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belphies-cowgirl · 9 months

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little things they do for you

word count: 900+

content warning: mentions of body image (if I am missing anything please let me know and I will add it!)

Lucifer

invites you into his study whenever he gets a new record. he prefers listening to it with you in his arms. also, he'll play the piano for you if you ask him.

will praise you for minor or major accomplishments. even if you don't think something deserves praise he gives it to you anyways. he's so proud of his human.

wakes you up gently by rubbing your back or your shoulder. sometimes if you've stayed up late studying or working he peppers your face with gentle kisses (he will drag you out of bed lovingly if he needs to)

Mammon

will hype you up and be your partner in crime. will indulge in creating chaos or doing something stupid with you. you have his full support and he'd do anything for you, even if it results in him getting strung up by Lucifer. he'll happily take the blame and punishments for you.

will let you have control over the radio and heat/ac settings in his car. will let you put your feet up on the dashboard too. he bought a car charger for you in case you forget to bring yours and he'll order for you in the drive-thru (has what you want memorized, but still asks if you want something else)

helps you with chores. does laundry with you and carries your laundry basket (cleans out the lint trap for you too) does the dishes with you, he washes while you dry or vice versa. moves furniture for you while you vacuum (let him woo you by showing off his strength) want to rearrange your room at 3 am? he'll help you.

Levi

if you're into cosplay he'll make outfits for you. he'll make sure it fits perfectly and has some wiggle room for comfort.

will let you sit on his lap and help you get through hard levels or help you find new areas and items. will guide your hand with his while doing so and praise you.

if you're anxious about something he'll try anything to ease some of your anxiety. he'll give your hand reassuring squeezes or talk you through a breathing exercise or simply listen to you talk about what's making you anxious. he'll look up more ways to deal with anxiety and practice them with you.

Satan

texts you quotes from books or poems that remind him of you or when he wants to be romantic. he sometimes takes inspiration from romance novels when planning a date. also surprises you with flowers for no reason.

will help you study or write an essay. teaches you how to color code, organize, find proper resources, and reassures you that you're doing a good job. he'll be patient and adapt his techniques to any learning style you prefer.

will spend hours with you in a bookstore, and carry any books you want to buy. if you like to spend a decent amount of time in certain genre aisles, he'll grab books you can't reach or just be content standing near you while you look through the books.

Asmo

want an outfit that didn't come in your size or was sold out? he'll somehow get it for you or make one for you. need some alterations done? say less. see something you like but you're low on funds? say less.

have any pain, discomfort, or trouble relaxing? he's got heating pads, pain relievers, an aroma diffuser, bath salts, anything you can think of for pain relief or relaxation. he also gives really good massages.

will help you with any insecurities you may have. reassuring words, compliments, and sticky notes on any mirrors to remind you that you're beautiful and are worthy of so much more than you think you deserve. will buy you products that help enhance your natural beauty. he'll also help you take care of yourself with little reminders or help you establish and keep up with a daily routine.

Beel

lets you wear his clothes if you're having one of those days where you just want to hide your body or just want to feel super comfy and smell like him.

he reminds you to eat every day. he understands if it's hard sometimes for you to eat at least 3 meals a day or eat when you're not feeling well. will ask if you'd like some of his food or if he can make you anything. will also let you steal food off his plate.

will support you and keep you motivated if you want to work out. he'll get on the treadmill next to you or go for a walk with you. anything you want to do he'll do it with you. shares his water bottle with you if yours is empty. will make smoothies, protein shakes, or trail mix with you. he'll encourage body positivity, but won't cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable.

Belphie

gives you space and understands if you don't want to take a nap with him or cuddle. will offer to let you borrow one of his blankets or pillows to sleep with instead.

will comfort you if you have nightmares or trouble sleeping. don't feel secure after a nightmare? he'll hold you close or act like a weighted blanket for you.

lets you kick him in your sleep and he'll adapt to any of your sleeping positions. want to sleep like a starfish with one leg up on the wall? that's fine, he'll make room for you and find a different way to cuddle.

✄ ——————————————————————

feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me a message, or an ask <3

please do not use my work as your own!

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dollidot · 2 months

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modern mizu hcs

solely based on my au and my concept of her !! I love my loser babygirl so much

she's REALLY tall. like 6'1 or something. this is sorta canon but I just would like to reinforce it because she is 80% leg and I love her for it.

her love language would be acts of service but she is VERY big on physical touch, bby is touchstarved af

she's a bassist but she also enjoys singing. she doesn't do it often but boy is she good.

adding to the above I also think she does really good at roars eg that one part from blessed be by spiritbox

REALLY likes the snapcube sonic dubs and quotes them regularly

swordfather has many pictures of 12-16 year old mizu in her emo phase and shows them off to anyone who visits home

she really likes tea but absolutely hates coffee.

she absolutely despises buying from big chain companies because she hates the rich and privileged white men who control society

cooks really well but almost never eats

when she does eat, she EATS. she'll go hungry for three days and then eat an entire fridge worth of food in two hours

she has to take supplements for everything imaginable and whoever's cooking has to sneak them into her meal like dogs with pills in peanut butter

she hates dogs. I feel like the only dogs she'd like would be malamutes, huskies, or german shepherds cause girl me too

really loves fish though. she spends all her time at the closest aquarium and everybody there knows her by name

owns SO many button up shirts. yk those multicoloured ones yeah she wears those, hawaiian shirts too

collects vinyls and cassette tapes and owns a walkman

drives a 1979 baby blue impala given to her by swordfather for her 18th birthday

she did the paintjob herself and is very proud

goes on really elaborate rants about sonic lore

collects sonic merch but especially likes merch of shadow, rouge and blaze because they're her favourites

has eyebrow piercings on both brows and snake bites

to add to the above she takes great care with her eyebrows, she shapes them regularly

she does not, however, have any other routine to do with her appearance. she washes her face and calls it a day

when she was about 16 she watched princess mononoke for the first time and has been an AVID studio ghibli fan since

writes poetry every so often, especially when she has feelings for somebody. her poems either sound like fall out boy lyrics or something written by a philosopher (same thing icl)

smells like expensive cologne and smoke from working with vehicles and shit

curses like a sailor. not a minute goes by where she isn't effing and jeffing all over the place

doesn't smoke except when she's REALLY drunk

absolutely hates parties. taigen being a frat boy she gets dragged to tons, in which she drinks herself into a coma and wakes up on akemi's couch the next day surprisingly not hungover

despite being quiet af she has a reputation on campus for being absolutely amazing at arguing with people who've either pissed her off or heard her yelling at taigen (a common occurrence)

got excluded from high school for a week as a sophomore because she tripped taigen down the stairwell and it ended in 5 kids being hurt not including taigen

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #bes #bes mizu #modern au #headcanons go brrrrr #loser mizu my beloved #mizu come home the kids miss you #modern mizu has my heart

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bassettmemes · 10 months

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SWEET SLICE OF LIFE. ↳ for uncomplicated interactions with no bigger picture. there are references to food and alcohol in this meme.

