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anim-ttrpgs · 1 month

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Why I Dislike PbtA Games, and How Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is Their Opposite

@tender-curiosities

It is no secret that I hate PbtA games.

Though due to a recent misunderstanding regarding another post, I’m going to preface this post by saying that this is going to be a very opinionated post and

I do not seriously think that PbtA games are inherently bad, though I may sometimes joke about this.

While I do often question the taste of people who make and play PbtA hacks, I do not think poorly of their moral character.

While I am going to call for PbtA to be used less as a base for games in the future, I’m not saying that the whole system and all games based on it should be destructified. It’s good for what it’s good for, but unless you’re doing that, I really think you should use something else.

Now that that is out of the way, here’s what I have to say about it.

My first experiences with PbtA games were pretty rough. Monster of the Week was not the first, but it was one of the first ‘indie’ TTRPGs I played after having previously played mostly only D&D3.5e and 5e. I really appreciated that the use of 2D6 over a D20 meant that the dice results would be more predictable, and I really liked the various “classes” I was seeing. (At this time, I didn’t really understand that they weren’t really “classes” at all, though I think I can be forgiven for this because many people, even people who like PbtA games, still talk like “classes” and “playbooks” are interchangeable.)

I was very enthusiastic to play, until it came time to start actually “making” a character, and found that I couldn’t “make” a character. I wanted to make a nuanced, three-dimensional PC who was simultaneously stereotype-affirming and stereotype-defying, with a unique backstory and dynamic with the other characters—but when I went to actually fill out the character sheet for basically any “class”, I found that most of the backstory and most of the personality for my character was being set for me by the playbook. It felt like the only thing about the character I really had a say in was their name, and that two PCs of the same playbook would actually turn out to be almost identical characters. At the time, I thought this was very restrictive and very bad design.

Later, now that I understand the design intent behind it, I still think of it as very restrictive, but I think of it as very bad design for me, not inherently bad.

When I play a TTRPG, I want more freedom in who my PC is. That doesn’t mean I want less rules, in fact having more rules can often increase freedom, but that’s a different post. I want to create original, unique characters, that I won’t see anywhere else. If it’s a class-based system, I want that class to barely touch the details of my character’s backstory or personality, so that I can come up with something original and engaging for why and how this “Fighter” fights. This means that two level-1 Fighters, despite having almost the same mechanical abilities, will potentially be very different people.

PbtA games don’t let you do that. In a lot of PbtA games, you’re not playing your own original character, you’re playing someone else’s character, that every other player that has picked up the same playbook before you has played. It’s more like “character select” than “character creation.” I think I could liken it to playing Mass Effect or The Witcher. Every player may pick a few different dialogue choices in those games that change the story, but we’re still all playing Shepherd or Geralt. No one is going to experience a new never-before-seen story in Mass Effect or The Witcher, which is very much a factor of them being video games and not TTRPGs, and therefore limited to the amount of code, writing, and voice-acting that can go into them.

This anonymous asker who sent a message to @thydungeongal seems to feel pretty similarly to me about PbtA games, and @thydungeongal's response is a very good response about how people find this appealing.

I have more respect for PbtA now than I did, but I still don't like it because to me it seems to play so much against what I consider to be the strengths of TTRPGs as a medium, much like how video games like The Last of Us and David Cage games play against the strengths of the medium of video games, and I will never like it. But other people clearly do, so to each their own.

Then another reason I don’t like it is because I think it’s oversaturating the TTRPG space. I’ve referred to PbtA before as “indie D&D5e”, and i do think that’s a reasonable comparison, because in much the same way that you always hear “D&D5e is a system that can do everything”, I think a lot of people seem to be under the impression that the PbtA system is a system that can do anything. It’s kinda the système du jour for indie TTRPGs right now, and many iterations of it make it clear that many designers do not consider how PbtA differs from more traditional TTRPGs, and how it is specialized for different types of TTRPG gameplay. Just like how I feel PbtA isn’t playing to certain important strengths of TTRPGs, I think that many—maybe even most—PbtA hacks don’t play to the strengths of PbtA. But this isn’t really PbtA’s fault, that comes down to any individual indie TTRPG developer on a case-by-case basis. And the cure for that is something I’m always saying: If you are going to be a writer, you have got to read lots of books. If you are going to be a director, you have got to watch lots of movies. If you are going to be a video game developer, you have got to play lots of video games. And if you are going to be a TTRPG designer, you have got to read and play lots of TTRPGs. That and you have to understand that TTRPGs are specialized. Even "agnostic" systems like PbtA are somewhat specialized, and therefore might really not be a great fit for the game you’re trying to make.

That and, to get more subjective again, there’s like an ocean of them, and I don’t even like the ones that are actually good.

Now that I’ve talked about how I don’t like PbtA games, I’m gonna talk about a game I do like: Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. Obviously, I like it because I’m the lead writer for it, but I would also like it even if I wasn’t the lead writer for it, because it’s just my kinda game. Eureka is the opposite of a PbtA game. I wrote it to play to what I feel are the strengths of the TTRPG medium.

Eureka’s character creation uses personality traits as a mechanical element of the character, but it does so in a deliberately freeform way. You build your character’s personality out of a list of traits, so who your character is is very much linked to what your character can do, but we aren’t just handing you a pre-made character.

Eureka is designed to incentivize organic decision-making by the PCs, most often by the mechanics of the game mirroring the world they live in. Every mechanic aims to create situations wherein “what will the PC do next?” is a question whose answer can be predicted - it doesn’t need to be ordained by a playbook.

One of my favorite examples of this is, rather than a “Fear Check” forcing the PC to run away if they fail, or “Run Away from Danger” being a “Move” on their character sheet, Eureka opts for the Composure mechanic. The really short version is that one of the main things that lowers a PC’s Composure is encountering scary stuff, and the lower a PC’s Composure, the more likely they are to fail skill checks, and the more likely they are to fail skill checks, well, the less brave they and their player probably feel about them standing up to this scary monster. So if the PC has low Composure, they are more likely to choose to run away. The lower their Composure, the better idea that will seem.

This system really really shines when it comes to monster PCs in Eureka. Most monsters benefit a lot more from having high Composure, but have fewer ways to restore Composure than mundane PCs. Their main way to restore their Composure is by eating people. The rulebook never says “your monster PC has to eat people”, but more likely than not, they’re going to be organically steered towards that by the game and world itself. Sure, they could decide to be “one of the good ones”, and just never eat people, just like you reading this could decide to stop eating food. You technically could, but when your body starts to fail, how long would you? (This is a big part of the themes of Eureka and what it has to say about crime, disability, mental illness, and evil. People don’t just arbitrarily do bad things, it is often their circumstances that leads them down that path until they see little choice for themselves in that matter, and “harmful” people are still just as deserving of life as people who “aren’t harmful”, but that really deserves its own post.)

It has been said that Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually arrives at much the same end as the PbtA game Monsterhearts, and I actually don’t disagree, but it gets there from an entirely different starting point and direction. The monster PCs in Eureka are very likely to eat people and cause drama, but it won’t be because they have “Eat People and Cause Drama” as a “Move” on their character sheet.

Monsters in Eureka have a lot of abilities, which they can use to solve (and create) problems as the emergent story emerges organically.

(Oh and Eureka is about adult investigators investigating mysteries, and sometimes those investigators are monsters, not about monster kids in high school, to be clear. The same “end” that Eureka and Monsterhearts reach is that of the monsters being prone to cause problems and drama due to the fact that they are monsters, though this isn’t the sole point of Eureka, just one element of it.)

You can pick up the free shareware version of this game from the download link on our website, or the full version for $5 from our Patreon.

And don’t forget, Eureka is fundraising on Kickstarter starting on April 10th, 2024! We need your support there most of all, to make sure we hit our goals and can afford to make the best version of Eureka we can make!

Interested in branching out but can’t get your group to play anything but D&D5e? Join us at the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club, where we nominate, vote on, and play indie TTRPGs, all organized by our team with no strict schedule requirement! Here's the invite link! See you there!

We also have merchandise.

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unnerving-presence · 1 year

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If you're taking requests could you do killers (preferably including Wesker) with an s/o who's very affectionate and likes to lay on their chest? I just want to bury my face in their man titties sometimes LMAO

wesker’s stars skin is my fav and i will cherish it forever his cute lil glasses make me want to kiss him on his stupid little face pls

also i only have the brain capacity to do wesker and pyramid head bc i am not feeling well today. sorry

Albert Wesker:

Contrary to popular belief, he is quite fond of affection. While he generally doesn’t go out looking for it, he is not opposed to it and doesn’t have any problems reciprocating those feelings in his own way. Hugs and kisses? Sure, he knows what to do. Burying your face in his chest? Well, this is both cute and concerning to say the least. Holding his face in your hands and talking to him like he’s a stray dog? Actually, what does he even do at that point?

While Albert gives affection to a lesser degree than you, he tries his best to use his actions to show how he feels, even if he’s better with words. If you’re looking particularly adorable one day and you decide to give him a kiss, he’ll gently caress your cheek with his thumb for a brief moment. Even if you simply want to give him kind words or even a gift, he will not allow you to leave his side for the next hour, opting to gently rest his hand on your waist as he does his work.

Even the slightest of smiles crosses his face when you greet him after a trial and say goodbye to him when you are called for one. It’s quite amusing watching you give him every single type of kiss on all parts of his body before leaving, especially when sometimes all you want to do is bury your face in his chest and attempt to motorboat. He still never understands that..

Wesker understands the concept of being as affectionate as you are, but he himself will not understand how you can give so much of it in a short amount of time. You really have the energy to dish out 15 kisses, 6 hugs, a particularly suggestive way of holding his belt while looking at him with a smile, a titty squeeze, and a face squish like you’re a grandma who hasn’t seen her grandchild in 20 years in just 10 minutes?? He doesn’t see the appeal in doing it, but he will certainly not complain about receiving it. Except for the face squish. Stop it.

Pyramid Head:

Dude barely understands affection so he will not mind you laying on his chest. It’s calming that you’re so close to him.. but why..? Also, why are your hands squeezing his pecs? This is nice and confusing at the same time for him. He’ll get used to it eventually. I think..

Over time Pyramid Head has learned how to properly give affection back to show you that he cares. You give him a hug, he’ll gently rest a hand on your back. You give him a kiss, a content rumble will be heard from him. You tell him how much you love him, he will gently press his head against yours. It’s not a whole lot but he tries to make it evident that he is does somewhat understand and enjoy your loving actions. He still sometimes bonks you on the head when he attempts to give you a makeshift kiss and even ends up making quite a terrifying noise when he tries to let you know that he’s happy. I mean.. he’s got the spirit. Hopefully his way of apologizing (random trinket he found on the ground) will make you forgive him.

After you come back from a trial is his favorite when it comes to you giving affection. You look so relieved to be back with him and it’s quite adorable watching you hug him and tell him about how your day went. During these moments he begins to understand why you want to be so close to him. It’s hard for him to grasp, but he has a feeling that he wants to be close to you, too.. even if that consists of following you around like a lost puppy. He’s trying his best!

Pyramid Head is still trying to understand exactly why he enjoys the things you do and is still often confused as to why you do them. He understands affection to a certain degree, but frankly he will never understand why you enjoy smushing your face into his chest and calling them boobs, nor will he understand why you call him ‘babygirl’.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #albert wesker x reader #pyramid head x reader

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colubrina · 10 months

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what does querying mean

Ah! OK. I forget that normal people don't know what this process entails.

