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chaoticharrington · 22 days

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Chapter Two: The Ticket and Your Shitty Car

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst (sorry folks), mentions of anxiety and bullying, cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being sexy, kissing 👀, Reader is in their mid 20s and Steve and Eddie are in their early to mid 40s. Lemme know if i've missed anything.

**THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM/ASK FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3**

Summary: After a few weeks of getting closer to Eddie and Steve feelings bubble to the surface

Authors Note: I'm so excited for this chapter and the rest of the series i've been having so much fun writing this! I've never written angst before so i'm interested in the response it'll get! And I pinky promise ya'll are getting smut in the next chapter 😈 7k words

**Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four**

A couple days had gone by since your first interactions with the two men that have been plaguing both your waking thoughts and your dreams. You’ve woken up more than once this week from your body buzzing and your panties soaked through. Lips on skin, rough hands on your hips, deep voices whispering in your ear. Groaning yourself fully awake and grabbing your vibrator to finish the job, that isn’t nearly as good as whatever was happening in your dreams.

Because of these dreams it made it impossible to look at Steve during class, only looking when you absolutely had to. Avoiding Mr. Munson was a bit easier, he either wasn’t home much when you were with Violet, or he was in the garage. You convinced yourself that you would just eventually get over your little crushes, and if you just avoided them long enough then things would go back to normal, and you’d have your sanity back.

But things didn’t quite work out that way. After you had gotten your ticket on the first day, you decided you would just pay it off yourself, to avoid another possibly embarrassing interaction with Steve. You had your parking pass now so you wouldn’t get another ticket. But you had a busy week with assignments and kept forgetting to take care of it. By the end of the week, you had completely forgotten about it, until Fridays sociology class. It was a normal class; Steve was talking about the theoretical approach to sociology. At the end of class, you were supposed to hand in your paper on Social Darwinism, you had spent many late nights making sure that this paper specifically was perfect. The problem was that when you were meant to hand it in at the end of class, you couldn’t find it, and you were starting to panic. Almost all the other students had left or were in the process of handing in their papers and you were left anxiously digging through your bookbag.

“Oh, how the tables turn, need some help there?”

You freeze, looking up from the familiar black converse that you could see next to your bookbag. Your anxious eyes are met with playful honey brown ones, that make you relax slightly.

“Sorry no I’m good I know it’s in here somewhere,” you reply a little anxious. You didn’t want your professor to think that this was any reflection of you as a student or your work ethic.

Steve watches you dig through your bag for another few seconds when you finally find it, in a folder you don’t remember putting it in. When you get the folder out of your bookbag, the ticket sitting at the bottom of your bag falls out onto the floor right at Steves feet. You’re too busy to notice, trying to make sure all of the pages of your paper are in order, and you have all your sources. When you finally look up from the papers in front of you, you see Steve holding the ticket that you got on the first day of school.

You panic and look up and into his eyes, he doesn’t look mad, but he looks confused. “I thought I told you I’d fix this for you if you ever got a ticket. Why didn’t you tell me?” he said.

“I- I didn’t want to bother with you something so silly, I was going to pay it, but with a bunch of papers due, I just forgot I’m sorry,” you blurt out.

Steve raises his hand to silence your apologies casually, and you’re ready for him to yell at you or at the very least be disappointed in you.

Shit, why did you not just pay it the day you got it?

“It’s not your fault honey, there’s no need for you to apologize, okay?” he says warmly. Your shoulders relax a bit more, his voice giving you reassurance.

“I swear I really did mean to pay it, I just didn’t want to bother you,” you confess.

Steves eyes soften. “Y/N you are never a bother, plus it's my fault for being the worst teacher in history and not giving you a parking pass.” He jokes.

“Steve you’re one of my favorite teachers, nowhere near my list of worst teachers.” You reveal.

He smiles widely and raises his eyebrow; you swear you can feel your insides thaw. With the playful look on his face, he almost seems younger, you could only imagine how attractive he was when he was younger, even just a glimpse is enough to make your stomach do flips.

“Oh so there IS list? Well, I demand to know where I am on your favorite teachers list, maybe it’ll give me motivation to try harder in class.” He winks at you in retort. You swear you could cum in your pants right now, how dare he be so beautiful and perfect, and funny.

You think hard for a second, you can’t put him first you think his ego probably couldn’t handle it, also it would just bring you more embarrassment. But he very easily is your favorite teacher, he makes jokes during class, makes sure his lectures are easy to understand and enjoyable, and seems to genuinely care about all his students, it’s very hard to rank any teacher above him.

“I hope your ego can handle it Steve, but you’re second.” you gush.

“You wound me, SECOND? That’s basically failure I demand to know who could possibly rank higher than me?” he jokingly stands up straighter, adjusts his tie, and holds his hand to his heart.

Damn, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Uh, Professor Buckley, my Gender Studies Professor, I love her class,” you confess.

Steves eyes couldn’t roll farther back into his head even if he tried, you almost worried that they’d get stuck.

“You’re telling me, my best friend has already won you over? I’ve sat in on some of her classes and there is no way that Robin is funnier than I am!” he exclaimed as he puts his hands on his hips.

“You know Professor Buckley.. er Robin? Also, you definitely top her in the funny department, how did I know you wouldn’t be satisfied with second.” you retort easily. You could get used to this, the casual flirting, smiling with your professor, it felt easier than breathing. Once you got over the fact that he was one of the most handsome men that you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

“Know her? She’s been my best friend since high school, and a major pain in my ass. Second place is basically losing, everyone knows that babe.” The pet name slipped off his tongue so effortlessly.

Your eyes must have gone wide because Steve looks slightly embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck.

Babe babe babe babe babe babe babe HE CALLED YOU BABE

“Well then I guess you gotta step it up Professor.” you reply, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He smiles at you gratefully, “yeah I guess so,” he chuckles.

“Anyways I don’t want to keep you again for the second time this week, I’ll see you in class on Monday Steve.” you say as you go to stand up and walk past him. You’re about halfway to the door before you hear him call out.

“Hey, wait up, uh why don’t you come with me to my office so I can get that parking ticket taken care of for you,” he explains.

“You sure? I don’t want to make you late for your next class.”

“I’m the one who got you into this mess, please let me help you fix it?” he asks gently.

“Lead the way professor,”you answer playfully.

He smiles that flashy Steve Harrington smile and shows you the way towards his office.

“It’s just down this hallway,” he shares.

Then you feel him put his hand at the small of your back guiding you into a room on the righthand side, his touch lights your body on fire. It takes everything in you not to lean into his touch. You can smell his cologne, now that you’re so close to him. It’s a fairly clean scent with hints of musk and spice at the end, a more modern scent then you expected from a man his age. It only makes you want him more, to lean in closer and smell his scent mixed with the cologne.

You’re snapped out of your daze when Steve picks up the phone receiver and punches in a phone number. His fingers almost covered the buttons on the phone, and it made your legs squeeze together, thinking back to the multiple dreams you had about those specific fingers all over you. Steve looks up at you smiling lightly, surely just trying to fill the silence that filled the room. You hoped he hadn’t magically learned how to read minds in the short walk from his classroom to his office or you’d be toast.

His office wasn’t anything glamorous, it was an average size, with a nice desk and comfy looking chair, and big window with a view that overlooked the campus. The only thing making it uniquely his are the loads of pictures of him and Professor Buckley, and a few other guys and girls that looked around his age or maybe a bit younger. Documenting various birthdays, weddings, and get togethers.

While Steve is on the phone you take a moment to look at them, you see a picture of Steve being Professor Buckleys best man in her wedding to a pretty woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They all looked so happy, it made you smile, it looked like a really special day. Also noting that there are no wedding photos of him or pictures of him with a girlfriend, making your heart internally soar.

When you finally tear your eyes away from the photos, you hear the end of a conversation Steve is having with someone on the phone.

“Thanks again Reg, I promise it won’t happen again. Yeah, you too, take care. Say hi to the wife and kids for me," he said.

He puts down the receiver and looks at where you’re standing, and gestures to the photo you’re looking at.

“Yeah, Robins wedding! It was a really great day,” he reminisces. He goes onto explain that Robin ended up marrying his ex from High School, Nancy Wheeler. You smile and nod along to the anecdotes he talks about that day, trying to absorb everything he tells you about his life like a sponge.

“And by the end of the night Lucas and Max lead everyone in a impromptu sing-a-long to Never Ending Story, It was hilarious,” He says. You could combust, you can see just how clearly he loves his friends and how much they mean to him. He shakes his head and smiles wide at the memory, his smile being infectious, you smile back at him.

“Sounds like really good time Steve,” you reply.

“Yeah, it was, it really was.” he shares, he seems a little lost in thought for a moment before smiling up at you. “Sorry I don’t mean to bore you with my stories of the old days, I don’t get to gush about the people I love very often, so its nice to have someone listen," He confessed.

Your heart melts, he’s such a sweetheart. “No no please, I enjoy hearing them, makes you more a person than just my teacher. Plus, maybe at some point you’ll slip up and tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Then you’re done for Harrington,” you jab.

He raises his eyebrows at you and looks impressed. “That’ll never happen, I’ve never done anything embarrassing in my life ever,” he states sarcastically.

“Well, I’ll just have to ask Professor Buckley, my favorite teacher, about it won’t I?” you interject.

His face goes from his handsome boyish grin to fake terror in a split second, “I will give you whatever grade you want in my class if you don’t do that, she’d go on for hours, might even keep you after class just to rub it in my face.”

You could tell that there was some truth to his words, and you know your gender studies professor well enough to know that she really would just rip him a new one. You giggle back at him, unable to keep it in.