"do you want to grab lunch later in the week? i feel like we haven't hung out enough recently."

"i saw this the other day and thought of you. i hope you like it."

"did you see that new romcom yet? i've heard it was incredible."

"[name] gave me the nicest gift last week for our anniversary. [pronoun] has excellent taste in jewelry."

"i've had the new taylor's version on repeat since it came out and i think it's safe to say that i'm obsessed."

"would it be bad if i were to have accidentally washed an expensive cashmere sweater in hot water?"

"there's a possibility the dishwasher is leaking, and by possibility, i mean that there is a standing inch of water in the kitchen now."

"are brussel sprouts supposed to smell that bad while they're cooking?"

"all i want to do is quit my job and get paid to lay on my couch watching chopped."

"if i'm being honest, i don't want [pronoun] coming back to my apartment after the champagne flute incident of '21."

"i didn't think that class could get any more boring, but today we literally watched paint dry for ten whole minutes."

"we're renovating the kitchen. do you think we'd need a hot water tap on the sink?"

"i've been playing candy crush for three hours. i spent twenty dollars. please take my phone away from me. please."

"i wrote this poem and i really like it, but i was wondering if you'd want to set it to music? cool if you don't, it was just something i was thinking about."

"do you want to go to the beach? i know it's a twelve hour drive, but i want to feel the sand under my feet."

"well, it happened. my ipod from 2005 finally bit the dust. it was a good eighteen years, but i guess it's time to move on."

"it was a mistake. it won't happen again. honestly, i don't see how i could make that mistake again. you don't forget you're at a funeral and open tiktok every other week, you know?"

#sentence prompts #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompt #writing prompts #writing prompt #ask meme #rp meme #meme #rp #rph #rpc

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queer-reader-07 · 3 months

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if you would allow me to be sappy on main for a moment, i think there is something so powerful in choosing to fall in love with the world and with the human story.

i can't speak for everyone, but i know that i went through a period in my life where i was nothing but cynical and nihilistic about the world. i had convinced myself that nothing mattered, that if the world fell apart before my eyes it was what we deserved.

but here's the thing, cynicism isn't sustainable. you are never going to be able to find joy in this world if you convince yourself everything sucks and there's no joy to even be found in the first place.

yeah, sometimes the world does suck. sometimes all i want to do is curl up in a corner and sob because i'm violently scared that my loved ones won't come home safe because they dared to exist as themselves in this world. i cannot put into words the levels of fear i felt for my mom's safety during 2020/2021 when anti-asian hate spiked in the US, i worried everyday that she would not come home because how dare she exist as an asian woman in this country. when anti-trans legislation started picking up steam i was, and still am, scared for the safety of myself and all the trans people i know. the world sucks sometimes, people suck sometimes. but i refuse to let myself give up.

i want to believe in beauty of the world, i want to be able to revel in the fact that we are alive, that i am alive. and that our being alive means that we can create beauty and wonder and joy.

i get to enjoy the art that people create, because oh how special is it that we create art? that i can open my phone and read beautiful words crafted by people oceans and countries away. that i can bask in the beauty of the drawings and paintings people so kindly share with the world. that i can walk into a library and be surrounded by generations of stories that i have the privilege of reading. that i can go to a concert and experience the transcendence of live music.

but i also get to experience the beauty of nature. i get to watch as the clouds turn pink on my early morning drives to school. i get to take photos of the cherry blossoms in the few weeks that they turn pink in the spring. i get to look out my car window on a clear day and see the mountain grace us with her beauty.

i am alive. we are alive. why should we waste this life wallowing in cynical despair?

i have to believe in the world. i have to believe in the human story. i have to hold onto the hope that life is worth living and that things will get better. i am reminded of that hope every time i see art that makes me feel alive, every time i read a book or a poem or a story that makes me feel like being a human is a beautiful thing, every time a song transports me into a new world. i am reminded of that hope every time i talk to my friends and am reminded of why i love them so deeply. i am reminded of that hope every time i learn something new and feel the joy of new beginnings and new experiences wash over me.

i hope. and that is a powerful thing. it is a powerful thing to hope and to love and to believe. to hope for a better world. to love the world. to believe in the world.

a friend told me recently that i love and care for humanity fiercely and gently. and i think that's the root of it all. i don't just love my people, i love people. i love the human story, i believe in the human story, i have hope for our story.

it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you exist within a society that wants to beat you down. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you are the "other" in the social order. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you used to think you were not worthy of those things.

it's hard to love and to hope and to believe. but i have to, for my own survival. i have to allow myself to fall in love with the world. i have to allow myself to believe. i have to allow myself to hope. because for so long i didn't allow myself those things. and i think that is a powerful thing, that i can allow myself those things now.

#this ended up much longer than i'd intended #woops lol #i just love the world and the human story and art #love is powerful #hope is powerful #and don't let anyone tell you otherwise #love #radical hope #radical love #personal #musings on love #not good omens

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thevoidscreams · 2 months

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@kit-williams

Rating: M

Warnings: Bro rubs one out. In the shower no less.

I adore this metaphorical (and in this case literal) wet beast. Thank you for letting me write this I hope I did his justice.

Hot water poured over Tulio's back as he leaned into the back wall of his shower stall. His forehead pressed to his forearm, which in turn was pressed against the wall.

He choked down a little groan of delight as his hand eagerly worked his length. His eyes were shut tight, blocking out any visual distractions as he brought the image of his beloved to mind. The curves of her form, even fully clothed, drove him wild with need. But he could never bring himself to force that need on her. He loved her too much. She was everything to him.

