#I probably just sounds stupid and selfish and I’m sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hentyehottie · 1 year

Note

i am so upset. we’ve been moots for like a month now and i haven’t come to throw some filth in your ask box yet 😩 buT it’s not too late!

alsO hI miya it’s nice to officially greet you 👉🏾👈🏾 i’m glad you enjoyed reading warm bodies! how are ya?

clears throat this is so long and i’m sorry but i like to ramble when i have ideas

So, I was lowkey just scrolling through your blog (i need to read more of your tasty ass work fr fr) and I noticed you reblogged a short fic about villian Kiribaku… A concept that has been untouched by my brain and was probably for good reason because now all I can think about is Red Riot the hardening villain who uses unbreakable to strike fear into civilians, heroes, and villains who dare to threaten his authority. Red Riot the villain is fucking huge and bulky and still has a smile of sunshine but a heart darkened by a selfish society. He honestly gives me Pain vibes, and idk if you’ve ever watched The Boys but I think he’d fit in perfectly with them, he definitely wants to kill heroes who don’t deserve to be called heroes.

Red Riot is very meticulous about the crimes he commits but there is one thing for sure— he loves a good fight. Doesn’t matter where the fight is or when it is, if there’s a fight brewin’ he’ll be there to find it. Also, random fact, he likes rocks soooo… he robs a lot of jewelry stores when he wants to add to his collection or he goes “shopping” at museums.

For example, big boy Riot has left the headquarters in search of a way to get his knuckles bloody, cruising around, looking for a hero to pick a fight with. Listen, even he’s got standards. He’s murdered a couple of people but never innocent ones, only heroes that don’t deserve their titles. And for that, he’s wanted by the Japanese government… Why’s he still walkin’ around like he’s some regular civilian though? I don’t even know. But… oh! Look at that, a hero.

The name of this hero doesn’t matter, he’ll scrapbook it later. A grin spreads across the villains face, a set of razor sharp teeth reveal themselves as he begins to approach the unsuspecting hero, following them to a more secluded part of the city to minimize witnesses as well as collateral damage.

This particular hero has quite a destructive quirk, so it’s truly no surprise that as soon as Red Riot attacks him, the hero begins to lay in blows that aren’t held back in the least. Indiscriminate waves of the disastrous quirk, that Red Riot easily dodges or blocks, cause nearly irreversible damage to nearby buildings, which no-doubt is putting civilians in even more danger than Red Riot’s presence alone. This is exactly /why/ he does the things that he does. With just one stupid fucking test, anyone could become a hero, even psychopaths like this.

As the hero is attempting to knock Red Riot down, the redhead villian doesn’t halter in anyway, getting closer and closer to the hero that looks like their about to shit their pants right in the alley. He’s nearly a foot away from the hero when he hears a blood-curdling scream that appears to be coming from above. He takes a moment to glance up and sees a woman plummeting to her death from the destroyed building that was just beside the alley. Then he looked back at the hero to see if he would do anything.

No. He was far too busy trying to keep his own ass safe. And for some reason, that pissed him off beyond comparison. He’d been holding back since the fight began, giving the hero a chance to defend himself, but it appeared time was running out. Hardening his fist, he aimed a blow directly to the hero’s face, satisfied with the sickening sound of flesh and bone breaking from the heavy punch, and watched the hero fly back into a pile of garbage bags, deserved.

With the screaming come closer and closer to where he was, Red Riot used the debris of the crumbling building to propel himself upwards and easily captured the woman who’d been falling, only then taking note of the bundle of life that she had protectively curled over. As they approached the ground, he hardened his legs and landed with ease, causing quite an indent in the earth.

While she’d been falling, hero eyes remained shut the entire time, but when she stopped falling, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings and the big strong arms that were wrapped around her rather protectively, she slowly opened one eye to take a peek at her savior.

In all his glory stood the infamous new Hero Killer, staring down at her with an arched brow on his handsome yet rugged face. The childhood scar on his eyelid had somewhat faded but fresh scars had been added to his face, a few nicks on his chin, cheek, and forehead, but they didn’t take away from his handsome appearance. He’d been wearing a red sleeveless hoodie, that showed off his muscular arms and a sleeve of ink that started from his right wrist, up the entirety of his arm, and disappeared under the hoodie no-doubt covering his right pec with a decorative tattoo, along with some plain black cargo shorts. His hair was spiked in the front and the rest flowed down his back in a mullet of sorts. She hadn’t realized she bad been silently staring at him in awe until he cleared his throat, asking if she was alright. Weirdly enough, she felt comfortable enough to answer him honestly, along with thanking him for saving her life. Unexpectedly, a cocky grin spread across his face and an idea came to mind.

“I’ve got other ways you can thank me, lil’ diamond.”

Next thing she knows, Red Riot aka Hero Killer 2.0 is mumbling some name that starts with a ‘K’ and a portal of purple smoke suddenly forms beside them out of thin air. Poor girl is basically kidnapped right then and there, but who woulda thunk Red Riot wanted a reward for taking down another hero and that reward just happened to be the lil’ milf who’d just dropped from the sky (or destroyed apartment building more specifically).

Don’t worry though, he may be a villain but he’s sweet and kind when he wants to be. And that includes taking care of you and your kid. Just like any normal abductee you question this motives and why’s he suddenly taken you from your home. He easily corrects you, saying that your home no longer existed and it was the manly thing to do to offer his surface to provide for you until you were able to get back on your feet.

(insert that one Soulja Boy audio where he says ‘HUH?!’ hella loud)

Why in the flying fuck would this man offer to take care of you? He had to have some kind of objective. But… to your surprise, he didn’t. In fact, you were free to leave whenever you wanted, and he made that clear.

Much to your surprise, Red Riot didn’t live in the LoV headquarters, he lived by himself in his own lil’ cabin in the woods that could easily fit a family or two. It was strange. You were thankful that he saved you and your baby’s life, but he was still a villain. A really, really handsome one at that. After his oh-so-caring suggestion, he mentioned if you wanted him to he would drive you back to the city and drop you off wherever you wanted to go. You dunno how it happened exactly but he’d been holding your baby while he was speaking to you, rocking the sleeping infant in his arms like he was their biological father. How was this man so fucking charismatic and sweet to you? He HAD to have some kind of ulterior motive.

Spoiler alert: yes, yes he did, but not the one you would expect from him.

Y’see… he’s always wanted a family. And here you were, dropped right into arms for the taking, and you didn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon, so he was going to use this opportunity.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into a month. And just as he promised, he took you out the house whenever you wanted and asked you each and every time if you wanted to be left in the city after your daily adventures (shopping and shit y’know, yes this man goes grocery shopping). But you always went back to his cabin with him, each and every time. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? No… couldn’t be, he openly told you to leave if you wanted to, then did that mean you were falling for the rugged mass-murdering villian? Looks that way.

As expected, the developing relationship between the three of you was not normal in the least, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d even introduced you to some of his buddies from LoV, only the ones he trusted tbh, and after that— you now had some willing and ready babysitters on call whenever you two needed.

Who wouldn’t abuse this opportunity? After some time convincing you, Red Riot, who had disclosed to you his real name was Eijirou Kirishima, managed to get you to go on a real date with him with just the two of you. And soooooo, ya did.

Who knew a villain could be so romantic? Certainly not you. He’d wined and dined you like his life depended on it and you were now putty in his hands. Perfect. The real games could begin.

He’s called a driver to take you both home and before you know it, Eijirou’s carrying you over the threshold like the two of you had just said ‘I Do.’

cracks knuckles

Now, this is where the real fun begins.

Red Riot, the hero-killing, tall, muscular, BDE, long-haired, thick-thighed, scarred, tattooed, smiling, thieving, hardening villain… has a breeding kink. And not just that, he’s got a big fucking dick that’s usually impressively hidden behind his usual wardrobe of loose fitting pants. But, you’ve seen him adjust himself more than a few times when he thinks you’re not paying attention, but you’re sure he just does it subconsciously without even realizing.

So there’s no real surprise when he’s dropped you onto your shared bed after a date and you can see the imprint of it through the black slacks he chose to wear. You coulda swore you saw the fuckin’ thing throbbin’ through the fabric but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

He’s now staring you down, noticing how your eyes have stayed glued to his crotch, with a timid look with some worry hidden behind your eyes. He grins and decides to have a little show for you. You’re struck back into reality when he suddenly grabs it, giving it a lil’ squeeze and a tug, causing your thighs to rub together in anticipation.

“No need to be nervous. It ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. Promise.”

He purred, stroking his cock a few for times for you through his pants before moving his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“Think you could strip for me, mamas? I like that dress on ya… Think I’d rip it to shreds if I tried to take it off.”

Sweet fuck, when’d you become so obedient???

Before you know it, you’re both naked and on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the comforter or the sheets. Seems you two were impatient.

Eijirou was splayed out on his back, cock on fully display as it rested against his stomach that wasn’t exactly chiseled with abs, it was a lil’ squishy but the muscles in his arms and chest were hard to ignore. And would ya look at that, you were right, he did have a nagasode and hikae style tattoo with a dragon, flowers, and other symbols. His monstrous cock was almost teasing you with its ridiculous width and length, how was that going to fit in you? With its thick tanned shaft, and its fat brink pink circumcised tip that was dribbling precum despite being only half erect. The happy trail that led to a trimmed bush of onyx hair made you think about the hyped mane of hair on his head.

He’d decided to leave the gel out of his hair this evening so the bright crimson locks flowed in waves under his head… what kinda conditioner did this man use? Them locks shiny as a muhh’fucka- No, no, no, don’t get distracted.

Where were you?

He’d had you sitting on his chest, beckoning you to straddle his face with your thighs, and when you hesitated he took matters into his own hands and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you right onto his face.

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier that he’d got a forked tongue…? Y’know, the kinda tongue a snake has… He kinda got into a bit of body modification after dropping out of U.A.

And the way he uses his forked tongue on you is heavenly. So heavenly, that you nearly hunch over and run away from his skilled tongue, whining and whimpering his name, pathetically asking him to calm down and give you some time to adjust. The iron grip on your hips forces you stay right where he wants you, thick digits easily sinking themselves into your plush hips like memory foam. He’s absolutely ravishing you with the rapid fire motions of his tongue, writing out every Hiragana symbol in the charts, observing how you react to every trace of ever symbol. And when he draws out that one symbol, his tongue acting as a brush drenched in ink and your pussy acting as the paper, he notices the way you shudder and let out a guttural moan, clenching at his hair hard enough to make his scalp burn just a fraction— he smirks, abusing this new power.

ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.

Ironically, the symbol that makes you shudder and silently scream sounds a bit like laughter, and laughter you shall receive. It is the best medicine after all.

Abusing this particular symbol, it is no surprise that the hardening villian soon rips an orgasm right out of your body, the searing heat that builds up inside you releasing into his mouth as you squeeze his head between your thick thighs.

Easily, Eijirou laps up your sweet nectar while groaning about how sweet and delectable you are, and gives you a moment to collect yourself, hearing the sweet pants and huffs that escape you as he rubs comforting circles onto your hips. That won’t last long, however.

“Think ya can cum on my tongue a few more times, lovely? Gotta make sure you’re slippery enough to bounce on my cock a lil’ later after all, hm? Be a good girl f’me, ya know ya can.”

my bad, my bad… went a lil’ crazy on this one 🧍 do with this as you please, aLsO i had an urge to draW hIm but i haven’t colored the lineart yet 😩 ill show ya when im doNe

You’ve been reduced to nothing but a whining, whimpering mess on the redhead’s tongue. He’s flipped and twisted your aching body so many times to get you in the perfect position, but nothing beats that good ole spread eagle.

Your hero turned villainous lover has both of those big hands holding you wide open for him, fingertips sunk into your plush flesh.

One knee is flush against the bed, the other is up against your chest, leaving nothing hidden from his fiery gaze. Your pretty pussy is his to abuse, at the mercy of that dexterous tongue and those razor sharp teeth.

Your moans and sounds are so cute to him, so pretty he wants nothing more than to keep fucking you on that long tongue.

You peer down at the beast between your thighs and the sight has you immediately tossing your head back, a breathy sigh passing through your lips.

Eijirou looks so precious—crimson eyes hooded and low, the thin sheen of your slick spread around his mouth while he licked and sucked you to another release.

‘Cu-cumming.’ Is how you’ll warn him before your pussy is creaming around that tongue again. You’re so sensitive, clit so swollen and red even the waft of his breath hurts.

But Eiji loves seeing you squirm, so much that he’s lathering your poor clit in spit, sucking the nub into his mouth just to hear you squeal as you claw at the sheets.

“Ei, p-please baby.” You’re begging, pleading for just an ounce of mercy from your lover’s tongue.

He raises his head to look up at you, or what’s left of you, granting a brief intermission as he flips you onto your belly.

He’s palming the fat of your ass, spreading you until he’s face to face with your delicious cunt and puckered asshole, his moistened lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

He loves this. He loves you and your perfect fucking pussy so much that tonight he plans on making you a mommy again. As soon as you cum for him one more time he plans to split you open and breed you.

“Just one more pretty girl, I promise.”

It’s nice to meet youuu, I love your work 🥺❤️Villian Kiri makes my pussy brain melt 🥹 I hate that it’s so short but I’m writing like 4 other one shots and my brain is a can of baked beans right now 😭

Hey bae, care to join us? @darkmajesty-xo

#kirishima smut #villain kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

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nhasablogg · 11 months

Text

Soft

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Steve/Eddie

Summary: Steve realizes he’s gotten softer after he’s stopped playing sports. It’s not necessarily a problem until he starts overthinking it.

Warnings: Mentions of body issues.

Words: 1.2k

Once Steve finished high school and stopped playing sports, his body became softer. It didn’t bother him, really. In fact he barely noticed it, his days of admiring himself in the mirror overshadowed by monsters and the video store. And the difference wasn’t glaringly obvious to anyone, even to him, unless he paid attention.

He only started paying attention once he started sleeping with Eddie, and it was only because Eddie was obsessed with touching his belly.

“You’re so ticklish,” he would tease when the skin jumped beneath his hand, and Steve would whine because he was ticklish, dammit, and Eddie wasn’t making it easier for him to not be a giggly, squirmy mess every other night.

It was one of those nights, when Eddie was just beginning his daily torment of Steve’s sensitive spots, that Steve noticed how his stomach jiggled under his touch. “Wait,” he said, and Eddie must’ve heard a difference in his tone because he withdrew his hand immediately.

Steve poked his own midriff, the flesh softer than he’d ever really seen it before. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just-” He knew it was no big deal, really. Knew he was mostly just losing muscles, knew there was nothing wrong with being chubby or fat anyway. But Steve wasn’t good with change, and Steve had never really thought of his body as anything other than something women (and apparently men) wanted. And in line of the standards he’d grown up with, women (and men? he was less sure) wanted muscles and fitness and confidence (at least that was what he’d been told), and Steve wondered if he could keep his confidence if he couldn’t keep his muscles.

He pulled his shirt down and Eddie didn’t pry, didn’t try to touch his belly again, but did open his arms to let Steve crawl into them.

As he buried his face in Eddie’s neck, one of his ticklish spots, he wondered why it mattered what other people thought when Eddie had only really seen and therefore loved this version of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his skin, and Eddie, who had huffed out a laugh only seconds before as Steve was still adjusting against his throat, probably knew he wasn’t apologizing for the accidental tickle.

“Talk to me when you’re ready,” he said, fingertips ghosting over Steve’s spine, making him shiver. He wondered if his sides were getting softer too. If his thighs and arms had lost any definition.

“I’m having a stupid crisis over losing muscle.”

Eddie was silent for a moment before saying, “Losing muscle?”

“Or gaining weight, but I think losing muscle sounds more logical to have a crisis over.”

“Oh.” Eddie dragged out the word and his throat vibrated against Steve’s face. “I see. Okay.”

Steve whined as Eddie forced them to sit up again. “We don’t have to do this now.”

“Oh, yes, we do before you make this into a bigger thing without meaning to. Okay. Talk to me. You think you’ve gained weight?”

“Well, I’m softer-” He gestured to his body. “-everywhere. Which is fine, I get it, I don’t really do anything but shelve movies nowadays and occasionally run from monsters. It’s fine.”

“You don’t sound like you’re fine.” Eddie had said it so softly, head tilted, eyes looking at him as if it pained him to hear this.

Steve swallowed, suddenly on the verge of fucking tears. “I-” His voice broke off. God, this was embarrassing. “I’m fine not being Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, you know. I’m fine being seen as a loser who hangs out with kids and people who this town will consider misfits. Someone who will live and die in this town, having lost my status. I’m fine with it.”

“Steve.”

“But I think my body was the only thing I had left from when I was considered a god, that’s all. It’s stupid. It’s selfish. I don’t even want to go back to those days because I’m actually happy now, with you.” He looked away when he said the last part. Even though Eddie knew exactly how he felt about him Steve still found it difficult to be vulnerable like that. Which was also stupid.

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie said, reaching out to tap at his knee. “Lots has changed for you the past year. It’s always the smallest thing that makes you spiral, right?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And change is scary, I get that.”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

Steve huffed. “I feel stupid.”

“Stop saying that.” Eddie went to poke at his belly before he caught himself, and Steve was faced with the uncomfortable revelation that he actually wanted the tickle.

One discovery at a time, please, universe.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, withdrawing his hand.

“It’s okay.” Steve could just say nothing about it. He was certain Eddie wouldn’t stop doing it after this anyway. “It’s okay,” he said again, looking down.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie said, hand on his knee again. “I love that you’re soft.”

Steve hummed, unable to keep his blush at bay. “Stop.”

“What, you don’t want to hear how much I love your body?” Eddie scooted closer, lacing his arms around him. “How much I adore how well your sides curve in my hands? The sounds you make when I kiss down your chest and trail my fingers over your ribs. How ridiculously ticklish you are and how you never really try to get away.”

Ah. Steve was the last to make the discovery as usual then.

Eddie pulled him closer, lips against his cheek. “Do you want me to continue? Or-” He pulled back to smirk at him. “-do you want me to demonstrate?”

“You’re so mean for asking.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Demonstrate it is, then. See this?” Eddie curled his fingers over Steve’s tummy. “I love how soft it is. It feels so nice to tickle you here. To kiss you. I don’t know what it is, but you have some sort of limit. Once I pass it you don’t seem as ticklish, and I can kiss you as much as I want.”

Steve, in the midst of the burning blush on his face, realized he knew exactly what limit Eddie was talking about. What Eddie didn’t know was that it usually did tickle still, but Steve was too consumed with desire to care. Maybe he even liked that it still tickled a little. Maybe that was part of it.

“Stop,” Steve said, pushing his hand away.

“Why?”

“Tickles.”

“Mm, but you don’t mind that, do you?”

Jesus. Did this man notice everything?

Eddie ran a finger down the side of his stomach. “It’s a good thing,” he said. “Because I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t allowed to touch you there.”

“You got some kind of fetish or somethin’?”

Eddie burst into laughter. “Way to ruin a moment, Steve.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I get, uh-”

“Embarrassed? Yeah, I can tell.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Eddie poked him, just below that spot on his ribs that made him scream if it was tickled for long enough. “But just to finish off, I like every part of you, soft or firm, ticklish or not. Though most of you is ticklish, so I guess I don’t know about the latter.”

“You’re this close to getting banned from touching my stomach for the next week.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Liar.” Eddie grinned at him and Steve huffed, turning away because, no, he wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t.

#tickling #steddie #steddie fic #ticklish!steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #n writes #soft

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wisteria-cherry · 6 months

Text

forty days and forty nights (day thirty-five!)

(i always feel like

somebody’s watching me🤩)

the previous night’s incident had shaken you, shaken you to the point where you’d considered taking the day off. however, you were excited to see katsuki again, and you figured he was excited to see you.

“i’m tired.” you remark as you watch katsuki swirl around the last drops of coffee, catching the coffee grounds with it.

“you work in a coffee shop. take advantage of it, dumbass.” katsuki clicked his tongue.

“i did. i just finished a cup.” you roll your eyes as he shifted on the notably worn-in bar stool.

