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stergeon · 23 days

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for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

#sterge.eml #foxyjeongin #thank you for playing my little game and letting me talk about stories (and about me lmao)#sorry this is kind of a long post #i talk too much #i think i sound pretentious in this ask whoops. sorry #unfortunately i kind of am. i’m working on it.#… i guess the short answer to that first question is ‘emotions and mental illness’ lol #if you follow me on twitter (not recommended as it’s just me complaining about the weather and not being able to ride my motorcycle)#you know that every time i bring up my writing in therapy my therapist rocks my shit by revealing the story is #in fact.#NOT about what i thought it was about #or more accurately it’s ALSO secretly about whatever’s going on with me in real life lmao #y’know what’s really fun? looking back at something you wrote in a manic or depressive episode and going ah. hm. interesting.#the signs were. in fact. there.#(this is in fact not fun and i don’t like it. but it always happens.)#everything i write is accidentally Also about being bipolar. no getting around that #i tend to have issues organizing my thoughts and feelings to even figure out how tf i’m feeling #(forget making any attempt at doing so verbally. i have chronic foot-in-mouth disorder and accidentally say shit i don’t mean all the time)#but writing stuff down has always helped me sort through whatever mess is going on in my noggin and i love it for that #learning how to take critique is my no. 1 piece of writing advice but no. 2 is to read #read the classics. find out why they’re classics. read weird shit. read shit you don’t like. find things you like about em anyway.#and importantly: figure out WHY you do or don’t like it #it’s funny to re-read a book i haven’t read in a long time and discover OH. that’s where i get that technique from.#or that’s where i got that idea. or that’s why i had X thing happen in this story.#or why i like this type of character or scenario #nothing’s truly new and original #we’re all an amalgamation of influences and that ruuuuules #celebrate it!!!

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dragons-and-yellow-roses · 1 year

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Ya boi got a new medicine and a therapist.

#i had another psychiatrist appointment after a year! (i tend to neglect my mental health)#ive been dealing with a lot of paranoid thoughts and shit and so i told her #and she decided to put me on abilify #one of my friends takes abilify! we'll be abilify buddies #and ive realized that i need therapy #ive had a lot of shit happen to me in the last few years #and ive just been ignoring it instead of dealing with it #and now i cant ever sit alone with my thoughts because all of that shit comes to haunt me #i just dont know how to deal with it on my own #and for awhile i swore i would never go back to therapy. because my first therapist was a piece of shit #'just get used to the fact that your best friend might die so that it doesnt hurt so much if it happens' -about my suicidal best friend #'think about what your mom's going through' -about my transphobic mom who made me want to kill myself #but i realized that my life and mental state is only going to get worse if i dont deal with the shit ive got going on #and when i called to schedule. i just called for the first available therapist. and the guy said 'oh she'll be perfect for you'#and i trust this man that ive never met #i looked up the therapist. she seems lovely #she better be because i have like four appointments scheduled. the man on the phone did that so i wouldnt lose out on any appointments #he was very kind #im glad im gonna get some help. still scared. but looking forward to it

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milo-is-rambling · 29 days

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I feel like a huge idiot all the time like it’s great and is awful and there’s a layer of smart in me that I can’t seem to actually get to it just simmers there and occasionally a smart thought bubble floats to my mouth or brain and then soon enough it’s all bullshit again

#I have spent too much time in my own brain recently I think #something something my therapist didn’t text me back letting me know if I could do my appointment virtually instead of in person and I don’t #want to bother her again so I’m just like anxious and feel annoying #and my brother (autocorrected to bother for a second lol) is smart and went to school and got a job and shit and my mom is smart and my dad #was the idiot and now he’s dead and I’m alone to be the stupid one 😭😭😭😭#I feel so bad about myself all the time but like oh my god people around me talking about shit I don’t understand and like I can’t even #try to understand bc it’s like programming related and I end up feeling stupid and left out and like gahhhhh #my mom said I’m wallowing and I have to be like no I’m not but I literally sleep under a wall of mental illness theme canvas pieces ive made #idk I feel like a failure all the time and like I’ll rot in my mothers house for the rest of my life or until she eventually kicks me out #therapist text me baccckkkkkkkkkkkk #sorry a little not sorry to be extra ranty on my rant blog rn I’m just in my brain yall

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ughwhyislifelikethis · 1 year

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#personal #i fucking hate that one fucking thing being said (and its readonable) has sent me into a fucking tailspin from oh i fucked up to #i should just die #reallllly fucking hate that i was boen with a brain that DOESNT WORK RIGHT and i told my therapist today i was fine w/ it but honestly no!#im not! sometimes i really fucking hate having a brain that doesnt get social cues or misses ghat you're causing problems and then #when they ask you to reasoably stop your brain well time to consider yourself a total worthless piexe of shit.#and i fucking hate that i have to say this somwwhere i cant nust keep it to myself nooo it doesnt help if i just keep it in my head i have #to fucking say it somewhere not in my head.#and i fucking hate that it can come across as attention seeking and im not trying to be but what if if i am im just more of a piece of shit #i fucjing hate that my brain doesnt work right and tbat im not noemal or whatever the fhck you want to call it #and i hate that my body doesnt work right and that i feel like a hypochondriac for wondeing if i have joint issues of a specifc type #and maybe it would be better if i just stopped looming into it even though it wouldnt help to do that #but at least that way im less of a bother or less annoying #i fucking hate so much right now #and i hate that my fycking peruod is close to a month late and i know im not pregnant or some shit it just means my body has once again #decided it DOESNT WANT TO DO SHIT PROPERLY and i cant afford a doctor or abything so irs not like i can get answers!#fuck everything.

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lenacosse · 3 months

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hello! can you please write tangerine x reader where he and his wife are working on the same mission without knowing it. she has ladybug as her usual partner and they have to pretend to be husband and wife. at some point, ladybug and tangerine are fighting and since ladybug wants a break from it, he’s like « wait, my wife’s coming » and when tangerine turns around its actually HIS wife

What?

pairing: tangerine x reader

cw: violence, strong language

word count: 3,842

(laughing cause this turned into the whole movie, obviously not cannon accurate but i had so much fun writing this)

══════════════════

"Alright that's me," you say as you zip your suitcase, you were going out to Japan to work on a mission with Ladybug. Tangerine did not know where you were actually going, when you first started dating you didn't tell him your job because it was too dangerous and you didn't want to scare him away and when things got serious between you both you were too scared to tell him because you didn't want to jeopardise things between you both so you fabricated a seamless lie about your occupation and he didn't suspect a thing.

"Same here," replies Tangerine. You walk towards him and put on hand on his bicep the other on the side of his neck, his hands go to your waist.

"Try not to miss me too much," you tease, a playful smirk forming at the corners of your mouth.

"Same can be said for you love." Tangerine winks, you roll your eyes and lean forwards. You press your lips to his and you share a passionate kiss, one that'll leave you longing for more later on when you lay awake thinking of him.

══════════════════

You arrive in Japan and instantly the whole new world amazes you, Japan was truly impressively innovative and futuristic. But you weren't here to enjoy the culture, you had a very simple mission to do, retrieve something from a train with Ladybug, what could possibly go wrong?

Ladybug answers the call from your operator for the mission, you're both given your code names. You got given Kitty- slightly humiliating you thought but you've had worse.

"Kitty?!" Ladybug complains, "I see you're playing favourites." He says to your operator.

"Oh I'd never," she responds. "Oh and also, you two are a newly wed adventurous couple who are on their honeymoon."

"Are they also complete losers?" You ask.

"indefinitely."

You both get to the train station which is bouncing with life, you walk alongside Ladybug who is talking with the operator about why exactly you two had been picked for the job, something about someone dropping out sick maybe? You weren't really listening.

"Shit." Ladybug says.

"Shit what?" You respond with a sigh, it was always something going wrong.

"I think I lost the key back there, some guy bumped into me."

"I'll get into it, what's the locker number."

"523." Replied the operator.

You get into the locker whilst Ladybug still talks about Carver, you do nothing but roll your eyes at how much he cares he wasn't a top priority for the mission. You gather the items in the locker, the pair of you put in your ear pieces and pack the little bag. You had no idea why half of the things were necessary but it really didn't matter, you were sure time would tell. There was a gun in there, which you wanted to take but your partner was on a no killing strike and wanted to become more peaceful, you thought that was ridiculous considering your jobs but his therapist had been filling his head with nonsense.

"Ladybug!" You grab his attention, ending his useless conversation. "The train.. it's about to leave."

"Oh. Let's go."

The two of you quickly shove your way onto the train, it was a very close call. Immediately you were impressed by your surrounding's, the train, even economy was borderline luxury.

"This place is nice," says Ladybug, nodding his head approvingly.

