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andvys · 8 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 3

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of emotional abuse (Chrissy’s mom), absent parent, daddy issues, jealousy. Billy being Billy… it’s not what you think

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Someone you don't want to see shows up at your doorsteps.

Word count: 6.7k

Note: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me as always, you're the best! @somethingvicked thank you for the idea with Billy, it's working perfectly for this story

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Steve had been so on edge ever since he found out about you and Billy. He knows that Tommy and Carol aren’t the most honest people. They strive off of chaos, they live for the drama and the lies and constantly make up new things to gossip about but for some reason, he believes their words this time. Billy had been following you around ever since he broke up with you– he had been running after you for some time now but never like this. You always rejected him, you were taken and not interested but now Steve can’t help but wonder, were you truly not interested or were you just rejecting him because you were with him? Were you secretly into Billy all this time? The thought of it makes him feel sick.

He sits in his car, bouncing his knee as he stares out the window, waiting for his girlfriend. The parking lot is filled with students, he hears laughter and different voices. He sees Billy walking towards his car, the usual smug and arrogant look resting on his face. He straightens up, looking around to see if you’re around too, wanting to see if you will get in the car with him. What will he do if you do get into his car?

“Hey!”

Nancy’s voice startles him a little, he tears his eyes away from the blue camaro and turns to look at his girlfriend.

“Hey Nance,” he smiles. He instantly leans closer to her once she’s seated, she meets him halfway, kissing him on the lips. Her eyes are closed, his are open and they flash with curiosity when he sees you through his window. You look his way and it’s enough for him to tense up.

He expects you to get into Billy’s car but instead you go the other way, you pass by his car and look straight ahead, pretending to not see him or her. He breaks the kiss, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind, she leans back and puts the seatbelt on as she begins to talk about her project. Steve hums and nods along, turning his head to see where you are going.

Are you going to Heather’s car? To Chrissy’s car? It turns out to be neither of those, instead you leave the parking lot and walk into the direction of the football field. Where are you going?

“I figured that we could rent a movie tomorrow since we can’t hang out tonight,” Nancy says, “I really wanna get it done. It’s been nice to hang out with Jonathan again though, we should all go out together sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve mumbles and turns back to her when he no longer sees you.

Her brows are raised and a confused smile is on her lips, “were you even listening?”

He nods, “yeah, you want me to hang out with Byers,” he says with an eye roll.

“Hey,” Nancy mumbles, hitting his arm, “he’s nice, you just gotta get to know him.”

“Sure,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, “nice.”

Nancy shakes her head at him, raising her arm, she pulls down the sun visor and flips open the small mirror, a piece of paper that was tucked into it falls into her lap. Her brows knit together as she looks down at it. She picks it up, it’s just a simple brown paper that was ripped out of a notebook, she turns it around. Annoyance bubbles inside of her when she sees the writing on the note. It’s not much but it’s from you, it’s not signed but she recognizes your handwriting and the little heart, only you draw it like that.

I love you

She presses her lips together and glances over at Steve who is staring into blank space.

How long has the note been here? Does he even know that it existed?

“Here,” Nancy mumbles and throws it into his lap.

Steve glances at her first, brows furrowed and lips parted, he notices the annoyed look on her face. He looks down at the note in his lap. Oh.

“I didn’t know you still kept her things.”

Steve blinks as he stares at your handwriting. You drew a little heart next to your I love you. He swallows harshly. The weird feeling in his chest returns yet again. He didn’t even know the note was there– you did things like that all the time, leaving little notes everywhere for him to find. He kept them all.

“I don’t,” he lies as he puts the note in his pocket after folding it, “I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll throw it away later.”

Nancy nods, eyeing him from the side. She doesn’t like the way he folded the paper so neatly. He should’ve crumpled it up and thrown it out the window.

“Okay.”

The scented candles in your room are lit, making the air smell like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The light of your salt lamp makes everything appear softer, you never use the big light in your room, you hate it. The police’s every breath you take is playing in the background.

“Are you going to the winter formal?” Chrissy asks as she flips to the next page of her new fashion magazine. You are both laying on your bed, the decoration pillows all over the floor. You look at the pretty dresses in the magazine. You would be wearing one of those next Friday if Steve wasn’t such a cheating asshole.

“Nope.”

She glances at you with a sad look in her eyes, “we could go together.”

You give her a small smile as you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I don’t feel like going anyway, he’s gonna be there with her.”

She sighs, her lips are set in a frown, “you know, I never liked him. As much as I hate to say it, I’m not surprised about his actions but Nancy?” She mumbles, “who would’ve thought that she’s such a.. bitch.”

“Yeah, looks deceive, huh?”

“Totally.”

You told your friends about what Nancy said in the girls bathroom when she didn’t know that you were there.

“She looks like one of those church girls.”

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, “a church girl?”

“Yeah, she wears those ugly long skirts and those preppy blouses that my mom forces me to wear when we go to church on Sunday’s,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

“Is she a church girl?” You ask.

She snorts and shakes her head, “I don’t think so, I’ve never seen her around.”

You nod.

She flips to the next page, eying all the dresses before her eyes land on the ugliest one, a giggle falling from her lips, she points at it with her pink nails, “looks like something she would wear.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“And that’s why she won’t ever be prom queen, that’ll be you,” you say, expecting to see a smile on her face but instead it falls and a frown settles in her features.

“It’s not prom yet,” she mumbles, “and I don’t really wanna be the queen to some asshole’s king.”

Raising your brows, you tilt your head as you look at her. Cupping your cheek, you lean your elbow on the pillow beneath you, “you mean, you don’t want to be Jason Carver’s queen?”

A look of disgust crosses her features and she shudders at the mention of his name.

“Mom forces me to go with him,” she says, looking like she’s ready to break down out of frustration, “I don’t want to go with him.”

Your gaze softens, you place your hand on her back, “then don’t go with him.”

She keeps her eyes locked on the magazine, “you know how my mom is, I can’t just not go, she’ll make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.”

You never liked Chrissy’s mother, she was always horrible to her. Always pushing her to do and be ‘better’, forcing her to associate herself with people who already climbed up the social ladder, like Jason Carver.

You sigh, wishing you could help her.

“What if you just stop doing what she wants you to do?” You shrug.

She sighs and opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off, holding your hand up, you sit up on your knees, “I know, I know, easier said than done but–” you pause, looking around your room, you eye the freshly washed and ironed cheerleader uniform, the cassettes in the little box on your floor, bands that are his favorites, singers that your friends love so much, you stare at the baby pink wallpaper and the colorful clothes in your messy closet– you should’ve closed the door, the sight of the mess makes you want to groan in annoyance.

“But?” Chrissy mumbles as she waits for you to continue.

You blink, tearing your eyes away from all the things in your room that you didn’t come to like on your own. You look back at your best friend.

“If you do things for others, if you do things because they want you to do them or because they expect you to do them, because they like those things– you will end up feeling miserable at some point, you will lose yourself and one day you’re gonna realize that you don’t even know yourself, that you don’t even know what you like, what you truly want or… who you even are..”

She lets your words sink in. For a moment it’s silent between the two of you. You look down at your hands while she stares at you. Sadness and realization crossing her features. You are trying to help, she knows it but you are also realizing something about yourself, she can tell by the lost look in your eyes.

“I know that things would be tense if you just started going against her stupid rules or wishes but you can always come to me if things get tough at home,” you say, reaching out to take her hand, “I’m here and you know my mom won’t mind you staying with us.”

Her eyes light up at your words, a smile tugs at her lips, she turns her hand around and squeezes yours, “you’re the best, you know that right?” She whispers.

You smile at her words, you tilt your head, “no, I’m not.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes, “yes, you are.”

“Says who?” You chuckle.

“I do,” she says, proudly.

“Oh,” you smirk, leaning closer to her, you don’t notice the way her eyes widen or the way her cheeks flush a little red, “you do, huh?”

She blinks, her lips part and she stares at your face. Your face hovers over hers for a second before you lay back down on your bed and reach for the bat shaped pillow, the one you excitedly bought for your ‘halloween’ decoration, hugging it to your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, not noticing her stare or her tense body.

“A-Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the winter formal?” She asks again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She looks down at her hands, “okay,” she frowns.

“Hey,” you whisper, glancing at her, “you’ll still have fun.”

“With Jason?” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, “I doubt that.”

“You can still go with someone else. If your mom is gonna act like a bitch, I’ll kick her ass for you.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she shakes her head as she looks at you with a smile on her face.

Rolling on your side, you prop your head up on your hand. Curiosity sparks inside of you.

“Who did you really want to go with?” You ask, “I know there is someone.” You notice the blush on her face and it only deepens the longer you stare at her.

“Oh uh–” she chuckles nervously, “n-no one, I just, I don’t wanna go with Jason.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She nods.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know that, right?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Good, we’re best friends, we tell each other everything, right?”

“Yeah,” she whispers and gives you a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m gonna go now, I still have to study for the math test tomorrow,” she groans.

“Oh.. yeah,” you mumble, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face. You hate being by yourself, there’s too much going on in your mind when you’re all alone in this house– you used to love it but ever since he left, it’s just been hard. “I gotta start working on the assignment.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes just the way she did when you told her about who you got partnered up with.

“You know, you could still take Billy up on that offer.”

You snort at her words, “I don’t think we need Billy to kick his ass, Heather will do.”

“Did you know that she accidentally bumped into him at Nick’s party last weekend? He was holding a drink and it got all over Nancy,” she giggles.

Your eyes widen, you can’t even fight the grin off your face, “no way?” You gasp.

“Yes way,” she laughs as she reaches for her backpack, “he got all pissed and looked like he was ready to fight but when he saw Heather, he got all quiet– he even looked scared.”

“He should be,” you chuckle.

“And Nancy got all hysterical and ran off.”

You snort, “she deserved it.”

“She deserves worse for what she did– they both do,” she sighs.

She never liked Steve, even before you started dating him, she couldn’t stand him. His presence annoyed her and more so when you two got together and she had to watch how he continuously messed with your feelings.

“Yeah well, I don’t care anymore, I’m moving on…”

She knows that there is no truth behind your words, you are not moving on. You still love him, she thinks that you always will. You always looked at him like he was the only light in your life, like he was the one who hung every star in the dark sky, it made her hate him even more because he never looked at you like that.

“I’ll walk you to the door–”

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles, “you don’t have to.” She walks towards you and pulls you into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She squeezes you tightly before she lets go, giving you another smile.

“Yeah, still gotta help you pick out the right shoes for your dress,” you say.

She nods, “and maybe I’ll manage to convince you to come, after all,” she says as she pulls away and begins to walk out of your room, “I’d rather go with you than Jason,” she says quickly before she turns around and leaves the room, saying ‘bye’ in a sing song voice.

You chuckle and throw your head back against the pillow.

“Jason Carver,” you mumble in disgust. Not a single person could ever force you to go to the winter formal with him but Chrissy’s mother is the epitome of an evil witch, you know that she will make her life more miserable if she doesn’t do as she says. You understand why Chrissy would rather suffer through the night with him than risk a fight with her mother.

Not even five minutes after she left, the doorbell rings. Looking around the room, you try to see if she forgot something, that’s what usually happens when she leaves, she rushes back in a few minutes later because she left her keys or something else. Sighing, you push roll out of bed and rush out of the room.

The doorbell rings again.

“I’m coming!” You call out, “since when are you so impatient..”

Your socks are a little slippery on the hardwood floor, careful not to fall, you hold onto the railing as you hurry down the stairs. Grabbing the doorknob, you are already smiling in amusement, “let me guess, you forgot–” with your words caught in your throat and your smile falling quicker than ever, you only manage to stare at him in confusion.

There he is, Steve Harrington, standing on your front porch with his hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face. What does he want?

Even though it was him who came here to see you, he stands frozen in place. He stares at you and you stare at him. You are both frozen, time stops, everything stops moving, right now, it’s just the two of you in this world.

It’s the first time you look at him again, properly. All the sadness, all the pain and the longing comes creeping back. It was there all this time, hidden beneath all the anger but it was easier to deal with it when you started pretending like he didn’t exist anymore, when you forced yourself not to look at him anymore, when you threw all his things away, when you let go of him. How dare he show up here?

Steve watches the way your eyes flash with confusion, anger and sadness, they soften for a split second. This is the first time you actually look at him again. This is the first time you are forced to acknowledge his presence again. A feeling he can only describe as relief rushes through him when you finally look into his eyes again.

It feels like forever that you look at each other when in reality only a minute passed since you opened the door. You blink and take a step back, rolling your eyes, you go to shut the door without wanting to hear an explanation as to why he is here– “no.” Is all you say before slamming the door in his face but he is quicker than you, he always was. He places his palm on the door, stopping you from closing it, “wait–”

“Get lost, Harrington.”

He sighs, he didn’t expect anything else from you.

You try to close the door again but he doesn’t let you, keeping his palm pressed against the wooden door, he stares at you with a stubborn look on his face. God, you want to punch him.

“What do you want?” You ask as you finally give up and let go of the door, you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, not looking into his eyes. You raise your brows and glare at him when he invites himself into your house, he shuts the door behind him. You shake your head in disbelief.

He is wearing the stupid flannel that you used to love so much, the one you always stole from him– does it still smell like you?

“We have to work on the assignment together.”

Is he serious?

“I told you, I’ll do it myself,” you snap at him before you turn around and make your way into the kitchen in hopes that he will leave but instead, he follows you into the kitchen.

“We’re partners, it wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work by yourself.”

You clench your jaw at his words, how ironic of him to say that. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you walk towards the fridge and open it, distracting yourself from his presence by staring at all the food and drinks.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to doing all the work myself, my previous partner wasn’t much of a help,” you murmur, “in any way.”

Steve scoffs at your words, though he looks down in embarrassment, knowing exactly what things you are talking about. He places his hands on his hips and glances at you through his lashes, he eyes you for a moment before he speaks up, “listen, I-I wanna do better in school and I really want to work on this assignment.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Why did he have to sit next to you today?

“Since when do you care about being better in school?” You ask in annoyance, reaching for a water bottle, you close the fridge again and turn around to face him. He breaks eye contact the moment you raise your brows in question.

He shrugs, “I wanna graduate next year and Mr. Higgins said that I–”

“Don’t care,” you interrupt him and sigh of boredom.

He looks a little taken aback, furrowing his brows, he stares at you for a moment as he presses his lips back together. When he came here, he didn’t expect you to be so.. mean. Steve only ever knew you as the sweet girl, not once did you treat him badly in all the years he has known you. You never gave him the cold shoulder, not even when he deserved it. You were always kind, gentle and forgiving.

Heartbreak changes a person but not like this, right? What happened in those two months ever since he left?

While Steve tries to figure you out. You try to figure out how to handle this situation.

Should you curse him out and kick him out of your house and show him how hurt you still are? Should you really give him that satisfaction? Or should you pretend to be okay, give him the cold shoulder that you should’ve given him years ago and act like you are fine with this, with working with him?

You opt for the latter. You don’t want him to see the power he still has over you. You don’t want him to see how much you still want him.

You can feel his eyes on you, burning into you, it makes your skin crawl.

You take deep breaths before you look back up at him.

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Thursday night?” You scoff. You know damn well that he never worked on homeworks or assignments when he was still with you, he had ‘better’ things to do. You were the one that did all these things for him.

“Can we just work on this?” He sighs.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “yeah.”

Surprise flashes in his eyes, he didn’t think that it would be that easy to convince you to work with him. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at him, you wouldn’t even glance into his direction. He figured that it was because of how hurt you were after the breakup but now he begins to doubt that that is why you stopped acknowledging him.

“Come on then,” you mumble as you make your way out of the kitchen, brushing past him. He nods, looking down at the floor, he turns around and follows you into the hallway, turning the light off on the way out.

It feels weird to be back in your house, it feels so familiar yet so… strange. There isn’t much in your room that has changed since the last time he had been in here– only the lack of his things is noticeable to him. The bottle of his cologne that used to be on your dresses is gone and so are the collection of polaroids. He frowns, a weird feeling tugs at his heart. You got rid of everything. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He looks around the room that haunts his dreams– a piece of clothing that neither belongs to you or him is draped over the chair by your desk. It’s a black denim jacket. Clenching his jaw, he wonders if it belongs to Billy. The thought of you wearing his clothes, of you being with him makes him so.. angry.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You mumble without looking back at him. You are already back on your bed with your notebook in your lap. He stares at you, the moment feels too familiar. He remembers climbing up to your window one night, he wanted to surprise you with flowers. You were sitting on your bed just like you do now but instead of the notebook you had a magazine on your lap and you were wearing pajamas. You looked so cute.

“We gotta settle on a topic,” you say and raise your head to look at him.

Steve’s brows are still furrowed, he still stares at you. He feels confused, irritated and a little hurt. You seem so.. okay. You look at him and talk to him as though nothing ever happened. Are you okay without him? Are you happier without him?

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts, he walks towards your desk, he pulls out the chair and sits down.

“Yeah.. what do you wanna write about?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, we could totally write an essay about snakes, there’s one in my room, right now.”

His lips part and his face scrunches up in confusion, it takes him a moment to realize what you mean. His shoulders slump and he scoffs, “very funny.”

“I know,” you smirk.

“We could write about basketball–”

Your scoff cuts him off, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Or about cheerleading–”

“Are you crazy?”

“I think you know more about cheerleading than I do, you were the one who convinced me to do it after all,” you say, tilting your head at him, “remember?”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs, he nods at your words and clenches his jaw, “yeah..”

There is so much tension in your room, his presence makes you angry.

After the initial shock subsided and the sadness turned into anger, you began to curse him for what he did, especially when you found out that he had kissed her while he was still with you. That is something you will never forgive him, the lies and the cheating.

The anger makes you feel stronger, it keeps the sadness away, for the most part, at least.

“How about we do something more classy– although, you don’t do classy, so…”

Steve rolls his eyes at your words, “not like you do it either,” he mumbles.

You snort, not showing him the anger or the annoyance that you are feeling right now. You tilt your head and stare at him in question.

“I mean, given that you fucked Billy Hargrove out of all people,” he says with a looks of distaste on his face.

What?

You almost laugh in his face but you hold yourself back.

He eyes your expression slowly, waiting for a reaction. He expects you to scoff, to look caught, to look embarrassed, to blush or to deny it all– just the way you always denied your attraction to Billy every time he brought it up but he gets nothing from you. Absolutely nothing and it only fuels his anger even more. The burning in his chest and stomach worsens when you look at him with a straight face.

You look at him for a while, not moving, not saying anything, he can’t even read the look on your face. After a while, you sigh and look down at your notebook, “so how about we write an essay about Romeo and Juliet?” You ask, “you know, since it’s the only book you actually ever touched.”

His brows knit together, his cheeks grow red, “are you not gonna say anything?”

His irrational anger amuses you a little but you don’t show it.

You look at him through hooded eyes, not raising your head, “I just did?”

He rolls his eyes and stands up, walking towards you, “I mean about Billy.”

“What about him?”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks.

His eyes flash with desperation. He wants to know, he needs to know.

How ironic it is to see him beg for an answer when he has no right to even get one. He never gave you the truth so why should you? You are not his anymore.