So, if you want to be "trad" published (which basically means the kind of published that gets your book into bookstores) you will probably need a literary agent. Some small presses do not require that writers submit books for consideration through an agent, but pretty much every book you've ever heard of went through both a literary agent and a publisher that requires authors use them. So, how do you get a literary agent? You send a very specialized letter called a 'query letter', often with the first few pages of your novel, for them to read and decide if they want to 'represent' it, which means try to sell it for you in exchange for a 15% commission. The query letter I used for the 6th book I queried was this...

Dear [agent],

NO GOOD WITCHES is a 90,000-word YA speculative that will appeal to readers of A Deadly Education and Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. It’s a ‘girl goes evil and gets shit done while awe-stuck boy holds her purse so she can do the murders’ kind of book with popular tropes including found family, female friendship, dark academia, morally grey characters, power corrupts, and a romance where the boy is bad but the girl is worse (you could save him, I could make him worse; we are not the same).

Seventeen-year-old Calla watches the witch burnings on television along with everyone else in the United States. Witches can move things with their minds. They know what people are thinking. They’re terrifying, and dangerous, and the shows are a nationwide reminder that witches will not be tolerated. Her friends have never suspected Calla is one, and she needs to keep it that way. But when she answers a question before it’s asked in a history class, her future goes up in flames. She can read minds. She’s evil. Game over.

Caught and terrified, Calla is surprised when she isn’t dragged to a pyre, but to a hospital where she’s poked and prodded to find out how powerful she is. Turns out, good witches—compliant witches—don’t get sent to the stake. They get trained in hidden schools and sharpened into weapons. Their ability to manipulate matter powers the electrical plants and their mindreading gets used by the diplomatic corp. Calla doesn’t feel like getting burned alive, so she learns everything she can.

Including how she—and her new witch friends—can burn the system down rather than let powerful men exploit their magic.

By the time she’s done, there won’t be a single good witch left.

I was mentored in both the Pitch Wars and Author Mentor Match programs, and I was previously represented but my agent and I have amicably parted ways and this manuscript has never been on submission. I live in Connecticut with cats, my family, and some unhappy plants. I am not a witch.

Thank you,

Collie

I sent 69 versions of this query out, 2 of which were referrals (meaning a current client of the agent recommended me)

17 times the agent ghosted my query.

43 times the agent rejected at the query stage

7 times the agent requested more materials. (This is about a 10% request rate and is not great but not terrible either.)

2 times the agent ghosted the requested materials

3 times the agent rejected the additional materials

Once the agent offered me what's called a "revise and resubmit" where she sent some detailed edits I could do and then she would reconsider whether she wanted to rep it. I disagreed pretty strenuously with one of her suggestions (she wanted me to cut the romance) and so I didn't pursue it.

The whole process is tedious and unfun and pretty much necessary if you want your book to be in, say, Barnes and Noble. I do not enjoy it. I am going to do it for the seventh time starting this fall. Maybe I'll do a 'querying diary' the way I do a log of what I've written. That would be fun.

Ask me anything about querying. I am a bona fide expert on this.

#querying #500

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eddiernunson · 1 year

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Halloween Party | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader | 18+

Blurb from my long form Eddie x Fem!Reader story Trapped (go check it out if you're in the mood for a long read)

I am really proud of this part of the story so I thought it might deserve to stand by itself.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: It's a threesome with less experienced Eddie. No aftercare, daddy kink, faceriding, praise kink, double penetration, and hooking up under the influence. Eddie and Reader are in an established relationship for about a month at this point.

Halloween in 1985 is on a Friday, lucky fucking seniors. Steve Harrington has some words about this, seeing as his senior year’s Halloween was on a Thursday.

You, Eddie, Nancy, Robin, and the rest of the seniors at Hawkins High spent all week buzzing about the upcoming holiday. Sure, some think Halloween is invented by the candy companies to make more money, but no senior can deny the value of getting absolutely wasted at Steve Harrington’s house. When you’re a young child the very appeal of Halloween comes from the free candy and running amok the neighbourhoods, but to a horny teen in rural Hawkins, Indiana in 1985 the appeal is free alcohol and many rooms to hook up at the Harrington’s. The incentive to have a sickening costume and have genuine excitement for the holiday.

On Monday you and Eddie drive over to the local costume shop to grab your costumes, giggling as Eddie suggests you be a sexy witch, or even worse, a sexy pig. How the hell is that even sexy anyway?

When the two of you go to the front desk with the costumes landing with a soft plop, the front counter girl giving you two a one up as she witnesses the downright irony of the freak of Hawkins High being an angel for Halloween. “Please tell me you are going to Harrington’s party.” She says, entering the prices into her computer.

“Yep.” Eddie says, giving you a look.

“Thank God. I cannot wait to see the Freak dressed in all white as a fucking angel.” She giggles, excitedly placing your costumes in a plastic bag.

Eddie grabs your hand, holding you back from swinging at her for outright insulting your boyfriend. “Not worth it. She means well.” He whispers, then giving her a fake smile and tugging you toward the door.

On Friday during lunch Eddie announces that for one time and one time only he is cancelling Hellfire for Halloween, claiming he doesn’t have any time to go to the party and lead Hellfire.

Of course, he was met with groans of how hypocritical he was and how lame it was to cancel Hellfire when Halloween fell perfectly on a Friday. He didn’t care, smirking at you across the cafeteria as he places his two pointer fingers on his head to mimic a devil. You place your hands together as if you were an angel in response, igniting laughter out of him.

This leads to you standing in front of your mirror tugging on the short yet leathery red dress you were wearing, your fingers rubbing against the bright red nail polish you wore. You self consciously rub your tummy, the dress much lower cut than you had expected. Your hair was teased and curled, sprayed into oblivion as you knew the devil horns was going to get all tangled up in your hair.

The plastic tail that came with the horns occasionally brushed up against your legs, something you weren’t used to. You wore red flats as to not hurt your feet through the night, your eyeshadow a bright red blended out to your brows to high heavens and your lipstick glossy and ruby red. This was as good as it was gonna get.

You went downstairs, your mom offering you a ride, so you didn’t drive, Eddie getting a ride from Wayne for the same reasons. “You look amazing!” Your mom shouts, causing you to shy look at your feet as she looks at you in a new way.

“Is Eddie going as a devil, too?” She asks as she grabs the keys. The two of you walk to her small car, a car she bought for herself when she was no longer driving you around anymore in a big van.

“No,” you say, keeping your knees awkwardly together as you get into the car. “He’s an angel.”

“Funny.” Your mom deadpans, rolling her eyes as she rolls out of the driveway.

You pull up to the party a half hour late, basically on time for Steve’s parties. You saw a few groups of people making their way up the driveway of Steve’s massive house, the sight of it feeling almost alien as you’re now used to the quiet of his parents out of town and you, Robin and Steve hanging out in his living room.

She drops you off, making a half a joke about staying safe, but you heard the truth behind it. “Love you!” you call, waddling over to the front door.

You hear the music as soon as you get out of your mom’s car, hearing the loud voice of Whitney Houston asking to dance with somebody. Reaching the wide-open front door, the heat of the house already radiating from the dancing teens hitting you as you walk in. You almost regretted wearing faux leather now. You scanned the room, seeing Steve and Robin in the corner. Steve was dressed as Peter Pan and Robin as Tinkerbelle. Her outfit wasn’t nearly as revealing as the blonde cartoon character, but it was clear from the green shirt and cargo pants with the fairy wings on her back and glitter on her face she was Tinkerbelle. “Hi Peter!” you say, shouting over the music.

“Oh, shit!” Steve says as he gives you a one-up at your red and daring get up. “You look.” He gives a look to Robin and manages to gain the breath you took away from him. “I think Eddie will cream his pants on the spot let’s just say that.”

“I hope not I want to wait until we get to one of the rooms.” You joke and turn towards the counter where red solo cups are sitting pretty waiting for new consumers.

Steve leans back in exasperation, mad at his dick for betraying him. “Okay, well I’m gonna have a drink, did you want something?”

“Hell no,” you mutter, grabbing your own. “Last time you mixed me a vodka soda you nearly made me tipsy one drink in.”

“That was the goal!” He yells, laughing as the vodka glugs into his cup.

“So, where’s Wendy?” you ask, yet understanding the irony of their costumes and why Robin isn’t dressed as Wendy for the night.

“Oh, she’s my date!” Steve says, nodding his chin over towards a girl in brown hair dressed in a blue pajama dress that was only down to her thighs. “Brittany, you’ll meet her later! You’re gonna love her, I promise!”

“Can’t wait!” you say unenthusiastically, already having met many of Steve’s latest dates. You mix your own drink, knowing Steve will let you drink any of his alcohol.

You dance absentmindedly to Thriller, your eyes rolling as it plays at a Halloween party. By the time song #6 plays and your inhibitions are somewhat already gone, you’ve gone through two drinks and can feel some the affects of alcohol affecting your system.

You have your hand with the drink up in the air, side stepping to the beat now in a circle with Steve, Robin, and Brittany, and suddenly you feel an arm snake around your midriff. “Hi, my sexy little devil,” you hear low in your left ear.

You have half a mind to tell the mysterious man to back off because you had an awesome boyfriend who would kick his ass, but your train of thought was stopped in its tracks when it was him. Eddie was there, two arms laid on your shoulders, and you take in Eddie dressed in all his angelic glory. He had his hair slicked back into a ponytail, a white button-down shirt and a white pair of paints with a halo head band resting on his gelled up hair and a small pair of angel wings on his back. To top it off, he had some glitter on his cheek bones, and the only thing you see that’s normal about your boyfriend is his rings. Thank God he’s still wearing the rings.

“Jesus, who are you and where is Eddie Munson?” you ask, your words partially slurred. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Eddie laughs at your slurred speech, astounded you were already so intoxicated. “One of my bandmembers LARPS in his free time, he has way more glitter than you could imagine.”

Your face is awestruck to this information. “That’s very resourceful of you.”

Eddie laughs, walking over to the table to pour himself a drink. He looks up anxiously, wondering if any of his classmates were giving him dirty looks. So far, so good. He pours too much baileys into a coke, wanting to get on your level, so to speak. “Well, give me ten minutes, ok? I need to catch up.”

“Ten minutes? Good luck with that.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you are dancing in the living room, both of your cares gone. He was right. It only took ten minutes for him to get as drunk as you were, but by the time he got there, you were another drink and a half in, your drunk competitiveness shining through. He has his arm wrapped around you and if he was sober enough to care he would blanch at the pop songs that seem to be exclusively playing through the speakers, but he only knew the beat and his thigh placed between your legs as you two grinded.

You can’t tell how much time goes by as you’re lost in the beat with him, noting the sweat gathering on his forehead and the light pain burning into your thighs as you stay half bent for a good while. You were lost with his hands placed on your ass when you hear from someone, loud and clear. “Why is the freak here? When Harrington said the rules, I didn’t think he was being serious! God, I don’t want to see that shit!”

Eddie, in his drunken haze is pulled out of the intoxication that was your body against his and scans the room quickly to find Steve going through his tapes. “Harrington!” He calls, his arm leaving your waist as he stumbles across. “Harrington!”

By this time, Steve Harrington is also drunk and, in his haze, had to keep his eyes from roaming to you across the room desperately grinding on what he wished was thigh, but was Eddie’s. Shit was getting complicated, and he was not a big fan. “Uh yeah?”

“You said point, ya? Point and they’re gone?” Eddie clarifies before making a fool out of himself.