"Agreed." You respond, you both make your way down the train whilst your operator informs you both of the trains different compartments. Then she tells you what it is you're retrieving. A silver briefcase with a sticker on the handle.

"Briefcase owners are not simple to take from." Ladybug states.

"Can't say I've much experience stealing briefcases." You reply.

"The owners should be in economy class,"

"Owners? Plural. God I knew we should have taken the gun, fuck you and your therapist Ladybug." You tut.

"I was choosing spiritual enlightenment, besides there's two of us, two, hopefully, of them. We'll be fine."

You just sigh in response, the two of you continue walking where you're met with the ticket collector. You look to Ladybug who was the one in charge of the tickets, the prolonged pocket search told you everything you needed to know. You sigh once again pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Shit I think I dropped our tickets with the key,"

"Great! Fucking brilliant."

Another pocket search and Ladybug finds the receipt which the man reluctantly accepts.

"The takeaway from that is from now on I will hold onto important things, got it?"

"Fine by me." Ladybug concludes.

You both continue your walk through economy where you heard an all too familiar voice, the man who you just walked past sounded exactly like your husband. However you didn't see his face because Ladybug was blocking him, nevertheless there was no way it was him, he was on a business trip in London. Immediately that thought leaves your mind as you and Ladybug get to the luggage, you scan over the different bags.

"There's no fucking way were finding this," Ladybug scowls.

"Just did." You reply and grab the case careful of causing attention.

"Great work Kitty,"

"Hm, what's the catch?" You reply, things felt too easy.

"Just get off the train."

You both oblige and Ladybug attempts to conceal the case in his jacket, you would argue that it would only bring suspicion but your only focus was to exit. You both make your way through the different compartments again, your heart was thumping and you felt uneasy, but persevered until you stand at a door to exit.

"Ahh look, maybe my luck has increased," Ladybug says triumphally.

"God I hope so." You respond.

The train slows down and the door opens, on the other side is a very angry looking man with curly hair, a neck tattoo and a white suit. Who is looking at you with a look so intense it makes your skin crawl. Before you know it he is lunging at you and Ladybug with a knife in his hand, you gasp as he stabs Ladybug. The two of them fall back onto a glass door, shattering it and falling to the ground. But as he removes the knife it's revealed that he just got his phone, you sigh in relief and walk into the room they fell into as Ladybug stands up.

"You stabbed me?!" Cries Ladybug, it's a mere second until he lunges at him again. You watch as they fight, you look for a weapon.

You smash a champagne bottle over his head and at the same time Ladybug kicks him, making him stumble back. The comical fight between them continues, the man reveals his motive, something about you two being responsible for his wives death, which is ridiculous because it wasn't true. The man throws his knife at Ladybug who holds the briefcase up for protection, however the knife bounces back and hits the man right in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

"Well, so much for no killing." You say, as you take the knife from his chest and wipe it clean on his jacket. You put it in your pocket for later.

You help Ladybug clean up as you both attempt to figure out who he is with no luck you give up and you set him up on the seat eating a packet of nuts. Hopefully to distract from the fact he was dead, better than nothing you thought.

You and Ladybug split up, your job is to find a table and sit there for when he finds the owners of the briefcase. All the operator knew was that they were twins. Soon Ladybug comes to sit with you, telling you about how the twins aren't actually twins and how he just fought one in the quiet car.

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, we just have to get the case and leave."

"I can't just walk off they know what I look like."

"Well then, I'll get the case you try get off and I'll get past with the case, look at me no one will suspect me. You know this is a very sexist industry, but as of now it has its advantages."

You leave the other way of the train to make it back to retrieve the case whilst Lady bug works on finding a way to exit the train. You go to the place where you stashed the case, you however quickly learn it is no longer there.

"Fuck! For fuck sake. Stupid fucks must've got to it." You rant on as you practically tear apart the room looking for the case. And much to your dismay it is absolutely nowhere to be seen. You pace back and fourth trying to rack your brain on what to do- it was your only upper hand that the twins didn't know of your existence so you couldn't blow that by trying to retrieve the case of off them, you also didn't know what they looked like. Just as you're pacing you get a text message, it was from Ladybug.

'need ur help. i'm cornered.'

You sigh in dismay, but you knew you had to go and help Ladybug with this. So you work your way down the train, checking everywhere for your partner. You hear struggle in the distance so you knew you were getting closer, you brace yourself to walk in.

"Gotcha now, there's no way you're escaping you slithery bastard. Give me the case and you walk away untouched."

"For the last time we don't have the case."

"Yes you fucking do cause I ain't got it."

"Stop. My wife is coming, I don't want her to see this."

"Your wife? What sad sack is married to you."

"She's actually really hot I'll have you know." You walk in as Ladybug says that, you mentally gag.

You freeze on the spot as you see the back of the man fighting Ladybug. For some reason his hair was identical to your husband's hair, the height and build was also the same. But no... you were definitely wrong and simply overthinking. That is until he turned around and you swore you heart stopped momentarily.

"What the fuck?!!" Tangerine says.

You just stare at him as he stares at you, you had absolutely no idea what the fuck to do. How on earth has this happened? Ladybug looks between the two of you, the confusion plastered over his face.

"That's my wife. Not yours." Tangerine says, the expression on his face is unreadable, he didn't look angry.. but he wasn't happy to see you that's for sure.

Ladybug just starts laughing, clearly he doesn't believe it. But he soon stops once neither of you laugh with him. "Wait.. is this true?"

"Yes." You reply.

"You're married to this geezer?!" Tangerine says, he looked like he was going to kill someone, his fists were clenched and his breathing was quick. You couldn't help but let fear wash over you.

"No obviously not- we're on a mission." You sigh trying to find the words to explain yourself.

"I'm so fucking confused right now." Ladybug says, you glare at him and he quickly shuts up.

You lean against the counter and run your hands through your hair, Tangerine just stares at you and you get a proper look at him. He was roughed up, splattered with blood and messy hair. In any other context you'd be drooling over him.

"You're working with him to get the case?" Tangerine questions, crossing his arms.

"...yes," you awkwardly pick your nails, this whole situation was throwing you off, it felt weird between you and Tan now considering basically your whole marriage was a lie. Looking at him you wondered what else you didn't know.

"You lied to me." Tangerine walks closer to you.

"You lied to me." You narrow your eyes at him, standing up straight you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well this is fucking weird," Ladybug says, you and Tan in sync tell him to shut up, and he does.

"We can talk about this later, I need that case." You say.

"No. You're not leaving my side, there's someone else running around here, I can't have anything happening to you."

A sense of relief washes over you as you learn he doesn't completely hate you anymore. Maybe your marriage wouldn't go to crap, but there was absolutely no way you'd be staying by his side like some helpless victim.

"No. I need the case, I can protect myself. And I will, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"(Y/N).." Tan starts.

"No." He just nods in response and passes you his gun, you take it and put it into your pocket, the air is filled with deadly silence. That is until Lemon walks in.

"There you are... oh (Y/N)." Lemon says, he stops dead in his tracks and does a take back. "(Y/N)?!" His face drops and he sends an alarming look to Tangerine who just shakes his head in response.

"What the fuck?!" You look between the two men, you truly couldn't be more taken aback.

Lemon nervously laughs. "Are you enjoying Japan? We had a change of plans, you know work is so unpredictable these days." He looks to Tangerine for help, he just runs his hand over his face whilst sighing.

"She knows everything and she's working with this dickhead." He points to Ladybug who just raises his hand.

"Right... well um great," Lemon falters you found it funny how confused he was, he never was great in awkward situations.

"Okay this was interesting but we've got places to be, come on Kitty."

You take one final glance at your husband who looks extremely stumped and Lemon who just looks puzzled, you weren't sure how the rest of this mission would go but you just knew you couldn't wait for it to be over.

You leave with Ladybug to go find the case again and leave the train, you knew Tangerine would be fine so you felt confident in your decision to leave him. Besides you had a mission to carry out and that you were going to do.

"How come I didn't know you were married?"

You sigh. "Because it is private information, I didn't want to put him in danger."

"He seems lovely.." Ladybug says, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

"He is lovely, you don't know him."

"Neither do you- he's an assassin and you had no idea."

"Shut up. We just need to get the case and get off this stupid fucking train."

You both make it to the first class longue and there the case is, back in its original spot. "That was not there when I looked." You furrowed your brows.

"You mustn't've looked properly."

"I fucking did, ripped the whole place apart."

Before you knew it you were in yet another fight, the Hornet lunged at you making you fall onto the table, you hit her over the head with the case allowing you to get up. It was a messy fight, arms and legs flying around. But here you are with a venomous needle inching towards you throat, you flip her onto her back and pry the needle out of her hand. You inject it into her neck and watch her face drop.

"Being killed by your own methods, that's dark." You watch as blood pours out of her eyes and her throat starts to close over, her struggled gasping and choking fills the area. You get up and watch as she dies, withering in pain.

