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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

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kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small.

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes.

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners.

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?”

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head.

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face.

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days.

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you.

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours.

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue.

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall.

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help.

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly.

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more.

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second.

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next.

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head.

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow.

he notes your impatience, amused.

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it.

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–”

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now.

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing.

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear.

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full.

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head.

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.”

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin x reader #toji x size kink

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lovebugism · 1 year

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babe virgin!eddie has my heart and pussy fr

when he cums inside you for the first time you KNOW that mf is shaking and whimpering. ughhhh fuck he sounds so cute and pretty too, his moans and whimpers all soft and high pitched 😩😩😩. he’s holding onto your body desperately. poor baby is so sensitive. he’s on the verge of tears because he’s never felt anything like that before.

anon ur so right.... thots are certainly being thot rn. 18+

eddie liked to say that he was only half a virgin when he met you because it wasn’t like he was totally inexperienced

he almost got a blow job once in the bathroom at the hideout after a show

but he was drunk and nervous and couldn’t get it up so that was a bust (or lack thereof)

a couple years back, he nearly lost his virginity to a really pretty girl who was also a virgin

but they both chickened out at the very last second because they figured the first time they had sex, it should probably be with someone they actually sort of liked romantically

so it’s not like eddie’s never touched a girl before

but the only thing that’s ever made him come is his right hand

the first time he’s inside of you, he doesn’t move for several long moments

he lays all of his weight on top of you and hides his face in your neck

every one of his heavy breaths and whines fans against your skin

and you know that he’s a virgin, but at first you think he’s being so still because he doesn’t want to hurt you

“it’s okay, eds. you can move”

“no the fuck i can’t, sweetheart,” he laughs breathlessly “not unless you want me to come, like, right fucking now”

it makes you smile because you can feel the subtle twitches of his hard cock inside of you

and you’ve never made a guy come this fast before so you’re honestly a little flattered

“that’s okay. you can come whenever you want to, eddie”

he all but shudders at your words as he whines into your neck

“don’t say shit like that, baby. ’s gonna make me come”

“do it then. come for me, eds”

five and a half pumps inside of you and he’s done for

he tenses and stills against you, letting out a choked moan as his orgasm rolls over his body

it creeps up on him at first before hitting him full force

and you moan right along with him when you feel him release several spurts of come inside of you

he’s never come that hard before, not with his own hand

and you’ve never felt so fucking full

he shudders against you while he comes and lets out pretty little moans and delicate whimpers into your neck

you coax him through every wave of his orgasm

you wrap your thighs around his waist to pull him further into you

and rub your palms up and down his back

but what really gets him are the praises you whisper in his ear

“good boy, eds. you’re doing so good. so perfect for me.”

and even though he’s well spent, his hips keep rocking into you after the fact

both of you moan at the wet squelches of his cock inside you as it pushes through a mixture of his come and your slick

and it surprises you because “aren’t you sensitive, eds?”

you feel him nod against you with a strangled cry

“wanna make it good for you too”

“you don’t have to, eds—”

for the first time since putting his dick in you, he pulls his head from the side of yours to look at you

his shiny with sweat, eyes glazed over, cheeks blotchy and glowing red, lips swollen from where he’d been biting them and pressing wet kisses along your neck and shoulder

“i’ll be damned if i'm gonna be the virgin who can’t make his girl come on the first go around”

you smile at how conscious he is of your pleasure

“it might take me a little while…”

“don’t care. we have all fucking night”

he keeps trusting shallowly inside of you, only pulling a couple inches out of you before slamming his hips back into you

and he’s just whining the entire time because he’s so fucking sensitive but he wants to make you feel good

you bring a hand down to your clit to help speed up the process

and when eddie realizes what you’re doing, he shoves your hand out of the way and replaces it with his own

your pussy grips him unbelievably tight when you come, fluttering and gushing against him

he’s nothing but a shuddering and sobbing mess on top of you

you hold his fucked out face in your hands after

and kiss away the stray tears streaming down his cheeks <3

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie spaghetti hc #st headcanons

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hoodharlow · 4 months

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Sleeping with the Enemy

AN: this is my first time writing Jack as a non-rapper so pls be kind 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Requested? Yes by my fave @harryshouseparty

Warnings: smut (girls kissing with slight groping, bathroom head, car head, all ending bedroom) and a 🤪 ending

Word Count: 6.6k words

For once there was no dinner rush and Leia could step out for a quick bathroom break. She took off her apron and undid her ponytail braid. She made her way to the bathroom in her office. She did her business and took a second to fix up her office. All her diplomas, awards, accolades and certifications were neatly adorned on her wall perpendicular to her desk. The only award not in her office was her James Beard medal. She kept that safely displayed in her newly decorated condo she shared with her boyfriend.

At twenty-five she’s accomplished so much as a chef and she couldn’t feel prouder of herself. Moving out of her hometown at eighteen to go to culinary school then working at various high end restaurants all over the US and Mexico, Leia moved back to her hometown and began working as a chef in the restaurant sister to the vineyard her parents owned. ‘Sabor a Mí’, her restaurant, went through several renovations and it quickly became one of the most popular high-end restaurants in Kentucky.

Everything was coming together. She was in a good place with her boyfriend, a lawyer, of six months and he was going to meet her parents. They’ve seen him at the restaurant when he’d invite his clients to dinner at her restaurant but haven’t been properly introduced. Her parents knew it was serious if she asked if could bring him over to the house. Hell they didn’t know if she was even interested in anyone. For a while they thought Leia was going to be a nun or something because the last time she mentioned liking someone was in high school when she planned to ask one of the most popular guys for the Sadie Hawkens dance her senior year. Though that resulted in a shit show and since then she never revealed any interest to anyone. It was also one of the reasons why she moved to New York for culinary school.

It didn’t help that his family was the competition. Well not entirely. Jack Harlow’s family ran a successful bourbon distillery. According to her twin brother, Lucas, (their dad was a huge Star Wars fan and named them after the siblings from the franchise) he was 'chill'. Leia knew that of course. She and her brother were in the same friend group as Jack. But after that night, she left the friend group and kept to herself until she left Kentucky.

Leai’s timer went off in her pocket, letting her know her five minute bathroom break was over. She pulled her wavy hair back into a tight ponytail braid. She did her rounds around a few tables asking if people were enjoying their meals. Everyone complimented her and her employees’ hard work. She walked back to the kitchen when a loud cackle followed up a clap, caught her attention. She turned her head and lo and behold her #1 enemy was sitting at the head of one of the large tables for groups of eight or more. Leia spotted her brother beside him and composed herself.

“What the fuck is Jack Harlow doing here?” She asked Berenice, her best friend and pastry chef of the restaurant.

“No fucking way? My girlfriend has been–wait, why are you annoyed? It’s good for business if someone like him is here.” She shrugged.

“Personally I don’t want the enemy at my restaurant.”

Berenice rolled her eyes. “Just because sells alcohol like you doesn't mean he's the enemy, escandalosa.”

“Yes it does, now go kick him out while I fight my brother.” Leia pleaded.

“Stay in the kitchen, we sent out their entrees when you took your bathroom break. They’ll be gone in half an hour tops.”

“Fine, but I'm not doing it because you told me to.”

Leia took a meat tenderizer and went to town on some chicken breasts for milanesa de pollo. Her cooks knew of her temperament and just let do her thing when she was stressed and overwhelmed. A few minutes later she cooled down and went to the station where the cooks brought out the finished meals for her to approve and get taken to the guests.

“It’s still overcooked for his liking.” a server came by with steak and bean puree with a salsa verde gastrique.

“It’s a fucking thin cut of meat, obviously it won’t be rare.” a cook mumbled.

“What table is this?” Leia asked them after sending out a plate

“Table twelve.” the server said.

Leia poked her head out of the kitchen door and scoped out who was at table twelve. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Seated at table twelve was her boyfriend, Javier, sitting next to him was a beautiful woman. It took Leia a moment to realize it was Agnes Ngyuen, the daughter of one the partners from the law firm Javier worked at. Leia didn't think much of it. Javier always went out with partners from the law firm. It wasn't until he held her cheek and kissed her. Berenice came to see and saw her best friend’s boyfriend.

“Leilita, I’m so–”

Leia closed the door and grabbed a large carving fork. She approached the cook that was remaking the steak for her boyfriend and grabbed the cast iron skillet with an oven mit.

“Leia, where are you going?” Berenice asked her cautiously.

“I’m bringing our esteemed guest his rare steak.” Leia smiled.

With her back Leia pushed open the door. She strutted her way to Javier’s table with a bright smile. She caught Jack’s attention when she walked past them.

“Where’s Lucas?” A woman dressed similar to Leia asked Jack’s table.

“He left five minutes ago.” Jack answered.

“Fuck, I think his sister is gonna kill him.” she said

“Who?” He asked.

“Her boyfriend…well soon to be ex-boyfriend, depending if he survives this.”

The entire restaurant got quiet as Leia plopped a piece of meat in front of some guy. The woman sitting next to him jumped back.

“Is this rare enough or would you like me to get a live cow and carve out a piece from it?” Leia asked the man.

“Baby,” he began but caught himself when he remembered he was sitting next to him.

“Baby? Who is this Javier?” the woman next to him.

“‘Who is this?’” Leia mimicked her. “We’ve met a handful of times at your father’s stupid dinner parties. You would bore all the guests with stories about your overseas travels to Europe.”

“Leia, this isn’t the time or place.” Javier said, pulling her away.

“You made it that when you deci–”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” He cut her off. He waved to the woman beside him. “Let’s go.”

They walked past Leia. she looked up and her eyes landed on Jack, but she quickly turned away. She fixed her chef’s jacket.

“I apologize for causing a scene. All meals will be comped and we’ll be sending out desserts to go.” she said before walking back to the kitchen.

Once the restaurant went back to people being lively as if the head chef didn’t just catch her partner cheating on her in her own restaurant.

“Excuse me.” the woman that approached Jack’s table looking for Leia’s brother said.

“Wait,” Jack said, going after her.

“Yes?” she turned back.

“How much do y’all make in one night?” He asked her.

“Depends, weekdays we don’t make much. When we do reservations only, there’s more demand and people want to pay more, on weekends we make the most profit.” she explained.

“Can you give me a ball-park estimate,” Jack read the name tag, “Berenice?”

“Tonight we were going to make about five grand. It was a pretty slow night.”

“Okay thank you.” He said.

“WHERE’S THE FUCKING MEAT TENDERISER?!” Leia yelled from the kitchen.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Berenice smiled.

“I’ll be at my table.” Jack nodded.

Berenice’s smile dropped and she pushed the kitchen door open. Jack heard yelling in Spanish between both women and took it as his cue to go back to his table.

“Who’s Leia to you?” Nickie asked in a tone that implied he wasn’t asking out of curiosity.

“Lucas’s sister.” Jack answered.

“She’s also his ex from high school.” Ace said mid chew.

“She would have been if he didn’t leave her fine ass hanging the night of our Sadie Hawkins dance because Kelly Cole asked him to chill at her place because she wanted to get her college boyfriend jealous.” Urban said nonchalantly.

“Shit why don’t you go to the middle of the restaurant and tell my fucking business to the rest of the people eating.” Jack grumbled. "Also you would have done the same. It was Kelly fucking Cole."

“No, I wouldn’t have. Leia’s fine as fuck now and she was fine as fuck then.” his best friend shook his head.

Urban didn’t see Leia like that, but he was well aware of the fact that Jack and Leia liked each other back in high school. He knew his best friend was an idiot for ditching Leia.

“She’s hot, if you’re into them being a bit crazy.” Nickie shrugged.

“Repeat that shit tomorrow when we meet up with Lucas.” Ace shook his head. “In her defense I’d go full Catherine Zeta Jones in No Reservations if my partner showed up to my restaurant with their side chick.”

“Honestly that guy is lucky Lucas is whipped for Harumi and left us or he’d be leaving in an ambulance instead with his two feet.” Urban sipped his exported beer.

Jack went back to his food. It had gone cold but it was still delicious. He missed Leia’s cooking. It had been almost seven years since he ate any of her cooking. The few times he’d go over to the Ruiz's after a soccer game with Lucas the food wasn’t the same. Mrs Ruiz was a phenomenal cook but Leia’s food was out of this world.

He knew she was going to go far in cooking. To this day he still felt bad for ditching her. Even more because the night before they had sex and he knew it was Leia’s first time. He tried reaching out that night but she removed him from social media and blocked his number. She was valid for being upset with him but he still wanted to apologize.

A server came by with a tray of desserts already packaged for the group.

“Can I get the check?” Jack asked.

“We’re comping all meals tonight.” They said politely.

“I know but I wanna leave a tip.” He said, doing his signature grin.

The server’s cheeks flushed. “Of course, follow me.”

Jack got up and followed them to the counter to pay. He took out five hundred dollar bills and handed them to the server. “These are for you.”

“Oh thank you so much.” They grinned.

They turned the iPad over to Jack with his total. It was well over $300. He put in a custom tip of ten grand and paid. He signed the e-receipt then flipped the iPad to the server so they could print it. They ripped the receipt out of the receipt printer and scribbled something on it before handing it to him.

“We’re not accepting payments.” Leia said, snatching the receipt from the server. She caught their number written at the bottom before fisting it and tossing it on the small trash bin. “Bere is taking care of closing. Tomorrow we’ll be closed so show up on Saturday at three for prep.”

“Yes chef.” They nodded.

“Have a good rest of the night and see you Saturday.” she smiled. She turned to Jack. "And you, leave my property before I call the police to escort you out."

"Even you know that's extreme." Jack leaned in on the hostess booth. "I'm merely a customer of this fine establishment."

"You're not a customer. You're the enemy and probably spying on us. Should I expect y'all to open a restaurant soon?" She crossed her arms, slightly pushing up her breasts to him.

Jack chuckled. "I’ll see you around Leia." He shamelessly gave her a once over eyeing her chest then went back to his table.

"He's so fucking infuriating. How fucking dare he show up to my restaurant? As if there weren’t other places he could've eaten at." Leia paced around her best friend, Whitney’s closet.

After hearing about the shit show Javier pulled on Leia through Urban, her boyfriend, Whitney invited Leia to go out for the night with some friends. But Leia was in no mood to go out. She knew at her fragile state she would either hook up with someone she would regret instantly or call Javier to take her back. But Whitney managed to convince her and now Leia was several outfits deep with her face outlined with bronzer and liquid blush.