His panting grew steadily as he breathed in lungfulls of steamy air. The frustration of being alone in the shower instead of with her was killing him.

He bit his cheek and silently chided himself. He was an Astartes, not some hormonal teen boy.

Still, his longing to feel his darling's naked skin against his was driving him mad with need.

He moaned her name into the sounds of the shower. Quiet and desperate, as if speaking her name would summon her forth for him.

He knew he could demand her presence, and she would he brought to him. But he needed her to come willingly to come to him with desire in her eyes and need in every breath.

"She will." He assured himself, "Soon she will be mine, fully and completely." His hand picked up speed as he worked himself closer to completion. Lamenting somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this load would be wasted when it would be much better spent in her. Where it could sow life and make her his even more thoroughly.

Tulio bit his lip as he began to spill his seed onto the floor of the shower stall. It's pale off white thickness mixing with the water and washing down the drain.

He stayed there a minute longer, just panting and thinking. He should bring her with him into his chambers tonight. He could read to her from that book of poems she liked.

Reaching for the water, he shut it off. Yes, that would be how he showed his love for her tonight. And soon, he turned to watch the last of his seed slither down into the piping. Indeed, very soon, he would show her all the other ways he loved her.

#warhammer 40k #not my oc #Tulio #astartes x reader #male yandere #yandere astartes

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chrisbitchtree · 8 months

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After a refreshing week back home with family, I felt overcome with the urge to write a sweet Harringrove reunion. I hope you all enjoy!

***

Steve’s practically vibrating with nerves as he stands outside the coffee shop, in a hunter green sweater that Robin says brings out the colour of his eyes, and dark wash jeans that he hope actually highlight his ass as well as he thinks they do when checking himself out in the front hall mirror. Billy always was an ass man. Steve hopes he still is.

Almost four years to the day since he and Billy called it quits, whatever “it” is, as they’d never defined their relationship before deciding a clean break would be best when Billy got in his head that he needed to be back on the west coast, loading up his Camaro and flying out of Hawkins without a glance in the rear view mirror.

Two weeks after Steve and Robin arrive in San Francisco, Robin for post-graduate studies and Steve because what the hell else does he have going on?

A day after Steve looks Billy up, laughing at the formality of William Hargrove printed in the phonebook before placing a call to his home, leaving a rambling message and a request to see the beautiful, freckled blond.

Three hours after Billy returns his call, chatting with Robin for a minute before requesting that she hand “pretty boy” the phone.

Steve scans the street, turning his head left and right, wondering if he’ll even recognize the one that got away all those years ago. Has Billy changed as he became a man, or is he still the same grinning, freckled brute of a boy?

It’s weird, he thinks when he finally spots Billy, how it feels like decades have passed, but also as if it’s been no time at all, since he and Billy were pressed together, mouthing kisses and nonsense onto each other’s sweat slick skin.

There he is, at once exactly the same and completely different, his deep and piercing gaze and the swagger in his hips, tits perky as ever, with more tattoos added to keep the smoking skull company, his shining curls in a messy bun. Steve longs to pull the pink scrunchy from his head and run his fingers through those curls like he used to, on long afternoons spent tangled up in his sheets in each other’s arms.

“Steve,” Billy greets him in a voice deeper than he’s used to, deeper than the one that used to whisper made up love poems to Steve, accrediting them to Byron and Burns, “how the hell are you?”

Steve doesn’t know whether it’s appropriate to make physical contact, to scoop Billy up into a hug the way he’s longed to since the day he watched him drive out of Steve’s life, so he waffles for a moment before Billy makes the decision for him, pulling Steve into his arms, as warm and comforting as ever.

“I’m good, Billy,” Steve replies, fighting back against the lump quickly forming in his throat. As hard as Steve thought this would be, it’s ten times harder. “How are you?”

They spend hours catching up over endless cups of coffee, talking so long that the barista asks them, not so gently, to please leave so the staff can clean up and go home.

They find themselves at the beach after talking their way through the streets, as if beckoned by the salty ocean air. Before they know it, they find themselves caught up to present day and caught in each other’s arms, the scene much the same as they left it, except for the sheets traded for sand that blankets them like Steve’s duvet did back then.

Tears are shed and promises are made to never do something so foolish as split up again, as they fall into Billy’s bed just as the sun rises, deciding together that one day, the silly plans they executed years ago will be a funny anecdote they tell to friends. Weren’t they dumb, their former selves?

Steve can’t tell the future, but he has a good feeling about it, a good feeling about the boy snoring next to him, golden skin shining in the morning sun. Steve’s never going to let him go again, if he has it his way.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove ficlet #chrisbitchtree writes

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demonichikikomori · 7 months

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Basorexia

Epel Felmier x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k+ Tags: Fluff/Epel is a Nerd/Autumn Date

Art is by rutu25twst on Twitter!

I was cleaning out my photos on my PC and I saw I had the definition of 'basorexia' screenshotted from a post. This photo was like, five years old. I included it in 13 Lovely Hauntings because it feels very fall is all. Let's have something sweeter for this lowkey event!~!

SUMMARY:

Epel Felmier does NOT like his accent. So, he purchased a word of the day calendar to help himself learn more 'refined' ways of speaking. He flipped the page to today's word of the day as he prepared for a study session with you at a nearby café. Today's word was: Basorexia. He vowed to use the word on each printed page in a sentence each day, but this is a little embarrassing...

Waking up was sudden, eyes shooting open with adrenaline kicking into full drive. Today was a special day. At least, in Epel’s eyes today was special. His grades were slipping in Ancient Incantations, and thankfully so were yours. With a bit of pleading, he had gotten you to agree to a study date on Saturday. You and him would meet at a small cafe in the village between Night Raven College and Royal Swords Academy. Epel jumped out of bed to yank his phone off of its frayed charger, today was officially Saturday. And he would have the afternoon with you, all to himself.