His eyes are pleading. Why does he want to know? Why does he even care? He has the girl he truly loves, why should it matter what you do or who you do it with?

“So, I’m not sure if you remember the story but in Romeo and Juliet, there’s obviously that tragic ending so–”

“Y/n,” he sighs.

You close your mouth and glare at him, you used to love hearing him say your name, now you hate it.

“Would you rather write an essay about Billy Hargrove?” You ask calmly, giving him a fake smile.

“No,” he rolls his eyes.

“Good, cause I don’t either.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs in frustration, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We could write about pride and prejudice.”

You lift your chin and look at him in surprise. You used to reread that book all the time, he knows it’s your favorite– he used to steal it out of your hands, reading some of Mr.Darcy’s lines in a mocking way, back then it made you laugh.

“You didn’t even read it,” you murmur.

“I can read it now,” he shrugs, “you still have it, right?”

“We got a week to finish the essay, Steve. It’ll take you days to even finish and understand that book so don’t even bother–”

“No,” he says stubbornly, “I want to.”

You throw your hands up, “why?”

‘Cause you wanted to choose the book for your next essay, you told him that weeks before.. her. ‘Cause you love it so much– or used to love it.

He doesn’t look at you, he stares at the ground and shrugs, “just let me do it, please,” he says, “I can get started on the essay while reading it.”

You try to figure him out. Why is this so important to him? He used to make fun of that book, of you reading so much. He would laugh whenever you offered to read it for him and now he suddenly wants to read it himself?

Sighing, you get up and walk towards your bookshelf. You bend down and reach for the book before you turn back to face him.

It feels weird to see him back in your room– a place he spent so many nights in, a place he used to kiss you in, a place he used to touch you in.

“Here.”

You hold it out to him, keeping distance between the two of you as though you are scared to come near him. His fingertips brush yours when he takes the book from you, warmth spreads across his skin and he finds himself looking at your face.

You quickly pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest, avoiding his eyes, “well, you should probably get started then,” you mumble, nudging your chin into the direction of your door, subtly kicking him out.

“Yeah,” he breathes and looks back down, eying the cover of your beloved book, “what are you doing tomorrow night?”

Just leave, please. You think to yourself.

“Why?”

“Well, we could start working on it tomorrow,” he offers.

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want to work with him, you don’t want to see him but agreeing to it will get him out of your house sooner, “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

You can feel his eyes on you, he is staring and it makes you want to both scream and cry. Leave, just leave.

“I’ll get going.” He steps away, taking one last look at you before he turns around, “good night, y/n.”

You don’t say anything back, you stay silent, refusing to even look at him. You don’t notice the way he halts in his tracks when his eyes fall on the picture on your wall, the only one left of him. Steve knows that you didn’t keep it up because of him but it still makes something inside of him burn. There’s no other reminders of him left, only this one. You could have cut him out but you didn’t, you kept him there. His eyes soften and he glances at you. You are still standing there in the same spot, with your arms crossed and your gaze stuck to the floor. The urge to– no. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to leave.

Your fingernails dig into your arms, you bite your lip as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. The lump in your throat begins to grow. Why did he show up? You hear him walking down the stairs and it feels like forever until he reaches the door. The sob begins to threaten to escape.

You slowly make your way towards your bedroom door, shutting it quietly. You press your back against it and look up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your cheeks the minute you let your guard down.

“I hate you, Steve Harrington.”

Cold water dribbles down on him, making goosebumps rise up on his skin, he shivers at the feeling but sighs in content when he feels himself getting more energized again. Basketball practice tired him more than usual but that was probably because he stayed up all night, reading pride and prejudice. To his surprise, he ended up liking it more than he thought. Though he can’t stand Darcy for some reason.

Another thing that kept him up was you. Your indifference, your lack of emotions, the anger and the sadness he had seen in your eyes the last time you had looked at him was gone. There is nothing in your eyes now, just simply nothing. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, it should make him feel relieved to know that you are not hurting anymore but somehow it hurts him to know that you just don’t care anymore.

He didn’t love you but you loved him, at least that’s what he always believed.

Did you realize that you never loved him either?

“What’s wrong, Harrington? Did you realize that you’re a shit player?”

He can’t even help but sigh in annoyance. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He waited until everyone was done showering, not feeling like interacting with anyone, he didn’t know that Billy was still around, if he knew, he would’ve been the first in the shower.

He opens his eyes and glares at him.

Billy looks at him with a smirk on his face, he turns the water on and closes his eyes as he steps under the stream.

Steve decides to ignore him, turning his head away from him, he reaches for his shampoo with shaky hands. Just the presence of Billy is enough for him to shake out of anger. He hates him so much.

“Heard you were at y/n’s house last night.”

At that, Steve tenses up. How and why does he know? He keeps his eyes down as he begins to wash his hair.

“Yeah, so?”

Billy chuckles, taking a moment to reply.

“What were you doing there?”

“How’s that any of your business?” Steve mumbles in annoyance.

Billy shrugs, narrowing his eyes at him, “when assholes like you go to their ex-girlfriends house it’s usually to fuck,” he says, smirking.

Steve shakes his head, “we’re working on an essay together.”

“Mhm.”

To his surprise, Billy keeps quiet for the remaining time. Steve quickly finishes up and leaves the shower after wrapping a towel around his waist, wanting to escape him as quickly as he can.

Steve can’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than a minute, he always felt that way about him but especially after hearing those rumors about you and Billy from Tommy and Carol. It still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Back in the locker room, he scrunches his face up in disgust, it smells like sweat, too much deodorant and cologne in here. No one is around anymore, everyone has already left.

Steve reaches for his dirty clothes and stuffs them into his duffle bag before he starts getting dressed. He puts on a pair of boxers and his jeans and reaches for his belt when Billy walks back in.

Steve’s jaw feels tense from all the clenching but he can’t stop it. Every time he sees him, he thinks of you and him together. He thinks of you being touched by him, of you being kissed by him, of you being– god, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of you being touched by Billy Hargrove or any other man for that matter.

He knows that there is a huge chance that you aren’t with him or with anyone else but he can’t be too sure.

“Did you fuck her?”

Billy smirks when the question finally tumbles out of Steve’s mouth, he knows that he has been dying to ask. He stays silent and puts his clothes on instead, taking his time with it.

Steve puts his sweater over his head and turns around to face Billy, who is already staring at him smugly as he dries his hair with the white towel.

Steve’s nostrils flare and he feels like throwing a punch at him already, he clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?” Billy smirks.

He stiffens a little, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to do what he so badly wants to do.

“I don’t know the answer, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Why do you want to know?” Billy chuckles as he tilts his head to the side, he throws the towel back on the bench and puts his white tank top on, “you dumped her.”

Billy walks towards him slowly, he looks confident, he always does. He looks directly into his eyes, the smugness remaining on his face.

“Let me tell you something.”

Steve drops his arms to his sides and puffs out his chest, raising his chin slightly. His heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but out of anticipation.

“When you came to school with your new little plaything, she left. I found her behind the school, she was crying.”

Nothing good will come out of his mouth next, Steve already knows it. The thought of you crying over him does little to mend the anger in his chest.

“Wanna know what I did?” Billy asks, raising his brows. He licks his lips and grins a little as he steps closer.

Steve nudges his chin up.

“I took her home and I fucked her so hard that she forgot that you ever existed. In fact, I think a good fuck was all it needed,” Billy chuckles darkly as he looks him up and down, “‘cause you clearly never fucked her good enough.”

Steve is seething, burning and trembling with anger. The smirk on the blond’s face is only fueling his anger.

“Now I’m not the only one,” Billy smirks at the angry look on Steve’s face. His cheeks are red, the brown in his eyes vanished completely, all there is now is blackness. He is not just angry, he is in rage and Billy is loving it. “A little birdie told me that she’s been sneaking around with one of the stoners, so..” Billy laughs, turning around with satisfaction in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know whether to throw a punch, to scream at him or at himself for feeling this way. He wants to throw up at the thought of you fucking Billy, of you sneaking around with some loser.

Billy grabs his stuff, he puts on his brown leather jacket. He can sense Steve’s anger and it makes him feel more satisfied than ever.

“Let me tell you a little secret, Steve. Girls like her, the ones who get left behind by their daddies, they’re a little damaged but they keep going. They still got a little hope left, but the moment they get their heart broken by some asshole they fall in love with, they’re damaged beyond repair. Even if you come crawling back to her and she ends up being stupid enough to take your sorry ass back, she will never be the same again. You crushed her poor little heart.”

Steve is breathing heavily, his knuckles are white from how hard he is clenching his fist. He would love nothing more than to finally throw that punch but he holds himself back, knowing that it will only make things even worse.

Billy slaps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, he chuckles, “loosen up, King Steve, go and get your little geek. I’ll take care of y/n, I think she’s better off with me anyways. At least she feels something when I fuck her.”

And with that, Billy leaves him standing, knowing the damage he caused, it leaves him more satisfied than ever, to know that he messed with him— to know what it takes to mess with him.

next part

only tagging friends!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

Note

no please bc just once I wanna make hobie nervous flustered.. like why can’t he can’t be intimated by me why I always gotta be intimidated by him 🙄🙄

TRULLLYY The opportunities are endless!! Let's talk about it!!!!!!!!!!!

Hobie Brown Loves Feminists and Defying the Patriarchy aka Hobie Brown and Writing write Non-Conventional Romantic Relationships in 'x-readers'

[this is an analysis where I analyze Hobie Brown, non-conventional relationships, and how feminism factors in to it all. Basically a critique/dive/rant into the narrow 'x-reader culture' in the Hobie Fandom

I touch on issues in Smut, labels, and how we can write 'Y/N's that challenge that status quo and fit Hobie better. I also break down how I personally use feminist themes to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie.] [Also there's now a PART 2 HERE]

Despite the man from the 1970's - the era of bra-burning second-wave feminism - I don't ever think I've seen anyone talk about it, him, and how it influences him.

We all know Hobie isn't down with labels, but it seems like in X-Fem!Reader, the only two options out there are play-boy guitarist and traditional out-of-the-box boyfriend.

Hobie. The man he follows no social quo. Don't expect flowers from him.

Hobie diverges from the norm in nearly every way, and he does it purposefully and intentionally. And I think that'd extend to his romantic relationships too.

So why do we only see him in heteronormative, traditional gender-role based relationships?

Would Hobie be into this? And does the way we write him and his relationships in x-writers serve Hobie emotionally, allowing him to be a full character? (No, they don't.)

How can begin to acknowledge that, just like Hobie cares about race, and class, and housing and queer rights - he'd care about feminism too.

And how would that influence him in romance? How can we start writing healthier x-reader's?

We have enough insecure, blushing 'Y/N's being woo'd by [insert tumblr sexy man]'. Hobie can have so much more - in the words of Beyonce "Where the ladies up in here who like to talk back?!"

Hobie Brown, Romance, and Gender Roles

Why can I be the one calling him 'love', and 'darling', and 'sweetheart'?

Where's the fic where I'm the one comforting and taking care of him when he's sick/down?

Why can't Hobie be the one asked to be held?

There's something lacking here!!!!!!!

I honestly think Hobie would be into it, and find it very attractive - having a feminine partner who defies gender roles in their relationship purposefully and proudly.

Hobie loves subverting expectations and challenging society. So, and seeing many people unthinkingly assume he'd have a completely normal, routine heterosexual relationship without question -- uhhh I don't like that!!!

Like, Hobie is very clearly attractive. He's like 6'5", a guitarist, and punk. Let's be real, people of any gender are gonna be flirting with him, whether he's into it or not. He without a doubt gets flirted at all the time.

I think he'd love someone who cuts the bullshit and is like "You're really cute. I've got the biggest crush on you."

Not in a pushy way, but a relaxed way.

But I hardly ever see the x-reader advances being initiated by the reader. Why? It can be really nice to take the confidence to ask someone out and they say yes.

In fact, a lot of x-readers are written demure, passive, and down-right unhealthy in their ability to defend themselves and stand alone. So many are based off the x reader needing Hobie for some reason, whether it be confidence, or protection, or for him to teach them something.

Never Hobie needing the reader for something. Never Hobie being the one to express emotion and need comfort.

Which is funny, because Hobie can show emotions like anger, which he does in the comics. That's NEVER brought up in fics. In no fic do we have the reader witness Hobie hitting someone with a guitar or kicking them in the face. Which Hobie does do.

No, that's too violent for the romanticized fandom of Hobie. He has to be the good boyfriend to the shy girlfriend.

And I feel like there's a reason many of these x-readers are written this way - is heteronormativity and a dash of misogyny-flavored sexism involved??? maybe.

Especially with x fem readers, feminine people are always expected to be passive and submissive. Women in the real world are expected to mute their advances and 'be coy' for the sake of sexist 'respectability'.

We're taught that 'giving them the eyes' is (somehow??) an 'advance'. Or that you have to wait to be asked out or else you're 'too forward'.

[Insert Barbie Movie Monologue here]

Personally, I think Hobie would be SO refreshed by a girl who comes up to him and is like "Hey, are you busy on Friday? Do you wanna meet me then? I wanna go on a date with you."

Because, realistically 95% of the people in the Hobie fandom - including me - would probably be too nervous to even speak a sentence to Hobie.

So for someone to approach him directly, state their intentions, and be so open to potential rejection, that's impressive - I think he'd LOVE that shit!!!

I think it's a nice juxtaposition to have him with someone who diverges from the 'demure ideal of a girlfriend'.

A girl who walks around like Jessica Drew. Walks in the room like "My man is SEXY AF and he about to walk in so LOOK. BE JEALOUS."

I imagine so many people around him try to act like they DON'T like Hobie when they clearly do - and he can tell. So to have someone who isn't hiding it is a kind of candidness that differs from it all.

So often are women forced into the passive role of waiting to be 'chosen'. Fuck that, you want him, go get him.

Hobie, Romance, and Labels

I also think Hobie would REALLY like a partner who knows what they want.

I always see people be like 'Hobie doesn't like labels!! He wants to keep it casual!' or 'Nooo he was kidding about the labels thing - he'd love a committe-'

WHO SAYS HE'D BE THE ONE DEFINING THE SITUATION????????? WHO SAID HE GETS THE LAST SAY???!!!!!

I feel like Hobie would go fucking NUTS for a girl who is straight up like "yeah I'm just trying to fuck. Are you okay with that?" or "I like what we've got going on. I'm not looking for anything serious, but let's keep going."

Or a partner that is very clear about their labels. A person who's like "I like you but if you're not trying to be exclusive I'm gonna get a move on." Because he's not gonna have you out here looking DUMB, people better know you're in the mfing picture.

That's some grown ass shit! It shows she knows what she wants and that she's not wavering on it, even for him. He's with it. I don't think Hobie would be down to be like "I'm ur boyfriend now" OR "I'm ONLY down for fucking lol srry'.

She gets a say too. And she should be clear on what she wants.

If she's the one to take the initiative and name the game - that's great for him. He's down for whatever, what is it that YOU wanna do??

Hobie, Romance, and Intimacy (like for the grown folks 18+) __________________________________

🔞

In a LOT of fic and especially SMUT, it's always Hobie making the advances, or at least initiating them. In society, women are taught that's how is, that being sexually 'aggressive' and proactive - not just SUGGESTIVE - is inappropriate.

Wait till Hobie slaps your ass, then the smut could start. Wait till Hobie kisses you, then there's romance.

Nah, I'm the one smacking his ass. I'm the one pulling his belt loop saying Come 'ere. What if I'm the one who wants to pull him down for a first kiss, huh??? I gotta wait??

Even in dialogue-

In a lot of fics Hobie can talk as raunchy as ever, but the woman can't say 'pussy'? Hobie can say three sentences straight about how my coochie feel but the reader only gets to moan submissive requests back??

Can the dirty talk be two-sided? Because women should be allowed to be vocal in their pleasure.

Hobie can tell you he wants you to suck his dick, but when's the reader gonna say "Come eat this pussy like you mean it." HM??????

In fics the reader can only be suggestive - in order to bait him into initiating, like sending him a suggestive picture or throwing a bra on stage. But it's hardly ever the other way around. With the reader being the one to say 'Enough of the teasing, we fucking NEOW.'

Because in our society, a guy slipping a girl's shirt off to get the scene going is hot. But a woman going for a guys belt before he begins to undress her - nooo, that's too forward.

Maybe Hobie wants to feel like the sexy, desired, sought after one.

_______________________________________________

Hobie, Romance and Feminism

Let it be known: Hobie loves people who are socially educated!!!!

If you can look at him and explain what anarchism actually is - like in a politcal theory sense - I think he'd be impressed, because you're seeing through the 'pseudo-rockstar' persona he puts on.

Most if not all of his actions are choice are driven by political action, so having a partner educated in things like anarchy or communism just makes sense with him. Hobie cares about stuff like that, and actually goes out of his way to study and live in line with those ideals.

That includes feminism!!!

I think Hobie would love a girlfriend who is invested in feminism, cares about it, and thinks about it in her decision making.

A woman that is educated about her oppression and how to combat it, and purposefully goes against the strict stereotype labeled on women - especially feminine women - as an act of protest.

A girl who can and will defend herself, go off on, or put a sexist pig in their place. You can't tell me he wouldn't be into that.

Social movements of the oppressed are super important to Hobie, and I think feminism is the same, but I never see it mentioned.

I definitely think that Hobie would have a clear understanding of his privilege as a man and how that effects relationships.

I can see him being like "I'd never propose." Not because he hates labels, but because he acknowledges that for centuries marriage was used as a financial and social transaction to oppress and control women and their bodies, and he doesn't want to be involved in that.

Hit him with that "Same - the gold and diamond rings are trash anyway. Both materials being mined and pillaged in African nations for centuries at the expense of the indigenous populations really puts me off it."

He'd wanna somehow find a way to marry you without marrying you you know what i mean

Hobie loves feminism and feminists. Give him a 70's bra-burning feminism so help me god. He was alive for Roe v. Wade passing (1973), he KNOWS about feminism and probably knows many outspoken feminists.

Hobie, Romance and Individuality

You know what I don't like?

Headcanons or fics that be like "You and Hobie NEVER disagree or argue. Never ever, you always talk it out."

Like...Bullshit. I'm sorry but I don't think it's very realistic.

Hobie is a very opinionated too. He's very outspoken and when it comes to topics, and he usually knows exactly where he stands. I think, without a doubt he'd care what his partner thinks too.

Asking them about a record that's playing, or what they think of a movie they saw in the past, or a new political issue going on. He'd absolutely ask, because he cares. He's interested.

If if ya'll are never disagreeing that means:

Either you agree with his opinion all the time without fail or exception OR

You're biting your tongue around him

I don't think one is very realistic in terms of things. You can't like every song your boyfriend likes. You can't like every movie he shows you, or agree on EVERY political issue. That's not how people are.

And for two - if you're biting your tongue around him, he'll notice.

Yes, Hobie is a very emotionally intelligent person and extremely compassionate. But he's also very strong in his morals, thoughts, and beliefs. He doesn't budge.

If you're biting your tongue, I'd imagine he'd be like "You wanna say something." or "Whatever you're thinking just say it." cause he can see it in your face.