She was unsure of her living situation so her safest bet was to stay with her parents until she got her ducks in a row. Leia’s mind was flooded with a million things she needed to do. She first needed to get her things out of the condo she began renting with Javier. She still had a few months left on her lease from the storage unit she was renting out for her things, so she could store her things in there once more while she looked for a new place. She had enough in her savings to put in a down payment for her own place, but Javier convinced her that renting was the safer route before they could buy their own forever home. Leia felt so stupid. She fell for his bullshit lies in just six months. On paper Javier was the perfect man. But the more she thought about him and his qualities he became a piece of shit. At thirty-five he was still renting from a shabby apartment, he hadn’t made partner in the law firm he worked at despite working there for over six years and always prioritized himself and expected for Leia to drop everything to appease him. He thought the restaurant was a bad investment for her parents but he would take his clients there, drive up the bill and pretend to pay for them knowing Leia wouldn’t charge him. Not once in the six months they’ve been together has he done something for her. He always had some excuse to not to and Leia understood and hoped for ‘the next time’ that he promised every time.

"For someone who swears they don't give a fuck about Jack Harlow, you sure bring him up a lot." Whitney teased her.

"I don't. And of course I bring him up every once in a while because he's one of my family's rivals." Leia huffed irritably.

"Your family sells wine and tequila. Jack's family sells bourbon. The only thing in common is that y'alls companies originated in Kentucky. Well except the tequila that was in Mexico, but besides that, you don't have any sort of rivalry. You made that shit up to have an excuse to hate him because you know well that still hating him for what happened in high school is childish." Her friend explained.

Leia knew she was right but she won't admit that. She was hurt that Jack ditched her to be one of the girls that made her life a living hell in high school the day after he took her virginity but she got over it. She made a name for herself outside her parents wine and tequila company with her cooking and accomplished great things. The real reason why she’s so irritated at Jack, but she wouldn't admit it out loud, is that she's embarrassed that he was a witness to what Javier did. She would have rather had the pope sitting there instead of Jack.

“Okay you can vent about him later, get ready so we can leave. I told Ceci that we were going to be there at ten and it's almost eleven.” Whitney said as she matched her clutches to her outfit in front of the mirror.

Leia sighed, already agreeing to go out. She finished blending her makeup and carefully outlined her lips with a red lip liner then swiped some red gloss over them. She carefully folded all the skirt & top sets, dresses, tops and pants she was trying out and went with the sheer two piece she tried on first. She grabbed her phone off the charger and followed Whitney outside.

There was a black SUV waiting for them in front of the apartment building Whitney lived in. They climbed in and within twenty minutes they arrived to the club. Whitney grabbed Leia’s hand and guided her to the VIP area. All their friends cheered and squealed excitedly when they saw Leia.

It had been months since the group had properly hung out. After school they all went their separate ways but they always try to meet up once in the summer and then during the holidays. Leia went around hugging and greeting them.

Once she settled a bottle girl in black catsuit came by and poured them a round of vodka shots. Leia took hers and grimaced. She was not a vodka kind of gal. She mostly drank wine and tequila based cocktails. As the night settled Leia found herself getting flirty with the bottle girl that served them their first round of vodka shots. Next thing she knew, Leia was perched up in the bathroom sink while the bottle girl attacked her neck.

Leia reached up and squeezed her breasts, earning a soft moan from the bottle girl. Leia’s skirt rode up to her hips as she opened her legs wider and dug her heels into the bottle girl’s thighs. The bottle girl reached back and undid the back of Leia’s top. She bent her head down and kissed Leia’s now bare chest.

The door abruptly opened. Leia and the bottle girl untangled themselves. Leia’s eyes met an all too familiar set of blue eyes.

“Harlow.” She greeted Jack nonchalantly.

“Ruiz.” He nodded, quickly glancing down at her bare chest then he looked over to the bottle girl. “Kayleigh you get paid to shove drinks down the patrons’ throats not your tongue. I’m sure this could've waited until after your shift.”

“My apologies Mr. Harlow.” The bottle girl looked down at the ground embarrassed.

“You may go back to work. Tell Clay to assign you a different section for the rest of the night.” He said dismissively.

Kayleigh walked out of the bathroom without another word.

Leia fixed her top and got down the sink to fix her skirt. She leaned over the sink and touched up to lips. It was the second time in less than six hours that Jack caught her doing something embarrassing. Not that kissing a woman was embarrassing, it was more the fact that she was so desperate to feel someone on her that she forgot to do the most logical thing and lock the bathroom door.

“Even a fucking moron would’ve made sure to lock the door.” Jack commented.

“What are you doing here?” She turned and crossed her arms to look at him.

“This is my brother's club and I can come and go as I please.” He said, standing in front of her.

“I meant the bathroom. I'm aware this is Clay's club.” She deadpanned. Not that she was paying attention but he didn't go into the stall to do his business. He sat on the couch while she covered herself up.

“Don’t get in your head that I was purposely cockblocking you. I needed a break from Urban and Whitney dry humping each other. I would've gone outside but it's raining.”

“Please, I hardly think of you.” Leia rolled her eyes.

“Neither do I, if you’re wondering.” He said.

“I wasn't.”

“Right.” Jack smirked.

“Does this,” Leia gestured to him, “get the women turned on?”

“I mean at one point it got you turned on.” He shrugged.

“I was seventeen with low standards. I've evolved.”

“Yeah, to cheaters that take their side chicks to your restaurant. What an upgrade.” he answered sarcastically. The words slipped out before he realized. “That was too–”

“Fuck you, you fucking asshole.” Leia cut him off.

Jack caught her wrist before it met his cheek. He looked down at her. Her chest huffed angrily. Her lips were still puffy and swollen from the makeout session with Kayleigh. He did the most logical thing and kissed her. He wasn't sure why but it felt right.

It took Leia a second to process what was going on but once she did, she kissed him with full force. Jack picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the door. He pressed his hips against hers and locked the door.

“See that wasn't so hard.” He smirked.

“Shut up.” Leia mumbled against his lips.

Jack carried her back to the couch. They continued their makeout session. Jack's hands wandered down to her ass and he gripped her ass, holding her in place as he grinded himself onto her. Knowing he was going to bust if he kept at it, Jack dropped to his knees.

He slowly dragged Leia’s panties down and pushed her skirt up to her waist then opened her legs to him. He placed her legs on shoulders and he teased her with his fingers.

“If you're just going to poke around, save us both the embarrassment and let me go find the bottle girl so I can get off properly.” Leia said, trying her best to mask how needy she was for his mouth.

“I forgot that patience is not your virtue.” Jack chuckled. He slipped his ring and middle fingers in her, earning a moan from her. “See what happens when you wait.”

“You're annoy–” Leia was cut off by her own moans.

Jack smirked and wiggled his tongue on her clit. He took his time with her. Leia's desperate moans and whimpers egged him on. Jack nearly came undone with how tight she gripped his curls, keeping his head in place as she grinded her hips against his face.

After a while Jack sat up and pushed her legs to her chest, so she was more exposed to him. With one hand, he pushed up her top, exposing her breasts. He roughly squeezed them as he continued to eat her out. His nose pressed on her clit, making her a moaning mess. With his fingers still fucking her at an agonizing slow pace, he sat Leia up and brought her mouth to his. Jack's beard was dampened by her arousal, a few drops fell onto her neck, rolling down to her chest.

She whimpered and reached down to his wrist. “I'm close…shit!”

With that the intensity she felt disappeared. Leia had Jack's name on the tip of her tongue. She almost came undone on his hand.

“What the fuck?!” She frowned.

“What?” Jack asked, adjusting his pants to hide the tent in them.

“You didn't get me off?”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Because when I do, I want you naked under me in my bed begging me to get you to come. You're going to be so desperate that you'll even beg to choke on my dick after. Okay?” He asked, holding up her panties.

Leia snatched them from him and pulled them on. “There's no way in hell I'm leaving with you and begging to have your dick in my mouth.”

Jack gripped Leia’s hair and watched as his length disappeared in her mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned against his seat. Leia had left with him. Jack excused himself, making some excuse about having meetings. Five minutes later Leia said her Uber was waiting for her. The drive to Jack's place was relaxed. Their sexual tension oozed out of every pore they had, but it wasn’t until they entered Jack's neighborhood that Leia got handsy.

She kissed his neck while one of her hands dropped to his crotch. She sucked on his neck as she palmed his erect length. She undid his pants and stroked him until they got in his driveway. The second Jack turned off the ignition, Leia's tongue was licking the tip of his cock. She let out determined moans and choked out sounds the further she took him down her throat.

One of his hands gripped the back of her head, keeping her in place as he thrusted into her mouth. Leia let out soft moans. Her hands gripped his legs, nails digging into his thighs, keeping her from losing balance. Minutes later he spilled in her mouth. She had pushed his hands off of her as she continued to stroke him as he came, taking all of his release. Leia swallowed every drop and licked her hand clean.

Jack reached for the glove box and took out a small pack of wet wipes. “Here.” He passed it to her.

“Thanks.” She said cleaning her hands.

Jack took out some Kleenex and cleaned himself. He grabbed a wet wipe and wiped his hands off. He looked over to Leia and saw her looking out the window.

“If you don't want to hook up, we don't have to. I can take you home or wherever you're staying.” Jack said, making her look over to him.

“I was just thinking how crazy this night has been. If I hadn't caught my boyfriend– I mean ex, cheating. I probably would've gone home to him and gotten some mediocre sex and hopefully an orgasm. But instead I'm sitting in your car about to have sex with you.” She said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Unlike your ex I'll give you all the orgasms you deserve.” He smirked.

“Well you did leave me hanging in the bathroom. So we'll see.” Leia shrugged.

Jack chuckled and leaned over the center console of his car. He gently grabbed her face. He claimed her lips and his hand dropped to her breasts. He slipped his hand inside her top and ran his thumb over her pert nipples while he deepened their kiss. Leia climbed over to his lap and held onto his face as she moved her hips against his.

“Condom?” Leia asked after she pulled away to kiss his neck.

“I have some inside.” He managed to say before moaning when Leia nipped his neck.

“We should get inside.” She murmured against his lips.

“We should.” Jack agreed before kissing her.

They made out in his car for another fifteen minutes. The December cold got them out of the car. They barely made it to his front door before Leia was using Jack's thigh for sort of relief while he got the door unlocked. Jack pried her off his thigh and guided her inside. He slipped off his coat and hung by its collar on the coat rack.

The pitter patter of paws came down the hall. Jack cursed. He thought he put LouLou in her crate before leaving. He prayed to every higher power that she didn’t use the hardwood floors as her toilet.

“And who's this cutie?” Leia crouched down to pet LouLou.

The puppy gave in and shoved her whole face into Leia’s hand. Leia scratched the back of her ears and rubbed her face with her thumbs like she does with Canela. Her pitbull mix. Canela lived in her parents’ rancho. She originally lived with Leia but when she moved in with Javier, Canela went with her parents because the apartment didn't allow large pets.

“That's Louise, but we call her LouLou.” Jack said.

“We?” she asked curiously.

She shouldn't be surprised at the possibility of Jack having a roster. In the last few years he grew into the confidence he had when they were in high school. She won't admit it outloud but he got even better looking. The beard suited him a lot.

“My family. My mom adopted her but she kept wanting to fight her neighbor's rottweiler every time they went on their walks with their other dog.” he said. “Do you mind if I take her out in the yard real quick?”

“No, do what you need to do.” She said.

“Help yourself to water or whatever in the kitchen.”

Jack turned on the kitchen lights and Leia nearly came at the sight. It was her dream kitchen. It was rustic farmhouse style. The stove was backed up on a brick wall with a double oven that matched the stove. The countertops and kitchen island were made out of light brown quartz and the cabinets were cornflower blue. The kitchen was modern but had a homey vibe.

Leia hopped on the kitchen island and closed her eyes, imagining all the meals and dishes she would make if she had this kitchen. The one at her condo was small and there was much space for her things. It didn’t help that Javier used the kitchen island as a work area because the spare room in their condo was converted into a home gym. In addition to the small space, Leia couldn't experiment in the kitchen because of the lack of equipment. There would be times where she would spend the night in her restaurant cooking new ideas. Or she'd leave early in the morning when she felt inspired.

“All set.” Jack said, walking in the kitchen.

He locked the sliding door and made his way to the fridge. He noticed Leia didn't get anything to drink so he took a few water bottles. At the rate they were going at it they were going to need them.

“Ready?” He asked, kissing her shoulder. Her coat had fallen off her shoulders.

“Yeah.” she nodded.

Jack took her hand and tugged her down the kitchen island. He pulled her along, up the stairs all the way down the hall. He opened the door and motioned her inside. He didn't waste another second without having her mouth on his. The only time he broke their kiss was to take off his knitted sweater and the black undershirt.

Leia did the same with hers and also took off her skirt, standing in only her panties. She let out a soft ‘oof’ when Jack tossed her on the bed. She moved towards the middle and leaned against the pillows. Jack kicked off his sneakers and pants off to the side, climbing on top of her.

He didn’t kiss her right away. He zoned in on her chest. He licked her nipples and tugged at them with teeth, leaving her a moaning mess as he made his way down her body. Jack slowly pulled off her panties, tossing them to their pile of clothes. He pushed himself up and rolled onto his side to grab a new box of condoms. He pulled off one from the sleeve and offered it to Leia.

“Care to do the honors?” He asked.

“Always making me do all the work like in Mr. Sánchez’s AP econ class.” She grumbled, taking the condom.

“I was starting to miss that bratty attitude but you know when to bring it back.” He scoffed, taking the condom from her. He got off the bed. “On all fours.”

“Wait, what?” She asked while complying.

Jack brought her closer to the edge of the bed.

“You were bitching about having to do all the work.” He began. He slipped his hand in between her thighs and rubbed some of her arousal on his cock. He slid the condom on and lined himself up behind her. Leia whimpered, moving her ass against his length. Without a warning he slammed his hips into her. “Now you don't have to.”

Leia gasped. She dug her nails into the comforter. She was not expecting to feel so full. She was aware of his size from having half of his dick in her mouth earlier, but she was visualizing something different for when he was inside of her.

Javier was long but he wasn't as thick as Jack so whenever he was inside of her it felt off. The first few times they were together he'd make back handed comments that she was too loose because of the amount of past partners she had and the sex toys she used. After that he kept comments to himself and pouted when she had to get off with her fingers or vibrator. Plus, she hadn't had sex in weeks so anything more than middle and ring fingers was too much for her.