“She really would tear you to shreds, wouldn’t she?” you cackle. His face softens, “Yes she’s evil, just awaiting my downfall I swear!” he smiles softly at you.

You both look at each other a bit longer before Steve clears his throat. “Anyways um, I talked to the guy in campus security and you’re good to go, you don’t have to pay the ticket,” He spoke.

You had honestly completely forgotten that was the reason you were even in his office; his demeanor makes you feel at home in your own skin and were just happy to not have anxious thoughts rolling around inside of your head.

“Oh, right yeah, thank you so much, you really didn’t need to go through all this trouble for me,” you said.

“No trouble at all, really. I should probably get going though, my next class starts soon.” he explained looking at the very expensive looking watch on his wrist.

You try your best not to show your disappointment, wishing to stay in this little bubble with him a bit longer.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you again Steve,” you respond.

He leads you back out the door with his hand on your back again, maybe this time a bit firmer than the last, and you weren’t complaining. You both wave your goodbyes for the weekend before you head out to the parking lot, and he heads towards his next class.

You were relieved to be going home, this first week of school has tested you mentally and emotionally and you were ready for a little break. You hop in your car, and twist your key in the ignition, but to your surprise, instead of your car roaring to life like it usually does. It just stalled, unable to start. You try the ignition a few more times before you rest your head on your steering wheel.

Just your fucking luck

You take your phone out of your jean pocket and call Violet to see if she knows any good mechanics in the area. But you only get her voicemail. “Come on Vi,”you mutter to yourself, trying her cell again and again. Only to get her voicemail each and every time. You couldn’t very well leave your car in the parking lot overnight, then you’d surely get another ticket. But what other option did you have?

You make the decision to call Violet’s home phone, thinking maybe she’s too engrossed in a TV show or something to see her phone going off. It rings a few times before someone picks up.

“Munson residence.” a deep familiar voice answers the phone.

Shit

“Hi Mr. Munson, is Vi there?” you reply.

“Nah she left about an hour or two ago to head to work, everything okay?” he asks a slight concern in his voice.

“Oh uh yeah, my- my car just isn’t starting and I don’t know any mechanics in the area who could come and take a look at it,” you respond anxiously

You hear what you assume is him blowing out some smoke from his mouth, you shake your head trying to stay on track.

“Any mechanic out here is gonna charge you an arm an a leg to come look at your car right before the weekend, let me come and take a look at it myself,” he suggests.

Your body runs cold, you couldn’t deal with another interaction with BOTH of them in the same day again, you’d burst into flames.

“Oh gods no that’s really okay Mr. Munson. I’ll just leave my car here overnight its no big deal, I’ll just walk home its not that far,” You babble anxiously.

You hear him scoff on the other end of the phone, “What do you mean walk home? Where are you Y/N?” his tone getting a bit more serious than the lighthearted goofy tone you usually get from him.

“I’m at school, it’s fine really, my apartment isn’t that far from-,” you squeak.

“Let me just grab my tools and I’ll meet you in the parking lot, which building are you in front of?” he interjects, you can hear some rustling on the other end of the phone.

“I-,“ you think about arguing with him but you know that in the end Mr. Munson is a stubborn man and you will lose. “I’m in front of the Humanities and Social Sciences building, its right by-,“ you confess.

He chuckles “Oh yeah I know the one, be there in a sec, hang tight.” he says before hanging up the phone.

You bring your phone down onto your lap in defeat. You hide in your car until you see his car pull up, you don’t need anyone seeing you, especially a certain sociology professor. His big black truck pulls into the space next to you, and you get out of your car to greet him.

“Hey thanks for coming all the way out here, I hope I didn’t take you away from anything or anyone,” you look up at him innocently. He stands about a foot away from you, but even then, you could see just how much taller he is than you. He could probably use you as an arm rest.

He gives you an easy-going smile, “No problem at all sweetheart, I’m happy to help!” You give him the keys and he goes to try and start the car and it stalls again and he clicks his tongue.

Your mind going back to the dreams you’ve had of his tongue on you, on your skin. You shiver at the thought, and you squeeze your arms around you willing yourself not to fall apart.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with opening the hood and looking inside. He takes off his leather jacket and lays it on top of the hood and rolls up his sleeves. He fiddles around inside of the hood for a few seconds before popping his head around the corner.

“Looks like your spark plug is shot, I have an extra on me in case of emergencies, it’s your lucky day pretty lady,” He announces cheerily.

Pretty lady

“Oh, thank you Mr. Munson, you’re a life saver!” you beam.

He looks at you again one more time, studying you for the second time this week, he looks like he’s contemplating something in his head. His eyes are like lasers on your skin, heating you up from the inside.

“It’s Eddie, you can call me Eddie honey, you’ve known me long enough.” he says as he smiles at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

You can’t help but smile back, “Okay, thanks, E-eddie,” you stammer out. His name feeling so odd on your tongue, he’s your best friend’s dad, would Violet think its weird that you call him by his first name now?

He smiles contently like he made the right decision and goes back to working on your car. You lean against his car just watching him work, seeing how his hands knowingly move on all the parts of your car that you don’t even know the names of, only being able to identify the windshield wiper fluid cap and oil fill cap. You look at his now uncovered arms that you didn’t see the last time you got a good look at him, you could see right near his left wrist Violets name tattooed in beautiful cursive, and D20 right above his left elbow. You see how veiny his hands and arms are, probably due to years of playing the guitar and working on various motorcycles and cars.

“So, what are you going to school for?” he says, looking at you through the corner of his eye while he works.

“Psychology mostly,” you reply easily.

“What do you want to do with it? Your degree?” he responds.

“I’d love to work with kids, I felt like no one ever listened to me as a kid, so I’d love to be able to be a safe space for kids to express themselves.” You shared, this was something you’ve been passionate for a while, wanting to work with kids. Giving them something that you never got when you were a kid, a place where they felt understood even if they didn’t feel like that at home.

He looks up at you from his work with an impressed look on his face, “That’s really fucking cool Y/N, I wish stuff like that had been around when I was a kid. Woulda made Middle School and High School a lot more bearable for me, trust me.”

Your heartbreaks at his confession, you figured that he probably wasn’t always the suave sexy metal head that he is now, and he probably got teased a lot when he was a kid. It reminded you of your own experiences in school, teased and never really fitting in anywhere. Violet went through something similar except it never really seemed to bother her, she was always the type of kid that always knew who she was and didn’t let anyone get in her way. You always admired that about her.

“Honestly me too,” you confess.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you, “No way, You and Vi had loads of friends in Middle School,” he says.

“Yeah, in Middle School sure, but high school was brutal without her there, kids are mean.” You say sadly, rubbing your boot into the asphalt trying to wash away depressing memories of eating in the bathroom and crying yourself to sleep at night.

Eddie scrunches his eyebrows together and nods knowingly, sharing that feeling. “Yeah, teenagers are fucking assholes.”

You nod knowingly, as Eddie steps around the front of your car to get into the driver’s seat, scootching closing to you, grabbing the side of your waist as he passes you. You take a shallow breath, and your mouth runs dry. His hand felt so perfect on your waist, like it belonged there… and then your mind wanders to Steve, his touch felt the same way.

Eddie got into the front seat and turned your key in the ignition, and sure enough your car roared to life.

“Huzzahh!” Eddie cheered, getting out of the driver’s seat and bowing to you. A smile plastered across his face in triumph.

“There ya go honey good as new, although you should stop by the house sometime, so I can put a new battery in your car, it looks like it’s about to take a shit on you, and I want you to be safe during the Winter.” He says casually wiping the oil and grease off his fingers with the rag in his tool kit.

He wants you to be safe

“That would be great, thank you again, honestly I don’t know what I would have done without you. What do I owe you Eddie?” you ask. Surely, he’d want some compensation for driving all the way out here on a Friday, probably ruining his plans to come help his daughters best friend with her car.

“On the house, and don’t fight me on this I’m not accepting any money from you.” He says slightly stern but in a way that makes you smile lightly.

“I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you or something, do you like cookies? I’ll bake you some cookies for all your help,” you insist.

“IF you happen to make double chocolate chip cookies and bring them over to the house, for Violet of course, I wouldn’t say no to one or two,” he says slyly.

“I’ll bring them over this weekend.” you say determined to not be in debt to him.

He packs his tools back into the trunk of his truck and shrugs his leather jacket back on, “I’ll hold you to that sweetheart.” he winks at you before getting back into his truck and waving to you as he drives off the lot.

You get back into your newly fixed car and drive home to your apartment, first thing on the agenda, a very cold shower.

The next few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind of epic proportions. Steve came back with your grades for your latest paper, and when yours got passed to you, at the top of your paper, “SEE ME AFTER CLASS” was written in blue pen. After class he explained that he was “very impressed” with your work and effort you spent on your paper and asked you to be his TA and help him a couple of days a week. Help him with grading papers, answering any questions your classmates had on assignments or class subjects, and help with lectures for upcoming classes. You couldn’t have said yes faster, not only did you have a huge massive crush on him. But you genuinely enjoyed his class and were excited to prove yourself. On those days you spent most of the time after your classes, spent huddled in his office with him grading papers or talking about different upcoming subjects you were going to learn in class. It was becoming one of your favorite parts of your day, you always left his office in the best mood. Plus, the flirting and your attraction to him only grew during this time, you noticed he started going more and more out of his way to touch you, or holding eye contact with you longer than was probably appropriate. You welcomed it, Steve made you feel like you were on cloud nine, some nights the two of you were left in his office until after dark, after all the work was done, just flirting and talking about life. Eating shitty takeout food that he’d grab from the cafeteria or the two of you would order in.

