dependence from el (winning romantic combo) . Also yeah , weird how El's "hero' is her dad and mike's is El. Given again all the family parallels. Heck terry(mom)/ mike saying "I love you" to El- is what gets her to defeat vecna.
And If byler is endgame in s5 - the duffers are overestimating how much bs they can put queer fans through- before they give us a happy ending . Like wow thanks for ending the season with mike & Will standing together, in between 2 other romantic pairings. After you made Will suffer through a bunch of problematic queer tropes (that you may subvert in s5- in like... 4 years). I'd say that framing at the end is a hint of byler- but they did the same framing in s3 only to do this in s4. So they may just leave those hints in the show to string and queer bait us longer. But honestly even if byler is canon in s5 (i actually think it has a decent chance of being endgame ): the Duffers sabotaged themselves. Becuse now bylers are less engaged in wanting to watch s5, and in s5 you'd piss off the m*levens . Cause mike would have lied to El and led her on (or just said it cause he didn't want her to d*e/ he meant he loved her in a non romantic way). But also when mike did his romance speech to El- he said the most messed up stuff right infront of Will ( aka the day Will was k*dnapped is when mike finally felt alive- cause he met El) . THAT'S SO MESSED UP. most bylers probably won't even bother to watch s5 - assuming the worst again too.
So my point is - regardless of whether mike is straight, gay or bi (they wrote themselves into a corner where mike looks bad either way). And his relationships with both of them are messy af.
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THOUGH I KNOW MY HEART WOULD BREAK
Part 1 || Part 2
- your best friend has come to collect you after your first true night out, and you can’t keep your feelings in any longer (patrick verona x gn!reader, angst that will be resolved ⚠️ strong themes of alcohol / being drunk and smoking, there will be a second part)
word count: 1,187
a/n - aaa my first patrick fic!! i’m definitely going to make a second part because i absolutely cannot leave this unresolved lol. lightly inspired by “francesca” by hozier :)
Partygoers whirl around you, blending flesh with flashing lights and the strong smell of alcohol. You laugh at the feeling of people brushing by your shoulder, the slight touches sending shivers through your skin. You’ve had way too much to drink, and you revel in the feeling.
God, you never knew how good being drunk felt. That’s the problem with never getting out- you won’t get to experience how light your feet are after a couple glasses. You hardly even notice the arm slung around your shoulder.
“There you are. God, you got me worried sick! I can’t leave you alone for one night, can I?” The man half-grins. You instantly recognize him. It would be hard not to, with his brown curls and gorgeous smile.
“Patrick! What are you doing here?” You slur, melting into his touch. Your best friend has come to rescue you. The thought, slippery and soft, sets butterflies loose in your stomach. Patrick Verona is at a party for you. And you love him more than your voice could ever say.
“Oh, you know, just to mingle.” You begin to nod before he cuts you off. “No, I’m here to take your ass home.” His expression turns sullen as a hint of worry lingers in his eyes. His eyebrows are pinched, and it takes your last drop of willpower to avoid reaching up to smooth them with your thumb.
You scrunch your nose. He’s yelling over the cacophony of noise in the background, but his voice is all you can focus on. “But I’m having fun for once in my miserable life.” You poke his chest. “You can’t take that away from me, not right now.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely going home. Your goody two-shoes butt will not appreciate waking up in a stranger’s house.” You frown. “Trust me.” He’s speaking a bit quicker than normal, but you’re so focused on how his eyes reflect the light that you barely notice. Nothing in the whole entire world is prettier than this moment. Not the mountains, or fresh dew, or that perfume bottle you saw in a thrift store once. He is beautiful.
You let out a sigh, slightly disappointed that you won’t be able to revel at the strobe lights for much longer. The mess of color around you was abstract art in your mind, a canvas splattered with paint. In any case, however, you will always follow Patrick. Even to the ends of the Earth.
“Ok…” You trail off as he leads you out of the stranger’s house. He’s been smoking again, as told by the lingering scent on his shirt. You’ve always hated his smoking. The smell, however, lights some sort of fire inside you. You just wish it didn’t hurt him.
When you get outside, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. The night is cold, but the stars are out. They twinkle above your head, and your breaths form clouds in the air. The noise of the party is muted, and the sky is spinning, and Patrick is worriedly waving his hand in front of your face.
That’s really the last thing you remember before you’re walking through your front door. Your parents aren’t home, thank God. There is no chance they would be happy with this situation- you, drunk, and Padua’s most feared boy bringing you home.
“Careful,” He mutters as you stumble into your bedroom. How he got you in a car is a mystery, considering the fact everything in your line of sight is blurry. You could hold a book two inches from your face and not be able to see a word. You sit down on your mattress, patting the spot next to you. He sits, and you feel the familiar little jolt in your abdomen that you always feel when he’s close. You can hardly look him in the eye; not just because you’re drunk, though that is certainly a factor.
Your room is dark, and your floor is messy, and so is his hair. You suck in your breath. You want to say something, anything, and your mind can only come up with one idea.
You need to do this. You’ve been thinking it for so long, and he deserves to know. Something in your mind is telling you not to, but the liquid courage in your veins is telling you ‘yes, yes, a million times yes’. Even though it might break your heart, the words slip past your lips like a snake to hang in the heavy air.
“I love you.”
“What was that?” His eyebrows raise as he looks at you like you’re insane. That didn’t really come out of your mouth, did it?
“I love you, Patrick. Always have.” You smile, eyes slightly unfocused. “In a more than friends way.” He can smell the alcohol clinging to you, and he hates it.
He laughs, though the sound is laden with sorrow. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“No, I really mean it.” You put your hand over his warm ones, and he doesn’t pull away.
He’s been waiting for this moment for the entire time you’ve known each other. He loves you so much it makes his heart ache. He knows the sound of your voice like his own, and he’s convinced your hands fit his like they were always meant to. Patrick fears that his head might explode until he realizes one sad little thing. It was too soon, too intoxicated, and too uncertain.
“Get some rest, girlie. I’ll find you in the morning.” He stands up, eyes burning. He needs a smoke, a drink, and a place to let himself feel the self-pity coursing through his veins. This means nothing, he tells himself. You make a pitiful sound, trying to follow him, but he can walk faster than you can stumble.
You’re so drunk you probably don’t even know what you’re saying to him. He can’t accept it, and he can’t reciprocate. If he did, he would be the biggest douche in the world. The kind of douche that preys on his drunk friend the minute they say something they would never mean while sober.