“Good?” Jack asked, gently rubbing her ass.

“Yeah, it's been a minute.” She said.

“If it's too much let me know.” He said.

“What? You think I can't handle you? Please, you're not all–”

She yelped when Jack's hand struck her ass and he thrusted into her at the same time.

“I don't want to hear another peep from you unless it's to beg that I make you come.”

Jack tilted her head up so he could kiss her. His lips and tongue went at the pace he thrusted in and out of her. He wrapped one of her legs around him, bringing them closer as he took her. Her breath hitched at how good it felt. Jack must have noticed, and continued thrusting in that spot. The familiar feeling came over her once more. Leia was about to come, and Jack was well aware of it. His thrusts got more precise, hitting where she needed him. He just needed her to say at least ‘please’.

And he hoped that it was happening soon because he needed to come too. He thought she'd give in when he was fucking her from behind, but she didn’t. He almost got her off, but at the last second he pulled out of her. Leia let out a few explicit words. Jack ate her out once more, even then she didn't beg. Now he had her under him, chest to chest.

“Please, Jack.”

It was almost inaudible. Her voice was scratchy and exhausted. Like it was Leia’s final plea.

“Please what, Lei?” he asked her.

“Make me come.” She groaned. “Please.”

That was all Jack needed to hear. He motioned her to lift her hips, she obliged. He slipped the pillow under her back, so Leia's hips were elevated and he wouldn't put any weight on her. With that he continued where he left off. He wrapped one of her legs around him, bringing them closer as he took her. Since he was still kneeling, he reached forward and used one of Leia's shoulders to anchor himself as he sped up.

“C’mon, Leia, let me hear how you come undone on my dick.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. He softly kissed her temple and said, “You've been taking me so well. Come for me, Leia.”

The tenderness in his voice pushed her over the edge, and she repeated Jack’s name over and over until her high faded. Jack continued thrusting in and out of her. His thrusts grew sloppy. After a few minutes passed, he stilled his movements quietly moaning out her name as he came. He pulled the pillow from under her and rolled on his back.

Leia didn't waste another second. She shot out of bed and went to the bathroom. She inspected herself in front of the mirror. She looked thoroughly fucked. Her body was covered in hickies. Her hips still had Jack's hand prints from where he was holding her when he fucked her from behind.

“Leia?” Jack called for her from the other side.

She went to open the door and found him in a fresh pair of boxer-briefs. She crossed her arms and averted her eyes from how low they say on his hips. “Yeah?”

“The rain picked up again. You're gonna have to spend the night.” He said.

“I can just Uber. I'll be fine.” She pushed past him to get her clothes.

There was a clap of thunder followed by flashes of lighting. She hated thunder. When she lived in Acapulco she endured various thunderstorms and even a hurricane. She couldn't sleep because she'd get startled and think someone was trying to break in.

“You can take one of the guest rooms. I'll drive you home in the morning.” Jack offered.

“Okay, but only because Ubers charge more when it rains.” She said.

Jack nodded. He went into his walk in closet and got her a t-shirt and a pair of compression pants that he ordered online but came in a smaller size than the one he wore.

“Here.” He handed them to her and guided her to the guest room next to his. “There should be a toothbrush and toothpaste under the sink.”

Another clap of thunder filled the bedroom. It was louder than the one before, making Leia curse from being startled. That was when Jack remembered how she would always ask to sleep in his bed when their old friend group would go out in the woods.

He approached the bed and lifted the comforter. “There's no sheets on the bed.” There were. But Jack knew Leia wouldn’t straight up ask him if she could sleep with him. “It would be just easier if you slept in my room.”

Leia nodded in agreement. “Yeah whatever you think is best.”

They retreated to Jack's room. Leai got dressed and brushed her teeth then settled in Jack's bed. While he was in the bathroom, she set up a pillow division between them and rolled onto her side, facing away from Jack. Moments later she heard him toss the pillows on the floor and got in bed.

Leia was too exhausted to tell him to put them back and closed her eyes. They were mature adults; sharing a bed for one night wouldn’t kill them. They knew how to keep their hands to themselves.

The following morning, Leia couldn't breathe. It was like she was being held down. She opened her eyes and saw Jack's arm around her with his face nuzzled in her neck through the closet door mirror. To make matters worse, his dick was digging into her ass, reminding her of how her face was buried in a pillow as Jack ravished her. She pushed her ass back, testing the waters. She was about to do it again, Jack stopped her by holding her hips.

“Don't.” he murmured in her ear.

He rolled on to his back and stretched, pushing the comforter off them. His cock strained against his boxer-briefs, begging Leia to take him in her mouth.

“Need help taking care of that?” She asked.

“I'm not gonna stop you if you want.” He held his hands up in surrender.

Leia pushed her hair back and climbed on top of Jack. She kissed his lips and slowly made her way down his body until she reached his boxers. She kept her brown eyes on Jack's blue ones as she took his cock out and slowly stroked him. Her mouth practically watered at it. She sucked his tip and licked his sides.

Miriam’s eyes never left Jack’s as she took him back in her mouth. His stomach began to contract after a few bobs, letting her know that he was close. Slowly, she pulled him out of her mouth until only his tip rested on her tongue. She widened her eyes, making her look more innocent as she stroked him.

Unbeknownst to them, someone entered Jack's home. They dropped off the food they brought in the kitchen and made their way upstairs to his room. Without knocking they entered his room.

“Jack, baby, I know I said I was going to come in the afternoon but– oh!”

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @cherry4everrr @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @whywontyoulovemecami @camificrecs @itsyagirljaz @w1ldthoughts @vanwritesfan-fiction @xxkoolkatxx

#jack harlow #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow oneshot #jack harlow x oc

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pippytmi · 1 year

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For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?”

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint.

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

#prompt was: 'aw that sounded a lot like you like me / im just a good actor'#i rewrote this a million times and finally settled on a childhood friends + celebrity au :)#supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #i miss these two dramatic ''besties'' who just wanna kiss each other on the mouth #lyssa #as always ty for the prompt !! <3

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forbidden-sunlight · 8 months

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yandere!dark schneider with shinobu!reader headcanons

Warnings: obsessive behavior, isekai!au, manga spoilers, dubious consent, aged up!reader (reader is in early twenties), Lucien and Yoko are 17-18 years old, violence, and blood.

There may also be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

Hey guys, welcome to these headcanons, featuring the handsome, arrogant wizard Dark Schneider of the Netflix's anime series Bastard!! Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy and the character!reader who is Shinobi Kocho from the beloved world of Demon Slayer aka Kimetsu no Yaiba! :)

Special thanks to @anniespostssworld for helping me bounce back ideas and scenarios that would work best for these headcanons, so this dedicated to them and to all of the other fellow Bastard!! fans.

If you haven't seen either of these shows, I highly recommend them as to me, they are well worth watching and give me a good laugh after a particularly long day at work. Please bear in mind that Bastard!! might not be suited for everyone and does have some moments that may not be ideal for photosensitive viewers.

If you would like to see a fluffier version of these headcanons, I will leave a link to them here.

If you'd like me to write more for the Bastard!! world just let me know in a comment or message.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into this world of heavy metal rock, magic, and utter mayhem :)

Although you will never get used to being dressed up like this, the dark leathers that were strapped across your body protected you from the chilly morning air.

Draped in colors ranging from chocolate brown to soft tan, your legs were covered by dark pants and knee-high buckled boots. The upper half of this outfit consisted of a double-layered tunic that was lighter shade than the top layer, an onyx-dyed vest, with an iron breastplate. The sleeves were usually pushed up to your elbows, keeping your hands free to work uninhibitedly, though when working with herbs or chemicals, your fingers would be protected by a pair of dark gloves. Pinned to the back of your head was a butterfly-shaped barrette. Hanging around your neck was a frayed reminder of the life you once had; the tattered remains of your sister’s white butterfly patterned haori, that still carried the scent of wisteria and the longing to be wrapped up in Kanae’s arms just one more time.

It was hard to believe today marked the five-year anniversary since your arrival in the kingdom of Meta-llicana. Here in this world, you were not the Insect Hashira who had died in battle against Douma but an apothecary who worked under the royal family. You navigated through the intricate spider-web of the aristocracy and politics who stared at you in contempt or envy for being a ‘self made commoner’ with a polite smile and wave of your hand. When there was silence in the castle, you read yellowed scrolls and brittle-paged texts alike over candlelight, trying to expand on your pharmaceutical knowledge in this world with what you currently knew as the primary healer of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Those nerves of steel were exceptionally helpful when a plague swept over this country from the West and you were arguing with stubborn medical practitioners who believed they were more knowledgeable and experienced than you were to handle the situation simply because of your age and gender.

Ah, it took a lot of self control to refrain yourself from snapping their necks and hiding their bodies~.

And all of these events occurred within just two years. My, my!

Between attending to patients and self-studying, you found a blacksmith in town who was willing to take a look at your broken ninichirin blade. Although the pieces were kept together inside a lacquered box that would cost a years’ salary for a farmer, the places you had gone to previously were either booked for the next several months, or did not want to do business with an outsider. He took one look at it and asked you to give him five gold coins, and he’ll fix it in one week. An expensive fee, but you did not see the harm in giving him a chance; after all, he was willingly to give you a chance, so that must mean something in this world, did it not?

Within the promised time frame, not only had he repaired your sword by melting magic stones mined from the nearby mountains and forging it into the existing blade but he had also thrown in a scabbard made from shimmering red dragon scales; light as a feather, but extremely durable and fireproof. That was how you made your fourth acquaintance in this world.

The first three were High Priest Geo and his two children, Yoko and Lucien, who had found you wandering the outskirts of the kingdom and nursed you back to health.

If Meta-llicana were to fall into the clutches of the Dark Rebel Army, you could put your life on the line to protect them. Although….was it odd that an eighteen-year-old young man like Lucien Renlen was much shorter than you, or how he still came to the palace before dawn arrived just to help you collect herbs in the forest behind the palace, a sacred area that was only accessible to very few people outside of the royal family?

Yoko kept teasing you that he finally had a crush on a pretty girl who worked in the palace, but you weren’t amused. You might still be considered much younger than twenty-three because you were still shorter than most of the tall, regal ladies in the palace, Lucien should seek out other girls than the ones he only socializes with. However, you weren’t his caretaker and had no control over his life as Yoko seemingly had as his surrogate sister and a temporary guardian when her father was away from the country.

‘[First Name]!”

Blinking, you looked away from the basket of herbs by your feet and glanced over your shoulder to see Lucien running towards you, red-faced and smiling….holding a fistful of poison ivy instead of the lily of the valley that you asked him to look for since the flowers on your desk were starting to dry up.

You never would have realized that this simple, innocent boy whom you adored was the reincarnation of humanity’s most evil wizard: Dark Schneider.

The dark sorcerer Osborn attacked Meta-llicana with an army of hobgoblins, werewolves, ogres, and many other monsters. His objective was to remove the kingdom’s sacred magic that sealed away the power of the demon god Anthrasax, no matter the cost. But you nor the knights who were the last line of the castle’s defense would allow such an evil to be reawakened again.

It had been a good thing that you resumed training in secret as soon as your sword had been fixed. Let others think that the blade strapped to your hip was just for show. After all, there is no better opportunity to reveal your skills than a smoky battlefield~.

To your mild surprise Bon Jovia, the captain of the knights, did not reprimand nor mock you as you landed gracefully on the blood-soaked ground, incapacitating a frothing werewolf with the Butterfly Dance: Caprice, Illusionary Light. Instead, he thanked you for saving him and his men before pleading for your assistance with keeping the oncoming hordes from getting on the drawbridge. You smiled, saying you were more than happy to oblige…just be aware that you might cause just a little bit of damage to the castle if things get a little tough.

He nodded and barked orders at the men under his command to cover any incoming attacks aimed at you so that you could focus on the bigger, more powerful monsters. Between their formations and Insect Breathing, the creatures did not get on the drawbridge…and yet that son of bitch Osborn managed to get inside the castle through a secret entrance that only the royal family and the priests knew about.

You felt an ache in the back of your throat. Yoko and Lucien were in the castle, hiding from the madness and now these bastards were coming for them and Princess Sheila. Cursing under your breath, you darted down the flight of underground stairs, brandishing your sword and ignoring the shouting from behind. But as you continued to veer from left to right, following only your instinct and the light of the torches wedged into the stone walls, you heard footsteps behind you. Ara, ara, It seems like you weren’t going into the fight alone, after all.

One of the knights that was certainly not the captain eventually caught up with you and took the lead, guiding you and the others straight to the statue of the fertility goddess beneath the chapel. But just when the knight carefully and slowly pushed it to the right, there was a sudden scream. He wanted to close it in case there was an enemy close by, but you were not allowing that to happen. Instead, you persuaded him to move the statue just enough to see what was going on.

And as it turned out, staying hidden was the best choice; because instead of the royal family, or your precious friends being killed by demons, the demons were being slaughtered by a very powerful, and a very naked man with white hair screaming odd words in an extremely loud voice.

Damned!

Shumega…megadeath

Sodom!

Your eyes widened in shock as torrents of hellfire and lightning erupted from the man’s palms, eliminating the ogres and other demons in a single blow. Although he destroyed them…that bastard had the nerve to eliminate Osborn with a Venom spell, roasting the son of a bitch when you wanted to make him suffer with a vial of an experimental poison hidden in your pocket.

The knight bursted to the surface when the threat had been eliminated, his comrades following close behind to check on the priests and the royal family. You immediately went to Yoko’s side, pulling her to you and pointing your sword at the mysterious man possessing bushy brows and sharp blue irises who couldn’t keep his hands off of your friend. You smiled at him.

“Ara, ara, you’re quite familiar with Yoko…but I must ask that you refrain yourself from being too familiar with her, unless,” You lowered your blade to his balls. “You’d like for me to permanently remove a part of your anatomy?”

The man stared at you with fear and arousal dancing in those wild blue irises, his hands instinctively covering his precious cargo. Yoko tugged on the frayed edges of your haori.

“D-Don’t do that, [First Name]! That’s Lucien! Dark Schneider is Lucien!”

You blinked in shock, the smile on your face slowly falling away as you absorbed Yoko’s words. Lucien, the sweet young man….Lucien Renlen was the second identity of the dark wizard, Dark Schneider? There were two identities sharing the same body? What?!