“then you shouldn’t be tired.”

“too bad.”

you pause, glancing at the clock.

“i wanna sleep tonight, kats. i can’t have anymore coffee. ‘sides, it’s time for me to go.” katsuki stood up.

“i’ll walk ya home. c’mon, loser.” katsuki grumbled.

“okay.” you smile. you didn’t bother protesting, not since last night.

you close as quickly as you can, making sure to be thorough as you did, not wanting to burden whoever would open the next day. you walk alongside katsuki until you reach the door. you let katsuki go out first. part of it was because you had to lock the door behind you, but you couldn’t deny the selfish part of you that wanted him to go out first in case the stalker was there. and although there was no excuse to your actions, you couldn’t deny that he had a better shot at fighting the stalker than you did. you found yourself being somewhat quiet on the walk home. you’d managed to get katsuki to rant, which was always entertaining. this time, it was about that dumbass deku and how he thinks he’s so perfect.

when you finally reached your apartment, goodbyes were exchanged, and almost immediately you went to bed, exhausted by the previous day’s events.

however, later that night, your eyes open instantly and you listen closely. you swore you’d heard a sound. some sort of cross between a bang and a clatter. it sounded like someone had hit your window. you groan under your breath, turning over in your bed to face the window and see if it was actually anything.

your blood ran cold.

it was him.

it was the same man who’d been in the alleyway.

he was there, staring, staring into you.

you blink, unable to do anything else, unable to move your body. the man wasn’t there. you quickly turn back over in your bed. you must have imagined it.

why can’t i just forget about yesterday? you think frustratedly. so stupid. now i’m losing sleep over it.

you pull out your phone, turning the brightness all the way down, not wanting anyone to see it despite being alone. you unlock it, opening the call app. you tapped katsuki’s number, opening his contact info. your finger hovered over the call button. did you dare?

no, you couldn’t involve katsuki in this. it’s not his problem; he’s busy enough as a pro hero.

a pro hero.

he has the capacity to help you, right?

you click the call button, but instantly hang up. not tonight. he didn’t need to be woken up just because you thought you saw someone. you probably didn’t even see anyone. it was probably a trick of the light. you were just tired.

you were just tired.

hey, katsuki, you recited silently, lips barely moving. sorry to bother you so late. i’m scared right now. i wish you were here, i wish you were here so much. you continued to mouth apologies to katsuki. you never did call him. but it helped. somewhat.

“i’m tired.”

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

tags: @k0z3me @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafayesworld

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo oneshot #coffee shop au #pro hero bakugo x reader

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phading · 1 month

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Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”. I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #phading

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spreadyovrwings · 3 months

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64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it’s more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: obscene flirting... characters realising their life has more to it than their job? other characters learning other people aren't quite so scary and can be trusted? those two characters fancying each other like crazy? yeah.

Chapter Nine

Steam billowed from the kettle’s spout. You watched it swell and curl through the air, until it hit the low kitchen ceiling and dispersed. On the mantelpiece, your grandmother’s carriage clock chimed ten.

It was the longest you’d been able to sleep in in years. Though you’d been trying to cast your mind back all morning as you set about making breakfast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been able to go to bed without setting an alarm.

Though the days were growing steadily warmer as summer rolled in, mornings were still cold in your little flat. You tucked your chin under the collar of your thick woollen jumper and puffed out a breath to warm your body.

It had not been a good week.

It’s difficult to anticipate how one might react in a situation like yours. You thought if someone had asked you a few months ago what you might say if given life-altering news like the kind Gladys had given you, you probably would’ve said you’d rage and eff and blind until the problem righted itself. You’d go out fighting, at least. But when Gladys set off her grenade, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at her. You stared and stared, and stared some more.

It didn’t take long for you to find your voice, though. Not after Gladys started to describe the whole ordeal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, it was like watching someone in confession. Her open mouth was like a gutter, gushing words and apologies and useless explanations until finally, you couldn’t take anymore.

“You selfish cow!”

John came into the room when the shouting started. Mickey was close behind. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, it must have been Mickey because the hand was heavy and solid like a slab of concrete.

“Skip…”

John slipped his fingers between yours, trying to bring you back down to Earth, but you barely felt him.

“How could you do this to us? To Mickey? To me?”

Gladys covered her face with her hands, her chunky rings glinting in the low lights.

“I’m sorry!”

“He’s just had a baby!”

“I know, I know-”

“This is my home!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t think in a million years he would-”

You stopped listening. John was murmuring close to your ear, telling you to stop now. His long fingers were wrapped tight around yours, keeping you grounded but only just.

“Sweetheart, leave her,” he murmured. “You should get some air. Just come with me and breathe for a second. Please.”

But that didn’t sound like a reasonable option either. You didn’t want to go outside. You didn’t want to keep having this conversation either. Standing here, shouting at Gladys, that was the only thing that made sense.

“How could you be so stupid.”

The words barely made it out from between your gritted teeth.

You felt John’s hand leave yours. Mickey too took a step back. They both seemed to realise this wasn’t their fight, this wasn’t something they had a right to be involved in, even though they were grieving too.

Gladys was the brightest, most joyous person you knew. She flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. With her brightly coloured hair and her clattering jewellery, she was as dazzling on the outside as she was on the inside. But right now, she seemed to have shrunk a few inches. Her colour had dulled. Her light had gone out.

“I just thought he was interested in me,” Gladys looked down at the floor, ashamed. “No one’s ever been interested in me. And he seemed so eager to learn about the bakery and I thought- I thought maybe he was just proud of me. For building this place. For doing something so amazing on my own. But I was wrong.”

You could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck and the base of your skull. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry and let down in all your life. Time seemed to be rushing by you, and all you wanted was for John to hold your hand again.

Gladys still couldn’t look at you. In a way, you were relieved. You didn’t think you’d be able to meet her gaze either.

It was difficult to order the feelings surging through you. You loved Gladys. You owed her so much. You’d do anything for her and until today, you would have sworn she’d always put you, or at least Oslo Square, above all else. Despite everything, she was a good person. You knew that. She was enticing and gregarious and too trusting and a fool. And she had let you down for the last time.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you said, then turned and walked into the kitchen, through the back door and out into the alley.

But you didn’t get far. You never would.

Sinking down on the bakery’s back step, you folded your knees up to your body and prayed the pressure would take the ache away. It didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that lay in wait in the back of your throat.

Sun filtered through into the alleyway, falling on the ground in puddles of light. Above you, the sky was so clear, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

There was a sound behind you, the scuff of a boot against the cement steps. You pushed your face into your crossed arms, not ready to face anyone just yet.

“Skip?”

It was John. Of course it was. Who else would they send after you?

He called you by your nickname again, then as he came to sit beside you, your real name, softer, more intimate.

Finally, you raised your head.

He was looking at you closely, his clever eyes switching across your face. He was trying to work out how upset you were, how carefully he needed to tread around you. That was just his way, John was just being a good friend, but right now, you didn't want kindness and gentleness, you just wanted to be left alone.

“John, I think maybe…”

“It’s going to be alright.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt. Usually, John weighed every word with care, as if each syllable would cost him a great deal, or he had a finite number at his disposal. You had always admired that about him; everyone else in your life spoke so carelessly, like it didn't matter at all.

“John…”

“C’mon,” he said, nodding now, like he’d made up his mind about something. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll-”

You wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed gently, asking him to stop without a word. John looked so crestfallen, you couldn’t bear it.

You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would help to keep the sickness sitting in your throat at bay.

“I think maybe you should go home,” you said as gently as you could. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

John looked surprised, then a little hurt. It shouldn’t have annoyed you but it did a little. He had no idea what you were going through, he should just listen and know that when you said you needed some time, you meant it.

But the small part of your brain that could still think clearly knew that wasn’t fair. If the roles were reversed, as they had been before, you knew you would badger John relentlessly until he was forced to talk about whatever was bothering him. But this wasn’t about an exam or a tiff with his band, this was your whole life, your whole future, and it had wrenched from your grasp without you even knowing it

“Okay.” John slowly rose to his feet, his hands awkwardly moving from his pockets to his hips, behind his back and then to his pockets again. “I’ll come see you. Later.”

You nodded, your lips pulled back in a grim smile.

“I’ll call you,” you said again firmly.

For a moment, John didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. Then finally, he seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… Be careful with yourself, darling.”

Then he was gone and you were alone again.

That was two days ago. You hadn’t left your lonely flat since.

You poured boiling water into your favourite mug, waited a few minutes, then added the milk. Your movements were robotic, rehearsed, the habit of a lifetime that required no thought at all, and thank God, as you didn’t have the energy to think or feel much of anything.

The phone rang again but you didn’t even spare it a glance as you padded back to your bedroom and closed the door.

Life went on like this for a few more days before finally, you decided to pull yourself together. You got dressed, headed downstairs, and debated whether or not to turn on the ovens.

Mickey hadn’t come into work since the news. You couldn’t blame him, he had a baby at home and a wife to reassure. You had no one. Just an empty flat and a cold, silent bakery. But even that wasn’t yours anymore. Mickey phoned often enough though, asking if there were any updates and if he could do anything to help. You wished you had something to tell him.

You looked around at the old kitchen. The multicoloured tiles from renovation after renovation, the cookers and the ovens, all older than half the buildings on the road, the pots and pans, bowls and utensils, all lying unused. They seemed to stare at you, waiting for answers, just like Mickey, just like the customers you watched from your window, who passed by every day and soon left again, looking disappointed and confused.

Yeah, you thought, me too.

You grabbed some paper from behind the till, scribble a quick note, then sellotaped it to the door.

Closed until further notice.

You stared at the sign, letting the words truly sink in, then turned and went to go hide yourself away upstairs.

Then the door chimed.

“Skip?”

You looked up, heart pounding. It had only been a few days, but it was the longest you’d gone without seeing John for the best part of a year.

You’d somehow forgotten how tall he was, how lanky and gangly he looked standing in the bakery doorway, his perfect, long hair a striking contrast to his shabby clothes.

He smiled at you, shy and unsure, and you wished you could do more than stare back.

“Hi,” John said as he carefully pushed open the door all the way and finally stepped inside.

As the door rang shut again, you gritted your teeth. You thought if he’d asked, if he’d given you the choice, you probably would’ve said that now wasn’t a good time and he should come back later.

“Hi,” you said instead, and watched him pocket the key Gladys had given him on his first day.

John looked at you like he was waiting for you to say more. You couldn’t blame him for that. You’d led every conversation you’d ever shared, guiding him and teasing him, wheedling information out of him with a fine hook. Now, you couldn’t for the life of you think of anything to say.

“You haven’t been answering the phone,” John said eventually. “I was worried.”

He cautiously approached the desk. Perhaps he’d only just noticed the thick tension in the air, or maybe he was just having trouble pushing through it, but he seemed to take careful steps, his eyes fixed on you.

“Well,” You tried not to sound huffy but it came out all wrong. “I’m kind of dealing with something right now. I don’t have time for…”

“What?”

He was challenging you, daring you to say more. You clammed up, feeling chastised.

“Did you talk to Gladys?”

You nodded.

You’d spent the last few days in meetings with your boss, discussing what had happened, trying to figure a way out of this mess, going over the details and again and again until you were both exhausted and resigned to the idea that this place was no longer yours. Everything that Gladys had built, everything you’d worked for, was gone.

“What did she say? What’s going on?”

John came closer until he could rest his hands on the counter. You stared at them, following the outline of each of his long fingers.

He really did have such lovely hands. The round onyx ring he wore on his little finger, the silver one he always took off and pocketed when he was helping out, because it was Freddie’s and he didn’t want to ruin it. The little scars from his childhood and faded burns from mucking about with machines. You’d missed them.

“Did you fix it?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“No.”

At home, you blankly stared at the ceiling, at the television screen, into the mirror. It had slowly begun to dawn on you that outside of 64 Oslo Square, you had nothing. Friends you saw once in a blue moon, no hobbies, no interests, no idea of what the future would hold. Everything, you’d put everything into the bakery, your whole life. In just a few weeks, you’d even have to find a new flat. Everything was falling apart.

“There has to be something we can do. She’s made a mistake.”

“I know.”

“C’mon, love. We can sort this out.”

It was too much. It was just all too much. You didn’t want to hear positivity and hopefulness, you didn’t want anyone to be kind to you, especially John, not after the way you’d pushed him away. You didn’t want gentleness and softness, because it meant he thought something had happened to warrant that care, and you didn’t want to be someone who needed looking after. You didn’t want to be someone that had had something so awful happen to them.

“I can’t do this.”

You pushed away from the counter and moved into the kitchen, heading for the door to your flat. All you wanted was to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. Compartmentalism had got you nowhere, not when one of the best things about your job had turned up out of the blue asking you a million questions and caring about you far more than you deserved.

You didn’t expect John to follow you, but you heard his boots clunking against the kitchen floor, his voice soft and low as he called out again,

“Skip?”

You bit back a sob. You weren’t Skip anymore. You weren’t the captain of anything. You had no bakery, no business, no prospects, you were just- You were nothing.

“Leave me alone.”

You tried to sound forceful but the words got caught in your throat.

“Love, please-”

John was right behind you as you wrenched open the door up to your flat. You could hear his stupid boots on the stairs.

“John, I can’t-”

“Just talk to me.”

“You don’t understand!”

You stopped in the middle of the stairs and span around. It must have taken John by surprise because he staggered to a halt, one foot hanging in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of a step.

“In a month, I won’t have a home or a job, and this place will be packed up and turned into luxury flats or some half-arsed storefront selling overpriced street food to bastards like him, and I won’t have anything.”

It was as if someone else was doing the talking. You could almost believe you were standing beside yourself, watching as you shouted at John, your eyes shining and your jaw tight. You wanted to tell yourself to stop, that he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that, but you couldn’t close the floodgates.

“And you, you’ll swan off with your band or pack it in and become an engineer, and you’ll forget all about us and this place, and I’ll never see you again.”

John’s eyes flashed but his expression was as neutral and measured as ever.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said evenly. “You really think that little of me?”

“Oh, shut up, I was only-”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You don’t get to decide how much I care about something. Alright?”

“Why would you care? You’re just the delivery boy. Some student Gladys took pity on cos she can’t resist strays.”

“I love this place too, you know I do. Things aren’t as easy for me as you think.”

You scoffed. It annoyed you that he could be so rational and calm at a time like this, when all you wanted to do was shout and accuse and lash out.

“Oh, poor John. It must be so hard for you, being a genius and having to choose between being rich and famous and being a bloody rocket scientist, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Life must be so difficult.”

Finally, John scowled. He moved closer, so now he was on the step just below yours, your faces level for the first time.

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“You’re so- I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone!”

“Oh, well lucky me.”

“God, you’re-”

“What?”

“You’re…”

John trailed off. He seemed to realise, at the same time as you, just how close you were to each other.

You waited, hardly daring to breathe. John was maybe a few inches away, his chin tilted up ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze. His pretty, silvery green eyes were fixed on yours, as if to make a point. You were fighting the same urge, to not look down at his lips, angled so perfectly up towards you, it was enough to make your chest lurch.

Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, you watched as John’s gaze finally slipped and he glanced down at your mouth. Surrender. You followed immediately, and felt time speed up again. You caught your breath. Your heart was hammering so hard, you were sure John must’ve been able to hear it, feel it.

John’s gaze dropped again and stayed for longer this time, very obviously debating something that terrified and excited you all at once. It was just a matter of who would give in first.

“We’re not going to kiss,” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “Not like…”

You made the mistake of letting your eyes fall to his lips again, one last time. They parted ever so slightly, an invitation, like he was asking you to give in and take what you’d been wanting for so long. You pressed your lips together and immediately regretted it. You’d given yourself away.

The corner of John’s mouth twitched up into a little smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You said some horrible things to me.”

You pulled in a lungful of air and closed your eyes. The moment was gone, but it still took you a second or two to get your feet back on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed and dizzy all at once. “I was being stupid.”

John shrugged.

“Just because it was hurtful doesn’t mean it wasn’t accurate.”

“Still, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry, John. It’s been a fucking awful week.”

He smiled to let you know he understood. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth again, just for a second, but you couldn’t have missed it.

“Not like what?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“You said ‘We’re not going to kiss. Not like…’. Not like what?” John raised his eyebrows. “Not like this, you mean?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spoken those words out loud. It was jarring to hear John repeat them back to you, and even more surprising to realise that’s exactly what you meant.

You nodded.

“Not like this.”

This wasn’t the right time, as much as it pained you. He was so close, looking up at you so sweetly, telling you how much he cared about you and that he just wanted to help. But John was right, you’d been horrible to him, and you were so sad you could barely breathe. When you did kiss him, you wanted it to be right, you wanted it to be good, you wanted to make the world stop turning.

John nodded, looking down at his ridiculous shoes. When he looked up again, his gaze still lingered antagonistically around your mouth. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

“When then?”

“What?”

“When can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“When you get me my bakery back.”

John grinned. He had such a lovely smile, so bright and honest.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Promise?”

John crossed his index finger over his heart.

“Promise.”

You beamed at each other. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, like nothing was wrong, or could ever be wrong. Because John was here and he was smiling at you, and he wanted to kiss you and knew you wanted to kiss him. But then reality slowly seeped in, harsh and so cold, it made you shiver.

“It’s hopeless, John,” you murmured, and pressed your face into your palms.

John wrapped his long fingers around your forearms and squeezed gently. When he carefully pulled your hands away from your face, you saw he was smiling sweetly.

“Shall I stick the kettle on?” he asked.

You’d never heard anything more romantic in your life.

You led him up the stairs to your flat and let him make you a cup of tea, while you sat on the sofa and watched him move around in the kitchen.

It was only tiny. Even ‘kitchen’ was a generous word, it was just the two sideboards, the hob and some cupboards set into the wall, but John moved around them as if he’d lived there all his life, and you were, once again, assured that he was fated to be 64 Oslo Square’s delivery boy.

“I was thinking about finding a flat. For after uni.” John handed you a mug and sat down beside you. “You could, um… Maybe I could start looking now and… You know, obviously we don’t know when things will… But I could look and…”

You blinked at him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

John’s cheeks were tinged pink.

“I just want you to know you have options. I know you’re going to figure this out, but I want you to know you have somewhere safe to stay.”

Your chest squeezed as a wave of affection washed over you. How did you ever get so lucky? It was a small relief, in a way, to know that no matter what happened, you had a friend in John. The idea of moving into a flat together felt unreal right now. The more you pondered on it, the more the severity of your situation seemed to settle in.

“There’s nothing to figure out, John.” You sighed. “Gladys signed the paperwork. You know, she didn’t even really understand what she was signing? He got her drunk then pushed the papers across the table and told her he wanted to invest in the bakery, she just had to sign. Daft cow.”

“How’s Mickey taking it?”

“He’s alright. He’s a fantastic baker, he could find a job anywhere.”

“So could you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re joking. Everything you make is incredible! And you’re passionate and you’re dedicated… You could find somewhere else. Maybe start your own place someday.”

You laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment. His faith in you was flattering. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.

You reached out and took John’s hand, folding your fingers between his and interlocking them, as if you’d done it a million times before.

“You’re so sweet. But I can’t.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I started working here when I was sixteen. Have I told you that?”

John shook his head.

“I used to pass by on my way to school. Me and my friends would come in every Friday. And every day, Gladys was there, behind the counter. And she was mad and funny and she let us stay all afternoon, even though we only had enough money for a cuppa and a cake. And when I left school, there was one place I wanted to work.”

You looked up at the photo of you, Gladys and Mickey on your mantelpiece. Your tiny, ridiculous, mismatched family.

“I was just behind the counter at first, like you. But it was fun, it was a living. Then Shaz, the head baker back then, she started letting me help out. I loved it so much. The time things took. The attention to detail. The warmth of the kitchen. And it’s stressful but it’s full of love. You know? Everything we make is…”

You squeezed John’s hand again.

“When you see people smiling because of the things you make… It’s the best feeling in the world. I asked if I could start working as a baker and Gladys agreed, and even knocked a bit off the price of this place.”