He's not trying to put you on the spot, he just wants to know what you're thinking.

When you explain what you're thinking, he's probably gonna wanna hear why, and respond, etc etc.

Hobie is a very individualistic person, and I think he'd be drawn to someone who is as well. Someone who is solid in their opinions and personhood enough to express them.

It leads to interesting conversation and knowing each other deeper -It's a form of intimacy.

If you watch a film with him and don't like it, he's gonna ask why. Did you not like the theme? Was the dialogue bad? What part did you think sucked the most, he thought x, y, z. What do you think about the part he disliked, did you notice a,b,c?

I feel like Hobie would want to know his partner deeply, and he'd care and love the things that make them different from each other.

Including differing opinions.

Discussions and debates aren't bad. Discussing something and getting heated defending your point can be really fun and stimulating, if it's with someone you care about and the two parties are mature and not assholes.

Tell him why you think he's wrong about something - he wants an excuse to talk more about his opinion. INTELLECTUALLY CHALLENGE HIM DONT JUST AGREE.

Along with being very individualistic, Hobie is very independent. He refused to rely on the Society for their watches - he made his own. So I think the next important thing to him is:

Hobie, Romance and Independence

I like the idea of Hobie having a partner that has their own place and is committed to that, and their space.

Or a partner that emotionally supports him!!

95% of the time, he's the one asking what's wrong, or holding reader, or comforting them.

Can we get hectic bf and organized girlfriend energy?? A gf where he says plans during missions and she's like "What are you thinking? You're gonna get us killed."

A gf that soothes HIM when he gets angry - cause comic Hobie GETS angry, especially after a fight.

Give me ONE, ONE fic where he's drunk coming from a pub and READER has to deal with drunk Hobie and put him to bed.

Hobie is ALWAYS expected to take care of himself, and the people around him. He takes pride in this and he's good at it. But why should he have to do it all the time?

_____________________________________________

In general,

Hobie is a confident person. He knows what he wants, and how to handle himself, and how to approach people and get respect just by being himself. He's assured, and outspoken, and VERY independent. He does what he wants, when he wants and lets you know when it happens

I think pairing him with a confident, assured, outspoked, independent person is only natural. I think him having a relationship with a personality like his would be a ROCK SOLID one.

There's be no fics like 'Groupies were bullying you' because his she would be like "Sis, if I swing on you he isn't gonna hold me back so be careful."

I want a reader that when they do that trope of 'A girl was flirting in front of him making you insecure and uncomfortable' - The reader squashes it right there. Like "Girl, I know you see me standing here. You know we're together. Cut the cute shit!!"

I'm tired of fics taking me for an insecure, submissive, demure, sexually innocent, wimp of a babydoll girlfriend that needs to be babied at every turn. There's nothing wrong with being shy and demure, but when it's all you're offering it's not gonna cut it.

Especially not for Hobie Brown.

Let the tall, dark, actively oppressed black man be the one to vent, or be held, or romanced, and spoken sweetly too. There's so many comfort fics, but not many of them consider Hobie's own trauma - and how a relationship could include that.

Hobie Brown deserves more.

_______________________________________________

If you wanna know how I use this to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie, that's below this break.

Okay so I'mma leave it here but if you read this far, thank you!!!! I be SO pissed when fics be talking me (Y/N) as a punk (in the wimpy sense not the Hobie sense). Like...nah I wouldve said something in a lot of situations. Irk my last nerve. Like the one where the girl PINCHES you??? Like?? Nah I we would've been fighting, I'm sorry this is unrealistic

Alsooo the section below is about my Spidersona Disco-Spider and how I encorporated all of this into her creation- because I wanted to write a sona who subtly defied gender roles while still being feminine. So if you wanna read there thank you so much, and if not, thanks for reading this far! He's a pic of Hobie in thanks!

[If you wanna check out Part 2 for direct examples, how to write NCRs, and a more in depth look into Disco and Hobie - check it out here]

_______________________________________________

DiscoSpider Diane and The Great Groupie Act [How I use all of this to a write a feminist Spidersona and a non-conventional relationship]

Diane is a HUGE Hobie Groupie - and that's kinda of her main thing.

She runs the Hobie Brown Fanclub on campus, attends all his shows, and wears his guitar pick. She's into him and she's not afraid to show it.

I wanted to write Diane as a purposeful groupie, one who is fine with the title, and even leans into it. Because a lot of the time - and in a lot of fics including guitarists - 'groupie' is seen as a negative thing.

Like K-pop stans, being a 'groupie' - and openly expressing your romantic interest in a hot guy is seen as desperation.

But I wanted to write her as one in spite of this. To swap 'desperation' for unwavering boldness. A girl with the motto 'Closed mouths don't get fed'.

And much like Hobie uses the 'typical punk' label to disarm others, I wanted Diane to mirror that - in the opposite direction.

Diane is a self-proclaimed groupie. And because of that, many (mainly misogynists) assume that she can't think for herself - or at all. And Diane can use that to her advantage.

If Miguel and Jess really believe she only cares about conversations involving Hobie, then they'll talk like she isn't there. And she can listen. If it looks like she's hanging all over him, no one realizes if she's slipping him information.

And it also helps in their relationship.

They both enjoy their privacy.

HQ prohibits relationships between Spidey-people. It's an anomaly waiting to happen - and they make sure to keep a close eye out for it. Plus with Jess breathing down her neck, it's much easier for Diane and Hobie to just keep it underwraps.

In comes the Groupie persona.

No one actually expects the groupie to get the guy. She's desperate, and he's the player guitarist. Plus, if they were dating she couldn't be a 'groupie' right? They wouldn't make sense, would it?

They let people make their own assumptions. By calling herself a groupie, suddenly people think there's no possible way there's something going on, and they don't look closer.

This also allows them the freedom of no labels. Are they boyfriend and girlfriend? Nah she's his groupie. Quit asking questions.

All of this allows me to write Disco in a way that connects back to everything in this post.

By calling herself a 'Groupie' suddenly Diane can subvert expectations of affection, avoid the pressures of labels, and control her image and the amount of information she lets on to people

That in turn helps me write their relationship in a nonconventional way - a way that challenges misogyny around affection and reclaims a sexist fan trope for something more empowering.

Sure, the concept seems silly at first. The ditsy, bubbly, party girl on campus, but I wanted there to be a reason and drive behind it.

Disco-Spider Diane is exactly who she wants to be, an unapologetic, outspoken disco-girl. One that's highly educated and knows her shit.

And also a huge groupie.

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

If you've read this far, thank you so much. It genuinely means a lot to me! This is reaaaaaallly long.

[Part 2 here]

Now how about you take this photo of Hobie and we both pretend like me writing this is normal well-adjusted behavior okay? okay

Bye.

#im back and I got something to say!!!!!!#these are just my opinions and Headcanons #but also they're correct I know because I'm with Hobie right now in my mind palace and he told me all this #no proofread ever lolllll #spiderman #atsv #hobie brown #marvel #spider man #spider punk #spiderpunk #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #atsv anaylsis

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wutheringmights · 27 days

Text

After I finished reading The Epic of Gilgamesh today, I entered a fugue state where I sat down and read the entirety of Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

On the record, I have had a lifelong love and adoration for Pierce's Tortall books. I first read the Song of the Lioness quartet when I was 11, and they rewrote my brain. I love them so much. I reread them and the other Tortall books on a semi-frequent schedule.

It's been a while since I reread any of the Alanna books, if only because my sister took our shared copies when she moved out. I've been meaning to buy my own set for a long while now but haven't been able to justify the purchase. The other week, I just so happened to find the first two volumes at my local indie bookstore. I bought them immediately, as well as ordered the third and fourth book. (And discovered that the store owner knows me by name-- when I went to pick up my order, she saw me and said, Hi Frankie! I got your books over here.) (I may be spending too much money there.)

So I have been in a bit of an emotional rut these past few weeks. Work sucks. Life stinks. The temptation to run off to Tortall and curl up in the fantasy story that captivated me as a kid has never been stronger.

Ergo, I ran off to read the first book as soon as I could.

If you're looking for any critique of this book, series, or Tortall in general, I will never give it. Sure, it's problematic and dated, and in many ways imperfect, but someone else can list out all of its issues. They're all perfect to me.

Anyway, the book. I should say something about this book in particular.

One thing I appreciate about Pierce's writing is how she handles school settings in fantasy. Learning and training is so mundane. All of her heroines have to work hard and put in extra hours of study in order to improve, much less keep up with their peers. It's so normal that it circles around to being weirdly refreshing.

Also, there is still no other fantasy author who handles period talk and birth control the way Pierce does. We make fun of the trope of fantasy birth control nowadays, but I rarely see it presented as it is here: as a part of normal puberty lessons and given long before sex is in the girl's radar. And even today with the glut of YA fantasy stories out there, I still have yet to see menstruation be portrayed as frequently or as bluntly as Pierce writes it.

There was a period of time publishers really tried to push the Tortall books as straight YA, which doesn't work for that reason alone. You gotta market them to middle schoolers. They're the ones just starting puberty talks, and getting scenes like this is so good for their brains.

Moving on: I fucking love these characters. Alanna was an icon of brash, temperamental heroines that have shaped my taste to this day. I love how even in the first book, Jon is kinda shitty. I adore George Cooper. Talk about a taste maker the way this man sets a standard.

I just can't be coherent when it comes to any Tortall books. I have no thoughts. Head empty. I am going to binge the rest of this series as quickly as I can before my library book comes in. Then normal book content will resume.

Before I go, I need to talk about the book covers.

Growing up, my sister and I had these covers:

Which, god. I love them. The black is striking. The art is incredible. Alanna looks so good. They were the perfect pocket-size too. I was going to buy the same edition for my copies, but instead I got the 40th anniversary reprints:

Not bad at all! These books have had some seriously bad covers, and these look great! Very anime, which will appeal to the 11 year olds who need to have their socks rocked by this series.

But, man. I really miss those black covers. One day I will splurge and buy a second set of them just so that I can stare at the art.

#having a not normal time on tumblr dot come right now #alanna my beloved #if you were a deity i would worship you #me rambling #me reading #bookish #books and reading #books #bookblr #Alanna: the first adventure #the song of the lioness #tortall #tamora pierce

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changisworld · 3 months

Note

fwb + jelous seungmin please....................................

OMG YES YES YES & YES AGAIN!!

i got carried away while writing this but i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it<3

Main masterlist here

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut

WORD COUNT; 3,684

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

any reblogs/ comments are deeply appreciated!!

WARNINGS; Dom! seungmin, Sub!reader, ruined orgasm, thigh riding, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, dacryphilia, begging, meanie seungmin, daddy kink, jealous seungmin, choking, hair pulling, finger sucking,slapping ((!! LACK OF PROPER AFTERCARE!! it’s brief!!)) Other skz members are mentioned, it’s IDOL!AU

OTHER WARNING; this story involves alcohol, reader & seungmin are tipsy but sober enough to make adult decisions. Both non-verbally consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are currently backstage with the members & a few members of staff, helping them pack their items away to leave the showcase, after winning yet another award. You got acquainted with the boys through work, you were called asking if you wanted to be a stylist for a ‘well known kpop group’ & you thought of the money & obviously said yes, but you were in disbelief when it was straykids you would be styling. You were very nervous & shy at first to be working with them but you have now became one of their closest friends other than the other boys themselves & have worked with them for almost 3 years.

They regularly invite you over to their dorm to watch the latest kdramas, let you watch them record their music so you can ‘get an idea of the vibe for the outfits’(changbins words) & so on. Out of all the guys, you would say your closest friend is hyunjin… but behind closed doors, seungmin is your closest friend by a mile. Seungmin & you would not necessarily avoid each other, but you got a vibe he didn’t really like you so you would only really speak when necessary, but that all changed one night when you, Seungmin, Jeongin & Bangchan were at the dorms watching movies but you had all run out of snacks so Jeongin & Chan went to the store to get some more. One thing lead to another & you & Seungmin ended up kissing & his dick somehow ended up in your mouth.

Ever since then, Seungmin would somehow find ways to get you alone, whether that be dragging you into a janitor cupboard or making up a random issue with the outfit during dress rehearsals just so you could both leave the room to completely fix the issue, just for him to instead, completely ruin your cunt while his members are in the next room completely unaware.When you don’t come back since your legs can no longer do what they are intended for, the guys wouldn’t really think too much if you didn’t come back with him since they all know how busy you are with phone calls & things, but in the odd occasion they do ask, seungmin has a smooth tongue & can think of an excuse that wont make them think twice.

You all finish packing the boys items away & leave through the back door & divide yourselves into the 3 5 seater cars, You end up with another staff member in the front, Hyunjin on your left, you in the middle & As your luck has it… seungmin on the right. You & seungmin have previously agreed to try keep your arrangement secret just so you both don’t need to hear about it 24/7 from other members, so he only speaks when spoken to.

You & hyunjin talk about random things & share some laughs, hyunjin tries to include seungmin in the conversation but he dismisses it, you can tell he’s not tired so you don’t know what’s bothering him.

“Minnie don’t get too tired, we still gotta celebrate, we have a booth booked at the other end of Seoul since we won” Hyunjin reaches over you & taps seungmin playfully, he just smiles at him & looks out the window, ‘strange but okay’ you think to yourself.

After a quick stop back at the dorms & changing into better clothes for the occasion (yes you have some clothes at their dorm saved for things like this) You along with just the guys & some security come with you. You take one last look in the mirror by the front door & make sure you look okay, your figure is complimented beautifully by the dress you are wearing, curves looking flattering in all the right places.

“Oh look y/n we are matching! wearing the same colour”

You turn around & smile as you see hyunjin, wearing a satin dress shirt matching the colour of your dress, you open your mouth to say something as you see seungmin walk towards the door along with Leeknow which sparks an idea, flirt with hyunjin, afterall you’re not blind you know he’s attractive & secondly, it lights something inside you knowing seungmin will get jealous, but can’t say or do anything about it.

“aw yeah we are jinnie, you look good as always” You shoot him a smile before hearing chan say ‘let’s go’ & you walk ahead, making sure to sway your hips slightly knowing not only seungmin but also hyunjin was no doubt also looking.

You all get to the club not too long after & all make your way to the booth as the security sits not too far away, it’s just you, Changbin & Felix’ girlfriend & then you along with the members themselves, you’re sat next to Han & you made sure you sat next to seungmin too, just to see if he would react. Chan orders some expensive tequila to the table & you all start chatting amongst yourselves, you feel your eyes being pulled back to hyunjin every few minutes though, listening intensely to everything he would say, watching the way his lips moved. Seungmin hit you slightly on your leg when he notices you pretty much eye-fucking him from the other end of the table, you shoot a glance to seungmin & pretty much see fire in his eyes, you give him a cheeky smile then turn away again to continue your conversations.

Around an hour later Half of the members had gotten up & spread across the club, either dancing or at the bar getting drinks, you have no idea. You were sat with Changbins girlfriend when he comes over & sweet talks her away, probably to go fuck in the dirty bathroom. you roll your eyes as they leave & finish your drink before you crawl out of the end of the booth up to the bar to get another one.

You order your drink while putting your body weight into the bar as you lean against it, swaying your head to the music playing when you feel someone tapping your arm as they stand next to you, you look to your side & see it’s seungmin, who doesn’t look the most impressed person on earth

“what the fuck do you think you’re playing at y/n hm?

“what are you even talking about min-seungmin, you’ve been all weird since this morning what’s bothering you hmmm?”

you ask him with slightly hooded eyes, feeling tipsy, giving you a bit more confidence than usual, meaning you feel more comfortable teasing seungmin

“you. you’re bothering me. eyefucking my friend as you’re sat right next to me, complimenting him too, what the fuck are you playing at?”

He asks you, eyebrows raised before leaning in & speaking at a normal noise level, just loud enough for only you to hear over the loud music.

“Do you forget who you belong to baby hm? does your brain actually melt that much every time my dick is inside you you can’t remember who is fucking you hm? is that why you’re getting me & hyunjin confused?”

you blush at his words & your stomach & you know it’s not because of the alchohol. You go to open your mouth before Jeongin comes up to you both & after a few minutes of talking, Seungmin & Jeongin leave to go do something you didn’t even listen to.

You take a deep breath, flustered at what seungmin said to you, you finally receive your drink, you grab the straw when you feel yet another person tapping your arm. You sway yourself around to see hyunjin this time.

“since when were you n seungmin friends hm?” he asks you, smirking down at you slightly, eyebrow piercing shining from all the lights.

“ah, he was just asking for eh, drink recommendations, he didn’t like the sound of what i recommended though” You joke with him, he buys your story.

“ahh, well what drink do you have hm? that looks good” He nods towards your drink

“ahh, it’s a strawberry daiquiri, you never had one? you’re missing out”

“hmm i don’t think so, but i don’t want to order one & not like it you know? could i have a sip pleeeaaaaseee”

He gives you a smile full of teeth & you wanna see where this goes, his smile is so compelling afterall, it’s thee hwang hyunjin

“you’re a millionaire, im sure you can afford it jinnie but hmm,i’m feeling nice today & since you won that award you can have a SIP.” You offer your drink to him & he takes a sip from the thick paper straw the bartender gave you. He lets out a hum of approval before using the straw to scoop out the half strawberry that’s also in your drink & putting it in-between his fingers.

“hey no! i wanted that, don’t eat it hyunjin!”

You try to snatch your drink along with the strawberry out his hand but he simply moves it away from you, his arms being longer than yours.

“I want it too thoughhhh, why not we just share hm? here, i’ll put some of the strawberry in my mouth & then you pit the other part in your mouth hm? we can take a bite each”

You scan your eyes around the room & see seungmin, Jeongin & also Leeknow were back at the booths, taking shots but seungmin kept glancing at you, you smile at hyunjin again, now knowing he is watching you.

“sounds fun, so fineee, i want the top half though!” Hyunjin laughs as he flips it around so he has the bottom half & leans forward & down, so you can lean in & get the other half. You both suck the flavouring out of the strawberry & you decide to take it a step further by biting the strawberry, making you lean in that bit closer & kissing the side of hyunjins lips.

You lean back & giggle at his slightly flushed expression & he laughs a bit too after a moment

“didn’t know you were such a flirt y/n, wouldn’t think you were the type”

“i guess i’m just full of surprises then hmm”

you playfully hum, playing with your hair & looking into his eyes.

“Why not, i quickly go to the bathroom & then we can go dance hm?”

“that would be wonderful jinnie, don’t keep me waiting”

Hyunjin gives you a wink before walking through the crowd of people, out of sight.

You smile to yourself & start drinking your drink again when no longer than 30 seconds later, you’re being dragged by the arm. You don’t even need to properly look at the face to know who it is, the familiar sized & shaped rings along with those fingers, you can tell from a mile away. You are practically running by how fast seungmin is walking past the crowds of people. Once you end up outside the club you finally yank your arm away.

“seungmin what the fuck are you doing? that’s one way to cause a damn scene?! do you just simply forget who you are? people could be watching!”

“i don’t give a fuck! & no MY question is do you forget who you are? kissing hyunjin? are you fucking serious?”