This….this was too much. Crocodile tears threatened to prick the corner of your eyes. How in heaven’s name did this even happen? Why does such a cliche troupe always occur in shounen manga? Wait, why are you thinking like this?! You thought, reluctantly sheathing your blade back into its inky scabbard at your hip.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, Yoko noticed Dark Schneider leaving the chapel and went after him.

You wanted to follow her…but there were people here who needed medical attention, whether you liked it or not. Your oath to help those in need kept you from protecting your friend from a potentially dangerous bastard. You just prayed Yoko knew what she was doing. You knew she was strong…but did she have enough magic to protect herself from a capricious man like Dark Schneider? You shook your head, and began tending to one of knights who had been in here protecting the others.

As it turned out, she didn’t need much protection from Dark Schneider because she had returned less than an hour later to the chapel with Lucien draped in armor and dark clothes twice in size, staring at you in confusion and happiness.

Yoko’s abbreviated version of events went something like this: To release Dark Scneider, a virgin maiden’s kiss and the recital of a spell called Accept were the requirements. Yoko fulfilled at the behest of the priests, even when three of them had been the ones to leak the blueprints of the castle to Osborn in exchange for their loyalty to the Dark Rebel Army so long as they were spared from the slaughter. But they were the ones that Osborn killed first before he ordered his ogres to attack Princess Sheila and her father, the king of Meta-llicana.

Dark Schneider got rid of them because he owed a debt to Yoko, tried to leave so he could begin his plans for world domination, but when he gave her a farewell kiss, the dark wizard ended up being sealed up inside Lucien again.

Well…not what you were expecting, but you were glad that she and Lucien had come back to Meta-llicana unscathed. You had hoped that this would be the first and only time you would cross paths with Dark Schneider.

Unfortunately, not even a month after Osborn’s assault, another general from the Dark Rebel Army came barrelling through the kingdom with a five-headed hydra. And this time, Yoko did not want to relieve the embarrassment of watching everyone kiss her adopted little brother again. Nor did she want to release Dark Schneider in fear that he would try to kill her father now that he had returned home from his journey in another land.

Geo had been the one who sealed Dark Schneider inside Lucien as soon as he was reborn, when the war fifteen years ago ended with the wizard’s loss against the deceased crown prince and the older brother of Princess Sheila, Lars Ul Meta-llicana.

The High Priest scoffed. “It’s a kiss. Stop overreacting.”

“Are you really gonna talk to your own daughter that way?!” Yoko shrieked in the king’s audience chamber as the priests began to panic at the thought that their city, their Meta-llicana, will truly fall into the hands of the Dark Rebel Army unless Dark Schneider was reawakened. You frowned slightly. Geo did raise a valid point in his spiel about the demon god and the Hydra Wizards were, according to some reading you had done on them after the Osborne incident, able to adapt to spells unique to monsters and their summoners. And if you were honest with yourself, which you were….you doubted that you could rally some troops again to help combat this fiend.

The Hydra is infamous not only for having multiple heads and being able to breathe fire. Its scales were just as durable as a dragon’s, which means that your blade could very well break before it could slice through an artery.

You smiled through the unease piling up in the back of your throat when you raised your hand. “I’ll do it.” You said. “I’ll perform the ceremony in Yoko’s place. You just need a virgin who knows white magic, yes? I can do some, if only to accelerate healing and create small barriers.” It was true. You had learned a little magic since coming to this world, but you preferred not to use it that often because overexertion can take a toll on the human body. You honestly did not think you could even do such a feat until you unintentionally used it to heal a scrape on Lucien’s knee a year ago.

Geo blinked, brows furrowing. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Mm. It is as you say, a kiss is just a kiss…with the exception of Princess Sheila’s case. If she were to perform the spell instead, then it would be seen as a sign that she takes Lucien as a husband. A kiss in the royal family cannot be given out unless it is in the sacred name of marriage. Or am I wrong, High Priest?”

He shook his head. “You are correct. And we cannot waste time with honor nor matters of purity when the enemy is closing in. Follow my instructions, and we will awaken Dark Schneider.”

You bowed your head. “As you wish.”

Yoko tried to protest, saying it wasn’t right for you to take on this burden when she is a high priestess-in-training and more qualified to do the Accept spell, but you shook your head.

“Ara, ara, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a kiss. If that is the price to save this kingdom and to protect your honor, then I will do so. Everything will be alright.” You smiled. “Trust me, Yoko.”

You then knelt in front of Lucien, smiling still as you asked him to come sit with you on the carpeted floor. The boy, bless him, followed your instructions without question and blinked, glancing back at Yoko for a brief moment before he refocusing his attention onto you. You reached forward and placed your palm over his own, which rested on his right knee. “Don’t worry, Lucien. Just relax and close your eyes for me, okay?”

He nodded, his face flushing slightly as he followed your request. Geo stood behind you, reciting the words slowly as you leaned forward, cupping Lucien’s cheek with your other hand.

“Accept this. In the name of Ino Mata, our beloved goddess of beauty, let this seal be broken.”

With the last syllable spoken, you gently pressed your mouth against the vessel of Dark Schneider’s.

A torrent of white lightning and black-blue miasma suddenly surrounded Lucien. The seal was broken. The bastard was waking up again to be used as a shield against the enemies of Meta-llicana's ….even when no one has the right to control a living thing, animal or person.

But when you pulled away, scrambling to put some distance between yourself and the wizard as the transformation began, you were tugged back towards him, your mouth colliding against his again. Fangs and tongue ran along your lips, begging to explore it. You tried to get away, yet your feeble strength did nothing to save you when Dark Schneider bit your bottom lip hard enough to draw droplets of blood and a pained gasp.

This single moment granted the bastard an opportunity to kiss you senseless, making it last as possible before he pulled away. A string of saliva had been created from this unholy union, the only evidence that the kiss even happened. However, Dark Schneider swallowed its remains in a single gulp, and swiped his rancid tongue over your mouth one more, cleaning up the mess he made as he grinned down at you.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.” He purred.

You wanted to punch this son of a bitch. You wanted to cut off his testicles and stuff them in a jar so that he could never reproduce. You wanted him gone, and your Lucien back. Yet why is it…that when this bastard gazes at you, there is an urge to run away and never look back?

That is because from this very moment, you are all that Dark Schneider will want and ever need in the world. When you kissed him, you made him realize as both Lucien Renlen and Dark Schneider that you were the one he really loves, not Yoko. The Great Priest’s daughter might have treated him well over these past fifteen years, but Yoko did not treat his wounds or sneak candy into his pocket with a secretive smile. No matter how much he complained, you were there. You were always there for him.

Now, he will never let you out of his sight. He will cherish and treat you with the respect you had deserved for all you had done for this kingdom, to these ungrateful assholes. And once he has conquered the world, he will make you his queen and the bearer of his children.

No matter where you go or where you try to hide, he will always find you.

Taglist:

@cassanderasblog

@anniespostssworld

@currentlyinhell

@xoxo-shy

@denisered252

@justamegafan

@mitra555

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writingseaslugs · 10 months

Text

Scarabia: When They're Sick

Ugh so this one was kind of low key fun to write. I normally have a harder time writing for Scarabia, but thanks to a friend who ships their OC with Kalim it's been a lot more fun writing for him. Honestly all I need are friends who ship their characters with others so I can imagine their OC with said character and we're good to go. Anyway, enough with the rambles, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Scarabia: When They’re Sick

The Scalding Sands and Night Raven College couldn't be more different in terms of climate and plant life. While Scarabia’s dorm was a safe haven, the members still had to go to classes. Hayfever wasn’t an uncommon thing for the dorm members who came from the Scalding Sands to experience. The bad news about hayfever is that if you don’t properly take care of it, it isn’t uncommon for it to progressively get worse until you actually are sick. Sadly a few members had to learn this the hard way.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is the last person to know that he’s sick, in all honesty. He can feel that he’s slowing down when he’s getting ill, but doesn’t think anything of it. He just assumes it’s nothing but allergies until he’s suddenly running a high fever and is put on bed rest by Jamil. Even while sick though, he’s still trying to get up and do things. He cannot sit still for long, so waiting in his room until he’s magically feeling better is a nightmare process for him.

The moment you offer to help him out, he’s thanking you and is over the top in gratuity. He might be five seconds from fainting due to the fever, but that won’t stop him from trying to hug you. Jamil is going to have to assist in carrying him back to his bed. The only reason you’re even allowed to help out is because Jamil knows that Kalim will listen to you if you tell him he needs to stay in bed. Kalim listens to Jamil sometimes, but when it comes to you, he becomes an obedient puppy who’s ready to please. You tell him to sit in his bed and rest and he will, as long as you promise not to leave.

Be prepared to have a very pouty boy on your hands the moment you tell him it’s time to take medicine. He doesn’t like the way it coats his mouth and leaves an aftertaste, so he’s not a fan. Of course he’ll take it if you ask him to, but he’s going to be staring at you with big eyes pleading for you to say “Never mind.” Don’t let him fool you, be stern and he’ll take it. He will be making grabby hands for some water after though, so make sure you have it on hand.

Let’s be real, Jamil is making all the meals no matter what. The boy could be on death’s door and he’d still make Kalim something to eat. So really meal times are just you sitting on the bed with Kalim with a large assortment of hand selected meals to help Kalim feel better, and Kalim telling you to open wide so he can feed you some. You’ll need to remind him that the food is for him and not you, but he swears up and down Jamil made so much that you guys can share. Just don’t use the same spoon as him if you don’t want to end up in his position.

Kalim recovers pretty fast from illnesses, so give him two days and he’s jumping off the walls again, ready to do anything. He’s going to be wanting to throw a party since he’s been so bored the past few days, and wants to dedicate it to you. Either turn him down nicely and insist perhaps after a while and he’s fully recovered you can, or just go with it. You might be needing to write an apology letter to Jamil for the party that will inevitably happen. Poor man just finished nursing Kalim to health alongside you, and is now being thrusted into making and hosting a party.

Jamil Viper

Jamil refuses to acknowledge that he’s sick and will try and pretend like he isn’t. He will have to be on the verge of collapsing in order for him to decide perhaps he does need to take a break. Even then, the stress of not being there for Kalim is going to make recovery a lot harder. He needs to relax, yet all he can do is stress himself out about Kalim possibly getting poisoned while he’s sick, and then news getting back to his family back home.

Jamil won’t be asking for help at all, so you’ll have to kind of force him to let you help out. He is grateful, of course, but he’s not used to being on the receiving end of this kind of transaction. He’ll still be trying to do everything himself and you’ll need to remind him several times that the only job he has right now is getting better. He trusts you though and will be able to rest easy after you assure him that you can help take care of Kalim and make sure the boy doesn’t somehow kill himself in the few days it takes for him to recover.

Jamil will take any medicine without complaint. He knows it’s needed to feel better, and anything that helps speed up the process is needed. The only thing is he’ll be a bit feverish and not remember what times he needs to take what, so that’s where you come in. You’ll basically be waking him up from his sleep with either pills and some water, or a small cup of liquid medication for him to take. This is all he really needs and he’s so thankful to have you keeping track for him.

He’s used to eating whatever he makes, so having someone cook for him is a pleasant change of pace. He honestly prefers simpler dishes when sick since he can’t taste all that well, so some chicken noodle soup is his favorite. Add a few spices if you want, but he probably won’t notice. He might ask you to make it again when he’s better so he can properly have something you make; take this as a huge compliment. He might even get a recipe from you if you make it differently than others in this world.

He’s getting right back to his routine the moment he’s better, but he will be sweeter to you. Giving you kinder smiles and a small thank you as well. He might even invite you over to have dinner with him sometime so he can take care of you for the evening as a thank you. He isn’t used to someone outside of his family really giving a damn when he’s sick. Sure Kalim tries, but there’s no way that Jamil could ask Kalim to take care of him, even if the boy really wants to.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Kalim Al-Asim #Kalim Al-Asim x Reader #Kalim x Reader #Jamil Viper #Jamil Viper x Reader #Jamil x Reader

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love-toxin · 2 years

Text

burn me down to ashes - steve harrington & billy hargrove

volume II

plot: shy, socially awkward little you, the resident nobody of Hawkins High, is caught between a rock and a hard place in the span of a day. the rock being Steve Harrington, the guy you've had a crush on forever and who just might like you back, and the hard place being Billy Hargrove--the guy who just can't seem to keep his eyes, or hands, off you.

cws: bullied!angelface, angel has low self-esteem/intrusive thoughts, 80s movie references, crushes, smoking, slight violence/roughousing, jealousy, drinking, angel makes friends, nicknames, angsty fluff but it goes up from here, non-canon character appearances, fem reader.

a/n: vol II coming soon! this is a longer fic i cut in half ♡

word count: 5.4k

You've never really thought there was anything wrong with you, at least not until you got into high school. The last four–five, now, since you had to repeat your last year–have been the most hellish years of your life.

You've been knocked around, had your books thrown in the fountain, your locker vandalized, your desk kicked by people walking by…every which way you could be tortured, you have. Even graduation served to be an opportunity for people to get their licks in, one of the girls that tortured you the most sticking her foot out when you went to walk the stage and tripping you in front of the whole school, resulting in a bellowing chorus of mocking laughter that you're certain you'll hear in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

But there's a life you've dreamed of, one you know you would never attain in this lifetime, but you fantasize about nonetheless. One where you're maybe not popular, or even liked, but one where you're at least protected. His name reads out in the scribbles at the margins of your notebook, and the smell of his cologne sticks in your mind and draws your thoughts to him whenever you pass by the scented section of the department store. Your protector, your saviour, at least in your mind–it's none other than Steve Harrington, the most popular guy in school and the one guy you know you would never have a chance with.

For one, he's widely adored–you wouldn't be able to work your way through all his fans if you tried, and most of them are far prettier, smarter, and more popular than you anyways. Two, Steve himself is objectively gorgeous, at least to you, and there's no way he would go for a…for someone like you, someone that looks or sounds or smells like you. Three, you don't even have friends, much less a relationship, so you really would have no idea what you were doing in the first place. Four, you can't even work up the courage to talk to him, or even look in his direction, even though you sat right next to each other all through chem class in your senior year and he asked to borrow your textbook on several occasions. And you now see him at Family Video at least once a week to rent a new movie. That's pretty much the extent of your interactions, and that's where the dream stops and real life slaps you in the face.

But it's on that day that you step into the store and hear excited chattering that you don't realize that might just change, Robin and Steve exchanging words and gestures that look like they're trying to agree on something.