You grip onto his t-shirt, but he gently pries your hands off. You’re near tears now, and you wish he would just stay. Why can’t he, you wonder. You love him. You love him so much, so intensely it puts poetry to shame. You love his cologne, the way he speaks, his humor. You know him so well you could find him in any life, and your hands do fit his like gloves, and he can’t just leave you like this.
But he won’t let your drunk words ruin what you have. It’s too precious to be tossed out after one little slip-up. He’s not one to scare easily, but this moment is more terrifying that anything he has ever had to do in his entire life.
He needs to leave, and he needs to pray that he can get over this.
As he closes your bedroom door, separating you from the only boy you’ve ever truly loved, he mutters, “I hope you don’t remember this tomorrow.”
#solar eclipse.#patrick verona x reader#patrick verona#10 things i hate about you#10tihay#x reader#patrick verona imagines#heath ledger#fanfic#fanfiction
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Kinktober - Day 14 - Uniforms
Uniforms won out my friends. But I promise, boot worship and hate fucking soon.
Anyway, you can blame thank (!!!) @miasmaghoul who blessed me not only with the pairing but also the scenario because she has the biggest brain and I love her so. I hope I've done your vision of this justice.
1.2k words of Cumulus/Aeon uniform kink and tit-fucking beneath the cut. You're welcome.
“Bug? You ok?”
Manicured fingers wave in front of his face, thumb and forefinger pressed together into a snap that jolts enough of Aeon’s brain back into his ears to refocus. He raises his gaze to Cumulus’ eyes with difficulty. A violet blush spreading over his skin.
When he swallows, his mouth is dry. Her head is tilted, delicate brows narrowed as she looks at him, concern etched in the creases in her forehead. Aeon clears his throat. Tells himself to keep his eyes on her face.
It’s an impossible task with the way her old uniform stretches across her chest. The way it hugs every inch of her curves. Skin tight in every place that matters. Nearly painted on. Aeon folds his hands in front of his sweatpants to hide the way his cock twitches in interest.
He didn’t mean to walk in on her while she was trying it on. He’d had a question, she’d told him to come in. For the life of him he can’t remember what Mountain sent him to ask her.
Cumulus is still looking at him. Expecting an answer. An explanation. Aeon’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth the only sound that’s going to come out is an unintelligible gurgle. He tries away.
“You–uh–look really nice.”
“Nice?” Her head comes back to center. She arches an eyebrow. “Just nice?”
Aeon stumbles. Caught up between being polite and telling her what he’s really thinking. “No, I mean–shit–fuck.”
Cumulus laughs at him, melodic. Good natured. She runs her fingers down the curve of her waist and tugs on the hem of the jacket, gripping the sharp lines to adjust it.
“It’s a little tighter than it used to be–I looked better in it before.”
Aeon’s eyes are fixed on the buttons at her chest. Straining. It would take almost nothing to pop a few of them open. To have her spilling out into his waiting hands. Silky soft skin in his hands, fingers plucking at her sensitive nipples.
“I think it fits perfectly,” he says, almost mindless. Captivated by the way her body moves in the uniform when she turns to look at herself in the mirror.
“I don’t know what Copia was thinking when he approved these,” she muses. Aeon doesn’t know if she’s really lost in her own thoughts about her old uniform, or if she’s playing it up for his benefit. But he doesn’t have the brain power to care.
As she turns he gets a clear view of her ass, the way the pants hug it. He clenches his fists at his side.
“I do,” he mumbles.
Cumulus meets his eyes in the mirror and the last of his self control dribbles out of his brain. He presses up against her back. Rolls his hips against the swell of her ass. Arms coming around to pet at her waist, the soft curve of her stomach. He drags his fingers up the buttons on the coat.
Cumulus leans back against him, sighing. Watching their reflection through slitted eyes. She smiles, fangs poking out over her bottom lip. Aeon wants to eat her alive–or be eaten alive by her. He doesn’t care. He just knows he needs to touch–to feel–to worship every inch of her.
“Took you long enough.”
“I was trying to be polite,” he replies, sheepish now. Heat still flashing over his face.
“Don’t be.”
Aeon’s right about the buttons. They pop open with almost no effort. The black button up below it is much the same, stretched tight over her tits. He only undoes enough buttons to get them out. To get his hands on them.
He cups one in each hand, rolls her nipples through his fingers. They’re adorned with jewlery he’s never seen before. Simple black barbells attatched with a chain that drapes down to her stomach.
Aeon’s gut gives a little twist. Cock fully hard now where he grinds it against her.
“Pretty.”
“Do better,” Cumulus whispers, breath warm over his jaw.
“Gorgeous.”
Cumulus hums. Aeon watches her eyes flutter closed in the mirror. Body melting against him as he plays. Weighing velvety soft skin in his palms.
“Let me fuck them,” he says suddenly. The words fall from his lips before he gives himself permission to say them outloud. He blushes again, stupid human vessel. He wants to look away. To hide himself in the mass of her hair but he doesn’t. He just watches as her eyes open, vibrant blue and crinckling at the corner as she grins at him.
“I mean–uh–shit–only if you want–I–
“Bug?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and fuck my tits.” She turns in his grasp lightening fast. Pressing up against him. She stands on her toes and kisses him. Slow and syrupy. Tongue dragging decadently over his as she pulls him toward the bed with a hand fisted in his t-shirt.
Aeon looses track of it all for a minute. Lost in the taste of her, the feel of her in his hands. He’s drifting long before she shoves his pants down to his thighs, cock springing free and into her waiting hand.
It takes longer than it should to get in a position that works. They keep getting distracted. Pausing mid movement to kiss, to touch. But eventually they get there. Cumulus on her back. Aeon straddling her ribs. She’s still wearing her uniform, just pulled apart to free her tits. Jacket and shirt still fully on. Buttoned beneath her chest, excentuating her waist, her hips her thighs. Aeon wishes he’d thought to bring his phone. He wants a picture of her like this. Spread out before him. Wrapped up in skin-tight fabric. Tits spilling out into his hands. .
He taps the wet head of his dick over one of her nipples, leaving a shiny smear of pre-cum over the dusky flesh.
Aeon grabs the chain connecting Cumulus’ piercings, he wraps the metal around his hand once. Something to hold onto. The noise she makes when he pulls up on it makes his stomach hurt. A soft gasp, gut punched.