It takes a moment for Steve to comprehend what Eddie was going on about. “Uh, yeah. Point, and they’re banned.”

Eddie points dramatically across the room to where one of the jocks was chatting up a girl dressed as a bunny (predictable) and raises is eyebrows at Steve.

“Oh! Shit, Okay gotchya.” Steve walks as confidently as he can over to the jock, even in his own drunken and confused haze, and grabs the over towering jock by the shoulder. “Get out.”

“Wait, what?” He asks, turning to face Steve.

“Get. Out.” Steve says, pointing to the door. “You knew the rules. You even so much as look at Munson wrong, you’re out. Out!”

“You were serious about that shit? He and his little slut girlfriend were grinding all over the room, you expect me to not say anything about that? Bullshit!” He yells, making a big scene.

Eddie saw red as soon as he heard him call you a slut. Yeah, he calls you a slut all the time, but that was for his enjoyment alone. He runs across the room to him, and his hands are in fists ready to throw punches.

“Hey!” Steve yells, pushing him lightly off the bewildered jock. “Let me handle this.” He looks back to the jock and holds back his own want to pummel him into the dirt. Steve doesn’t have good track record with picking fights, but each time it was for a noble cause, and this sounds noble enough. “Get the fuck out of my house. No more hook up parties for Bongo.”

Steve has a few other friends of his that were his age help him yank the asshole outside, now much easier with the help.

“This is almost too much power.” Eddie mumbles as people are no longer shooting him anything remotely close to a dirty look. He glances to you, and your arms are now across your stomach, and you’re hunched over. “Hey.” He mutters, too drunk for this he decides as he tries to calm you down.

“Hi.” You whisper, the gloss of a tear forming in your eye. “Does everyone think I’m a slut? Is that why you call me one?”

Fuck. Eddie shushes you, pulling you into his arms. “No, no. He’s an asshole with asshole opinions. I call you one because I thought it would be sexy and fun. I only call you one when we’re both enjoying each other, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay. Can we get more drinks?” You ask, missing the buzz you lost from the adrenaline of watching your boyfriend defend your honour.

“Sure, baby.”

The two of you down two more drinks each, ending up on Steve’s couch as Steve is telling a story about something that happened in the pool, he worked at with a shithead kid. “I’m telling you! This kid lived to make trouble. I had to beg our manager to let me ban him, but every time Don would come for evidence the kid was a fucking, well Eddie I guess.”

You and Eddie giggle as well as the ones who were listening to him. Logically, there’s no possibility you should be able to hear him with the music still bursting through the speakers. Yet, there were about nine or ten of you gathered on the couch and you could hear every word. You were sat on Eddie’s lap, stroking his hair, however gelled and gross it may feel while you were sober. You didn’t care.

Steve wrapped up his story, talking quietly to Brittany and Robin. You barely had spoken to Brittany all night like Steve had promised, but from the “eeugh” looks he kept giving Robin about what she would say you guessed you wouldn’t be getting to know her anyways.

You looked at your boyfriend, and noticed his brown eyes were turned downward at your red (smeared) lips. “See something you like, handsome?” you ask, voice low and feeling his boner underneath your thighs.

“I see a lot of what I like.” He mutters, and you swear in your drunken haze he is slowly getting closer to you. You feel your eyes close, and Eddie’s lips are on yours, his tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth, feeling electric as you move to straddle him. He kisses you with fervour, his hands finding their way frantically into your wild and teased hair.

Your hips grinds itself to his, and you hear a wolf whistle coming from a couch cushion right next to you. You look over, your red lips even more smeared and Eddie has his own share of it on his.

“Get a room.” Robin states, still only lightly buzzed and sipping out of her red solo cup. “Seriously I don’t wanna see this. Go.”

You look at Eddie, his lipstick-covered lips barely even registering to you, you’re too fucking horny and drunk for that to even register. You grab his hand and tug him up the stairs. You knock on three doors, each one of them someone yells out it’s occupied. Finally, you get to the one at the end of the hall, and no one answers when you knock.

You hesitate to open, scared to see some live action porn but Eddie opens it for you, impatient, and wanting your devil costume on the floor. He shuts it behind you and thank God there’s a fucking bed in here. The lack of light is providing a vision impairment, but you didn’t really care, your lips latched onto his like the answer to world peace is in the back of his throat. You frantically start unbuttoning his shirt, your intoxicated body stumbling through each one. You’re on the last button when Eddie rips off his shirt, the button rolling across the hardwood floor. He reaches behind you, unzipping your dress and letting it slide down your waist.

You step out of your costume, the tail going with it. You reach up to take out your horns but Eddie places his hand on your wrist, stopping you. “Wear them. They’re hot.” Eddie mumbles, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

“Does that mean you wear your halo?” You ask, giggling as you look at the sparkly overpriced pipe cleaner.

“How am I supposed to eat you out with this on?” He asks, pushing you to guide you towards the four postered bed. He hanks the halo off, tossing it with the busted button.

You lie down on the bed, your legs spread showing the lacy black panties you wore and the strapless bra for the strappy dress. You shivered in anticipation to what he was going to do to you, your chest heaving.

“Roll onto your stomach, baby.” He mutters. When you silently listen to his command, he slaps your ass lightly, causing a moan to escape your mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He slips your panties down your ass, and you hear his belt buckle and fly being zipped down. “Daddy is gonna fuck you for a little bit then I will make you cum, okay baby?”

Eddie slips into you, bottoming out with no time to let you adjust. “Holy shit, baby, you are so wet.” He mutters, already starting to thrust into you slowly. “Are you all revved up, my little devil?”

You nod, but Eddie barely sees as your face is pushed into the pillow, headbanded devil horns slightly too rough against your scalp. “C’mon tell me with your words.”

You lift your head, forced to use your hand as support. “Was so horny. You look so fucking hot. I love your cock, daddy, feels so good.”

“Love your fucking pussy, baby. So pretty, so tight, so wet, just for daddy. Fucking love my little slut’s pussy.” In Eddie’s mind he cannot stop thinking how much your wet heat just feels so good around him. He needs a taste, wanted to be drunk on your greedy little cunt. Without warning you his cock leaves your pussy, and he gives you a big lap down your pussy lips. “Holy shit, baby. Your pussy tastes,” he pauses, giving another lick to your wet slick. “Fucking good. Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue contacting your pussy sends pleasure waves down your body, despite your intoxication. You lean back into the pillow, moaning loudly so no one in the next rooms can hear you. Even with the pillow muffling you, he can hear you loud and clear, digging into it like a man starved. He wraps his ring-clad fingers around your thighs, grabbing onto them harshly.

As Eddie gets into your pussy and takes in every drop he can possibly swallow and you hike your ass up more and moan louder into the pillow, either of you hear a heavy set of footsteps walking down the hall and closer and closer to the unlocked door.

If you did hear what was transpiring, you would hear Steve Harrington knocking on his bedroom door, wondering if any of the couples had made his way into the room. He heard faint moaning, but he was too drunk to understand it had come from the other side of his door. He opened the door, seeing no light on and no other reason to think anyone was in there and walked on in, only to stop dead in his tracks. The sight of you bent over the very pillows his head was leant on thinking about you with his cock in his hand last week caused his already slight hard on to get harder, the sight of Eddie eating you out doing nothing to help his situation. He knew he had a light attraction to Eddie, something he had put off for years, but the sight of the two of you so emersed in it not to even notice him had him gawking in his doorway.

Eddie places his thumb on your clit, slowly rotating it on your swollen bud and Steve sees as your thighs tense up immensely and you can barely support yourself on your knees. Eddie moves his head back to rub his two fingers on your folds, watching as they caused more slick to gush out of your folds. Eddie is so entranced by his fingers against your pussy, he suddenly notices the light from the hallway and a very specific shadow in the doorway.

He looks back over his shoulder to see Steve Harrington, slips his two fingers into you, your ass hiking up in response. “Oh shit!” You yell into the pillow are oblivious to any light cascaded onto the bed.

“Hi.” Eddie mutters, fucking his fingers into you and shooting a darkened glance to Steve, who was unashamedly watching his limber fingers moving. He looks down to where Steve is watching and smirks. “She’s pretty, ain’t she?” he asks, licking his lips as he switches his glance between the two of you.

“Y-yeah.” Steve mutters, his hand moving to palm himself in his green Peter Pan costume. “Very pretty.”

“You wanna taste?” Eddie asks, somewhere a sober version of him asking what the fuck he was doing, but his inhibitions already flown away and not coming back until tomorrow.

“U-uh, what?” He asks, making sure he heard Eddie right.

“Her pretty little pussy. You wanna taste?” Eddie says and leans in to give a long stripe of wet up your folds.

“D-daddy feels so good.” You should in the pillow still unaware your pussy was on full display for the man who you’ve been accidentally dreaming about for a week.

“Holy shit.” Steve mumbles. He looks at Eddie and nods his head, and Eddie is suddenly put into action. He moves you easily so you’re on your back, and when you face the light and the man silhouette in front of you, your eyes take a moment to adjust to him.

Suddenly Steve’s presence is known by you, and you want to close your legs in embarrassment despite Eddie still having two of his fingers fucking into you. “Baby.” He says, crawling up your body. “Can Steve have a taste?”

“Wh-what?” you stutter, starting at Steve who was palming himself and staring openly at between your legs. Despite your protests, Eddie feels your pussy gush and become wetter at the sight of Steve, and he understands your body wants what is immoral to have while you are dating him.

“Can Steve taste this nice wet little pussy of yours?” He asks kissing your neck to butter you up. “I felt you get wetter at seeing him look at you. It’s okay if you want it.”

“Yes.” You whisper, afraid he would get mad at you and claim to set you up as a test.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie grabs him and reaches in to kiss Steve harshly on the lips, his tongue colliding with Steve’s as soon as they start kissing, Steve starting to lead him, noting the lack of experience and confidence in kissing someone besides you for the first time. You watch them make out, your fingers latching onto your clit and rubbing it as you Steve and Eddie get lost in each other, Eddie palming Steve as Steve moans loudly.

“C’mon, have a taste.” Eddie mutters, grabbing Steve’s hand and escorting him to sit in-between your legs.

Steve needs no more encouragement. You shiver in anticipation as you had heard the stories of Steve’s expert tongue for the last two years, both from Nancy and the girls he had slept with when he realized nothing else was there for him.

He leans in with more confidence than Eddie, his tongue longer and wider in size. He licks a long stripe up your pussy, licking onto your clit hard, causing a red heat to burst from it and down your thighs. You hike your legs up and around his head, the shaking of your thighs uncontrollable and the moans from your mouth loud and sinful.

Steve’s hand makes it way up your body, latching underneath your bra and grabbing your nipple. “You taste so goddamn good.” He sighs, his hot breath erotic on your puffy pussy lips. “Way better than I even imagined.”

You open your eyes to see Steve’s eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, fully immersed in the taste and feeling of you. You look up to face your boyfriend who was jerking himself off at the sight of you and Steve together. “You have no idea, Stevie. Wait until she squirts all over your fucking face. There’s nothing like it.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” Steve’s other thumb makes its way into your asshole, something Eddie has never even thought to do.

“Oh my god” you squeal, your eyes opening wide in response. “Stevie feels so fucking good.”

Eddie makes his way to one side of the bed, his cock right by your face. “Suck on my cock, princess.”

You reach out, jerking him off and tugging him towards your mouth. Eddie pushes his cock into your mouth, fucking your throat slowly as you can feel a slow heat start to creep from your stomach and through your legs. “Holy shit, that mouth of yours you suck so well.” Eddie mutters, keeping eye contact with Steve lapping up the juices coming out of you faster.