"Welcome to Fa–oh, hey! You're just in time!" Robin waves to you as you walk in, dropping the corporate greeting the second her eyes meet yours. She's always been so nice to you, kind in a way you feel like you don't deserve, but it would be impossible to try and convince her otherwise so you simply go along with whatever she says. You're not really sure how else to be friends…if that's even what you are. Maybe, maybe not. It's a little difficult for you to figure out, even though you desperately want to call Robin your friend. She leans over the counter on her elbows as you walk up, and pats her hands on it as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly excited about something.

"You wanna go to a house party with me? Harrington here is chickening out last minute, and I really don't want to go alone."

"I'm not chickening out! I just don't want to hang out with a bunch of dickheads I knew in high school." Steve huffs, certainly because knowing them they've been arguing about it for a while before you stopped by, and he looks so good today, even though you say the same to yourself every time you see him. His hair is a little crazy from him running his hands through it, but it still looks good, fluffy, like every sway of his locks is intentionally beautiful and not accidental.

"I've never been to a house party before! I want the full, uninterrupted experience." You're not even thinking straight when you're distracted by him, and find your mouth running before you can catch it.

"Me neither, um…it sounds like fun, though. I'll go." You say rather meekly, some part of you wondering perversely if Robin's lips will stretch into a smirk as she reveals that she was just teasing, and how dumb do you have to be to think anyone would actually invite you to a party?

"Really? Sick, I don't feel so alone now!" She does a little victory dance, celebrating her triumph with a few fist pumps and the sound of her shoes clacking against the linoleum behind the counter. Safe. Everything is safe, now, you're sure, and you take a deep breath to try and steady your thumping heart.

"Well…okay, if you're both going, I'll come with you." Steve tightens his arms, still crossed over that broad chest that you've only ever seen in its full glory during those basketball games you've snuck out of class to go watch.

"Wow! Changing your mind on a dime just cause Buttercup is coming–I feel like chopped liver, seriously!" She's joking, but it still flusters you. "Buttercup" is one of the few nicknames they've dubbed you with, on account of how many times you've rented out The Princess Bride since they've started working there. As far as you know you're their most frequent customer, so it's somewhat of a game for them to find movies you haven't seen that you might like–and to be brutally honest, it's about the fullest extent of any friendship you have. "Alright, alright, Stevie, you can come keep us safe. But don't you dare be a buzzkill!"

Robin turns back to you after prodding Steve in the chest, and her eyes are brighter than they were before. Even if the realization of what you just agreed to is only hitting you now, and the anxiety is slowly starting to creep in, the fact that you made her so happy by saying yes is all that's keeping you on your feet right now.

"Just come by after we close and we'll drive you there, okay?" You nod in agreement, and that's when Robin climbs up and slides herself across the counter, dropping down beside you on the other side to wave you over to the rows of shelved movies. "Now, what movie are we going with this week? Romcom, horror?"

You place the VHS on the counter, just as pristine as when you picked it up. The Breakfast Club is always a classic for you, you'd watched it a couple times over the week–you always tend to see yourself in Ally, while you see so much of Steve in Andrew, which might be why you've watched it so many times with your pillow hugged to your chest, your eyes glued to the screen. Somehow, though, the sight of John parading around the library tables always stirs something within you, something that reminds you of someone you know, but can't put your finger on.

Either way, you shake the thought from your head as you follow Robin down the aisles, her steps more of a skip as she saunters towards the newer tapes on the New Release rack. She picks up one after the other and chitters on about each one, which ones she thinks are bogus and which ones are diamonds in the rough–but your gaze keeps drifting back to Steve at the counter, his hips pressed against it as he leans back and steadies himself with those smooth, toned biceps, and fiddles with the tape you dropped off…and you have to force yourself to look away, to not meet his eyes when you feel them turn towards you, and focus back on your friend as your mind runs wild with thoughts about tonight.

When the time comes, it's very clear when you move through the front door that you don't belong here.

Hours after picking up your newest movie-The Neverending Story–you're trailing behind Steve and Robin with a new dress you picked out weeks ago and a bit of makeup smeared awkwardly over your eyes. You've never been sure how to do it, but Robin made a point of commenting on how cute you look when you slid into the backseat of Steve's car, so it at least calmed you down a little bit before you got there.

Bodies are packed in everywhere, laughing, talking, drinking. Further into the house you spot a living room down the hall, where the music is loudest and people are dancing so close together they almost look like one full unit. People are stumbling to and from each room with solo cups filled with coloured drinks, most of them drunk already–and you find yourself trying to stick close to Robin, except that she and Steve are hurrying down the hall to go talk to someone they know, and beckoning you after them. There's no going back now, especially since you'll have to walk home if you try to leave alone. And after what happened last time you did so, you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and start putting one foot in front of the other.

You move stiffly down the hallway they had weaved through, people leaning against the walls and moving in groups with their friends to get more drinks or migrate towards the dancing area. Alone, you feel like too many unfamiliar eyes are drawn towards you, you know you must stick out like a sore thumb–but there's one face you recognize, and it immediately makes you regret ever choosing this hallway to work your way down.

Billy Hargrove leans against the wall by his arm, jacket open to reveal a white wifebeater and a packed chest that must be an absolute nightmare to face in a fight, many of which you know he's been in. He's got such a reputation, despite not being in Hawkins for too long, and he was even present at the infamous Starcourt Mall fire–that in itself is evident by the burn scars you can see peeking out from the sides of his leather jacket. Some girl is flirting with him, or trying to, because he looks like he's not paying much attention. You don't even realize it's the girl that tripped you at graduation until you get close enough to sidle past them, but that's unfortunately close enough for Billy to lock eyes with you and stand up off the wall.

"Hey, pretty girl. I don't think we've been introduced." He turns completely towards you, fully engaged, and holds out a hand to you with half-lidded eyes. Thinking about it for more than a few seconds, which is about how long it takes for you to realize that he's actually talking to you, the thought that he must be drunk crosses your mind and your shoulders tense a little bit. He frightens you, and you know he has a temper even at the best of times–you don't even want to know what he might say or do if you piss him off. So you shut your mouth and tremble as you place your hand delicately into his, hoping nothing terrible comes out of the conversation, especially when the girl's eyes are burning a glare into you. Vanessa, you're sure her name is, even though you've tried so hard to forget it. "Billy. You can call me whatever you want, though."

"Hi…uh, I think we've met before." He squeezes your hand, not hard, just an inkling of pressure. The desire to reach out and grab those words to shove them back into your mouth is so strong, but you can't, and your chest tightens so much you might just collapse right then and there. But Billy, on the contrary to what you think he might do, just smiles enough that you can see a glimpse of those pearly teeth past his plush lips.

"I can't believe that," He winks, his thumb rubbing the the heel of your hand before he finally lets it go. Is he…is this what flirting really is? It feels like it's too much like the movies, but you've really got no frame of reference since you have no experience yourself, so you truly have no idea. Including whether he's being facetious or not. "I would've remembered a gorgeous girl like you. Or, more like, I wouldn't have forgotten you. No matter how hard I tried."

Now you're stuck. Dreaded small talk. You can't believe he's doing anything but trying to fuck with you, especially with Vanessa standing right next to both of you, so that's just how you end up thinking about it. But you would be such a liar if you thought his comments didn't raise a heat to your face that must be obvious even under your touch of makeup.

"Um…I, uh…we were…calculus partners.." You're trying to get it all out fast so you can try to catch up to Steve and Robin again, but the words just strangle themselves when they leave your mouth, much like any time you try to speak to someone you're not comfortable with.

"No shit," He breathes. "I do recognize you." He says it in a way that feels more sincere than anything else he's said leading up to this. "You've really changed since then. Really…filled out that figure. Or maybe this is the first time I'm seeing you in clothes like that. You look great."

Billy's eyes roam unapologetically, drinking you in from feet to forehead and every spot in between. It doesn't feel right to be looked at in such a way, it feels perverse–not like how a partner or a love interest would do it, but more like the creepy older men that try to pick you up when you're walking home from work. Even though Billy is far from that, and he's actually a little nicer than you thought he was, it just feels wrong for you to be looked at that way. Because you're not pretty, and you're not special. You're not the type of person that people look at like they want to see you naked, and treasure you while they do so. Not like how Billy's looking at you now, until something seems to strike him that makes him finally pipe up.

"Wasn't that the class that the ginger kid pulled your hair in?" He's right, and it couldn't be more humiliating for him to remember that above all else. Sam Dunner had grabbed your ponytail in third period calculus and yanked it hard, hard enough to sting, and earned himself a cacophony of laughter when you shrieked that you felt, at the time, would be the soundtrack to your entire life. Billy had been out that day, maybe sick, maybe late–but regardless, he hadn't been there to say a word and you had always figured he wouldn't. Up until now, at least, when you nod and mumble a quiet "Yes", and his brow furrows.

"That reminds me, actually." Billy turns to the girl he's been ignoring up until now, her face lighting up when he finally looks down at her. You're surprised she's kept quiet up until now.

"Vanessa, weren't you the one that tripped this nice girl at graduation?" What he says, and the way he says it, renders you completely shocked. You could never imagine talking to someone like her like he just did, because you know she would chew you up and spit you back out for all her friends to laugh at. But evidently Billy is a lot different, because she starts visibly floundering with a stutter when he calls her out right in the open.

"Y-Yeah, so? It was a joke. It was just…in good fun." She recovers quickly if nothing else, and says it with smug venom flicking off her tongue, and you just want to disappear so that she never looks at you with that expression again.

"I think you owe her an apology, actually." He leans into her ear and says it so quietly, almost gently, that your eyes widen as you wonder whether you actually heard that right.

"Are you serious? It was a joke, it's not my fault she got all upset."

"I'm dead fucking serious. Now, why don't you apologize, before I get really pissed off." The tension you feel between them would break a butcher's knife.

"O-Okay! I'm sorry, like…I'm sorry. Jesus." She mutters that last part under her breath.

"That was pathetic, but whatever. Get out of my face." She huffs in frustration but does as he says, pushing past you and knocking shoulders in a way that's definitely intentional–but for you, it's so much of the norm that it doesn't even really faze you. You also don't catch the harsh glare he shoots at the back of her head either, since it disappears as soon as you turn to look at him again and he's pulling out a cigarette from a pack with his teeth.

"You wanna puff, sweetheart?" He reaches into the pocket of his jacket to produce a lighter, but you're quick to shake your head as he cups a hand around the end and lights it up.

"N-No, I have to…get back to my friends. Um, thank you."

"Not a problem, princess. Anyone else gives you problems, you just come to me, mkay?" He winks at you over his burning cigarette, enthused over the way you trip over your words in front of him. You just nod, pseudo-politely, and move to take a step away.

"That's my girl." He breathes out a puff of smoke as he says it, eyes following you until you've moved into the main living room and presumably out of sight. It's a little dizzying when you finally get there, the familiar thumping beat of Love Shack resonating through the walls as you shuffle into what feels like a whole other world.

"Buttercup! Thought we lost you back there." Your one and only friend's voice rises above the crowd as she spots you, and she strolls over to rescue you from the rest of the party. Robin's smile lighting up when she takes hold of your hand soothes you at once, and you breathe deeply as she pulls you along to a more open area of the house where Steve and two other people are standing and chatting.

"Oh, hi! Is this your new friend?" Once she turns to look at you, you recognize both her and the guy standing next to her immediately. The brunette is Nancy Wheeler, one of the most popular girls when you were in school besides being Steve's ex-girlfriend. And standing next to her–

"I know her," Jonathan Byers cuts in, a soft smile tweaking his lips as he waves in your direction. "She and I were in gym together freshman year."

It does come as a surprise that he remembers, but then again, if anyone would, it would be Jonathan Byers. You two were famously bad in your class, constantly being overlooked by the more athletic students and criticized for your pathetic performance in any and all sports by the coach. But your saving grace had been that you were terrible together, even though you were both shy and socially awkward freshmen who could barely talk to each other, much less anyone else. He's the only other one that was really reaching the same level of an outcast as you in school, aside from the infamous Eddie Munson, whom you've only spoken to a handful of times when you've seen him at Family Video but has been one of the few to treat you with familiarity and kindness….two things you rarely find with people your age.

"Really? I feel like I should remember you…did we have any-?"

"No, uh, no we didn't." You don't have the heart to tell her you sat behind her in biology for two years straight, because she seems like a nice girl and you know it'll just make her feel bad and turn the conversation into an awkward mess. So it's easier just to avoid it. And it's already difficult for you to imagine her and Steve…it just hurts, even though it shouldn't. If they didn't last, what chance would you ever have?

"Aw, well, it's really nice to meet you! Steve's told me so much about you, so has Robin. You're a movie buff, huh?"

"I-I…yeah, I like movies."

She's so pretty that it's honestly kind of intimidating, not to mention you're stood in the same circle as not just four other people, but four very cool and charismatic people. You've got no chance, especially with Steve being one of those four, and so you know you just want to say as little as possible to minimize the inevitable embarrassment. But it soon becomes very apparent that you're just destined to be the center of attention.

"Like? She's seen like, every movie in existence." Robin backs you up, maybe intentionally or not, and the way she gushes about you makes you want to hide…but not in the bad way. It's flattering, genuinely flattering. Not something you're all that used to, at all. "She just dropped off Breakfast Club today. Classic."

"Ooh! Who's your favourite?" Nancy looks back at you, sincerity in her eyes. She really is so pretty.

"U-Um…An..Andrew…I like Andrew." That's not entirely a lie, but it also serves as a convenient enough answer to avoid drawing suspicion.

"I, uh, I like Ally." Steve pipes up from nowhere, shoulders shifting as he readjusts his jacket.

"I'm surprised you're not a Molly Ringwald fan, Steve." Jonathan pipes up, and Steve shakes his head with a laugh, but his eyes stick to yours and they don't flicker away this time. And he nibbles his lower lip between his teeth, bites down–oh, he bites down, and suddenly nothing that anyone else says makes it to your ears as you stop and stare. A warm feeling stirs within you, like the words you want to say are bubbling up to your throat–

"C'mon, let's dance! I love this song!" But before they have a chance to come out, Robin's tugging you by the hand over to the dance floor, leaving the other three looking on at the two dorks who have no idea how to function at a party. Robin pulls you to the center of the crowd and giggles as you shyly stick close to her, allowing her to take your other hand too and move them around as the two of you bounce along to the rhythm. You don't really know what you're doing, and neither does she, but the more you realize that nobody is really looking aside from the two of you at each other, it slowly becomes easier and easier to just let the beat move you and a smile to work its way on to your face as Robin twirls you around and laughs free-spiritedly. Song after song comes and goes, you occasionally get a glimpse of Steve watching you through the throng of people–and he looks like he's smiling. Some small, selfishly hopeful part of you prays he's smiling at you.