None of Vil’s bitching. None of Rook’s weird poems. None of the others in your meshed friend group… Just you, him, a thick book of spells tucked into his shoulder bag, and hopefully one of those fancy cheese tarts. Epel rushed around his dorm room filled with motivation to both impress, and charm you. Of course, that would start with his knowledge he had gained from an impressive word calendar he bought from Sam’s shop months ago. Epel had quickly grown uncomfortable with his accent in a dorm like Pomfiore. He thought that by studying words like these, maybe he could learn to talk all fancy like his dormmates! At least, enough to scrape by in a conversation.

Epel lifted the page from yesterday and pinned it in place so he could prepare himself for the newest edition to his vocabulary. Today’s word? Basorexia. To Epel, it sounded like some sort of incurable illness. An uppity sounding word, something Riddle would use when talking down to his underclassmen.

Except the definition left Epel feeling bashful as he read the lines of text below.

Basorexia (noun) - the hunger or craving to kiss someone.

His brows knit together as he began to frown. Usually he used his words in a sentence for school work, or using it on the members of the Magishift team who would be awed by his vocabulary. Using a word like this on you felt different. Would you think he was acting pretentious? Would you become bashful when he admitted its meaning to you? You were dating after all.

No matter what, he had to keep up with his streak of using the word of the day the calendar gave him. The time was now 10 am. He would be meeting you at the cafe in the village at noon. He texted you good morning and told you he was getting ready, asking if you would want to match outfits for your trip today. You responded cheerfully, giving him the idea you had along with your own good morning message.

Epel took a shower while brushing his teeth and washing his face and hair simultaneously. Using his best deodorant and cologne, he dries his hair as he looks among his outfit options for what would be the best choice that fit the theme that you had chosen. His eyes constantly eyed the clock as he would flex in different sweaters to see what made him look the most muscular. As he brushed his hair and pinned away any loose hairs once it had dried. As he politely asked Vil if his outfit looked okay and accepted a few compliments from Rook. And as he called you to let you know he was finally on his way with a heavy shoulder bag filled with books, his notebook, and pens.

As he left the Hall of Mirrors and stepped onto the campus, the wind nipped at his cheeks until they were red on his pale skin. With another glance at the time on his phone, he rushed down the path to the gate to walk into the village below. Wearing an oversized, off-white sweater layered on top of a purple and white flannel that peeked out over the collar, faded blue jeans, thick white socks that had bunched up over his ankles and all white shoes, he felt as though he fit your date fit idea perfectly. The walk didn’t feel long at all as he fidgeted with his sleeves, daydreaming about how to use the new word on you. And how to not make it corny.

Epel’s aqua blue eyes spotted you immediately among the thinning crowd walking along the cafe shops and bookstores. He took in a deep breath as he approached, hoping to quell his anxiety with a soft and slow exhale. He admired your fluffy white sweater and the pale gray flannel button up you wore underneath it. Your baggy, khaki cargo pants and your colorful striped socks that clashed with your white sneakers. Epel was crushing on you a second time. “Sorry if you were waiting long. I had to tell Vil bye like always. He’s like a mom.” Epel joked as he quickly opened the door for you to enter first. You told him you weren’t waiting long with a smile that left his heart racing through his chest.

The two of you found a table near the corner of the warm and welcoming shop. Epel retrieved the thick textbook of ancient spells as you pulled out your notes and pens. The study date was quiet as the two of you traded answers and placed an order with the waitress that greeted you. You got a pumpkin spice iced coffee with a slice of crumble cake, and Epel ordered a hot apple cider with an apple fritter donut. The cafe was quiet, with a few familiar faces from Royal Swords Academy showing up to hang out in small groups, or study together at their own respective tables. Epel highlighted a section in his notebook as he glanced up at you with his cheeks starting to burn. Maybe now was a good time to try using the word? He tapped the marker against the thin lined paper as a smile spread across his face. “Got sumore gumption? This ain’t so bad now izit?” He asked cheerfully as his stomach began to twist. Fuck. His accent.

“It’s just a bunch of big words I don’t know the meanings of. But since we’re studying together? I guess it’s not that bad.” Your laugh was light as you lifted your pen to mark down notes from the large research book sitting between the two of you. No matter how much he worried, his accent never affected you the way it affects those in his dorm. “People that wrote these books using huge words are definitely pretentious. I mean, what does ‘omnishambles’ mean?” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes as Epel began to feel his anxiety return. “Is it pretentious if I use them?” Epel asked, starting to feel apprehensive of sharing his word of the day with you. But there wasn’t any other opportunity to use the word, and he refused to use it on Vil or Rook when he got back to Pomfiore.

You shook your head with that gentle grin he adored. “Of course not. You’re not some uppity old guy. You are Epel Felmier. I like when you use all sorts of words.” You assured as he lowered the marker onto his paper. His eyes trained on you as he tried to stop the erratic pounding of his heart. “Well… What if I used one of those big words right now?” He asked as your eyes met his and you reached for your iced coffee. “Sure, what is it?” You asked curiously as you sipped, never breaking your locked gaze with the man in front of you. Epel reached for his large paper cup, heavy with the weight of his hot apple cider. “I’ll use it in a sentence…” He trailed off as his face burned and bloomed with rouge. You nodded patiently as your cheeks appeared hot as well.

“I become overwhelmed with basorexia whenever I’m near you.”

Epel admitted with a shaken confidence. You were staring at him with a wide eyed gaze of shock and warm cheeks. You lowered your coffee and Epel offered a nervous laugh, his eyes darted down to his hands. “Sorry, wordah the day… S’on my calendar. It means… Um… I wanna kiss you super bad.” He mumbled awkwardly as he slumped back into the dark brown vinyl cushion with a grin. Yeah, that was super lame.

“Well… I’m waiting. You can’t just use a word like that in a sentence and not put it to use after.” You whispered as a smile began to creep onto your face. Epel sat up swiftly in the seat as his face became so hot he thought it was steaming. He swallowed down any lingering anxiety as he followed your lead by leaning over the table. Epel’s lips meshed together with yours; leaving you with the lingering taste of apple cider to mix with the flavor of pumpkin and cinnamon.