Your hole puckers around Steve’s thumb, it takes time to adjust. He feels your hole start to cling onto it, as if begging Steve’s thumb to creep further in. “Little cunt is very greedy.” Steve comments as he starts to fuck his tongue into your pussy hole.

The raw feeling of Eddie’s cock fucking now relentlessly into your mouth, Steve’s thumb in your ass and his tongue fucking into you became too much to bear. “Oh shit.” You whimper around Eddie’s cock. “I’m close”

“Is she allowed to cum, yet Stevie?” Eddie asks, placing his ring-clad fingers in your hair harshly against your scalp.

“Has she been good?” Steve asks, huffing as he can feel your stomach tighten up and your legs tense.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Eddie mutters, still fucking your throat. You can start to feel tears threaten to fall down your face from the feeling of his cock becoming too much in your mouth and your jaw start to hurt.

“Okay.” Steve mutters, sounding almost bored, the very tone almost hurting your feelings as you’re so fucking overwhelmed by everything they’re giving you. Steve sucks on your clit harshly, the familiar feeling of a heat spreading from your clit, through your stomach and floating into your head and the same little voice tells you to let go. You gush all over Steve’s face, moaning around Eddie’s cock and careful not to bite down on how good it feels.

Steve licks his mouth, not expecting you to squirt on him right from the get-go, but loving the feeling nonetheless. “Holy shit. Ed, you were right. Nothing like it. I’m gonna fuck her now.”

“Tell me how the slut’s pussy feels, Stevie.”

Steve asks Eddie to bring his cock out of your mouth and yanks your ass, so your back is now right on top of your stain you made on Steve’s bed. “Oh, I will.” Steve brings his pants down to his ankles, and you drool at the sight of his cock. It’s bigger than what you were accustomed to with Eddie, but the very image of it made you pray he would put it into your mouth.

Steve lines himself up to your pussy, the slick from your squirting making you wet enough for him to slide right in. Your jaw drops as he enters, Eddie jerking himself off from the sight of it. Steve leans down to finally kiss you, and you attempt to lead him like you’re used to but quickly get scolded into Steve leading you. He expertly uses his tongue on yours, bucking his hips harshly against yours all the while, not stopping to do either one like Eddie might do sometimes.

“Jesus,” you mutter, your mouth hanging open as you can’t concentrate on kissing him.

Steve stops his movements. “Kiss me. You can do it, baby. Keep kissing me.” You do what he says, moans coming from a guttural place in the back of this throat as his holds his hand around your neck.

Eddie comes up beside you after watching this, almost perfectly content in this threesome becoming a twosome with him watching from the corner. “Baby I’m gonna fuck your ass.” You nod at him, letting go of Steve’s kiss and reaching for the familiarity of Eddie’s. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

Steve gets up, knowing Eddie won’t be able to properly fuck you if he’s lying on top of you. You whine at the loss of Steve’s cock, but he barely gives you a chance to even revel in the feeling of it. He grabs you by the hand, yanks you off his bed without any effort. The blanket is torn off as well, now covered in your slick, but he just wanted the light sheets instead of his heavy comforter.

Steve lies down, getting you to crawl on top of him. “Put my cock in your pussy so Eddie can fuck that tight little asshole of yours, baby.” Steve commands, soft and barely showing that any of this is affecting him like you and Eddie both desperately are. You do as he asks, lying so your ass is perfectly in perfect aim for Eddie to slide into and sinking down onto his cock. “That’s a good girl. Now Ed slide into that little asshole of hers.”

“Does she need lube or anything?” Eddie asks, watching and jerking himself absentmindedly as he watches you get fucked from below. He gets to fuck you every day if he wants to, but he never gets to see you get fucked quite like this.

“Oh my god you really were a virgin.” Steve says, hearing your moans loud in his ear as he continues to fuck you. “No just spit on that little hole and ram into her, she’ll adjust fine.”

Eddie listens, licking your asshole for a few moments, spitting generously onto it. You can feel him lining his nice cock to your second hole, and you close your eyes, excited to be filled by both men who have been in your fantasies in recent years. Eddie barely gives you time to register the head of his cock in your hole when he continues in, and you feel so full.

Full is a word, but it barely describes it. You are so filled to the brim that your body shakes and convulses, Steve stopping his movements to let you adjust to the feeling. “How’s that feel, baby?” Steve asks, looking in awe at your pleasure-stricken face. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You lean onto Steve’s body, his nipples peaked as one of your pinkies tugs onto it with out realizing. “Baby is so cock drunk she can’t even speak.” Steve comments, looking over your shoulder to see Eddie.

“Oh, she’s not that dumbed out on cock is she, Stevie?” Eddie asks, waiting until Steve tells him to start fucking you.

Steve chuckles, leaning in to kiss your neck with little kitten licks in between each bite. “Let’s find out.”

Steve’s hips start moving and Eddie takes it as the go ahead. If you thought you felt full before, it was nothing compared to the two men’s cock moving in sync, your mouth opening involuntarily at the overwhelming, all intoxicating pleasure they were thrusting into you. Every part of your body, every inch of your skin was covered in fire. You couldn’t even tell if you were close again or not because your body has never felt this good. Steve notices the slack jaw of yours, and places who of his fingers inside your mouth. “Aw, poor baby.”

“How’s her pussy, Stevie?” Eddie’s gruff voice asks, and by the look of his mixed-up face and stuttering thrusts Steve can tell he’s already close.

“Fucking fantastic. You should see her face. All fucked out. Never seen such a pretty little face.” He compliments you, bringing his spare hand to frame your face, tangling his hands in your teased hair. “Fuck you looked so fucking hot tonight. Whoever told you to dress like a devil I wanna fucking kiss them”

“Already did, Stevie.” Eddie chuckles, doing his best to hold back from cumming but doing a terrible job on his face.

“Eddie, you need to cum, baby?” Steve asks, absentmindedly continuing to fuck you.

“Mmhm.” He mutters, his hands fierce on your hips and even you can tell he’s really holding back in your dazed out brain.

“Then cum.” Eddie stops resisting, and shoots his cum right into your ass, a heavier load than you have ever received from him. Steve stops thrusting too, kissing you as Eddie finishes shooting his gooey white substance into you. “How is our fucked out little baby?” Steve asks, looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“Mm. Good.” You mumble kissing Steve back with more energy and enthusiasm than you knew you had in you still.

Steve sits up, silently commanding Eddie to leave your ass as he takes his own cock out of your pussy. “I’m going to eat you out and Eddie is going to suck on my cock,” he looks at Eddie, “and swallow every drop. Understood?”

“Yes.” Eddie says, already somewhat hard from being ordered like this.

“Good boy.” Steve moves the three of you effortlessly so he’s lying down on the bed, you’re sitting on his face, and Eddie is sucking his cock. You sit on Steve so you’re facing your boyfriend, watching as he’s jerking Steve off and about to suck a cock for the first time. “Has Eddie ever sucked cock before?” Steve asks, noting the hesitation.

“No.” You answer for him, watching as the same wonder you had staring at Eddie’s cock is on Eddie’s face.

“Baby, be a good girl and teach him, will ya?” Steve asks, latching his tongue onto your pussy lips without a second’s hesitation.

“O-okay,” you whimper, the feeling of Steve’s expert tongue already sending you fast over the edge. You take a moment to reel the heat spreading from your sensitive pussy, not sent over the edge from the double penetration but almost too fucked out to understand if you were.

“Teach him.” Steve barks out, running out of patience.

“Sorry.” You whimper. You look to your boyfriend, who looks up at you for all the answers. You sucked his cock well after all. “Okay. Take-ah” you take a moment to whimper as Steve rewards you by sucking onto your clit. “Take his cock into your mouth but be careful of your teeth. I don’t bite, but I do use my teeth to suck on your cock harder.” You whimper, Steve now building a slow rhythm as a reward. “Fuck, Steve,”

Eddie tentatively starts sucking on Steve’s cock, his cheeks hollowing out, copying something he saw from you, and understanding what you meant by not using your teeth to bite but to suck. As soon as he has the feeling of Steve’s big cock in his mouth, he looks to you for more help.

“Bob your head up and down but roll it almost for a really good rhythm.” You teach him more, as the coil starts to form in the pit of your stomach from both the feeling of Steve eating you out unapologetically and watching Eddie work hard on pleasing Steve. Teaching Eddie led to Steve moaning, which lead to a vibration being sent up your pussy. Steve’s hips start to move on their own accord, and you watch as Eddie struggles to regain his rhythm. “Eddie, let him fuck your throat. As soon as your hips start moving, I let you do all the work.”

You leant down to grab onto Eddie’s ponytail, holding on to it to help Steve fuck his throat better. You didn’t expect to be so turned on by it, but Steve could feel the juices leaking out of you, faster as you get closer.

“Fuck, Stevie, I’m close.” You say one hand still on Eddie but your nails clawing into Steve’s chest.

“Wait til I cum, baby. I’m close too.” Steve says, and for the first time since he walked in he sounded like he was enjoying himself.

It was just less than a minute of Steve thrusting into Eddie’s mouth when he finally finishes, giving no warning as his mouth was still on you. “Cum, baby.” He mutters, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps with what felt like an actual snap in your tummy. The orgasm is all consuming, and flutters all around your extended limbs and crosses your eyes. Eddie swallows around Steves cock, and you cum into Steve’s mouth as you watch him, Eddie leaning up and showing you all Steve’s cum in his mouth. You lean in to kiss Eddie, lapping some of Steve’s cum into your mouth, wanting to share the taste of him. Steve bites your thigh to get off his face and you and Eddie look up at him to show him what you’ve been doing.

Steve leans up onto his elbows, laughing in disbelief as he sees the two of your cocked out faces visibly and audibly swallow his cum. “Fuck. That went better than I could’ve expected.” Steve laughs, wiping some sweat off his forehead.

You climb off him, grabbing Eddie’s hand to do the same. “I mean, I pictured it, but never expected it to come true.” You admit, looking around in the dark for your costume.

“I knew you did.” Steve mutters, glad of the confirmation of the lingering touches that’s been occurring more often and more recently. “I fucking knew it.”

“What now?” Eddie asks, and you and Steve look at each other, a mutual agreement.

There was nothing past this. No lingering need for Steve to be your boyfriend and you, his girlfriend. The need and desire the both of you had was purely physical, and now you had it out of your systems. “Honestly, I think we both agree it’s physical.” You admit, hoping Eddie wasn’t ready for a full throuple.

“Okay good. I’m a bit relieved, then.” Eddie admits, also shallow enough to admit for him it was only physical to Steve. “Now I know you’re willing to bat for the other team though.” Eddie laughs.

“Ditto.” Steve retorts, stretching in his bed. “Alright. I’m going back downstairs. I’ll see you both later.” Steve gets back into his costume, fixes his hair and feathered hat in the mirror and gives you both a gentle forehead kiss to trot on downstairs.

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters, looking for the light switch by feeling up the wall in the dark. “That was..”

“Intense.” You mutter, waddling into his arms, still naked.

“Any regrets?” you ask, the memories of your double penetration sharp in your mind and all the over stimulation that came with it.

“God, no. That was sick. Plus, not everyone gets to say within the first dozen times they’ve had sex one of them was a threesome.” Eddie chuckles, now scanning the room so the two of you can get dressed.

“Hate to break it to you, baby, but your hair is so messy.” You tell him, his baby hairs flying away from the jail of the gel on his head.