When you finally tear your eyes away and turn back, Robin's gone. Glancing around to try and find her, you only then distantly remember her speaking in your ear just loud enough over the music that she was gonna go get a drink, but you should've been paying more attention–without her around, you feel small, and scared again. Someone bumps you hard with their elbow and you squeak at the pain in your side, someone else cursing at you for bumping into them in the process, and once you have a chance after that you're slipping through the crowd to get out of the most concentrated area of people. And when you do, you still don't see her, not over by the kitchen or out by the front door.

You can't spot Robin over the crowd you just wormed your way out of, can't really see anyone with so many people in one place. Somebody jostles you as they shove past, and in the heat of the moment, the only option you have is the guy standing just a few feet away, who just pushed his way past a few people in his way–the one you've been too mortified to try and talk to one on one since you were fourteen years old.

"Steve?"

"What's up?" He's strangely alert, focused completely on you like nothing else about the party exists.

"I'm gonna walk home, I…I just need to go home."

"Already? Are you alright?" It's a little shocking to hear that, and to see how concern spells out across his pretty features as he reaches to touch your arm–your arm.

"I'm…I-I'm fine, I just…it's a little too much for me. I don't.." You can't get the words out. I don't belong here. They feel too painful to say in front of someone you admire so much, and you pull away from his touch despite wanting it so badly.

"Aw…okay, wait by the back door, I'll go tell Robin and I'll drive you home."

"It's fine. I'll walk." You're saying it as you're already heading towards the open back door, one that's sliding glass that leads out to the grassy backyard, because you'd much rather dart around the side of the house than fight your way back through to the front door. Plus, you seriously need a breath of fresh air right now. You've got no idea that he's hurrying after you, and has a full view of what's waiting for you when you get out the door.

The second you step out into the cool, airy night, the sloshing shhhh sound of running water hits your ears–and then it hits the rest of you, a spray of freezing cold water crashing into your whole body and catching you completely off guard. The grass beneath you is slippery, and you stumble back and hit the ground hard on your spine, and they're still spraying you with what feels like a fire hose of water with a cackling symphony of laughter until Steve's voice rises above the crowd.

"Hey! Knock that shit off!"

The tidal wave stops and leaves you shaking only when the garden hose drops from your ex-classmate's hands, and that's because Steve's grabbed hold of it and ripped it from his grasp before shoving him, his face so red with anger like you've never seen before. But it doesn't stop the laughing of the crowd gathered around, all of them clearly having waited for the perfect victim to come out to pull their little prank–and each and every face you recognize as someone who at one point tortured you in school.

It takes you one try, then another to get up, still shaky and cold from the water and trying not to slip on the wet grass–but when you do get to your feet you stumble out of the lit area of the yard and around the side of the house, tears welling in your eyes as they laugh even louder and jeer at you with mocking insults that make the sting of humiliation burn even harder. You just want to run as far away as you can, away from the house, the people, from Steve–he must think you're such an idiot–but you hit another wall, although this one catches you in two strong arms before you fall again.

"Hey–princess? Why are you soaked?"

It's the last person you want to see right now, the most likely guy in the entirety of Hawkins to mock you for your current state. But Billy's got confusion and concern written all over his face even so, his voice laced with something a little more…strained.

"Tell me what happened." The cigarette he must have come out to smoke dangles haphazardly from his lips, but he lets it fall and mindlessly grinds it into the dirt when he actually notices it does. Otherwise, his eyes are completely centered on yours.

"I wanna go home," You sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He pulls you into his arms, uncaring as to the fact that you're drenched and freezing. He seems more attentive towards warming you up. And he is warm.

"Who did this to you?"

"I d-dunno his name…"

"Describe him. Where is he?" You point weakly towards the back of the house, still sniveling like a crying baby. You can hear a voice in your head telling you to suck it up, that you're just trying to get attention. That you deserved that.

"Wait here." Whatever words you want to say can't squeeze around the lump in your throat. You just turn your eyes down as Billy steps around you, gait heavy and purposeful as he marches towards the back and collides with someone, yet doesn't stop.

"Watch it, man–hey! There you are," Steve's voice reaches you, but doesn't, at the same time. You don't even turn to look, just stand there staring at the grass and feeling the tears fall and hit the ground as he hurries over and moves in front of you to grip your shoulders.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You brusquely wipe the tears away with your sleeve, and soon you have your arm pinned to your chest as Steve tugs you into his arms and squeezes you so tight against his shoulder.

"Shit, you're cold–come on, let's go inside and warm you up-"

"No!" You push against his chest, and he leans back but doesn't let go, hands loosely holding you still. Your voice is strong but your touch is weak, at least too weak to get away from him. "I don't want to, Steve! I don't want them to laugh at me! I'm fucking sick of it!"

He's struck speechless. You've ruined it all, just like always. Just like you and everyone else in the world knew you would. Stupid, you're so goddamn stupid.

"Then…Then let's not go through the house." He pulls you closer to the side of the house, near the edge of the roof–a sturdy, box-shaped pressure meter serves as the perfect thing for him to step up on, and when he pulls you up with him he clasps his hands together once he's close enough the the edge of the roof jutting out from the first floor. "Here, step on my hands. Climb up–but be careful!"

You don't have the energy to argue with him. And you don't want to subject yourself to anyone else seeing your tears, since you're sure that more of your bullies will be lying in wait near the front of the house to hurt you even worse. But sometimes, you hate how stubborn Steve can be, even as he's lifting you up to climb on to the roof and out of the way of more danger. Once you're kneeling on the tiles, he hauls himself up alongside you with a few groans of effort, before carefully moving towards the window that overlooks the rooftop and yanking it up and open. He ushers you to climb inside and drops inside after you, and once it's closed, you find yourself standing in some stranger's bedroom.

"Steve, we shouldn't be-" He hurries past you and turns his head to raise a finger to his lips, his hand shooting out to twist the lock to the bedroom door. And to make doubly sure that you won't be encroached on, he takes the chair sitting at the desk against the wall and props it underneath the door handle, ensuring that it's properly snug before he sighs in relief.

And now, against all odds, you're standing in a stranger's bedroom at a house party with Steve Harrington. Soaking wet, cold, and cheeks still tearstained from your outburst, wondering what in the world is going to come next–aside from more heartbreak.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #harringrove x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #5k

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epithet-beloved · 5 months

Note

hihi i was wondering if u could do something for parental epithet ramsey ?? (specifically a black poc kid if u could)

FAMILY PORTRAIT

synopsis… Ramsey draws a portrait of you and wins an argument on the internet.

ft. Ramsey Murdoch

tags… epithet erased, fluff, familial pairing, banter, reader is black, reader and Ramsey live together, reader is implied to also be an artist

word count… 907

a/n… I myself am not black, so if anything in here is inaccurate or could use improvement, you can let us know! I know how much it sucks to not feel represented in fics, so I wanna make everyone feel as welcome as possible on this blog ✧ 🦄

Ramsey could hear your sigh from across the room.

“What is it, kiddo?” From the slight reflection in his drawing tablet, his one eye could spot where you laid on his bed, scrolling on your phone while facing away with him.

“Nothing important.” You wanted to scroll away from the irritating reply, but something kept you staring at it with a foul expression. “Whenever I post about how it isn’t hard to just draw more black characters, there’s always someone in the replies going ‘oh, but it is hard though’!” You did a high, nasally voice of what you imagined some stranger on the internet with a bad opinion to sound like.

At first, Ramsey didn’t say anything at all. Did he even hear you? But eventually, you heard the sound of his chair turning around, causing you to look over your shoulder. Your absolute gerbil of a father sat there with the cockiest grin on his face, leaving you totally clueless as to what would come out of his mouth next.

“Stay still, I’ll prove ‘em wrong.”

Blink. “Whaddya mean?”

By the time those words had escaped your mouth, your dad had already turned back around and opened a blank canvas on his screen. “I’ll do like, a quick sketch. A five minute one or something. Then I’ll post it, because it’s not that hard and anyone who says it is is wrong and they deserve to know how wrong they are.”

Not the words you were expecting to hear. At the same time, though….you weren’t opposed to it.

“You’re saying you want to help me win an argument against someone I don’t know on the internet?”

His golden eye almost seemed to gleam with mischief at the notion. “Ain’t I such a cool dad?”

……Well, it’s not like you could say no to that. So instead, you sighed and tossed your phone onto a pillow, propping yourself up on your elbow and smiling at the man you called your father. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Once you’d given him express approval, the scammer slash furry artist resumed his position of being hunched over his tablet all too eagerly. Despite his almost childish glee, the movements of his hand were still precise, almost effortlessly so. It was never something you really mentioned to him or anything, since he’d probably get all smug about it, but it was a skill you hoped you’d be able to hone one day, too.

It was a comfortable silence, at least, between Ramsey’s reminders of “no peeking!” as he covered the canvas with his other hand. Even if the anticipation was gnawing at you a little, you felt….relaxed. Fading evening light spilled through the gaps in the blinds, and you could faintly hear the sound of a fan running in the background. It was a quiet evening with no responsibilities, nothing to do. Just you and your weird dad.

Speaking of said weird guy….

“You done?”

“Yeah, almost.” His pen strokes were getting smaller than before, probably adding the minute details after blocking out the basic shapes at the beginning. “Just need to clean this up a bit aaaand….” With surprising dexterity, he flipped his pen in his hand to do some quick erasing. “Yeah! Looks good.”

With a quick mutter of “lemme see”, you scuttled over to your father’s desk to peek at the final product, so to speak. Now that you were standing right next to him, the Australian seemed almost sheepish.

Scratching the back of his neck with one hand, he would say, “I maaaybe stylized it a bit, so it isn’t a one to one, but I thought it would be cute!”

…..It was. It was cute.

As your eyes scanned over the rough sketch, you noticed all the little details that you hardly thought about when you looked at yourself, but Ramsey seemed to have recorded with surprising accuracy. Your facial features, body proportions, hairstyle, and overall form were all mostly blocked out with simple shapes, but even then, there was something about the way Ramsey used them that gave it so much personality. Your personality.

“This is how you see me?”

“Yeah.” His response was so quick that you doubt he even questioned it. It just came naturally to him. “It’s easy to draw you, mostly ‘cause I see you every day, but also ‘cause I love you. I mean, It’s beyond easy to draw what you love, you know?”

….That was beyond corny, even for him. That’s what you wanted to say out of your own embarrassment, but he was just so….casual about it that you didn’t wanna ruin the moment.

In your trance of trying to think of what to say next, you noticed something.

“I was smiling?”

Ramsey cocked a brow. Did he think you’d already known that? “Yeah. Why?” After a pause, his ratty features took on a more playful expression, and he scooched over to give you a light bump with your elbow. “Whaaat, is it so surprising that you’d be havin’ fun with your old man?”

Laughter rose up from your chest like bubbles, making it hard to speak while you retaliated with a little shove of your own. “Shut up, I’d just spaced out! Quit being a drama queen!”

“What’s wrong with men being queens, eh? Aren’t I allowed to express myself?”

Internet argument aside, you definitely feel like you won today.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !#🦄's writings #epithet erased #epithet erased x reader #epithet erased imagines #ramsey murdoch #ramsey murdoch x reader #ramsey murdoch imagines #familial imagines #platonic imagines

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slavghoul · 2 years

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A really nice article from this month's Classic Rock (6/2022) focusing on the atmosphere of Ghost shows and what Tobias is like on stage versus in private.

THE GREAT PRETENDER

The choral wells of Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere Mei, Deus drift through the audience at Manchester Arena. It’s Saturday night, the mood is high and a cathedral is being built on stage. Behind the curtain, eye catch glimpses of the sort of theatre normally associated with the Iron Maidens, Rammsteins and Alice Coopers of this world. Giant steps. High walls and arches. Ornate stained glass window backdrops. More dry ice than Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights video, dotted with a scattering of men in hard hats. Stonehenge this is not.

The curtain drops. The opening guitar glitter of Kaisarion bursts into our faces. Punters wearing nuns’ habits, crucifixes and corpse paint gaze up like children in a sweet shop, while Nameless Ghouls in gas masks are illuminated by cracking pyrotechnics. As riffs and drum thunder roll out like groovy cavalry, marrying heavy mystique with Def Leppard-sized hooks, it’s easy to see why Metallica and Dave Grohl are fans. The most rapturous applause, though, is reserved for their mercurial leader. An impishly charismatic figure, masked by black-and- white face paint. Hair slicked back with grey. Microphone in hand. Part Victorian military dandy, part Joel Grey’s MC from Cabaret in tight black skinny jeans and black leather gloves, Papa Emeritus IV strides, skips and gesticulates with the precision and campery of a seasoned Broadway star. And although there are thousands watching, those painted eyes of his have an oddly penetrative, Mona Lisa-esque effect. All-seeing. It’s as if he’s looking at you. Welcome to the Ghost show.

A few hours earlier we’re in a Grade Il-listed hotel on Manchester's Oxford Road, lifting an armchair with a short, polite Swedish guy in a band T-shirt. Silver chains clink at his wrists. A skull ring hulks round one finger. His generously spiked hair is jet-black, contrasting with almost bloodless skin. He could have wandered in from one of the rock pubs across the road.

"Master,” Tobias Forge says with a smile, pulling back his jacket, when asked about the T-shirt. “They’re an American eighties death metal band. They’re not very good, but they're cool!”

It’s surreal to think that this is the man who will slink across the stage as Papa Emeritus IV tonight (the latest incarnation of Forge’s fictitious, ecclesiastical one-man dynasty). The 41-year-old conductor at the heart of the 700 cues, 45 or so crew members and four tour buses that make up the Ghost experience; a production that, in some ways, feels more akin to the Cirque Du Soleil than to a rock show. It’s a globetrotting colossus, following its doomy, cultish origins in Linkoping, Sweden in 2006.

“Some people prefer ad-hoc rock bands like Pearl Jam or Springsteen, who come up on stage in whatever they wore on the street and just start playing,” he says, quickly adding: "which I love; I love Pearl Jam, I love Bruce Springsteen. But that’s not what we do. We don’t improvise that much. A lot of the show is free-form, which makes it edgy, but there’s still a script.”