“it was a kiss on the side of the damn lips seungmin, we simply shared a strawberry from my daiquiri, speaking of which, you want a sip hm? maybe not from the straw though, hyunjins germs are on that”

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully before holding your drink out & shaking it around slightly.Seungmins jaw clenches & he knocks the class out of your hand, it smashing on the sidewalk beside you.

“what the fu-“

“shut the hell up, wait right here y/n i’m warning you” Before you can even ask him a question he is hastily walking away from you back into the club, anger pretty much physically radiating off him. You scoff & start kicking some random rocks you find on the ground, saddened by your delicious drink that’s now all over the floor.

A minute later seungmin comes back out with a set of car keys, given to him by one of the security guards who was watching over the other members, how he got himself out of having one of the guards wanting to follow him is beyond you. He walks straight past you across the parking lot to one of the tinted windowed cars & unlocks it, expecting you to follow, & follow you do.

Once you both get over to the car he swings open the back door & turns around to look at you, his eyes scan you up & down in your dress.

“get in.” You don’t think twice before practically leaping into the back seat & scooting over so your back is against the other side door, Seungmin crawls in after you & shuts the door before locking it, away from peeping eyes.

As soon as the lock clicks, he is on you like a house on fire. You both start roughly making out, teeth clashing together & tongues fighting for dominance. He starts biting & pulling your bottom lips as he is practically ripping off the top of your dress, exposing your lack of bra.

“No bra? seriously? you were seriously *begging* to be fucked hm? who were you hoping to fuck you huh? me? or hyunjin??”

You look at him dazed, trying to appreciate how good he looks when he is angry but you snap out of it as he slaps your tit making you jump.

“was just uncomfortable to wear, you have never complained before” You say to him, lips reddened by the intense kissing, breathing through your teeth due to lack of breath. Seungmin smirks before putting his hand across your neck & squeezing slightly before you can even blink & leans into your ear & says:

“you wanna tease hm? you know how that works out for you, y/n how drunk are you hm?” He bites your earlobe before moving back slightly to properly look at you, his hand slightly loosening from your neck

“like 3 shots & 2 drinks, i’m not drunk just buzzed, swear.”

“So you just acted like such a whore for no reason hm? trying to get under my skin? or were you trying to get under hyunjins skin physically hm? gonna sleep with him like a slut? at that point you should just fuck all the other members, you’d like that wouldn’t you? it’s disgusting & sad really… so desperate… maybe i’ll just leave right now since i clearly cant satisfy you hmm?” He asks in a condescending tone & you instantly feel your panties get wet at his words.

“minnie please.. i didn’t mean it, only want you, was just a bit of fun, please baby i’m sorry” You put your hand over the one he is holding around your neck & caress it, breathing out your mouth due to the slight lack of air.

“Don’t call me baby you don’t deserve it, if you’re so sorry why not show me hm?show me how much of a desperate whore you are for my attention. take your panties off & straddle me.”

Seungmin lets go of your neck & moves away from you & fully sits on the seat as you scurry to get rid of your wet panties & straddle him. He picks them up off the seat you threw them on & hooks his finger in your mouth to pull it open enough for him to put the soiled panties in your mouth, you whine.

“Now, ride my thigh until you cum. if you can finish yourself off i’ll maybe put my cock in your hole hm? how does that sound?”

He slaps you on the cheek when you don’t reply instantly & pinches your nipples tightly as you nod your head, agreeing before starting a quick & ragged rhythm.

You reach out to hold his chest as you grind on his thigh but he stops you & pulls them away & holds both your wrists together with one of his hands.

“Don’t even think about touching me, you don’t deserve it, god knows where your hands have been.” He says, words full of venom. You feel your eyes tearing up from lack of pleasure but also his words, you love it so badly.

You start to feel your high approaching after another 7/8 minutes of grinding against him, your face stained with tears at this point. Seungmin knows you like the back of your hand & right as you start to bubble over, he uses his strength to lift your hips off his thigh, ruining your orgasmn. you begin squirming & whining, heartbroken over the orgasm that slipped through your fingers. He tosses you so you’re lying across the seats on your back as he spreads your legs & slotting himself between them.

He pulls his dick out, looking hard enough to smash a window & Jerks it a few times before slapping it over your dripping heat.

“Beg me, tell me *why* you deserve it.”

You pull the panties that are still stuffed in your mouth & toss them aside.

“Minnie please.. i want it so badly, only your cock fills me up right, i need it so badly minnie please”

He rolls his eyes at your words but slots just the tip at your entrance & pushes ONLY the tip in. you let out a tiny whine as he leans over so his face is level with yours.

“open your mouth.” You do as he says no question asked & he spits into your mouth before slapping your tits again then sitting back up. Without warning he buries himself to the hilt & you both let out a moan in unison.

He takes mercy on you & gives you a quick minute to be stretched enough to be comfortable before pulling out again & manhandling you over so you’re now on your hands & knees.

“As much as i hate to say it, i don’t blame hyunjin for fiending over you, your ass is to die for. too bad it’s just for me, isn’t it hunny?”

He smacks your ass before pressing into you again without warning. He starts a relentless pace instantly & your brain practically melts.

“Mi-nnie p-pulease slow down, too-too much..”

You move your hand to push against his pelvis to try stop the hard pounding you’re being given but he just simply grabs your wrist & presses it into your lower back.

“that’s not my name, dumb baby already lost her mind?don’t tell me what’s too much, you know the safe word if you need it. i know your body better than you, better than anyone. you can take it, you will take it. tell me, could hyunjin fuck you like this hm?”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head & his words leave your brain the second they enter it, Seungmin doesn’t like this though & grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail & pulls you up so you’re against his chest, not slowing his pace at all.

“when i ask a question, i want an answer.”

He reaches down & slaps your clit before starting to suck on your neck

“No..no- fuck daddy no! nob-nobody could ever f-fuck me like this, n-not even hyu-“

Before you can even finish saying his name, he stuffs his index & middle finger in your mouth to shut you up. You are thankful for him holding you up by the hair or else you would just be a puddle on the seat. You squeal around his fingers & clench against seungmins dick as you cum all over him, creaming his cock. He fucks you through it before letting go of you carefully enough so you didn’t hurt yourself as he lays you on the seats face down, ass still in the air as he chases his own release.

“Surprised you didn’t squirt this time baby, i would help you get there since i know how messy you love to be but you don’t deserve it. Don’t want you to mess up these seats either for my band mates who would need to sit on this. Only good girls get to cum isn’t that right princess?” He taps your back to get you to respond but only moans come out as a response, your knuckles turning white from gripping the side of the seat.

His thrusts start to get more uneven as he starts groaning & gripping your hips with more strength that’s definitely going to leave bruises. He leans forward so his chest is pressed against your back & sucks a mark into your shoulder as he cums inside you, you feel it filling you & you let out a moan & shiver.

You both stay like that for a minute, catching your breath back. He then pulls out & helps you sit up before he kisses your cheek & moves your damp hair out of your face. He reaches over to the cup holder & grabs a water bottle that was left by one of the other members or drivers in the car & takes a drink before handing it to you, before getting dressed. You don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable. you take a moment to draw a smiley face on the now completely fogged up window & you let out a chuckle, seungmin looks over & chuckles too. He helps you find your panties & helps you put your dress back on & kisses your head.

“Sorry for getting all jealous phycho, but if you go near my friends or anyone for that matter again, it won’t be the same, you’re mine y/n.”

You sigh & think about what he said.

“Until we become anything exclusive i’m not a puppet.”

You pull out your phone to try fix your now completely ruined makeup. Seungmin sighs before unlocking the car door & stepping out.

“i’m going back inside, oh & eh, i’ll think about that.” He says, before closing the door & walking back into the club.

#anon ask #stray kids #seungmin #seungmin x reader #skz smut #kpop smut #smut #skz headcanons #skz x reader #skz imagines #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #felix #han jisung #jeongin #i.n

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hockeybabe · 10 months

Note

hiiii, could you write something for protective matthew knies :))

My Girl || M.Knies

Not my Gif

Pairings: Matthew Knies x gf!reader

Summary: at a club Matthew notices some of his teammates getting a little too close to you for his liking.

Warnings: drinking, both over 21, swearing, jealous matt, matt got some anger issues, suggestive content.

Word count: 696

Note: matt would be so protective especially since he is one of the youngest. also please send in more requests <3

It was nighttime, and the Leafs had won one of their games. It was a normal occasion to party hard after a win. Especially when making the second round for the first time in over nineteen years and fifty-six years since they won the cup. Matthew was part of the first round but got injured. Now that he was healed, the team wanted to party with everyone.

It broke your heart when Matt was told that he wouldn’t be able to play. He loved the game and wanted to go farther with his team, but things just got in his way. You were over the moon when John invited you guys, but Matthew still had doubts, and he also told you that he wouldn’t be drinking.

Matt, stop pouting; they wanted you here, you know, as a team." You said for the hundredth time. "It just doesn’t feel right. I mean, my fucking injury got in-" You placed your finger on Matt’s lips, shushing him. "We are going to go to this club, have a great time, and go home and remember what a great time it was. Got it?" You said with a pointed look.

Matt raised his hand in surrender; he knew better than to upset you at a good event. The cab had come to a stop, stopping right outside the destination. "Can't back out now." You said, smirking at him walking out and giving the driver the right amount of money. Matt grunted behind your back, not liking how your behaviour changed from snapping at him to suggestive faces and comments.

You make it to the front door, waiting for Matt to catch up. "Don’t try anything." He whispered into your ear, pretending to bite it. You shiver as Matt opens the door, waiting for you to enter. Feeling confident, you walked ahead of him, swaying your hips and feeling Matt’s eye watch you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching as you ordered a drink.

Matt was now thankful he came because he got to watch his sexy ass girlfriend act like she was the dominant figure in the relationship. At the bar, you were met by Michael Bunting; he was older than you and Matt but always acted like he was younger. "How’s it going, Y/n?" Michael asked, taking a sip of his glass of bourbon.

"I’m great, Michael." You said it quickly, staring at Matt as he talked to Mitch and Auston. Matt watched you intently with a beer in hand. You knew that Michael wouldn’t try anything unless you wanted his help, and at this point, you were contemplating it. "Tryin' to make Matty boy jealous, aren't you?" Michael asked, smirking. You scoffed, "Maybe." You answered him.

"What do I gotta do?" He asked, looking down at you. You gave him a look because Michael had helped you do stuff like this before. "Don’t be an asshole." You said, looking up at him as he leaned in to whisper gibberish into your ear. Matt, on the other hand, had a tight grip on his glass while watching you two talk in a seductive way.

Matt didn’t like the close proximity between you two. "Go get your girl, Bud." Mitch said snapping Matt out of it. "You look like you're about to kill your teammate. Go." Mitch ordered after looking at Matt’s confused face. Yeah, I’ll be back." Matt responded, placing his glass down and walking towards you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matt stalk towards you with a scowl on his face. "A Little close, aren’t you?" Matt said from behind, wrapping his hand around your waist. "We’re just talking." Michael said, taking a few steps back. "Go talk to a non-taken woman." Matt ordered. You watched as Michael's reaction changed from calm to ‘I’m going to punch him’ really quickly.

"You know what, Michael, we’re gonna go. It was nice talking to you about Matt. I’ll see you around." You said pulling Matt away from his older teammate. Matt sighed and frowned "Now I’m the asshole." Matt mumbled. You laughed as you two headed to the exit. "Good luck in practice."

#hockey #hockey players #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #imagine #nhl smut #toronto maple leafs #fluff #Matt Knies #matthew knies fluff #matthew knies #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies x reader #tml #toronto maple leafs imagine

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livingemkayde · 9 months

Text

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

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brights-place · 3 months

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Trollex X Rapper! S/O

Pairing: Trollex X S/O

Warnings: Lots of Fluff

A/N: Okay my first ever thought today to get me distracted was listening to music so I just shuffled some songs form one of my playlists and a rap song was playing while I was writing and I was like ‘Oh shit I gotta write this!’ Now here we are!

- Trollex with a Rapper! S/O YIPPEEE it was so fun to write this

- When you first met Trollex asked you all about your genre listening to how you explained everything and told him that a rapper is a musical poet technically your job was blending rhythm and rhyme to express stories, emotions, and ideas. They craft lyrics, hone their flow, and perform with energy that captivates audiences. Rappers often reflect on personal experiences or societal issues, becoming voices for their communities like what you did

- He couldn’t stop being interested in you after that and get pulled in more when you rapped into the microphone to show him an example with an random beat he gave

- He can’t help but raise a brow at you sometimes when you rock up to the studio and wait for creativity to strike, usually spending all night to work on your music he gets worried sometimes and tells you to relax and have some fun with him at the Techno reef Parties

- He would definitely make beats for your song and let you freestyle your way with the music he had given you.

- He love sit when you rap especially when you insult someone in an rap battle he finds it funny to see your smirk or smile

- He loves when you write and perform some of your rap songs or hip-hop music.

- He hates how your genre was criticised though sometimes… scratch that he hates when anybody discriminates and insults someone’s genre or music (it’s technically their race in Trolls)

- He loves you with all his heart but can’t help but notice how you and Prince D would vibe to hip hop together and rap he’s jealous of your bond since your technically in the same music genre even if your appearance was different your genre was the same

- Trollex though loves when you share your earbuds/headphones with him to show him some New rap songs or hip hop music you enjoy fucking falls in love with you all over again

- He had tried rapping once since you begged him to do it he was good like REALLY GOOD

- That mother fucker was good at it… not as good as Bruce though that man could go off (Bruce is VA is the guy who played my favourite character in Hamilton Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson. NEHGEHE)

- He glows and has an bigger smile when you praise him as he quickly tackles you into an hug and snuggle into you which leads up to you holding him close to your chest and rubbing his back as he sleeps on your peacefully

- Trollex can’t help but admire how you hold your mic and go off at anybody or just have fun with it

- He loves how you send out messages through your rap speaking up and talking about issues and your own experiences while on stage.

- You know how I said he makes your beats? Well you also come by to his place and surprise him with an rap you wrote out of boredom without realising and asked if he could help make an beat for it

- he did and it was sold so fast 😭

- Trollex loves when you sing normally though even if you rap all the time he loves when you just sing in an slow pace and wants to dance with you slowly even if both of you were used to the loud techno and hip hop music

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#trollex x reader #trolls trollex #trolls band together #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls 3 #trolls dreamworks #trolls fandom #king trollex #trolls world tour #queen barb #poppy #branch #delta trolls #synth trolls #trollstopia #trollex #king trollex x reader

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sgiandubh · 7 months

Text

Labor of love

I was very interested to see what S told Mark Gillespie on the last episode of the latter's WhiskyCast podcast, @bat-cat-reader immediately shared with us.

It was a most instructive 35 minutes. I listened to all of it, because I wanted to also hear Gillespie's tasting notes forThe Sassenach. And I regret nothing: once you get past the traditional (and a bit obnoxious) 'why The Sassenach?' question, you're in for some interesting news.

You can listen to it here, by the way:

Before anything, who is Mark Gillespie?

One of the most respected professionals in the very small world of alcohol specialized podcasters, with a 37 years work experience in media and broadcasting, spanning household names such as CNN, Bloomberg, Wall Street Journal, Gallup and MSNBC. But also, and this I found very interesting, given the current context, the owner of CaskMedia, a firm specialized not only in media production, but also marketing and PR.

The podcast was recorded at The Metropolitan Club's library, moments before the Keepers of the Quaich dinner, where S was a keynote speaker. So not 'just there for the Haggis Ceremony ' - a 'guest of honor' is never invited just for the show, people should have known better, eh?

S's 7 minutes interview starts at the 09:32 mark. Comments in brackets are mine.

Gillespie surely doesn't like to beat around the bush and after the customary niceties, asks a million-dollar question:

MG: 'I have to ask: did you have the troubles (problems?) in Germany straightened up?'

SH: ' Ha, ha, ha [not an organic giggle, but hey - gotta do what you gotta do, eh?]. Well, I am not entirely sure I should talk about it [speaks very quickly and through his teeth - visibly annoyed/nervous; not entirely sure I got it all correctly, so feel free to amend in comments], ah... ummm... not as yet... not as yet...ummm...we did fall into an issue with the name Sassenach, which was similar to a big brand in the US... ah!... in Germany, sorry... of a beer brand... I...I personally don't see the similarity [neither do I, S...neither do I], but I am sure once people taste our whisky, they'll know what it is, whatever the name is on it.'

Yes, this interview was probably rehearsed. Yes, Gillespie might have sent the questions to S/his people in advance for reviewing. No, he could not speak about a legally complicated situation before the final settlement with that Schoppingen beer brewer (penalties are probably still to be fixed and paid, but I will check that, so don't take my word for Gospel truth, yet). I will write separately about this whole thing, because I still think that was a very questionable decision of the EUIPO. Not because it royally pisses me off (so fucking unfair!), but because I really fail to see the proper legal reasoning and basis for it. His answer was perfect, under the circumstances. Absolutely perfect.

Anyways, FWIW, it would seem some sort of solution has already been found ('whatever the name is on it') and that most probably would be to rebrand it. And sell it on the German/EU market under a new name.

Lallybroch (https://trademarks.justia.com/981/67/lallybroch-98167525.html), perhaps? Time will tell, but that could explain this recent trademark application I didn't have time to properly look into, yet:

Further ahead (and fast forward through the cask version release, these things bore me to death), we land on another (as yet) unexploded ordnance:

MG: 'I have to mention your show MIK that you do with Graham McTavish, you visited a bunch of distilleries during that one... any visit in particular stands out?'

Now I am not very sure if that question was the best possible one, since that SAG-AFTRA strike is still an ongoing situation. And his answer was quite clever, changing the focus on their visit to Laphroaig's distillery on Islay and waxing lyrical about the casks, the peat, the landscape, etc. But other than a perfunctory and logical 'we', I heard absolutely nothing about McTavish, and it could have been so damn easy to further change the subject and mention his bourbon, with a few kind words. Therefore, I think things are pretty obviously not exactly on the sunny side, between the two. And I guess we all know why.

To end this long post on a cheerful note, I almost forgot to mention something very important. Answering a listener's question about Sassenach not being available in Rhode Island/part of New Jersey, S said something very interesting: 'obviously you can get it online, (...) we've just signed a deal with Southern Glazer's, so we're rolling it out. It is a limited batch, so you know, every year we do do a release and it is very limited, so it does tend to sell out pretty quick. But yes, it is available (...), but obviously you're not gonna see it in every bar, restaurant or retailer, because we just don't have enough of it. But online you can get it and great delivery service, it's very quick.'

I am taking two things home from this last answer: demand exceeds supply, which is both a blessing (solid yield, room for expansion) and a curse (lackadaisical market presence). On short to mid term, distribution will concentrate on the online market, with the help of Southern Glazer's superb infrastructure.

Remember the older guy he had lunch with in MIA, in May? You should, if you didn't focus on Mordor's inept babble about shirts, ballerinas and the like. That guy was instrumental into arranging the deal with Southern Glazer's. Just the biggest wine and spirits distributor on the US market, mind you.