“Eh. They didn’t think we went up for snacks.” Eddie shrugs, passing you your dress and panties.

You mutter a thanks and the two of you get dressed back into your couple’s costume, and you wonder what he will think of next year, too. Every Halloween, you couldn’t wait until the one where you had your first kid, when Eddie is a middle-aged long-haired metal head and you’re passing out candies with all your teenagers out doing whatever.

It was a scary thought considering how new your relationship was, but it was intense and something you’ve never felt. The longing to be with someone. Forever.

The two of you went downstairs, your red lipstick now entirely gone, some of it on Eddie’s mouth, some on his cock. Some of it was even on Steve’s mouth. As you reached the couch, sitting the same way you were before but without hormones kicking in.

Robin sits next to you two and makes an astute observation as she just left a conversation with Steve for him to let Brittany down gently. “Hey, Eddie. Your lips look just like Steve’s. He has the same red on his-” Robin’s eyes widen and her mouth slaps across her face in astonishment.

“You didn’t!” she says, leaning in not to grab attention. As if it were possible, the party still going strong and the music bumping.

“Sorry Robin,” Eddie shrugs the back of his hand slowly rubbing against your lower back. “I don’t suck dick and tell.”

Robin’s eyes go wide at this, and she runs to go ask Steve the same thing for confirmation. The two of you don’t pay attention to their conversation, too wrapped up in a bubble of falling but not quite in love. You two kiss, the tension of wanting to fuck no longer there. Just, absolute care and affection. You swear you could hear Nancy fake gag as she sits next to you on the couch, but Eddie responds how he usually would.

A white painted middle finger high, not care in the world.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x steve harrington x you #eddie munson x steve harrington x y/n #steve harringon x you #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut

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soft-girl-musings · 8 months

Text

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

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Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation.

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along.

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?” He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.”

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it.

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting.

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance."

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely.

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant.

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks.

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

----------

A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!

#my works #btw formatting this on desktop is making my eyes hurt idk how y'all do it #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley x plus size!reader #jake lockley/plus size!reader #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fluff

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leavesfallensparse · 1 month

Text

Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’. Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.” Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she’d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

#my babies !!!!!!#they're free in the world.#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #writing #matty healy fic

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silversodas · 1 year

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What Happened Between Crimson and Moxxie’s Mom?

The flash back Moxxie had paints an interesting story, and it also gives Crimson a more interesting motive then “because he’s an asshole” the first thing I noticed is that he is definitely jealous of Moxxie

Moxxie can’t cut his stake on his own so Mama cuts it for him

Crimson has this odd tension about him, which could be read as him being annoyed that Moxxie couldn’t cut his own food, but this tension is held inward it’s not projected out to Moxxie, which is why Moxxie doesn’t even notice.

He is glaring at Moxxie’s mom but the tension is still held inward, showing he is conflicted about something.

People have mentioned that him getting angry at her pulling away from this is a sign of aggression and it is, but it’s also interesting that the initiation of the touch was not, it’s almost timid, it’s careful. All this together gives the impression that Crimson is jealous of the affection she shows Moxxie and he wants her to want to give that to him and she turns him down flat.

It’s possible that when dating the relationship was not working out, but then she gets pregnant. It’s often herd that women use pregnancy to tie down a guy, but men can do that too. Did he threaten to take Moxxie? I mean it’s possible, but maybe he didn’t have to. When guys try to keep a girl through pregnancy he doesn’t have to threaten with responsibility, it’s actually easier just to make it more appealing that she won’t have to do it alone and that he’s gonna be there for her and the baby. And if he was already rich that probably made it a much more attractive option then being a single mother in literal Hell.

But unsurprisingly, trying to keep someone who might not even be that into you makes for a vary unhappy marriage.

This is possibility #1 possibility #2 is “I love you, but I never should have had a kid with you”

It’s possible that Moxxie’s Mom is a morally gray person that was perfectly fine with her husband’s work, her being a woman, in crimsons eyes, ment she didn’t have to get her hands dirty. I also think it’s a possibility because she was never afraid of Crimson, hinting at a trust that he wouldn’t hurt her even though he has the power to do so with a snap of his fingers, but that could be because she was trying to stay brave for Moxxie both are plausible. What I am getting at is that having children can change you and your relationship drastically, so it’s possible that they were on the same page and she was still in love with him, until they became parents. Like the shooting range for example

She was fine with Moxxie learning to use a fire arm, what she wasn’t ok with was Crimson teaching Moxxie to kill people.

If you look closely you see Moxxie’s moms silhouette in the background, Crimson is looking to her first before teaching Moxxie. Almost like he is making sure she is watching. And she never felt powerless to do anything, she didn’t hesitate to shove the gun back into crimson’s hands and walk off without a word. So it gives me the impression he is looking for her approval, that he is contributing to Moxxie’s shooting lesson. And him being angry at her taking Moxxie and leaving the shoot range tells me one of two things

1) His Mom has been rebuffing Crimsons attempts to teach Moxxie the family business for years and it’s frustrating him that she wont see it his way already

2) Crimson doesn’t see where being a better person gets you, so it makes perfect sense to make Moxxie like them. And it pisses him off because before Moxxie was born, to her, this was the good life, before she got pregnant she would happily sit in his lap while he talked to her about his day as long as he didn’t bring work home and get blood on her carpet. But NOW she has a moral compass? NOW that life isn’t good enough for our son?

I admit I like possibility #2 because it would be relatable, my brother used to run with people who liked drugs and a little after high school too, and it’s heartbreaking to learn who is actually your friend and who was only your friend in a certain circumstance, like he was just part of the indulgence. I work at a bar and that’s happened to a couple of regulars too. They had more drinking friends then actual friends.

It would also be interesting if she was ok with her life with Crimson, but wanted her son to be better then them, not be like them. And this difference in priority caused her to fall out of love with Crimson, but there is one more thing that makes me think of possibility #2

It’s when his mother is gone and it’s just them now. Crimson is full on hate glaring at Moxxie, I think it’s to show he blames Moxxie for their relationship going bad, to me this glare says “everything was fine until YOU showed up”.

But then again He could just be blaming Moxxie for his relationship issues simply because he can and her loving Moxxie more is also Moxxie’s fault, the alternative is blaming himself and he isn’t about to do that.

And as for Moxxie being born in the Wrath Ring, his parents either 1) didn’t get married till after he was born or 2) she already tried leaving Crimson once because she wanted her baby away from that life style, straight up Kill Bill style but he found her and either threatened her or convinced her to come back by convincing her he was a better financial option for the baby

But it’s just a theory

#helluva boss #helluva moxxie #helluva crimson #helluva boss theory

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velvette-hussle · 2 months

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VELVETTE’S BLACK-CODING & THE HH FANDOM’S RACISM

A lot of y’all (and especially the ones of you that will cry about how ‘not racist’ you are without having actually unpacked any of your racism, and who are more scared of being called racist than actually being racist) are so viscerally against even the mere headcanon— let alone active canonical race-coding of Velvette being black, and I’m so over that shit.

Y’all will fight tooth and nail when a show has one barely purposefully black character — out of an already predominantly white cast of characters & more non-black poc characters than there are black ones (who have speaking roles, most notably) — to deny (black) fans the ability to celebrate and actively acknowledge that character and their race. Especially if y’all can’t ignore that character, or if before you realized they were black/black-coded you liked them.

⚠︎ I wrote this out of pure utter frustration and anger so I’m going to cuss and I sound fairly mean and angry so do with that what you will. ⚠︎

P.S. — This isn’t necessarily meant to be educational; I’m allowed to be angry without having to teach y’all how racism works while crying over my phone (because, yes, I am an emotional bitch) for free.

Some of you people are truly insidious. We get half of a bone tossed to us (because Velvette’s demon form is still dark grey which gives the audience a lot of plausible deniability when it comes to not accepting that she’s black) and everyone is still trying to snatch that half a bone out of our mouths despite the fact that y’all are eating good. It would be embarrassing if you bitches had any shame about your anti-blackness, but y’all don’t.

Then all the little pussyfooting-ass bench sitters can sit around talking about how they don’t care either way, they just don’t think everything should be focused on race (which is what y’all always say, but if people didn’t care ‘too much’ about rights and how a lack there of for minority groups seeps into everything including our entertainment media most of you wouldn’t have the rights or entertainment you do now - these things are systematic so you have to attack and address the racism everywhere, not just in the areas y’all find it more appropriate/appealing to be hit with that reality in) - but fuck it if real people are actively being exposed to the fandom’s racism though, right? Or how they just prefer Velvette white (while explaining away her afro as her just having been a curly haired ginger in her human life so that’s not actual evidence towards her being black-coded or over-emphasizing that she’s WHITE British as if black British people are some nonexistent group) and they don’t see how that should be labeled as them being racist when it’s “just a preference”; but why does the sheer idea of Velvette being black repulse you in such a way in the first place?

Like everyone will accept Vaggie’s, roughly Valentino’s and even Carmilla’s coding as some form of ethnically Latino because they speak Spanish and because their voice actors are Latino of some sort, but when the same type of evidence gets brought up for Velvette’s black-coding (her VA being a black woman, her hair being in an Afro, the type of British accent she has sounding like it took inspiration from predominantly black British areas - though definitely less so than a character like ATSV!Hobie Brown, and the audition sheet for her character allegedly specifying that she was to be a black woman even) all of a sudden coding doesn’t exist, because y’all said so I guess. It’s the same fans of the show too that will whip out Alastor’s being black biracial to brandish it like a fucking weapon against those who call out Medrano for her racism and misrepresentation/demonization of vodou and voodoo in order to absolve her of any culpability or fault that will then turn around and deny the hell out of Velvette being black, and ain’t that just a bitch? Fandom has a racism problem (and me saying this is NOT new) but despite y’all thinking your radical because of some of the shows you watch and characters you like y’all are so obsessed with keeping the status quo in tact that every time someone points out a fandom’s racism it somehow manages to keep getting swept under the rug every time.

Regardless, Alastor’s alleged page in Medrano’s Pitch Bible says he could be ‘Any Ethnicity’ which was then retroactively changed for poor accountability reasons (but most everyone takes even that retroactive change as gospel and acknowledges that, as he is now, Alastor is biracial), but when Velvette’s alleged page in the Pitch Bible explicitly states that she’s a ‘black woman’ (and that hasn’t been redacted)

now everyone spontaneously doesn’t care about treating Medrano’s words like they’re the word of God and Velvette’s race is in the “eye of the beholder” or some shit. At this point just admit that you guys are racist and can’t stand the idea of having to regularly see, having genuine enjoyment for and interest in, or having an attraction to a black character. Y’all are so transparent in your anti-blackness, but too cowardly to admit it, that it’s almost painful.

Velvette’s coding (especially before you hear her voice, see who her VA is, and see her character’s appearance in s1ep8 where she’s depicted with textured hair) is not great, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that. She’s got the same skin tone color-coding problem as the other black - and only supposedly black - characters where she’s somewhere between a medium to dark grey in lieu of just making her brown skinned (which I get is because she’s a demon, but still), and in general there’s just enough not going on to make her black-coding more explicit that all the ‘I don’t really see her as black’ people can have a field day, and that makes arguing her blackness a necessity because you have to provide a whole bunch of evidence before people concede defeat or call you some backhanded insult that’s almost a slur before blocking you. That’s the reality and it sucks, but I am glad that there is at least things we can point to and that (even though not the best established/depicted) Velvette is supposed to be black.