Having released a gloriously grandiose new album, Impera, Ghost returned to the live circuit this year as co-headliners with Volbeat in the USA, causing some political “head-butting” when Ghost went on second every night. As Forge implies, they are not so much ‘hard to follow'-’ as logistically impossible. Now; at the start of this European tour, they’re very much on top - with Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats and Twin Temple in support slots.

“Co-billing for us is not necessarily a great thing,” Forge reasons, carefully. “What we’re doing is not compatible with many other bands. Not necessarily the sound; I don’t see a problem for a fan to absorb both. But if it’s going to be a forty-five-minute changeover, is that great for the crowd that paid for these tickets? I can order ten courses I really like, but I can only eat one. I’m not sure it’s doing the desired trick.”

There’s a cool flash of fanaticism about Forge, just detectable behind his approachable demeanour. He looks you straight in the eye. He pauses to consider his answers. During our conversation he’ll compare putting on a show to a football season, making a film, running a restaurant and going to war. All are analogies he’s used before, and all support the sense of auteurship that ripples through the Ghost world (as well as echoing Forge’s own fondness for sports, Stanley Kubrick and good food).

But there are other sides to him. The geeky classic-rock lover, who watches live Queen and Iron Maiden clips to get pumped before shows. The guy who on tour goes out to football and hockey games. The arty urbanite with friends in music, film and amusement parks back home in Stockholm. The happily married father of teenage twins, who binge-watched The Sopranos, Game Of Thrones and Stranger Things with his family over lockdown. The reluctant frontman who, if he had his way, would be Ghost’s guitarist.

“But that’s like complaining about not being the general because you got to be the king instead. I would have felt more fluid being the guitar player, but the difference would have been that, mask or no mask, my on-stage persona would have been closer to my real one - my actual one, my private one - than it is nowadays.”

Over at the arena, the gap between those personas increases. As Impera's lead single Call Me Little Sunshine starts up, Papa returns in glittering cardinal's robes. He looks like a Christmas tree. Freddie Mercury via the Vatican. Liberace for the holy orders.

Back home, conversely, Forge marvels at the chops of friends like Fredrik Akesson, Opeth’s lead guitarist who played on Impera, embellishing the whole record with splashes of virtuosic, 80s-rocking flair.

“I mourn the fact I get to play the guitar so little over the course of my life, because I love playing,” Forge says, twisting his skull ring, “and I think I am a better musician than I am a singer. I just happen to be a good singer in Ghost.”

A self-described jack of all trades, the place you're most likely to find Forge, on tour, is behind a drum kit. Backstage he pounds through Top 40 hits as part of a mobile workout regimen. Foreigner’s Urgent, Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas, Lenny Kravitz’s Are You Gonna Go My Way? and The Guess Who’s American Woman are all on his go-to list.

In the past he relished the travel aspect of band life, ducking out to explore new sites and record shops. So much so that it began to tire him out, pre-show. Now, he mostly sticks to a strict routine of workouts and walking with audiobooks - most recently Jan Guillou’s Carl Hamilton series, Sweden’s politically astute answer to James Bond.

“Ten books, eighteen hours,” he says. “That’s good for ten thousand steps, and you can do calls when you’re walking.”

On stage the seven Nameless Ghouls are in similar ship shape, darting from the menace of From The Pinnacle To The Pit to a galloping Spillways - complete with guitar duels, knowing glances and gestures. Even without facial expressions their performances feel characterful, not to mention being shit-hot on a technical level. It says a lot about them, as people, that they’re happy to be in this group anonymously.

For almost a decade Forge was similarly hidden. He spoke to journalists from behind curtains or masks. Officially he only revealed his identity in 2017, following a lawsuit from ex-bandmates. These days, living in a celebrity-heavy pocket of Stockholm (the Skarsgard acting dynasty are among his neighbours) he’s relatively undisturbed, except for any passing rock fans who recognize him from video interviews on YouTube, and a few Google images. How does that level of visibility sit with him? Does he enjoy doing interviews, for instance, while unmasked?

“I guess from a therapeutic point of view, speaking so much about yourself, your background and your motivation of why you’re doing this, it does have a cathartic function. But I definitely reach a point each day where I don’t want to talk any more. As much as people think that as an artist you like to revel in yourself...” he catches himself. “Look, I’m an exhibitionist, of course, but I definitely get to a point where I get really bummed talking about myself after a while.”

Perhaps this explains the desire to inhabit other personas, and makes sense of his latent acting ambitions.

“Yes,” he says with a laugh when asked if there are specific characters he’d love to play, “but I can’t say because it's part of how I view myself, and that might not rhyme with the rest. As an actor you are working with your physical attributes as your currency, so I know being five foot nine, white, with a certain body shape, I couldn’t do everything on the menu.”

In the Ghost universe, Forge bypasses such restrictions, starring in it and directing the various other parts. Mid-set at Manchester Arena, the audience’s mouths stretch into grins as Papa Nihil - an ancient ‘mentor’ cardinal in aviators - is wheeled out in an open coffin. This was not expected. Supposedly they killed him off in Mexico just before the first lockdown, but here he is, ‘reanimated’ by stage hands to deliver Miasma's saxophone solo. It’s all very Alice Cooper, with a dash of Benny Hill.

“I like to compare it to running a restaurant, because people...” Forge searches for the words. “You grew tired of your quiche or whatever a long time ago, even if it’s your grandma’s recipe, but people expect it to taste the same every night because they don’t come in and eat it every day. They expect the quiche to taste the way it did, because they brought two friends with them.”

So what dish would Ghost be?

“Because of the mixed nature of the music that’s combined,” he muses, “I guess it’s a calzone, with sushi in it, with cream on top.”

As the hits keep on coming, they make good on that sushi-calzone-with-cream-on-top concept. The Ghouls storm into Kraken-sized riffer Cirice, and Papa Emeritus reappears in bat wings – because why not? There are smoke jets, more dry ice, new robes, a fancy hat that (at certain angles) looks a bit like antlers... And then come the flames. Big ones. Fucking loads of them, giving the pyromaniac crews behind Slipknot and Rammstein a run for their money, before leading into He Is - a satirical yet stirring singalong with ABBA in its veins, completed following the suicide of Forge’s friend Selim Lemouchi (of Dutch occult rockers The Devil’s Blood) in 2014. Four years previously, his music-loving older brother died suddenly, the same day the first Ghost songs were released. Death runs deep in this music - in the fortitude it’s taken Forge to run with it.

But they're not done yet.

The metallic crunch of Mummy Dust is swiftly offset by Papa donning a blue sparkly jacket. “Let me hear you say ‘oomph’!” he roars into the audience, followed by what might be “did you feel it in your pants?!” - but it’s hard to tell through the make-up and an accent that sounds increasingly Compare The Meerkat-esque.

Indeed, for all Papa’s suave qualities his stage banter comes with an enchantingly befuddled edge; somewhere between a swashbuckling lothario and a slightly mad pensioner, but less creepy than that sounds. Is this the same softly spoken Scandi guy who chatted earlier about doing his 10,000 steps and watching hockey games?

“We’ve had a good hang!” he declares, by way of a pre-encore ‘farewell’. “I hope you leave feeling... well hung?!”

From there it’s time for a dynamite brace of Enter Sandman (they provided a version for Metallica’s Blacklist guest covers album last year) and Dance Macabre - the least metal song ever recorded by a band with such a metal-friendly image as Ghost.

“Just one more?” Papa shouts to the whooping masses. “And then you go out into the Manchester night, and either you fuck someone, or you go fuck yourself! How about that?”

With that, the band nail an addictive Square Hammer, and the cheers shoot up by several decibels.

Back at the hotel, just before he disappears to gear up for the evening ahead, Tobias Forge considers how it feels when he steps on stage. Transformed. Ready.

“I would say phenomenal,” he replies. “It’s one of the few moments where I don’t think about much else. Most of the time I am thinking of something else. I’m worrying about all kinds of stuff at the same time. The best nights are when you flow through them, and the worst nights are when you think: ‘Oh shit, I forgot the last step, I need to go back,’ and you start thinking about it.”

If that happens tonight, they hide it well. Curtain calls arc taken to the pastoral strains of Emmylou Harris's Sorrow In The Wind, and as Papa and the Ghouls wave, blow kisses and throw plectrums into the adoring audience there’s something reassuringly innocent about it all.

When children learn the truth about Santa Claus, they often keep believing anyway because they want to. They play along with stockings by the chimney, or Dad/Uncle Pete/whoever in the red suit, because it’s more fun that way. The same thing happens with Ghost. Ultimately it’s make-believe. A mystery with a sparkling rock soundtrack.

‘Fun’ can feel like a dismissive term. But as we’ve been reminded tonight, there is power in fun. Power in big, rousing guitars. Power in brilliantly entertaining spectacles. Not least of all, in recent times, fun offers cathartic escape like little else. The means to smile instinctively. Restoration for anyone who’s ever felt crushed by life.

“I would put on Live After Death before going on stage because it takes me near to the dream, rather than thinking of the practical nature of today,” Forge reasons. “That’s what it’s all about. All we’re doing is dreaming.”

Fistfulls of 'Ghost dollars' are scattered by roadies as house lights go up, the smell of burning permeates the arena and, finally, we wake up.

#the band ghost #interview #tobias forge

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 4 months

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high infidelity | five

It only feels this raw right now, lost in the labyrinth of my mind. *Elliots POV* After a couple of anxiety ridden hours we had finally made it to Seattle. The anticipation of seeing Noah again was consuming me to the point that I could hardly sit still. Danielle kept reassuring me that everything was going to work out but it didn’t help whatsoever. I just had to ride this feeling out until I saw Noah again. Seattle was so beautiful but Noah was right, it’s not Canada. I only ever came down here for sporting events or concerts so I’ve never had a chance to really sightsee. Our hotel room was right around the corner from the venue so we walked down the road to find somewhere to eat since we couldn’t check in for another hour. We were talking about our game plan for tonight and not paying attention cause as soon as we turned the corner we ran into Matt and Bryan. “Oh fuck.” Danielle cursed. “What are you two doing here?”

“Ok you can’t say a fucking thing to Noah but little miss over here wanted to surprise him.” Danielle piped back as she pointed at me. “How romantic.” Matt sarcastically replied as he put his hand over his heart. “If you guys want we get you in to watch from the side stage but I don’t want any credit cause the idea of love makes me want to puke. Especially the idea of Noah being in love.” “Yeah, it’s super nauseating.” Bryan chimed in.

“So fucking thoughtful Matthew, thank you!” I mocked as I put my hand over my heart. “Or I could just tell Noah.” he replies shrugging his shoulders at us. “Not one word, Dierkes, you got it?” I got right in his face and he just winked at me before promising me he would stay silent. We exchanged numbers so we could meet up later to sneak in. They walked back into the venue and I just shook my head. Danielle even looked over at me with a concerning look on her face. “What?” “You know if things don’t work out with you and Noah. You and Matt have some weird ass chemistry going on here.” “He is not my type.” I scoffed. “True, but he was totally flirting with you.” “If that was him flirting he has a lot of work to do.” I laughed as we walked down the road to find a restaurant. *Noahs POV* The last time I was this nervous for a show was opening night of our first headliner two years ago. I felt like I had lived 10 different lives since then and thanks to Covid I’m pretty sure I had. I was still in denial that I would get to talk to Elliot after the show and it was making it hard for me to stay focused. A part of me was scared she was just going to tell me to fuck off and I’d never hear from her again, but then again maybe she’ll give me a second chance. The crowd in Seattle was one of the best we had all tour. There was no altercations and everyone looked like they were having an incredible time. Some nights I still got flashbacks of our Warped Tour days where people would watch our sets just to tell us we sounded like shit or to start fights with our fans or even us sometimes. This tour was really showing me people cared about our band, which was something I was having a hard time wrapping around my head still.

“So before I start this next song I uh, I wanted to dedicate this to someone, even though she’s not here to hear me out. I hope you guys can help me out, this is ‘Just Pretend.’”

“We’ll try again when we’re not so different. We’ll make amends, till then I’ll just pretend.“

I was on my knees belting this song out with every emotion I had. I know I wrote this song as a joke to show how easy it was to write a popular song but it hit different after everything that’s happened since last night. I could feel tears wanting to form but they stopped when saw Elliot and Danielle on the side of the stage with Bryan. I froze and my heart was pounding so fucking hard that I could feel it in my ears. I looked over at Nick and he was just as surprised when he saw them. I brought my attention back to her and she smiled at me through her tears. If I wasn’t already on my knees that goddamn smile of hers would’ve buckled me right over. I stayed on my knees and didn’t break our eye contact while we finished the song.

“Weigh down on me, stay till morning, way down…would you say I’m worthy?”

We finished our set a couple songs later and I ran to the side of the stage but she was already gone. I was confused at first and wondered if I hallucinated her being here but when I turned the corner she was waiting for me in the hallway. I couldn’t help but smirk as the guys walked by and said hi to her, exposing how short she really was. It was adorable. I couldn’t get enough. As she high-fived Nick she saw me from the corner of her eye and met my stare. I forgot how bright her eyes were and it sent a shock wave through my body. “What are you doing here?” “I-“ I didn’t even let her answer, the anticipation was killing me. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her with no hesitation. I wanted to fully blame the adrenaline from the show on this but I couldn’t wait any longer. I pressed her against the wall as the kiss deepened. She was standing on her tallest tip toes and it caused me to smile against her lips. “I thought a grand gesture was needed.” She said as we broke apart.

“Elliot, I am so sorry about last night. I know once we figure this out it will all make sense.” “Ellie.” “What?” “You can call me Ellie. I think you’ve earned that privilege now that you’ve dedicated a song to me.” she joked before kissing my cheek. “Also, you guys were amazing tonight.” She adds as she wraps me into a hug. I guess my sweat didn’t seem to bother her as she held onto to me tighter. “So it’s kind of tradition after Seattle shows that we play some kind of game, with drinking rules obviously.” Folio said rudely interrupting us. “I’m thinking we play Uno.” “I’m gonna mop the floor with your tears Folio.” Ellie shot back at him as she gave him the middle finger. “You’re so on.” He says as gives us both the finger before walking away. She laughs before turning her attention back to me. I kissed her again, this time I was little more gentle since my adrenaline was wearing off. I never wanted to stop kissing her, it felt like seeing the closing fireworks at Disneyworld for the first time. We broke apart and I planted a soft kiss on her nose and forehead as I caught my breath. Yeah, I’m falling in love and I’m fucking terrified.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic

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bloom-ribbon22 · 4 months

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Bloom's Dinotrux HUMAN AU infodump: D-Bros + Skrap-itt

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I know I already posted them but I still wanna put em here + front facing D-Structs(unrelated note: don't usually do front faces much, I have tried it probably two times and it either ends up looking weird or just not right but I do like how it turned out this time! hmm maybe I should do more characters front facing).

anyways, I've always wanted to infodump share some bits of lore, facts, info, and other stuff of my human AU version of the Dinotrux and I kind of started with the D-bros + Skrap-itt, why? ngl they're one of the most interesting characters to me. soooooo here you go :)

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D-Stroy:

-when D-Structs was born, D-Stroy looked at his parents while pointing at his new baby sibling and asked "mom, dad.... why does he look so ugly?"