He always treated you with respect letting you talk about your feelings or whatever was on your mind, you eventually opening up to him about why you wanted to go into psychology, and he opened up to you about how he hadn’t always been the way he is now, and how there are parts of his past he’s ashamed of. The two of you bonded over your lack of family you had in your life, you told him about your parents basically ditching you after graduation and he told you about how his parents cut him off when he told them what decided what he wanted to do with his life and hadn’t heard much from him since. He reassured you that the only family that actually mattered was your chosen family and the people who love you that you let into your little corner of the world. You talked about your views on the world and your dreams. You liked that about him, that he listened to you and how modest and genuine he is, you assumed at first glance that someone with good looks like him and his upbringing he’d have an large ego. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but not in a bad way. You’d come to really like Steve Harrington, he had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match.

Which made it even more confusing on the days that you didn’t spend in his office. See you had saved up enough money for school and your expenses for the first couple of weeks, but that money only stretched so far. So, you looked for a job, and you became desperate. Being in a college town, good jobs that weren’t already taken by other college students were far and few between and being a TA wasn’t enough. So, one night after school when you were at Violets, Eddie overheard you talking about your dilemma, and offered you a job working for him. Eddie worked as a record producer and worked closely with a few music managers who were looking for social media manager. Which you happily accepted, there were no set hours and you could do a majority of your work in your pjs at home unless you needed to get Eddies opinion on something then you’d spend time out in the garage with him while he gave you advice or things the label is looking for in terms of the clients image or engagement numbers you needed to hit.

Sometimes you’d even make up excuses just to go over and spend time with him in the garage. He was patient with you while you slowly opened up to him about things that had happened over the past few years that you never wanted to worry Violet with, cheating boyfriends, bad friends, financial problems, and he took it all with stride, listening to and giving advice where he could. He’d spend time reminiscing about the “glory days” when his band, Corroded Coffin, used to play gigs every weekend at the hideout, a small bar on the outside of town. Or when he was in high school, he ran a club in school called the Hellfire Club where all his friends would play DnD, he even showed you that he got Hell Fire tattooed across his knuckles. You’d spend hours over there just tucked away in Eddies little corner of the house, sometimes he’d play songs for you on his guitar, or when he found out you had never played DnD he spent a few nights teaching you all the basics in case you ever wanted to play. You liked the way you felt when you were around Eddie, in a similar way that Steve did, Eddie quieted your thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety that usually swirled around in your head. You really liked Eddie, and it made your feelings even more confused because you felt guilty keeping all of this from Violet. You didn’t know how she would react to you having a crush on her dad, and you never wanted to put your friendship with her in danger. She was basically the only family you had, and you intended to keep it that way, even if it meant keeping your crush on her father a secret.

It all came to a head about a month later. You were staying late in Steve’s office grading papers while he was reading over some scientific studies that he was going to go over in class that following week. You were reading over a specific paper, a girl who sat behind you in class, who giggled at Steve during the first day of class. She had a lot of typos in her paper, and you had a hard time following her methods and asked for Steves opinion. He got up from his desk and went over to the other side of his desk where you were sitting, hovering over you so his face was close to yours. You loved when he did this, being able to see the honey bits in his eyes or the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he was thinking really hard, or how he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them.

For some reason the air in the room seems extra electrified, the tension being so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your breath hitched as he got extra close to read a specific part in the paper, you could smell his cologne so clearly it was intoxicating. Steve turned to you to tell you what points to dock from her paper, but you didn’t hear a single word he was saying, it was all drowned out by the lust you felt for him. You think he could sense it too, his eyes kept flickering between your eyes and your lips.

Oh gods was this really happening?

You could see his face getting closer and closer to yours, you closed your eyes, bracing for impact. Your heart was beating faster than you ever thought humanly possible. And then, he kissed you. More intensely than you’d ever been kissed before, he started out soft, testing the waters. Slowly brushing his lips against yours, working up intensity until his tongue prodded your lips asking for an invitation in. The invitation happily accepted by you, you welcomed him in with your lips and sighed into the kiss, allowing your hand to grasp at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He held onto the side of your face like if he let go, you’d vanish. You kissed like this for a minute or two, lips melding together and tongues intertwining. He tasted like his spearmint gum that he chews sometimes, and his lips were softer than you ever thought humanly possible.

But as quickly as it started, it stopped. Steve de-tangled himself from your grip and stood back.

“Fuck, holy shit, I- Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your teacher for Christ’s sake… FUCK!” he shouted.

You jump at the volume of his voice, you were not used to this Steve, or the tone he was using. He paced around the room for a few minutes, and you looked at your shoes embarrassed. Embarrassed because you weren’t sorry it happened. You had been dreaming for weeks about what his lips would feel like or what he'd taste like.

“I’m not Steve, you don’t need to be sorry because.. because I wanted it to happen, I’ll only be your student for a few more months and then after that we can do whatever we want,” you blurt out in desperation. Allowing the thoughts and dreams that hide in your head to spill out of your mouth. Steve sighs and sits back down in his chair, taking his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb.

“I- I think you should just go Y/N, I need to figure out what to do. This shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry it did,” he murmurs.

His words act like daggers in your heart, stealing all the breath from your lungs. All the worst-case scenarios that played out in your head when you felt insecure, now playing out right in front of you. You were angry, you know he feels the same way but he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it.

“Fuck you Steve, fuck you!” you bite out through your teeth, not allowing the tears to flow from your eyes, just yet. He just rejected you, the last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry. You pack up all the things that had been splayed-out all over Steve’s desk, shoving them into your bookbag, and storming out of the room.

Before you’re even out of the building the tears start streaming down your face, you choke back sobs as you get into your car. You bury your head in your hands, your shoulders shaking from how hard you were crying. You can’t go home, you thought. Not to an empty apartment where it’s even more apparent just how alone you are.

You put the key into the ignition and go to the only other place in town that you can think of going to, Violet’s house. You prayed to any god that could hear you, that Violet was home, but Eddie was not. You did not want him to see you like this, especially over a guy. He’d heard all the pathetic stories of love that hadn’t worked out you didn’t need to add another to the list.

Somehow luck was on your side with this, Eddie’s car was not in the driveway, only Violets. You get out of the car, not even bothering to lock it and run up to the door and let yourself inside with the key Violet had given you after your first week in Hawkins. Tears still streaming down your face, you take in your new surroundings; Violet was sitting on the couch watching some dumb rom com and eating popcorn. She looks startled by the sudden intrusion and the state you were in. Your mascara all smudged, and you had tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N? What happened?” she coos. She gets off the couch and walks over to you, her face softens when she gets closer to you, her face now shrouded in worry. She pulls you fiercely into a hug and just lets you cry on her shoulder. Eventually she brings you over to the couch and she gets you to tell her the events that have unfolded. She listened intently while you told her about your professor and how you felt about him, and then about how he rejected you after a mind-blowing kiss. She held your hand the entire time, rubbing soothing circles into your hand.

Just as you had finished telling her what happened you heard the familiar jingle of the doorknob and the heavy boots that followed. You couldn’t look at him right now, not when you looked like this.

“Hey, hey party people, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight I shoulda got more beer from the store!” Eddie sang. The closer Eddie got to you he realized something was off and stopped in his tracks.

“Now’s not a good time dad,” Violet said, still focusing her attention on you.

“What happened? Y/N are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen with your car?” his questions flying by you a million miles a minute. Too exhausted to say anything you let Violet speak for you.

“She kissed a guy at school, and he rejected her,” Violet says as softly as she can.

“Y/N kissed a guy at school?” he said, you could hear an edge in his voice that made you flinch slightly.

“Yes, dad god did you have to repeat it? She’s been through enough tonight. Come Y/N lets go upstairs.” She says clearly annoyed with her dad’s lack of empathy.

You couldn’t bear to look at Eddie, so you allow Violet to usher you upstairs into her room. You two cuddle up in her bed, she lets you borrow some clothes to spend the night in and gives you a makeup wipe to wash the mascara and mostly cried off eyeliner off your face. You felt so taken care of by her, you remember you used to do this for her in Middle School when boys would be shitheads to her, it took a lot to break Violet, but boys are the worst.

At some point Violet fell asleep when you guys were listening to a true crime podcast, you felt your tummy grumble and slowly slipped out of her room to find a snack in the kitchen. You were so worked up after the incident with Steve you had forgotten to eat something more than a few handfuls of popcorn. Downstairs was more quiet than usual, you couldn’t hear soft metal music coming from the garage or Eddies light humming. You assumed maybe he had gone out for the night.

Until he scared the shit out of you sitting at the kitchen table, silently. He looked upset, nursing a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Holy fuck you scared me, warn a woman, jeez!” you say, sounding a little more like your normal self when your alone with him. Usually, Eddie would retort with a smart-ass remark, but instead you got silence and a slight sad smile on his face. You sense he’s not in the mood, so you move farther into the kitchen to grab yourself an iced tea from the fridge and make yourself a sandwich.

It was usually never this awkward between the two of you, it broke your heart a bit. You just lost Steve and now it felt like you were losing Eddie too.

“Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?” he asked quietly.

You jumped a little not expecting him to speak. Trying to word things very carefully so there was no confusion.

“He kissed me and then I kissed him back, and then he broke off the kiss and told me to leave.” You sigh sadly and take a big gulp of your iced tea.

“Idiot.” he muttered under his breath.

You thought that’s what you heard but you didn’t know for certain.

“What?” you question.

“I said he’s an idiot.” he said a bit louder for you to hear clearly.