"Fuck that was close." Ladybug sighs.

"Come on, we need to go."

The two of you make your way back through the train and down to economy. That's where you see Tangerine standing pointing a gun at a girl in pink with a bob. His expression is devasting yet full of a rage you've never seen in your life, it makes your stomach drop. Something has happened. You quicken your pace, Tangerine sees you and lowers the gun.

"What happened?" You ask, he looked borderline psychotic.

"Lemon, she." He points the gun at her, "killed Lemon."

You face drops and you look back to Ladybug.

"He's lying! Please help me, please." The girl pleads. You turn to her and punch her square in the face, knocking her back into the chairs. You punch her again in the throat, the move makes her blackout and you turn back to your husband.

"Fuck this job we need to get off this train."

Ladybug grabs the case and you three walk back the opposite way, ready to exist. Your mind is fuzzy and your head hurts, there's no way Lemon is dead, that reality devasts you. Lemon was like a brother to you, it broke your heart knowing things would never be the same. As you walk out of the train Ladybug doesn't follow you and Tangerine.

"Ladybug?" You look back to see him struggling against the girl in pink. "For fuck sake!"

"Just leave him, come on."

"No. I can't leave him. We need to help him." You walk back onto the train, Tangerine following you.

With much struggle you get the girl in pink on the ground, using zip ties you found in her bag you tie her hands together and force her into the seat. The four of you sit waiting for the next stop. No one uttering a word. A man comes to sit at the table next to you four, he immediately recognises the girl, she tells him his son is dead, his grandson next, yet he was one step ahead of her, so she sits useless and defeated, a look of triumph overcomes you, you wanted nothing more than to slit her throat but you knew she would have later value, so you leave her sitting there wallowing in her stupidity.

The man tells you all his story, you pick up on his wisdom, feeling nothing but trust towards him. So when he tells you all to follow him- bar the girl, you do. He takes you to the bathroom where his son, and Lemon lay. His son turns out is not dead and reaches for his father. Your eyes fixate on Lemon, unlike Tangerine who is leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. Your heart thumps as Lemon somehow yawns? His eyes open and he looks around, extremely confused.

"Am I in hell?" He questions.

"Oh my god!" You gasp, you turn to Tangerine who instantly stands behind you looking at Lemon.

He rips open his shirt, showing his bullet proof vest, where bullets sat, things were piecing together but you were extremely confused as to what exactly happened.

"Oh.. you drank the water." Concludes Ladybug.

"Water? What water?" Tangerine asks, looking to your partner.

"The water spiked with sleeping powder."

All of you go to sit, awaiting the next stop.

"I can't believe you're an assassin." Lemon says. As he sits opposite you.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," You shrug.

"We need to get off this bastarding train, no more being held back." Tangerine says, you could tell he wasn't half with it. None of you were but he was right.

"We need a plan," Ladybug says. You all agree, and the elder comes up with roles for each of you to properly execute the plan.

You go with Lemon to try and control the trains route, Tangerine goes with Ladybug to hand in the case and cause a distraction whilst the elder goes to take on the white death, something dramatic he said about getting his revenge.

"Fuck it's all in Japanese. There was no Thomas episodes in Japanese." Lemon scowls.

"It's fine, we'll figure it out." You respond trying to be optimistic.

"Okay, we just have to slow this down. Fucking stupid thing! Fucking slow down." Lemon curses.

"So far so good." Ladybug says as he approaches you both, "you can stop the train."

"We don't know how to fucking work this shit!" You groan trying to suppress your frustration.

Lemon and Ladybug go back and fourth, you head hurts from listening to them. Suddenly two men come through the door shooting their guns, you all duck down to shield yourselves from the bullets. You and Lemon lunge at the men, taking them down whilst leaving Ladybug to stop the train. One of the men had you up against the wall, hand over you throat choking you, you felt the life slowly draining your body and with every passing second you become more and more weak. You watch Lemon trying to take down two other men, he doesn't know you're being straggled. Just as you are about to accept your fate, Tangerine comes in, knocking the man to the ground and shooting him in the head. You gasp for air your fingers gently caressing your tender throat, Tangerine is instantly at you.

"Are you okay love?"

You nod and he strokes your cheek, a great sense of comfort overrides you, then he and goes to help Lemon take down the other two men. Whilst they do that Ladybug finally figures out how to stop the train. Or so you thought, the manual book flies out the window and the train collides with the one in front, you all grip onto something. Another two men make their way up to the driving cart, which you all in a group effort defeat. Ladybug starts pulling out all sorts of wires which make the slow down and ride right into a wall, sending you all flying forward through the train as it destructs its way through a village. You land laying on a patch of dirt, Tangerine beside you. You heard a gunshot and jump up, you see The White Dead dead with his brains blown.

You two make your way over to where Ladybug, the elder and his son are, not even two minutes later the girl in pink comes with a machine gun, talking about her fate and luck, which doesn't last long before she's hit with a moving vehicle.

"What the fuck..?" You sigh, you look to Tangerine who looks just as puzzled as you. Ladybug goes off with Maria your handler who came to get you both, you decided to stay with Tangerine and the two of you go to find Lemon.

"Can't believe I didn't realise you were an assassin. Seems so obvious now." Tangerine says, taking your hand.

"Yeah well I didn't notice either, besides. I think I'm done with it, today was too messy."

Tangerine nods in agreement, you both find Lemon who turns out was driving the truck that hit the girl. The three of you decide to go home, of course Lemon didn't rest until he found out the ins and outs of your work. You were relieved to know everything Tangerine had ever told you- besides obviously his job was true. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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intoanotherworld23 · 1 year

Text

Private Session

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, this entire one shot is pure sex and smut so you have been warned folks

Summary: Chris Evans has been your therapist for a while now, and todays session is a physical one

✨Please do not copy and paste my work or steal my work or publish my work as your own or I will have you reported✨

"God I love your cock." Humming around his lips as he drilled himself deeper inside of you.

"Fuck you look so good right now." His words encouraging to you as his lips started moving down your neck sucking on the flesh. "So fucking good."

It was wrong what the two of you were doing. He was your therapist and he could lose his license if he got caught. You were vulnerable and haven't gotten laid in a long time, and he was a willing participant.

There was something about Chris that had your thighs always clenching together. So many nights you were knuckle deep inside yourself imagining what he was doing to you right now. Never did you think he would make the first move on you. It was almost like you were dreaming.

"Come on sweetheart don't lose focus on me now." A dark voice bringing your back to reality feeling the tip of his cock slowly entering you again. "Gotta fuck that damage out of you."

"Oh god Chris don't stop." Raking your nails down his back as he leaned on his hands on either side of your head. "Shit right there right there."

"God damn you are so fuckin tight." Groaning through clenched teeth as he concentrated on not cumming too early.

Pieces of his long hair falling in front of his face tempting you to reach up and pull on it. His once light eyes now darkened with lust and desire. Whimpers leaving your mouth every time he thrusted into you.

"Nobody fuck this pussy good enough for you sweetheart." To be honest he was completely awed how tight you were, and felt shocked that nobody made you feel good. "If you were mine I'd worship that wet little pussy of yours everyday."

Chris leaned his head down kissing along your collarbone getting to the tops of your breasts a wet tongue brushing your bouncing breasts. Attaching his mouth to your nipple sucking on the nub until you felt a slight sting.

Feeling your back scraping against the leather couch. Sweat dripping down your back making you slide back and forth. Legs wrapping around his waist giving him an all new angle. His eyes moving to your face to watch your reactions.

"Fuck so good taking my cock like you are." Immediately your eyes moving down watching as he disappeared inside of you mouth open in amazement.

"Oh god." Your head falling back as you arched your back feeling him all the way in your stomach.

"This pussy is mine sweetheart." Growling as he leaned forward his mouth right by your ear his possessiveness had you moaning. "All mine to play with to fuck to taste."

"Fuck yes it's all yours Chris." Whining as your hands reached out beside you gripping on the leather your nails digging into the fabric. "Mmm god you fuck me so good."

"Can feel you squeezing my cock so deliciously." Sharply thrusting into you making you deliberately clench around him as your hands gripped his thighs. "God I should have done this sooner."

His eyes moved to your chest watching as your breasts bounced, and a drop of sweat falling down to your chest. The room smelled like sweat and sex and it had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Wanna hear you moan my name while you take my cock baby." His hand grabbed your chin making you look into his eyes. "Watch that pretty mouth say my name."

"Oh god Chris." Crying out his name in the throes of ecstasy making him wear a shit eating grin he was loving the power he had over you. "I'm gonna cum."

"Oh no sweetheart you're not cumming just yet." Hands grabbing your body turning you around on your hands and knees ass up in the air. "Not until I say so."