Tagged Accounts: @candlewitch-cryptic

#13 Lovely Hauntings #epel felmier #epel x reader #epel x mc #epel x y/n #epel x yuu #epel twst #epel twisted wonderland #epel felmier fluff #epel felmier x yuu #epel felmier x reader #epel felmier twst

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ariamadd1228 · 2 years

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Ponyboy Head Canons <3

He is way too underrated so here's some hcs

He is so in love with you

like the moment you showed even the slightest of interest he was head of heels

Asks you out while you guys were studying at the library

you said yes obvi like who wouldn't

He takes you to watch the sunset and have a picnic (omfg ahhh😍)

so sweet and polite and sooooooo nervous oml

after he walks you home and you kiss him on the cheek

his face turned TOMATO RED

like oh my god sooooooo flustered

on the way home he replayed the moment like 100 times

told johnny (and maybe soda idk) EVERYTHING

Def asked you out again

prob the drive in movies

when y'all started officially 'dating' he would always leave you notes in your locker and give them in class <3

things like "You look pretty today love" (or just you look pretty today, depends on how far along the relationship is) or "Hello sunshine is great to see you :)

he said 'I love you' first.

def writes poems about you

He LOVES when you play with his hair

like you will be reading under a tree watching the sunset and he will have his head in your lap so you'll play with his hair (he knows that when he sits with his head in your lap you absentmindedly play with his hair)

He especially likes when he just washed the grease and gel out so you compliment him on how soft it feels.

reads to you all the time and loves when you get super into the book

"No Pony please keep reading I wanna know what happens!"

"Alright fine" (Huge smile omfg)

You call him 'cutie' or 'love'

Whenever you call him cute he will turn so red and smile, even after months of dating.

he will you call you 'love/lovely' or 'sunshine', sunshine because he loves sunsets.

You guys call each other 'love' or 'lovely'

Absolutely hates it when you cry, he will start tearing up too

"Oh no y/n whats the matter please dont cry you're breaking my heart here sunshine"

!TW! (Y/n) "I just had a bad day is all, my dad is drunk again and this time its really bad"

(pony) "oh love come here" *he hugs you* "you can just stay at my house if you want, Darry and Soda wont mind."

Rocks back and forth in that hug until you stop crying

The most gentle person ever oml so sweet

Anyway thats all for now hope you liked it!!!

#outsider pov #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader

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cxsmic30 · 4 months

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full madeline angst fic, enjoy :) *ty to @pdsnph for collaborating w me on this!*

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

Hours had passed before Madeline made a move to leave the rotting house. The fire had long ago stopped burning, and she just sat there.

Cold.

Alone.

Furious. The longer she sat there the more angry she got.

“How dare she?” Madeline thought as she stood up to leave.

“A fucking poem for some goddamn clarity.” she mumbled aloud as she reached the car.

She was in a trance-like state the whole drive into the city, the conversation playing over and over in her head.

“Who you could have been.”

“Your brother, you know what he would have been? A poet.”

“That was cruel. I apologize.”

“A stunt-”

“Missus Usher?” She's pulled from the thought by some parking garage attendant.

“You are good to go through, ma'am.” He looks scared. If she wasn't desperate to get up to her house she might stay and taunt him a bit. Instead, she brushes him off with a quick “Yeah, thanks” and drives off to her designated spot and into the elevator.

She's so stuck in the conversation she half expects the elevator door to open up to a rotted house that really ought to be bulldozed. Ding. It opens to a pristine foyer and she's relieved. Immediately pulling off the layers that didn't do much to protect her from the cold of the house anyway. Making her way through the large house, she stops by the bar cart and pours a glass of some whiskey. It's no Henri IV but it will take the edge off and that's what she needs. It doesn’t hit her till she’s in the elevator how truly exhausted she is. She had been tired before, but this was different. This tiredness went bone deep. She feels like she could sleep for years.

She lets the whiskey warm her as she makes her way to her bedroom, basking in the silence the empty house offers. She enjoys it. When she was married, all her husbands wanted to do was talk. And fuck. She hated it, the small talk and the constant noise they made. She enjoyed being alone with her thoughts. She sets the glass on the vanity and moves to the bathroom. She feels dirty. Like somehow the dirt and grime of her childhood home had penetrated her clothes and stained her skin. She runs a hot shower letting the warmth of the water relax the tension in her aching muscles. She scrubs until smooth white skin is reddened. She runs her shampoo through her hair.

“You're in pain. You're exhausted. Uncertain. Frightened.”

The memory washes over her like ice water. She had seen her. Just like she had all those years ago at the bar. She had seen that she was so hungry for power then and so scared of it now. She finishes her shower more tense than she had started it. And colder somehow despite the warmth. She forces the thought down as she moves toward the sink to brush her teeth. She comes up from rinsing, and swipes the condensation from the mirror.

“Some clarity.”

Madeline looked in the mirror, surveying the damage that time and lack of sleep have done to her face. It's not much. By all means and measures she's aged well. But sometimes she looks in the mirror and can see her younger self. So full of passion and drive. Of fury at an unjust world. If she looks closer she can still see the grief that made itself visible at such an early age. Sometimes she looks in the mirror and does not recognize the woman looking back at her.

“I know who you are,”

“And were,”

“And who you could have been.”

“That's enough. Pull it together, you are Madeline FUCKING Usher. It was a long time ago. Get over it.”

she stuns herself with the audible admonishment. But she's right. Of course she is. Why go dwelling on the past and all its possibilities when she had done well for herself in this lifetime? Maybe because of the grief, maybe in spite of it. Does it really matter?

Madeline walks out of the bathroom and away from whatever version of herself was in the mirror tonight. Once she gets to the large closet across the room, she pulls on a deep purple silk nightgown.

“You're one of my favorites.”

What did that even mean? One of? She had other favorites? She wasn't THE favorite? Why not? That also doesn't matter. Not now anyway. The only thing that mattered right now was getting into her bed and drifting far from today. Yes, sleep would fix her. She closed her eyes and waited for the dark to get heavy and drag her deeper into unconsciousness. She waited.

And waited.

And it echos off the fucking walls.

“Who you could have been.”

“Could have been.”

“They break my heart.”

“A collection of impeccable masks in orbit of a stunted heart.”

“A stunted heart.”

And she's back at the mirror. Well, almost. In one of the millions of drawers in her bathroom there's some ambien. A whole prescription from the last time she had a bad stretch of insomnia induced by nightmares. She hated it and refused to take it. She only even had it because she was almost incoherent one night at Rodericks house. He had been worried and insisted on calling his doctor. She wanted to kill him. She had taken it before, a long time ago around the time coincidentally of one of her husbands. But it was different then. Then she could wake up in a cold sweat and not be alone reeling from the nightmares it gave her.