All this to say, VELVETTE IS A BLACK BRITISH WOMAN (just black-coded or otherwise) and you can certainly argue about it, but I will not be responding; I have better shit to do.🫶🏾

The one thing about fandom and fan spaces - and just any media I consume for joy, period - that has always stayed consistent is the racism (and especially the anti-blackness & misogynoir). I can never escape that shit and I hate you people for it, I really do. Y’all’s favorite phrases to hit black people with are either ‘it’s not that deep’ (which it is, because your fandom preferences and reactions likely channel into how you vote, for instance, and how you regard the real life human beings in front of you’s worth at a given moment; I’ve seen it, because the same way that y’all take in misinformation about irrelevant shit like HH & HB is the same way y’all take misinformation and run with it when we’re discussing real life instances of oppression & discrimination) and that ‘be the ones to give black characters attention/make your own black character & predominantly black media’ bullshit. News flash though, a couple of black people in every fandom cannot cure the levels of systemic racism that’s sunk into you all like a fucking disease, but that so many people are just totally fine repping. If you’re “tired” of hearing black people complain about racism don’t you think black people are tired of feeling it? Of never being able to escape the effects of it? Of dealing with it? We hate this shit (at its most extreme it gets us killed and at it’s tamest it ensures we have less enjoyment & feel less welcomed in a given space), but if we can’t enter a physical or digital space without being hit by racism and anti-blackness then neither will you bitches. Also - because I’m looking back at this & can’t help but edit - I fully understand the desire other black people have to go into entertainment/fandom spaces and not have to think about racism, and so we’ll ignore the racism we do see (and sometimes even push back against its existence & downplay its harm), but ignoring the problem doesn’t fix anything. So while I also feel that desire and the majority of my stuff (especially my posts and creative endeavors) that’s aimed at black people is “escapist” or just not “trauma porn” to some extent, there is a point where I have to deviate and bring the shitty side of reality back into focus. So yeah.

P.S. — I kept saying alleged to the Pitch Bible because I didn’t trace the Bible pages all the way down to some official Vivziepop page, but you certainly can if you want to.

And here’s the full Pitch Bible page if you want it:

It also fucks over the people that want to insist Velvette stay Vox and Valentino’s ‘daughter’ figure despite Velvette’s redesign and characterization in season one of HH— and her age.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading (if you actually read the whole thing that as, but if not then whatever)!🩷

#velvette #hazbin hotel #fandom racism #the vees #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #race coding #hazbin hotel fandom #fandom #hazbin hotel criticism #vivzipop critical #hazbin hotel critical #i speak bitches *mwah*#me•#🩷#unrelated but #❤️

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veala2 · 2 months

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ʟᴜꜰꜰʏ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ.

One Piece Fluff Alphabet: LUFFY.

CW - Luffy being Luffy and a little goofy, nothing serious or demeaning!

A/N - It’s spring break for me! I love spending time with family and friends so I might just be more inactive than I already am. Don’t worry though, Zoro’s is coming soon.

ʟ - ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ?

Let’s be honest here: Luffy is a child himself. His childlike sense of wonder and massive amount of pure energy already leaving him seem much younger than he actually is.

We’ve already seen how Luffy is around children on different occasions. Whether he’s kind and gentle, loving and reassuring, or his same rambunctious self he can relate to a child pretty easily. The young emperor of the sea won’t treat a child like their some whining creature. Rather, he views everybody the same and won’t discriminate no matter who you are.

All in all, he’s fun and friendly with children! And if their his own in the near future, he’ll do everything in his power to support and protect his children.

ᴜ - ᴜɢʟʏ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴀᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ?

We all know some of Luffy’s little habits. He tends to get loud at times where it’s no good. He eats whatever he wants, whenever he wants. But, his worst habit is more like a flaw.

Luffy is a selfish person. Ever since the day he proclaimed to his brothers that he was going to be king of the pirates. He’s been taking what he wanted since the beginning of his journey. Yes, it’s safe to say Monkey D. Luffy is a selfish person. But, he’s not a selfish person for selfish reasons.

He does what he wants, but still helps other people. Kingdoms, countries, islands. It doesn’t matter who it is he will help them. Selfishly. And that’s what makes Luffy so great.

Is it a habit? Honestly, I thought this was better than saying he only takes 1 bath per week.

ꜰ - ꜰɪᴀɴᴄE: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ?

How do they feel about commitment?

Luffy is a go with the flow kind of person. He doesn’t do plans all that well, and can barely keep himself from straying off to the other pay. So, having a ring on his finger that’s meant to stay there until the day he dies is not too appealing to him.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves you like crazy! He’d never even consider cheating on you. But being in a relationship, “tied down” he’d say, is something he would have to get used to.

But- in the end- he’d grow to love the simple ring that’s snug on your fingers. A symbol of the love between you two, and the adventure of life you’ll share together.

ꜰ - ꜰɪɢʜᴛ: ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ?

Luffy is Luffy. He wouldn’t change who he was for a second, even if he was going to die. His emotions are his and he will be who he is without any hesitation.

However… Luffy tends to say and do things when he’s angry that he wouldn’t mean. Remember Water 7? That fight between him and Usopp was powerful. The emotions set free and eventually drove Usopp away.

It might take a while to forgive Luffy. But he really does care about you and regrets what he said in the moment. After he explains himself and proves that he's sorry, I think it’d be pretty to forgive him.

ʏ - ʏᴜᴄᴋ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ?

What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in their partner?

In general, I believe that Luffy wouldn’t like someone who’s afraid and cowardly. Maybe just cowardly, seeing as you can be afraid and still be courageous. Thinking back to multiple examples of him saying he doesn’t like people who act like scaredy cats.

In a partner, I think he wouldn’t like- or would either deter them from him in general- would be not pursuing a dream. Luffy takes pride in his dream that he’s been working towards since he was a boy. And he respects those who have a dream that they’re going for, too. So if his partner won’t follow their heart, he would simply feel disappointed and discouraged with them.

Luffy’s goals are very precious. To both him and his crew. He’s willing to sacrifice everything for your dreams, so why not follow them and achieve what you’ve always wanted?

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy headcanons #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy

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wrecklwj · 1 year

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MXTX Diaspora May 2023 is drawing to a close, so here are some personal reflections

As some of you may know, MXTX Diaspora May was originally started by Frost in 2021 as a means of elevating Chinese diaspora creators in fandom. At the time the event was set up, the climate in fandom was truly a hostile one, with Chinese diaspora creators routinely facing discrimination and marginalization. Adding to that were a slew of vicious hate crimes against Asian diaspora people in real life.

May is AAPI Heritage month in the US, and thus it was chosen as the posting month for the event. In other words, it was a time for us to come together, to heal, and above all, to let our voices be heard.

Since 2021, the scope of MXTX Diaspora May has evolved. Instead of solely focusing on MDZS, we now spotlight fanworks for all of MXTX’s novels. More importantly, MXTX Diaspora May has gone international in welcoming the participation of Chinese diaspora creators from not just the US, but all around the world (like me)!

So, why is MXTX Diaspora May so meaningful to me?

At the time that Frost invited me to be a part of the mod team, I was honestly struggling to find a place in MDZS fandom. I was frequently spoken over, treated as an expendable resource for cultural information, and on the receiving end of comments that contained racist microaggressions (and sometimes, outright aggression). Dealing with these interactions was exhausting, as well as grappling with the constant feeling that I had no real right to be in the English-speaking fandom. I still feel like this, even today — works where I (subconsciously or otherwise) downplay my identity as a member of the Chinese diaspora are always substantially more well-received than works where I do not. In other words, as some commenters (helpfully) pointed out to me, it was exhausting and difficult to get into the stories I told and the viewpoints I presented, especially if they contained too many cultural markers and language code-switches.

Being part of MXTX Diaspora May changed everything for me. Creating and interacting in this space that belonged to us, that was built solely for the purpose of elevating voices like mine — it meant that for once, I could tell the stories I wanted to tell, to the likeminded people I wanted to reach, without needing to downplay, apologize, or make excuses for just how unpalatable they might be.

Personal revelations aside and back to the culture-building aspect — I truly believe that the path to disempowering racist structures in fandom (and by extension, in real life as well) lies in changing the fundamental mindsets and worldviews of people. And to achieve that, we all have to relearn the ways in which we think, feel, and operate. MXTX Diaspora May is built on this very principle — the belief that through giving a platform to marginalized voices and actively encouraging open dialogue and appreciation, we can connect with each other over our shared experiences and gradually influence the perception that others outside our immediate circle have over our culture and language. It is an active, inclusive, and sustainable way of dismantling preconceived notions and habits that allow racism to flourish in fandom.

At the same time, it is also worth acknowledging that there is also a limit to how much power we place in institutions to do the work for us. Sit with the discomfort and the exhaustion, question our preconceived notions, and challenge our hearts — and I am optimistic that as things change at the individual level, the associated structures and systems will naturally follow.

So, where should we start?

There are so many ways we can be a part of the movement to dismantle systemic racism against members of the Chinese diaspora in MXTX fandom. One of the most actionable ways would be to boost and consume works by Chinese diaspora creators. And if we’re reading, listening to, or looking at something that doesn’t immediately appeal to us, and especially if we find ourselves struggling to comprehend or relate — ask ourselves honestly if it is a failing on the part of the creator, or just our own unfamiliarity with the context of the work, and/or implicit biases coming into play. Take our time to realize it for what it is, and then decide from there whether to move on, or move ahead.

MXTX is a Chinese writer, and her works are an extension and reflection of her culture and upbringing. It is impossible to separate her identity and belonging from the stories she writes. It’s exactly the same for us Chinese diaspora creators. Wherever we are in the world, however we were raised, and whatever pieces of ourselves that we choose to share in our works — I hope that we will continue to find our peace, our pride, and our homecoming whenever we do.

Resources

MXTX Diaspora May collection (2023, 2022, 2021)

Danmei Diaspora Creatives collection (showcases work by Chinese diaspora creators across a myriad of danmei fandoms including MXTX; not affiliated with MXTX Diaspora May)

Directory of MDZS fics and podfics by Chinese diaspora writers that are focused on the modern diaspora experience, compiled by G (not affiliated with MXTX Diaspora May)

#MXTX Diaspora May #own voices #Chinese diaspora #danmei fandom thoughts #Racism in fandom

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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A Closer Shave [fic remix]

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict’s wife helps him get clean shaven… requested remix of my fic A Close Shave

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, d/s tones, slightly domme reader, cockwarming, vaginal sex, flirting, teasing, shaving.

Word Count: 1.4k

Author’s Note: Unbetaed. I got a request from @p0tat0nug to remix my fic A Close Shave with cockwarming reader instead. So… here it is. It starts the same, then reuses some content intentionally, but with a twist. I hope you enjoy <3

“Stop that”, you admonish playfully as his hands run heavily down your sides and grasp your hips, pulling you onto the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Then don’t sit on me in such an appealing way, my love,” he smiles crookedly, a clump of shaving cream sliding down his neck at the movement.

“Benedict, are you really trying to distract a woman holding a cutthroat razor?” you raise an eyebrow waving your hand slightly to show the weapon you wield.

“Your offer to shave me was not meant to include you straddling me like this,” he answers drolly.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” you frown, looking at the reclined chair he is in and your surroundings.

“Stand behind my head?” he chuckles as if the answer is obvious.

“But then your face would be upside down, and I wouldn't be able to see under your chin; that’s a stupid idea,” you sniff dismissively.