Hands gripping onto your ass squeezing your cheeks as he thrusted back inside of you. Both of you groaning as he started to move your head tossing back and forth with this new angle.

His pelvis pushing against your ass every time he drilled himself inside you. Your cheeks jiggling his skin smacking on yours the sound making your cheeks heat up. Feeling your arousal slowly sliding down your inner thigh.

"You're a damaged little girl aren't you." He wasn't asking you a question more like making a statement his eyes watching your body writhing under him. "So fucking damaged."

Feeling his hands move up and down your back as you felt your hips bouncing back against him. Licking his lips as he watched you lose complete control, and he was loving it.

Chris felt like he was taking advantage of you, and felt bad but the way you were moaning his name changed his thoughts. There was something about you that he had to have, and he couldn't believe he had you right now.

For months he's listened to you complain and talk about your love life. He was becoming more invested in you the more sessions you had with him. Fantasizing all the things he could do with you if you were him.

Some people would say he’s taking advantage of your vulnerability, but if anything you made the first move. This was something the both of you clearly wanted.

"Chris I'm gonna cum." Crying out as you felt your pussy clenching around him and that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach you knew you weren't going to last long. "Oh god please Chris."

"Cum for me sweetheart." Whispering into your ear as his body leaned forward his chest pressed to your back.

Your orgasm felt like such a sweet release as your hands gripped the arm rest in front of you. Pumping his load inside of you both of you breathing heavily as you tried to get your mind straight. Still in disbelief you just had sex with your therapist.

"That was amazing." You stated out of breath making him chuckle as you turned your body on your back as Chris stood up.

"That's only the beginning sweetheart." He winked at you making you smile as you laid there on the couch still naked.

After a few minutes of silence his phone started going off. Quickly putting on his underwear he grabbed his phone and talked to whoever was on the other line. Awkwardly sitting there now wondering if you should just leave or wait for him.

Standing up you grabbed your clothes and started to put them on. Feeling ashamed that this was probably a one time thing, and things could become uncomfortable now.

"Thanks bye." He said as he hung up the phone and looked to you with a suspicious smirk. "Well looks like my next appointment won't be coming."

"Really?" Squeaking out as he stood in front of you pulling your body into his placing your hands on his chest.

"But I know someone who will be coming." A hand coming down hard on your ass making you squeal.

#chris evans #Chris Evans smut #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans imagines #chris Evans oneshot #chris Evans fic #chris evans fanfiction

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗

hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3

You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.

He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.

Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.

He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.

When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.

And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.

You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.

He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.

So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.

Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb.

You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.

But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.

It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.

You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.

So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.

It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.

But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.

Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.

He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.

He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.

You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.

“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”

The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”

“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”

You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”

“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.

You meet his smile with a grimace.

“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

You don’t answer him, just shrug.

“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.

That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.

“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”

Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.

Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.

Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.

He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.

Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…

Eddie tries not to smile too wide.

“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.

“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.

“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.

Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.

“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”

You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious.

Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.

“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”

He laughs when it makes you laugh.

“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face.

Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself. “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”

“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”

“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”

You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.

You hope he keeps his promise.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles

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her-power · 4 months

Text

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today.

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently.

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago.

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard.

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her.

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is.

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.”

“Is that all?”

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.”

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down.

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.”

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.”

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.”

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do.” I tell her.

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about.

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties?

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot.

Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school. I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class. I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write. I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could. I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season.

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums.

Please don’t feel obligated, though.

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number.

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply.

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose.

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill.

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight.

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show.

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching.

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans.

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.”

“What?” She snaps.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head.

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar. I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself.

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta. I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money?

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins.

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap. It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice. I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips.

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed.

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink.

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.”

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” He asks me.

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?”

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it.

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up.

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking.

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can.

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?”

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over.

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing.

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now?

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?”

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.”

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.”

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?”

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well.

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot.

My phone dings and I see your name pop up. Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people.

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled.

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip.

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole.

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern.

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you.

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you.

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee.

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly.

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.”

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert.

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them.

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?”

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.”

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch.

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away.

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down.

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?”

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.”

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another.

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly.

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying.

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love.

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.”

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?”

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.”

Heart exploding.

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?”

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.”

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you.

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?”

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee.

Yeah, I missed you too.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #rockstar eddie munson #Spotify

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whowantslovergirl · 3 months

Text

You Stupid Bitch

Maddy Perez x reader (gender not specified)

warnings: cursing its euphoria yk, nate jacobs the homophobic gay woman beater, talks about the abuse, reader being an awesome person, somewhat happy ending, and yea! don't forget to smile!! ^ this means start the song 💋

euphoria masterlist

Summary: Maddy can't see that the perfect one for her is Y/N

posted: January 27,2024

Almost everyone knows how toxic Maddy and Nate is. If you don't know anything about their relationship you basically live under a rock.

The person who knew the most was Y/n a timid person but with a loud personality that's why Maddy and them got along so well.

It even got to the point where everyone thought they were a couple and only Y/n wishes for such a thing.

Because they and everyone else believes they are perfect for Maddy.

Except Maddy. ^

You let the wrong people love you

But you don't see that, do you?

When you cry and need my comfort

I drop everything to come over

Nate fucked up again and Maddy is paying for it again.

They were in her room making out and her phone kept ringing. It was this guy that was like obsessed with Maddy.

Nate saw it, got angry, threw stuff like the man he is, Maddy started crying, Nate didn't care, and blah blah blah. He left and Maddy is still crying and immediately texted you.

You were doing homework and a project at the same time when you got a text.

Maddy <3

can u please come over need ur comfort again??

You immediately went to her house.

The homework and project is due next week anyway.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You were over at Maddys again trying to her calm down. "He's such a cunt Y/n! I did nothing fucking wrong!" You were quick to agree and still trying to get her to calm down.

"Just count to ten and try to breathe babe." You call everyone babe so of course Maddy isn't gonna find anything weird with the nickname.

She slowly started to calm down. "Thanks Y/n I can always count on you. You're literally my soulmate." She smiled and pulled you into a hug.

If only she said that out of a romantic love instead of a platonic one.

Maddy is your soulmate.

But she's too fucking dumb to see that.

"Anything for you Mads."

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

the perfect one for you is me?

You and Maddy were taking a walk around the block. An old couple was walking the opposite way and they saw you guys.

"Oh well you guys are the most beautiful young couple l've ever seen!" The old lady says with a smile.

Before you correct her Maddy was a little too quick to jump to the opportunity.

"Oh we're not together I have a boyfriend." Yea for two more days, is what you wanted to say but the old lady just apologized and said

"Well I can tell the one you have now is not the one."

Literally everyone knows it but her.

You don't know what you deserve

And that's why you end up hurt

But you never listen

Take my advice as criticism

"Maddy he doesn't deserve you!" You and Maddy were arguing over the fact that Nate is a piece of shit. You think she doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of plastic but she believes that he’s just broken and needs someone to help him.

“You don’t known him Y/n! He needs someone to help him!”

“Yeah a fucking therapist! You shouldn’t have to pay for his actions Mads!” She just shook her head. “He treats you like shit! Every time something happens he storms off like a fucking bitch. He doesn’t care about you, Maddy. He just knows you will never leave him.”

“He does care Y/n! He’ll kill for me and I’ll kill for him. You just don’t know what true love looks like because you’ve been treated like shit in all of your relationships!” You knew she didn’t mean that so you just brushed it off.

“You don’t know what you deserve Maddy and when he puts his hands on you, which he will, don’t come crying to me!” You stormed out of her room and she heard the door slam and immediately started crying.

Her mom, who heard the whole thing. Just stared at her. Maddy looked up wondering why her own mother is not comforting her.

“Tienen razón Maddy. Puede parecer amor verdadero, pero es todo menos eso y muy pronto lo verás tal como es.”

(They are right Maddy. It may feel like true love but it’s anything but that and you will see him for who he truly is very soon.)

Then make the worst decisions

She went back to him but you weren’t surprised in any way. She can be stupid if she wants, you stopped caring.

You saw her the Monday after the fair and you guys made eye contact and she looked pale and very tired. She was also dressed in a turtleneck, since when did she wear a turtleneck in hot weather. Then it hit you.

‘I knew it, he fucking choked her.’

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

When you see Maddie having a breakdown in the cafeteria and only Cassie comforting her at school you can tell she needs you. Really bad.

So you go over and just sit down and hug her. No questions asked. And she gladly accepted the hug and just cried into your shoulder.

“It’s alright Mads.”

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

After Maddy had your comfort. She’s been on you like crazy. Trying to kiss you and all. You thought this is what you wanted but not like this. Not after Nate.

“Maddy please. Just chill out.” You said trying to pull her arms off you. and she’s still trying to kiss you and hug you.