Together, you looked around at your tiny flat. It wasn’t much but it was home, it was yours. You’d never had anything that was just yours before, and you couldn’t stress it enough, the importance of having space, having ownership, a room of one’s own, especially for a working class woman in 1973, especially for someone making it on their own.

“This is my home, John. And these people, they’re my family. I had nothing and the bakery gave me a purpose. I can’t just find somewhere else. I can’t. I can’t. It’s Oslo Square or nothing.”

John watched you for a moment, and you wondered if maybe you’d bored him with your outpouring. You wouldn’t be shocked. But then he raised your interlocked hands and held them to his chest.

“I’ll get it back for you. I promise.”

You laughed softly. He’d surprised you yet again.

“Where did you come from, New Boy? You really are an angel, aren’t you.”

“I don’t know about that.” John shyly glanced away. “The bakery means a lot to me too now. I want to help. If I can.”

Was it too early to revise your ‘no kissing’ policy? You really wanted to kiss him. Actually, kissing John would probably fix most of your problems. Or, at the very least, make them much easier to deal with. God, you could probably make him moan with just a kiss, you could tell from looking at him that he’d be a noisy one. Or maybe he’d lay you back on the couch and run those stupidly big hands all over you, playing you like one of his instruments. You wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Skip?”

You blinked. John was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” You gave him a wonky sort of a grin. “Just a bit tired, I think.”

John didn’t look like he believed you but he let you off the hook.

“I think you need to get out of the house.”

You had to agree. Aside from nipping to the shops for the essentials, you hadn’t left your flat since Gladys’ news.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, actually,” John said guiltily. “I have to meet the lads at three. I wondered if you wanted to come.”

“To watch you rehearse?”

“It’ll probably be really boring for you, but you’ll get to see a few arguments. And we can get lunch first or dinner after or… I don’t mind, I just want you with me.” John blushed. “But you can say no, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed softly. He really was the sweetest boy alive.

“I’d love to, John.”

That afternoon, Queen were rehearsing in a studio space in South London. John was tempted to grab the tube but you convinced him onto the bus, remembering, as you handed over your change to the driver, that he’d once admitted he was nervous about travelling that way. If he was going to be a proper Londoner, you thought, he had to learn how to use the buses, and the 49 seemed as good a place to start as any.

You watched John watch the world go by. He really was so beautiful and he had no clue. He had some semblance of an idea that he was alright, you knew that. The way John preened in front of every passing mirror told you so. But he didn’t see the lovely slope of his strong nose, or the way his grey eyes shone every time he saw something that piqued his interest, or the way his lovely, funny mouth twitched at the corners just before he was about to murmur something to you in that lovely, funny voice.

You’d tell him, you decided. Soon. You’d tell him just how beautiful you thought he was.

It was only when you followed John through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the recording studios that you began to feel nervous. You’d never been anywhere like that before, it was a foreign land.

As you passed, you peered through the porthole windows of every door to catch glimpses of steely grey microphones and mixing desks in big glass boxes. It was like something out of a film, something you’d only ever seen in magazines and photographs.

John seemed totally at ease. You supposed you were seeing him in his world for the first time. He would protest, he was a scientist, an engineer, he wasn’t a rockstar, but he was a musician, through and through. This world of dials and crossfades and endless electric cables suited him very well.

Eventually, he pushed open a door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to go in first.

The room was only small, probably all he and his friends could afford to hire by the hour. In the corner sat a shiny, black grand piano. Freddie tapped on the keys, humming under his breath as if building a tune just from a few plaintive notes. Next to that, there was a row of guitars all standing to attention, and a drum kit, steadily being put together to just the right requirements by Roger.

He looked up when the door opened.

“Hi, John. We were just saying-” Roger stopped in his tracks and immediately brightened when he saw you come in. “Bakery girl!”

“Hiya, Rog.”

You laughed as he came over to give you a big hug. It had been a while since you’d seen John, so it had been even longer since you saw his friends. You were sure Roger was only sweet to you because he knew it annoyed John but you were more than happy to play along.

John waited until Roger had gone back to his drum kit to stop frowning.

“Brian not here yet?” he asked, a little gruffly.

Freddie scoffed.

“He’s late. Again. He’s teaching somewhere in Balham. He’ll probably be hours, you know how he likes to bang on. You don’t play guitar, do you, love?”

You smiled shyly as Freddie also came over to greet you.

“No, sorry. Just the recorder in Year 3.”

“Ah, you’ll fit right in.”

Freddie beamed.

You didn’t know him as well as Roger but every time you saw Freddie, you practically tripped over yourself to befriend him. He was just so cool, so beautiful, his voice soft and his mannerisms so enchanting. He drew you in, just as he did the crowds when he was on stage, like a siren beckoning in beguiled ships.

“How are you doing?” Freddie held you by the shoulders as his soft dark eyes searched yours. “We’ve heard about this awful business with that twat. Andrew, was it?”

“Alastair.”

“That’s the bastard.” Freddie shook his head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You wondered how much John had told them. By all accounts, he wasn’t the most talkative of people. In fact, you were still getting used to how much he spoke now. If you compared the boy standing beside you to the boy who first anxiously walked into the bakery that cold January night, you would almost say they were completely different people.

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“Are you staying?” asked Roger.

You glanced at John and he shot you an encouraging smile.

“If it’s okay with you lot?”

“Make yourself at home!”

You found a seat off to the side, just behind John’s amp.

You couldn’t help staring, transfixed, as he got himself set up. You could watch his hands forever, the way his fingers slipped over the strings, how the instrument fit perfectly against his body. Even watching him plug in his bass was mesmerising. It all just seemed to come so naturally to John, as most things did. He really was wonderful.

Queen warmed up slowly, giving Brian more time to turn up, and as they did, they passed ideas back and forth to each other. It was like a foreign language. Musical terms, notes, lyrics, pacing, you didn’t understand any of it, though you loved to listen to the boys figure it all out together.

For the most part, Freddie and Roger talked back and forth, while John watched, thumbing pensively at the thickest string of his bass as he waited to play. But you noticed how they never decided anything without consulting John for the final say, and his word seemed to be gospel.

John looked back at you over his shoulder and shot you a rare confident smile. You just had time to blush before the door opened and Brian fell in, apologising and shaking his head so that his wild, dark curls danced.

Brian waved to you but didn’t waste any time chatting. He grabbed his guitar and struck up a chord that filled the room with that familiar, quintessentially them sound.

They were magic to watch. You couldn’t wait to see what they became.

Soon, Freddie started to complain that he needed a drink to soothe his raw voice, and Roger and Brian went with him. They asked if you and John wanted anything but you both declined quickly, eager to be alone together again.

As soon as the door shut behind them, John turned to you properly and smiled. He nodded down at his bass, asking wordlessly if you’d like to try.

Grinning, you nodded too, and tried not to look too pleased as he ducked out of the strap. John gently lifted it over your head, and you tried to keep still as he settled the bass against you. You’d never held a bass guitar before. You hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.

“Oof, wow.”

You rolled your shoulders back, adjusting your posture so that you could balance its weight better.

“I know,” John’s hands skirted over your shoulders, making sure the strap was sitting comfortably first before he came round to stand in front of you. “I’ll have a terrible back when I’m an old man, I’m sure of it.”

Trying to remember how his hands moved when you watched him play, you lifted your left hand and pressed the tip of your index finger against the first metal string. It was thick and strong, and indented your skin as you pressed down. You couldn’t imagine how he managed to play so quickly, so deftly. The instrument seemed ungainly and oversensitive to you.

“You make it look so easy.”

John just smiled.

It was nice to see him in his element, to see him confident and sure of himself. He’d had once told you that he only picked up the bass because his first band needed it. You found it hard to believe, John and the bass, they seemed made for each other.

“You’ve almost got it. Here.”

You held your breath as John moved to stand behind you again. His left hand came up to cover yours, gently twisting your wrist around so that it was positioned nicely under the neck. With his other hand, he plucked a few notes on the lowest string, then took your index finger between his and showed you how to curl it just right. You swallowed thickly, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear your shaky breaths.

“Feels funny,” John said as he watched you pluck out a few tentative notes. “Me teaching you something for once.”

Face hot, you just tried to concentrate on playing right.

“You’re a much better baker than I am a bassist.”

John moved closer to correct your left hand, and now his chest was pressed up against your back. You tensed, trying to keep as still as possible but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. All questions about whether he was doing it on purpose left your head when he spoke softly by your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“I don’t know,” John let his hand slip down your forearm, just as it did the neck of his bass, and tentatively let it rest just above your waist. “Looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”

You stopped attempting to play, it was pointless. You couldn’t so much as hold a thought in your head, let alone carry a tune. You turned your head to the side until you could just see John out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ve taught me a lot, you know,” John went on. “Not just the baking. You’ve made me much braver.”

His big hand felt heavy against your side. You were suddenly hyper aware of the slightest movement of each of his fingers. While his other arm was slung across the body of the bass, his fingers tucked underneath it to support its weight, the fingers of his left hand pressed into your soft waist ever so slightly and you had to hold back a gasp. You were touching so much, it was insane, you could barely remember your own name.

“I think I just bullied you into talking more.”

Your voice was shaky and low. You knew John would catch it but you didn’t care. You were too busy thinking about how warm his chest felt against your back, and how if you angled your hips just right, you could sink back into him until his hips were fitted against your arse. Then John spoke again, so close now that it felt like his lips were close to brushing your neck

“I’m glad you did.”

You could practically feel him smile against your skin as he added,

“You’re good for me, I think.”

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head a little further, and John shifted around so that you could meet each other’s gaze properly.

His confidence seemed to slip the moment he knew you could see him, but the hand that rested heavily on your waist slipped down to your hip and squeezed.

“I think you’re good for me too,” you said, and smiled when John blushed under your gaze.

There was no space between you at all. Just one move, one inclination of your head, one press of John’s hand, and you’d be in his arms, your fingers in his lovely hair, your mouth pressed against his with only the bass between you, and suddenly the worst week of your life would be over.

You had just the wherewithal to realise how wrong you’d been. You thought you were alone, you thought you had no life outside of the bakery, but here you were, in the arms of the sweetest boy you’d ever known, listening to his band create some of the best music you’d ever heard, and John truly believed everything would be okay. Maybe you ought to trust him.

John let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, as if he too was nervous and excited and uncertain all at once. How sweet it was to know he felt exactly what you were feeling.

“What you said about, erm, no kissing till I’ve got your bakery back,” John murmured, his pretty eyes fixed unashamedly on your mouth. “Is that a… Is that a hard and fast rule? Or more like a suggestion?”

You smiled, and watched John’s adam’s apple bob in his lovely throat.

“What do you think, pretty boy?”

It was very clear from the look in John’s eyes what he thought about that. He bent his head, slowly and with great consideration, just like with everything he did, until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You felt your eyes close without you needing to think about it, your lips parting as you heard John say,

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting t-”

“Oh, have we got a new bassist? Lovely.”

Your eyes snapped open in time to see Freddie swoop into the room with a drink in his hand. He was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, love. You’ll look much better in the costumes.”

John begrudgingly moved away but he was smiling to himself. Caught. When his hands left you, it felt like all the air had come rushing back into the room.

The boys chatted as they filed back in, passing around ideas and thoughts on the next show, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.

John stayed close. You couldn’t be more relieved. After today, after this week, you never wanted him to move out of arm’s reach again.

“Thanks for today,” you whispered to him, when you were sure the others wouldn’t hear you. “I needed this.”

John shrugged, then carefully helped you out from under his bass. He slipped it over his head, then swung the guitar round so that it wouldn’t bump against you as he took your hand in his.

“You’ve saved me enough times. It’s about time I returned the favour, Captain.”

“I’m still Captain, am I?”

“Of course! You’ll always be my captain.”

“I was worried… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore, now you don’t have to.”

John smiled.

“It wasn’t the bakery I was coming to see, love. I haven’t been getting up at the crack of dawn and peddling across half of London for the bakery. I didn’t suffer scraped knees and a daft helmet for Gladys and her bloody ancient coffee machine.”

You marvelled at this for a second, then you smiled.

“It’s Mickey, isn’t it.”

John laughed.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Can’t get enough of the bloke.”

“I knew it, I knew it.”

”It’s the arms.”

“Who can blame you.”

Master List

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #john deacon fic #queen fic #john deacon x you

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heavenlybutler · 2 years

Text

i can’t keep waiting

part two

pairing: austin!elvis x reader

summary: elvis returns from tour and the two of you officially get together. but problems arise when he explains the plans the colonel has for him.

warnings: (horribly written) smut, fluff, some angst at the end, probably some grammatical errors.

note: i’m embarrassed at how many hours i’ve worked on this part. i’ve written out so many things and ended up deleting them to start over. also, i absolutely suck at writing smut so just bare with me as i try to get better at it. there will probably only be one more part after this one. i’m still shocked at all of the love it’s been receiving because when i had originally posted it, i had no idea for what i wanted in part two. all that being said, i hope everyone enjoys! if you have any ideas for part three please message me because i need all the help i can get lol. thanks so much for all of the love!! <3

elvis kept his promise to you about keeping in touch every day. he called every morning and every night. he’d share every single detail of his days, not wanting you to feel like you were missing out on a second of it.

you had gotten through the first two weeks without elvis with ease. you distracted yourself with work, taking extra shifts just to keep yourself busy. but it had almost been three weeks without him and it was definitely starting to get to you.

you didn’t want elvis to know how selfishly you missed him. you knew he’d turn around his car in a flash if he knew that you’d been lying in the bed crying over him all day. elvis always sounded like he was having the time of his life whenever he called. you were happy for him but it hurt you to know that being away from each other wasn’t really affecting him like it was you.

“you barely said a word on the phone this mornin’. and now, i can still barely get a peep out of ya’. what’s on your mind, baby?,” elvis’ voice echoed out of the phone and into your ears.

“just tired is all,” you mumbled, playing with wire coil that connected the phone to the wall with your fingers.

“you sure that’s all?,” elvis questioned, concern lacing his voice.

you ignored him, wanting to hear your own question answered, “do you miss me?”

you heard a light chuckle from the other end of the phone, “‘course i miss you. i tell you everyday, sweet heart. why would you even question that?”

“it’s just… you sound like you’re having the best time- which i’m so happy about. god, i’m so proud of you, insanely proud. you know how happy i am for you, i tell you all of the time… but it’s like i’m drowning without you here. and i know it’s selfish to say… i just feel stupid because i’m the only one drowning…”

“y/n, you’re the first thing i think about when i wake up in the morning and the last thing i think about before i go to sleep. you never leave my mind lonely. you’re always there, not anyone else, you. i miss you just as terribly as you miss me, i promise.”

you immediately felt guilty for asking that after his sweet response, “i know- and i’m sorry. i just miss you, like a lot.”

“ain’t gotta be sorry, darlin’. you don’t have to miss me much longer either ‘cause when i get home, you ain’t leaving my sight,” elvis chuckled, bringing a small smile onto your face.

“only one more week…,” you reminded yourself out loud, trying to keep positive.

elvis and you conversed for a few more minutes before yawns started to escape both of your lips.

“getting sleepy?,” elvis asked.

“a little but i would rather stay up and talk to you,” you yawned, once again.

“i’on wanna keep you up ‘cause i know you got work in the morning… i’ll call you as soon as i wake up, ‘kay?”

you groaned, knowing you were going to miss his voice as soon as the phone call ended.

“okay,” you mumbled, elvis hearing the pout in your voice which earned a chuckle from him.

“i love you, y/n. sweet dreams.”

you never got tired of hearing those first three words coming out of his mouth. elvis hadn’t forgotten to tell you those words before ending every phone call in the past three weeks

“i love you, elvis,” you smiled, placing the phone on the hook.

“have i mentioned my boyfriend is coming home sunday?,” you spoke to your coworker, maria, with a large smile on your face.

“only about ten damn times,” maria laughed as she rolled her eyes.

maria was a couple of years older than you and she had become one of your best friends through the past year of working at the diner. she was very easy to talk to and was like a big sister to you.

“i’m sorry,” you giggled, slapping your hand to your heart pretending to take offense. “i just can’t wait to see him…”

you and maria talked over milkshakes since there were no customers at the moment. it was currently three in the morning on a friday, you didn’t expect any more customers until the morning rush at six. so the both of you made yourself comfortable in a booth.

“what’s he like?,” maria asked out of pure curiosity.

“well first of all, he’s very- like very, very handsome. he’s caring, sweet…,” you went on for minutes, gushing over the boy.

“i didn’t even know they made men like that anymore. where did you find him?,” maria joked.

meanwhile, elvis was on his way back to memphis earlier than planned, which you were completely oblivious to.

“you ready to see your girl?,” scotty nudged elvis on his shoulder with a grin as elvis drove down the road.

“ain’t ever been so ready for something in my life,” elvis chuckled, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

elvis had told his bandmates about you the day they had left for tour. he needed to tell someone about you, he just couldn’t hold it in. bill and scotty were a bit surprised at first, thinking of dixie. but elvis explained how he had never felt the way he did about you with dixie.

it was something completely new to him, he had always thought he loved dixie until he met you, it was something different. elvis fell in love with you. he didn’t know there was such a big difference between loving someone and being in love with someone until you.

two weeks into the tour, elvis had called dixie and ended things with her. the guilt was getting to him and he just couldn’t drag her along for another two weeks. she took it exactly as elvis expected, tears and screaming.

elvis felt bad for days after but he knew it had to be done eventually. he knew dixie would get over it sooner or later. he had almost gotten the whole situation off of his mind until a few days later, his mama called him.

“why in god’s name did dixie just come here cryin’, elvis?,” his mother practically screamed through the phone, obviously upset.

“i broke up with her, mama…,” elvis spoke softly, hoping his mother would calm down.

“why would you do that? y’all two were happy… been together two years…,” gladys trailed on repeating herself, “why would you do that?”

“i met someone,” was all elvis responded, ready for his mother to explode through the phone again.

“on the road? you couldn’t have known the girl ten seconds, elvis! what were you thinkin’? you two were happy,” gladys spoke with so much anger in her voice and it dug under elvis’ skin to hear words come out of her mouth that weren’t even true.

elvis ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down before he flipped. “mama, dixie ain’t been happy with me for the past six months. she’s always complaining about me having no damn time for her,” elvis paused, waiting for a response but not getting one so he continued. “the girl i met… i met her months ago at that diner me and the boys go to, uptown in memphis.”

“so you’ve been cheating on the poor girl?,” gladys painfully choked out, like he had hurt her too which made elvis’ heart pound.

“no, mama…,” elvis lied through his teeth for the sake of his mother ever being able to look you in the eyes. “we’ve just been seeing each other as friends but i know there’s something more there. her name is y/n, she’s wonderful really. she’s kindhearted, caring, a hard worker… she reminds me of you.”

elvis talked about you for days until his mama finally accepted the thought of you. gladys could tell that her son already loved you just by the way he spoke about you. she ended up telling him, “all that matters to me is that you’re happy.”

so elvis took that as a win in his book, he couldn’t wait to introduce you to her. but he didn’t tell you anything about the dixie situation over the phone, he’d rather tell you in person because it was a lot to take in.

it was pushing five in the morning as you laid your head on the booth you had been sitting in for hours now, trying to fight sleep.

maria had almost fallen asleep too but shot up when headlights pulled into the diner parking lot.

you heard a groan leave her lips before she sat up straighter, “got a customer…”

“rock, paper, scissors?,” you mumbled sleepily as you peered up at her, hearing the door open behind you.

maria rolled her eyes at you, looking over to the entrance where a boy was walking in, “this one ain’t bad on the eyes, i’ll take him.” maria smirked as she got up, your head falling back to the table because the last thing you were interested in was a random boy walking into the diner at five a.m. you didn’t even care to take a glance at him before your eyelids fluttered shut.

that was until you heard a very familiar voice. there’s no way, you thought to yourself before lifting your head up. your once sleepy eyes shot open as you saw elvis standing by the entrance, his eyes already on you.

you immediately stood up and ran over to him. you felt tears build up in your eyes as you threw your arms around his neck. his cologne scent that you had missed for weeks engulfed you immediately as your head rested in the crook of his neck.

elvis’ arms wrapped tightly around your body, lifting you a few inches off of the floor. you had to be dreaming, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

your mouth hung open as elvis placed you back down on the floor, your hands placing themselves on either side of his cheeks. you simply stared at the face that you had been missing for far too long. elvis looked tired and it showed in his eyes, but he looked happy.