Don't believe me? Check this out:

That company was founded in Florida. Its HQ is still in MIA. He didn't go there because he was looking for ballerinas at his birthday dinner. He went there because when these people are available to meet you, well: you leave everything aside and you damn GO.

Now who the hell is writing fanfiction, eh? You really should be ashamed, madam.

I rest my case.

#BoozeWars

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chachadelight · 2 years

Text

Celle qui s'est enfuie

Part 1 | Part 2

Rating & Warnings: Swearing, smut, a tiny bit of violence

I’d also like to thank those who encouraged me to write this and! also thank you to @rymndsmth for some of the inspo I had for some of the saucyness that happens here. Their ‘kyoto’ series is top fuckin notch, please do give it a read!! This is a one shot technically, but if it’s well received I might write a second or third part, probably nothing longer than that but who knows! Enjoy!

Pairings: Tangerine x Assassin!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: All he has to do is follow the rules; but Tangerine’s never been big on rules. Where does that leave him?

“Yeah well, he’s a diesel innit?”

“Lemon what’d I say huh? If you talk about Thomas the Tank Engine again I’m gon- “

“You’re gonna’ shoot me in the face—I know”.

Yet there he went on again. It had only been about 30 minutes since they had gotten onto the train and Tangerine was already at his limit. If he hadn’t loved his dear brother as much as he did he most likely would’ve fulfilled his promise a long time ago.

Lemon sat back against his chair, huffing with annoyance as he adjusted the lapel of his jacket. “Right well, all we gotta’ do is get this fucker his lazy sod of a son and his hard drive and we can go home”, Lemon gestured to the opposing seats, a young tattooed boy blissfully passed out and pressed up against the window. “You’ve got the drive yeah?”

“Yeah thanks for the update Lemon I got it”. Tangerine rolled his eyes before checking the time on his watch; they had hours before they made it to their stop at Kyoto. Maybe this would be a great opportunity for them to actually relax for once considering that only a few hours ago they were about knee deep in blood just trying to get their hands on the White Death’s son.

It was a job they hesitated for that’s for sure, but after hearing about the pay out and just how keen their contractor was on getting them specifically for the job, they just couldn’t say no. They were professionals after all, they weren’t going to scrutinise that for nobody.

Tangerine’s gaze was suddenly stolen as one of the train crew members rolled by with a cart full of food. Without even thinking the male reached over at pinched a couple of bags from the cart.

“You don’t need to nick the biscuits”.

“Why do I do that? It’s like a compulsion or something”.

“You should see someone bout’ that”.

Tangerine cringed at himself, knowing full well his little klepto issue was something he needed to attend to but just never really got around to addressing.

The two men’s attention was stolen away when the chime indicating the train was coming to a stop sounded off, but only briefly once they noticed only a

couple of average looking citizens made their way through the cart. All but one.

“Mate she’s right lush”. Tangerine’s upper lip twitched upward ever so slightly as his head gestured forwards, causing Lemon to turn his head in an oh so not very inconspicuous way.

“Fuckin’ make it look any more obvious would ya, fucken git”.

There she was. The woman Tangerine was referring to. Hair ever so slightly covering her gaze, only adding to the sensual nature of her kohl lined eyes and red tinted lips. She walked with poise and a sense of elegance to her, she seemed unsuspecting but the way she carried herself said more about her that Tangerine just sensed deep down. What the sense was he had no idea but he really didn’t care at this point. She wore a black pleated skirt and socks that stopped just at her thighs, god, her thighs. The edge of the fabric hugging her flesh oh so perfectly it almost made Tangerine huff...almost.

His eyes flicked back up to catch the silver chain around her neck sat stark against the fabric of her black turtleneck. The man had obviously stared a little too long because she had caught his gaze by the time, she found her place into a seat that had her in perfect sight of him. The woman’s lip quirked into a shy smile, a blush forming on her cheek as she quickly looked away once realising his stare was for her only.

“Who’s the one makin it obvious now mate?”

Tangerine however didn’t look away, why would he? He wasn’t some shy schoolboy. He held her gaze for as long as she was staring back, knowing her bashfulness was his doing only fed his already massive ego. With a tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, Tangerine only chuckled with pride once he saw the effect he had on her, of course, too easy.

Lemon shook his head quickly in succession, twisting his face in disagreement. “Nah nah nah, none of that”.

“None of what?”

“None of—” Lemon tilted his head quickly to the side, motioning to the woman. “That”.

Tangerine scoffed and reached up to slick back his hair in a show of confidence and ease. “Dunno what you’re on about mate”.

“The last thing we need is you goin’ off and shagging some girl in the middle of a job”.

Immediately Tangerine showed offense to his brother’s accusation and started adjusting the collar of his suit with a shake of his head. “Don’t be stupid”. He shook his head again in dismissal but still managed to sneak another look at the woman, quickly getting the chance to catch a glimpse of the way her thighs pressed together as she sat cross-legged. Fuck she looked good just sitting there. Lemon and Tangerine’s line of work wasn’t exactly the most social occupation in the world, there wasn’t really time for making friends let alone a sexual partner. So, to say that Tangerine was a little ‘deprived’ might have been a slight understatement.

“Whatever Tangerine...I’m gonna’ go secure the train. Make sure everything’s in check”.

“Yeah right”.

A sudden slam to the table had Tangerine’s attention onto his brother in an instant, his eyes wide as if to say, ‘what the fuck Lemon’?

“I fuckin mean it, no funny business”.

‘Yeah yeah alright, fuckin ell’ you’re like my mother or somethin”.

And with that, his brother disappeared into the next train cart and Tangerine was left alone. Just him, the White Death’s sleeping son and his raging hormones.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her and she was well aware of it herself. There was no such thing as sneaky stolen glances anymore. Tangerine had no shame at this point with the way he tapped his fingers lightly against the table, his gaze fixated on her form, tracing a line up from her legs to her face he noticed her looking back.

Although this time she didn’t look away shyly, if anything she was now smiling back. Her red lips pulled back unto a smirk as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. With a wave the woman wiggled her fingers in Tangerine’s direction in a form of a flirtatious wave, a completely opposing energy to what she showed only moment before when she first boarded the train.

Tangerine lifted a brow as a chuckle escaped his lips, curiosity was definitely getting the better of him. He peered behind his shoulder, wondering if Lemon was going to turn the corner any moment. He did say he would behave himself.

Well who the fuck cares about what Lemon tells him what to do? He was never big on following the rules anyway.

Just like that Tangerine found himself walking towards her, a hand smoothing down his hair and fingers making quick work at is sleeves to roll them up to his elbows. Soon enough he slipped into the chair opposite to the woman, leaned back with a coolness Tangerine had long ago perfected with ease.

“Now what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ here eh?”

“Just visiting a friend in Kyoto”. Her voice rang like bells in his ears and the smile on her lips was only making her that much more tantalising.

“Got a long way to go just to visit a friend no?”

She grinned “Maybe. I guess I’m just devoted like that”.

Tangerine reached up and smoothed a finger over his moustache as he gave her another once over she didn’t fail to notice. “I guess we’re both gonna be here for a while then?”

“I guess so”.

It was almost nard to keep her focus. Almost.

Those blue eyes paired with that accent had no doubt gotten this man anything and everything he’d ever wanted. And now here he was facing her, leaned back in his seat with the scent of his ego practically oozing off of him. The way he looked at her was predatory, his gaze eating her up with every chance he could get. She was amused to say the least, and the grin on her lips was impossible to get rid of. Her job was relatively simple, get the drive from the twins and get off the train before they ever noticed. But what her handler failed to mention was just how delicious a certain curly haired killer

“I guess we’re both gonna be here for a while then?”

“I guess so”. With that she leaned forward against crossed arms, her breasts provocatively pressed up against each other. Tangerine’s eyebrow twitched upward with interest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip as he simply followed her movements by leaning in towards the table, closing the gap between the pair.

“What am I going to do with you luv?” She couldn’t help herself when her teeth grazed her bottom lip, why was he so hard to ignore? He was so close to her now and she could smell his cologne so vividly. He smelled of vanilla, cigars and smoke, no doubt fresh from a fight and it was a sent that could make her legs shake from excitement. She wasn’t supposed to get too involved but now he asked her that question and she didn’t really feel like behaving.

She had a little time to spare and she just couldn’t find herself not taking this delicious opportunity.

Their gazes were locked and for moment she let her eyes dip down to peer at his lips, head tilting ever so slightly as the next sentence slipped from her mouth with a little too much finesse. “Anything you want”.

It was clear they were on the same page. Yet what made everything in her favour was that he had no idea that she was after exactly what he had. He hadn’t even asked for her name; it couldn’t have been any better.

Tangerine let out a huff from his nose as he promptly stood from the chair, picking at an invisible piece of lint from his shirt before making his way past her. However not before slyly grazing his fingers over the edge of her jawline, letting his fingers glide through her hair for a moment before he continued his b-line to the train bathroom.

She smiled to herself, a breath seizing in her throat for just a moment as she felt the warmth of his fingers against her skin.

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

She soon found herself slipping into the too small train bathroom, her palms pressed against the door for just a moment longer before she turned around to find the man leaning himself against the too small sink. The air inside suddenly turned thin, and the beating of her heart thrummed wildly against her chest. Why she did not know, she was not one to get nervous in a situation like this but this man...this man was unlike any other she had come across. He made the others seem insignificant and judging by the way she almost shook just from his burning gaze; she could tell this was going to be different.

“You know...” She cooed softly as she took a step forward, noting the way his forearms flexed as his grip on the edge of the sink tightened. “I don’t even know your name”. Reaching forward she looped a single finger over the gold chain decorating the empty space on the man’s neck, a single tug forward causing him to snicker.

She was playing a dangerous game and as soon as she took her grip on that necklace and it tightened around his neck something inside him snapped to attention. “Just call me Tangerine luv”.

“Like the fruit?” She quirked an eyebrow “and his hands found her hips. “Yeah, like the fruit”.

“How – “She looped in a second finger and tugged once more causing Tangerine to grunt at the sudden squeeze he now felt around his neck. “– Cute”.

Tangerine let out a puff of air that sounded like amusement, their lips so close to one another she could feel his warm breath fan across her face. “Watch it luv”.

“Or what?” She liked this game. But so did he.

Lips against lips in a matter of seconds. The kiss was hungry, desperate, it was angry. She had clearly pressed the right buttons because the grip he help on her hips was bruising. Fingers digging deep into her skin as they both fought for the dominance of the kiss. He tasted just as he smelled, smoke and vanilla permeated her lips and mouth, and she couldn’t help herself as she whined into the kiss.

He pulled he in closer, hips pressed flush together that had her melting into his touch to the point that she let go of her grip on his, completely forgetting that she was trying to win dominance only moments before.

His fingers soon found home in her hair, digits twisting into her locks before tugging roughly to pull her head backwards, exposing her neck to him. “Not so cheeky now hey luv?” His voice had deepened, laced with arrogance as he dipped down to attach his lips to her neck and leave a trail of hungry bruises he knew she would have to look at for days to come.

If she could see herself she knew she would be mad; mad that she had let this man cause her to become so undone in a matter of minutes. This wasn’t what she had in mind but it had been so long since someone had made her feel this alive.

“Don’t—” He cut her off quickly when his mouth found hers once more, tongue slipping past her lips without a moment wasted. “Get—cocky”. She managed to let out a few breathless words between the sloppy kisses, her breath heaving in her chest to keep up with his hunger.

Tangerine chuckled against her lips before he hauled her upwards with a little too much ease, her arms found solace around his neck whilst her legs wrapped securely around his waist. He carried her over towards the closed toilet seat before settling down, allowing her to find herself seated comfortably in his lap. This gave her a chance to catch her breath from the bruising kiss, hazed over eyes peering down at an equally dishevelled Tangerine.

He was beautiful like this, in the dim lighting of the train bathroom, perfectly gelled hair now a mess on top of his head. Blue eyes turned a storm cloud grey and hooded with desire. It was almost a shame that she was going to have to steal from him and run away, never to been again.

That’s when she saw it. Peering down his vest pocket she saw the glint of the hard drive poking its head out, her heart skipping a beat. It was right there, un his pocket. And she had him seduced and sexed up in the bullet train bathroom.

This was too good.

His hands slowly slid their way up the exposed part of her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her skirt before stopping dangerously close to exactly where she wanted him. The cold of the varying rings decorating his fingers sent a shiver through her.

With her new position she didn’t miss the way his hardened length pressed against her clothed core, a coy smile on her lips growing as she took the opportunity to grind her hips downwards. Immediately eliciting a groan from Tangerine that wanted to make her go wild

“You gonna’ ride me sweetheart?” He cooed.

She leaned in towards him, her fingers snaking their way into the back of his hair before tugging softly. Doing what he had done to hair by yanking his head back to give her more access to his neck. “Anything you want handsome”.

Tangerine’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her lips against the shell of his ear, the tightness of his hair being pulled sending him into a craze that his grip on his hips and thighs tightening even more. He pulled her down against himself, the sound of her soft mewl letting him smirk with pride.

She couldn’t help it, the feeling of having him press against her was driving her crazy. She had found herself at a rhythm, hips swirling back and forth. Her movements at his command as his hands guided her every move. It didn’t take her long to get panting, her head falling back to indulge in the feeling of his hardness rutting against her. His soft grunts filled the small space and run in her ears.

The heat that was overtaking her body was indescribable and at some point his hands had found home against the slope of her arse, kneading the flesh generously. She needed to feel him, just him.

And it seemed like he had the same idea because Tangerine was rushing for his pants—she reached down with him when she was able to become coherent enough to pay attention. They both knew this was going to be anything but sweet and slow, this was going to be quick and hard but neither of them was complaining.

“You’re gonna take me like a good girl...” Tangerine gripped the base of his length, pulling her panties to side to teasingly circle the head against her folds. “Aren’t you sweetheart?”

She whimpered softly, her breath catching in her throat as his length prodded at her entrance, threatening to enter her at any moment. He was too good, and the way those pet names rolled off his tongue in that accent was doing things to her she had just never expected. But she was losing patience, and the more he had her coming undone the more frustrated she became with herself.

“Fuck me good and find out”.

He growled and with one sudden upwards thrust and guttural groan he sheathed himself inside her. She cried out at the sudden intrusion, almost regretting her show of defiance before the painful sting was replaced by the sweet sting of pleasure. Tangerine reached up, his palm pressing against her mouth to muffle her scream as he let out an amused chuckle.

“Careful luv, wouldn’t want anyone to know we’re doing in here”.

She knew he was right but the way ne filled her just right had her eyes rolling to the back of her head and all her inhibitions disappeared.

“That’s it...” He cooed again, one hand squeezing against her hip and the other snaking its way up her chest. It didn’t take long to build up a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping up against her almost painfully. The pace had her biting down on her own lip, hard enough to the point she drew a small amount of blood, the taste of iron coating her tongue as she propped her hands behind her on his knees or support.

Tangerine watched her with a lust in his gaze, hard muffled grunts leaving is lips with every thrust of his hips. He kept his hold on one side of her hips whilst the other had found its way around her throat, fingers squeezing a firm pressure onto her neck that was already littered with his bruises.

Now with the added loss of oxygen, she was being sent into complete bliss. Pleasure was already overtaking every inch of her body and she could feel that familiar twinge in the centre of her core, that feeling of unwinding threatening to break at any moment.

He never let up his pace, sweat beading at the crown of his head as he focused himself on her, on her body and the way she started to tighten around him. She was close and her warmth only egged him on, encouraging him to only wreck her even more.

“Let go for me sweetheart”. He managed to grunt out his words, focusing on getting her to the end.

She whined softly, trying her best on not screaming out as the searing hot burn of her climax finally imploded inside her. Her body seized from the pure pleasure. Tangerine’s hips stuttered with her release, the constant feeling of her core flexing around him sending him over the edge shortly after her. He filled her with his warmth, the feeling sending a shiver through her already sensitive body.

“Fuckin’ ell”. Falling forwards into Tangerine’s surprisingly caring embrace his arms wrapped around her to help her ride out her orgasm, “Good girl”. Tangerine stroked the back of her head, heavy breath blowing past her ear with the words of praise.

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

Surprisingly he helped her clean herself up, where she had expected him to leave as soon as they were done. But now, here she was, watching him primp himself in the mirror, smoothing those beautiful curls back down to a somewhat more presentable way.

She hadn’t forgotten about the drive in his breast pocket however.

He had his back turned to her as she silently stayed leaning against the door of the bathroom, her head tilted in observation as she waited for the exact moment to make her move. He was gorgeous, he really was, and shit he made her feel good. Him standing there now, examining every little detail of himself in the mirror, ensuring he was presentable or perhaps just liked looking at himself a little too much. But he was charming, too charming for his own good. Damn...she was starting to like him.

“You know...it’s a real shame”. “What’s that luv?” “Sorry about this”.

“Sorry about wha—" Without letting him finish his sentence she had already gripped the side of his head, using maximum force without being lethal to send the man’s head directly into the side of the porcelain sink. With a deafening crack and a loud groan of pain, Tangerine was on the floor, a sizeable cut on that beautiful forehead of his.

She sighed dramatically before squatting down beside a groaning Tangerine, clearly disorientated from the hit to the head. “No hard feelings?” She cooed, a grin on her lips as she slipped the hard drive from his pocket and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

“Oi...you—f...fucken ch...cheeky”.

“Shhh, you’ve hit your head. Rest a while”. And with that she disappeared through the bathroom door.

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

“You’ve got to be fucken’ kidding me”. Lemon stood before Tangerine, hands on his hips as his twin held a bag of frozen whatever against the forming lump on his forehead. “What’d I fucken say?”

“Shut up mate”. “Thomas would nev-“ “Don’t even fucken go there”.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #bullet train #tangerine fanfic #tangerine x y/n #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train fanfic

1K notes · View notes

mingtinys · 11 months

Text

Silent Cry

pairing : jung wooyoung x gn!reader

angst , hurt / comfort , a lil fluff if u squint

warnings : language , themes of depression and isolation , nudity (not explicit or detailed) , just heavy content in general

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : this one has been sitting in the drafts for quite some time as i just never felt good enough about posting it as it's a little different from what i usually write about . but i did promise a wooyoung fic , so here it is !! (and yes , this fic was slightly inspired by the skz song)

It's not often you find yourself angry beyond reason, in fact, you'd like to think yourself a rather patient individual. But at the end of the day, a rather shitty one at that, there's only so much you can excuse or find reason with. Only so much silence and disrespect you can take before something inside you snaps and pushes down the logical side of your brain that's desperately trying to convince you "there's gotta be a good reason, Wooyoung would never purposely ignore you." Bullshit.

If he didn't want to go out tonight? Fine. That's not your issue. But standing you up without, at the very least, a courtesy call? You've wracked your brain all day, and there's just not much you can think of to justify the utter embarrassment and betrayal he put you through tonight. So you let your rage carry you the entire thirty-minute walk from your usual restaurant to the dorms and wait to be let in.

Not that there was much to begin with, your expectations having been severely degraded for the night, but the last twinge of hope you'd allowed to fester dies when your aggressive knocks on the KQ dorms summon San in leu of Wooyoung. He looks startled, but moreover just exhausted. "Y/N," He breathes out a greeting, quickly waving you inside. You don't quite pick up on it at first, but he sounds almost relieved to see you.