“You know your the best ever right? Even better than Nate.”

This is fucking bullshit.

Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth

Just count to ten and try to breathe

You stupid bitch, can't you see

The perfect one for you is me?

Another shitshow with Nate and Maddy. You’re honestly sick of this shit.

You gotta tell her how you feel.

_____

“Maddy I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“You know what Maddy! This fucking hot and cold shit. I’m done being the therapist.”

“If it was that serious why did you keep doing it?!”

“Because I was in love with you Maddy! I was fucking in love. But now I’m not so?!”

“What do you mean you’re not?”

“I mean I’m not Maddy. Bye.” You walked out and just left her.

You never felt so fucking free.

The perfect one for you is me

You stupid bitch, can't you see

She just couldn’t see you were perfect for her and will continue to get hurt. But you’re okay with that.

The perfect one for you is me?

An: GOT MY SHIT CHECKED but the spacing looks weird so I don’t know how to fix tht BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED

#my lovers on top #spotify #euphoria x reader #maddy perez #maddy perez x reader #euphoria

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

Text

Sometimes, usually, when I’m struggling mentally with something, and the brain weasels take hold, I worry that I don’t actually have ADHD and somehow manipulated my therapist into giving me a diagnosis because I’m an evil, trash person who needs a cover for being a lazy piece of shit who just needs to try harder.

Then I catch myself making gluten-free waffles because I was hungry and found out there was only one left in the freezer. So I break out all the ingredients to make gluten-free waffles, and I realize, hey, this leaves me with enough eggs to make meringues; I should make those too while I’m dirtying up the kitchen, and so I can throw this egg carton away. It’d be a shame to waste the egg yolks, though, so I should probably make custard too. I can turn it into ice cream for later. I should clean the ice cream machine while the waffle iron heats up. Oh, hey, that's where my glasses went. Oh, you know what, I should leave the masa out and make tortilas for dinner...

Meanwhile on the other side of the kitchen unattended:

Id: a gif of a cluttered kitchen. From left to right a medium-sized milk pan sits on the stove; a faint glow underneath indicates that the burner is on. Next to it a medium bowl sits with a whisk handle protruding over the lip. Next to that a red kitchen stand mixer is in mition, whisking the contents of a stainless steel bowl. Beside that an even larger bowl sits with a spatula protruding from the top; it appears to be filled with batter. On the far right next to the sink a waffle iron steams gently. End id.

Buy Joy, someone will likely ask, what about the waffle in the freezer? Did you get food?

Ahaha. No. No, I did not.

Did I get distracted thinking about making this post instead of getting a snack even after realizing this?

... God fucking damit.

#adhd #adult adhd #food mention #executive dysfunction

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iiiiiiis-things · 11 months

Text

Guys I was watching victorious and the scene where everyone eats licorice from Cats bra IMMEDIATELY made me think of Y/n, Hobie, and Pavitr , also i have a strong belief that Pav is in LOVE with sweet tarts especially their ropes 😭‼️

warnings-eating candy from a bra, poor British slag (google is my friend), mention of breasts ?

"Jesus i wondered who pissed in his cereal" you mumble as you pav, and hobie we're currently walking to the cafeteria, the three of you just came back from miguel's "office" and being scolded after failing to stop a villain in another dimension.

"The wanker could've gave us a little credit, we almost had the guy" Hobie speaks flailing his arms up "That's what i'm saying! we were so close, we would've caught him if someone wasn't on their phone" Pavitr agrees giving a straight up side eye to you as you role your eyes "My mom was asking where I was, if I hadn't responded I would've been grounded!" the three of you finally renter the cafeteria strolling over to the table you guys normally sat at in the corner, as you guys were walking Hobie swipes a bagel "getting grounded for not being at home is bonkers" he speaks stuffing almost have the bagel in his mouth as you and Pav watch in amazement, and disgust "gross- and yeah, how do u think i feel being a super hero and having a strict ass momma" finally reaching the table pav sits down first and u sit next to him "yo, where you going?" the two of you watch as he ends up retreating back to where you guys had just came from "bagels!" he shouts turning his back towards the table.

"anyways, we should take this time talk about your weird obsession with candy" Your friend turned to look at you "what do you mean my obsession?" you begin pouring a bag sour patches that came out of no where in your mouth "where did- where did that come from?" Pavitr asks looking you up and down looking for a pocket or something the sweet item could've fitten in "you really wanna know?" u raise an eyebrow and smile, his cheeks turn color just slightly as his mind start to think about all of the weird places that could fit random pieces of candy.

"aye i'm back, i got us some shit" Hobie sits down on the other side of you with a mini plate of bagels, a fat bag of plain lays, packets of hot sauce for the plain chips (in which he learned from you), and three sodas "how the hell did u carry all of that?" you squint as he gently lowers the plate then proceeds to basically drop everything else "his long ass arms that's how" the indian boy surprisingly curses "so what were you guys talking about?" hobie asks stuffing yet another bagel in his mouth sliding the two bottles of soda to the two of you "Pav said that I have an obsession with candy" you speak grabbing the bag of chips "oh yeah i've been meaning to talk to you about that" he swallows "told you" you roll your eyes "oh so now y'all ganging up on me?" hobie groans at your exaggeration "that's not what we said, you know it seems like every time we're out you have some type of candy on you that's comes out of absolutely nowhere!" pavitr defends

"thanks again spider woma-" the innocent man u just saved from a burglar looks up at you as sit there mask lifter above ur nose as you munch down on an airhead "uh huh anytime"

"y/n what the actual fuck?" miles asks as you bring out a bowl of only lucky charms marshmallows for breakfast"

"this is NEWSNEWSNEWSNEWS reporter Margret speaking to discuss Superhero Spiderwoman delusional candy obsession, there being multiple reports and sightings of the female heroine eating a kit kat mid patrol-"

"Y/n that's when you-" miguel stops explaining the plan he had set out for you and gwen staring at you scarf down a whole snickers bar "what the f-"

you sigh in defeat "yeah mate, where do you even- never mind" Hobie stops himself from getting in detail about how and where exactly you store your candy "maybe you should see the spidey-therapist about this?" Pavitr suggests "therapy? about candy? yeah right" you shut him down "I'm just saying that all of this candy isn't healthy, your my friend and i care about you, I don't what you to-" "hey pav?" you cut the him off "if i give you a piece of sweet tart rope would you shut up?" asking you turn your head to see him making a zipper motion along his mouth. You then seemingly unfasten your actual zipper down the middle of you costume just a tad as you pull out a long rope of tangy strawberry goodness from the between your breasts "Hobie your scissors" you gesture your hand as he pulls out a sharp ass pair of scissors, he cuts a piece and you hand it to Pavitr on the other side of you turning back to Hobie he cuts another piece for himself, you then put the rest in your mouth, the three of you chewing in silence- enjoying the warm bra candy.

#across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar x reader #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #pavitr prabhakar #y/n #victorious #cat valentine #jade west #andre harris #just a thought

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Photo

Title: New Hire [3]

previous chapter

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: 👀 i know we’ve all been kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop with Ari and Kitten, so here we go! i’m working two jobs now, so i don’t have a lot of spare time left over to write—as a result, i kind of went waaaaaaay overboard with this chapter. i split it into two, just for ease of reading, so i really hope y’all enjoy! floral divider by @firefly-graphics

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

“I’m not leaving till I see my daughter!” You can hear your father’s raised voice clearly, like he’s yelling at you from inside the car rather than the driveway. Ari’s stern hand on his shoulder seems to make him even angrier.

“So what, you got her locked up here like your own little toy, and what? No fuckin’ ring on her finger, I’ll bet,” he sneers, and it’s like you’re seventeen again. Seventeen again and listening to him tell you you’re used and ruined because you’d let the Baker boy come sniffing after you—

“Liam we’re going to go inside.” You hate the way your voice shakes, the way your stomach clenches with old fear. As you turn around, you try to swallow down the panic so that Liam doesn’t see it on your face. “And we’re not going to look at, or talk to the man outside, okay?” You repeat it like you heard it from your therapist when you’d first left your father. Don’t engage. You don’t owe him anything. You are your own person.

You are free.

“I don’t like that man.” Liam says quietly from the back seat as you unbuckle him. “He’s scary.”

“Yes,” you agree, glancing at the man in question over your shoulder. “He is.” Liam clamors over the middle console and into your arms. You don’t want to stay in the car, listening to him shout. You take a deep breath, gathering what little courage you feel, and pull on the door handle. Immediately, his cursing fills your ears while you cover Liam’s with your hands, steering him quickly towards the stairs.

“Oh, there she is,” he snarls. “I taught you better than that, you little bitch! Abandoning your responsibilities to this family, all so you can sit on some Alpha’s fucking knot—”

“Enough!” Ari’s voice is like a clap of thunder. His huge hands are knotted threateningly in your father’s shirt. “You come here like this, you fucking threaten my mate—” He bares his teeth angrily. “How’d you even fucking get in here, you slimy piece of shit?”