“is this real?,” you mistakenly asked out loud. you couldn’t believe he was here, right in front of you.

“it’s real, darlin’,” elvis smiled widely, placing a kiss on your lips that was basically all teeth because the both of you just couldn’t stop smiling. “i ain’t ever leaving you again,” elvis whispered against your lips while wiping a tear that fell down your cheek.

you looked back to the large clock on the wall, maria noticing you checking it as she had been viewing your whole love fest.

“y/n, get out of here! i’ve got this,” maria smiled at you widely.

“are you su-,” you couldn’t get your question out before maria cut you off.

“you love birds better go before i change my mind,” maria said with a shewing motion of her hands.

“i love you!,” you yelled to her as you grabbed elvis’ hand and dragged him out of the diner.

the two of you walked to his car, hand in hand. elvis politely opened the door for you as he always did.

elvis slid into the driver's seat, smiling when he turned to look at your face. he could never get tired of looking at you after going a month without seeing your face.

“what do you want to do?,” elvis asked as he cranked up the car. it was a silly question for it to be five in the morning.

“want me to be honest?,” you smiled as you reached over the console to grab his hand from his lap.

elvis nodded his head as he smiled back at you, “i’d love nothing more to get in my comfy bed and go to sleep right now,” you paused, “with you of course.”

elvis leaned over the middle console to place a short kiss on your lips. “i was thinking the exact same thing,” elvis chuckled.

“mama is out of town with her boyfriend so she won’t be there to chew us out in the morning,” you explained before elvis had the chance to ask. your mom loved elvis but would never be comfortable with letting any boy stay the night with you.

the drive to your house was filled with a lot of comfortable silence besides you questioning him about why he was home so early. elvis explained that the last show was canceled so he and the boys left and headed back to memphis before the sun even rose yesterday.

the two of you made it to your house a few short minutes later. you made your way into the bathroom, putting on your pajama slip that you had taken off and mindlessly thrown on the floor the previous morning.

you then walked into your room, seeing elvis already curled up in your bed. the clothes he had been wearing sprawled out on your floor. his tired eyes met yours as you walked over to the bed.

“comfy?,” you chuckled while pulling back the covers to crawl into the bed next to him.

“very,” elvis smiled, extending his arm out on a pillow so you could lay your head on it. you reached to turn your beside lamp off before cuddling into him. you laid on your side, head laying on his shoulder as you wrapped your top leg around him. it had to be one of the best feelings in the world to simply be beside the boy that you love.

you felt like you could finally release a breath that you had been unknowingly holding in for a month. you were unbelievably content in his arms.

“god, i’ve missed you,” elvis whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead which made you look up at him. the room was dark but the moonlight that came through your curtains illuminated enough light for you to faintly see his features.

you had your whole body wrapped around him but you still didn’t feel quite close enough. you leaned up onto your elbow so you could connect your lips to his. your lips were needy for him and it showed in the way you cupped his face to bring his lips impossibly closer to you.

your tongue almost immediately made its way into his mouth when he opened it even slightly. one of elvis’ hands placed itself on your lower back while his other hand rested on your thigh that was thrown across his body.

your hand left his face and placed it flat on his upper bare chest. you happily hummed into the kiss as you felt something hard on the inside of your thigh which was pressed to his crotch.

at that moment, you no longer thought about dixie. all you could think about was having the man you love inside of you so he was close to you. that’s all that you wanted right now.

elvis tugged at your thigh, signaling that he wanted you on top of him. before you did that, elvis broke the kiss to sit up so his back was rested against the head board.

“c’mere, baby,” elvis whispered as he patted his thigh. you immediately felt him under you when you sat down in his lap. elvis let a groan leave his lips due to the friction of you being sat on his erection.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. you yearned for more friction against your damp panties so you began to rock your hips back and forth slowly. elvis’ hands rested on your hips, squeezing them as he steadied you. you rested your forehead against elvis’, feeling his breath hit your mouth which was gaped open from pleasure.

“want you inside of me, elvis,” you whispered against his lips.

elvis had been waiting for this moment for months so he was quick to make it happen. his hands left your hips as you lifted them so he could pull his boxers down. as soon as he did, his length sprung up and slapped against his toned stomach.

you looked down in between the two of, in awe at his size. you had slept with a handful of people but never anyone close to his size. your breath hitched as elvis’ fingers came down to your panties, brushing over your folds as he pushed the lace panties to the side.

“you sure, darlin’?” elvis asked, looking into your eyes deeply. you nodded quickly because you had never been more sure of something.

elvis brought his palm to his mouth, spitting in his hand before spreading the saliva onto his length. he used it as lube, wanting to take any measure for it to be as painless as possible for you.

your hips hovered over his length as he drug the tip up and down your folds, stopping at your entrance. you grabbed onto his shoulders for support before sinking down onto the tip.

“go as slow as ya’ need to, baby,” elvis comforted you as his hands rested on your hips to steady you.

you slowly sank down a couple more inches, pleasure surprisingly ensuing you. a light moan left your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

“makin’ the prettiest sounds,” elvis spoke which encouraged you take make more as you sink down some, him being halfway inside of you now.

it seemed as if he got thicker the farther you went down which caused you to start feeling a highly uncomfortable pain.

“elvis… i- i can’t,” you whimpered, the pain causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

elvis’ hand grabbed your jaw, pulling your face close to his. his thumb rubbed circular motions on your cheek to comfort you.

“open- look at me,” elvis spoke, his voice deeper than usual. elvis waited for your eyes to flutter open before he spoke more, “doin’ so good for me, baby. you’re almost there…”

you focused only on his words, trying to forget about the pain. elvis could see the pain you were in from the look on your face and it was killing him. his current pleasure wasn’t worth your pain.

“we can st-,” elvis began to whisper but you cut him off quickly.

“n-no! just keep t-talking to me,” you managed to groan out.

“feel so damn good wrapped around me…”

you moaned as your zeroed in on the praise you were receiving.

“can’t believe you’re all mine… can’t believe your pussy is all mine,” elvis said as you finally bottomed out.

suddenly feeling him hit a spot inside of you that you didn’t know was there. your head went completely numb as your mouth dropped open. the pain was still there but it didn’t compare to the amount of pleasure that ensued from the head of his cock sitting on your sweet spot.

elvis could have let go at the pure sight of the scene in front of him. he thought he loved you before but he felt something even stronger as your tight walls fully engulfed him. elvis was now experiencing an obsession over you. he was absolutely and utterly obsessed with you.

you stilled for at least a minute, trying to get used to the feeling of the new found pleasure.

“wan’ me to help you start movin’, darlin’?” elvis asked as his hands left your cheeks and placed themselves on the underside of your thighs.

“please,” you managed to whimper out.

elvis gripped your thighs as your knees dug into the mattress on either side of him. he began to lift you gently, sliding you down on him even more gently.

the pain started to subside the more you moved so you kept going. a moan left your mouth each time his tip hit your sweet spot.

you brought your mouth to elvis’s, pressing opened mouth kisses to his lips every few seconds.

elvis’s hands left your thighs as he noticed you were now guiding yourself up and down on him. elvis enjoyed the slow pace you were at as he looked down in between you, watching his cock disappear into you when you bottomed out.

elvis started to bring his hips up to yours so you wouldn’t have to do so much work by yourself. but once he started he just couldn’t help himself from going faster.

suddenly elvis was fucking up into you, at a harsh and fast pace. you didn’t know what had came over him but you let it happen. the most erotic sounds escaped from your mouth as his tip hit your spot, over and over again.

“such-a-good-girl-for-me,” elvis grunted in between thrusts. those words alone bring a new sensation inside of your body.

“elvis, i-,” you started but couldn’t get the words out because of elvis repeatedly pounding up into you.

elvis felt you clench around him, immediately knowing what your previous unfinished sentence was about.

your whole body began to shudder, the unfamiliar feeling in your stomach unwinded while elvis still pounded into you. sobs spilled out of your mouth from the pure pleasure that was running through your body.

elvis wrapped his arms around your body as he flipped over to lay you down on the mattress, his cock still in you as he did so. elvis brought your legs around his waist and rested his head in the crook of your shoulder, slowly pushing into you.

a sob of overstimulation left your mouth as you clutched onto elvis’ broad shoulders.

“i can-can’t,” you groaned out, elvis stilling inside of you. he pulled his face from the crook of your neck to look at you.

“you can be a girl for me… i can go slow for my good girl. take me for a few more minutes?,” elvis asked but it came out as more of a demand.

you nodded your head because you’d do anything to make him happy. as long as he was happy, you were happy.

elvis was absolutely pussy drunk as he began to slowly pump himself in and out of you. in that moment, he had never felt more in love in his life.

“love you so much, darlin’,” elvis whispered into your ear, peppering kisses below it. “s’glad you’re mine…”

elvis had never experienced sex this good in his whole life and neither had you. he never wanted it to end but he knew that wasn’t realistic.

“ain’t no man ever gonna touch you this way again. you hear me?” elvis grunted, his pace growing sloppier. you loved how possessive he was becoming over you.

“i’m yours, all y-yours,” you breathed out as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

elvis brought himself deeper inside of you with every stroke. the feeling you felt earlier returning to your lower stomach.

elvis brought his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “i’m gon’ marry you one day…”

the words made your eyelids flutter open, finding elvis staring at you with pure lust in his eyes.

“you want that, darlin’?”

elvis bottomed out inside of you, staying still for a few seconds which almost drove you up at the wall.

“y-yes,” was all you could manage to choke out because your orgasm was very close to approaching again.

“gon’ have all my babies? let me fuck you like this for the rest of your life?” elvis rambled breathlessly.

“mhm…” you moaned out as you gripped onto his black hair.

elvis decides in his head from that moment on, that no one else would have you. you were his and were only ever going to be his.

the next few days were spent with elvis by your side every second. he finally told you that he ended it with dixie weeks ago, which you shouldn’t have been so happy about but you were. you were just happy that he was yours, officially yours.

elvis introduced you to his parents and immediate family very quickly. it was so quick that you barely had time to process everything around you, but you were happy. gladys and you got along surprisingly well in the past week. elvis would bring you around everyday, you felt like you were invading but elvis insisted on it.

you were helping gladys clean up the dishes from the meal you and his family had just enjoyed. elvis and his father sat at the kitchen table and chatted as you made small talk with gladys.

the whole day had been wonderful but you felt like elvis was on edge for most of it. you thought about asking him if he was alright but you figured you were just overthinking.

that was until elvis suddenly stood from the dining table, walking over to lean himself on the corridor of the kitchen.

your attention was drawn to him when you heard him let a cough out. you looked over to find him nervously fiddling with his fingers.

“um… i wanted to give it some time until i brought this up,” elvis spoke, looking between you and his mother’s nervous facial expressions, “but the colonel fellow that took me on the hayride tour… he thinks we could do some great things together.”

gladys sat her dishrag on the side of the sink before asking, “great things… meaning what, elvis?”

elvis’ eyes traveled down to the floor as he continued, “television, recording contracts, hollywood… the colonel wants to represent me exclusively. he wants me to do more shows with him. he said he could have me signed to a big record label that has national distribution… like rca.”

the words that flowed out of his mouth sounded absolutely crazy to you. you thought there was no way that any of those things could happen.

“elvis, you sound crazy… i don’t know what this colonel has put in your head to make you think he could do all of these things. sam phillips is a good man we can trust but we don’t know this colonel from a nail in the wall,” gladys spoke with disbelief in her voice which also showed on her face.

he would be leaving you again… and that was the only thing that you could think about. elvis had promised he’d never leave your side again but apparently he had completely forgot about that promise.

elvis continued to go back and forth arguing with his mama. you stared emptily at the kitchen floor, you couldn’t process any of the situation that was going on around you.

“darlin’,” you heard the familiar nickname come from elvis which pulled you out of your staring trance. you looked up at him, not even wanting to hear anything else come from his mouth because you it would be disappointing.

“the colonel also mentioned to me that i’d have to put it out there…,” elvis paused to nervously look away from your eyes, “that i ain’t got a girl…”

your heart broke into a million pieces at the sound of those words. the tears that you had been holding in were now falling down your face. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, it was making you sick.

you quickly ran out of the kitchen and past elvis, escaping his failed attempt of grabbing hold of your arm. you ran out of the apartment complex as you heard him chase after you.

you sprinted as fast as you could, hearing him shout your name behind you.

“baby, slow down! just come back,” elvis yelled as he ran down the street after you.

you body started to give out on you the longer you ran. you finally had to stop, leaning against a brick building as tears now covered your whole face. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make the tears subside. you knew elvis wasn’t far behind you but you didn’t know how far until you heard his footsteps a couple feet away from you. elvis immediately tried to wrap his arms around you for comfort.

“don’t come near me, elvis!,” you breathlessly yelled as you pushed his arms off of you.

elvis had never seen you so upset and it was breaking him on the inside.

“baby, i won’t tryin’ to break up with you… i was just-,” elvis started but you didn’t even want to hear what he had to say.

“i can’t do this,” you shook your head as you began to walk away from him. elvis quickly grabbed your arm which made you turn around and snatch it from his grip.

elvis backed up at the sudden movement, “just talk to me… we can figure this out, i promise, y/n. i love y-.”

you cut him off quickly by raising your voice, “you don’t fuckin’ love me, elvis! you’ve kept me hidden away for four damn months until this past week! y-you promise not to leave me over and over! but as soon as i finally get comfortable you’re trying to get out of the door again!”

“no, baby. that ain’t it,” elvis spoke with a shaky voice, “i want you to come with me… everywhere. i want you to be there every step of the way. i won’t ever thinking about leavin’ you again.”

elvis spoke sincerely but all you could hear leaving his mouth was pure bullshit.

“you expect me to follow you around like a damn lost puppy? i have a job, elvis! i have a life!,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, pointing your finger to his chest.

you saw tears begin to fall from elvis’ eyes and as much as it broke you… you had to act like you didn’t care because apparently he didn’t care that much about you.

“i want to make a life for us, y/n… a new one, a better one… one where you don’t have to work your ass off every single day to make tips just to help your mama pay the water bill. all i want is to take care of you, damn it! why the hell won’t you let me?,” elvis’ voice became louder as he got more frustrated with you.

all you could do was shake your head, letting silence linger for a few seconds.

“if this life includes me being hid away in a damn closet for the rest of my life…,” you spoke as you inched closer to him, “then i don’t want anything to do with it,” you spat.

#austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin butler elvis #elvis movie #elvis x reader #austin x reader #elvis austin butler #elvis imagine #elvis presley #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut

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centralperkchenford · 3 months

Note

Tim finds an old valentines letter/card Lucy wrote but never sent whilst he was with Ashley 🥰🥰

First Valentine’s Day story 💗. I hope you like this!

Tim finds an old valentines letter/card Lucy wrote but never sent whilst he was with Ashley 🥰🥰

Love letters straight from your heart

Tim grumbles as he rummages through the drawers. He’s looking for a flashlight and his girlfriend apparently doesn’t have one or one that has batteries. He makes a mental note to update all her emergency items. Just in case.

He pulls out a stack of papers and puts them on the counter, shaking his head and peering into the drawer but there’s no flash light. He picks up the stack of papers and puts them back in making another note to organize this drawer. And maybe the other ones too.

Something falls to the floor and he bends down to pick it up. It’s a Valentine’s Day card with a cheesy saying on front. He furrows his brows wondering if it’s from an old boyfriend or something.

His curiosity takes over even though if it’s from Chris he might puke. It’s bad enough Lucy dated him for so long. The thought of Chris writing her a Valentine’s Day card makes him shudder. But it’s not from Chris. In fact it’s not any ex boyfriend. It’s from Lucy to Tim.

He sits down on one of the stools and reads.

Tim,

This is stupid and I know you are with Ashley and are probably spending Valentine’s Day with her. But this is my way of getting my feelings out, I know I ruined things when we were in Vegas and I’m sorry. I am. But I lied. It did mean something, that kiss was everything and I know it’s my fault but it hurts me seeing you with Ashley.

When you “proposed” to her my heart broke. And I didn’t want to show it so I didn’t and I thought I could move on but.. then that kiss and the next kiss.

I know I’m too late you are happy with Ashley and I should be happy with Chris. I should move on like you told me too but…

It doesn’t matter you will never see me that way, it wasn’t pretend to me and I hope you can forgive me.

I don’t know if this letter will ever get to you but.

You will always have my love.

Lucy

Tim stares at the words on the card, his mind racing. His heart feeling like it could be right out of his chest.

It wasn’t pretend to her. She lied.

He had a feeling she wasn’t telling the truth in Vegas but he didn’t want to push her too much. So he didn’t and he really wish he had. They could of had what they had now sooner.

He rereads the letter and shakes his head at the Ashley part, the fake proposal was suppose to be a joke and nothing more. He never meant to hurt Lucy. He wasn’t happy with Ashley back then he just wasn’t ready to admit it. She was a guard for his feelings for Lucy. She was selfish, self absorbed and entitled. She really thought he would retire for her. She wasn’t the one, he loved his job and would never give it up.

Until Lucy. Because she was worth the risk.

He didn’t regret not even a little bit, and he would do it all over again for her.

He’s so into rereading he doesn’t hear the door open and he doesn’t hear the voice calling his name.

“Tim!” Lucy’s voice rings next to him. He looks over to see Lucy staring at him, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”

He swallows and picks up the card, and her eyes go to it. “What’s that?” She asks but by the time of her voice, she knows exactly what it is.

“I found it.” He says gesturing to the drawer. “You don’t have any flashlights.”

Lucy lets out a laugh although it sounds a bit weak. “Sorry.”

“Lucy.” He says and he steps closer to her. “Did you have feelings for me in Vegas?” Lucy swallows and looks at the card again and then at Tim.

“Yes.” She says. “But I didn’t realize it until it was too late.. I’m sorry I lied Tim. I just didn’t know how to handle it and—”

“Luce.” He says softly. “Baby, it’s me. You could have told me.”

“I couldn’t Tim! We were both in relationships and I didn’t want to mess up what we had!”Lucy says and she sounds frustrated. “You are the most important person in my life. And I wasn’t going to ruin that.”

Tim smiles softly and tucks some hair behind her ear. “Remember what I told you Lucy? You deserve someone who is worth the effort. And even when things get tough I know we will put in the effort.”

Lucy smiles too though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I know and I love you for that. But I can’t help but think if I hadn’t lied..we might have stopped being stupid sooner.” She says softly.

“I thought of that too.” Tim admits. “But I think we did it right Luce. We got together exactly when we were supposed to.”

Lucy smiles again and this time it’s more of a her smile. “Yeah I guess you are right.” She takes the card out of his hands and tosses it aside and then kisses him. He kisses her back, and lifts her up putting her on the counter.

“I love you.” He says. “I wouldn’t have it any other way than the way we are right now.” Lucy leans forward to kiss him her legs wrapping around him.

“Yeah me neither.” Lucy says softly. And he pulls back to look at her. She’s beautiful and glowing and all his.

“So how many letters did you write to me?” He asks teasingly his hand going down her back and pulling her closer.

“Just that one.” She says against his lips. “Or maybe I have more you will never find them though.”

He laughs pulling her off the counter and walking them back towards her room. The abandoned card on the ground. The search for the flashlight forgotten. They didn’t need to write secret love letter anymore. Tim thinks as he lays Lucy down on the bed, they could say everything out loud and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

Tell her how happy he was that they took the risk. The jump.

How he loves her, and he’s going to do that hopefully for the rest of their lives. And he’s perfectly content with that.

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #chenford fanfic #chenford fic #anon answered #lucy x tim

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moreespressoformydepresso · 3 months

Note

What are your honest thoughts on all Descendants boys? From both books and movies?