"Is he here?" You ask immediately, stepping into the empty area of the living room, between the TV stand and L–shaped couch. Yunho and Yeosang are there too, they peer at you through solemn eyes and let out their own sighs, matching San.

Yeosang rubs at his face, pulling the skin as he drags his palms down until they slip from his jaw and land in his lap. "Wooyoung? He's in his room."

You scoff, "That asshole–"

It's Yunho who moves first, standing and catching your arm before you can storm off to confront the object of your frustration. "Woah, wait, what's going on?" It takes everything in you not to yank your arm from his gasp. You're mad at Wooyoung, not Yunho, you remind yourself.

"He's been ignoring me for the past three days and now he's missed our date night." You explain with a huff. Yunho drops your arm and looks between San and Yesoang. Their glances are far too knowing and not enough explaining, it irks you even further.

"What? Am I missing something here?"

Your impatience prompts another glance between the three boys before San finally elects himself to speak. "He won't really talk to us either," San frowns. "He's been acting kind of . . . weird."

"We got snapped at when we tried to offer grabbing dinner together earlier." Though Yeosang sounds just about as annoyed as you, there's something more behind his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. Worry? Helplessness? Guilt, perhaps? You try not to read too much into it.

"Well, he doesn't get to be an asshole about it."

"I agree," The group nods at your statement. "But listen, don't be too hard on him, alright? I don't think he's feeling too great." Yunho chooses his words with surgical-like precision. The phrase "I don't think he's feeling too great" sticks in your mind and leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue.

"Noted." With that, you turn on your heels and start down the hall to Wooyoung's room, no one intervenes or follows this time.

You rasp three times on the wooden door with your knuckles, and thrice more when your first attempt yields no response. It's just silence, and after an internal debate between impatience and hesitancy, you reach for the knob and twist.

The door only opens but a few inches when a loud huff resonates through the pitch-black room. "I told you guys to leave me alone," Wooyoung croaks, his voice raspy and raw.

You ignore his request and allow yourself in anyways, shutting the door behind you and enveloping the room in near darkness. The poor lighting situation unfortunately doesn't do much in terms of masking the clutter you're faced with upon second glance. Various piles of clothes are haphazardly strewn about, making the room feel more like a maze than a habitable environment. Open and unfinished food containers cast a rather unpleasant aroma that clings to your olfactory senses and causes your nose to scrunch up involuntarily.

Wooyoung himself lays in bed, wrapped in a thick cocoon of blankets with his back turned to the door. A faint glow highlights the portions of his face visible to you and you can just barely pick up on a popular TikTok audio playing on a loop over the hum of the A/C unit.

You stop a few feet from him. "Oh, so your phone is working. Good to know."

Wooyoung's head whips around with lightning speed, eyes blown wide with surprise. "Y/N? Why are you here?"

You roll your eyes at his incredulous expression. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"

He thinks for a moment, hazy eyes scanning the room, and then you. He blinks once, twice, a third time. "Thursday?"

"It's Saturday, Wooyoung."

"Oh."

He visibly deflates, sinking further into the safety of his blanket and flipping back to his side, leaving you to spill your grievances to the back of his head. "Is that all you have to say? I waited alone for you to show up for nearly two hours, and all you have to say is 'oh.'?"

"I'm sorry." He doesn't sound it. "I'm not really sure what else you want me to say."

Your fists ball up at your sides with how apathetic he is. It's just so unlike him, giving you the cold shoulder as opposed to greeting you with eager kisses and excited giggles. A knot ties itself tightly in your gut and twists uncomfortably. You uncurl your fingers and wriggle them, trying to release the built-up tension. Forcing a calmness into your voice that honestly, you aren't sure how you manage, you speak.

"Woo, why are you being like this?" You cross your arms over your chest, preparing to protect yourself from another very likely short response from your boyfriend. "You could have at least told me you weren't coming, or texted to let me know you were okay. . ."

He huffs again. "Fine. I'm sorry I flaked. I'm an asshole, I get it. Now please leave, I'm not in the mood."

It should make you even angrier. His complete disregard for how he's talking to you, the careless attitude he uses to cover up whatever he's actually feeling. But you've known Wooyoung for too long, and something must be seriously wrong for him to behave how he is. The knot in your stomach coils even tighter and stretches into your chest, constricting your airways. You're starting to understand why Yeosang looked so worried.

You manage to suck down a deep breath that allows your prior frustration to dissipate just enough so you can keep a cool head, even if he can't. You choose your next words carefully, dropping your voice down to a patient whisper.

"I don't wanna leave without knowing you're okay, but if you say you are . . . then I'll believe you, I won't pry any further."

The room descends into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the increasingly rapid and jagged breathing of the boy in front of you. Something halfway between a choked sob and hiccup bubbles up from the confines of his throat. The uncharacteristic sound is worse than anything you've heard pass through his lips before. It nearly splits your heart right down the middle.

"Baby," you coax. "Tell me what you need and I'll do what I can." You take a seat on the edge of his bed, and rest your palm where his shoulder is just beneath the blanket, lightly squeezing to try and initiate some form of comfort.

Wooyoung crumbles all too quickly for what your heart can handle. He shrinks even further as he curls into a loose ball. One hand shoots out from under his fortress to grip yours that rests on his shoulder. He cradles your hand against his chest, holding on the way a frightened child would. Cry after cry tumbles from his lips in a wretched sound, something akin to that of shattering glass on cold tile.

"I don't know," he gasps out. "I don't fucking know!"

"Okay, okay," you coo, using your free hand to repeatedly comb through strands of his messy, unwashed hair. "It's okay." You aren't sure what to say, and you're terrified you'll say the wrong thing, so you opt for nothing at all. You simply let Wooyoung cry, trusting that eventually, he'll let you know what he needs, even if it's just the rest of the night alone.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit in silence or when Wooyoung's sobs finally begin to taper out to sniffles. Though what he says next sends your heart plummeting to your stomach and snags the air from your lungs.

"I just wanna be good enough." He confesses.

Your fingers freeze in his hair as you try to process some type of response, but the best you can get out is "What do you mean?"

"I just. . . I just feel— like shit. Like a shit friend, a shit boyfriend, a shit idol, a shit person. I feel disgusting."

Realistically, you know there's nothing in the world you can say in this moment to relieve the anguish he feels. You can let praise after praise for him fall from your lips, but they'd never reach his ears. Not when he's already convinced himself he isn't worthy of them. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to at least try. Even if it only relieves a fraction of what he feels. And you think maybe if you can't heal his mind, you can at least make sure he's physically okay.

You give his hand that's still clutching yours to his chest a squeeze. "Why don't we make something to eat, hm? You must be hungry?" But he shakes his head.

"Some tea then? Water?" He shakes his head again.

"Baby, you gotta do something to take care of yourself."

Wooyoung lets out a shaky sigh, "I don't want them to see me, not like this." You piece together he must be talking about his members. Which means no venturing out to the kitchen for food or drinks.

"Okay, maybe a bath then?"

He thinks for a moment, but surprises you when he, albeit reluctantly, agrees. Maybe he's caught on that you won't be giving up until he does at least something. Maybe he's just trying to appease you so you'll stop pestering him. Or maybe he just genuinely wants to. Whatever the reason, you're happy for it.

You slip your hand from his grasp and whisper that you'll get the water started and for him to take all the time he needs. When the tub fills and bubbles form from the bath solution you poured in, you come back to find him unraveled from his nest of blankets and sitting on the edge of his bed. You smooth his hair back and he looks up at you with sad eyes.

"It's ready whenever you are. I'll give you some time to get undressed and settle in, okay?"

The way he nods is robotic and the glassy and distant reflection in his eyes drives daggers through your heart. You wonder if he even heard you, but then he meekly rises to his feet, rubbing at stiff joints on the way up. He disappears to the bathroom moments before two knocks resonate from the wooden door.

You open it by just a crack, fully preparing to shoo off whoever it is as per Wooyoung's wishes. But when you're met face to face with a disheveled red-eyed Yeosang, you don't have the heart to tell him to go away. So you take a quick peek to make sure Wooyoung is shut away in the bathroom before opening his door the rest of the way.

Yeosang peaks around the dim room. "Is Wooyoung okay?" He whispers.

You offer up as good of a smile as you can despite the circumstances. You're not sure you've ever seen Yeosang so concerned. "He will be," you assure. The blond boy in front of you nods and mumbles out his own affirmations of Wooyoung's well-being.

"Uh, I know he probably doesn't want the extra attention right now, but could you give him this for me?" Yeosang extends a water bottle and two bags of snacks for you to take. "Oh– and San asked me to give this as well." He untucks what looks like a stuffed dog from under his arm and hands it to you as well with the utmost care. "Shiber is his favorite, but San said he thinks Wooyoung needs him more tonight."

"I'll let him know," you speak softly and Yeosang nods, but doesn't leave. He just stands there, nervously looking around and shifting from side to side. "Are you okay?" You ask.

"He scares me when he's like this."

"It's happened before?"

Yeosang nods. "Not a lot, but sometimes he just gets too caught up in his own head and shuts everyone out. I know he'll be fine, he always is . . . But he's my best friend, you know? It hurts."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. It's hard, watching someone you love struggle and not knowing how to help them. "Yeah, I know. If it's any solace, he did get out of bed." You check over your shoulder to make sure Wooyoung hasn't reappeared. "Hopefully washing up makes him feel a little better."

The information causes a sad smile to lift the corners of Yeosang's lips. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"I'll try to keep you updated or let you know if he needs anything."

Yeosang nods, "Please do."

The two of you say your goodbyes and you shut the door back as softly as possible before setting the items Yeosang brought on his bed and returning to the door of the bathroom. You knock a few times, making sure it's okay that you enter, to which you only receive a half-hearted hum as permission. You peer in and see the tub still remains untouched. Frowning, you step fully inside to find Wooyoung stood in front of his sink mirror, seemingly lost in thought as he stares at his reflection.

His t-shirt lays discarded on the counter, leaving him shivering in just his red plaid boxers. His eyes are sad as they roam over his own figure, lips pursed in a thin line, expression one of disappointment. He takes in a deep breath, chest puffing out as it fills with air and deflates seconds later. Trembling, he wraps his arms around his torso and drops his gaze to the porcelain sink.

You take it upon yourself to slip into the space between him and the mirror, effectively blocking his ability to look even if he wanted to. You tilt your head enough to gaze at him from below, finding his eyelids squeezed shut and his jaw tensed.

Wooyoung's breath hitches when you place a gentle palm on his cheek, but he relaxes into the warmth of it twice as fast. You lift his head, thumb working to rub half circles into the damp skin.

You press a feathery kiss to the space between his eyes, and the action causes them to flutter open. "Hi, my beautiful boy." His bottom lip quivers the tiniest amount.

"C'mon, it'll get cold if we wait too long, yeah?"

He nods and tries to take one last look in the mirror, but you keep his face from turning enough to do so and he doesn't even try to fight you on it. Your hand slips from his cheek and reaches out for his, taking it and leading him over to the steaming tub.

"I'll grab some towels for when you're done." You offer, though it's more of an excuse to give him some privacy while he finishes undressing and slips in. You can only imagine how vulnerable he feels right now and it only feels right to extend that courtesy.

When you return he's fully submerged, covered by the opaque and foamy water. "I set out some shampoo and stuff earlier, but if you need anything else just call out, okay?" You say, crouching beside the tub and using the edge of it to rest your hands for balance. "Would it be okay if I cleaned up your room a bit?"

Wooyoung thinks for a moment, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I won't if you don't want me to." You give him an out.

"Actually, um . . . Could you maybe just sit with me for a little? Please." His eyes flit back and forth between you and the still water.

"Of course," you whisper, using the tub's edge to push yourself to stand. You swiftly discard your own clothes and fold them up on the counter along with Wooyoung's. "Scoot up a bit," you instruct, and he does. Carefully, as to not splash any water, you step in and lower yourself into the warm liquid. Your back rests against the wall of the tub with Wooyoung positioned between your legs.

Taking a quarter-sized amount of shampoo in your palm, you begin lathering it into his hair and massaging his scalp. He stays silent while you work away, doing as you ask almost absent-mindedly when you guide him this way and that to rinse the products from his hair.

"Okay, lean back," you instruct one last time, guiding his head down to dip his hair in the water and cleanse it of conditioner.

"Thank you," he mumbles, turning his head a little bit to look at you. "You didn't have to do all that."

Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his abdomen and rest your chin on his shoulder. "I didn't, but I wanted to."

"And I'm sorry for ignoring you, I'm so sor—"

"It's okay, I know." You mumble, lifting your head from its resting position just enough to press a kiss behind his ear. He relaxes slightly, and you continue. Peppering butterfly kisses down the side of his neck and to his shoulder.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the only noise a soft buzzing emitting from the fluorescent lights above. The warm water mixed with Wooyoung's even breaths work like a lullaby and you finally allow yourself a moment to relax. Your eyelids feel heavy, the stress of today's events finally catching up with your body. You rest against Wooyoung and continue to hold him, cheek smushed against his shoulder blade.

"It's okay if you want to go, I know you're probably tired." He suddenly speaks.

You hum against his skin, "I'm not leaving, not unless you ask me to."

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to, I can handle shit like this myself."

"That's the problem, Wooyoung." You sigh, not out of frustration or anything of the sort, but because your heart hurts for him and you're running out of ways to let him know you truly do want to help. "You're not a burden. Not to me, or Yeosang, or San, or Yunho— anyone. Why didn't you just tell us? You know we're there for you no matter what."

"I didn't know how," His voice breaks. "I don't like being like this. I hate who I am right now but I can't stop it!"

Wooyoung's shoulders tremble, and you can sense another pent-up wave of emotions ready to crest. "I just want to feel okay again," he sobs and you instinctively shift back, pulling him with you to recline. He sinks into the water a bit, head under your chin and resting against your chest. You reposition your arms for him to get comfortable, wrapping them around his midsection.

The final thread he'd been hanging on to finally snaps and Wooyoung completely shatters in your arms right then and there. His wails fill the room with perhaps the most heartbreaking sounds you've had the misfortune to hear. You hold him for what feels like hours, your own silent tears streaming steadily down your cheeks.

There's absolutely nothing you can say in that moment and you hate it. You hate feeling helpless, you hate that Wooyoung ever has to feel this way, and you hate the world for being so harsh to him. It isn't fair.

You can sit there and tell him everything that will be okay and kiss him better all you want, but at the end of the day, those are just empty dreams. It's ambitious to believe you alone could piece him back together in this moment. So you do the best you can, and just hold the broken pieces of him together so that none get lost. Even if they slice your skin and leave your hands bleeding, you'll make sure to handle them with the utmost care.

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung imagine #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung imagines #jung wooyoung x you #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez x you

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kcrabb88 · 2 months

Text

Not to vent on main, but I do want to talk about this because I think it speaks to a bigger issue in fandom recently. So, there's been a small but noticeable trend recently of people coming onto Quinlan/Obi-Wan content that I make and either saying "I liked this except for the QuinObi and/or Quinlan himself" or commenting on something as to why it was QuinObi and not another more popular ship. This happened recently in a comment I got on a fic and also on a piece of QuinObi art that I paid for, among other things. First, that's a shitty thing to do. You don't come into comments and complain that it's not what you like. Second, I gotta say, I have not experienced having people who like super popular ships coming to me, whose ship is a rowboat, and complaining that my content, or content I paid to have created, isn't their ship in any fandom I've ever been in. You're right! It's my ship. I love them and will continue to write about them. If a few people have written QuinObi because of me (and they have! Which is so nice!) I'm still not rocking the fandom boat. I am not making a dent in the behemoth ships that are out there. I ran a QuinObi week which was so wonderful and I will do it again, but it's not going to suddenly steal writers away from other popular ships (also, multi-shipping exists!) I'm not a threat. Not that we should think of things that way, but it does start to come across like that when stuff like this happens, like I'm getting in the way of an agenda.

I've been in fandoms where I shipped a big ship and got complained to by someone shipping idk, I hesitate to call it a rival ship, but that's the only word I can think of. Still not nice, but coming to me about my SMALL SHIP is much more unexpected and much more unkind as far as fandom power dynamics go.

People have gotten truly aggressive about both fanon and popular ships. No one, whatever the fandom, is obligated to ship the popular ship you like. Not everyone is going to fit the mold of popular fandom trends, and they don't have to. They should be able to create what they like without being bothered about it. People seem to believe now that if you ship a pairing that you also hold an Approved slate of beliefs about every other character in fandom. That you follow what I've been calling a Fandom Map. Well, some people like to mix it up. Fandom isn't a hive mind and diversity of characters and pairings should be encouraged. I think it's ironic that I have to be extremely nervous to make a post critiquing a popular fandom trope but people can come to me and be rude about my way less popular shipping preferences. I’m not a fandom vending machine. If you don’t like one thing but enjoyed others tell me what you did like and leave the rest out. Or don’t read it. Crits like this aren’t even dislikes about story elements (and even those are more for Goodreads than Ao3) they’re crits about my personal taste.

(As to Star Wars fandom in particular, I continue to think it's really off that people are so weird about Quinlan generally, and dumb him down, among other crimes. You have to start to wonder why and when you wonder, the results of that wondering aren't great).

tl ; dr don't be a jerk. We're all here because we enjoy something.

#KCrabb rambles #Star Wars tag #Quinlan Vos #QuinObi

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fictionkinfessions · 3 days

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Reply to @ 748650924689555456/real-talk-but-i-hope-i-dont-ever-cross-the-line

First of all, it was nearly impossible for me to read this essay. You’ve gotta start breaking up more of your ridiculously long paragraphs.

Anyway, this is such an elitist take, which why in the WORLD are we making kinning elitist in the first place? Congratulations on not having that problem or not kinning from every media you consume, do you want like… a medal for that? Some praise? I mean seriously, want do you get from shitting on people who DO kin from everything they consume? Gods forbid they watch, read, play something and see themself in it. I’m not saying it doesn’t become a problem at times, because it definitely can from what I’ve seen, but for serious, what do you think your borderline villain monologue is going to do in this situation beyond making people feel like shit? What’s the point of popping in here, writing all of this ON ANON, and acting like it’s so cool of you?

The people you’re ranting about probably already know it’s a problem and are trying to work on that, or, if they aren’t, have made some peace with it because gods forbid someone finds something that briefly helps them when the world is quite literally falling apart around us. Having a little escapism or a little something to focus on beyond the world being shit is good for people, believe it or not. Makes people happy to find themself in media they consume, little pieces of themself that make them feel better to learn about. Fuck, some people are uncomfortable with exploring parts of themselves without the barrier of kin for trauma reasons, isn’t it a good thing they find multiple parts of themself all over the place?

Anyway. It’s so cool that you kin in the specific way that you do, but the majority of people don’t. Fuck, tons of people don’t even kin spirituality. Regardless of that, who cares if they have an “identity crisis” or split? That doesn’t concern you and frankly, acting like it does and you’re going to make a documentary on the people who probably have life rough enough already is so shitty. This entire ask is so shitty lmfao!!!!