The interesting thing about being COO of a pharmaceutical company is that Madeline hates prescription drugs. Mainly sleeping pills. Something about having no control over your consciousness makes her uneasy. But nevertheless she had them and it was either take the pills or not sleep and she was just so tired.

She took one. She would deal with the nightmares later but for now she would get a few hours of sleep. And that's what she needed.

Lying peacefully in her bed she drifted off to sleep.

Madeline wakes up in her childhood bedroom and is a bit confused. She wanders around for a bit and comes up to the window, where she sees the dirt, that empty casket. It is thundering outside.

“...Mom?” Madeline hears herself call out in a shaky voice that hasn't been her own in so long. She wants to go to her but she can't seem to move. It doesn't matter anyway because with the next flash of lighting her mother is just inches from her. Close enough to see the tears well up in her bright green eyes.

“What is it, Madeline?” The contrast between how softly the question is asked and how frightening her mother looks makes her pause.

“I don't know what to do.” It comes out softly. Like a child telling their parents they are scared of the monster in their closet.

“About what?”

“Just… everything. I thought I knew what to do but I'm so unsure, and I'm so…afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Maddie?”

“I… I just wanted to protect us. To protect him. I tried, Mom, I really tried but I just couldn't and he's sick now and I just wanted to- I just wanted to protect him.” A tear falls freely and the flood gates open. The house shakes with the thunder as she shakes with her sobs.

“Oh Madeline, that always was your problem. You wanted and wanted, and you had to have more and look what you got from it. Your husband's all left you. You don't have any kids. No one to love you.” Madeline’s mother eyes her expensive night clothes. “You have all this fancy stuff, but you're all alone. Roddy, he's got family. People love him, but you?” She pokes Madeline’s chest, right above where her heart lies. The dirt covering her hands gets on Madeline’s silk shirt. “All you've got is this stunted heart…that can't love, or be loved."

She hears the line echoed behind her and turns to find Roderick. Hurt by this betrayal after all she's done for him she doesn't have time to fire back some quick remark before she hears it again from the other side of the room. Verna stands behind her mother and soon it's a choir of all the people she's ever known repeating it. And it's so loud and she's so cold and she just wants it to stop. It's like her feet are stuck to the floor and she can't move past them. Her heartbeat sounds like thunder in her ears. Her tears fall like heavy raindrops.

“Please stop. I'm sorry. Please make it stop. Just make it stop. Please-”

Madeline jolts upwards. She’s awake.

For a moment no noise can be heard in that room but her shaky breaths. She shivers, and for some reason it dawns on her how alone she is. She thinks for a bit: “Look at everything I own, look at this house, this massive bedroom. and yet, I still feel so cold.”

And then she starts to think about Roderick and her mother. She’s always liked him more than her. Nothing Madeline ever did could change that…and there they were, teaming up against her, taunting her, as they always really did. Their words echo in her mind, even though the dream has been long gone by now.

Masks….. A stunted heart…

Madeline sits with that. “A stunted heart…”

She can feel it getting harder to breathe, she can feel her vision getting blurry. “This is not happening..” She buries her head in her arms and breathes in deeply. She closes her eyes. She sees nothing but darkness, until a cold shiver runs through her. She imagines Verna. She imagines Verna turning towards her and smiling that smile, that wide toothy grin that always unnerved her.

“You see? I'm not the only one that thinks so.”

“Stop,” Madeline calls out weakly. This does not change Verna's demeanor.

“Poor, poor Madeline.” she saunters towards her. “You were the daughter of a great man. A powerful man. You were an Usher. And look at you now.” she shakes her head, as if this was amusing to her. “Cold, alone, and broken.” Madeline can feel the tears start to fall.

Verna's face turns serious. “Although it’s always been like that, hasn’t it? You kept trying to distract yourself with money and other people’s admiration, when deep down you knew. You knew what you were. And you still know, don’t you?”

Madeline gasps for air. It doesn't help much. She can hear her own sobs at this point. She imagines what her mother would say.

“Coward. you’re a coward, Madeline.”

This breaks any care she had before about showing her emotions this way. She screams out into the darkness. It’s an ugly sound, but it’s a real one.

She covers her mouth, stunned, and stops for a second. She felt a soft touch on her shoulder.

“Oh, sweetie.” It’s Verna’s voice.

Madeline's eyes widen. She immediately tries to wipe her tears away as she moves away from the entity.

“I…..” Madeline turns to Verna. She has trouble looking directly into her eyes. Verna shakes her head ever so slightly, as if she is in awe about something. She says nothing.

And then…”I'm so sorry, Madeline.”

In one quick move, Madeline reaches for Verna, who immediately takes her and pulls her closer to her. Madeline lays her head on Verna's chest and lets the tears fall freely as Verna starts to stroke her hair.

Madeline feels something small and wet fall on her cheek. She hears a tiny, shaky breath above her.

“I'm so sorry,” Verna repeats. Madeline's shaky sobs continue until she feels something below her.

A rhythm. A heartbeat.

How did she…

“Madeline, try to focus on my heartbeat,” Verna whispers.

Madeline lets her eyes flutter shut as she just listens. She can feel herself calming down.

Her breathing evens out.

She can start to feel a light weight on her, the feeling that lets her know that she is tired. A flash of her mother appears in her mind. “I don’t...I don’t want to go back there,” Madeline confesses, her voice breaking a little.

Verna caresses Madeline's cheek with her thumb. “Shhh…it’s okay. I'm with you. Rest.”

The image of her mother fades away from her mind and it is replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling. She can still hear those comforting whispers and feel those delicate touches as she slowly drifts….drifts….back into sleep. Back into the darkness.