“I’m here because Peter-fucking-Quill sent me,” he spits, and your chest goes even tighter at the name. “On account of you fucking his mate.”

“What?” It’s your voice that acts as a knife through the tension, and both men turn to you. You know Peter Quill—or, well, you knew him. Before things had gone bad at home, turned sour like milk left out to spoil, and you’d had to switch schools—because your fancy Catholic school was too much money—you’d played with Quill. He was only a year or two older than you, but he was always… kind, for lack of a better word.

You never thought you’d hear that name again.

“Then he needs to come himself.” Ari’s voice is low, barely above a growl. His shoulders are stiff and squared, his knees slightly bent like he’s ready to soak a blow. “Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s my mark on her neck.” Ari shoves your father, and he stumbles back a few steps. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot messengers. But it is fucking tempting.” Trembling, you begin to lead Liam up the stairs.

“You tell Quill he’d better send someone more fucking qualified next time.” You hurry inside, one of Ari’s men holding the door open for you as they usher you inside. Faintly, you can hear Ari, his orders mixed in with frustrated swears.

“King, you mind telling me what the fuck you were thinking, letting him get past the goddamn gate?”

You’ve never seen this many people in the house before, men in black, guns bulging under their clothing. The man Ari called King’s gaze flicks around nervously before settling on you. Ari sees it too, and almost immediately, his hostile posture softens.

“Kitten, why don’t you take Liam upstairs?” He turns to you with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be up in a little bit, I know that was… scary.”

“I…” You have questions—so many questions. “But Ari, he—”

“Upstairs, Kitten. Now.” His voice brokers no room for argument, bordering on an Alpha command that your body jumps to follow. You spare one last look for the strangely crowded kitchen, and then take Liam’s hand and lead him up the staircase to the second floor. You put out a few of his favorite coloring books and games to distract him while you go change your clothes.

Your feet begin marching in the direction of your old room, and it’s only when your hand rests on the brassy doorknob that you remember it isn’t your room anymore. You stand there in front of the door, your hand hovering over the knob. So much has changed in the past three months, and you wonder if they’ll ever stop changing. It’s like you’re at the center of a whirlwind, and each time you get your bearings, you’re whipped about by the storm until you’re just as lost and confused as ever.

Three months ago, leaving your father’s house had been the hardest, most confusing thing you’d ever had to do, but you had done it, and you had done it by yourself. You’d navigated the help wanted sections of every newspaper, typed out your resumé on the ancient library computers, all for your father to find you again.

It’s okay to start over, that’s what Dr. Nicholson says. It’s okay to do things over until you get them right. You wonder what she’ll think of these new developments as you force yourself to turn around and head down to the other end of the hallway, towards Ari’s room—your room. You’d missed last week’s therapy session—it isn’t like you could show up with Ari still knotted inside you. The thought makes your face heat hotter than a stove-top, and you bite your lip against the embarrassment.

You’re due for another session in a few days, and you’re actually looking forward to it, to being able to decompress and just talk without fear of reprisal. As you shrug out of the sundress, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to see the neat ring of teeth marks sunk permanently into your flesh.

Ari is proud of how clean his bite is, you know it—you can feel it through the bond when his teeth slide home like keys into a well fitting lock. You remember running your fingers over your mother’s own mating mark as a child, the flesh knotted and bumpy to the touch, like your father had torn into her like an animal. A shiver runs down your spine as you recall his words—

Peter-fucking-Quill sent me. On account of you fucking his mate.

You weren’t mated before Ari—the smooth, unbroken skin above your mating gland had told that truth far better than your mouth ever could. So what had he meant by that? How could you be Peter’s if you were already Ari’s?

Your body is still singing with tension and unresolved anxiety, winding you tight like a spring as you search through Ari’s cavernous closet for something to wear. The possessions you do have feel meagre in comparison, like you’re a pauper dressing up as a prince. You emerge from the closet wearing shorts and a button up shirt—one of Ari’s—tucked into the waistband.

When you poke your head into his room, you’re pleased to find that Liam has only made a moderate mess, having somehow managed to get into the finger paints that you keep having to hide in increasingly difficult to reach locations. He looks up at you with a wide, gap toothed grin, and holds his masterpiece up for you to see. His little hands are stained green, and you expect they probably will be for the next four to six business days, but your heart still melts as he brandishes his paper proudly.

“Look, I painted everybody,” he replies, bouncing excitedly on his toes. He peeks over the top of the paper, and then back up at you. “This is daddy—he’s going to work, that’s why he has his suit on. And then, then there’s me, and right here is you!” He taps the paper again, for emphasis. You giggle, taking the paper gingerly.

“Wow, Li, this is amazing! Is that my dress?” You ask, looking down at him as he puffs his chest out with pride. “This is so good! You know, I bet dad is going to want to hang this up somewhere,” you say conspiratorially, and he laughs, before his face falls a little.

“What if he doesn’t see it?” He kicks at the rug. “Dad’s always working.” You can almost hear the sound of your heart cracking open at Liam’s innocent admission.

“You know what, let’s go put this on the big mirror in the bedroom. That way he’ll be sure to see it, okay?” You hold Liam’s hand as he leads you down the hallway, and the two of you hunt for scotch tape to hang his painting as you strain to hear what’s going on downstairs. It’s useless, the walls are too thick and well soundproofed for anything but the barest murmur of conversation to make it through.

As you’re finishing up taping Liam’s drawing, a shudder runs through you, your hairs standing on end. Alpha is looking for me. You don’t know how you know it, but you do, like feeling eyes on your turned back.

“Dad!” Liam’s exclamation has you turning to face the large figure in the doorway. Ari doesn’t stop him as Liam goes crashing into his legs, and he scoops up his giggling son, ruffling his hair. “I drawed something for you.” You move out of the way, stepping aside as Ari sizes up Liam’s masterpiece.

“Li, you know we’ve got to frame this, right? You’re just a regular Picasso.” It’s like you’re watching Liam’s confidence grow in real time, a pleased expression gracing his little features, though you doubt he actually knows who Picasso is. “Is this what you guys were doing while I was working?”

Working. You still don’t really know what Ari even does, though you don’t doubt that he’s important. All the men downstairs, Ari’s fierce demeanor… the answer plays at the edge of your consciousness, but you don’t grasp for it, too afraid that you might be right. As Ari chats with Liam, you excuse yourself, wandering down to the kitchen to get some water. It’s like no one was ever there, and if you hadn’t had to drag Liam through a veritable sea of men in tac gear, you might have thought you’d imagined it.

You can’t help but peek out of the front door, just to make sure your father is really gone, that he isn’t just lying in wait outside to ambush you again.

“Thought I would see what was taking so long, Kitten. You know Liam won’t start the movie without you,” Ari rumbles, his breath ghosting across the shell of your ear. You whirl around, almost dropping your glass.

“Ari, I… I just wanted to see,” you admit. “If he was gone.”

Ari’s lip curls, his eyes narrowing. “He’s gone. I made sure of it.” He pulls you against his chest, burying his nose in your curls with a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry.” The apology falls timidly from your lips before you can stop it. It’s a force of habit more than anything, the desire to placate before it becomes a problem. “I… I don’t know how he found me, I-I did all of the things Dr. Nicholson told me to, I—” Ari cups your chin.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” His calloused fingers are gentle on your face. “You did the right things. It’s not your fault.” Your fingers tangle in his shirt as Ari rubs soothing circles on your back. “He found you because he went to Quill, baby.”

“Quill?” You dredge up the image of him young and roundfaced from your memory. It’s easy to tell Ari is… reluctant to continue this line of conversation. You can feel his discomfort prickling in the back of your skull through the bond, but more than that you can see it written plainly on his face.

“I’m not sure how you know him,” Ari says lowly, “but Peter is a… business associate of mine. Was.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How do you think your father got that nice new house on the good part of the island? How he got those debtors to stop calling? He went to Peter, Kitten. And he made a deal.”

Your head is spinning. The answer is right there, but for some reason, you refuse it.

“A deal?” You repeat the words dumbly.

“For you, Kitten. He promised Quill you.”

—

You’re restless that night, tossing and turning until Ari pins you underneath him with a stern, sleepy grunt. He can’t stop your mind from spinning though, and you don’t sleep until the sky outside begins to turn pink.

Your father had sold you—like cattle. Traded you when you’d become useless to him.

What kind of parent does that?

Your dreams offer no answers, only more questions. When had he offered you up like cattle? And what kind of man accepted a person as fair trade? You know your father has never been good with money—even before your mother died. Your chest goes painfully tight at the thought of her. You wish your mother was here, now more than ever. You can��t help but wonder what she would make of all of this, if she would approve.