There are tons of problems in fandom spaces that are encouraged by people who kin, I won’t lie, but kinning a ton or pairing two white guys who have “no chemistry” or whatever else you said is REALLY not the issues to focus on. Let’s talk about white people who use names from closed cultures. Or how fandom spaces promote misogyny? How about we focus on something that has real, genuine meaning and doesn’t make people feel terrible for no reason beyond YOU don’t like something?

All your “exposure” is going to do is get people who use kinning as a method of escapism from already horrible lives targeted and harassed more and more by nonkin. I just don’t see the point in this ask beyond “I’m better than you and everyone will see how weird and hollow you guys are 🫶🏻🫶🏻” like idk anon??? Touch grass or something lmfao

Sorry if this is mean mpc, I’m trying not to be, but still get the point across.

#fictionkinfessions #fakeclaim #bullying cw #mod party cat #ask response

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arashrita · 3 months

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hiii

Can I request the dorm leaders with a reader who rejects them? They have not declared themselves but the reader notices their attitudes and I confront them by telling them that she is not interested in teenage romance and that she just wants to return to their world (or if the reader cannot return to her world, live a quiet life outside of the island in some nice foreign country)

Thank you and I'm glad you write again.

A/N: I can't handle sad endings. So, here it is, a bitter-sweet fic that probably won't end in hopelessness. Anyways, I hope you are doing well. Enjoy! 💜💜💜💜

Apart but still together! (Housewardens x F! Reader.)

Riddle: At first, you thought you were just imagining stuff. Riddle Rosehearts has feelings for you? Can't be true, right? You never believed in rumors. But, even you could see the changes in him. Those longing looks, dreamy smiles and the soft blush cannot be just your imagination. He always invites you to the unbirthday parties of Heartslabyul, offers to tutor you all the time, asks you out to take a stroll with him around the rose maze... No, all of them can't be just friendly gestures. Not to mention Riddle isn't too good at hiding his feelings. But, the thing was you just... weren't in the position to be in a relationship with someone. All you wanted was to return home.

"I'm sorry Riddle. But, let's stop there. I'm sorry."

Leona: He hides his feelings well behind his snarky remarks. Yet, the way he is protective of you, the way his eyes softens when he gazes at you and when his tail sways around you in happiness... well, yeah that was a deadass giveaway. He was too soft with you, that isn't very Leona-like. He would even buy you stuff at times. You didn't have the heart to tell him off when he actually looked happy for once. But...

"Leona... we can't do this. Don't do this to yourself. I'm sorry..."

Azul: He is fidgeting around you? Trying to talk to you again and again? Giving you free food he cooked himself? Well, damn even a dense person would find out by then. This guy tries so hard to act cool around you but, always ends up blushing and stuttering. He had to work real hard to get out of his aloof self and be his real self around you. You were his friend. But, oh boy he definitely wanted to be more than friends with you. Why is this happening? After all this...

"Azul, stop. You know you are expecting the unexpected. Please... I'm really sorry..."

Kalim: He is trying to stick around you 24/7. Always inviting you to parties, asking Jamil to make special recipes just for you, spoiling you with extravagant gifts. That IS Kalim, but not to that extent. Then again, he doesn't bother to hide those lovesick looks. He is very open about it. He is always fo caring, so gentle, so loving. How can you not fall for a guy like that? But, unfortunately...

"Kalim, sweetie, please... You know this is not possible, right? You know one day I will just... return to where I belong, right? I'm really sorry Kalim. But, let's stop this..."

Vil: The way he acts around you is so different. Yes, he still calls you a potato and scolds you here and there but he has gone awfully soft around you. He is always looking out for you. Let it be a healthy diet or skin care products. He invites you in his room for spa days, let's you see his vulnerable side at times. Why? The answer was crystal clear. You really didn't want to break his heart but...

"Vil, this is going too far. I'm really sorry, but we gotta stop. It will never happen. I'm sorry..."

Idia: This guy already has more than enough issues. So, when he is making the effort to spend time with you and even go outside for it, you knew what was coming. You are his player two no matter what game it is and when Idia himself invites you to his room and shares some of his stories with you... you just...knew. But, you already made a decision the moment you ended up in this foreign world, far far away from your own. That's way...

"Idia, I think we should stop this now. This won't get us anywhere. I'm really sorry..."

Malleus: You were his first friend. You weren't afraid of him, never shit-talked about him, always made an effort to make him feel loved... How can he not fall for you? He already sees you as his future queen. You are everything to him. Before he even knew he was already drowning in love. It was so obvious. But, you two just weren't possible...

"Malleus, I hate to say this, but we have to stop here. I will just... fade away one day... then? Don't hurt yourself over me. I'm sorry..."

(BONUS HOPEFULL ENDING)

Years passed. Unfortunately, you never returned to your world. Then again, you made some really great friends, passed school eventually and grew up. Now, you even have a job. But one thing— no, one person was missing from your life. Looks like you were only lying to yourself when you rejected...HIM.

Riddle: It was a rainy day. Thanks to that you were struck midway. How could you forget your umbrella? That's when you saw him... Oh!

"(Y/N)?"

"Riddle...?"

You two walked closer to each other. You could see surprise in his eyes, but beneath that... oh? As you gazed in his eyes, you just knew everything was going to change in your life. That look of love can't be mistaken.

Leona: Running into Leona came off as a huge shock. But then again, the first time you saw him, you stepped on his tail.

"Still clumsy as ever huh, herbivore?"

Rather than letting you go, he pulled you closer and... you could easily see that fond look behind his smug grin.

"Yes... Leona."

Azul: "(Y-Y/N)?"

Finding him near your work place is even weirder. Didn't he go back to the coral see? Oh, how wrong you were. Turns out, he came back again, for you...

"You won't say no this time, will you?"

You smiled softly.

"You already know the answer, Azul."

Kalim: Going to the Scalding Sands again wasn't really a part of the plan. But, ever since you went to that special event with Kalim, you can't help but go back there. Maybe... a part of you just wanted to find him...

(Y/N)?!

"Huh?!"

Before you had a chance to blink, someone straight up flung himself at you.

"Kalim...?"

"You are here for me, right?!!!!"

He giggled.

"Yes..."

Vil: Honestly, you didn't think you would ever see him again. But, who knew life had another plans for you? You found him near a flower shop, lost in thought.

"Vil?"

"Ah, (Y/N)— wait, (Y/N)?!

He came closer and placed his hand over your head. It's like, he couldn't believe you were there.

There was also something else. Once again... you recognized the same look in his eyes you saw years ago in school.

"Vil?"

"Yes...?"

"Go out with me."

Idia: There was not a single chance to meet Idia. But, oh well, when life has plans, things happen somehow. Both of you were equally shocked to see each other. When the shock faded, he was ready to run away.

"Idia, wait!!"

"W-what is it?!"

"Marry me!!"

"H-h-HUH?!?!"

Oh well, the way he totally turned pink. You knew the answer."

Malleus: Visiting Briar Valley definitely wasn't in your bucket list. But for the sake of the meeting your company will have with him, you had to go there with your boss and colleagues. You had be lying if you said you weren't excited to see him. Not to mention he really is a king now. The entire time during the meeting he never once looked at you. That was just... sad. But, you kinda deserved that, just a little. That's what were you thinking while packing up.

(Y/N).

You almost jumped.

"Mal— I mean, your highness."

"You are really going to be like that?"

"What... do you mean?"

"You are aware."

"Well..."

"Stay."

"...I will..."

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words-of-wolf · 2 months

Text

Having some Thoughts once more.

Specifically thinking about self-policing identity. Obviously policing others is a huge issue in the alterhuman and adjacent communities, but setting up my soap box here to talk about how we internalise the need to police identity.

Putting a cut here because god do I need to stop writing these walls of text that people then have to scroll past for eternity even if they're not interested in reading it asjdkhjksah !!

When I was a teen, I saw otherkin and therians self-policing and I respected them. I thought they were really strong for doing that; I thought it was necessary, and that the only way we could ever be accepted as a community is if we leaned hard into minimising our experiences, making things "palatable". It wasn't a conscious belief, but it was very present.

So that's what I emulated. Any discussion of my experiences, or my feelings, usually would get a lot of reassurances sprinkled in there: "this is just my beliefs", "it's okay if you don't believe this too", "I know this sounds far-fetched", "this is just my internal identity".

I thought that made me sound reasonable and respectable. Maybe it even did.

But nowadays, I see people doing this kind of thing - minimising their experiences, adding disclaimers, policing themselves - and mostly it just makes me feel sad for them. Not in a condescending way, cause I've been there, I know how it feels to believe you've gotta make yourself sound "reasonable" to be respected. But I don't feel respect for that attitude, it just makes me sad.

And now, I'm here growing into a version of myself where I finally start to feel like I'm an adult, and I finally start to feel like I'm myself in a way unhindered by that constant fear and self-regulation, and I can see plain as day how much the self-policing doesn't actually work.

Cause you could present the weirdest, most outlandish identity possible to someone, but if you don't make a big deal out of it they probably won't either. Casual but unapologetic is, I think, the best way to go. You don't always have to hide yourself. (Obviously, take time to judge your situation first, but, same goes for most things outside of "the norm").

But presenting yourself as some vulnerable thing who has to placate any aggression before it even happens - well, that just makes people uncomfortable, and the mean ones will single you out as a target for it more than they'd do with someone who's just kinda "whatever" about the whole situation.

And the same thing goes for if you have an identity that feels weird by alterhuman standards, y'know? Chill but unapologetic will get you far. You'll feel more comfortable in yourself, too. Cause when everything you say is minimised, you can start to internalise that too - and it can make you feel like embracing your identity wholeheartedly is a bad thing, or like your own perception of self should have the same uncertainty to it that your descriptions of it do.

I think... the desire and impulse to self-police and minimise is not something you can just "switch off". But I hope reading this can get the ball rolling for those of you out there who struggle with this in the same way I did!

You don't need to police yourself. You don't need to censor yourself.

Doing this doesn't help the community, and it doesn't increase our standing and validity in the eyes of people on the outside. At best, it does nothing; at worst, it makes us seem uncertain, nervous, and an easy target.

And doing this hurts yourself. It affects things in ways that are hard to even see, but take it from someone who's experienced it: these feelings can pierce so, so deep.

You don't need to apologise for who you are. I don't care how "weird" your identity or experiences are - it's you, it's who you are, nobody can touch that. And if you're genuine about it, people will accept you for it, and sometimes gravitate towards you, even; particularly the others who feel the same way, who are the "weird ones" among the weirdos.

Cause when you're unapologetic, when you're genuine in a way that's not flavoured by fear, you kinda... become a safe space. You create an atmosphere around you that gives other people permission to do the same. To just be themselves, without the uncertainty and fear.

And that's really special! It's important.

#alterhuman #otherkin #therian #self acceptance #life advice

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bisexual-horror-fan · 11 months

Note

coming here humbly asking on my hands and knees for a follow up to the mickey fic of a threesome w mickey, randy, and reader 🙏🙏🙏 now i’m a little biased so i am meekly asking for some positive randy content but honestly asshole mickey is soooooo dreamy that i can handle him poking at randy a bit >:))) i just know the reader (me it’s me guys) is so into both of them but mickey being jealous of the emotional connection randy and they have >>>>

SORRY IM JUST A LITTLE INSANE feel free to do anything and everything i am READY

B! Baby! I am so glad you formally asked for this and gave me a good excuse to write this for Multi-May! I know it is wrapping up really soon so I gotta finish strong, I thought about doing this one all month and poured a ton of effort and ideas into this one. A little bit shorter than the last one but this one is just fucking good, like you know? It’s just good! I hope it meets your standards and that you seriously all enjoy it! Better Story, Improved Effects got a lot of love so I am hoping this hits in a similar fashion. Let’s not waste time, let’s fucking go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.8K. Randy Meeks And Mickey Altieri X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: DUB-CON. Non-Monogamy. Randy And Reader NEED To Talk And Work Through Their Issues. They Decide To Ignore Them. Cheating. Fighting. Complex Emotions. Voyeurism. Mentions Of Masturbation. Cuckolding. Mentions Of Murder And Ghostface Related Activities. Black Mail. Breaking And Entering. Being Filmed Without Consent. Sex Tape. Lying. Mickey Is A Little Shit (But We Love Him.) Threesome. Vaginal Fingering. Eating Out. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Taunting. Teasing. Reader Is A Big Confusing Mess Of Horny. Vaginal Sex. Unprotected Sex.

—

“Life, Imitating Art, Imitating Life.”

—

Randy doesn’t say anything right away. He knows he should, in fact he plans to! Really he does, but when he sees you he just can’t bring himself to say anything about it, and he hates himself just a little bit for that. It becomes this sick and a touch sad ritual, of working up the nerve to talk to you about it, hyping himself up before he sees you, ready to lay down the law but as soon as his eyes meet yours, that fire of anger burning so brightly is quickly snuffed out. You have a regular date or hang sesh and then that aforementioned ritual is finished with him masturbating to that tape again for the what, fifty seventh time? Before swearing off of it and promising to put an end to this and talk to you already.

It shouldn’t be this hard to clear the air but it is, he just cannot bring himself to talk about it, can’t force the words out of his mouth. He knows this can’t go on forever, it isn’t sustainable.

You know something is up with him. Randy isn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks he is, clearly something is going on but he isn’t saying anything first. You keep on waiting him out, hoping that he will be open and honest but he isn’t budging. You’d given him weeks to sort his head out and say what is on his mind but he still doesn’t give it up so if he won’t initiate that conversation, you suppose you will have to. Taking that initiative you surprise him, you show up on a day you know he doesn’t have class and when he answers the door he is still in his pyjamas and holding a bowl of cereal, sleepy eyes go wide, clearly shocked at seeing you this early and unexpected.

“Hey Randy.” You greet and still confused he greets you in kind, “Uh hi, what’s up?

“Not much, I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

It is clear that he has no excuse to not let you in, so he just nods and steps aside as he says, nervously, “Yeah, totally, of course.”

“Thanks.” You stride inside and then you are both sitting on the couch and you don’t waste time, “So what has been up with you lately?”

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, mid bite of cereal, the milk down his chin is endearing, you don’t comment on it. The spoon still sits between his fingers, his hand is over his mouth he asks, “Whaddya mean?”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed, “C’mon, I’m not fucking stupid, I know by now when something is bothering my boyfriend.”

He shakes his head, spoon back in the bowl he sets it down on the coffee table, trying to brush you off, “Is that what this is about? I’m fine, just school shit, nothing’s up.”

“Randy.” You deadpan and he says your name back in a similar fashion, exasperated expression donning his features and you throw your hands up with a scoff, “Could you stop treating me like I’m dumb?”

“I’m not!’ Randy argues as he tries to convince you, “Everything is fucking fine, seriously, did you come over just to grill me?”

You speak a little louder, anger beginning to colour your tone, “Don’t make me feel bad for playing the part of the concerned girlfriend who’s only worried about your wellbeing.”

That makes anger flare inside him as well but he doesn’t say anything, holding his tongue as you continue on, “I am not letting you wiggle out of this! Seriously I can see something is wrong, why don’t you want to talk to me about it? You can trust me!”

You saying those last four words sets him off, reverberating around his skull, mocking and cruel, “You can trust me.” What a fucking joke.

“Trust? You…You want to talk about trust?” He accuses and you say, “Yeah I do! I want to talk about trust.”

His hand meets the back of his neck and then runs through his hair, going from back to front before it wipes over his face and he sighs, “Alright. Fine.” He gets up and goes over to the tv, he picks up a VHS tape and you ask, “Are you seriously putting on a movie right now?”

“How about you trust me?” The tone is biting and it slightly takes you aback, he hasn’t spoken to you like this before so you shut up and decide to trust him.

The tape is put in and then he comes back and sits down beside you, the VCR is whirring as it starts up, and then it begins playing after that strange intro, supposedly by Ghostface, the words don’t even register as your mind reels. Your jaw drops at what you see. There you are, bent over on Mickey’s couch, stripped naked and getting fucked stupid, your hair being pulled, exposing your lustful expression to the camera, moaning like a whore all the while.

“So you still want to talk about trust?”

Randy’s voice takes you out of your stupor, your mouth still open, you turn to him and that makes him pause for a moment. Mouth opening and closing a few times before you force out, “Randy I-I’m, I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t know what to say? You cheat on me and fuck Mickey and you don’t know what to say?” You don’t know where to look, meeting his eyes seems like an impossible task but also looking at the tv and being confronted with what you did in shocking focus also seemed insurmountable.

“No, I don't know what to say, okay?!” You feel sick, stomach twisting and your fingers tangle together in your lap, he responds in short order, “You fuck Mickey and make a fucking sex tape and you can’t even look at me right now but you wanna talk about trust?”

He doesn’t stop talking, no stuttering, or tripping over his words, it is clear even though he hasn’t brought this up before he had thought a lot about what he wanted to say. Words continue to pour from his mouth, the question filled with venom, tone so sharp it could cut, “How many times has this happened?”

“Just the once.” You admit, “And you filmed your little homemade porno the first hook up with him?! What the fuck?”

“I didn’t know he filmed it.” You say it quietly, almost impossible to hear over how you are moaning and begging for Mickey to let you cum for the third time since the tape started.

“You didn’t…Know he filmed it?” You look up, meet his eyes again and shook your head and after studying and scrutinizing the look in your eyes he can tell that you mean it, that you had as you were saying right now, “No fucking idea.”

Well that sure as shit makes this more complicated. Of course Randy is still upset about you cheating but you being filmed without your consent is fucked up. You are thinking the same thing, it is fucked up but also, stealing glances back and forth between your boyfriend and the evidence of you illicit affair, you can’t help it. Something about it is unmistakably hot as fuck, not only the sound, the view and the reminder, just how uninhibited you are in that moment with Mickey. The memories come flooding back, how he touched you, the confidence and the way he made you feel, your legs press together and you hope Randy doesn’t notice. A hard swallow as you try to conjure up anger or disgust, anything other than arousal over you being filmed without realising it, the fact that you and Randy hadn’t hooked up since you cheated wasn’t helping, you were in need. The reason seems obvious now as to why you hadn’t been physical since that night.

You can’t believe that this happened, your head feels stuff full, just totally all over the place but in the mess that is currently between your ears and Randy speaks again, “When did this happen anyway?”

That is when it hits. “Over half a month ago. That night you ditched me to go to the movies. I went to the party and met up with Mickey and he comforted me and middle, middle, middle, we hooked up. It just kinda happened.”

You say it slowly and you ask your own question before he can speak, “When did you get the tape?”

“I don’t think that is important-” You cut him off, “It is. Tell me.”

It takes some pushing and prodding and he admits he got it on Saturday, the morning after you hooked up with Mickey. “Sooo you had this tape for almost a fucking month and you didn’t say anything until I had to drag it out of you?”

He isn’t looking at you now, he isn’t saying anything, chewing nervously on his thumbnail, the tape is still fucking running. The sounds of skin on skin and moaning, wet and filthy, you and Mickey’s verbal back and forth, and you notice, he has a pillow over his lap and you don’t think, you act. You reach forward and rip it away and your suspicions are confirmed, “Oh my God you’re rock hard right now!”