Oehh that’s a good question! I’ll base most of this off of the movies because I remember them more clearly. Sorry this is so late, I needed some time to sort out my thoughts. Let’s see:

Ben: cutie, golden retriever energy, needs to grow a bit more of a spine but as a recovering doormat I vibe with him.

He’s got a good heart, and he’s definitely going places, but I have no idea who decided a 16-year-old should be king. Hilariously, he’s a better king than his dad because he cares about all of his people, not just the “heroes”. But still, he’s 16, let him have his dumbass teenage years. He’s still in his phase of wanting to please everyone and that isn’t gonna lead to the best decision making. You’re king, Ben, you can overrule your girlfriend’s selfish idiotic plan of closing the barrier. Just tell her “the barrier was opened for you to come through too. If those kids aren’t worth the risk, does that mean you aren’t either? Should we throw you back?!” And she’s change her tune real fast. You gotta give some tough love sometimes.

Jay: cool, I wanna know his gym routine, pretty funny but rash, needs Carlos to temper his brand of crazy (love their bromance).

I love the narrative parallels to the movie Aladdin. Jafar thought himself so far above a street rat and now he’s raised his son to be one so he can continue being a con-man. In the movies, Jay is actually a very accurate representation of your upbringing shaping you into who you are. All Jay knows is stealing, he’s never been taught to pay if he doesn’t have to, so to him stealing’s perfectly fine. It’s normal. It’s a lot more subtle than the whole “who doesn’t like being evil” bit, but the core idea is the same: when all you’ve ever known is one perspective, that’s gonna feel like the objective truth because you’ve never had a chance to try a different one.

Carlos De Vil: Best (movie) Boy, my baby, I love him. What a little nerd (affectionate).

He’s a big part of why I willfully ignore the absolute stupidity that is the third movie’s ending. I’m sorry Mal, wtf is wrong with you??? You set your supposed friend’s abuser free for nothing but some empty platitudes and dare suggest you’ve become an empathetic person?!?! In the books, we get a lot more insight into just how horrible of a mother Cruella is, but even in the movies we see he’s had it bad because of how jumpy and nervous he is. Disney is still Disney so we don’t get much of the healing process, but we see how he calms down and adjusts to a normal life over the course of the movies when he’s out of the bad situation, which is pretty good by Disney standards. Cameron Boyce did an amazing job playing him (R.I.P Cameron) and seeing an abuse victim get comfortable within their own skin and getting the happy ending they deserve is always fun.

Harry Hook: Insane (affectionate), most fashionable drama queen ever, absolutely crazy, more than a few screws loose but in the best way possible, he’s hilarious.

So on the surface, Harry’s pretty simple. A dude who’s lost his marbles and flirts with everyone. He probably has some kind of moral compass, since he didn’t rip Mal’s throat out with his hook when she revealed her little stunt in D3, but it fell overboard at some point and couldn’t be found so nobody knows what it is except Harry himself. Also, he has his sane moments, like during that same confrontation in D3 I mentioned before where he says “And you, King Benny... you're probably gonna throw us all back inside.” It’s the first time I’ve heard him sound… not like Harry. It’s sombre and defeated, a little disappointed maybe? Either way it’s really good acting and it implies he can act completely “normal” but he just chooses not to, which makes me like him even more. He’s just a dude living his best life despite the circumstances he was born into.

Gil: adorable, hilarious, kinda clueless but in a good way.

I love characters that have no idea what’s going on half the time but are absolute sweethearts trying their best. He’s like- the opposite of his dad in every way and I’m living for it!

Gaston Jr and Gaston the third: I don’t have much to say on them, let alone separately, so they get a section together.

Honestly? I don’t remember having an opinion of them. They made Evie happy by wresting, which is cool so they get points for that. Seem like they’re trying to out-gentleman each other to win Evie’s heart and since they’re not being creepy assholes about it they are objectively better than their dad. Very much brawl over brains, the two of them, with their constant wrestling reminding me of Carlos and Jay except they’re both the muscle. Kinda cute sibling relationship, even if it’s in a VK-typical villain-flavored way.

Anthony Tremaine: squeeeee, my type is pretty boys who sigh in annoyance at everything, I guess? We only get scraps but I happily cradle them to my chest.

Uhmmm so Anthony’s personality is mostly up for imagination? The only canon information we have is that he’s most likely Anastasia’s only kid (someone on Tumblr pointed out that, in the scene with the wicked step-daughters, he’s referred to only as their cousin, not their brother) and he’s very bored with his cousins’ antics. Given A Twist In Time the potential drama is endless. Every time Anthony’s mentioned we’re reminded he’s pretty and has good style, and I love that for him. Dude lives on an isle of junk and still looks like a supermodel. Lots of room for my own ideas while still remaining within the realm of “could be canon” with just enough base in there that I’m not just creating an OC, and as a writer and artist that’s all I need tbh.

Hadie: cute, deserves better, I need more of him and Mal bonding

Mal’s half-brother, son of Hades, very cool. I like that he’s trying to turn good and having a hard time, because that’s very realistic for someone who grew up not knowing anything other than evil. Descendants 2 tried to tackle it with Mal, but failed miserably. We know Hades sucks as a parent in descendants (neglect is abuse) so that’s not gonna help him.

Dough: Awww he’s so cute with Evie 🥺

No really that’s it. He’s a nerd that gets the girl, has some very funny moments, but honestly most of his character is centered around Evie? And they’re cute together it’s not a bad thing but there isn’t much to analyze. He’s understandably pissed about someone like Chad getting all the girls while using them, but that’s also only ever seen in relation to Evie.

Chad Charming: what a bitch (derogatory), total coward, I hate him but he’s funny.

So I have no issue with characters who conduct themselves terribly (I love Audrey, (fanon) Anthony, Uma, and many others from many fandoms) if, and that’s a massive IF, they have a good reason for it. And I’ll count “because I can and I want to” as a good reason, because by that point you have someone who’s mean and owns it. I can appreciate the self-awareness and usually those characters are very extra so it’s entertaining. If not that, there needs to be a reason they are the way they are. Audrey has the pressure from her grandmother (and the borderline verbal abuse), Uma has the very real grievance of living in squalor on a run-down island full of the worst of humanity because she was born, what does Chad have? He’s spoiled. A spoiled brat. And he goes from that to an overtly whimpering coward with none of the pretense of superiority in any field. His one saving grace is that he’s a massive joke.

Diego De Vil, Clay Clayton, Gonzo, Jace and Harry Badun, Herkie, Aziz, Jonas, Lefou Deux, Li Shang Jr, everyone else I missed: no opinion, because they’re not relevant enough for the writers to give them a personality.

I have nothing I’m sorry. I barely remember reading their names and I don’t remember anything from the scenes they’re (mentioned) in to get an idea of what to talk about here.

That was… a lot lmao

#disney descendants #descendants #descendants anthony #descendants jay #carlos de vil #descendants carlos #descendants ben #descendants chad #chad charming #descendants gil #gil descendants #harry hook #descendants harry hook #hadie descendants #gaston jr #gaston the third #anthony tremaine #character analysis #?? i guess

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

Text

Whumptober Day 31: Setbacks

So. Tumblr decided to delete this one, so I had to hurriedly rewrite it just today. This is not what I originally wrote, and I'm not super proud of this one, but I would rather have something to show for the final day of Whumptober than nothing at all. This has been an amazing journey, and thank you all for taking it with me! Happy whumping, and I hope you guys loved the ride while it lasted <3

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @toastingpencils37 @ghostwalloper @lightning-chicken

Words: 2k

“Sorry,” Jay babbled, leaning down to try and clean up the glass shards littering the floor, “sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry—”

The ringing sound of the plate crashing against the floor rang through his ears on repeat, every loop making his anxiety grow more and more. How stupid could he be?

First his friends were just talking about how good dinner was, complimenting Zane and his cooking skills when Jay’s vision just started tunneling and his breathing was coming up short. He didn’t know what triggered it, but the next thing he knew his hand was loosening and the porcelain slipped from his grasp. So now the least he could do was try and clean it up. Maybe they would forgive him.

“Jay,” Nya tried to say from a couple feet away, cringing at his bare feet and the large pieces of the broken plate surrounding him in a rough circle, “it’s okay, I promise, just stay still and we’ll handle it.”

He cried out as the shards cut into his hands, and he dropped them back onto the ground. Why did this have to happen now, of all the times? Jay was finally starting to get used to being in a friend group, to having people to talk to, and now he went and ruined everything just because someone brushed a little too close to him in the way that he hated and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he couldn’t breathe and the next thing he knew the plate he was using to get food was shattered on the floor and there was no way he could step over all of the glass.

Fresh blood flowed from the small cuts in his hands, and Jay’s heart sank when he spotted Zane going for the small medkit that Lloyd kept in his apartment. The cuts stung pretty bad, but Jay would’ve put up with it. So of course, of course it was him that was going to be costing Lloyd medical supplies that he could be using to treat his own injuries instead of Jay’s. First Master knows how many bullies jumped Lloyd per day. How selfish was he?

“Hold on, bud,” Cole said, and the bigger boy used his boots to gently brush away all of the glass shards. He hooked his hands under Jay’s armpits when he reached the smaller boy, lifting and depositing Jay onto the kitchen counter. Jay felt like a child, and he hated how he couldn’t hate feeling like that. “That’s better. Just stay up here while the others clean up the glass.”

Kai came around the corner with a broom, Lloyd behind him with a dustpan, and both of them shot Jay a smile as they started to sweep up the broken glass. Zane stood next to him, rifling through the medkit, and Jay latched onto his sleeve out of pure instinct. Zane’s sweaters always felt nice.

Cole hummed on Jay’s other side, locking arms with the smaller boy and staying quiet so that Jay could gather his thoughts. Not that Jay had any coherent thoughts to gather.

“Nya, can you grab a bowl?” Zane asked, and the girl moved to do so.

She held the bowl under Jay’s hands, and Jay didn’t understand why until he saw Zane pull out the peroxide. Oh yeah, it was probably a good idea to try and clean the cuts before bandaging them up. He wouldn’t have remembered to do that if he was on his own. The bowl was also catching whatever blood wasn’t flowing past his wrists and down his arms, soaking into his sleeves.

Warmth stung in his chest, and Jay swallowed thickly to keep the tears back. The last thing he needed was to show all of them how much of a crybaby he was.

Zane dabbed at the cuts with a soaked cotton swab, and Jay had to restrain himself from flinching away. “I’m sorry, I know it stings,” Zane said, but Jay only shook his head. It wasn’t his fault, and there wasn’t really anything that Zane could do about the pain. Jay could suck it up for a few minutes; he had definitely taken worse.

He worked with precision, gently cleaning the cuts and wrapping them afterwards. Nya started talking about her latest art project to help distract Jay, and even though all of the colors and the terminology went straight over his head he still loved to hear her talk. She forgot that he was self-taught and knew jackshit about anything professional art, but that was okay. At least they had some common ground to work with.

Finishing up, Jay glanced at his hands with a guilty expression as Zane packed up the medkit and moved to put it away. Cole was still humming, tapping his fingers on the back of Jay’s hand in a beat that made Jay smile despite the anxious feeling still clawing at his chest with the world’s largest talons. He kicked his feet back and forth in an attempt to burn off some of the nervous energy, but to his dismay it only seemed to be getting stronger. It peaked when Lloyd and Kai took steps towards him, and any happy feelings that he may have had before were gone, replaced by a growing sense of dread as the two started to box him in.

Because he didn’t see Lloyd and Kai. Instead he saw two bullies, much larger than him, closing in and getting ready to hit him—

“Jay,” Nya tried, noticing the way he was curling into himself. Jay brought his arms up and over his head, scooting backwards on the counter until his back hit the wall. He was shaking, tucking his head between his legs and doing his best not to throw up all over the counter that Zane had literally just cleaned. “It’s okay, really. We’re not mad.”

“I-I-” and Jay had to shut his mouth to keep the sobs inside. He couldn’t break down in front of his new friends, not when he had to put in every effort to not look like the weak person he knew himself to be.

Zane, sensing Jay's distress, immediately moved back to the counter, bending down to meet Jay at eye level. He made sure to push Kai and Lloyd back, knowing that Jay needed some space at the moment. "Jay, it's all right. You're safe here. We're not going to hurt you."

Jay could barely hear Zane's comforting words over the rush of blood in his ears, pounding against his skull. He was trapped, caught in the grip of a memory that clawed its way to the surface and between the bodies of the girl he loved and his best friend since forever. Even if he could get off the counter, he still had to worry about getting past the other three. The vivid images of past confrontations with bullies flooded his mind, overwhelming him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being surrounded by people who wished him harm rather than wishing him well.

But it wasn’t just bullies.

Cole placed a gentle hand on Jay's trembling back, offering a grounding touch. "Take deep breaths, Jay. In and out. We're here for you."

Lloyd and Kai exchanged concerned glances, realizing that their attempt to comfort Jay had backfired. They took another step back but still looked on, faces filled with worry. Eventually Kai stepped away, whispering something to Lloyd about getting Jay a blanket before disappearing off into the living room.

Despite the words and the hands trying to reassure him, Jay felt the walls closing in tighter and tighter. He did his best to focus on his breathing, trying to follow Cole's advice, but the memories clung to him like a vice.Cole eventually shooed Nya away and off the counter, and Jay sobbed as his best friend’s arms wrapped around him and held him, rocking them back and forth on the counter.

"Jay," Zane's voice was calm and soothing, "we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid. You're safe."

The smaller boy rapidly shook his head, hiding into the depths of Cole’s sweatshirt and continuing to cry. He didn’t feel safe, not when he was surrounded by people with no way out. Not when he just fucked up and knew that they would be upset with him. First Master, what if Lloyd’s mom ever found out? She would be so upset. Jay would never be allowed to come over again and she would ask him to never talk to Lloyd ever again and he already knew that the others would pick Lloyd over him and Jay was going to be alone again—

“Bud,” Cole said softly, hand starting to rub Jay’s back, “I need you to talk to me, alright? What’s wrong?”

Cole was the only one here who knew Jay’s past; he was the only one that Jay could trust. He grabbed at Cole’s hoodie, the pain shooting up through his arms as he did so, but Jay couldn’t bring himself to let go. It was getting so much harder to breathe, and Jay wanted nothing more than to be back home and safe and under a blanket with his pa sitting in his armchair and his mom playing music in the kitchen. Of course, Jay’s first sleepover had to go completely awry. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Cole asked, ever so patient with Jay. He always had been and Jay hoped that Cole always would be.

“I-I dropped the plate,” Jay stammered, voice soft enough that Cole was the only one who could hear it, “and I don’t want you guys to be upset with me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Good grief, Jay,” Cole sighed, and Jay’s stomach dropped with the thought that Cole was upset with him, “I’m not upset, I know that look on your face. It’s okay, accidents happen. No one’s angry, we’re not going to hurt you, and we just want to make sure that you’re okay.

And the anger that welled up in Jay’s chest was scorching and unfamiliar, the heat licking at his insides and making him shake even harder. He was angry with himself, for ruining the progress that he’d been making with his friends. It had been so long since he had a meltdown like this in front of them, and of course just when things were going well Jay had to go and ruin it by dropping that stupid plate.

“Let it out,” Cole soothed, one hand gliding up to Jay’s hair and tangling itself in his curly mop. “You bottle up way too much stuff, just let it out. I can take it, I promise. Do you want Nya next to you?”

Jay nodded, and Nya was quick to scramble up onto the counter next to them. She wrapped her arms around Jay’s waist, pressing a light kiss to the side of his head that caused Jay to instantly flush. Nya didn’t notice, only laying her head on his shoulder and whispering encouraging words as he finally started to get his breathing back under control.

"That's it," Nya encouraged, her voice a soft murmur. "You're doing great, Jay. We're not here to hurt you."

Sure, they weren’t here to hurt him, but he still somehow managed to hurt himself. “I was doing so good,” he said angrily, and both of his friends’ grips tightened, “and I had to go and fuck it up. All that progress and for what? This?”

“It’s okay,” Cole assured, “setbacks happen. It doesn’t make you any less of a person for having one or two or even three. It’s all just a part of the process. Stop being so hard on yourself and just let us take care of you, okay? That’s what friends are for.”.

As the wave of panic began to recede, Jay became more aware of the warmth of his best friend’s arms, the faint hum of the refrigerator, and the concern etched on his friends' faces. It was a stark contrast to the haunting memories of cruel smiles and taunting laughter, the harsh words of the bullies compared to the kind words from the friends that he never thought that he would have.

“Yeah,” Jay agreed, wiping his eyes on Cole’s sleeve. He could feel blood start to soak through his bandages, but he pushed out the guilt that tried to consume him when he thought about asking Zane to re-bandage his hands. “Yeah. Okay. I-I can do that.”

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago nya #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #whumptober day 31 #whumptober 2023

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five-rivers · 1 year

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Need More Than Sorrow

AO3

For @datawyrms

Everyone had things they were ashamed of. Or, at least, they had things they should have been ashamed of, which wasn’t quite the same thing, but Danny liked to think he wasn’t quite that oblivious. Most of the time.

Except he’d realized that he maybe had been for a little while there. Just a little.

Or a lot.

A lot, actually.

He ran his fingers over the hem of his sweater (NASA themed, of course), and watched his friends bicker over food. Again.

Thing was, he could let it lie. It had been lying for weeks, now. Tucker hadn’t brought it up, anyway, and neither had Sam. And… Yeah. They didn’t seem to be mad at him for anything.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t care about it, or that it didn’t matter.

So he should probably say something, right? That was what you were supposed to do. Kind of… take responsibility.

Right?

“Danny? Hey, Earth to Danny.”

“Huh? What?”

“You okay, man?” asked Tucker.

“Um,” said Danny. “Yeah. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Sam, with a little scoff. Danny wouldn’t ever tell her, but she sounded a lot like her mom when she did that. “Getting mind controlled by an evil clown? You deserve to zone out a bit after all that.”

Danny glanced at Tucker. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, you’re not responsible for anything you did when you were under his control.”

“Mhm, yeah. Just, um. Thanks for coming after me.”

“Anytime,” said Sam.

“Yeah, we’ve got your back.”

"Thanks…"

"Now eat up." She pointed imperiously at his hamburger. "I know that weirdo didn't feed you."

Well. She wasn't wrong.

"Hey, how come his burger gets a pass while you're slandering my Nasty Meatacular."

"Three different animals died for that crime against nature."

"Four! It has mutton now!"

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

Danny took a bite of his burger. It didn’t taste like anything.

It would be so easy to just let them keep going. To just… keep going. No more. Don’t rock things. Don’t test things. Don’t change things.

He could do that quite easily. It would be easy. The easier path. What did they say about easier paths again? What did they say about good intentions?

Oh, God.

“Tucker?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, we told you, you don’t need to apologize for anything Freakshow made you do. And if you did, you should apologize to Sam first. She’s the one you pushed off a tightrope.”

“He pushed me onto the tightrope,” corrected Sam. “I fell off all by myself.”

“It’s not about that,” said Danny.

“Then what?” asked Sam, reaching for her soda. “Are you going to confess to throwing up in my lunchbox in gradeschool this time?”

“No,” said Danny. “It’s… I shouldn’t have overshadowed you that time. Made you… do things you didn’t want to. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” said Tucker, not looking at Danny.

“Just ‘okay?’” Danny ducked his head, trying to get into Tucker’s line of sight.

“What do you want me to say, Danny? That it wasn’t that bad? Well, it was. It sucked.”

Danny hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, man.” Tucker laughed, humorlessly. “Heck, you said you were sorry about me losing my date when it happened. I just… Priorities, Danny. It would’ve been great if you were sorry before it happened to you. Or, heck, after Poindexter walked off with your body that one time. So. Yeah. It sucks. It really sucks.”

“I shouldn’t have done it. I never should have done it. It was stupid and cruel and… Selfish.”

“Yep. Sure was.”

“If Danny is apologizing, I probably should, too,” said Sam. Why went unsaid, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t all been there.

“Is there anything I can do to- to make up for things?”

“Not really. I mean. I overshadowed people, too, don’t forget. The whole Desiree thing.”