“Well, I’m quite sure a barber would not be allowed to practice if they tried this technique,” he jests gently, his hands wrapping around your back, running fingers across your spine.

“What a shame for them. It’s really a rather nice seat,” you smirk and lightly gyrate your hips, pressing down on his rapidly hardening cock.

“You are just doing this for sport, aren’t you?” He shakes his head slightly in disapproval but doesn’t exactly look upset about it.

“Maybe,” you singsong, “but hold still, darling. You want to look nice for the ball later, do you not?”

“I want to fuck you more,” he says casually, but with a tone he knows flusters you every time.

“Benedict Bridgerton!!” You exclaim in mock outrage. Then lean down and whisper in his ear, “you had better. I’m not wearing any underwear today.”

His groan is lewd, and his hands flex on your body. “For god's sake, remove this shaving cream at once. We need to go to bed right now,” he asserts, pushing his pelvis up against you so much your feet leave the ground.

“I have a better idea,” you murmur, running your free hand down his front, all the way to the rigid cock framed by the apex of your thighs, squeezing him through the wool until he is staring at you hungrily and panting.

You hold eye contact with a sly smile as you start to pull open the buttons of his trousers.

“What are you…?” he whispers.

“Shhh, husband,” you interject, twisting your mouth into an authoritative pout and raising an eyebrow at him.

He is suddenly quiet and compliant.

You sheath the razor and place it on his chest, using both hands to pull down the front of his trousers.

“Mr Bridgerton, you just never wear underwear, do you?” you chuckle, wrapping a hand around his warm solid cock as he groans loudly but doesn't answer. “Well, all the better for me, I suppose….” you supplement with a teasing lilt as you shuffle your dress around your hips and push up to lower yourself onto him.

You both moan at the sensation, him at the clinging heat and wetness that envelops him, you at the solid searing presence pushing you open—just the right side of painful but so filling as you sink. God, you will never tire of that feeling.

His eyes are closed, and his breathing is heavy as you speak again. “I’m sorry, husband. I will only have sex with freshly shaven men today,” you tempt, “so lay still, and if you let me get this done, maybe I will fuck you.”

His eyes fly open in surprise. “What do you mean? I am inside you right now,” he sounds so endearingly nonplussed.

“Indeed,” you concur, “but I'm not moving until this pretty face here is all stubble-free.”

He makes a little whining noise and flexes under you, but you hush him and pick up the razor you left on his chest, flicking it open under his disbelieving stare.

You wait until his pout relents, and he relaxes back, then start to shave near his left ear. Small, gentle motions as you hear his stubble rasp under the blade, wiping the cream onto the damp rag to your side. You make steady progress, listening to the sound of his breathing, humming softly to yourself to maintain focus, trying desperately not to think about how good he feels rock hard inside you. But after a while, you just can’t resist a little flirtation, a slight tease.

“You are a very handsome man, husband,” you sigh as you watch more of his face being revealed, and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Don’t”, he warns, muffled, trying not to move his lips or face too much as you pass the sharp instrument over the round of his chin.

“What? I just speak the truth,” you shrug, lowering your face right over his. “Can I not tell my husband how attractive I find him? How much he arouses me?” You are goading him now, and just for good measure, you clench around his cock.

His breath is a harsh exhale of hot air across your lips, and there is a loud pained noise from the very back of his throat. “Stop teasing me,” he pleads, looking at you so beseechingly with puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, husband, that’s not a tease,” you chuckle. “A tease would be telling you I sat in the window and touched myself watching you fence with your brothers earlier. So very commanding with your epee.”

He growls and goes to push away the hand that holds the razor, but you block him, holding firm against him. “Nuh uh uh,” you cluck. “You will let me finish, husband. Or I will just climb off and leave you unsatisfied.”

He grips your wrist, breathing heavily, staring up at you, lips parted slightly. “You… you wouldn't?” he stutters.

“I might,” you reply, feeling a little triumphant, and roll your hips, so his tip rubs your hilt.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he moans long, loud, and needy, writhing delightfully under you, hands gripping your waist so tight.

“Mmm, yes,” you smile, “more where that came from if you let me finish.”

“You temptress,” he laments as you bark a harsh laugh.

Realising it’s the only way to end the ordeal, he lays still obediently as you finish the shave, all the while his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows laboriously, waiting patiently for the reward you promised.

"There we go, all done, husband,” you state cheerfully as you wrap a towel around his face. He sighs at the cocooning sensation, but it morphs into a groan as you lift off him slightly and sink back down, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on the heated swell of your breast.

“Are you really going to ride me right here?” his ask is quiet, muffled under the towel before you whip it away.

“Oh yes,” you smile down at him rearranging your legs, so you have better leverage.

“I'm a very, very lucky man,” he murmurs as you start to move in earnest, panting at the sensation of him as you rise and fall.

“And don't you forget it,” you retort with a wink as his other hand land on your hip, encouraging your movements.

You lean in for a passionate kiss that is full of panting breaths and swallowed moans as you speed up, and the chair starts to squeak in protest.

“Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable on the bed?” he mumbles as your lips part ways.

“Perhaps,” you concede.

“Also, I fear we may break this chair if you keep ravishing me like this,” his breath dusting hot on your cheekbone as you giggle. “May I carry you to bed so you can continue there, wife?” his lopsided grin is charming as ever.

You pause in your movements and match his smile, “Yes, husband, you may.”

Grasping your hips, he stands up in one swift, fluid motion, wrapping your legs around him. You feel his heaving chest crushed against yours, his cock still so hot inside you, as he strides towards the bed.

Once he is sat on the edge of the mattress, you push him down so he is lying, his feet dangling off the floor; as you find your angle and proceed to ride him so hard, he begs you not to stop. And you don’t—not until you are both spent and gasping.

An hour later, when Eloise asks Benedict why he has whipped cream on his neck, you realise you missed a cleanup spot. Your smirk at him is priceless.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

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luxxuriantt · 1 year

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Your next sexual encounter

18 + Pick the picture that calls out to you.

Pile one- you are in my inappropriate thoughts Who is this person? This is someone very confident and secure, someone charismatic, bold, self reliant. They are a leader, very good at getting what they want, hard working, risk taker, planner, ahead of the game. High sex appeal,daring, flirty, hot, strong, muscular/athletic, egoistic, a bit possessive. No matter the gender, their dominant energy is masculine The act itself- this will be long awaited, the tension will build over time to a point when it has to happen, it’s bound to happen, it’s killing both of you. One is gonna think about it much and plan a way to happen. They will take the lead and be domineering one. Very interested in your body, the foreplay for them will be like an exploration, their hands and tongue will roam every corner of you , it’s gonna start very sensual, you will feel worshiped in that moment. I see them paying attention to every little move and sound you make, the way you react, it’s gonna please them to make you clench in pleasure under their touch, almost seeing like they are the submissive one, until they see you totally surrendering. After that the dynamic might shift to more raw, rough and kinky. Definitely the type of person to tie you, pull your hair/spank you, use toys on you. For some knives play, bdsm and dirty talking are on the table. Can degrade you, make you cry out their name and beg for it, take complete control over you and use you like you are there for their pleasure only. They will make you feel pain and pleasure in the same time, this may start as love making but it’s gonna turn into fucking your brains out and you won’t expect it. After they are done with you they will give you a moment to pull yourself together, and will by your side, but both of you know it that it is happening again, and that you secretly loved it. Pile two- EAT ME Who is this?-Most likely with your next romantic partner or someone with whom you share an emotional connection. This person seems very…dual, carefree, open, warm, yet wise and abundant and experienced. Very caring, emotional, open minded and eccentric, they remind me of a Taurus mixed with Aquarius lol .They have young energy, clear skin, soft features, cute smile, great hair. The act itself- this feels very..fun, hand shaking, week knees, butterflies in both of your guts. For most of you it can be your first sexual experience, or the first with this person. Giggling while you are making out and pulling the clothing od your bodies, tickling and kisses all over your face. Pinning you against the wall, grabbing you and throwing you on the sofa. Quick energy and teasing from both sides, it’s like a little fun war. Holding your hands above your head and kissing all over your neck. This is love making, it feels fun yet spiritual, committed, i think some where in the act the emotions are gonna start feeling more heavy, from playfulness to heavy passion and panting. There doesn’t seem to one person dominating the other, it feels like two bodies in syncs. It can get sweaty and loud, hot. You will feel cared for, protected and valued. This won’t be one round, it’s gonna be a long ride and multiple orgasms. After that I see you staying together and falling asleep in each others arms, waking up with kisses again, going for breakfast in the morning. So young and so cute. Pile three- you got me fucked up

Who is this person?-this person is someone that you work with, or go to school with, there is a routine or practicality that’s connecting you. This person is most likely a male, they are grounded , hardworking, slow, careful and devoted. This person has intense gaze, and most likely dark features

The act itself- someone here is tired and heart broken, someone just wants comfort. When this starts, you won’t know how it happened, it just did, even when you two connect initially, there will be much confusion. You will be thinking omg why am I doing this, why am i drawn to them, yet you are unbuttoning their shirt and kissing them back. For some there might be drinking involved or other substance that leads to this, or it’s late night and you are both tired and emotional. The chemistry feels like a psychedelic trip, like a dream. There is an unspoken and unclear connection and magnetism between you. This won’t be animalistic sex , rather a soulful band raw experience. It’s gonna be very tender, very slow yet somehow intense. The whole experience feels like healing, if one of you is struggling the sex will be helping to let go, if there is pain and heartbreak, it’s gonna nourish your , or the other person wounds. It’s like releasing of something old and something new emerging in you both. Emotions will run deep and high and it can lead one of you to tears. I see their hands filled with your hair and you digging their nails into their back, and the next moments it’s caressing and gentle kissing. The feeling after the sex, is purification, it’s like a burden being lifted, like a new dawn. Some will sleep peacefully after this lmao. The connection itself feels undecided, you both definitely like each other, and there is a possibility for this to develop into something more, depending on what you want.

Thank you for your attention and much love to you all!

#pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #tarot #intuitive tarot reading #tarot reading

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cherryskyies · 2 years

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What your favorite slasher says about you

includes: rz michael myers, thomas hewitt. hannibal lecter

coming next: og michael myers, bo & vincent sinclair, jason voorhees, the grabber

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3 || pt.2

RZ Michael Myers

Not to start off on a sexual note, but you’re heavy into size difference — both the security it brings and the idea of it being so easy for him to pick you up and manhandle you is like, the best thing ever for you guys.

I think a good amount of you rz michael myer fans are plus size, mainly because I myself am so I see the appeal of a man that is strong enough to lift you with ease, when the average man might have a struggle — even if they don’t, it’s hard to let go of the insecurity and fear that they will, whereas michael has flipped a damn car so no worries there.

You like the dominance, the fact that he could kill you with one hand, but he doesn’t. It makes you feel protected, even though he’s the one you should be protected from.

It’s giving knife play and a choking kink. You’re into the idea of being marked by another, permanent scars left behind as a reminder of them and a hand large enough it covers your entire throat, other hand holding your wrists above your head.

You prefer forced submission.

Something about being stalked everywhere you go is appealing

Probs an air or fire sign

Thomas Hewitt

Again with the size difference — you guys go crazy for a man that can throw you around like a sack of potatoes.

Family is important to you, someone who goes to any length to protect and provide is something you never really had, so you find comfort in those who give what you wish you had.

I’m feeling like there is a breeding kink going on here, the idea of someone loving you so tenderly and selflessly sends you into overdrive — maybe you’re insecure yourself with your own looks, so having someone like Tommy makes you feel better — not because he is ugly by any means, but because he himself knows what it is like to think lesser of yourself for not being able to conform to society's norms of what is desirable.