#tfothou #the fall of the house of usher #verna #madeline usher #madeline x verna #wlw #carla gugino #mary mcdonnell

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librarycards · 9 months

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In “Essay on the Awkward / Black / Object,” which appears in Sympathetic Little Monster (2018), Awkward-Rich meditates on the racialization of “awkward,” which is both the speaker’s father’s last name and, for the speaker, a mode of Black being. While awkwardness is not a diagnostic category, its adjectival form allegorizes disability, in much the same way that my peers heralded my neurodivergence by calling me Awkward John. As a racialized term, “awkward” reveals the contingence and tension between race and disability: at once overlapping and yet cleaved apart. Reflecting on the history of slavery through which many African Americans received their last names, Awkward-Rich writes, “You already know the story. A man is made into a thing & sutured to it. The name” (18). The name “Awkward” recalls a violent, familial history but also gestures toward an escape from it, a flight from its inheritance: “Awkward as both punishment & method” (23). As method, awkwardness is a form of negativity and refusal. It is, at once, a recognition of the status of Blackness in an antiblack world—“As long as the object works it is bound to its own annihilation” (21)—and a resignification of that status. “The solution?” the poem’s speaker tells us plainly, “Fall. Fall apart. Decay” (21). To fall apart and decay is to allow the wash of negativity to soak you through. It’s to breathe with the chill of your skin as the negativity dries. To adopt such affective stillness, to be held fast in the iciness of bad crip feelings, is to embrace the power of refusal. This isn’t the reclaimed power of the category of disability, a power bestowed by legibility. This isn’t really empowerment at all. This power is sourced internally by refusing Reason. It’s to refuse the expectation of endurance. It’s to refuse your own instrumentalization—as disabled, as racialized, as queer. Not because you aren’t those things but because you aren’t those things in the way they want you to be. They as family, as employer, as school, as government, as society, as capitalism, as ableism, as white supremacy, as cisheterosexism. To fall. Fall apart. Decay. These things we can do. We do them so very well. So well, in fact, we might call them symptomatic of a debility drive: not ushered into death or disability—contra Edelman and Mollow—but receding back into debility, into fungibility, into the obscurity of invisibility that comes with refusing categorical adherence. This is not a romanticization of abjection nor a negligent omission of people who never had access to the category of disability to begin with; rather, it is a condition of abolition for us all.

J. Logan Smilges, Crip Negativity.

[emphasis added]

#j logan smilges #mine #readings #critical disability studies #disability #ableism #antiblackness

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shipperskipper · 11 months

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Sun x Moon incorrect quotes

Moon: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Sun: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely* Moon: That one. I want that one.

Moon: Do you want to know your gay name? Sun: My... my gay name? Moon: Yeah, it's your first name- Sun: Haha. Very funny Moon- Moon: *gets down on one knee* And my last name. Sun: Oh- oh my god.

Sun: Moon, you love me, right? Moon: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Moon: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Sun: I wrote you a poem. Moon, already crying: You did?

Sun: Are you ready to commit? Moon: Like, a crime or a relationship?

Sun: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Moon: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Sun: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Moon: Is it working?

Sun: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt. Moon: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

Sun: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers? Moon: Peonies, why? Sun: Moon: Were you going to get me flowers? Sun: Moon: Sun: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

Sun: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me? Moon: Depends. Is your bed comfortable? Sun: Yes. Moon: I'd sleep.

Sun: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl. Moon: Okay. Sun: And make out during the scary parts. Moon: Th- Moon: The scary parts. Moon: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Moon: My hands are cold. Sun: Here, let me hold them. Moon: My lips are cold too. Sun: *covers Moon's mouth with their hand*

Sun: You have to apologize to them Moon. Moon: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

Moon: Talk dirty to me, baby~ Sun: The dishes. Moon: Wh- Sun: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

#Fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sun x moon #sundrop x moondrop #incorrect quotes

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poem-today · 8 months

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A poem by Brian Brodeur

THE CARPENTER'S TALE

There's going to be an accounting. And it'll be the weird stats that come out of somewhere. And this is one of the stranger ones.

—Kerry Breen, This American Life, 8/13/2021

Most of us laughed at being called "essential" in those first weeks of New York's quarantine. We'd grease a hinge or patch a rotten sill,

replacing sunk beams under a snack machine, painting classrooms. Though it felt like cheating, I'd never seen the schools look so pristine.

Then, in April, at our team meeting, our boss clears his throat and his voice softens. Putting down the cruller he's been eating,

he says, "Next week, we start building coffins." One of us laughs. Another spills his coffee. I tell my boss, "Get out of here. Build coffins."

He looks up from his clipboard and glares at me, then gives us all the plans his boss gave him: "We'll be building coffins for the city."

On Monday, I show up at this school gym outfitted as a shop. On cinderblocks, beside the bleachers with the lights turned dim,

our prototype: a six-foot plywood box standing on its end where the feet would be. Above the prototype and scoreboard clocks,

a championship banner's "Victory" had begun to sag where flags of UN nations cling to the ceiling. Under Germany,

we set up cutting and assembly stations, a place where we can urethane the boards. Electricians rig fans for ventilation

and 10 of us plug in extension cords. We stack up drafts of plywood on the floor— a draft is 50 sheets. Our only words

concern the lack of Mets and Yankees scores, how hot the gym gets, who brought Gatorade. We run through 2x4s and they bring more—

wash, rinse, repeat. I mean, we're getting paid, but after so long it occurs to me: My god, they really need this many made?

No one gives us an end. We build 150, stacking them from one side of the gym to the other, five coffins high—no one can see

above the shrink-wrapped freight pallets of them. I back the forklift into the elevator and drive down Concourse near the stadium

and down another street to a tractor trailer. The forklift's so slow people honk at me. Honk at a guy carrying coffins—or

scream at me to move. This goes on three weeks. I find it—I don't know—bizarre, I guess, not one person ever stops to ask me

what I'm doing, everyone obsessed with toilet paper. Then, passing on foot, a guy who speaks Spanish stops to zip his vest

and says, "Morte," finger-slicing his throat. "Sí," I say, and he just shakes his head and walks away. I slam the trailer shut.

Our team built 450 in the end, and there were other teams in other districts across the whole Department of Ed.

No one I tell has ever heard of this. Why would they? Not exactly good PR— Guess what we used schools for. You'll never guess. …

But now that things are waning, more and more I feel alright, like I can let it out. It wasn't war—if it had been a war

we'd know what happened, what it was about, how much we'd lost, what people did out there. I'm sure someone will make a final count,

and we'll deal with each last expenditure, but that's years off, and this is not a war.

Brian Brodeur

More poems by Brian Brodeur are available through his website.