He presses his cock between her tits. The skin silky smooth and pliant against him. Giving way with each roll of his hips. She tips her head down and spits on the head of his cock when it comes out the other side. Enough to make the next slide wet and decadent.
Aeon pulls a little harder on the chain. It only serves to press her tits tighter around his cock. He tries to keep his composure, to start slow. To take his time. But it’s too good. Each wet slide drives him closer and closer to insanity. He can’t help it.
Cumulus isn’t helping. Not with the way she presses her tits together. Not with the little moans she makes when each thrust rattles the chain in Aeon’s grasp, pulls tighter on her nipples. Sensitive and swelling from the pressure.
“Lu–fuck–so fucking good.”
“If you get any cum on this uniform you’re getting the stain out,” she threatens. The wolfish grin pulling at her lips does nothing to stop the way Aeon’s balls tighten up.
Aeon groans, digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek as he ruts his hips against her harder. He thinks that punishment is probably worth the reward.
#comet writes#kinktober#kinktober 2023#ghostober#ghostober 2023#cumulus ghoulette#aeon ghoul#cumulus/aeon#aeon/cumulus#ghost fic#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfiction#ghost band fic#ghost band fanfic#ghost band fanfiction#I did not edit a word of this#so you know if shit is fucked that's why
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#19.1 Anticipation
Grace opened the door to their dorm, and wasn't surprised to find that the room was dark. "Agni?"
Velt swam past him and whistled along, as if she was also calling for her master.
"Coming," Agni called from the mezzanine floor and Grace felt his presence descending the stairs.
"I'm going to turn on the lights, ok?" Grace warned before clicking on the lights. Colors returned and painted the familiar figure on the staircase.
Agni’s right hand was gripping a walking cane that Grace hadn't seen in years. It was back when Agni was severely burned that they also discovered damage to his left knee. Agni never told him exactly what happened, but the doctor that tended to him said that it had broken so many times that it would likely never heal completely.
The recovery took weeks, but Agni was able to walk normally again. He avoided frontline fights from then on, but if there was no choice, he was careful with his moves. Someone must've caught him off guard to be able to land a hit there. Could it be that this was the cause of his bad mood?
"Hey," Agni greeted Velt as she swam beside him. He patted her once before resuming his steps, making his way to Grace. "Welcome back."
"What happened?" Grace asked. He brought his hand to caress Agni's hair, undoing the clip and slipping his mask off his face.
To Grace's surprise, Agni smiled fondly. "Mini-me figured out my weak points."
"Well…" That probably wasn't it, then. It looked like he had a good time with them, especially with Khun's progress. "As expected from you."
Agni chuckled and took control of Grace's lighthouse. "Yeah. Kind of proud, perhaps."
"Glad to know you both get along."
"As good as currently possible. It's still a work in progress."
Grace gave Agni's mask back and trailed after him to the living room along with Velt. He resisted the urge to hold Agni's arm to support him, knowing that Agni hated being coddled when he was clearly capable by himself.
"I healed the worst of it. I just need to rest it a little." Agni assured, reading Grace's worry easily. "It should be good tomorrow."
Grace felt a little comforted after hearing that, knowing that it wasn't as serious as he had feared. Although he could still feel some uneasiness radiating from Agni.
"How's your day?" Agni asked, as Grace set the food and drinks down on the coffee table.
"Master called me after our call ended. After some explaining and persuading, he left me to practice together with Bam. I'm currently trying to teach him how to use reverse flow control for a wider range." Although it was a bit hard when Bam didn't have his emotions under control, so they were quick to call it a day and just sat together until Bam's curfew.
Agni hummed thoughtfully, "That gives me an idea for our next mock battle. I’ll think about it first."
"Cool." Grace joined Agni to sit on the floor, side by side. "How about you? It seems like you have something on your mind."
"Yeah, it's…" Agni avoided his gaze by staring ahead, "...not really about today's spar."
Grace raised his eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"
"I will tell you after dinner, alright? Go take a bath first. I've prepared your clothes in the bathroom."
Grace obediently got up when Agni nudged him away, though he gave Agni one last glance before turning around the corner and locking the bathroom door. He went on autopilot as his thoughts spiraled. Nothing major should be happening to the team right now, but what else could be the cause of this unease? It feels as if…someone they know had just died.
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If you're curious, I'm putting their dorm room design under the cut
#the room design will change but the layout stays the same. There are lots of things that could be better but i don't have the time yet#oh yea if you noticed and wondered that on the previous update Grace was wearing his jacket but then it disappears from view#it's bc he had tied it around his waist#anyway...glimpses of Agni's past hehehe. Reveal soon 👀#tower of god#tog#two sides of the same coin fic#my fic#my art#bam#baam#25th baam#25th bam#the 25th baam#the 25th bam#jue viole grace#khun#koon#khun a.a#khun aguero agnis#khunbam#koonbaam#bamxkhun#shibisu#ship leesoo#hatz#rak wraithraiser#rak
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Warning: Swearing
Background: A deal and a sign
Status: Ongoing
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Peace by your side: Chapter Four
It was spring, we were four. We would go to this meadow that not many people had known about. At that time the flowers had already grown and me and Kyle would run around before we had to go back home.
We were exhausted from trying to catch butterflies and just laid on the grass together. There were clouds in the sky. The white against the bright blue set the perfect scene for us and I knew I didn't want to be anywhere else. Being there felt right it filled me with the warmth I had always felt when around Kyle, it was nothing like being around the other kids.
I watched the clouds pass and I assumed Kyle was doing the same but when I turned my head to finally look at him, he was staring at me. I thought nothing at the time, but looking back and analyzing the look in his eyes I can see it wasn't nothing, not to him.
"I wish I could touch a cloud," I said shining my bright smile, that I would only show to Kyle at the time. My front tooth had fallen out a few weeks before and it was embarrassing showing it off but I was never embarrassed to show Kyle.
Kyle smiled and took my hand, putting it on top of his head. His red curls felt soft under my palm and strands of red slipped between the gaps of my small fingers.
"I'll be your cloud." His voice was soft and quiet like it was a secret meant only for me.
"You can't be a cloud, clouds are white," I said with a giggle.
"Not always!" He said sitting up, my hand slipping down from his hair.
"Yes always!" I said giggling at his anger, sitting up beside him.
"No. Look!" He said pointing at the sky.
It had gotten darker while we were having our little argument, the sun had started to go down already painting the sky in pinks, oranges, and yellows. Some of the clouds were still white but the ones around the the sun were orange. The exact orange of Kyle's hair.