-a very mischievous kid back then. he was the ultimate pranker. he pranks a lotta people that he almost lost count of them but his favourite pranking victim is you guessed it! ya boi D-Structs! oh poor poor young, bratty, selfish D-Structs... always having silly stuff drawn on his face when he was asleep and almost getting scared to death everytime his brother just jumpscares him...I'd list more but this is getting way too long lol.

-hair is l o n g and messy af. you can probably store/hide items in there idk.

-has a high tolerance for spicy food and also enjoys eating it.

-even as a kid, he always gets into fights and still does which results to him always receiving new scars/injuries. almost never minds it because with all honesty he doesn't really give a shit what he looks like. even though he is incredibly strong, he knows his limits and also knows he isn't invincible or indestructible so he tries his best not to overestimate his strength and avoid battles if he knows he can't win it.

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D-Structs:

-was already a selfish guy when he was a bratty little kid and a bit of a snitch too. when he was five and D-Stroy would do something to him, even something that's completely harmless like slightly nudging his arm this left D-Structs no choice but to use a move that every older sibling fears "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

-heavily dislikes the taste of sweets. can't really handle it, the taste of sugar and the feeling of it melting into his tongue is just....sickening, maybe even irritating...in fact, it's unbearable....

-similarly to D-Stroy, he often gotten to a lotta fight even as a kid and still does which ends up getting himself new scars/injuries. most of these fights are pretty much his fault as most of the time he's the one that's starting/asking for it.

-"I'd rather live my life all alone until I die" that's what he thought to himself until Skrap-itt came to his life. story between them was kinda similar to the canon. it was so hard for him to tolerate this talkative and dumb lil pipsqueak but as time goes on he kind of started to get used to his company that it feels oddly weird whenever he's alone... sometimes...after all, Skrap-itt was the only one that gives a fuck about him...

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Skrap-itt:

-short king. you can kick him like he's a football or better yet, pick him up like he's some kind of cat and maybe even put him in a box, seal it shut, and deliver it to any random person. "your order is here"

-a cat person. he understands them, he knows they're not just annoying animals always whining for food 24/7, they are loving and caring too! they're not just, y'know, not that playful...at least..most of the time...he would adopt a cat but sadly D-Structs not really a big fan of pets in his home.

-was the weird lonely kid who often gets picked on a lot and many avoided him because, again, a weirdo and thus lived a pretty lonely life. Smash-itt, Break-itt and Lloyd are often the ones picking on him which would explain why Skrap-itt is so bitter to them when he meets them again, worse part is that D-Structs, though completely unaware of their history, """hired""" them.

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that's all for now, there will be plenty more(and I may add more stuff) and of course I'll make some for Ty and the gang :) fun but not needed fact: I started to type all of this with 11 percent battery and now it's 7 percent....dang

anyways I'm coming back to school at January 3 and I'm scared af sidbdiebsisbisbsisjd-

#dinotrux #dinotrux au #d structs #d stroy #skrap it

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voodoo-writer · 1 year

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Commander Mayday and his past.

After The Outpost I’ve been thinking a lot about Mayday and his squad. We probably won’t get a lot of lore about him in S3 (probably won’t get any lore tbh) so I just wanted to post my thoughts here and maybe discuss it with my fellow clone fans. Do reach out if you have any thought about this!

Mayday was a clone commander. GAR structure is kind of hard to understand but the general consensus is that clone commander is a high-ranking role. Who always has a commander by their side? Right, the Jedi, commanders usually act as their right hand, helping with managing all of squads, platoons, system armies etc. Mayday and his squad were to Baron IV somewhere at the beginning of the Empire.

In S1 Rampart gave Crosshair a commander role so new non-clone special troops could learn from him, like they wanted Gregor and other commandos to teach 1st generation of stormtroopers on Daro – for their tremendous experience.

So, my question is – why would anyone send a clone commander, who definitely had lots of war experience during the clone wars to God who knows where? They showed us that Mayday even knows how to disarm mines, though it is definitely was not his specialization. Like, he was all «good soldiers follow orders» guy, he was protecting the cargo without knowing what was in it for a year or so, he 100% would have taught tk-troopers.

But he was not sent to teach, they sent him to Baron IV.

Hear me out.

In TCW we did get a lot of Jedi Generals and their Commanders but we know that there were definitely more Jedi and more clone commanders out there, fighting the war.

I think that Mayday probably did not kill his Jedi. Could not, would not, was not there to do so, that we don’t know but the outcome is the same. The Jedi lived and Mayday was sent as a reprimand to Baron IV along with his squad.

Like this headcanon/theory is kind of useless if we were to discuss future of tbb because we will maybe hear about Mayday again in like 2 sentences (like with Fives in s1) and that will be all but what I know that SW writing community is amazing. There is so much fanon that everyone agrees on that I read in lots of fanfictions, I feel there is so much in Mayday’s history that can be made, so much more we can learn or speculate and I feel like Mayday does not get enough attention he deserves (yet). Thank you for reading! :)

#commander mayday #mayday #the bad batch #tbb s2 #tbb #star wars #crosshair #the outpost #tbb s2e12 #the clone wars

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heavyelectricity · 26 days

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Gladiators 2024: The Review

Gladiators 2024 is in the books, and we have our first champions in 15 years! The new series started with high ratings and has continued to deliver throughout its 11 episode run, capturing the imagination of the general public so strongly that a second series has already been commissioned by the BBC.

Now that it's all over, I think it's fair to say that the show has been a creative triumph as well as a ratings hit, running much closer to the glory days of the 1990s ITV run than the disappointing 2008-09 Sky One revival. While it's fresh in the mind, it's a good time to take a look at what the show did right, as well as identifying any weaknesses that can be improved next time around.

The Good

First off, I think the overall look of the show is fantastic. One of the biggest weaknesses of the Sky show was the small studio setting, and thankfully Sheffield Arena gives the feeling of a big time event that Birmingham's National Indoor Arena did back in the day. The set retains plenty of elements of the 90s presentation, like the padded silver platform edges and the big imposing backdrop of The Wall, but with great modern touches like additional projection. I never hated the water element of the Sky show but I don't miss it, and the added pyrotechnics are a nice touch. I can't think of anything I'd change, except for maybe a move to a bigger arena – more on why later.

The presenter duo of Bradley and Barney Walsh have been somewhat divisive among fans, and there are definitely criticisms to be made. Having said that, it's clear that they're excited to be involved and I think that they're both totally fine on interviews, with Bradley's natural charisma and rapport coming through well. Guy Mowbray has been good value on commentary too.

The on-screen graphics all look very nice, and the introductory video packages and recaps of previous shows are a nice way to get to know the contenders. Likewise, the Gladiator intros are useful in familiarising the audience with the new cast, although it's very clear that they've been reused from episode to episode. I also really liked the touch of having all of the Gladiators welcoming the contenders into the final.

The selection of events was pretty much dead on – all of the returning games were top tier choices from the classic series, though they weren't all handled correctly. I think all three new events are worthwhile additions to the roster, with The Edge being the highlight and really the signature game for the modern show. I wasn't sure about it at first because the initial contenders were quite tentative, but once they started to sprint across, I was hooked. The scoring was initially too generous, but the revision to the rules in the semi-finals was perfect.

The Ring is very simple, but I can understand the need for that from a TV production perspective – you do need some low-setup, low-tech events to balance out the more elaborate events. Thankfully it is also very hard-hitting, so it's quite entertaining to watch. As for Collision, some people prefer Hit & Run but I actually prefer the new event, thanks to the greater visual involvement of the Gladiators. The need to carry the ball to score also adds an extra wrinkle to the whole thing.

I think the Gladiators this year mostly did a fantastic job in terms of both gameplay and establishing themselves as personalities. For me, there are a few standouts. Nitro is an absolute all-star – he's very charismatic and he seems to be an incredible all-rounder on the events. Legend's heel schtick is highly entertaining, with “There's no I in team, but there are five I's in individual brilliance” being my favourite line of the entire series. I've become a big fan of Fury – she's relentless whether she's on The Ring, The Edge or Powerball, and has a strong sense of fair play. Dynamite's performances stand out as being particularly impressive given that she's not the biggest of the group.

The standard of the contenders was also very high this year. I couldn't pick between Marie-Louise and Bronte for the women's final, and while I did predict the winner of the men's final, it was closer than I was expecting. There were some absolutely cracking close Eliminators along the way, and very few major mismatches. In most cases, even the lowest-scoring contenders managed to pick up points in the majority of their events.

The Bad

I really hate to say this as I'm a huge fan of Bradley Walsh's work on The Chase, but as good as he and Barney are on interviews, their scripted links have been arguably the weakest aspect of the show. Event introductions have frequently made me cringe, with some lame jokes and banter that comes off as forced. They're so much better when they're just allowed to operate naturally, and I hope that if they return, they'll be given room to play things a bit more off-the-cuff.

One aspect of the presentation that winds me up is an occasional lack of information. The clock is displayed on screen for the full duration of every event except The Ring, during which the timer is only shown for the final ten seconds of the game. Why? That's admittedly a small peeve, but I have a far bigger one – the Eliminator times of runners-up determine progression to the quarter-final and semi-final rounds, but we're never shown them. Since this information is so important, it's really frustrating that we never get to see those times, either via a clock running during the event or a leaderboard at the end of the show.

Of course, that only matters because the structure of the competition was a bit unusual – a factor of the 11-week format. I've got to be honest, as good as the action was, I'm not entirely sold on a tournament format that lets you theoretically lose two episodes in a row and still end up in the semi-finals. Also, the criteria for choosing replacement contenders in the case of injury was not especially transparent – lots of people were confused by the addition of Wesley as a brand new contender in the Quarter-Finals, and it's not entirely clear why Matt was brought back from the heats to replace Chung. Hopefully, next time will have more episodes and a simpler single-elimination tournament structure.

Before the series, I never thought that my criticisms of the events would be about the classics. However, Hang Tough was only featured on three episodes – a crazy low number for one of the most iconic events from the original show. I understand it's because The Edge and Hang Tough can't be set up during the same taping, and I get the need to establish the new event, but let's have a better balance the next time. As for Gauntlet, every single woman scored maximum points and most of the men did too – it's just too easy in its current form. I feel like there's no good reason no to revert to the 1994 rules, with five Gladiators, a 30-second time limit and time-based scoring.

I don't think any of the Gladiators were bad value, and I actually believe that people have been rather unfair to Viper in particular – he's been widely criticised for his performance in events, but in reality his performance has been similar to Wolf's contributions in the original run. The problem is that his villain character isn't quite connecting, and I hope he's allowed to show more personality than “silent and grumpy” if he returns. It's also sad to see that Athena has been given very few one-on-one events and very little interview time, so I hope she gets more focus if she comes back.

Further thoughts

Ulrika Jonsson has complained about the loss of the cheerleaders from the ITV show. I don't particularly miss them, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have them? Also, I'm a huge fan of the event music from the ITV version of the show, and not having such prominent tunes did bug me at first. However, over the course of the series I did become used to it and it's not something I'd look to change now.

Jet has mentioned that she and other past Gladiators would have liked to have been involved in the show, providing colour commentary or some sort of insight. This may be controversial, but I actually think that not including them was the right choice for the first series. The problem with bringing the old favourites back from the start is that you immediately run the risk of overshadowing the new cast, as well as pigeonholing the show as nothing more than a nostalgic product – something I think the show has very successfully avoided, as it's hugely popular with both kids and adults.

Having said that, I do think that bringing them in for a second series would be a good move now that the new cast is established. If the production team can bring back additional classic events, the veterans can speak with authority about what it's like to play them, and young fans can get a glimpse of the people their parents keep mentioning. What's more, if someone like Jet were to come back, it would be nice to have a woman as part of the presenting team, as was the case in the ITV and Sky versions of the show.

I have no doubts over the professionalism of everybody involved in the health and safety aspects of the show, and it was good to see stoppages and such when needed. However, I was quite surprised by the number of equipment malfunctions – lost shoes on The Wall, helmets coming off, all that stuff. There were also plenty of injuries – Comet, Sabre, Finley, Dev, Chung, even Finlay forfeited an event due to being banged up. It's obviously a high-impact show, but hopefully the next series won't be quite like this.

Although the arena used was good for the show, I feel like it may benefit from a move to a bigger venue for the next series. Public interest is sufficiently high I don't think you'd have trouble filling out the seats, and it would give the benefit of increasing the space available for the events - especially if a third event requiring ceiling space is added, since The Edge and Hang Tough should both be prominent.

Wishlist for next series

Three new events, two returning/revised and one new (return preferences: Skytrak, Atlaspheres and Danger Zone)

Gauntlet rules revised

Two to four additional Gladiators

Better utilisation of Viper and Athena

More episodes with a simplified tournament format

More transparency about the competitive aspects of the show

Presenters given either less scripting or better scripting

Fewer injuries!

Final thoughts

As a huge fan of Gladiators since the very first series, I was really apprehensive about the show returning. Would it live up to my expectations? The Sky show never managed to match the ITV run for me, even though I had the good fortune to attend a taping for the second series. Would it hit with the public? I've watched enough worthwhile retro revivals fall flat to know that it was by no means guaranteed.

The new series has exceeded my expectations - I genuinely didn't think it'd be pulled off this well, and I'm so happy the show has been given the revival it deserves. Overall I think the entire team has done a fantastic job, and hopefully it's clear that the criticisms that I've made come don't come from a desire to knock their hard work, but are provided with the most constructive intent. The show was great this year, and I'm confident that a few tweaks will make it even better next time around.

Hope you enjoyed this review - let me know your thoughts, and I'll be back soon with some statistical analysis for the series.

#bbc gladiators #gladiators #gladiators uk #tv review

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