That made your aching heart flutter inside your chest. Men are impossible to read.

“Oh.” you murmur, not really sure what to say.

“He’s an idiot because I’d never let a girl like you go,” he says calmly.

You heart could beat outside of your chest right now, his words set your skin on fire. But you were simultaneously hit with overwhelming guilt. Violet. Your best friend. The one sleeping soundly upstairs who would never do anything to hurt you.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot more at stake here,” You say trying to tread lightly.

He abruptly pushes out of his chair and heads to the garage door. “Yeah I know.” he says, sounding a mix between disappointed and angry.

You could feel a new rush of tears welling in your eyes, not only did you lose Steve today, but you were going to lose Eddie too. Two out of your three safe spaces, gone in one day. You felt so small, like you were free falling and you couldn’t grab anything to save yourself.

“What do you want from me Eddie?” you say defeated, barely above a whisper.

Eddie stops at your words, opening up the door to the garage, so close to freedom. His eyes now soft, seeing the state of you. “Nothing sweetheart, I want nothing from you.”

You just nod at his words, slouching your shoulders trying to protect your broken heart. Willing yourself to accept the fact that you lost both of them today, and there’s nothing that you can do to change it. You look at the floor, watching your tears slowly cloud your vision. You just hoped he left the room before you start actually crying.

Then you hear the garage door shut and feel the last of your heart shatter with it. You look up to confirm what your heart already knew, that Eddie was gone.

But where a closed door should be, showed the outline of Eddie standing in front of a closed door. You tried to blink away the tears, to try and figure out if you were seeing things correctly. The look on Eddies face was between a mixture of pain and confliction, his fists squeezed at his sides.

“Fuck it.” is the last thing you hear him say before he takes long strides over to you in the kitchen. Now right in front of you he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you firmly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to stay. His calloused hands wiping away your tears. You moan into his touch, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to dance with yours. He kisses you with such passion, showing you with actions he what couldn’t say with his words. You push him impossibly closer to you, willing the two of you to meld into one if that what it took, not letting him have the chance to leave you. He takes that as an invitation to lift you up and put you on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Your legs caging him in on either side of his body.

“Please don’t go.” you mutter wetly between kisses. Eddie moves from your mouth and leaves kisses from the edges of your wet eyes to a part on your neck that made your skin irrupt in goosebumps.

“Never baby, m not goin anywhere I promise.” he reassures nuzzling his nose against a sweet spot on your neck. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling a little better than you did a minute ago. Kissing Eddie made every other rational thought cease to exist in your brain. Just you, and Eddie, your bodies moving in tandem with each other. Harmony.

***Reblogs/comments are appreciated***

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space-mango-company · 2 months

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Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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lurkingshan · 1 month

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10 Things I Love About Only Boo!

*kicks down the door* I'm a few weeks late but I have arrived and I am here to yell about this fucking adorable show. Have you heard that it's the cutest shit you've ever seen in a fresh new package of all your favorite silly old romance tropes? Besties, this is truly the Sunday Serotonin we need. Here are the top 10 things I love about it:

The main romance is between a confident sunshine protagonist and a kind older boy working through his grief and an artistic block. Mok (Moo) and Kang are such nice boys, two cinnamon rolls too sweet and pure for this world, and I loved them instantly. They have a nice crackly chemistry between them and really solid communication right from the start.

The setting is rural and refreshing. Moo moves to Nakhom Pathom to attend school for a semester because his mom wants him to focus on his studies before she will allow him to pursue a career as an idol. Little did she know she was delivering him to a cute boy who would become the new distraction.

The crushing and flirting starts immediately, and it's mutual. They just like each other, man. Kang is (slightly) older and trying to be responsible about keeping Moo focused on his studies so he's putting up some token resistance, but it's very very token. They both find excuses to keep seeing each other after they meet.

There's a side couple with a long-term pining friends to lovers arc. The way I squealed when they revealed that photo wall. I support you, Payos, you will get your boo. These two also have a lovely, easy chemistry and seem so comfortable around each other. Their characterization also gets a fun twist in the beginning of the story.

The writing is strong and assured. This was written by the same screenwriting team as Cooking Crush, aka the best written original Thai bl of last season. These folks know their way around a smart romcom. They know how to deploy classic tropes so they feel fresh, build authentic character arcs, and make all the beats of the story feel confident. We are in good hands and don't need to worry about any out of left field conflicts or weird plot turns with this one.

A fresh new cast brings a ton of energy. I really love all four of the main actors for this show. They're young and bright and breathing some new life into an old formula. And both pairs have solid chemistry and seem comfortable in their scenes together.

Some of our old favorites are here too. They've made the smart decision to bolster the young main cast by surrounding them with more experienced seniors like our lady Milk, here playing Kang's friend and neighbor who is all up in his crush on Moo. Louis and Book are also going to show up at some point.

The show incorporates music and dancing in such a charming way. Moo is one of those kids who just has to dance, and the show mines a lot of comedy around his efforts to stifle the impulse as his mom ordered. I don't think he'll hold out for long, though, because Payos and Tae are on him to train with them. And of course the music supervisor is having a great time working in some classic GMMTV music gags (yes, Love Score and Too Cute To Handle both make memorable appearances).

It's a high school story brimming with youthful energy without being mired in immaturity. The tone of this show reminds me of My School President in the best way, in that it has all the sweetness and innocence of a high school romance without making the characters so immature and bad at communication that it's annoying to watch. As expected from the CC writers, these characters may be inexperienced but they are going to talk to each other and honesty will prevail every time.

We are only three episodes in and the romance is already well underway. This is the kind of show where we will see the main pair flirt and date and face obstacles together. The swoony moments started immediately and Moo is already throwing around the faen title. We know from the synopsis that the core conflict will come when Moo is forced to choose between his relationship with Kang and his dream of being an idol, and I expect he will be finding a way around that choice. I'll be strapped in for the ride because I already believe in these two.

#only boo #only boo the series #thai bl #10 things #shan recommends #shan shouts into the void

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theabigailthorn · 1 year

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Surely with how popular you are you would have had a few cancelling attempts, but you're drama free. How? I thought you'd be target number 1 with TERFs.

So the thing is, people on the internet have and do try to wreck my life! But it's true that I get less of it than a lot of other women, and I often ask myself (and them) this same question. I think it comes down to a few factors. In no particular order:

I'm white and thin

I don't post selfies very often

The Philosophy Tube Jutsu: I never use my platform to say anything bad about individuals, so I don't make enemies

I'm British

I don't put my pronouns or the word 'trans' in my bio. I mention it if it it's relevant but to a casual troll looking for someone to go after there are more obvious targets

My brand: in terms of online content, my brand is 'Educational and Compassionate.' I try to be even-handed and listen to all sides and never be angry, and people are maybe a bit reluctant to get mad at someone who does that? In terms of acting, my brand right now is 'I'm Trying Hard and I'm On My Way Up!' which I guess people like?

I have a posh accent

I don't make online content about video games

I'm pretty enough that men like looking at me but not so hot it makes them angry

I transitioned in private before I came out publicly. I knew that when I did I'd get a lot of backlash, so I pre-emptively muted LOADS of words in my comments section and wove a kind of digital safety net

I'm so busy that I often miss whatever the discourse du jour is and don't get involved. As a wise woman once said, 'Do Not Tweet.'

I deliberately dress and present myself as 'classy' in public-facing stuff

Most of my content is scripted, so by default it attracts people who like to sit down and listen

Philosophy Tube is literally all about critical thinking and not taking things at face value. So if a typical Philosophy Tube Subscriber sees a post that says 'I saw Abigail Thorn kicking a puppy down the street!' they're more likely to stop and think, 'What's the evidence for this?' This means that when there are hate campaigns and lies spread about me (and there are, from time to time) my core audience sees through it and sticks around

I have very good mods! Big shout out to all the lovely people on r/philosophytube and all the people who moderate my livestream chats!

I have a social media manager who can look out for hate and pre-emptively guard against it

I don't hitch my brand to other people. I sometimes do little collabs or appear at events with other creators but for the most part I fly solo. That means if another creator blows up or posts something awful I minimise my chances of cancellation-by-association. I'm friends with lots of creators but for the most part I keep it behind the scenes (Learned this one the hard way!)

I'm not a sex worker. Those people get hate like you wouldn't believe - the sex workers I know are the toughest folks I've ever met!

I'm not very fun to bully! I do get death threats and hate campaigns and people make fake porn of me and libel me and all that stuff - literally every day - I just never talk about it publicly so trolls don't get the satisfaction of seeing me get upset. I just mute and block and move on silently. When I have to talk to a lawyer or the police about someone causing a problem, I handle it behind the scenes

Platform size. When TERFs in British media go after someone they tend to pick on people smaller than them, cause they're bullies.

I built my platform slowly, so I've had time to adjust and get used to how it impacts my life

People have tried to cancel me in the past and it's blown up in their faces, e.g. the Trump Transition Tweet Incident and the B*ck A*gel Affair.

To be absolutely clear, a LOT of this is luck and privilege. I'm not trying to blame the victims of online harassment: yes, some of these factors are things I choose to do but not everyone is able to make those choices. It's also the unwinnable game of respectability politics: yes I might get less hate because of the way I dress or whatever, but fundamentally that won't protect me if I get arrested and sent to a men's prison. These things aren't a substitute for a more just distribution of power. There's also this final possible factor:

It just hasn't happened yet.