"See? Clouds can be orange." He said beaming proudly.
"OK. You can be my cloud."
⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅
I look up at him. It's hard to process what he's saying and I can hear only ringing coming from my ears. He's touching my lips and everything inside me is screaming at me to pull away. But another part, a much smaller part, wants to pull him in.
I want him to keep touching me like this. To keep looking at me like I'm the only person on Earth but I shouldn't. Even if we stopped being what we are now and tried to go back to normal like when we were kids it would never be the same. He isn't that same boy who held my hand when it was dark and kissed my bruises when I fell off my bike and I'm not the same person who needed him to do those things.
I looked up at him, his gaze piercing as he looked into my eyes. "What are you.."
"One month. Hell, one week. Let me show you why this isn't who we are. Let me remind you of everything Y/N." He said almost pleading, his thumb moving down from my bottom lip to stroke my cheek and I'm sure he can feel how his touch is burning my skin.
"I-I'ts not a good idea-"
"Why? Because our parents hate each other? They don't need to know. And who gives a fuck Y/N?" He said, his brows furrowing in frustration. "Y/N, please. Just give me this. Let me show you. I'll even take a day."
I don't know what he was planning to do when I agreed to give him the time he wanted but my mind felt like a war zone. Every skeptical part of me fighting so I would say no and tell him to leave me alone and just go back to ignoring him like I'd been doing for years, but across the field, fighting by itself, was the small part of me who wanted this.
And even though it felt like a million against one, that one was winning. Doing so well that when the war in my head was over the words were already tumbling from my lips without restraint.
"How much time do you need?" I asked, my voice quiet but it seemed to impact him as his eyes brightened and the skin that was making contact with mine warmed up.
"As much as you're willing to give me." His voice still sounded a bit distant but at least the ringing in my ears was calming.
"A week," I said before I could take it back.
It seemed to be the right answer though. Kyle looked like I had just told him we were going to Disneyland and he could get on any ride he wanted. "Perfect. More than enough time."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'll figure it out. But you need to be ready. Here give me your number." He said, pulling his hands away from my face so he could grab his phone.
My skin immediately cooled down and I felt a shiver run up my spine as I watched him pull out his phone. He handed it to me and I put in my number to his phone. As I typed in my name so many other names from his contacts popped up and it reminded me of how much I missed. I recognized some of them, kids from school, sports, and clubs. But the ones I didn't recognize were too much that I quickly finished up and handed him his phone back.
"Oh." He said with genuine surprise as he looked at his phone screen.
"W-what?" I asked, worried that maybe somehow I spelled my name wrong or that he realized how bad of an idea this was.
"We're number neighbors. Look." He said with a smile as he showed me his screen. "See? Same nine numbers but yours ends in a five and mine ends in a four."
I smiled a bit because while I didn't believe in them, this had to be a sign. Years apart and somehow there were small things tying us together. Four and five. A sign.
A/N: Hey guys! I know I know I've been gone for a long ass time. I am so sorry. School is really speeding up right now but I should be out soon and should have like three weeks outside of that and while I make no promises I will try my best to write more. I have even been working on a few things while I've been gone so don't worry. Also small post to go over something coming later today so please stick around for that. As always, thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Love you all 💚💚💚💚💚💚
Taglist: @southparkynnn @stephs-inluv @weird0o0 @jessiegerl @ringa-starr @bakusquadobsessed @corpseinpink
#south park#south park x reader#fanfic#south park x you#x reader#kyle broflovski#kyle broflovski x reader
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Hi, I see that you ship Mileven, that's really cool! I've also seen that you've made quite a few anti-Byler posts, which is also totally fine. But I have noticed in many of those posts that you seem to believe Bylers don't have substantial evidence for their claims, which is untrue. Byler shippers are actually quite skilled in areas of media literacy and analysis, which is how we've collected so much proof. If you're interested in hearing what legitimate arguments Byler shippers have, I'd suggest checking out this huge list of evidence:
https://www.reddit.com/r/byler/s/RNOLvEEGcR
It currently has 180+ links, so I don't expect you to look at all of them, but even just a handful may equip you to at least argue against Byler better because you will be aware of what we actually believe. :)
Ok I read through some of them and this what I noticed.
^ mike was surprised because up until that point they’ve never said I love you to each other. The entire season he was trying to get the courage to say it, eleven picked up on it.
^ No evidence in mike lying whatsoever. As an audience where supposed to have an outside look and know a character is lying.
With eleven we seen her before mike arrive and after how she lied abt how she was doing.
For will in ep1 eleven states she doesn’t know who will is painting for at all, then in the van will says she does.
For Mike tho there’s nothing that indicates he isn’t interested in eleven. From the fact each season ends with them, they never have broken up/split up on their own terms. And in s4 he puts eleven basically over everything.
^The party didn’t really lose tho. Them losing would’ve been max and eleven dying. We know elevens strength is determined by love instead of hate like 001. If it truly didn’t work bc it was untrue she wouldn’t have been able to break free.
^This is already explained within the show itself. He doesn’t want to overstep bc he feels he’s not good enough for eleven and she’s gonna realize that and break up with him. He feels like he got lucky of finding eleven and she just stuck with Mike bc he found her first. He just doesn’t want to mess his first relationship up. Remember he’s 14.
^This is where I stopped bc this is so much of a reach it’s crazy. Mikes statement in itself says that if he expresses how he feels he thinks eleven will not feel the same. Aka leaving mike after him being at his most vulnerable. Him not outright say he needs her does NOT speak volumes bc of the fact of the entire season we see how much mike wants and needs her. Pretty much every arc mike has had shows how much he cares for and loves eleven. It’s subtext if it’s byler but for mileven if it’s not explicitly said then it’s not there? Very convenient
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Hi it’s the Wally anon! Thank you for answering my question and I wanted to ask for a long request if you’re up for it:
Can you do a Wally x reader who has a secret identity of a supervillain with powers(you can choose the power)? When they are in their disguise, they are loud, bombastic and demanding (like a Disney villain). They don’t hurt anyone but they do often declare the neighbourhood as theirs, demands stuff from the neighbours and ruin major events when they don’t get their way. They even paint on the neighbour stuff to signify that something is theirs. When they are not in their disguise, they are nice, helpful and shy to cover their tracks and no one would guess their true identity. I like the idea of The neighbours talking together about how the villain( you can choose the supervillain name) is such a terrible person and how they plan to get them back while the culprit is helping them bake a pie while they rant. They would never know until the reader falls for Wally. They continue get closer to him and he falls for them as well until after a while, he finds out about their secret( you can choose how he finds out). He then confronts them in their disguised form as they kidnap his friends and he exposes them in secret and says he wouldn’t like to get closer to a bully and they start to go through a redemption arc. All of this is your choice. I’m just giving the form and I want to see it in your writing. I’m excited about it if you ok with taking it on.