“No I’m not-” You laugh at that, the shocked expression as well as the attempt to hide the obvious, as if he could talk his way out of this, “Dude I can see it, you’re practically leaking pre-cum through your pants.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I’m hard but that doesn’t mean anything-” You cut him off, “No it does, I think it means that you are into this a lot. Is this why you haven’t said anything to me?”

A gasp and a point, you are sitting side saddle on the couch now, eyes and attention locked on him as you accuse, “Is this why we haven’t had sex? Have you been getting off to this tape instead?”

“Yes! Okay? I’ve been…I’ve been getting off to this tape a lot, more than I should, too much.”

The admission sits between you both, taking up the rest of the space on the couch not occupied by the pair of you. Now that all of this was out in the open, the hurt, the betrayal but also the fact that this awful thing you did, awoke some new and unexpected sexual parts of both of you. How do you even begin to unpack this? You had no clue.

A sigh before you speak up first and ask, “What are we gonna do about this?”

Mickey was debating over takeout for dinner, Chinese or pizza, phone in hand and looking over the menus when there was a frantic pounding on the door.

He hangs up the phone as he gets up muttering, “What the hell?” Striding to the door he calls out, “Calm down, I’m coming.”

He opens the door to see you and Randy standing there nearly shoulder to shoulder, “Oh hey you two, what’s up?”

“Not much.” You say and Randy asks quickly, “Can we come in?”

That surprises him. He pauses and wonders how he can turn you both down with a reasonable excuse but he knows he can’t so he holds the door open and says, “Sure.”

You both come in and after he closes the door he asks, “I was just about to order dinner in, are you guys hungry or?”

“No, not particularly.” Randy says easily, he is looking around, you realise he had never been over to Mickey’s place before but he sure has seen it enough. Mickey poses a question, “You gonna uh, sit down?”

You and Randy both share a look, maintaining eye contact with him you take those few steps and sit down on the couch, right where you got fucked stupid almost a month previous. Randy breaks the eye contact and he takes the seat next to you, trying and failing to subtly wipe his sweaty palms on his pants, and as Mickey comes over with a raise of his eyebrows as he asks, “The fuck is up with you two?”

“We wanted to talk about what happened a few weeks back.” Randy started and you say next, “About us hooking up.”

“About us doing what?” He looks shocked, taken aback, Randy rolls his eyes and you deadpan over his acting, “Wow, and the Oscar goes to. Come on Mickey, Randy knows, drop the act.”

He doesn’t, he is still defending himself and keeping up the charade and Randy gets up, he goes over and turns on the tv, and Mickey asks what he is doing but once the tape is pulled from Randy’s coat, inserted into the VCR and starts running it becomes abundantly clear.

“So you gonna to keep pretending this didn’t happen?” Randy asked and Mickey turned to face you both again, “I can’t believe this.”

“Thank you, finally-” You started before Mickey cut you off, “So you came over to talk about how Ghostface is obviously targeting us?”

A heavy beat before you say, “What?”

Mickey’s expression shifts, as if what he said was fact, obvious, what else could this be about? He continued talking, “I mean you heard the opening at the start of this tape, that is what we should be worried about, right?”

You laugh in disbelief before you tell him, “No we came over to talk about how you filmed us fucking-”

“I didn’t do this.” He argues quickly, one hand to his chest and the other pointing to the tv and Randy bites back, “You seriously want us to believe that? You always have that camera on you.”

Mickey kept it going as he said, “Clearly he broke in and set this up, hand to God I didn’t film us! We are both the victims here.”

“You’re joking.” You say dryly and he shakes his head, “Hardly!”

“You think we are both victims?” You ask and he says yes, Randy asks next, “How?”

“I didn’t consent to being filmed either.” He was really piling it on and Randy says, “I don’t believe it.”

Mickey fires back, “Why is it so unbelievable? Ghostface can play stalker and maim and kill but breaking into my place to make a blackmail porno tape is an impossible feat?”

When he puts it like that it is more convincing but still you aren’t sold yet, you have a question next, “Why would Ghostface do that? To what end?”

“To hurt Randy obviously! To hurt all of us, hell, even turn us against each other, if we are divided we are easier to pick off, aren’t we?” Why was Mickey making sense right now? Did you really believe him or did you just want to fuck him again? Did you truly care?

“So you really didn’t set this up?” You ask and Mickey’s arms cross, a shrug as he asserts, “God no.”

Randy spoke up, “Okay, fine, fine, even if I buy your reasoning, you still fucked my girlfriend man!”

“Shouldn’t have given me the opportunity.” Mickey said with a smile, “I mean fucks sake you see her! Like I could resist when I had the chance?”

He is looking right at you and you look away, eyes on the floor.

“So you don’t even feel bad about it?” Randy asked and Mickey laughed with a shake of his head, “Nope, not even a little.”

“You are such an asshole!” Randy spits and Mickey says, “Yeah, well, you ever thought maybe you deserved it for taking her for granted?”

He is looking over the take out menus again, unbothered, why was he so fucking hot right now? Mickey spoke again before either of you could, “So why are you both still here exactly? Just so Meeks can yell and stamp his feet, get it all outta his system or?”

That is when you and Randy share a look. A raise of your eyebrows, a silent question asking if he still wanted to go through with it and he gave a nod. That is when you spill your guts, about Randy getting the tape and how he liked it much more than he should have, which led to Mickey laughing at the admission. “Holy fucking shit! Randy is a fucking cuck!”

“Yeah, yeah fucking laugh it up.” Randy muttered, picking at the fraying thread on the edge of the couch cushion, and Mickey said with that same shit eating grin, “Oh I intend to.”

You placed a hand on Randy’s knee and squeezed reassuringly, which gave him the courage to say, “So the real reason we came by is I want your help.”

“You want my help?” Mickey’s brows pinch together, a shake of his head as he tries to process it, eyes roving over the pair of you on his couch, when it fully sinks in, hands up as he says in utter delight, “Ooooh my God. You want me to give you tips on how to fuck your girlfriend better? That is it isn’t it?”

His question is met with a single nod from both of you, leading to him exclaiming, “This is too fucking perfect.”

“Why did we want to do this again?” Randy asked no one in particular, hands together and his own eyes on the floor. “Lighten up, Meeks! Christ.”

“How can I when you are such an insufferable dickhead?” Randy asked, eyes up he said next, “Listen, that tape I…Watching it hurt, a lot, made me totally fucking jealous and feel like an idiot but I can give it up, as much as I hate to admit it, you clearly know what you are doing. I wanna make shit work between us-” He gestured between you and himself, “-so I thought fuck it, instead of blowing up my relationship and being a stubborn dumbass, I could swallow my pride and come here and ask for some ways to improve myself.”

“How very big of you. Excited to see if that is the only thing about you that is.” Mickey coos leading to Randy to roll his eyes and he sighs, asking, “ Asshole. So?”

Mickey responds easily, “I’m serious, you know. Not everyone could admit their shortcomings like this, good for you! And to answer your question I think the very least I can do is help you out here. Plus, I’d be an idiot to turn down another chance like this.”

The way he is looking at you right now, hungry, excited, like he is on a bit of an ego trip, which why wouldn’t he be? Randy found out you cheated on him, fucked Mickey and had gotten off to the tape of said affair God knows how many times, leading to here, to now, asking for help on how to better fuck you from that same man you cheated on him with. If you were in Mickey’s shoes you are sure you’d be a bit of a peacock right now too.

You hadn’t been inside his bedroom yet. You didn’t spend the night, during your last hook up, after hanging around for the end of Stab you got dressed and made your way back to your own place. The bedroom fit him, matched the rest of the place, clean but a little cluttered, and tons of posters on the walls, mosaicked around, not quite overlapping, but close, still given the space to breathe and have their own moment. You weren’t exactly that concerned with the wall decor at the moment though, currently you were on the bed, Mickey was starting to touch you and Randy nearby to watch every single moment of it go down.

Mickey’s hand was on the back of your neck, he was leaning in and that is when Randy spoke up, “Woah, none of that.”

“What?” He asked, glancing over to your boyfriend and Randy elaborated, tone and gaze firm, “No kissing her on the mouth, that is for us.”

Mickey laughed, a roll of his eyes and he said, “Whatever you say.”

Instead of kissing you on the lips he dipped down, first kiss met your jaw and he didn’t stop, mouth dragged lower as did his hands, heat began to pool inside of you in short order. There was something about this that honestly made it hotter than it already was, not being allowed to kiss traditionally made this more intense, dirtier, not to mention the whole scenario was already enough to do your head in, about to fuck someone who wasn’t your boyfriend in front OF your boyfriend.

Mickey’s mouth lifted slightly as he asked quietly as his fingers were teasing under the edge of your shirt, “Was this your idea or his?”

“It was a mutual decision.” You tell him on an exhale and he hums, “Sure, sure, mutual.”

You laugh lightly and chastise him, “You’re the worst.”

His hand was up your shirt and had tugged one of your bra cups aside, a roll of one of your nipples making you arch closer to him, head falling back with a quiet moan. “Yeah sure it feels like you hate me right now.” He teased you.

It didn’t take long for clothes to start coming off, mostly yours but some of Mickey’s too, Randy seems a tad reluctant to shed any of his layers but he is being more involved. Closer, in fact right now he was kissing you, hands cradling your face as Mickey’s hand was sliding your underwear off. Your eyes were closed, you were caught up in the kiss and so when Mickey’s fingers touched down, that first confident but soft swipe over sensitive flesh your legs jerked and you moaned into Randy’s mouth.

That makes him break the kiss, look down to see what was happening, Mickey was looking up at you, catching your reaction as his thumb passed over your clit, a slow circle that drew in a hard breath from you. “Fuck-”

You cursed as he pressed a hair harder, his hand adjusts and two fingers begin to slide into your soaked hole causing you to tense, your hand that was on Randy’s shoulder grips harder. It’s when Mickey curls his fingers and you cry out that has you tugging on the material of your boyfriend’s shirt.

He was thinking hard. Watching the intense eye contact, the way Mickey did everything so confidently, like he was just totally assured that what he did would have the desired effect on you, as if by believing it made it so. Is that part of this? Acting completely unintimidated and surefooted doing more to seal your pleasure than actual technique or is it a mix? He thinks so. Randy also knows that he is extremely hard and also feeling thoroughly left out, he doesn’t want to just watch this, he wants some more hands-on experience.

Randy pulls away, saying seriously, “Show me exactly how you are doing that.”

Mickey’s eyes flick from your face over to his, seemingly surprised not only by Randy speaking but his boldness. “Sure, get down here.”

Now you thought it was just going to be your boyfriend observing, you were fine with that, more than fine with it, but you didn’t think it would be like this, so involved, it’s looking like this might turn into an all out threesome with you in the middle of it. You aren’t complaining, you are exceedingly turned on by the very thought.

Legs spread wide, the pair of them both there, Randy seems reluctant to touch Mickey at all but some closeness is required for this. The adjustment takes a moment, Mickey’s hand leaves and you want to complain but you know with a little patience in a moment you will be heavily rewarded. A quiet moment of communication is shared, “Line up like this and-”

Two fingers are slipping inside of you again but with a look down the length of your body, you can see that one belongs to each of them. Mickey’s hand is on the bottom, Randy’s on top, overlapping it and the middle finger from each sliding in, “-when you feel this, move like this and-” Another curl, led by one with the other following and you gasp. That same cocky grin on his face, “-usually that happens.”

“Fuck.” Randy was the one to curse this time, seeing you have this reaction was good, being the one to help incite it was amazing. You were soaked, practically pulsing on his fingers, it emboldens him, he takes initiative. He copies what Mickey did earlier, his thumb finds your clit but he rubs it in his own way, that one that he knows makes your thighs want to clamp closed and your breathing become uneven and Mickey takes notice. The action actually makes him feel a pang of jealousy.

The shared look, the admiration, the fact that Randy’s biggest hurdle is his overly cautious and seemingly over thinking nature is beginning to hit him. Randy does know you and your body a good deal, the way you two are is just different, he just needs to stop treating you like you are made of glass and you’ll be set. That knowledge bothers him a lot. Even watching the pair of you kiss was difficult, the easy intimacy between you both was something he wish he had, sure he could fuck you dumb but Randy had really got you, he was your boyfriend after all, he had that emotional investment on his side. Mickey pushes all of these thoughts and everything else aside, he commits to the moment and instead teases Randy,“Oh so you do know some stuff.”

Randy exhales amusedly through his nose, he hadn’t stopped, the pleasure is soaking into your bones as he responds, “Shut up man, I’m not a total idiot.”

Some light fingering and you were feeling boneless and weak, having the pair of them totally focused on and devoted to you was intense to say the least and heavenly to say the most. Mickey’s finger left and Randy took over, his ring finger slipping in without missing a beat, no hesitation and not clumsy in the least. A new sensation made you gasp, Mickey had scooted in closer, one hand on your hip his mouth took over for your boyfriends thumb, a lick with the flat of his tongue that had you letting out a moan, fuck his mouth was good. His tongue felt incredible, hot, silky, the combination of his mouth and Randy’s fingers working in and out, experimenting, scissoring and toying with that spot, yeah you aren’t going to last terribly long.

Mickey’s lips wrapped around the sensitive flesh, he sucks and you moan loudly from the sharp jolt of pleasure that tears through you. “Oh my God yes-”

“Fucking hell, what are you doing?” Randy asks and that helps soothe some of those emotions from before. Mickey feels better, every pass of his tongue that draws out more moans and pulls you closer to climax is just fueling his ego. Randy might have history and emotion and some more intimate knowledge of you but Mickey wasn’t going down without a fight, he was going to give this his all. He plays with you for another moment before his mouth lifts up and he looks over to Randy, “What, are you that helpless? You need me to walk you through how to eat too? Should we cover how to walk next?”

“How about you stop your shitty stand up routine and use that mouth for something worthwhile?” Randy bites back and you agree, pleading, “Yeah, stop fighting already, please.”

“Fine, fine-” He sighs and says, “Get your mouth on there and I’ll talk you through it.”

He gets up and out from between your legs, he sits next to you on the bed and Randy takes over, he gets comfortable, his fingers slow down but don’t stop. The presses on that spot inside are more purposeful and keep the low and easy simmer of pleasure inside of you rolling comfortably.

“Don’t do too much to start, even the smallest things can have a big effect, I’m telling you when someone is worked up-” He nudges you with a wink before he continues on, “-even breathing on them just right can get them squirming.”

“I wanna say you are bullshitting but you haven’t been wrong yet.” Randy admits, the next feeling of warm breath fanning over your soaked cunt does make you shiver, his eyebrows raise and he looks up to see Mickey staring down at him, a look on his face saying, “I told you so.”

Randy fights the urge to insult him and asks instead, “What next?”

“Start licking but don’t focus too much up top, you know? The whole area needs attention, the variation can make or break it, and can turn a good session into a stellar one.” Mickey’s words are aiding in all this, he is speaking in this tone that makes you clench on Randy’s fingers and pulse on his tongue. Hearing the instructions spelled out, told just what is going to happen and then feeling it is heightening sensation massively.

Randy is getting more certain and proactive as he goes along, he is taking the advice that is being given but taking what he knows you enjoy and blending it. The result is making it hard for you to listen, you are much too caught up in the feeling.

Mickey’s voice does break through when you hear, “Get your lips around it, yeah like that, and don’t underestimate how good some suction can feel.”

You barely process the words until the feeling hits, you cry out a mix of their names, body trembling and in two minutes after that you whine out how close you are. That is when it all stops, you groan loudly as you feel the edge slipping away, about to complain and you see Mickey had pushed Randy off of you, “What the hell man? She was about to cum.”

“You think I don’t know what she sounds like when she is about to cum? This is part of it! Do you want my help or not?” Mickey asks and Randy shakes his head and gets off his knees, moving out of the way as directed, “Can I ask the purpose of being so cruel? Like do you just looove edging or?”

“I mean I’d be lying if I said I didn’t but no, if you deny em once, twice, more, it is easier to get them to cream all over your cock.” Mickey said it as if it was painfully obvious. The crude words make your straining clit throb, you wished that them talking about you as if you weren’t here and spread out naked between them didn’t get you so hot and bothered.

Randy did have to admit, it did seem like he made it insanely easy when he did that, the part of the tape where Mickey made you squirt is forced into his mind and he shuts up promptly. He had mixed emotions about this, jealousy, anger, humiliation but also, curiosity and undeniable arousal.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how she needs to be fucked and then maybe you can have some half decent sex.” Mickey taunted and you scoff, “Stop shit talking him so much and fuck me already, okay?”

“Whatever the lady wants.” Mickey sighs as he is taking off the rest of his clothing, jeans and underwear shed and you manage to tear your eyes away to look over to Randy, “You going to-?”

“I don’t know yet.” He admitted and Mickey said, “If you are worried about me, don’t be, if you wanna jack off to this I wouldn’t blame you.”

“My God, do you ever stop talking?” You ask around a laugh as Mickey starts to get on top of you, “Mostly when I’m sleeping.”

Randy reaches out, hand on Mickey’s chest and he said, “Hold on-”

Mickey looks up to see the wrapped condom in your boyfriend's hand and he smiles, “What? You really want me to wear a condom when I’ve already fucked her raw before?”

“Uh yeah, obviously?” Randy said and Mickey rolled his eyes, one hand reaches out he takes the condom and tosses it aside and the other under one of your knees he is lining up, “Yeah I’m already following your fucking stupid no kissing rule so-” A strong push forward of his hips and he slips inside of you, an arch of your back and a loud moan, your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him the rest of the way in, a breathless moan from Mickey before he finishes the thought, “-I don’t think so.”

He soaks in the feeling of you, hot, tight, wet, wrapped around him before he starts to pull out, half way before he bucks forward again, “See? Even she doesn’t want me to wear one.”

Randy should be annoyed, should cuss him out and tell him off but fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Mickey is starting to fuck you with an easy pace, very aware of how closely Randy is watching at this moment. He is going to pull out all the stops, he is going to make you cum on his dick, he is going to make you scream and squirt and show Randy just how good he can be to you. Mickey’s mind is running, he knows that with every trick he shows, move he shares, advice he imparts he is only giving Randy more of an edge, he isn’t sure he can fuck you away from Randy but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when he and Nancy are going to put that plan forth next month, not when Randy is going to die and then Mickey is going to be there to comfort you, help you grieve and put you back together.

For now he is going to have fun, safe in the knowledge he was going to get you in the end, no matter what. It was going to be a great night, especially as Randy seemingly can’t hold back, opening up his own pants and desperate to get off to the view in front of him. He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder as he starts to attempt to conjure up some adequate verbal degradation to throw Randy’s way through the building pleasure.

Randy had a hand around himself, starting to touch himself as he breathed out, "Make sure you pull out."

Mickey nodded absentmindedly, huffing out over the sounds of your moans, "Yeah, yeah, I will."

No way was he going to, the thought of pumping you full of cum and Randy getting his sloppy seconds was way too sweet.

#Mickey Altieri X reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #Randy Meeks x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #Multi-May #CHECK IT OUTTTT #The long (not really) awaited sequel!#Enjoy it!

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