#The Jutsu #Do Not Tweet #And Still the Brand Endures

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trainsinanime · 6 months

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Your favorite fanfic writer doesn't know (but would like to)

Let's talk about comments on fanfics. This is not meant as a guide or call to action, just a bit of observations. Personally, I always saw it as impolite to ask for reviews or kudos or comments or likes or reblogs or whatever. That's not a rational point of view, it just reflects how I am. And people actually telling others that they have to leave any of this feedback? I've blocked folks over that. In my mind that's not okay. I'm not announcing a change of that, this is not a policy, just some deep-seated mental issues, but I want to write down some more things that have been going through my mind, from the perspective of someone who occasionally writes fanfics. My previous suggestion in this regard was mostly to write some fanfic yourself and see what happens and what you'd like to happen, because it's genuinely fun and I think you probably have more to say than you realise.

But there's also another point here, and that is that your favourite fanfic writer has no idea that they are. If you're anything like me, then it will seem like the great writers in your fandom are obvious. Also, the last time you bought Blåhajs, it ended with you having to flee a smoke-filled subway tunnel. The great stories and great writers in your universe are facts of nature. You read a story and you think, "this is the greatest thing I've ever seen." A story rewires your brain chemistry forever. You keep coming back and reading that one fic whenever the mood hits you. It feels obvious that this story is great. How could it not be?

It feels trite to say that the author of that fic doesn't know that unless you tell them, but it's hard to really understand the feeling unless you've been there yourself. You write a story, but is it any good? Maybe you get a lot of kudos, or maybe very little, but what does either of that mean? Kudos can mean literally anything from "loved this" to "didn't close the tab in disgust". Maybe you just got unlucky. Maybe you just got lucky. What do these numbers mean? What is a good number of kudos? 1? 10? 100? 1000? Should I calculate ratios? How do I know whether people like this?

In light of this, a comment where someone just said, "I loved this", has an almost incalculable worth. A comment where someone says they read this over and over again, or quotes lines they loved, or something? You can't imagine how valuable that is. A while ago someone told me "a couple of us are talking about this on Discord, we love it and we keep repeating our favorite lines". I thanked them, but I was too polite to say, "really? What are they saying? Which are your favorite lines? How many people are there who love it? What are their names? Which lines are the favorite ones, please, tell me!". Part of me still regrets that, because I so desperately want to know! I don't think it was a public Discord and I never heard from the others on it, but just the idea that they're out there and they like my story was so powerful. (By the way, it's not on any account that's linked from here, please don't try to find that comment.)

Now, I firmly believe that you, as a reader, don't have to care about any of that. I know there are people who disagree with me on this point, very strongly in fact, but I don't think it's necessarily your job to care. It's great if you do, and I think a lot of you do in fact care, that's why I'm writing this. But if you haven't thought about that or don't feel comfortable leaving comments or whatever, that's fine, that's normal, and you are in fact part of the majority. Any well-adjusted fic author has found ways to deal with this. They have learned to love writing for its own sake, or they love re-reading their own fics, or they have a couple of trusted friends who like their work, or ideally all three. Personally I was scared of Discord for the longest time, but it really helps with that. One person who you sort of know going "hey that's neat" can outweigh just about anything else. (Still, there will be days when you post something and you won't get a response and that just plain sucks, no two ways about it.)

But if you do care, if you think it's important that a fanfic writer knows what they mean to you, not because of any concern about the wider unpaid fan creator economy but just because of the way their work affected you, then this is important. Your favorite fanfic writer probably doesn't know and/or believe that they're anyone's favorite, and even if they do, a reminder or learning that someone knew found them will make them incredibly happy. And obviously, all of that applies at least just as much to all the beginners with potential that are out there. So if you're wondering whether it's worth it leaving a comment that says how much you enjoyed something: It probably is. And if you shared this with others and they loved it, or if this is your favourite fic, or if you enjoy how original it is, or how well it does your favourite tropes, or anything like that, the writer is going to be so happy to hear that.

A final aside: This obviously applies even more when it's about fandoms, pairings, subject matter and in particular ratings that are considered a bit embarrassing. Writers who write stuff that, say, happens to be E-rated for whatever reason, doesn't matter, will probably get fewer kudos and comments just because people are embarrassed to have their names show up in the Kudos and Comment sections. If that's you, just a note that it is perfectly okay to comment anonymously, or to create a second separate account for leaving kudos on, commenting on and maybe even posting the somewhat more risqué stuff. Now I'm not saying I have one of these second accounts, at least I'm not saying that in public, but it is an option worth considering.

#fanfic #comments

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rayshippouuchiha · 6 months

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Thank you! So here I am to infodump, full of gratitude, and you can post this if you want no problem it's just a bunch of scattered ideas so yeah. Feel free to chuck suggestions at me too! I really don't know what to do with these... building blocks just yet.

Akatani Mikumo is Midoriya Hisashi.

Toshinori gets sandwiches by the Midoriya couple and it turns into an OT3 but that's much later down the line.

Hisashi is a journalist, keeps getting into everybody's business and Knows™ more than he frankly should.

Hisashi is a Cryptid™. But of a different energy from his son who is all lightning-in-a-bottle jittery On The Verge Of Throwing Hands feral sort of cryptid, Hisashi is mostly of this... supernaturally unflappable blank-faced chill entity.

Who keeps spooking people bc No Footstep sounds.

And might possibly be partially mute or just ridiculously soft-spoken bc when he tries to speak at normal volumehis fire-breathing quirk goes ballistic.

Might or might not have bloodline relations to AFO. Origins ambiguous, Inko just literally plucked the (then) teen off a back alley like he was a stray cat.

Also might or might not have more than one quirk, see the probable AFO connection.

Izuku got his mumbling thing from Hisashi.

A cryptid man who seems normal enough except a little off-kilter, like two inches to the left of what's a “normal” man? Weirdo but nobody can pinpoint how or why. That's the sort of vibe I want with this Hisashi.

And some Wack™ backstory lore I came up w for Hisashi, I dunno what I'll do w it but:

Cw: mention of infant murder, bc I'm Me™ and I was thinking about Yotsumegami (it's my favorite game) and how my version of Hisashi would tie in with it.

Yanno how in Yotsumegami “unwanted children” (children with disabilities, the younger of a twin pair or every sibling except the eldest in triplets or higher, etc) would be killed (it's a real historical practice in Japan, mabiki, they called it) or something like that? Would be kinda fun if an offshoot of that variety existed in the BnHA world, even if it's not outright child murder kids would be abandoned, especially in the chaos of the Dawn of Quirks. People who were scared of quirked people would abandon their quirked child, quirkist folk abandoned their quirkless children, it's chaos.

It would be more prominent during the initial chaos, though I guess laws and stuff would've been passed later on to prevent it or at least cut down the numbers— and the practice fizzled out but there's still a few remote rural villages who accept “unwanted” children.

One such secret community could be like, giving the surname “Akatani” (red valley, for the red of spider lilies used in mabiki in times past) to the children that were discarded at their metaphorical door. Do they still practice mabiki? Debatable. But it's like a giant secret orphanage with questionable, cult-like mentalities.

Akatani Hisashi was one of those until he miraculously escaped and tried to survive in the outside world.

Or maybe he didn't have the Akatani surname at first bc nobody in the remote village had any surname but once he got out he might've created the surname as a way to hm, not quite honor but carry his origins into his new life.

(maybe Yoichi was almost mabiki'd too, like I said I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this)

So Izuku gets to grow up w two parents who care a great deal for him. Maybe they move away, resulting in Izuku not having to deal w Bakugou in his childhood. Maybe Izuku makes friends with some other future 1-A classmate.

The Commission keeps trying to track down this one rogue “vigilante reporter” whose name is unknown. And they keep failing because Hisashi (along with his son and excessive gaggle of... comrades? followers? does the Midoriya family accidentally create an organization of rabid info gatherers?) is a certified cryptid.

Izuku has his hands in so many pots. He's a lot more nosey than in canon probably?

Endeavor had better be prepared bc his entire way of life is about to go up in smoke

I don't know why but I just have this very strong feeling that Stain doesn't like Hisashi for one reason or another.

I... wouldn't be entirely opposed to the AU just chucking Bakugou out the window so that he's not in 1-A (or in UA at all, fuck that pomeranian) and instead is replaced by another loud blond...

Fucking Monoma, LMAO.

A lot of the AU is just ?????? for now and most of it is Hisashi backstory but hnnnnng I want to do something with these jigsaw pieces I just don't know what

Also I'll be sending in Hisashi's design in a non-anon ask but could you append it to this ask's answer instead? Thanks!

I adore everything about this!?!?!

Also I didn't get another ask, anon or not, so Tumblr might have eaten it

#RayRambles #BnHA #MHA

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not-poignant · 1 year

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Worldbuilding and Writing Fiction are two separate skills.

Someone reblogged one of my shitposts yesterday (the one about intimidating myself out of worldbuilding) expressing confusion in the tags about how anyone could be intimidated out of writing through worldbuilding too much.

This was kind of baffling to me, because I think I've seen it 50-60 times now, especially with new, ambitious writers who are starting off with deep fantasy or science fiction projects. When you talk to them, they've often sunk months or even years of worldbuilding into the project, but when you ask how far they've come on the fiction side of things, they usually have writer's block, haven't started writing the story, or say they're not ready yet. 'I'm starting soon' is a common refrain. 'I just have a little bit more left to do.'

The main reason for this - I feel - is that worldbuilding and writing are two different skills. Someone who spends 5 years worldbuilding has learned how to get really good at worldbuilding, but that doesn't mean anything about how good their writing will be. Many folks think worldbuilding will automatically make a story better, but sometimes worldbuilding can become unwieldy and stressful, especially in the case of a) entirely new worlds / secondary world fantasy, or b) complex worldbuilding. Definitely not talking about contemporary romance here, lol. (Though no shade to that, I've had a lot of fun worldbuilding for those stories too).