No one in the Neighborhood truly understood you. Antagonist as you were, none of them seemed to get that in order to have balance, good needed to be compared to bad. How could you be happy without being sad first? You tried to show them, donned silly outfits and a mask to flock throughout the neighborhood and cause mayhem, truly terrible things that showed them how true happiness felt.
And it worked! Your displays of terror led to the neighborhood coming closer together. Julie and Frank would work together to fix decorations. Poppy and Howdy would remake ruined food. Barnaby and Eddie would call a truce long enough to fetch anything anybody needed. Sally would happily lead the entire gang along. And you? You'd find yourself working with Wally, at the behest of the others.
Seems your feelings weren't as hidden as you thought. But that's okay. None of them suspected you. Why would they? You were what Julie liked to call a shrinking violet. Too much attention had you cowing away from a group activity, no matter how fun. You blushed easily, held hands with everyone, you cried when the villain destroyed your work. You were the last suspect to be on the list.
So how did he figure you out?
Wally was too observant for his own good. His eyes bore into you like black holes, sucking in all the light around them.
You clutched the crumbled paper heart in your hands, ripping it in half.
"You're a bully." Wally said, matter of fact.
"I'm helping the neighborhood." You retorted, ignoring the hollowness in your chest. "Things are too. . . peaceful. Without drama, without a common enemy, you'd start hating one another!"
"No." Wally said with a shake of his head. "We wouldn't. Because we're friends. Friends trust each other." He glanced away, like he couldn't be bothered to look at you. It hurt more than it should. "I trusted you. I thought you trusted me."
You hiked your shoulders up. "The world-"
"The neighborhood loves you." Wally interrupted. He turned away fully now, and you get so mad. But who were you mad at? Him? The world? Yourself? You couldn't tell. "But you don't love the neighborhood, huh?" He walked away, and you stood amidst your destruction, unsatisfied with this result. "Goodnight, neighbor."
You cringed. Guess first name basis was lost.
As you were left alone, your emotions began to rise over you, strong waves ready to drown you in their intensity. The disappointment Wally showed somehow made all of your intentions seem. . . insignificant. You didn't feel justified anymore, even if you knew how things would turn out tomorrow. That is, if Wally didn't tattle on you.
You shook your head.
Maybe. . . maybe you should rethink some things. Maybe the neighborhood was due some peace from villains and drama. And maybe the neighbors, who were all so kind to you, deserved apologies. Sincere ones.
But that could be handled in the morning.
#i changed a few things to fit the flow of writing i hope that's okay#wally darling x reader#welcome home x reader
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Thoughts on AI
I was talking to some people about AI and generally I've been pretty neutral on AI as a tool. I've seen people bring up that it could be used as a good way for disabled people or people who generally aren't good at art to bring their ideas to life and honestly I'm pretty ok with that on principle.
I am pretty firmly against AI being allowed to indiscriminately scrape the work of artists without their input or say so and I'm against Ai being used by the entertainment industry as a replacement for actual artists and writers.
However what I really want to talk about is the use of AI as a tool, assuming it can be used ethically.
I really hate the argument of "It's soulless," or "It's cheating" (used ethically it's just anther medium like photography or collages. Art is not measured by the amount of effort or the tools used. I am really tired of that take) and a particular scaremongering argument I've had directed at myself "It will replace you."
Because I do draw that's the one I get leveled at me the most. That AI will do what I do and do it better so there will be no point to me or what I make. They like to paint artists vs AI as John Henry vs The Machine and I just do not care for it. I think it's reductive to art and to artists to frame the value of art as a matter of effort vs quality of product.
AI cannot make what I make because it's not me. It won't create my characters, it can only output what it's fed. The work it creates may be of better quality, more complex in texture and composition, more precise or more detailed but it can never build my characters because it doesn't know my characters like I do.
I got curious and tried to use an AI image generator to see if I could make art with it and I could not. I have no idea how to input the fucking prompts in a way that makes something worth looking at and I lost the motivation to learn how to do so very quickly. As a creative outlet there was something so joyless about it. I felt like I was doing paperwork or coding and that's the shit I regularly get paid to do at my soul killing day job. I don't want to do it for fun.
Also the intimacy was gone? I didn't feel like I was spending time with my creation and there was no sense of bringing something to life. None of the pleasure of watching a face take shape line by line and filling in the details until my character was looking back at me, imperfect due to the limitations of my skills but still fully realized and in some strange way "alive".
Working with an AI generator felt so tedious. Even if I could learn how to use this tool and do it properly so that I get "better" looking results I don't want to. I feel so disconnected from the end product that I can't envision it ever bringing me any kind of fulfillment to make use of this tool.
But I think, again, assuming it can be used ethically, as just another tool for making art it deserves to exist and be accessible to people who might enjoy using it to be creative. It's not the process or the software that's the issue, it's the way it's being abused and no amount of people trying to scare me with "AI could do it better than you" is going to frighten me away from preferring to draw by hand.
The point of art is not to be good, it's to create, it's to make something and to bring ideas to life. As much as I have my criticisms about AI I feel like a lot of the language used to condemn it presents a narrow view of what makes art "worthy" and it sets a goal post where none should exist.
Everyone should be allowed to create, and they should have access to whatever tools they are comfortable using and when we talk about AI vs Artists we should focus less on the quality and ease of use and more on the dilemma of using other people's work without consent and the potential for mass production of cheap and lazy products for profit from the entertainment industry at the expense of employing writers and artists.
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Hollow Spectators
Relation: Young Justice x platonic! gn! reader
Warnings: Kinda angsty Idk how to describe this, character injury(ok yeah it's angsty), language
Words: 1.0k
Summary: "Everyone wishes they had superpowers but I’d give anything for them to leave me alone.”
A part 2 loosely based off of Dead or Alive or Neither
A/N: I DID IT!!!! I POSTED!!!!! Anyway, I'm really happy about how this turned out! I've even got an idea for a part 3 if anyone is interested. I hope you all enjoy and please consider leaving me some feedback once you're done with the story!