#brian brodeur #american poetry #the carpenter's tale #covid19 #coffins

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emo-gremlin · 5 months

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Adventures in Incorrect Quote generation!

Starring: My friendly neighborhood!

(Some dirty jokes are ahead!)

Tax: Are you tall enough to play basketball though?

Noir: Are you calling me short?

Tax: I'm calling you vertically challenged.

🤣

Ricky: Hey.

Noir: *pissed off* You… complete …ASS, Ricky! You show up here after WEEKS, and you say “hey”?!

🤣

Noir: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Dennis: I wrote you a poem.

Noir, already crying: You did?

🤣

Gordon: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this?

Norman, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

🤣

Gordon: I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader.

🤣

Norman: I'm having problems with a guy...

Dennis: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

🤣

George: *Locks Junebug in the car.* Act like a child, get treated like a child.

Junebug: What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in a car?

🤣

Lenard, learning to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time?

George: The car takes a screenshot.

Gordon: Please pull over. I’m driving now.

🤣

Noir: sapnu puaS.

Norman: What??

Dennis: What language is that.

Noir: Turn your phone 180 degrees.

*Noir was removed from the groupchat*

🤣

George: I like your new pants!

Norman: Thanks, they were 50 off!

George: I’d like them better if they were 100 off. *winks*

Norman: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

George: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Norman: That’s a terrible way to run a business, George.

🤣

Norman: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Dennis: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Norman: I—

Norman: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

🤣

Lilianna, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Gordon: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

🤣

Tax: Fine! Judge all you want but...

Tax, points at Dennis: Married a lesbian.

Tax, points at Lilianna: Left a man at the altar.

Tax, points at George: Fell in love with a gay ice dancer.

Tax, points at Noir: Threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire.

Tax, points at Lestat: Lives in a box!

🤣

Pillbug: Lilith taught me to think before I act.

Pillbug: ...So if I smack the shit out of you, rest assured that I thought about it and am confident in my decision.

🤣

Norman: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

George: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Norman: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Gordon, on the walkie talkie: This is Gordon, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

🤣

Noir: Bro-

Tax: No, no, hold up, rewind.

Tax: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

🤣

Lenard: You call yourself my soulmate, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?

Norman: Making four accounts.

Lenard, tearing up: Really...?

🤣

Gordon: Hey, it’s your turn to wash the dishes.

Noir: I’ll wash the walls red with your blood.

Gordon: Okay, but before that, wash the dishes. Also, use soap this time.

🤣

Norman, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day?

Gordon: …

Gordon: What’s in the box?

Norman: What woul-

Gordon: Norman, what’s in the box?

Norman: I think you know.

🤣

Dennis: My knee just cracked so loudly that I half expect it to glow in the dark tonight.

🤣

#gremlin approved meme #my friendly neighborhood ricky #my friendly neighborhood norman #my friendly neighborhood game #my friendly neighborhood #mfn junebug #norman mfn #mfn norman #mfn #mfn game #mfn gordon #mfn george

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krystaln78 · 1 month

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DESIRE

What is desire?

It cannot be defined as the objectifying lust or materialistic wants. It is not ambition; for every ambition is a type of desire but not every desire is an ambition. And not all are fulfilled.

Desire can be seen in the eyes of the child washing a motorcycle that does not belong to his family when a school bus drives by.

Desire can be felt in the hearts of those who are always the poets but never the poems.

Desire can be heard in the prayers of civilians stuck in war zones, as their hearts yearn for freedom.

Desire can be represented by the old man in the old age home looking at a young couple with their child. It can be represented by a teenage girl seeking validation she never received from home in the outside world. Desire can be seen in the tears of the student who stayed up all night doing revision.

Desire can be seen in the love for learning that some possess, about something they want to know more about and understand, something they never stop exploring and something that intrigues them from within.

DESIRE. It makes us human, after all.

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ male, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ Hawkins in the 80s was not very progressive. So being anything but a straight white person, causes disruption, or issues.

⭑ So your crush on Eddie felt like a hidden secret. Knowledge that you would guard with your life.

⭑ But the love gods must have taken pity on you, because Eddie felt those feelings in return. It was not unrequited.

⭑ You met in alleys and outside of normal hours. You seemed like Eddie’s best friend - the freak and the loner.

⭑ But you didn’t care about the names, all you cared about was Eddie and the way he looked at you (like you were his world)

⭑ Those that knew you guys understood who you were. They saw the lingering looks and giddy energy. Uncle Wayne realised it too - when girls just didn’t excite Eddie like other young men.

⭑ Did they care? No. Absolutely not. Well, a few of the Hellfire Club were confused and some could say that they asked inappropriate questions. But they were honestly curious and confused.

⭑ You wouldn’t have to ignore each other in the hallways, but you do when your family is around. They cannot know anything about Eddie because your mother will find out immediately.

⭑ Writing poems and songs about you

⭑ Having inside jokes together

⭑ He stands up to bullies, but over time you learn to do it yourself

⭑ I reckon Jason is gay tbh, and he has a lot of issues with his feelings. He would definitely make fun of your relationship with Eddie but the Hellfire Club retaliates. It brought tears to your eyes.

⭑ Eddie picking you up and dropping you off everywhere

⭑ Honestly anyone with eyes could see the way you two look at each other. But I guess ignorance wins out

⭑ Being in Eddie’s trailer and him reading to you while your head rests on his chest

⭑ Talking about the future and leaving Hawkins.

NSFW🔞minors dni!

⭑ Eddie is a switch; he’s both dom and sub. Bottom and top. He loves changing positions during sex, which could insinuate that he was usually in charge.

⭑ He loves both receiving and giving head. The way you choke on his cock drives him insane.

⭑ He has unlimited amounts of lube - I’m talking one of every kind. And everyone in town thinks he’s such a charmer with the ladies...

⭑ He will groan out praises when he’s inside of you; “you’re doing so well.”

⭑ Him being your first, and he has a breeding kink/size kink

⭑ Loves the smell of your skin, especially when your scent is mixed with his

⭑ Sex is 40% serious and 60% playful

⭑ Big on aftercare and will clean you up, or run the shower so you can wash off before falling back in bed and cuddling.

#eddie munson #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things headcanon #stranger things x you

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