In the morning when Liam wakes the two of you up with far too much pep, you’ve only managed to struggle through a few hours of sleep. He chatters excitedly about his dreams and you do your best to listen, nodding eagerly as he describes the superpowers he’d used to save the universe. Ari rolls over onto his side, and you don’t miss the way his eyes rest heavily on you, his full lips pulled into an easy, satisfied smile.

He scampers off to pack his backpack for the day—one of his favorite activities, even over summer break. Ari’s hand settles on your thigh, warm through the thin sleeping shorts you wore to bed.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, Kitten.” It’s an observation, a statement of fact. Embarrassed that he remembers your sleepy grumbling, you duck your head, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you awake,” you tuck an errant curl back behind your ear. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about everything.” Your stomach churns again as you recall your father shouting at you from the steps outside, his eyes bright and frantic. I hate him.

You hadn’t ever actually thought it consciously before, how much you despise the alcohol soaked man who’d showed up to shame you only yesterday. I hate him.

It feels like his arrival has started something, put things in to motion that you can’t see, things you don’t understand. But Ari does. You can practically feel him gearing up for something, something big—readying himself. Ari’s beard rasps against your cheek as he leans in to kiss your temple.

“He won’t be back.” He says it with such conviction it’s hard for you not to consider it an absolute truth. There’s an unspoken threat that sends a shiver down your spine, one that speaks to the roughness that lurks just underneath the placid, casual mask that Ari wears all the time. You’ve already seen it slip a few times—at the amusement park, with your father. It makes you wonder what he’s really capable of.

You can tell he wants to say more, that the conversation isn’t quite done yet, but the shrill ringing of Ari’s phone cuts through the moment like a sharp knife. He reaches for it, irritation written in the downturned corners of his mouth and narrowed eyes. He gives you one last, distracted kiss before sitting up, the sheets pooling at his waist.

“Yes?” You can’t hear the person on the other end of the line, not clearly, but you can tell they sound upset—frantic, almost. “Slow down, Drysdale. I said slow the fuck down,” Ari growls into the receiver, dragging a hand down his face. “Quill sent what to Fowler?” You still at the mention of Peter, but Ari taps your ass sharply with the palm of his hand, and you squeak.

“Business,” he mouths at you. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Though you aren’t pleased about being effectively dismissed, you scoot off of the edge of the massive bed and pad towards the shower. Liam is downstairs, and you walk into the living room just as his improvised karate routine is finishing up.

“Look how high I can kick!” He says loudly, lifting his leg up the way you know they’d taught him in his karate class.

“Liam no!” You’re too late, his little foot intersecting with one of the framed photos on the coffee table. You wince at the sound of breaking glass before rushing over and sweeping the errant six year old off of his feet to check for cuts. Sheepishly, Liam clings to you, embarrassed tears leaking down his little cheeks.

“No cuts, right bud?” You ask as you turn his hands and feet back and forth, squinting as you look for shards of glass. “Nothing hurts?”

“N-no, but…” he trails off, pointing at the shattered frame. It’s a nice picture, Liam up on Ari’s broad shoulders as the two of them grin widely at the camera. You’d taken that picture—at Liam’s birthday, just a few months before. “I broke it.”

“Yes, you did, but what’s more important is that you’re okay,” you say, wiping the errant tears from his chubby cheeks with your thumbs. “Dad can always get a new picture frame.” Your humor doesn’t deter him, however, and Liam looks at the stairs nervously. You place Liam carefully on the couch as you sprint into the kitchen to grab the broom and dustpan.

“He’s gonna be mad at me,” Liam sniffles, rubbing at his red rimmed eyes as you clean up the mess.

“That’s not true, pal. Dad’s not going to be mad—”

“He is!” Liam insists. “That’s his most favoritest picture in the house, he said so!” He’s getting worked up now, his cheeks splotchy and red as he becomes more and more upset. Frustrated tears begin leaking from his eyes again, and you feel your chest go tight.

“Liam, I promise dad isn’t going to be mad,” you say placatingly, setting down the broom to rub his back as he sniffles. “Would it make you feel better if we got another one?” The mall isn’t far away, certainly close enough for the two of you to pop over and be back before Ari even notices you’re gone. “We can go get him a new one so he won’t feel sad, okay?”

This seems to be an acceptable compromise to Liam, who nods tearfully. “Okay.”

Of the several cars sitting in the garage below the house, you select an unassuming black Wrangler, making sure to buckle Liam into his seat before climbing into yours. It starts up easily, and you shoot a quick text to Ari—one you’re sure he won’t even see before you’re back—before taking off. Liam is singing some kind of made up song to himself as you pull out into the wealthy suburb that Liam and Ari—and now you—call home.

The mall parking lot is as crowded as it usually is, and you hold Liam’s hand tightly as you navigate between the cars. Still, he tugs on your hand impatiently, eager to get inside. He hasn’t been on a real outing since the amusement park—your face burns hot at the memory—and it shows, with Liam bouncing excitedly on his toes as he drags you into the mall. You make him wait as you squint at the map, looking for the bright red You are here!, labeled at the bottom entrance.

“It looks like there’s a nice frame shop this way, Li. We can go pick out something cool for dad.”

“Okay!”

Though the frame shop is distinctly not an environment for six-year-olds, Liam handles it like a champ, using his “inside” voice the way you’d taught him, and handling the delicate glass with care when he dares to pick something up. Like his father, he seems to be rather choosy, squinting at several picture frames before dismissing them.

“What about this one? This one’s cool.”

“That’s not cool,” Liam says decisively, turning his nose up at the one you hold in your hands. You stifle your own laughter as you imagine what Liam thinks cool is. I don’t think they have any frames with Spider-Man on them. “This one, this one!” He holds up the gilded gold frame excitedly, standing on his tippy-toes to show it to you. “I like this one.”

“I like this one too, Li,” you take it from him gingerly, holding it up to the light. It really is pretty, something you could see sitting in the spot the other picture had occupied. “Lets take it up to the register.” As you wait in line, Liam begins shuffling his feet, darting out to grab things from baskets near the register before putting them back. You’re honestly amazed Liam’s attention span has lasted this long, and you don’t fault him for his boredom. So when he pulls on your arm and points to the ice-cream booth just outside the store, you nod.

He’s just right there. I can see him.

You turn back to the line, playing anxiously with the heavy black card Ari had given you the day before. You haven’t used it yet, but then again, you haven’t needed to. You glance over your shoulder as the person in front of you finishes up. You can see Liam’s little blond head as he bounces excitedly, waiting his turn in line.

“Is this all today?”

“Y-yes, that’s it, thanks.” You turn back around embarrassedly, placing the card on the counter with a sharp click. The older woman behind the register runs it before handing it back, and you watch her begin to wrap the frame in newspaper.

“Your son is adorable, you know, so cute,” she says, and your cheeks warm. You’re not sure how to respond, how to parse out the complex nature of your relationships in a way that is easy to understand—mostly because you don’t understand it yourself. In the span of a week you’ve gone from nanny to step-mother, from employee to mate, and the transition still has you reeling.

“Yes, he is.” You manage a weak smile as you turn to scan the crowd for him again, looking for the soft, wavy blond curls that denote his presence by the ice-cream stand.

But you don’t see him.

The panic that seizes you is immediate as you turn fully, eyes wide as you search the crowd again and again—but come up empty. The cashier’s voice is nothing but a dull drone in your ear as you push through the people behind you.

“Liam? Liam!” There are people stopping to look now, their attention only adding to your distress. He was right here, I just saw him, he was right here—You feel terrified tears beginning to gather in your eyes as you call for him. “Did you see a little boy? Blond, blue eyes, he’s missing his front tooth?” The man behind the counter looks at you helplessly.

“I, I mean I think so, I’m sorry, it’s just so busy—!” You try to calm yourself, wiping at your eyes as you continue looking, your purchase at the frame shop completely and utterly forgotten. It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like you’ve been looking for hours, wringing your hands as you jog through the mall.

Something gold catches your eye, and you turn towards the main doors. There’s a man in black, all black, his clothes bulky and ill fitting—reminiscent of the way Ari’s men had looked yesterday. The outline of the bullet-proof vest under his shirt is clearly visible, as is the large hand wrapped around Liam’s tiny forearm.

“Liam!” You’re barreling towards him before your body even has a moment to register that you’re moving, and you slam into the man’s back with your shoulder. He lets out a surprised, pained shout as Liam sobs your name. “Let go! Let him fucking go!” You’ve never fought anyone in your life, but you feel grim satisfaction as you rake your nails down the man’s face and smell the coppery tinge of his blood under your fingernails. It’s his surprise that allows you keep hitting him, raining blows down all over his face and chest as he tries to shield himself from you, cursing.