Going from worldbuilding to writing is launching into an entirely new space. If you find writing new stories easy, that won't be a problem for you, in fact you may not even have realised they're too different skills before now.

If you find writing new stories intimidating, sometimes having hundreds or thousands of things about your world to try and constantly remember can feel overwhelming and mess with the executive function needed to start a chapter.

In some cases, worldbuilding can make it much easier to start a story. But it really depends on what you're needing to do. If you're just writing a contemporary story where you need to research two characters and two jobs, you're generally going to be just fine.

If on the other hand, you have the equivalent of a 500 page Wiki behind-the-scenes, it can feel overwhelming very quickly.

New writers fall into this trap the most, I feel. They become accustomed to what worldbuilding feels like, and they hedge on writing the actual fiction, because they just have more experience worldbuilding and keep waiting for their confidence in worldbuilding to become 'confidence in starting the story.' It doesn't work that way. They're different skills.

They might even be better at worldbuilding than writing! But that just means - if they really want to be a writer - that writing is the skill they really need to work on the most. That can be a comfort zone issue too. It can also be a 'only about 5-10% of all this work will ever appear in the story' issue, where folks want to share the worldbuilding more than the characters or plot, and therefore are just not inspired to work on their story. It can be a 'I want this story to be as good as my worldbuilding' issue. It can be a 'I find the worldbuilding part easy' issue. There are lots of reasons people stall out in worldbuilding and then feel intimidated to write the actual story.

This can also happen with established writers who become aware that the more they know about their world, the more they don't know about their world. It can start to feel like - if you write 10 articles for yourself, you end up with 100 more to write. If you write those 100 articles, you have another 300 to write. Worldbuilding never ends. Worldbuilding can be endless, and if you're an immersive writer, you can get lost very easily in the details, or in not knowing what details are critical and what details aren't. (A hint here is that you'll figure that out really fast when you start writing).

Stalling in worldbuilding can be a lot of things, it can tell you that there's something broken in the world, something broken in the story, it can tell you more about your insecurities, it can tell you how good you are at one skill and where you might need practice in another. It's super informative!

But, generally speaking, the advice I tend to give to many new writers is to try not to let your worldbuilding period last too long. Ideally, put a timer on it and see how it feels to start writing your story once the timer has gone off (3 months, 6 months, 3 weeks, put it in your phone or in your calendar, and start the first chapter, or some random scene, once that time is up).

If, after that period of time lapses, you still aren't ready to start your story, something bigger might be going on. It's an opportunity to dig deeper into the situation. And sometimes just ask yourself if you're using the idea of a novel as an excuse to do what you love most: Worldbuilding. If that's the case, there are other jobs you can parlay a solid worldbuilding ability into. It doesn't have to lead to novels. :)

But yeah it's super super common for many writers to stall out between worldbuilding and writing, and to feel overwhelmed by their own worldbuilding.

New writers get affected by it the most based on observation and hanging around writing forums, and the advice that gets asked quite often specifically on 'when do I go from worldbuilding to writing the story,' but established writers experience it too, because as Gene Wolfe once said to Neil Gaiman: "You never learn how to write a novel, Neil. You just learn how to write the novel you are on."

#on writing #on worldbuilding #dodgy advice #worldbuilding and writing are two different skills #and writing one novel in one world #doesn't necessarily teach you how to write another novel in another world #likewise worldbuilding doesn't teach you how to write the novel that will follow #it just gives you a lot of meat for the structure itself #some folks don't notice a difference and never realise they're different skills #some people just notice that worldbuilding makes things easier #and for the rest of us it can definitely be a mixed bag

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isimpoveryou · 2 years

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max verstappen x reader

fc: lily rose depp

{𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓}

Is Red Bull Driver Max Verstappen finally moving on from Actress and Model Y/n L/n with his now new beau Kelly Piquet

Is actress and model Y/n L/n and Red Bull Driver Max Verstappen have finally called it quits?! You heard us folks our favourite couple confirmed that they have called it quits for months before this picture was everywhere on the internet.

Not only that now Max Verstappen new beau has been posting pictures of him with caption "I'm glad to have you @maxverstappen1" by the pictures of Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet a lot of fans has been speculating that Max Verstappen was cheating at Actress and Model Y/n L/n with Kelly Piquet. Here are what both Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n fans had to say.

@cherrycolay/n So you're telling that this dude been cheating on my wife WITH HER?!?!

@max.verstappen NOOO MY FAV COUPLE 😭

@livelaughy/n bro wtfff if i was mf max verstappen i wouldnt fucking cheat on THE Y/n L/n. Like if i was him i would have already have gotten on one knee.

@f1_maxv1rstappen i love max but not cool not cool at all

I mean us enews aren't all suprised at all because a few months back in december Y/n L/n tweeted "maybe i was the fool thinking that you were the one for me" following with tweets "what happened to jolly holiday" with also a tweet that made the rumour spreads "Am i not enough for you?"

With Also Y/n's close friend who had been hinting that the couple was over with close friend Bella Hadid, Kendall Jenner, Iris Law, and Maude Apatow paparazzi pictures bringing chocolates, pizza, flowers, etc to Y/n L/n apartment in NYC and not only that Kendall Jenner posted a picture of both her and Y/n on a her instagram story with caption "My baby deserved the best".

Well I guess no more wholesome pictures of Max Vertsappen and Y/n L/n together. But Congrats to new couple Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet

yourinstagram ✔︎

liked by charlottesiine and 4,709,278 others

yourinstagram just enjoying my time in paradise and minding my own business

view all comments

y/nfan02 its the "break up glow up" for me

yourinstagram for real tho because like those tears really helped my skin and eyelashes.

y/nfan04 so true

y/nfan07 she really said "Let's make the girls and gays scream"

maxfan03 literally marry me maam, i would get on my knees just for you

yourinstagram sound like someone i knew

charlottesiine Y/N M/N L/N 😭🤣

kendalljenner YOU DID NOT

bellahadid I'm just gonna sit and watch

lirisaw get the popcorn everyone

maudeapatow you go girl 😌

yourinstagram stories

maxfinsta replied to your story

Having lots of fun huh

y/n

Still can't get over me huh 😳

max

Look can we please just talk over coffee. I really need to talk you really bad, i need to explain.

y/n

the day i fucking found out you cheated on me already explained everything, verstappen.

max

God you could be a little brat sometimes. How many times should i tell you that it was an accident and that i love you and i don't love Kelly.

y/n

you should tell me that till i'm already 6ft under ground. Oh and also if it was an accident it would have been a one time thing but it wasnt at all.

and verstappen...if you really fucking love me you why did you do it?

max

I don't know...

y/n

Goodbye Max

you've blocked this account

#fake instagram #social media au #instagram au #social media imagines #fake social media #x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines

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dawnbreakersgaze · 2 days

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Dr Greyson headcanons pt 3

🩺 Romantic & NSFW 🧸 MDNI 🔞

Once again, nobody asked but at this point all of this is just for me anyways and I graciously tag it so yall can block it 😂 Regardless, I have a lot of fun with these so I'll keep making them~ As said before, a lot of these are based on the limited info we get of Grey in game, while the rest is pulled right from my brain based on my own history with personality and character analysis. You don't have to agree with any of it. 💜 ps- it's a long one folks. Per usual I like to yap about this man A LOT so yeahhh

☤ Warnings: obv MDNI for 18+ content. Reader is femme coded afab (will do a m/m one if there is a want) Breath play, teasing, size kink if you squint real hard, oral (f receiving), mild cardiophilia, public sex-ish (his office).

Part 1 sfw part 2 sfw

This man doesn't really flaunt his money the way most people in his salary bracket do, he just doesn't care to, but what he does flaunt is you. Expect the most unabashed pampering of your life with Greyson. Work has been hard? Spa day. Life has you down? He booked you and your BFF a week vacation getaway for some you time. Feeling lonely? He'll try to take some time off and you can demand anything of him. He might not always be able to give you his undivided attention (work be like that) but he will always make sure you know you're loved.

On the mornings he gets to stay home and wake up with you, he's a cuddle hog. Good luck getting out of his clutches. He works out so you can't escape the iron grip. Truly though, it's so, so soft. The epitome of a switch, he'll take big or little spoon. If he's wrapped around you, with your head resting on his bicep and your legs intertwined at the knees and ankles, expect his hand to be firmly placed over your heart. If he's the one safely tucked away against you, then please, please run your fingers through his hair and leave little kisses on his shoulders. Or put your ear to his back and listen to the deep rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing, and hear his soft chuckle reverberate through him when he tells you how much your hands on his sides tickle.

The playful banter in this relationship is a communication staple. Accidentally said "you too!" When your waiter told you to enjoy your food? He's absolutely going to remind you of that the next day. But he can take it (and expects to! Please tease him back it's his ACTUAL love language) just as well as he dishes it. That one time he misheard your friend's introduction and called them by the wrong name for an entire day? Yeah, definitely never let him live that down.

There is always music during mundane activities, and he WILL dance poorly to it, and he WILL ask you to dance with him. Don't break his heart, no one is watching while you fold laundry in your living room, just laugh at his two left feet with him and have a really terrible dance party together.

So. Many. Outdoor. Dates. I hope you like nature because this man wants to show you ALL OF IT. Picnics at all the Linkon parks, walking all the nature trails with him and Archie, camping at all their 'special spots', hell, he'll be happy to teach you to fish too if you've never been. You thought looking at the stars with Xav on a rooftop in the city was nice, just wait until you see them from the top of the hidden hillside at Grey's favorite camping spot. Brightest you've ever seen them before in your life.