I feel like your morals clash with the average person. You wouldn’t be too against cannibalism; perhaps you wouldn’t mind trying it if it was consensual or maybe you would try it as a means of survival, much like the Hewitts. Either way, I don’t sense a lot of distaste on the subject of cannibals.

Probs a water sign

Hannibal Lecter

You enjoy the finer things in life, maybe you’re an artist or musician of sorts – might be a slight alcoholic with a preference of wine or champagne.

Similar to Thomas Hewitt fans, you are not against cannibalism, you see it no differently than killing an animal for its meat, just less accepted by society. You’d probably help Hannibal with the designs he does on the dead bodies he doesn’t eat.

Domestic life doesn’t seem like a bad thing to you. Having a loving husband who will stop at no means to keep you safe, Sunday dinners you share with friends and coworkers, the occasional ball or fancy dinner — it’s a dream, really.

Kids are hit or miss with you. Maybe you’d rather be the frequent babysitter or adopt, but you almost prefer your life to be child free so you can do your own thing with no other responsibility – maybe you were the child that “ruined” your parent’s love and do not wish the same thing for yourself, because much like you, a child does not deserve such a burden.

When someone asks you “What is a trait you’d like in a partner?” possessive is a word you use often. You yearn to feel sought after, desired. You want to be worth something to someone, to be held close and whispered sweet nothings to.

Last thing, but I feel like promises have often fallen through; people promise this or that and never go through with it, so you have some major trust issues on top of the obvious daddy issues and love for dilfs.

Probs an earth sign

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inbarfink · 8 months

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Okay, the thing is that I’ve seen some people speculate about the Winter King’s backstory and past assuming, like, that he’s always kinda been Like That. Like, that this version of Simon Petrikov has always been an evil heartless bastard or at least just a little less caring and loving than Mainworld Simon and that’s what led him down the path of the Winter King.

But speaking personally… I think this is a less compelling story as it relates to Simon’s character arc. I think it’s a lot more interesting if the Winter King was indeed ‘once just like’ Mainverse Simon.

That he used to be that selfless, dedicated and loving man - and he still managed to stoop this low. I mean, well, Simon seems to have come to the conclusion that this version of him was just ‘messed up’

and that was mostly part of a trend of him in these last two episodes just kinda going

You know, like, I don’t think that the lesson he should’ve learned from his adventures in Winterworld is just “wow, that one specific alternative version of me sure does suck!”. Farmworld, via its version of Finn, was a reminder for Simon of just how much of a traumatic experience the Curse of the Magic Crown is. Winterworld should’ve reminded him of the torment and indignity he was trapped in and how often he was a danger to himself and others

And of the truly fucked-up and terrible things he was capable of doing due to that torment and desperation of the Curse.

The Winter King is like a Whole New Exciting Way for Simon to lose his identity due to the Magic Crown, preserving his mind and memory by destroying the love and dedication and care that the Magic Crown never quite managed to fully burn away - his actual ‘immutable essence’. And this doesn’t work if the Winter King was always just Intrinsically a significantly different and worse person than Mainworld Simon, y’know?

And remember, we know the Winter King was in full on Ice King mode when he ‘conquered the crown’ (AKA cast that terrible spell to condemn Princess Bubblegum to the same terrible fate he’s been suffering).

And Mainverse Ice King was absolutely capable of trying to perform some fucked-up mind-altering spells of his own.

The only thing is that he was never quite that successful.

The main thing I am still unsure of with my favored reading/interpretation of how Winterworld Simon became the Winter King is…. There’s like, two different mutually-exclusive readings of what happened after the Curse was cast on Peebles and Simon regained his lucidity that are both very appealing to me from a thematic perspective. And I’m really not sure which one I like best.

Because the real issue was never ‘would Ice King be willing to cast such a horrible immoral spell?’, especially as one could easily imagine that whatever lucidity would allow Ice King to understand how his Crown is harming him and devise such a complicated spell would not necessarily extend to enough lucidity to fully understand the consequences of his actions. The issue is Winterworld Simon Petrikov, having regained his clarity of mind, choosing to maintain this spell for a hundred years. There's a reason why that's the thing Mainverse Simon fixated on when he figured out what's going on.

My first thought (and that’s something I went into more detail in a previous post) was this: Ice King’s madness was never wholly separated from Simon’s personality. Like, yeah, it was the Crown’s Magic that drove him so Mad and Sad - but it was also the trauma of losing Betty and surviving through the Mushroom War and feeling forced to abandon his beloved Marceline.

And that Madness was based on Simon’s psyche. Ice King’s loneliness and romantic obsession and Princess-nappings are all based on how much he loves and misses Betty

And now, Princess Bubblegum has been forced into a mirrored recreation of them.

The Candy Queen isn’t suffering from just the Magic Crown’s madness in general - but specifically from how it was shaped by Simon’s heart. And since you can’t actually separate this manifestation of Ice King’s Madness from Simon’s love for Betty - the Winter King ridding himself of one also rid himself of the other.

And since so much of Ice King’s Madness was interwoven into Simon’s psyche and especially his love and his kindness - throwing away all of this Madness into someone else also decimated these aspects of his personality. Princess Bubblegum already paid the ultimate price for Winterworld Simon’s sanity - but in a way he also paid a grave cost as well; becoming an unrecognizably different person he would previously find morally disgusting - even morso than Ice King.

Because the lines between Simon Petrikov and Ice King are always going to be a bit blurry and messy, and because Simon can’t probably live a life totally free of his Madness and Sadness but he’s gonna have to accept it for an actual mostly happy and sane life as someone who is recognizably Simon Petrikov.

Buuuut… that still basically means that casting of that Curse just kinda irrevocably transformed him into a Heartless Bastard. And that’s maybe not as compelling as if this change from kind and dorky Simon Petrikov into Evil Brian David Gilbert was done of his own free will

Hundreds of years of the Magic Crown eating away at his sanity and memories couldn’t truly destroy Simon Petrikov’s ‘immutable essence’. He still missed Betty more than anything even as this longing was twisted into something horrible, and still loved Marceline like a daughter even if he didn’t understand it. The one thing that could truly destroy this love that is so core to Simon’s being is him choosing to become selfish and cruel and uncaring.

And since he was in Full Ice King Mode when he cast the spell… I dunno if I can actually call it a fully-conscious act of cruelty. Deeply fucked up? Yes. But it’s hard to say how much Winterworld Ice King actually understood what he was doing. And while I think it’s much more emotionally compelling if the Winter King started from the same place as our beloved Mainworld Simon. The only difference can’t just be the pure luck that Mainworld Ice King was just never lucid or focused enough to successfully cast a spell that would transform him into an equally terrible person.

For this angle to work, this decision to continue doing the bad thing has to come from a lucid Simon who is still kinda recognizably Simon and still chose to continue perpetuating the Curse Ice King cast on Princess Bubblegum.

This might seem unthinkable, especially considering how obviously disgusted Mainworld Simon was at the Winter King’s actions. But you have to consider just how much Winterworld Simon would be desperate to not be Ice King again, Mainworld Simon was once willing to die then live the rest of eternity as IK. The fact that he’s so willing to throw away his sanity again now is so worrying because it shows just how badly he’s being doing - because at first, Simon was fighting so badly to avoid diving back into this pit of madness. And that Spell must've seen like the only chance he was gonna get.

And, yes, Simon Petrikov is a character full of kindness and love and selflessness - but that never meant he was the sort of Cinnamon Roll incapable of ever hurting anymore and especially not when he’s desperate or lashing out. That’s kinda the fallacy Simon himself fell into when he had that total identity crisis in the second episode. He just couldn’t find a way to join his previous identity as the patient and fatherly man who took care of Marceline

With the fact he made a little girl cry.

But yes, both we the audience and Simon himself have to face the fact that despite possessing such strong fatherly instinct and a desire to help children - Simon can also lash out in his trauma in a very cruel manner that goes against all of his own values.

And by the end of the fourth episode, he was tempted to let himself die - even though that will also utterly destroy a whole universe of sapient beings living in his head. It was brief thanks to Fionna knocking some sense into him and obviously the Literal Suicidal Depression involved was also seriously clouding his judgement. But that is still Simon nearly dooming a whole realm of other people because he was feeling absolutely desperate.

Not to mention him kidnapping someone and forcing him into a terrible experiment for the sake of trying to summon GOLBetty.

A desperate attempt to reconnect with his lost love (and in a way, a missing part of his identity as Betty Grof’s other half). Which I mean, yeah, ‘it’s just Choose Goose’, but also last time GOLB was summoned it nearly fucked up all of Ooo and the only thing GOLBetty could do about that is get herself as far away from Simon as she can. And now Simon is gonna try and summon his Eldritch GF again in the middle of a major population center.

And of course, Winterworld Simon and Mainworld Simon are never going to be fully exactly the same person because ‘Simon Petrikov’ is not some immutable unchanging concept and we know that they’ve had different experiences. It was really so sweet to see Mainverse Simon pay forwards the kindness he’s gotten from his loved ones when he was stuck as the Ice King towards the Candy Queen

But it also reminded me that the Winter King himself never got that sort of kindness and grace in the first place. The Curse was cast one hundred years ago. Back then, Marceline was still avoiding him because she couldn’t stand to see what he had become, Finn and Jake were not his friends on account of neither of them being born yet and… they also directly or indirectly helped him get his entire rest circle of friends.

So Mainworld Simon emerged from an Ice King who was not absolutely free from misery and loneliness… but has also experienced happiness and friends both from people who just loved him for who he was at the moment

And grace and kindness from those concerned for his condition and honestly doing their best to make sure he’s doing his best in his current state and trying to bring out whatever of Simon was left in him.

While Winterworld Simon emerged from Ice King at his worst and his most miserable.

And while the Winter King’s callousness about Betty would kinda always be a worrying testament to how much Simonness he has lost - it is extra disturbing for the viewers and Mainworld Simon because they have seen Betty sacrifice her entire being for his sake. That would just reinforce his own love and dedication to her in his mind… not always in the healthiest of ways.

But the Winter King has experienced nothing of that sort. He was not freed in a self-sacrifice fueled by love that literally defied time itself. Wintdrworld Simon only regained his lucidity because of a deeply fucked up and selfish action he has taken as the Ice King. And as far as he knew, that was his only choice except death or the eternal despair of being the Ice King.

And so maybe Winterworld Simon managed to convince himself that he can stay like this for just one day. Just one day of enjoying both lucidity and Magic and then he’s going to undo it because obviously he knows that it’s terrible what the Ice King did! I mean, yeah, Princess Bubblegum and the rest of the Candy Kingdom are suffering but they’re also going to suffer when the Ice King comes back so it’s really a lateral move for them. For just one day!

And then by the next day, Winterworld Simon finds one more excuse why he can wait until tomorrow to bring everything back to normal. And day by day it becomes just a little bit easier to justify perpetuating something so terrible. Day by day he gives up a little bit more of his morals and his selflessness and his love. Until he finally finds out that he just doesn’t care anymore about being a selfish heartless bastard.

The same way the Magic Crown took his sanity and identity gradually - he’s now so desperate to cling to them that he chose to tear away at what was once the core most parts of himself

Until he became just as unrecognizable.

Both of these ideas are really compelling to me but they’re also kinda opposite. Maybe there’s a way to balance them both in a way that preserves what makes them so interesting for Simon’s character in the first place??

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