“Get off me! Fucking crazy bitch—” He shoves you off with a snarl, and you scramble over to Liam, panting as you put yourself in the way, shielding his smaller body with your own. Adrenaline has you on a tightrope, unable to move or blink as you watch the man get to his feet. The world around you rushes back in to your ringing ears—there’s someone saying to call the police, another group of people attempting to block the exit, to hold the man here—but you can’t process any of that.

You turn to Liam tearfully, running your hands through his hair and over his face. He presses into your chest, his little arms going around your shoulders as he sobs uncontrollably, snot and tears running into your hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rock him back and forth, your eyes still wide as you stare unseeingly past him. The relief is almost as big as the fear, and with both of them swirling inside of you, it’s impossible to calm down.

“I-I-It-w-was s-s-so s-s-scary,” Liam’s words are barely discernible through his tears. There are people talking to you—at you, really—but you don’t have the bandwidth to respond, only clutching Liam tighter when anyone approaches, like a feral animal. All you can focus on is Liam, keeping him pressed to your chest as you try to analyze every possible new threat.

Keep away, your hindbrain snarls, and you feel your own lip curl to mirror it. Baby’s not safe, not safe! You’re dimly aware of mall security attempting to detain the man who’d grabbed Liam, the sound of sirens—

“Kitten.” And then there’s Ari, kneeling in front of you as he cups your chin, strokes your hair; checking you over in much the same way you’d done Liam only minutes before. “Kitten can you hear me?” You nod numbly, still holding tight to Liam as Ari tries to pry your fingers loose. “Good, baby. You did so good, protecting our boy.” His hands are gentle as he helps you stand up. You can’t explain the rush of warmth that fills you as you inhale his scent, the deep sense of comfort that washes over you as you begin to process his nearness.

Alpha is here.

Safe.

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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 months

Text

Weekly Recap | November 27th-December 3rd 2023

Usually I schedule these to post around 4-5 PM EST, buuuuuut I just finished this and I don't want to wait. Here's a little midnight treat! Enjoy!

Complete

🔥 like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): Evan gave up trying to explain what happens to him after his parents forced him to have a talk with one of their friends, supposedly a pediatric therapist, and cruelly hinted that if Evan didn’t stop seeing and talking about his “invisible friends” as if they were real then his parents would send him far away to places where they lock children up in padded rooms. “Look,” Evan says quickly, forcing out the words before he gets too scared to speak,” I—I know this is going to sound crazy, but, um, ever since I was a kid I can see ghosts.”

🔥 baby, you were my picket fence by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S6, Proposal | 6K | Teen): or Maddie wants to propose to Chimney. She gets Buck involved. Buck can't tell anyone. He somehow proposes to Eddie instead

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

love like woven thread by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Eddie Begins | 1,8K | General): Aka the one where Eddie is a clothes thief and Buck kind of loves that about him. (Part 1 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

wear your heart on my sleeve (I'll protect it) by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Shooting | 1,7K | General): The return of clothes thief Eddie, from Buck's POV this time. (Part 2 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

hold you in my arms (wrap your soul around me) by renecdote/ @@renecdote (Established Buddie | 4K | Teen): The one where Buck buys Eddie a hoodie and Eddie has a lot of feelings about how family shaped they are. (Part 3 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

a most constant heart by renecdote/ @renecdote (Proposal | 1,5K | Teen): when Buck put the ring in his pocket, he forgot to account for the fact that his boyfriend is a clothes thief. (Part 4 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

the quiet of your love (after the day’s loud strife) by renecdote/ @renecdote (Married Buddie, Hurt Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck is hurt, Eddie looks after him. (Part 6 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

holding pattern by renecdote/ @renecdote (Married Buddie | 2K | Teen): Buck volunteers to fight wildfires. Eddie stays home and worries. (Part 7 of Clothes thief Eddie my beloved<3)

a hundred little pieces by renecdote/ @renecdote (Post-Tsunami | 3K | General): The tap is bloody, the sink stained red, paper towels wadded up and abandoned in it, soaked with blood, and Eddie can taste his heart in his throat, sour and metallic, because he’s doing the math and—shit. Kitchen + blood + blood thinners = only bad things. (Multiplied by Buck, which equals Eddie’s blood pressure jumping through the roof.) (Part 1 of in your hands (my heart))

into the gravity by renecdote/ @renecdote (Getting Together | 6K | General): In which Buck takes care of Eddie. (Part 2 of in your hands (my heart))

wedding bells by renecdote/ @renecdote (Friends to Fiances | 2K | General): The background noise of the movie and the warm weight of his best friend against his side is lulling Eddie towards a nap when Buck breaks the silence. “Do you want to get married?” “Sure,” Eddie answers sleepily. “Fall wedding?” “What?” Buck frowns, and Eddie realises: oh, he meant do I want to get married generally not to him specifically. Then Buck is asking, “Why fall?”

don't leave me like this [i belong to you] by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Getting Together, Post-S5 | 3K | Teen): “Okay, on the count of three we both spill whatever it is we need to say.” And, two things happen at once: Buck manages a I slept with Eddie last night while Chimney blurts out Maddie and I slept together. Followed by; Buck, spluttering Aren’t you and Maddie not together?? and Chim practically howling YOU SLEPT WITH EDDIE?

my fire's waitin' for your spark by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S4, Getting together | 4K | Teen): Buck is pretty sure the universe is out to get him. And it isn't even the possible concussion he’s now enduring or the fear of having to take an extra few days off of work (or the threat of vomiting on the pavement in front of the squad). No. It’s Eddie fucking Diaz still in his turn out gear shoving Chim and Hen out of the way so he can inspect Buck personally.

🔥 i gave your name as my emergency phone call by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S6 | 9K | Teen): “What about his sister?” She asks, eyes back on Eddie. “Or his almost brother-in-law. He can’t call Bobby,” she takes a step forward, arms still tight across her chest, “or Athena or all the other people in your tight little 118 circle.” Eddie stiffens as something hot and wicked licks up his spine. “Buck called—” Me. He cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. His voice sounds harsh and possessive and protective and not at all how it should when he’s talking to his girlfriend of all people. - or buck and natalia break up. he drunk calls eddie when he's out alone

i love you best when you're just yourself by oklahoma/ @forthewolves (Established Buddie, Christmas | 2K | Teen): Buck’s having trouble picking out the perfect tree for his first Christmas with Eddie and Christopher as Eddie’s boyfriend. Eddie puts those worries to rest quickly.

can't pretend it's platonic (it's just ended) by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Exes to Lovers | 2K | Teen): “Isn’t easy a good thing?” Frank had asked the last time, one day before Eddie broke up with Buck, when he was trying desperately to sort out the mess in his mind. “A lot of people describe good relationships like that. Like it feels easy.” “But it feels too easy,” Eddie tried to argue. “Like—calm before the storm kind of shit, you know what I mean?” “What do you think the storm will be?” Frank asked. Me, Eddie thought, but couldn’t make himself say. I’m the storm. I’m going to fuck it up somehow.

If This Is What The Season Is Bringing by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Post-S6, Christmas | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie made a promise after Eddie decided to leave the 118 and they finally make good on it this Christmas.

wanna get married by elless (Friends to Fiances | 1,4K | General): Eddie has a fever, which means his defenses are down, and some truths slip out.

coax the cold right out of me by oklahoma / @forthewolves (Established Buddie, Hurt Buck | 2K | Teen): “You know,” Eddie begins, running his fingers through Buck’s damp, frizzy curls, “when I booked this cabin for the weekend, I had plans for us to fuck real nasty by the fire.” Buck laughs—an ugly, congested noise that sounds like it hurts when it gets caught in his chest—and tips his head back to meet Eddie’s gaze in the low light of the blazing fire. His big blue eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red, hot by the fire and chapped by the wind; he looks like a kid, almost, sitting on the floor and wrapped tight in a large, black fleece blanket with nothing beneath except a pair of boxers and fuzzy socks. “Well,” Buck croaks, “we’re still by the fire, at least.”

Re-read

🔥 Sunlight is Fire (Burning is a Matter of Degrees) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Incubbi Buck, FWB | 10K | Explicit): In the wake of Buck's leg injury, Eddie learns that his friend needs some unusual methods to help him recover. Eddie's willing to do whatever it takes to help Buck, and it's not like this could make his quiet pining any worse, right?

🔥 Goodwill is Sent in Snapshots (You Only Get the Full Picture on Return) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (The Holiday AU | 14K | Mature): When both Evan Buckley and Chimney Han are dumped at the start of December, they decide to swap houses - with each other. A nice two weeks in a different location will be a great unconventional Christmas. Certainly not anything life changing. Then Buck meets Chim's next-door-neighbor, and Chim meets Buck's apartment-crashing sister.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, FWB | 15K | Explicit): Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #911 fic #epic buddie fic rec

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