Despite how much he disliked cooking while he was single, he likes doing it a lot more with a partner. If you are someone who enjoys cooking and doesn't mind Greyson turning the mixing spoons and spatulas into drumsticks, a microphone, butt slappers, and anything else he can think of at the time, then he will be a lovely (and enthusiastic) helper. Ask him to cut the veggies and meat especially so you can hear his speel about how good he is with a knife. He's been waiting to tell you that one for AGES and he might explode otherwise. (If you ALSO hate cooking however, you're both fucked lol. RIPperoni to you both when his mom hears y'all live on takeout no matter how healthy it is.)

His love language is quality time, with affirmations being a close second. When I tell you that this man just wants to share all of life's experiences with you, be it at home or abroad, he doesn't care so long as he's in your company. He'll take baking at home with you over an expensive vacation, but as long as you're there, he'll go where you lead him without hesitation. His chatty nature also means he's both giving a lot of affirmations, as well as seeking them. Within the affirmations of always reminding you how wonderful you are and how much he loves you, Grey is also The King of pep talks and talking you through your worries and woes. Lay your head on his chest and tell him everything that fills your heart and head with heaviness and let him untangle and unravel the threads with you. And at the end of it all, tell him he treats you well, won't you please? He could use the same soft treatment as well. He bears his burdens with a quick laugh and an easy smile, but they're still heavy. Remind him that he's doing a good job and that you love him for who he is- every single part of him. Especially the ones he hides away.

Just, so much laughter. Everything about a relationship with Greyson is about not taking yourself or life too seriously and letting yourself enjoy the time you have together. He knows he's busy, he knows he spends too much time away from you at work. So he works extra hard on his time off to make up for it, to fill the time you do have together with incredible memories and cherished moments that he hopes fill you with warmth and happiness that can keep you company until he can get back. And when he's not around, he's sending you silly videos and memes and jokes and other things that remind him of you to keep your spirits up when he's got a 5 second reprieve from his busy schedule. He'll send all sorts of goofy selfies, many of himself but also lots of the Akso staff you know and all their shenanigans (HIPPA whompst lol) and share aaaalllllllllll the Akso Tea Time drama with you as it unfolds. Even if he's gone a lot, he keeps you as connected to his daily life as he possibly can.

I said earlier that teasing was his love language, but it goes hand in hand with the affirmations really. The teasing is more frequent than say, Rafayel, but it's also less harmful, and by that I mean there is less BITE. Grey will nEVeR target an insecurity or sore spot knowingly to get a rise, and if he does so on accident, you will get the most sincere apology of your life (followed by a very mature conversation about said insecurity if you wanna talk about it because he wants you to know how much he loves you regardless of whatever it is.) The teasing should be fun and lighthearted. If it isn't done with a smile and a laugh, especially laughing at yourself, then it isn't the kind he's keen to participate in.

Will not hesitate to hoist you into his arms or haul you over his shoulder (assuming you're smaller than him, of course) if you're being bratty or downright silly. Sometimes even in public, depending on the situation (mind you, this is all in good fun, 100% playful). The reason he keeps so fit is so he can wrangle you when you get too big for your britches.

But make no mistake. This man folds easier than a camping chair made out of wet receipt paper if you turn the tables on him. Grey acts all confident and cocksure when he thinks he's got the upper hand, but all it takes is your hand on his upper thigh under the table out on a date, or a bold statement of intent (tell him how nice his ass looks in those new pants and how much you wanna see him out of them, I dare you, I double dog dare you), maybe even take a page put of his book and take a confident step into his personal space, grab him by the collar and pull him to your level, and watch him crumple. It's so much worse if you maintain eye contact through it all too. Stare into those bright blue eyes and enjoy the show of him falling apart in your arms. When it comes to flirting, he can dish it, but man, can he NOT take it. 0/10 resilience.

Now that your Greyson has melted faster than ice cream on a hot summer's day, you have roughly one (1) minute to do whatever you want before he snaps out of it. He is putty. Jello. Boneless. But DO NOT GET COMPLACENT. If you happen to activate The Horny™ in that time frame and falter or let go of the reins, the only thing that's getting folded now is you.

God is this man a Tease with a capital T. We've already established that in your regular lives, but during sex? He wants to hear you say exactly (in explicit detail even) how badly you want him, what his touch does to you, and how crazy you're going to go if he doesn't stop ghosting his fingers over your achingly sensitive clit and just touch you already! But you can't get too mad at him, not when his lips are on your jaw and that sweet laugh of his resonates through the both of you and he finally, finally gives you what you want and curls one and then another of those long dexterous fingers inside your welcoming walls while his thumb apologizes with haste for the previous slight to your poor neglected bud. "Ah- no need to get upset my love, you know all you had to do was ask politely." That's a lie of course. No matter how softly he says it, his impish little smile says it all.

He will do everything in his power to keep connected to your heartbeat. Call it a kink if you want, maybe it is, but it's more of a connection point to him. Sometimes it's him grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with his thumb pressed firm to the pulse point on the radial artery. Or his hand tightly gripping the crook of your thigh for the deep thrum of your femoral artery while he has you caged against him on his desk. Other times, he's got you in a mating press, mouth to your ear telling you how good you are to him, for him, while his hand is securely squeezing your calf for your tibial artery. But Kay, you say. What about the most obvious one? The easiest one? The throat. The carotid artery. It'll take a little convincing (not much, just tell him you trust him with your whole heart) and those skilled surgeon's hands will be put to very, very good use. Grey to too conscious of you, of his most precious person, to ever leave marks on your beautiful neck or risk hurting you. As a physician with extensive knowledge of the complex cardiovascular AND pulmonary systems, he knows exactly how much pressure is required to feel the beautiful rhythmic beats of your heart. If you ask it of him, the first time he wraps his hand around your throat, feels that immediate surge in your pulse, and you let out an airy little gasp, it's all over for him. "... well shit-" he'll groan in that cute little drawl of his.

Thanks to that little discovery, breath play is also absolutely on the menu if you're into it. As stated above, he knows all the signs to look for and is very VERY cautious with you. You'll have to encourage it, but once he gets to see how much you enjoy it, and how beautiful you look all dazed out on his cock with your throat fitting into his hand so perfectly, he'll get it. Grey probably didn't even realize he had a bit of a fixation until then either, but he loves to see how his larger palm and longer fingers - that are what make him such an adept surgeon - so nicely encompass your neck. At some point, he'll buy you a very nice piece of jewelry, something subtle to remind you of his hands, but elegant enough none would be the wiser when you wore it out. He especially loves it when you keep in on at the end of the night, the only things covering you are that little golden hand, and his.

A man that talks this much and laughs this hard without passing out has legendary head skills, and I will die on this hill. Jaw and tongue muscle endurance for days and that's damn near canonical. Tell him to put that tongue to good use instead of yapping at you, and he will happily show you why you should be careful what you wish for (after he's picked himself up off the floor, that is). He'll have you on your back with your knees over his shoulders, hands lifting your hips up into the air to meet him, and tongue so deep you'll be seeing stars soon. Just take care when you look up, because those smiling blue eyes will be fixed right on yours. He's going to savor every part of this from your taste and feel, to your sounds and expression. This is a feast, and like any proper country boy, he will say grace by worshiping at the source. He really likes it when you get both hands in his hair and lock your ankles behind his head when you're close. Not that he would dare move away (oh yes he would, he's done it before just to see you beg and whine a little), but your desperation has him smiling all the way through your orgasm. That cheeky fuck. But sometimes, he gets lost in it too. Too many overnight shifts, too many doubles, he hasn't been able to properly appreciate you in too many days. So he makes a little quip about you taking a ride (something something save a horse, of course) and the next thing you know you're smothering your dear beloved doctor in pussy - but it's okay, he practically begged for this. Greyson doesn't have a particularly large nose but the shape is oh so exquisite for face sitting, and he knows just how to rub it along your folds, diligently pressing your clit while his tongue takes great care to love and lavish every part of you it can reach. His hands aren't idol either, grabbing for the fat of your thighs, your ass, your wrists and hands, whatever can anchor him to you. If you can think straight enough to remember, thread your hands in his hair and give a little tug. Enjoy the low groan you'll pull from him, eyes slowly opening, half-lidded as that bright blue looks up at you all hazy and dazed. Now who's smiling hmm?

Vocal. As. Fuck. In multiple ways. Obviously, the teasing banter. Lots of "oh no you dont, dont hide from me" And "Hmm I didn't hear that, what did you want me to do?" Or "I don't know, should I?" All said with that signature smile and quippish tone that drives you mad and wild all at once. But once you're both tired of the little games and he's buried in your warmth trying to keep his thoughts straight, it's all praise punctuated by the delicous slap of skin to skin. "Gods you're perfect" or "Look at how well you take me Love, like I was made for you" and "Shit- keep rolling your hips like that and-". Of course, all of this is peppered with some choice expletives, though he's really not much for swearing outside of, well, you. When he gets close, you'll know it by how tight his grip on you gets and how soft his voice is. "Are you here, with me?" Nothing is sweeter than getting to hear that low drawl snag in the back of his throat when he asks you if you're close to cumming with him. Lungs too wrung out from the pace he's keeping to sound steady, each syllable is emphasized by a huff or grunt. We can't forget about the other noises - the sharp hiss he makes when your lips wrap around his length, or the shuttering moan he tries to quiet in the crook of your neck when you're slowly sinking down onto him on his office chair. Grey has a litany of wonderful noises you can pull from him. This man is rarely quiet, after all.