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The worst part was that they would follow him around like lost puppies. Always by his side or a short distance away, like they were afraid they would lose him. Tragically, they were already lost.
The Graysons were a rowdy bunch. It made sense that they’d been a part of the circus, always trying to brush hands with death. Unfortunately I never got to see the family business, though Dicks showed me a few photos here and there. The smile that would paint his face when he talked about his childhood only got brighter as he got older.
He still missed them; can’t imagine he wouldn’t. Though despite his youthful tragedy, he’d grown into quite the gentleman. I wanted him to keep growing. That’s why I couldn’t let them talk to him.
“Please, please, let us talk to our son,” She weeped, drifting closer to my seat at the counter.
It was just Dick and I in the watchtower. Being on watch duty was never a particularly exciting event, but he made it bearable. He’d mostly spend his time cooking or looking through files while I tried to ignore his overbearing parents.
Despite what they think we’ve never been anything more than friends, I’d even go as far to him my brother. He needed an older sibling and I gladly took up the position. We’ve spent a majority of our teen years together, celebrating together, and grieving together. I’d even stayed in the manor a few times. He was the little sunshine I needed in my rather gloomy life.
“You're selfish and shallow. Let us talk to our son,” as Dick passed me a glass of water I thanked him softly, not bothering to look at the hollow spectators. Nodding back he leaned against the counter and we slipped into our usual conversation.
Talking about everything from the weather to his new job with Will. I didn’t even flinch at the hateful comment thrown towards me. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. I soon started to talk about myself and my pursuit of my master's degree. Through the conversation I watched Dick start to bite the inside of his cheek.
That that was a nervous tick of his, one that only happened when he was about to drop a bomb on me.
“You're a monster. You don’t deserve to have the meta gene. You're no hero.`
My concentration on our conversation quickly broke. I knew they were trying to piss me off, and they sure were doing a good job at it. Trying to casually glance at them my eyes hardened. They were standing where Dick was, next to the open cabinet of glassware. “You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to know our son-”
“I’m going to propose to Barba.”
Almost as if I forgot there where there I turned back too look at him.My face widening to a grin, as he nodding back excitedly like a little kid. He was going to marry the love of his life. He was going to be so happy-
Before I could finish my thought, I felt a dense pain consume the side of my face. Following the impact on my head, the shards broke into smaller pieces, respectively knocking me off the stool. Hitting the floor I was too shocked to brace myself for impact, meeting the glass shards that had fallen down just seconds before. A large ground left my mouth.
As soon as my eyes carefully reopened I looked towards the culprit, “You pasty son of a bitch.” I didn’t get another chance to look at them before Dick covered my view. He cradled my neck in his hands and spoke words that I could bother hearing. I was more concerned with the looming desire to sleep, or how the hell his mom was able to throw a vase at me.
***
“We swept the entire building. Every camera, every sensor, even every air vent. We would have seen them if they had come into the Watchtower.”
Groaning awake I found myself surrounded by familiar heroes dressed in black. Dick, or well now, Nightwing, sat on the chair beside me while Batman stood at the foot of my bed. Next to him were Robin and Spoiler as Barbra entered through the door. They continued to theorize about my attacker for the next few minutes while I patiently listened.
After hearing the most obscure of theories I decided to sit up in bed. It was anything but comfortable; I just wanted to look at least a little presentable. Placing a hand on my wrapped forehead I looked to the man himself.
“Did you know who it was who attacked you?” He asked me.
‘Yes. Yes I did. It was Dicks parents who refused to move on while they had the chance and have now grown bitter. Apparently bitter enough to throw a vase at my head. I have no clue how they did that by the way. Did I mention she is snickering behind you Bruce? She is enjoying the hell out of this. Wait sorry, you don’t know yet do you, I CAN SEE DEAD PEOPLE! AND I'M LOSING MY MIND OVER HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT HAVING SOME NOSEY, SELFISH, ANNOYING SON OF A BITCH FOLLOWING ME AROUND-’
“Did you?”
“Batman, can I have a word with you? Alone?”
Their family turned from me to Batman, curiously awaiting his answer. It didn’t take long though before he started pushing them out the medbay door. I let my gaze drop into my lap, not knowing if I was ready to tell him or not, though he beat me to the chase.
“Your meta genes have activated. Haven’t they?” His eyes were cold as he questioned me. To him I was now an unpredictable variable and Bruce doesn't like things he can’t control.
“They’ve always been activated,” I started, “Though they’ve never been useful. Everyone wishes they had superpowers but I’d give anything for them to leave me alone.”
“Who’s them?”
“They’re everywhere. A few of them are in the watchtower as we speak. Though the worst ones always follow my friends around. They’re dead and angry and won’t leave me alone…I just want them to leave me alone.”
A/N: How was the story? Got some feedback? Let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!
#dick grayson x reader#dc x reader#nightwing x reader#young justice#young justice imagines#nightwing#young justic x reader#dc#sorry for the angst#wally west x reader#batfam x reader#batfam
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Hi love! I’m not sure if I requested this here or not (so if I did please ignore this and know I’m terribly sorry for asking again, I have a garbage memory) but if I didn’t, can I request an Eddie x reader fic where they’ve been in an established relationship (maybe like a year or 2). How do you think they would celebrate their anniversary? Like how do you think Eddie would be in particular, cuz I can see that lovable goofball being an anxious mess because he wants to do so much. But I’m interested to see what you think would happen in this sort of scenario, cuz you write Eddie so damn good ;)
Ok ok hear me out on this one cause I can so picture something: and it goes a little like this-
🍁love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you🍁
Eddie yowled in front of you like a startled cat. You’d swear if he could, he’d raise his spiky hackles on end.
Does that thing with his arms, where he goes all shrivelled and squirrely. Mouth wide and shaped like a kidney bean as he shrieks.
Bravely though, batting the stuffed clowns cackling head, that just sprang out the shredded walls at you.
You’re lost wandering deep within the twisted seedy belly of the haunted house maze.
He punched his fist into the soft squish of the dummies head. Tufts of coarse blueberry coloured hair. Bulging chilli red eyes popping out at the pair of you. Grin all macabre on its stupid rubbery painted face.
He hates clowns. Doesn’t even like the one in that Bowie video.
“Fucker.” He hissed as he swiped at it again. Heart racing hummingbird fast in his throat.
Crushed his metal rings into it again, just because. Grits his teeth. He’s on edge.