“You were kind of being mind controlled during that, too.”

“Yeah.” Tucker picked at his fries. “I’m getting real sick of all this mind control. I mean, you’ve got all this stuff. All this… People controlling where you go, what you do. You should at least be able to think what you want. And what you do. What you actually do, even if you’re being forced. It’s not right. You get me?”

“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

“Of course you didn’t. I love you, man, but you’re so white.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that. Jeez. Just chill, okay? It’s not like I’ve never been stupid about your powers. Let’s just… drop it. And not do it again.”

“That sounds like a deal,” said Sam. “Do we want dessert? I want dessert. I’m going to get some dessert.” She stood up. “God, this is awkward.”

Tucker sipped loudly at his drink. “It is pretty awkward.”

“I thought we were dropping it.”

Tucker threw a french fry at Danny.

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #danny phantom

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booksandpaperss · 1 year

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A Look Inside Max Mayfield’s “last word” letters to the party: El

…

Hey El,

Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve written those two words. Too long, really.

How are you? Are you.. are you doing okay? I know that’s a silly question considering the shitty circumstances of this letter but I hope you are, you deserve every good thing that happens to you. Even if that was me… leaving. Or, pulling away, I guess.

This vecna asshole better leave you alone. Tell him he better not mess with you. It doesn’t matter that I probably won’t be here soon, he better leave you alone. I’ll make sure he does. Somehow.

Shit, I’m so fucking sorry for not writing to you. I miss you so much, you have no idea. And now you’re not even going to see this until after… well. I’m not stupid, I know you miss me too, or… at least that you care, even though I tried to convince myself you didn’t. I got your letters, I read all of them. You’re too good for me El, way more than you even know. I know we technically haven’t known each other for that long but, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I really wish I did, honestly. My life is better with you in it… it still is.

Lucas and Dustin and Steve, they’re all set on saving me, but this vecna guy… he’s really strong. He’s like you, with powers, but like, way less awesome of a person. I don’t think I’m going to make it. Is it selfish of me to wish you weren’t in California? Just so I could see you before I.. go? I’m glad you’re safe though. I just miss you, is all.

I have a bit of a confession. Multiple confessions, technically. And since this is like… my dramatic last words or whatever I should probably tell you. You’re my best friend, so if anyone should know, it’s you.

I’ve never really felt totally in with the party, you know? It was nothing they did, they’re great, really, even Mike. Don’t tell him I said this but I kinda get why you like him, under all his shit, sometimes he’s kinda sweet. Seriously please don’t tell him I said that, if I actually manage to live he’d never let me hear the end of it. Not that… well if you’re reading this that means I wouldn’t really, well. Be here.

Anyway, I got off topic, it’s so easy to do with you though and I wish we could talk more, and I miss you so much and I but anyway my point was, Mike and Lucas and Dustin and Will, they’ve all known each other for so long. They’re all so close and I’m just… I’m just here yknow? I’m just me.

But then I met you. Like, really met you. And I don’t mean when I just vaguely heard about you from Lucas and Dustin who talked about you like you were some otherworldly mystical sorcerer, and then saw you once right before you had to go off again to close a massive supernatural gate. I mean when I met you. And really… you were “just you” too. Just like me.

And El, you is so much. I don’t mean your powers, I just mean you, who you are. You got me, in a way no one else has, not even Lucas sometimes and that’s what and you didnt even have to say it, you just understood. We’re both outsiders, even with the party sometimes, but… never with each other.

El, you’re so fucking special to me. I hope you know that. Please know that. You’re more than your powers, than what you can do for other people, you’re just… so amazing, and supportive, and kind, and beautiful just as you.

Although, I guess if you’re reading this that means I’m not here so… you deserve to know. I think you’re beautiful, El. This is going to sound so cheesy but I really think you’re so beautiful, inside and out. Even when I’m not here, you can’t let anyone make you think otherwise okay? I know you won’t, you’re strong, without anyone else.

I wish I could say more but if I let this keep going I’ll be here all day, and I won’t get to our other friends letters, and then of course Mike would whine to you and Will about it, so I gotta save you guys from that. You’re just… I feel safe with you. Talking with you. Even if you’re not really here.

I’m sorry El. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll try to fight him okay? I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t, because you don’t deserve this shitty letter as my last words to you. You don’t deserve any of this. Or me. I’m sorry.

Love,

Max

#no one:#me: writes the most ambiguous elmax letter ever #ngl guys the end made me tear up just a lil #enjoy! more letters for the other members coming soon but I rlly wanted to do El’s first #if u liked this pls rb it! it would mean a lot <3 #and id love to hear yalls thoughts too #anyway #max mayfield #elmax #el hopper #bi max mayfield #(it’s hinted at)#max mayfield analysis #character study #st ficlet #stranger things 4 #elli’s writing #a look inside Max Mayfield's letters: elli's version

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sohemotional · 29 days

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That Don't Impress Me Much - A Brittana Fic

Summary: The blonde dancer totally knew the effect she had on her. It was so easy to rile the dark-haired woman up and as she beckoned her closer with a finger, Santana kept gazing at her lips, making it so obvious what she wanted.

She leaned closer, knowing that Santana would feel her breathing against her neck and as she expected, there was a sharp, aroused intake of breath from the Latina.

She even closed her eyes, puckering her lips as if Brittany was going to kiss her.

As if.

“My name is no. My sign is no. My number is no. You need to let it go.”

Brittany is tired of being taken advantage of by selfish, egotistical jerks, so she makes a plan with her friend Tina that she can make some idiot fall for her and then ditch them after she has had her fun. Her plans backfire when she’s swept off her feet by arrogant yet surprisingly sweet celebrity Santana Lopez.

Rating: M

Read More on AO3

***This is a companion piece to my other Brittana AU fic, "My Name Is No (You Need To Let It Go),” which you can find here on tumblr or on AO3

Brittany had just about had enough of fuckboys and fuckgirls.

There she was, sitting alone in a crummy little diner, all by her lonesome on Saturday night, her date nowhere to be found. Being the only hot, young blonde in fishnets, heels so high she was close to God, and a skirt so short it was probably illegal while surrounded by desperate bikers and hicks who licked their lips as they leered at her should have made her feel like she was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Or maybe she should have felt the way those fish in her dad’s aquarium felt that time Lord Tubbington took up scuba diving as his new hobby.

Instead, Brittany was unfazed. As she water-skied down the highway of life, she had seen it all.

That one old Dolly Parton song her mother and Grandma Rose from St. Olaf used to like so much was playing in the background now. It made her pretty nostalgic for the good old days in the Pierce house. Sometimes Brittany felt this one should have been the soundtrack to her life, if she ever had to choose a replacement for “Candy” by Cameo.

Don't try to cry your way out of this

Don't try to lie or I'll catch you in it

Don't try to make me feel sorry for you

Just because I'm blonde

Don't think I'm dumb

Cause this dumb blonde ain't nobody's fool

When you left you thought I'd sit

An' you thought I'd wait

An' you thought I'd cry

You called me a dumb blonde

Ah, but somehow I lived through it

And you know if there's one thing this blonde has learned

Blondes have more fun

There was nothing Brittany loved more than sex and she knew she was the best. Hoeing was her hobby. If there were competitions for this, she would have won the Olympic Gold medal. In fact, she had won the kissing competition in Lima five years in a row easily, if that meant anything.

Sure fuckboys and fuckgirls were kinda fun, especially when she got them in bed for the fucking part of things but a girl needed some romance in her life too.

After the first few times, she was over them. No one could hold her interest and it seemed like she never held theirs. To them, she was always just stupid bimbo slut Brittany. Good for an easy lay but not for a relationship.

Sure she knew she was hot but Brittany was beginning to wonder why she was never the girl who got flowers or love confessions and marriage proposals made to her. She was never the girl who got her happily ever after.

All she wanted was a cowboy to ride her off into the sunset.

“Tina, he just left me,” She sobbed into the phone as she heard Mike muttering something to his girlfriend in the background that vaguely sounded like him asking where Brittany was. “I’m at the Little Alien Inn!”

So now she was crying because she got ditched again.

“Bad bitches don’t cry.”

At least, that was what Tina told her when she and Mike stopped by to take her home but Brittany wasn’t so sure she was a bad bitch at that moment.

Mike and Tina each grabbed one of her arms, all about dragging her out of the diner in her bra and skirt when she had started to take off her clothes and perform a strip show on top of a table as she often did.

“You must think I’m such a mess.” Brittany sobbed, mascara running down her cheeks. Tina and Mike who were accustomed to picking up Brittany from sleazy bars and motels weren’t particularly surprised by any of this.

“Oh Britt, it’s not you. It’s that vile idiot. You don’t need any of them! Just be your hot girl self. You’re an independent woman who don’t need no man or woman! Hot girl summer and all that.”

Brittany wasn’t so sure about that at the moment. She felt like a codependent woman who was very much in need of a man or woman.

“Maybe Room Temperature Girl Summer?”

Tina shook her head, a long-suffering expression on her face, snorting out an incredulous, unladylike laugh as she passed another tissue to the blonde. She was so accustomed to Brittany’s oddball personality that she had come to expect comments like that from her. Apparently noticing that her tall, blonde friend was moping the night away on their couch with a pout on her face, she took pity on her.

“Here’s an idea: make a game out of it. Make some fuckboy go all crazy for you next time and then you ditch them when you’ve had your fun and laugh in their face.”

“Oh this, I’d pay to see.” Mike chimed in from across the room.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Brittany’s lips as she thought her friends were making a good point.

That night, something hardened inside of her and changed for her.

Tina was right, it was time she had some more self-respect and Brittany began to realize how much more she was worth than just a quick lay in the backseat of someone’s car until they moved on to the next girl.

——

She got her confidence back pretty quickly because if there was one thing about Brittany it was that she didn’t stay depressed for long.

So the next week she was slinking around The Pussy Cat with feline-like confidence and agility, ignoring the men who gawked at her, hissing and cat-calling as she passed by. She didn’t have a care in the world.

Who cared about girlfriends and boyfriends? She was just there to have fun with her friends. So that’s what she was going to do.

She was having such a great time that she really did forget about her troubles.

Then she felt her burning gaze on her from across the room. The stranger in question was a Latina with black hair, equally dark eyes, glowing dark skin, and a very slim but toned build. Her long hair fell in perfectly tousled dark waves.

She didn’t take her eyes off of Brittany once and had her jaw dropped as she took in the sight of the blonde. The blonde had never seen such a clear demonstration of “undressing someone with your eyes” in action.

Brittany couldn’t deny that the woman had this powerful, commanding aura about her.

She paid absolutely no mind to it, humming to herself as she twirled around and rolled her body perfectly in time with the beat. Then she sauntered back to her friends, giggling to herself as she thought of something her cat had done the night before.

Sugar tapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh Britt, you’ve got another admirer. That one is checking you out so hard. She looks like she’s drooling. I can see her boner from over here… ”

Brittany’s friends began to snicker obnoxiously. The blonde smirked and shrugged. It was super obvious that the painfully horny brunette was checking her out the entire time, muttering “Humina, humina,” but Brittany wasn’t bothered one way or another.

“Oh, okay. I just want to dance.”

Tina, Sugar, Marley, and the others were gawking at her. Sugar eventually piped up.

“Don’t you know who that is?! It’s Santana Lopez.”

“Who?”

“Brittany! How do you not know? She’s a celebrity! She was on Bad Girls Club.”

“Oh.”

“She’s openly lesbian too.”

“No duh. I could tell,” Brittany stated dryly, remembering how that woman had stared at her legs and ass. Come to think of it, Santana was still doing that. Brittany shook her head, rolling her eyes fondly at her friend. Sugar was always trying to matchmake her with someone and that girl knew everything about celebrities. She looked down at her nails, inspecting the pale pink polish on them while she knew Santana was checking her out again. “Uh, whatever. So not interested.”

She definitely wasn’t looking for anyone that night but if she managed to torment them, then that was a bonus. Men and some women always seemed to assume that if Brittany was dancing, it meant she was looking for a partner.

“What’s all that noise?” Brittany spoke up, hearing a bit of a commotion. “It’s kind of annoying.”

It turned out that the woman who had been checking her out was being totally loud and obnoxious now. She laughed really loudly, banging her fist on the table and being a total show-off. She threw back drinks until she was visibly red in the face. Then she started to sing as she got up on the table, drawing a crowd until some short woman with a serious expression pulled her back down before she embarrassed herself. She clearly thought she was so desirable and hot.

She probably thought that Brittany didn’t notice how she kept sneaking glances in her direction. A sly smirk came to Brittany’s lips. This woman was such a goofy dork and she was extremely obvious. Brittany had never seen someone who tried so, so hard and was so painfully lacking in self-awareness.

It was almost cute.

Brittany knew this woman’s type just from looking at her. She was also a little psychic.

She could tell this stranger was such a stereotypical arrogant womanizer with an ego the size of a small planet and thought of women as nothing more than warm bodies. She was so vain, she probably looked at herself in every reflective surface she passed. She was so selfish and spoiled that she thought the world revolved around her.

She was totally Brittany’s type.

She didn’t need her though. She was done with playboys forever.

At least that’s what she told herself when she followed her friends over to the bar. She taken a few sips from the strawberry daiquiri in her hand when she began to blink in confusion as a margarita was placed in front of her.

“It’s from that lady over there. She sent this and she asked me to tell you that you’re stunning.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Tell her I’m so not interested.” Brittany quipped with a sassy flip of her long wavy hair.

Brittany glanced over her shoulder to see Santana waving and giving her this smug smile that made these stupid, cute dimples deepen on both of her cheeks.

Tina and her other friends were just watching her with amusement as Brittany continued to ignore Santana. All of her friends clearly found this so hilarious, though they were supporting her in her decision to completely ignore all the perverts and fuckboys who were trying to get her.

“Wow, Santana’s really going for it. Looks like someone’s dying for your attention.” Mike chuckled.

“Ugh, here we go. I so don’t care. She’s just horny. Why do they always see a woman sitting alone and assume she wants a companion?” The sass was dripping from Brittany’s voice as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and curled her lip, ignoring the drink Santana sent her. “Newsflash, no thanks.”

Santana kept giving her the eye no matter how much Brittany made it clear that she wasn’t going to fall into her arms. Ugh, Brittany rolled her eyes with exasperation and amusement, couldn’t Ms. Egotistical take a hint?

Apparently not.

“Oh don’t look now, here she comes. She got it bad.” Sugar snorted as everyone began to chuckle at the sight of Santana Lopez swaggering over with her shoulders thrown back.

Brittany had to hand it to her, the woman was the only one who had been brave enough to approach her like this all night.

Too bad the blonde was so not in the mood.

Brittany was feeling bitchy. She knew the routine by now. They all wanted to know her name, her number, her sign… Brittany was curious about whatever sleazy pick-up line Ms. Arrogant was going to give her and she didn’t disappoint.

Santana had this stupid, cute cheesy smirk on her face and her teeth were gleaming white.

She was so typical Hollywood sleaze.

“Hi. You’re gorgeous,” Okay, she was starting off being a little charming with that opening line, Brittany had to admit but she just knew the sleaze would be coming next. “Dayum, Girl. Where’d you learn to dance like that? Who you dancing like that for looking all hot like that?”

Not for you, Jerk :) That’s for sure.

“What I want to know is, what time them legs open?”

Like I haven’t heard that one a million times before…

It was so lame. Even though she was in stunned disbelief, Brittany couldn’t help but notice Santana now and she gave it back to her with a sassy comeback of her own.

“Oh, is that supposed to be a pick up line?”

Brittany was beginning to wonder if Santana had ever actually flirted with a woman before, far less managed to pick up one. There was a flash of lust in her dark eyes when Brittany said that and she looked as if she was about to combust on the spot.

“So, you know, I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”

Brittany could barely hold back her laugh, cupping a hand over her mouth as she rolled her eyes. Santana continued to puff up her chest and peacock around her, as if she expected Brittany to be totally impressed.

“Ooo, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

She could not be for real. This was the great, powerful celebrity Santana Lopez her friends were in awe of? She really thought she was charming the dress off of Brittany with those corny lines.

Brittany couldn’t wait to tell Tina about this later. She knew her friend would be laughing about it forever.

“Ooo, I’m in trouble.”

Santana as always, was unfazed by Brittany’s ice cold, dismissive attitude. The preppy blonde decided to tease her even more, getting close and poking her finger into Santana’s chest confidently. Brittany couldn’t deny that the way Santana’s eyebrows rose and her lips parted as if she was flustered by the blonde invading her personal space amused her to no end.

“Oh that’s how it is, huh? What’s your name, Pretty Girl?”

Anytime Brittany was snippy towards her, the woman looked at her with obvious arousal written all over her face. She was pushing back her dark hair, trying so, so hard to look all cool and suave but she had this stupid, goofy look of excitement on her face that made it difficult for Brittany not to start giggling. She had to cover her hand over her mouth as she laughed in her face.

The more Brittany acted all aloof and mysterious, the more she turned on Ms. Egomaniac. She swore she saw the woman clenching her thighs together when Brittany gave another sassy response to her.

Brittany had been one of the most popular cheerleaders at school and homecoming queen. She knew how to handle vain, uncouth Santana Lopez types.

Except she had never met anyone quite as hot as Santana before.

Now that she was so physically close to Santana, she couldn’t stop herself from checking the girl out, noticing that she was slightly shorter than her with a toned, slim build that the simple black dress she was wearing displayed so well. Brittany couldn’t help but notice the slight muscle tone in her arms and how radiant her brown skin was.

Santana gave her another smug look, as if she could tell that Brittany liked what she saw. Whatever. If she thought Brittany was just going to give in to her, she had another thing coming.

If there was one thing Brittany knew, it was flirting.

She learned it straight from her blonde, buxom mother, the original harlot and heartbreaker of Lima in her day before she had settled down. If she wanted to, she could get this girl into bed, easy as ABC.

Brittany didn’t even have to try and that’s exactly why she wasn’t gonna let her get what she wanted so easily.

The blonde dancer totally knew the effect she had on her. It was so easy to rile the dark-haired woman up and as she beckoned her closer with a finger, Santana kept gazing at her lips, making it so obvious what she wanted.

She leaned closer, knowing that Santana would feel her breathing against her neck and as she expected, there was a sharp, aroused intake of breath from the Latina.

She even closed her eyes, puckering her lips as if Brittany was going to kiss her.

As if.

“My name is no. My sign is no. My number is no. You need to let it go.”

She couldn’t stop giggling at the sight of Santana frozen in place with her lips sticking out, clearly not expecting this turn of events as Brittany just sang that song to her.

No kisses for you, Hot Shot, She smiled to herself.

Talk about embarrassing. How was Ms. Big Shot Movie Star ever gonna recover from that one?

Brittany was a professional dancer and she could easily outdo everyone in the club but that didn’t seem to stop Santana from trying to keep up with her. She began to dance beside her energetically as Temperature by Sean Paul played.

“You’re cocky. That’s how you dance?” Brittany was in stunned disbelief yet again, amused by the way Santana was being so ridiculous. She was clearly trying so hard to impress her and it was having the opposite effect. Santana was being such a clown and people around them were starting to give them strange looks.

“You like that, huh, Babe?” The woman was all up on her, her arm settling around her waist as she husked into her ear. “You want all up on this, don’t you? I’ll make you feel so good, Princess. Trust me. I’ll make you scream my name.”

Santana’s voice was so hazy and raspy. Brittany felt heat rush to her face, right up her neck to her ears, shocked by what she heard… and kind of intrigued. Santana couldn’t really think Brittany would give in just from that locker room talk. She didn’t want Santana to see how affected she was by her comment but of course, Santana saw everything.

Apparently the woman noticed the blush on Brittany’s face too and she was amused.

“Is that so?” She challenged, making sure to flutter her eyelashes.

“You bet. I think we should get to know each other better. Preferably with way less clothes on.”

Was that the best Santana had?

“Hmm, oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? What else?”

“Roses are red, violets are fine. You be a six and I’ll be a nine.”

Santana might have been the funniest person to ever exist. She couldn’t be for real.