And at the end of it all, when you're both too tired and too boneless to get up for a warm wet rag and a glass of water, Greyson still will. There is no unending amount of stamina here. He's not a god, a demi-human, or something so strangely other. He's just A Guy. His love for you, however, is all the same. Make sure to laugh a little, when you see him wobble when he stands. Tell him he needs to do more squats so he can hold up to his own paces better. Be prepared for the pillow that gets throw at you when you do, of course. His kiss is tender when he gets back, murmurs of adoration and gratitude against your lips as he helps clean you. He is just a man, sure, but he is yours - completely.

#lnds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #love and deep space #kay writes #lnds dr greyson #lnds greyson #lads dr. greyson #lads greyson #drgreysonmd #lnds headcanons #lads headcanons #18+ mdni #special thank you to dearest Cathy- my Pearl- for helpinf me with that center image #its so perfect and im sooooo grafeful #i hope yall like these #i spent like 4 days working on them but like i said these are mostly for me at this point lol

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alfredosauce50 · 1 year

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I’ve barely seen any content on Kuro, which is a shame because a lot of people seem interested in him. After many months of requests and a decisive popularity vote, I’m going out on a limb and the feeling in my gut to present this absolute dish.

2p! Japan headcanons

He’s sharp, blunt, and even a little mean, but makes it a point to live a carefree life. He does whatever he wants with no regard for others. Everything comes naturally for him, and he doesn’t falter. Or does he?

Appearance

You’d have to kill him before he gets a bowl cut. He had one as a kid and has not looked back since. Instead, he likes his hair on the longer end so he can tie it in a bun or short ponytail. If not, he might rock a shaved updo tied at the top.

Kuro is on the shorter end—whatever 5’6” may be to you. He also goes out quite often, either to play at the batting cages or enjoy night life. For real baseball games, he has to run a lot under the sun, so he has an athletic build and a slight tan. Swimming is also something he enjoys, and in the hotter months when he frequents the beach, he picks up a crazy tan from his trunks.

He has a good sense of fashion. He might not go all out like a lot of young folks do, but he does dress smart. Some of his go-to’s are loose blouses, harem pants, and shirts with kimono sleeves cut at the elbow. Any longer and he’ll tell you it’s too much. He also has ear piercings and a lot of tattoos on his neck, arms, and back.

Personality

He’s a quiet extrovert. Kuro may not talk much, being such a private person, but he enjoys being in the company of friends. In fact, he keeps a tight circle for the sole purpose of hanging out. Anything more and it’ll feel as if he’s being pried into. Regardless, he does like his group, even if he won’t openly admit it (he always shows up).

He has an Osaka accent. It sounds much more casual than the Tokyo accent, and may even come off as rude. While most people call idiots ‘バカ,’ (baka) he calls them ‘アホ’ (aho). If he were to say ‘very,’ he would say ‘めっちゃ’ (meccha). “この水着はどう？めっちゃめっちゃ可愛いじゃん？” (How about this swimsuit? Isn’t it cute?) And he’s holding up the raciest bikini you’ve ever seen. Pro-tip: don’t bring him clothes shopping.

On top of being nonchalant, Kuro is very blunt. He won’t hesitate to tell you his opinion whether you asked for it or not. How the shirt doesn’t suit you, that you’re slow at washing up, or you’re bad at something. It’s only tolerable because he’s right 99% of the time, and he doesn’t mean anything by it. If you understand and respect that, you’ve already gotten past his biggest quirk.

“This chicken is kinda dry. Did you use flour instead of potato starch?” He crunches on a piece.

“That’s how fried chicken is usually made.”

“Not a fan.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” You say, reaching out for his plate. He holds it away from you.

He keeps you on the edge. Kuro comes off as neutral most of the time, but can switch it up instantly. You had an inkling he was teasing you with his nonchalance (e.g. suggesting a sexy bikini for you to try) but you can never guess when he’s about to change. Just when you least expect it, he’ll have the slyest smirk on his face. “But you put in so much effort to make it for me. I’ll clean off the plate, even if it tastes bad.”

Kuro can be a little shit. Aside from making fun of you, he loves getting on your nerves. Purposely blocking your way, scrambling up your food when you’re trying to take a picture, and even lifting your skirt to see what’s underneath. One slap and an earful later, he’ll stop. He’s always testing your patience, but he knows you well enough to stay just under the threshold.

He’s very cynical. About people, things, and ideas. Again, it’s hard to hold it against him when he’s usually right. However, it gets particularly bad when there’s jealousy involved. Since he’s emotionally constipated, he’d rather say hurtful things than to admit he’s the one who’s hurt.

“He’s only being nice to you because he wants to get in your pants.” He remarks, lifting a cup to his mouth.

“I would ask if you’re speaking from experience, but you’re not really nice to me.” You walk to the door with your things, not sparing him so little as a glance. “So at least he’s doing something right.”

“Who said I’m trying to get in your pants?”

He’s not protective until the very last minute. Kuro trusts you to be responsible and to find your way without his help. The independence may be healthy, but he’s there when you need him—even if he has something to say about it. Essentially, he’s kind without his words matching his actions. Kuro will buy a whole basket of things for you if you’re short on money, but not without calling you dumb first. “Stop putting things back, dummy. I’m paying for everything.”

Interests

He’s a popular tattoo-artist. Kuro is excellent at drawing—his designs are unique, dark, and more on the explicit side, which his clients can’t seem to get enough of. Because he’s always booked out, he spends a great deal of time in his studio. He has surgeon hands, can concentrate for hours on end, and wears glasses while he works.

At home, he’s coming up with new designs for his portfolio. If you watch him work, he’s always ready to pop the question. “So, when will you let me do your tattoo? I can do anywhere you like.”

He’s a pervert. Aside from making suggestive or riqué comments (like wanting to tattoo you on questionable places on your body) he consumes a lot of adult content. Weirdly enough, he’s pretty subtle about it. The only person he openly talks about it with is Alfred. For that reason, you call them the ‘degenerate duo.’ Not that you need to be privy to their conversations to know how he is.

Kuro loves baseball. He has his own bat, glove, uniform and everything. Games are harder to organize when it requires so many players, but he’s more than happy to play a mini one with you. If not, he’ll go to the batting cages for a swing.

He’s a night owl. When he’s done with work for the day, he’ll take you out to town. The bars, izakayas, and arcades in Japan are fantastic. Now, it’s midnight when you both head out, and he’s not tired at all. One of these days, you might suspect Kuro is a part of the sleepless elite.

Psychology + romance

Being friends with him is already hard enough. He’s mean, sly and a total pervert. But when he’s not those things, he’s smart, kind, and knows how to have fun. If you make that trade and stay around, you’re well on your way to being a valued person in his life. And if you keep up with him, your chemistry will develop from there on out.

He can’t resist someone who can go toe-to-toe with him. If you can hold conversations with him, great. If you can bicker with him, even better. It’s not really conflict he’s looking for, but an equal. It’s comforting to be around someone who thinks like him, or at least, understands him. Being with you will be effortless, and he’ll find himself looking for you, again and again.

Kuro changes his habits for you. He could have the chance to do anything in the city, and yet, he’d give that up to do groceries with you. He’d rather pick out fruit and veg with you than go out with his friends. At that point, it’s pretty obvious he has a thing for you. He knows it, his friends know it, but it’s only you that stays oblivious. “These apples are better. Just weigh them as the cheaper ones so we can save some money.”

After all, how could he? He said so himself he wasn’t interested in getting with you. Kuro never lies, but here he is, lying to your face to protect himself. He can’t be vulnerable to save a life. Everything he ever says to you is a testament to that. Being blunt, being negative, and making fun of you is just how he avoids his feelings.

Because of his dishonesty, there will be rifts in the relationship; you start thinking he just simply doesn’t like you. And it can’t be mended by his other love languages. He could do everything in the world for you, but it feels substantial for how much shit he gives you. “I washed the clothes,” or “I made curry,” may as well be a nicer way of saying what he already has: I don’t like your food and you don’t know how to do the laundry.

The breaking point is when you both argue for the first time. Jealousy is a cruel mistress, and he just made a rude comment about the person you’re seeing--then how you have bad taste. Kuro regrets everything the second you start crying. His eyes go wide and his heart just sinks. The pain in your voice is jarring, and the way you look at him goes to show how he’s treated you.

“You’re always so mean to me,” You raise a hand to wipe away your tears, but it’s no use when they keep falling. “You never say anything nice about me. If you don’t like me, why do we even see each other?”

He’s too ashamed to say anything. The rest of the night is quiet, and you’re still upset because he hasn’t offered any closure. Just when you’re about to give up on him, he does the completely unexpected. While you’re getting ready for bed, he’s watching from the doorway with his arms folded. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

If you agree, nothing will happen—maybe except keeping you close enough so you don’t leave. After a night or two, he’ll give a proper apology for being unfair to you. But if you keep sleeping with him, it won’t be long before he gives in to your expectant stares and leans in. Only then does he give you the closure you’ve been waiting for: a slow and sensual kiss. He draws out every movement he makes just to feel your lips.

Kuro is an emotionally-intense lover. He feels very deeply, and can be quite sensitive. If you’re perceptive of him, he’ll return the favor tenfold. His affection is more of a constant thought than anything, but that’s what makes touching so intoxicating. Not a single brush goes unnoticed, and he relishes every hug he gives you.

#Source: I made it up #can’t say how good this reads because this is a completely new take #alfredosauce50 #2p Japan #2ptalia #hetalia #hetalia headcanon #hetalia headcanons #hetalia fanfiction #update #hetalia x reader #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfic #2p! Japan

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