Why did he agree to this scare jumping, spine chilling fuckery again-
Cause it’s stupid and fun. Get in the Halloween spirit. You’d said.
Then gave him a deep, beautiful kiss that was all toffee apple and pink pink cotton candy. Your tongue furred with sugar and, damn, how he suddenly forgot why he was ever mad. Haunted what? Scared, who?
“I do not like this.” He tells you.
Kept telling you, actually. His eyes go darting around corners. Gaze scanning ahead like you were tiptoeing enemies in a live war-zone.
“You’ve said that already.”
“And you apparently didn’t want to listen. So I’ll say it, once more, with feeling- I DON’T like this.” He repeats. Voice rising to a pitchy squeak.
He jiggles on the spot. Cagey. Jesus H Christ.
“Never again. I promise.” You smooth a hand to his chest and pat him on his Judas Priest shirt. Leaves warmth where you touch him that he’s too scared to enjoy right now.
“I mean what’s so wrong with the fucking bumper cars, honey? They don’t have dead fake mangled things everywhere with stuff popping out the walls- shit.”
He backs away sidewards, whimpers, edges away sudden, the wall next to him is broken wood slats and nails, with stubby zombie hands now poking through. Black rotting nails all split, half eaten flesh all green, yellow dirty bones exposed. Grunts of the undead leak through from the other side. Searching for your living juicy meat.
“I ain’t got any brains for you to eat. Morons. Go swivel.” He defends. It makes you smile.
“You like horror movies, Eddie, I thought you’d find it cool.” You try to offer in your own defence for getting you both in here.
His hand squeezes yours. Tight. Clammy with sweat.
“You can turn a movie off. Princess. You can press pause or take the video out, leave the room. It’s a small screen you can manage. I didn’t say ‘yeah sure, honey, drop me onto the fucking set of Night of the living dead. I don’t mind’.” He snaps quickly in parody. He doesn’t mean it nastily.
Despite everything, you can’t help it. You chuckle. He looks at you with a very specific look in his eyes.
You feel his hands grip for your hips in your pretty dress. He comes up right close behind you. You feel his hair brushing dry at the back of your neck. His lips skate against the crown of your head.
“Oh you’re so in for it if we make it out of here alive.”
“Theres optimism.” You rib at him. Reaching back to cup your hand over his cheekbone.
“Vamonos.” He encourages. Sneaking down and patting your ass softly.
You pass along a section of hallway where the lights blink, maniacal Vincent Price-esque laughs bubble up all around you. Rolling through the maze and snatching at your running heels.
Ghosts in jangling dragging chains with arms outstretched. Apple green eyes glowing under the white sheet. Groans and wails. The lilac purple gothic room full of creepy eyeless dolls, a chirpy lullaby from a demented music box tinkling away.
‘Help’ crudely scrawled on the walls in sticky fingertip blood, hand smears too, in the mouldy white tiles of the crazy surgeons dungeon. Screams pierce. Fake amputated limbs scattered across the operating table. Blood tinged saws and knives.
Now. He goes into his famous Munson defence mode. Scurrying along and keeping you pulled behind him. Arms braced out with you bracketed between them. Pulling you into his back and offering his own front as your shield.
The Dio vested Knight he was, all chivalry and manners, putting himself at risk for love of you. His maiden. His one. Maid Marian to his Robin Hood. Or more likely, as he liked to think of it, Marianne Faithfull to his Mick Jagger. Much cooler.
You looped your fingers through his. Pulling him back to your side.
“Don’t worry. I’ll always protect you, big boy.” You wink at him. Makes his heart squeeze and flash faster when you do that. You lean in and nuzzle a kiss onto his jaw.
He pulls you in closer. Your chest brushing into his. A twitchy sort of frenzy on his face.
“I just want you to know. If we weren’t in this hellscape. I would be making out with you so hard right now.”
“Noted.” You beam. Pulling him along again, shadows roll and flick over a movement down the corridor in your peripheral. You strong arm him away before the chain saw guy with the peeling rubber face and “human skin” mask could catch you.
That split cherry soft of your grin. He’s so soft for it. Lips pink from that watermelon balm you use that he never lets linger for too long. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like the silky taste.
You laugh and shriek when a guy in a skeleton costume, comes bursting cunningly out the slanted shadows of a corner.
“Leaving so soon?” He snarls.
“Eat shit, bonehead.” Eddie fairly screeches, and tugs you along with him. Body blocking you. Reeling you along to, hopefully, the fucking exit of this creepy hell hole.
Halle-fucking-lujah. It’s up ahead on the right. The lovely big green arrows pointing to the exit. Salvation. Freedom.
He yanks on your wrist and you run full speed towards it. Ghoul hands painted blue make one last attempt to rip at your clothes. Eddie bats them away.
Not today fuckers. Me and my lady getting out of here-
It’s definitely a relief when you come to the cooling wash of night air outside. It was stuffy inside. The cramped space choking with the smell of warm tacky plastic, and stale air lining the horror laden walls. The night air is so thick and blue out here you could drink it. Sticky opium of a bruising fall night.
The air is throbbing deep with autumnal scents. Warm bubbling cider. Fried funnel cakes. Buttery caramel popcorn and soft pretzels studded with salt. That definable gooey orange scent that comes gouged out the insides of pumpkins, pitted with seeds.
The wind isn’t threaded with a biting cold yet, but it promises too, as the treacly night drags on. Leaves, the colour of gold and apricot, crunch and snap under your feet.
Your favourite time of year. The best. The slice of the cold that has you reaching for chunky sweaters. Cold knifing rain on grey dour windows and gloomy days. Splashing your boots into autumn puddles mucked with leaves.
Horror movies, carving pumpkins, and baking orange and black sprinkle cookies with Eddie in the trailer.
He always went full tilt overkill and added way way too many sprinkles. More sprinkles than cookie, really. Lacing the place with the scents of sugar and vanilla dough. And home. Sitting out on the porch with a warm cider in your hands chatting to Wayne as he smokes. Laughing at Eddie whining about washing the dishes- getting excited that the cookies were rising too.
Eddie takes a deep breath. Scanning up at the haunted house maze you’d just stumbled through. His hand still very much clutched on yours. He meant what he said. He’d never let go. Eddie keeps his word.
Although the truth be told, he made you promise you wouldn’t let his hand go the second you stepped inside that maze.
You hadn’t let go of this hand for two years. You weren’t planning to start now.