“Mm hm. Is that all?”

The celebrity began to tell her all about what she wanted to do with her when she got her in bed, making her appreciation for Brittany’s ass obvious. She wasn’t expecting her to grind up on her like that. The feeling of Santana’s hips moving against hers and her husky voice against her ear made it kind of hard for her to remember that she wasn’t supposed to give in to her.

She was such a horny jerk and Brittany’s jaw dropped in disbelief at how crude she was being as the blush in her cheeks intensified.

Santana was just a little too excited, acting as if she was entitled to getting into Brittany’s pants and that just wouldn’t do. At least not until Brittany was ready for that. If she decided she wanted her. Brittany was gonna have to remind her to back off a little until she wined and dined her enough - if Brittany deigned to allow her to.

She wagged a finger.

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so.”

She needed to extract herself from Santana’s arms. So she raised her knee the way she saw on a TV show about women defending themselves from muggers and got her right up in the area between her legs.

Not in a fun way either.

Santana’s eyes went comically wide in stunned disbelief and she took a tumble on her ass.

“Did I do that? Oops! My Bad!” She giggled with faux-innocence, not meaning a word of it.

Brittany walked back over to her friends victoriously as they clapped and cheered for her. In fact, almost the entire club had stopped to watch the whole spectacle as Santana struggled to regain her dignity.

“Brittany, I am so proud of you. You are the ultimate boss, oh my God!” Tina congratulated her then turned back to her phone. “Santana Lopez getting clamslammed and kneed right in the vagina by a mystery woman is already trending on Twitter.”

“You’re not leaving with her?” Sugar looked shocked when the blonde waltzed over, making her exit. Brittany not going home with someone, especially someone like Santana, was about as rare as a blue moon. “This never happens. She’s just your type. She’s rich, super famous, good-looking, shallow, dumb…”

“Not really. She’s gonna have to try harder if she wants all of this.” Brittany flipped her hair over her shoulder with complete confidence and sass, gesturing to the curves of her body. She knew Santana could hear her. Santana blinked at her stupidly a few times, apparently disoriented by her hotness.

She turned just in time to see Santana limping over to her pathetically.

Brittany was confused. Why was Santana gazing at her in fascination, as if Brittany was the most gorgeous, entrancing being she had ever encountered even though her groin and ego were in a world of hurt?

“What’s your name?”

Maybe it was because Santana was so cute but Brittany couldn’t help but flirt a little despite herself. Maybe she didn’t want their game to be over just yet. They were both sweaty and flushed, somewhat breathless from all the dancing.

“You need to let it go,” She teased, watching Santana closely as the woman attempted to regain her composure and act like she was unaffected. “It’s Brittany.”

____

That would be far from the last she saw of Ms. Can't Take No For An Answer, even if she had humiliated her.

She had never met anyone quite as determined and persistent as Santana Lopez.

Apparently, when the Empress of the Universe wanted something, she always got her way and she wasn’t accustomed to being told “No.”

Apparently Santana was really into the whole prissy mean girl side of Brittany.

She was also the most obvious person on the face of the planet. Brittany snorted when Tina sent her a link to a new article. The headline was pretty interesting.

Santana Lopez Dedicates New Hit Single to Mystery Blonde - Who is “Brittany from The Pussy Cat?”

A video of her giving Santana a swift knee upward to the vaginal area had gone viral as well.

Even Santana’s hardcore fans were amused by it all.

Brittany noticed that Santana had left a bunch of comments on her thirst traps, making it extremely clear what she thought of them. The internet was going crazy making fun of how lusty and obsessed Santana was being but that hadn’t seemed to deter the woman either, despite Brittany ignoring all of her attempts to hit on her.

That Brittany S. Pierce must have some Grade A Prime Pussy for Santana to be simping this hard for her…

“Jesus Christ, the thirst,” Tina chuckled as Mike, Marley and Sugar couldn’t stop giggling beside her on the couch in the blonde’s apartment when she showed them her phone screen. They read yet another private message the woman sent to Brittany that was strongly suggesting what she wanted to do with her. “Goddamn. She really wants you.”

“She’s just horny for me. She’ll get over it.”

I’m just another conquest for her…

“Be honest, do you think she’s attractive?” Sugar asked, raising an eyebrow. “At all?”

She had watched all of Santana’s scenes on Bad Girls Club several times, looked at a bunch of her magazine photoshoots - she figured she needed to do her research, after all - and she even loved her songs that flopped. That didn’t mean anything though. Santana Lopez was just a silly pompous rich girl just like the rest of them.

“I mean, if you’re into the whole disgruntled, awkward cat aesthetic maybe. Her upper lip kinda reminds me of a duck.” She deflected.

Everyone laughed as she said this.

“You definitely should stay away from her. I know Santana well and she’s a total arrogant jerk. She thinks of women as disposable objects.”

“Oh, is she?” Brittany snorted sarcastically. “That’s a shocker. Don’t worry, Tina, believe me you don’t have to worry about me falling for her.”

Brittany’s apartment was so very pink and decorated in such an eccentric way that most people were a little taken aback when they walked in for the first time.

Eventually, her entire living space became crowded with bouquets of pink flowers Santana had sent to her address. She sent ridiculously expensive jewellery, chocolates, and dresses. Brittany didn’t even know how she figured out all of Brittany’s favourite colours and things like that but she wasn’t about to get rid of them… she liked expensive gifts.

She never responded to any of Santana’s gifts, knowing it would drive her insane. Santana got her number from Tina and Mike, who were their mutual friends. Truth be told, Tina had always found Santana annoying anyway and they were more like frenemies as that feeling was mutual, so she was happy to assist Brittany in her plan to troll Santana.

Brittany answered Santana’s calls just enough to toy with her and keep her guessing, then ignored her whenever she felt like it.

It was all part of her plan.

“What am I supposed to do with all of this stuff?” The blonde whined halfheartedly as Lord Tubbington knocked over the growing pile of chocolate boxes.

“You could send it back if you really don’t want it.” Mike suggested with a shrug.

“I would… but pink diamonds are really nice,” Brittany pouted. “I might need another dress too.”

“This almost sounds like one of those sugar daddy type of situations,” The man shook his head at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not surprised, since it’s you after all.”

“Except, she won’t be getting any sugar.” Britt winked. Tina smirked at her in agreement, giving her a high five.

“You are the queen of manipulation. You’re really gonna get this woman to spend herself bankrupt, aren’t you? Yes, Girl. I say, use all the power you have to your advantage. Stress that fuckgirl out. Make her work for it, Britt. Make her suffer!”

Sugar, Marley and Jake fell silent, taken aback by the short, gothic woman. Mike glanced over with a nervous expression as he heard Tina’s words, followed by her evil cackle.

“You’re torturing the shit out of her! I love it. Get it, Girl.”

Brittany felt proud.

“Hey, if she wants all this she’s gonna have to work for it.”

“Hey, Britt, I think there’s someone at your door. Must be another delivery from Ms. Egomaniac.” Sugar chimed in.

The tall blonde just shrugged, traipsing over and eventually returning with a new parcel. Brittany blushed reddish pink up to her ears, gasping at a new, skimpy lingerie set that she unwrapped. She held up the light blue, lacy lingerie as her friends began to wolf whistle jokingly and some of them made gagging noises.

Against her better judgment, she answered Santana’s call when that familiar number flashed on her phone a few minutes later.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve sending this,” She sniffed, trying to sound bitchy and cold as she told her off. “Do you really think that’s appropriate? You horny bastard.”

Santana was laughing down the line. She was actually laughing, that cheeky bitch.

“You like it, Babe? Gonna put it on and model it just for me, Querida?”

“I am not your Querida.”

She did like the lingerie a lot but Santana didn’t need to know that. If her ego got any bigger it would probably explode.

She hung up before Santana could answer. Deep down, she knew Santana would love that response even more.

****Read the rest of this story on AO3

#brittana #brittany s. pierce #santana lopez #Brittany Pierce #Glee #Brittana Fanfiction #Santana and Brittany #my fics #My Name is No series #Brittana AU

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cherubkeery · 11 months

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I Miss You, I’m Sorry

Part 3 of Cab Driver Theory

Steve eyes were running down the page of the letter you’d left. His heart felt like it’d been shot at. He read the letter four times and more over. He’d even shown Robin the note. He could see her going through the stages of grief herself, she’d punched him really hard on the arm.

“Robin, ow!” He said, as he rubbed his arm.

“Robin, ow nothing. Look! I told you you had to pick between one of them. Now you lost Y/n. You really think she was going to be okay with what you were doing with Nancy?” Robin said, she looked furious, in a way he’d never seen before.

He looked down in shame, he knew she was right. He could have ended things with you to be with Nancy. But he realized how greedy he’d gotten. He wanted the both of you and he didn’t know who he would have chosen, looks like you made that choice for him.

.•° ✿ °•.

The following months, he’d realized how much he’d lost you. All your things were gone, there wasn’t a trace of you in sight. Tears were always at the brim of his eyes. He wanted you back, he’d even stopped seeing Nancy. But he knew he had to do more for you to come back. For you to be his again.

A knock came from the door and he went to go answer it. He probably looked like a ghost because he definitely felt like one. A small part of him held hope it would be you. Holding your bags in hand, asking him to let you come in. So you can work things out. But all he saw was a man in a black suit. With a brief case. He stared at him confused before speaking.

“Are you Steve Harrington?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” Before Steve could say anymore, the man pulled out a stack of paper.

“You’ve been served.”

The man handed him over the papers before walking away. There in bold letters were the words he really hoped he didn’t have to see. Divorce papers, seriously? No, he wouldn’t let you throw everything away because of his stupid mistakes. He needed you and he knew you loved him. This was a mistake, all of it.

Steve left the papers on his counter. Your counter, you will be home soon. He knew it, he just did. In his heart, he knew you still lived there. And he knew he still lived in yours.

.•° ✿ °•.

His rapped his fist against the door, Steve felt his heart beating faster than it ever did. He’d hasn’t seen your face in six months. Six months, too long. Robin had reluctantly told him where you lived now. He’d hated that you had a place to call home, where he wasn’t. He knew how selfish that sounded but he didn’t care. In his eyes, you were still his.

“Hey, the pizza-.” You stopped short. Your face went from at ease and friendly big smile. To suddenly cold. His heart sank at the way your expression changed. So fast and so sudden. “I see you got the divorce papers. Why else would you be here?”

“Yes, I did. I-.” He didn’t know where to start. There was so much to say to you. Sorry being one of the many words he wanted to use. But before he could say anything—

“Steve, I mean this with so much disrespect and disgust. But get out of here, I don’t want anything to do with you. Go be with Nancy. You’re finally free to do so.” You said, your voice was cold. Your energy was cold. The words you spoke send a thousands bullets to his heart. How could you say that?

“No—I know I messed up, okay. I- I came here to-.”

“Baby, who’s at the door? It better be the pizza delivery guy.” A voice he’d never heard before came at the door. A blonde woman/man stood there, the expression on their face falling once seeing who it is. Steve instantly felt the rise of jealousy.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck is this? Really, you cheated on me?” Steve said, your eyes narrowed and you let out a dry laugh.

“Cheated on you? Seriously? Oh come on now, Steve. That’s really rich coming from you.”

“You can leave right now, Buddy. Or else.” Steve eyes narrowed at your new lover. It felt so evil for them to hold you by the arm in the way they were. Protectively, as if you needed to be protected from him.

“Steve, sign the papers. Okay, I don’t know how you even found me. But it’s over, okay Oo—ver.” You went to shut the door but Steve placed his foot where the door was.

“No— I love you. I know you love me. Okay, I ended things with Nancy. It’s over, I shouldn’t have never- I shouldn’t have-.”

“You shouldn’t have but you did. That doesn’t change anything. Let me go Steve. I need you to let me go.” You sounded about ready to cry, he could see the way your bottom lip trembled. He didn’t even care that your lover was watching. He felt his own lip began to tremble.

“I-.”

“You heard her, leave.”

It took every ounce of Steve to make his feet work again. The door closed behind him, he felt so defeated. And now so lost because he’d ruined things with you. He never would have imagined he would have lost you. All because of a stupid mistake. One, he shouldn’t have made in the first place. A whole relationship down the drain because he thought he could have his cake and eat it too.

He walked back to his car and didn’t drive until his eyes cleared from all the tears. You were supposed to be Mrs. Harrington. You were supposed to be his, but now you were with them. Your new lover.

Once he drove home, he finally had the guts to sign the papers. Letting you go as you’d ask.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst

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butterflydm · 1 year

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wot reread: the gathering storm (chapter 26-33)

spoilers for the gathering storm

1. Genuinely so ridiculous that I’m meant to believe that Aviendha didn’t go talk to Rand after The Event of the last section. It’s not like the Wise Ones have forbidden it or anything! yep, @markantonys - Aviendha thinks here that she ~dismissed Rand’s pain~ last night as a nightmare and I just... this does not seem believable to me on any level and just sounds like an excuse not to have her in the scene.

2. Anyway, after a month of Min completely ignoring this situation and taking advantage of Aviendha's avoidance of Rand (because she is inherently a selfish and jealous person who should NOT be in any kind of poly-adjacent relationship*), she’s decided to talk to Aviendha. But even now, Min is here because of “me me ME” reasons and not actually any genuine concern about Aviendha -- she wants someone to complain about Rand to, because she feels like he doesn’t trust her anymore. Maybe you should try being trustworthy, Min.

*I will note here that there's nothing wrong with Min being monogamous! That is 100% not the issue. The issue is that she KNEW she was unhappy with the idea of sharing her boyfriend with other people and yet actively chased after and seduced someone that she KNEW already was going to be involved with two other women! She knew! And yet she CAUSED the situation that makes her miserable out of her belief that since her prophecies are inevitable, she might as well actively try to hurt herself using them. And that's just... I'm sorry, that's just a stupid choice for her to make and I feel zero pity over all her ~internal suffering~ over this situation that SHE CREATED for herself (and again, Mat does the exact same thing with Tuon but his situation is even more frustrating because at least Min was set up as this character who believes so deeply in her own infallibility that she traps herself into her own unhappiness -- Mat was NOT set up as that character but inexplicably becomes just like Min when ~the moment~ arrives). Min would, otoh, probably be very happy in a relationship with someone like Perrin, who would be eager to focus on her to the exclusion of everything else in the world.

3. Min says she was ~worried~ when Aviendha didn’t come talk to her when she first arrived here with the rest of the Aiel. lol, liar. You were relieved you didn’t have to share Rand yet. I read your PoVs earlier in the book! Anyway, Min soon reveals that her true worry was that Aviendha might challenge her for Rand (...has everyone forgotten the shared confession & bonding?), and when Aviendha is basically like ‘lol I would only fight someone if they actually have skill at fighting’ (and Elayne asked her to be nice to Min, so she’s doing her best, lol), Min gets offended and tries to show off her ~knife flourishing skills~ which just makes Aviendha even more dubious that she has any real skill at all. “Why was it that wetlanders always showed off such flourishes with their knives? Thom Merrillin had been prone to that as well. Didn’t Min understand that Aviendha could have slit the woman’s throat thrice over during the time it took to flash that knife like a street performer?” Like... it’s not a competition, but it’s clear that if there ever WAS any competition between Min & either of the other two girls, Min would get smoked in a heartbeat.

Maybe that’s why Min remains so insecure and jealous, even when she’s the one in Rand’s bed. She knows that she only ‘wins’ her precious private non-sharing time with Rand because the other two are staying away right now for personal reasons.

4. The conversation with Min does annoy/frustrate Aviendha to the point of stalking away from her latest punishment from the Wise Ones. She sees Rand, who actually raises a hand and clearly wants to speak with her (I guess the events of last night woke him out of his month-long apathy?), and Aviendha lets herself get ANGRY over how unfair the situation is. Min “gets what [she] wish[es]” and Aviendha only gets punishments even while the day when the man she loves dies is coming closer and closer. She confronts the Wise Ones, and is told that her unwillingness to accept the unfair punishments that they are giving her is the sign that she is ready for the final test of becoming a Wise One and going to Rhuidean. ...and of course, Aviendha leaves without saying goodbye to Rand. They exchanged a SINGLE WORD in A WHOLE MONTH. That is so frustrating. Why was Aviendha even in Rand’s plotline if she had zero impact on it?

5. Here’s my opinion on what should have happened with Aviendha (though, obviously, my guesses are entirely my own): there was zero indication before this book that Aviendha needed to be a Wise One to romance Rand? In fact, her romancing Rand as an apprentice was ENCOURAGED by the Wise Ones back in The Fires of Heaven. So, cut out all that nonsense about her not having enough honor to hang out with Rand. Aviendha should have gotten private/personal time with Rand. This also should have been a time when Aviendha and Min actually learned each other as people instead of avoiding each other for a month. And, big change: Aviendha should have been studying Callandor because she literally can touch magic objects (ter’angreal) and detect what sort of magic (weaves) they do! I will die on this hill, lol. Aviendha working past her cultural taboos about swords to touch Callandor to help Rand & save the world sounds like it would have been a more engaging struggle to read about than her enduring endless punishments from the Wise Ones, at least for me. And it would even fit into a similar theme -- Aviendha standing up to the others and saying “To save the world, it is worth me doing this thing that breaks our taboos” could also have been something to serve as a trigger for the Wise Ones to say “yes, you have proven that you will stand up for yourself as a Wise One should”. It's so frustrating that Aviendha has a Talent that was used really only one time in the entire series despite... obviously being very useful.

6. Alternatively: do Aviendha’s plotline in another location. Because having Aviendha in Rand’s plotline and yet not actually intersect it at all is just silly.

7. At least Mat IS still heading north, even if it’s at an annoyingly slow pace. Slaver princess has made it all the way back to Ebou Dar (a distance that took them two books to cover) and he’s still in bloody Altara! Mat whines about the Aes Sedai not letting him go to the village on his own. Yeah, they don’t trust you. For good reason. You can’t DO untrustworthy things and then still expect people to trust you. (my issues with pod!Mat from Crossroads onward really are pretty similar to my issues with Min - the constant whining about the consequences of their own actions). You sheltered, protected, and defended the woman who wants to enslave them. Of course they don’t trust you anymore!

8. One of Mat’s first thoughts when he’s talking to Thom about rescuing Moiraine is how Rand will react to seeing her alive. Aw. That’s sweet! Mat can occasionally still make me feel An Emotion that isn’t related to irritation. That’s nice. It’s nice to see that a tiny hint of pre-CoT Mat still survives in there. We get him thinking about Rand again a couple of pages later, fretting over his missing hand and worrying about him. He tries to convince himself that he’s glad to be well away from Rand, and this moment does capture, I think, that vibe of Mat loudly lying to himself in his own head. This moment is the first time that Mat has really felt like MAT is a long while. He defends Rand instinctively here when Thom tries to insult him, flaring up very protectively.

9. Mat thinks here that he’s not a hero, just a fool. And, at this point in the book series, I agree with him. He IS a fool now, and certainly no hero.

10. Thom’s speech here about the Wheel and people reminds me of what Moiraine said in the show to Logain: “The Wheel is not hope, and the Wheel does not care, the Wheel simply is. But as long as it turns, folk may hope, folk may care.” vs Moiraine’s - “The Wheel doesn’t want things. It’s people that want.”

11. And Thom joins the gang of going “lol Mat is married” and not caring about the kind of the person that he’s married to. I mean, Mat’s wife literally would put a collar around the neck of the woman that Thom is currently trying to rescue, but apparently that doesn’t matter at all to Thom. He doesn’t care that Tuon would strip Moiraine of her name, of her dignity, of her sense of self. Tuon’s quality as a person doesn’t matter at all, just that he gets to laugh at Mat for ~acting married~.