And yes, the full fact of being here again is crashing into your gut. Making you all mushy swooning and sentimental. It was your tradition after all-
“Come on. Handsome. Let’s go. I’ll buy you a corn dog as a reward for being so tough back in there. Protecting me.” You nudge his arm to bring him in.
He steps towards you and curls you into them. Rubbing his arms along your sides. Looping hands around the back of your waist. He doesn’t say anything but he’s definitely smiling down at you. His belly pressed to you. Tilts his head. Pensive look on his face.
You’re touching in so many places. All tangled and wrapped up in leather and denim like you usually are around him.
“What is it?” You ask him. Scanning that maniacal face and those deep puddles of oozing chocolate eyes for an answer.
“It’s been two years. To the exact day.” He says softly. His thumbs smoothing over the backs of your hips.
You smile at his recounting it. “Believe me. Munson. I remember.”
“We were arguing. On top of that very Ferris wheel. Two years ago. When I first asked you out.” He points behind your hip with his finger.
Up towards the huge circular ride studded with yellow and red bulbs all the way around. A huge golden eye of dragging slow metal brushed against the navy sky.
“I was winning the argument by the way.”
“You always do. Cause I’m such a peach. I let you.” He winks. Grins all big. Shiny teeth.
Mainly he loses cause he just skips up to you like a jester, spins you around, and kisses you until you’re smiling again.
“…And it was the fourth time you asked me out. To which I finally relented, and said yes. Only if I can pick the movie and we can get cotton candy afterwards.” You beamed.
“You didn’t tell me you very vehemently hated heights.” He teased.
“I went on that ride for the excuse of being sat next to you for ten minutes, you dope.” You tell him.
It rips a chuckle out that pillowy lovely mouth. You slip your arms around the back of his neck. Sway into him. Narrow your eyes when he laughed.
“It worked. I got to kiss you and I got a date. Even if you did break all the bones in my hand you squeezed it so hard.” He recalled. He had blue knuckles for three weeks. Swollen sore. He couldn’t play guitar for a month.
He drags one curled knuckle over your cheek. Those eyes of yours he loves - the eyes he’s a servant too - are brimming golden, bursting with the fairground lights glimmering all around you. Threaded chilli red in your hair too.
“And you bought me the most huge pink cotton candy I’d ever seen.”
“Shaped like a fucking heart.” He smiled.“You feral little thing. Ate it all in ten minutes.”
“You helped.” You pointed out.
He leaned in and brushed his nose across your cheek. Into the nest of your hair. Kisses your jaw. You chuckled and slipped your arm up his back.
“Kissed most of it off your lips.” He remembers in a soft mumble, with a waggle of those brows. Lips planted against your cheek. Tone dipping naughtily into flirt.
Kissed and kissed until the sugar made him feel sick. Now he knew what the term lovesick meant. His metal and thorn wrapped rocker heart you had cupped safely in your hands. He’d never have it any other way.
You yank your hand into the back of his wild hair. Hold him still as you devour his lips with yours. Taste the Marlboro smoke that lived at a permanent address on his tongue. Pipped with the sweet toffee from the apple you’d both pecked at earlier. He’d kissed and bitten his pieces of apple right out your offered mouth.
Tasty as fuck, he’d said. He hadn’t even meant the apple.
He moans and you feel it shoot and slice to your belly. Gut punch love. His moans- they are better than music.
He cups you and keeps you yanked firm against his front as he kisses you back. Sneaks his tongue into your mouth, and the way it brushes yours makes your knees whirl all useless.
Damn his tongue should be criminal to be that good-
You don’t care that crowds of people are cutting around where you’re making out with your boyfriend. It was a carnival. High schoolers were dating and kissing horny all over the damn place.
What was one more star studded couple with hearts lodged in their eyes?
You cross your arms around the back of his neck. He tips into you. Skims his big warm hands up the backs of your smooth thighs. Resists cupping your ass in public- he should really get a medal for that. C’mon-
When you pull back, he chases after your mouth. Greedy and always so. Not ready for it to be over yet. He’s never ready to stop kissing you.
“Kettle corn. A pink lemonade. And a corn dog. Final offer.” You smile at him. An effective bargaining chip you kept in your pocket. Plying him with food as persuasion.
The way into Eddie Munson’s heart was occasionally via a funky reroute to his stomach.
You’re shameless and it works.
“Sold.” He grins. Enjoying the hell out of the way your tits are crushed to his chest right now.
“…Then the Ferris Wheel, honey.” He smirks with a pure maniacal grin of evil. “You can break my fingers again. I’ll let you.”
“This is you getting your own back for the haunted maze isn’t it.” You wilfully decide. That stubborn jut of your chin. Unimpressed eyes scratching daggers at him.
“My hand hasn’t left yours for two years. Sweet cheeks. Not gonna start now.” He beams.
He loops an arm over your shoulder. Steers you towards the corn dog stand. You tangle your steps alongside his. Slide your arm across his trim waist. His leather arm cold around your shoulder.
“Then after the food and the Ferris wheel. I’m gonna take you back to the van. And do filthy filthy things to you, whilst the firework show bursts across the sky.” The way his lips brush the shell of your ear makes your thighs wobble and shoot with sensation.
“Filthy you say?” You ask with hot blood gathering up in your cheeks. Gold lights bloom in his dark eyes like round petals. Dazzling.
“Yep.” He pops the p.
“Gonna lick you real slow. Make you yelp. Then just gonna slide my tongue right in, far as I can, I’m not gonna be stopping until you melt. Right into my mouth.” He decides with a playful little kiss to your jaw.
Goddamn it this boy knows how to make your pussy throb and clench.
“Is this all part of your grand revenge plan?” You seek.
“No. Baby. Just a damn good way to spend a Friday night with my favourite chick.”
Your heart is all melty. Slipping down the insides of your butter soft ribs. You do so love this man with every single tiny atom of your being.
“I thought your guitar was your favourite chick?” You play.
He grins. Chucked all sweet. “Nah. You feed me. You win hands down babe.”
~
Tagging some Munson babes; @indouloureux @youaremyfamiliar @fujiihime @groupie-love-71 @stiegasaw @thelyingpierrot @munsonquinns @captain-tch @ramona-thorns @starbxcks @morganamoonstone
#i would die for this man#eddie munson#punkwrites#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson x female reader#eddie my beloved#eddie my boy#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#thank you babe#thank you nonny#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson x original character#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff#Halloween fluff#with this fall aesthetic#Eddie x#eddie x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic
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