12. We also come back here to something that I find annoying: the implication that marriage just changes you as a person, all on its own, even in the absence of your spouse or any good qualities on their part! Wedding vows are a magic spell! I don’t think that the show will play the marriage that way (if we get there), because the show has already shown an awareness with Mat’s parents’ marriage that marriage doesn’t magically make irresponsible people responsible or cruel people kind. Marriage is a specific legal way of forming a relationship, but it’s the relationship itself that defines the marriage and the people in it. Mat showed plenty of responsibility BEFORE he ever Said The Words to Tuon (in fact, he Said The Words while he was in the middle of committing a crime of deep responsibility and saving people from slavery) and Thom should know that. Thom has witnessed some of Mat’s greatest acts of responsibility. He should know better than anyone (except Rand) that Mat has ALWAYS lied about not being a responsible person. This is not a new thing that has been brought about by the mystical influence of marriage vows.

12. Mat wants to know where Rand is! ...so that he knows where to avoid, of course, lol. Oh, Mat. It feels like it’s been a while since I said “Oh, Mat” in a fond way instead of an irritated way. “I feel like I’ve been traveling through a tunnel for months now, with no sight or sound of the outside world.” Yeah, abusive relationships can thrive when they’re able to take root at times when the person is isolated from their other meaningful relationships, and when they’re deeply vulnerable. And now Tuon’s hooks are deep into Mat, unfortunately. That's such a depressing sentence but it also shows a clear awareness of the type of relationship that Mat is in with Tuon so... idk. That's interesting.

13. Honestly, given that Mat has already let Tuon normalize slavery for Olver, I don’t see how hanging out with the Band can ‘corrupt’ him any worse than that.

14. Hinderstap itself is an interesting enough horror-eske town but it’s just annoying how much it further delays Mat getting back to the main storyline. It’s hard for me to be invested when I want Mat to interact with people that I already know and care about rather than complete randoms. I kinda feel like that’s all I really have to say about this whole section. I feel like I would have a lot more patience for this if it were coming directly after Winter’s Heart, as Mat was originally escaping Ebou Dar, but I’m just so annoyed with the side quest vibes of the ~Mat and Tuon Pointless Circus Journey~ that it bleeds over into just wanting him the FUCK out of Altara already.

I've spent a lot of time during this reread trying to figure out where exactly the hitch was that slowed everything down in the writing and I kinda have it narrowed down to Mat or Perrin. Egwene's timeline is flexible -- Jordan could have said it needed less than a month for her to gather supplies before Traveling directly to Tar Valon (Gawyn's timeline was wholly dependent on Egwene's). So, Egwene isn't the problem. Elayne's also could have been given earlier inciting incidents to wrap up sooner (she spends a lot of time just waiting for the other side to do something too), so she wasn't causing the slowdown. Rand was literally sitting around a mansion waiting for a whole month for the Seanchan to reply to his messages. Nynaeve is just attached to Rand's storyline at this point and not helming her own.

And as much as Perrin's storyline bored/frustrated me at times... his timeline is also flexible, like Egwene's is -- there was no specific need for Faile to spend two months captive. She was captive as long as she was because Perrin's rescue of her involved the Seanchan and his slaver BFF Tylee is the person who proves to Tuon that Trollocs really exist... and Tylee can't do that if Tuon isn't back in Ebou Dar.

We were waiting on the Seanchan domino to fall before anything else could happen. Mat and Tuon's storyline is the one that bogged everyone else down logistically, in CoT & KoD. Both Perrin and Rand, especially, have to wait until Tuon is on the cusp of returning to Ebou Dar before their plotlines can progress. The Mat and Tuon enemies-to-spouses speedrun novella is what made everything else slow down to a crawl during CoT/KoD. Looking at the logistics, that's what makes the most sense to me. Jordan DID realize that he needed to do his best to make Mat and Tuon believable in order for the endgame of the story to work, so he invested a lot of time into it. imo he failed. But he put everyone else on pause while he forced the square peg into the round hole so that at least they LOOKED like they fit together, for now. (it's just that his solution was to carve out pieces of Mat so that Tuon would fit -- snip away his independence here, trim off his objections to slavery there, shave away his feelings about nobles abusing their power, etc -- and that's why the end result felt like a failure to me, because CoT/KoD Mat didn't feel like MAT to me).

15. There is another good moment here when Mat is talking about how running away doesn’t actually help and he bitterly says that he wishes everything would go bother Rand (prompting another vision) and then admits to Thom that he doesn’t mean it and that he doesn’t believe that Rand likes all the horrible things either. (also, for all that the narrative keeps trying to tell us that the “three ta’veren boys” are the ones connected through the visions, Mat and Rand have a MUCH higher ratio of thinking of/having visions of each other than either of them does with Perrin; and Perrin is very good at quickly dismissing any thoughts of them without dwelling for paragraphs).

I’m honestly still puzzled at how Mat knows that the woman in Rand’s bed is Min. He’s been in the same city as her only twice in the entire book series (both very early on and not for a long period of time) and never got a proper introduction - one of those times was Baerlon and the other time was in Falme and they might not have ever seen each other at all that time, since we know Mat & co left before Rand ever woke up and Min was hovering very possessively over Rand during that time. It’s honestly not confirmed that Mat EVER saw her at all before he ‘recognized’ her in his visions of Rand having sex with her.

(this is not a Sanderson thing -- Mat was able to instantly recognize Min in his visions back in CoT/KoD as well).

I think I may have mentioned this before, but I suspect that in some original version of Lord of Chaos, Mat and Min’s paths actually crossed in Caemlyn rather than them missing each other by three days. But Mat being able to recognize Min instantly in his rainbow ta’veren visions feels off because Jordan was normally impressively good at keeping in mind what the characters actually knew about each other. Because even if Mat did see her in Falme, Min has changed her look up a lot! Her previously straight and super-short hair is now in ringlets that she curls daily (...which I have my suspicions is because Elayne has natural curls and Min is VERY competitive), and while she’s still wearing trousers, the TYPE has changed drastically. Back in EOTW, her clothing was simply described as “she wore a man’s shirt and trousers” but now her shirts are cut low to show cleavage and her breeches are so tight that she has trouble pulling them on and she wears boots so tall that it adds a pronounced sway to her walk. That’s drastically different than just “a man’s shirt and trousers”. She used to wear practical clothes and now she’s basically doing her own episode of Project Runway every day.

Here’s the quote from EotW where Rand tells Mat about Min:

After a while he found himself telling Mat about Min.

“A dagger with a ruby, eh?” Mat said. “I like that. I don’t know about the eye, though. Are you sure she wasn’t making it up? It seems to me she would know what it all means if she really is a soothsayer.”

“She didn’t say she’s a soothsayer,” Rand said. “I believe she does see things. Remember, Moiraine was talking to her when we finished our baths. And she knows who Moiraine is.”

And then the conversation moves on to Moiraine. The conversation was focused on Min’s abilities and not her looks.

Then in TGH:

“Gone.” Min’s face colored. “They’re all gone. Egwene and Nynaeve, and Mat, and Hurin, and Verin.”

That’s the only time that Min and Mat would have potentially actually met and Mat was, well, not exactly himself. Min did see the Horn of Valere, so she may have met Mat during that time. Once, briefly, lol.

Per TDR, Mat was so sick during the journey to Tar Valon that he’s unconscious for days at a time. And, of course, when he does finally wake up, he has those famous holes in his memory that he becomes desperate to fill. Mat and Min do not know each other! Potentially briefly when one of them was so sick that he lost almost all his memories of that time does not count as ‘knowing each other’. They know OF each other (because of Rand), but they do not know each other.

16. Definitely out of character for Joline to call Mat ‘Matrim’. She’s never done it before and she wouldn’t taint herself by calling him the same name that the slaver woman calls him anyway.

17. Mat does mention here that the worse things get and the more tragic his life is, the more he feels the urge to try to laugh it away. I feel like that ties back into Mat’s hysterical laughter at the end of Crossroads of Twilight when Tuon has made herself grand-captain-owner of the circus or whatever and he’s feeling well and truly trapped by her but... yeah. It’s just... frustrating. The entire Mat and Tuon ‘relationship’ rests on the foundation of Mat straight-up ignoring the majority of Tuon’s personality in order to focus on the tiny bits of her that aren’t a toxic horror show and force himself into loving those teeny-tiny non-trash parts of her, but it also feels like that text only ever glancingly acknowledges that this is what he’s doing? So it just all feels super weird that the narration tries really hard to ignore (in Mat PoV) that he’s married to a slaver (and not just by Mat! By the other characters too!) but in Tuon's PoV, it’s clear how deeply that part of her is foundational to her personality and her life choices. It’s jarring but in a way that doesn’t feel... intentional? I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. But I’m going to keep that “the worse things get for me personally, the more I laugh about it” note in mind as we continue with Mat.

18. imo, the main part where Sanderson falls down here in comparison to Jordan is not in Mat’s characterization (Mat’s character was thoroughly trashed in CoT & KoD already; frankly, there have been genuine moments in this section of TGS where I have actually Kinda Liked Mat Again, something that I was beginning to doubt would ever happen after CoT & KoD crushed my affection for him out of me) -- but in the absence in the text so far of Juilin, Amathera, Egeanin, etc. Jordan was... and I really do wish that he’d left more notes behind on the Seanchan, because I DESPERATELY wish that I knew what was going on in his brain... even as the Mat & Tuon storyline was... a horrific waste of potential... Jordan had the secondary characters basically doing the storyline that Tuon SHOULD have been doing. And that secondary storyline is something that we have lost here -- with Juilin and Amathera, with Egeanin and Doman, with Aludra, and with the two remaining ex-sul’dam. The Aes Sedai still exist here as part of Mat’s story, as well as Thom, Talmanes, and Olver, but the rest of the secondary characters have faded into being fully background characters, at least for now. And given that in CoT & KoD Jordan stripped all the anti-slavery sentiment out of Mat’s character and only let it exist in the secondary characters, that means that any anti-slavery sentiment is now entirely gone from Mat’s storyline. I feel like this was probably more an artifact of trying to focus on “the main story” rather than any other intentions, but I feel the loss of it.

19. Rand’s List (of Women he has gotten killed that reminds him Never Kill Women) is running through his head, featuring such hits as:

Moiraine, who ‘died’ entirely because Rand refuses to kill women

a woman who was literally trying to kill him

the woman who sold him to the White Tower for a crown

an actual Forsaken who was actively trying to force him to murder his girlfriend

20. Rand wonders here if Lanfear is alive again, the way that Ishamael is alive as Moridin, making Moiraine’s sacrifice mean nothing. “The list would remain, but he would never again be too weak to do what must be done”. *hums thoughtfully*

21. Rand’s paranoia is starting to touch even people who haven’t ever hidden things from him, like Dobraine (...hey, wait, if Dobraine is here, then who is running Cairhien right now? Wasn’t he in charge of Cairhien? yeah, it mentions here that he was recently Steward of Cairhien. I do not remember Dobraine being sent off to Arad Doman. Did that happen in KoD and my brain just skipped over it?). lol, Rand’s revisionist history here about “mostly” trusting Moiraine. You “mostly” did not trust her, bro. I was there. This is retroactive trust based on the fact that she ‘died’ for you.

22. lol, Cadsuane is trailing along behind Rand’s group, making sure to stay out of sight in order to Technically be following his threat to her. Rand is basically just like “yeah fine, as long as she doesn’t try to bother me, whatever”. He did take back the Choden Kal that she’d stolen from him. I’m assuming he took back anything else she might have stolen too.

23. Min gets to be added to Rand’s Fridged Ladies list even though she’s still alive! Why is that so funny to me? Also, sheesh, Rand, tell LTT to at least call her by her preferred name. Seriously, though, if nearly killing Min traumatized Rand (which I agree that it SHOULD have done) then... she absolutely should not still be in the same city as him and definitely not in the same bed. Rand not sending Min away to somewhere he deems ‘safe’ would be very very out of character (though this isn't new with Rand & Min). He NEARLY KILLED HER. He shouldn’t want her anywhere near him, in case he actually DOES kill her the next time. But Min has nowhere else to go and nothing to contribute, so she’ll probably stay in Rand’s storyline for now, despite it making zero sense.

The way that it’s justified in Rand’s plotline here is that he’s “stopped caring”. Not about Min, per se, just about whether or not Min dies because of his actions. Seems like a distinction without a difference, but okay, lol. “If she died, he would add her to the list and suffer for it.”

The thing is... okay, I see what Sanderson is trying to do here -- showing that Rand’s nihilism is reaching the breaking point by using Min as the “he’s willing to risk even Min’s death because he no longer sees escaping death as possible or even desirable” marker line but the problem is that Rand was ALREADY dragging Min into dangerous situations even before the event with Semirhage. Like, he was keeping Min in his bed while avoiding Aviendha. He took Min to the cleansing and to Far Madding to kill the traitors even while trying to limit how much danger would come to Elayne or Aviendha. He let Min ‘talk’ him into taking her to the meeting with ‘the Daughter of the Nine Moons’. So there’s already a precedent of Rand being willing to risk Min’s dying on his account, so the change is not as striking as it would be if he were thinking this about Elayne, Aviendha, or his dad, or literally ANY of the Two Rivers’ soldiers who came along with Perrin in LoC, all of whom he has been avoiding to try to protect them. This is basically the same thing that Jordan did with Rand and Min SEVERAL times, where Rand has ~hardened himself~ yet again but is always ~too weak and soft~ to send Min away. I think this exact scenario happens at least three or four times in the series, lol.

24. Now this conversation with Merise, where Rand is cold and quiet (and thinking deeply disturbing things about why get worked up about people annoying him if he can just ~snuff them out like a candle~ if they bother him too much) much more effectively conveys Rand’s shift in mindstate, imo. Rand is deeply right at that intersection of scary/sexy, where he projects being cold and ruthless yet is still... on the side of the good guys. But in a way that is somewhat worrisome. Sure, he’s definitely still planning to save the world... but how much of the world would he let burn in the name of ‘the ends justify the means’?

25. Oooh, Rand is carrying the sa’angreal as a way of distracting himself from wanting to reach out to the True Power again. He thinks here how the Dark One was originally rediscovered as a limitless source of power. Now that he’s used the True Power, it’s a temptation to use it again, so he’s using the additional temptation of near-limitless saidin at his fingertips to help trap him between the two so that he won’t use either of them. That’s clever -- it reminds me of how he played the evil of Shadar Logoth against the evil of the Dark One.

26. Rand thinking fiercely here about how he “would not be collared again” which mirrors Egwene thinking about it during her last dinner with Elaida when Elaida was dismissing the danger of the Seanchan. Mirrors! Foils! Why doesn’t the narrative ever let Rand directly identify with the people who share so much in common with him? (again, a frustration that dates back into the Jordan books)

27. Hmm, Rand misses Aviendha, and wishes she hadn’t avoided him during their shared month in Arad Doman, but thinks that it’s probably better that she left, so that Rand won’t. You know. Accidentally kill her or be the reason she gets killed. The exact thing that he’s given up on worrying about re: Min, in other words. “His enemies didn’t know of her yet.” (which is implied is the real reason that Rand didn’t try to bridge the gap between them when they were all together). But the only reason that your enemies know about Min is because you publicly parade her around as your mistress, so that kinda seems like it’s on you. Again it’s... that same weird dynamic comes up where Rand expresses his love for EVERYONE ELSE (Aviendha, Elayne, his father, literally all the Two Rivers’ soldiers) by trying to stay away from them, but he’s given up on trying to ‘protect’ Min and just figures he’ll ~add her to the list~ if he gets her killed/unintentionally kills her. Rand’s protectiveness hasn’t changed! This is exactly what he was doing before the Event with Semirhage! It’s not that he’s any colder when it comes to the people he cares about; it’s that he’s always been willing to risk Min’s life.

(again: I don’t even think that this attitude of his is healthy! I think he should be willing to let the people he cares about make their own choices about the risks they choose but! the contrast between how he treats the other people he loves vs Min is... just weird, especially since she’s much more vulnerable/helpless than either Aviendha or Elayne, or his father and the Two Rivers’ soldiers, for that matter. The most helpless one is also the one that he feels the least willpower to actually protect. It’s SUCH a strange dynamic. Like, if Min and Rand’s relationship had been outed due to no choice of their own, so Rand was just rolling with the consequences of that, that would be one thing, but he was literally parading her around in public and she was ~famous~ in Cairhien for being in his bed. like, the only reason that their relationship is public is because they chose to make it that way -- again, the obvious contrast is Min saying how it’s smart that Elayne tore down his banners, so that the Forsaken would be less likely to go after Elayne as Rand’s love, and Rand reluctantly agreeing with that logic. Elayne and Aviendha are to be protected from Rand’s enemies, but Min has practically been held out as bait - and, like, if that were a deliberate strategy, that would be one thing and potentially very clever as long as Min DID have a secret way of protecting herself (like Mat's medallion, for example, lol), but it’s clear in both Rand and Min’s thoughts that this is NOT a deliberate strategy so all it does is make it look like Rand subconsciously has already written off Min as dead and thus expendable -- I mean, now she’s even already on his list of Dead Ladies!)

28. (Rand does wonder here if “Min’s presence” had kept Aviendha away during their month together -- again, no thoughts about... you know. That big group Bonding? Apparently not. They all confessed their love to him at the same time and said they would share him, but Rand shows no memory of this event, lol)

29. While Rand is definitely having some very concerning moments here re: ruthless calculus of war and all that... he’s not wrong that Graendal needs to die by balefire in order to ensure that she won’t pop up again later to be a continuing issue. Ruthless!Rand makes some good points, is all I’m saying.

30. Ah, we get a nice reminder that Taringail was an awful person -- one of the few bits of ~fatherly advice~ that he gave Galad in Gawyn’s hearing was “never trust Aes Sedai” and “never trust pretty women” (and definitely never trust a woman who is both). It is a TRADITION for the Daughter-Heirs of Andor to be sent to the White Tower to get training, even if the vast majority of them never reach the level of Aes Sedai or even Accepted/Novice. This sounds like him trying to alienate Galad (and Gawyn as a bonus) from Morgase tbh, and to alienate him from the culture of Andor in general, which is a matriarchal monarchy that historically maintains friendly relations with Tar Valon.

31. ...I feel like the story/hints we’ve gotten about Taringail’s death is that Thom killed him because he was planning to assassinate Morgase in order to take the throne of Andor himself? Trying to sell all this to Galad does seem like he was grooming Galad to accept the idea of himself as Taringail’s heir rather than Elayne as Morgase’s heir. Can’t trust pretty women; can’t trust Aes Sedai... but the queen is a very pretty woman who trained in Tar Valon? Taringail was 100% trying to poison Galad against Morgase (and he failed to make Galad hate MORGASE but maybe planted seeds about mistrusting Aes Sedai in general, seeds that later blossomed into, well. Being a Whitecloak).

32. Ah, Gawyn is in the same trap here than he was back in the White Tower after Elayne, Egwene, & Nynaeve had disappeared -- growing increasingly frustrated because everyone refuses to give him any information. Honestly, you’d think that Siuan would see the signs here that she saw last time and throw him a bone, considering how poorly keeping him out of the loop went last time. He does compare Egwene’s rise to power here to his mother’s - a young woman proving that she had the political grit to win everyone’s respect. That's sweet.

33. Gawyn is SO STUBBORN (haha you'd almost think he was from the Two Rivers). Even now, he insists on believing that Rand is the cause of all his troubles, and he’s still trying to straddle the fence between two loyalties -- he came to ‘help’ Egwene but not Egwene’s forces (even though he does admit to himself now that they ARE her forces), just as he promised not to hurt Rand himself but not to help him avoid being hurt by others. Ah, Bryne brings the “who do you serve?” question back around to Gawyn, pointing out the flaws in his thinking -- are you still First Prince of the Sword if you’re nowhere near Andor and your sister, the (almost) Queen? What will you do if you ‘rescue’ Egwene and she refuses to quit the field of battle to come to Caemlyn with you? So, you know. He’s got a lot to think about.

34. For all that Cadsuane is complaining about the Domani here, they sound much more sensible than the people in Ebou Dar -- instead of constant duels that frequently end in scars or death, people just shout at each other for a while, and then come to terms and buy each other drinks. “Fights were common; bloodshed infrequent. Injuries were bad for business”. Cadsuane doesn’t understand the innkeeper who works here, though she appreciates him as one of her contacts, but honestly his relationship with his wife sounds really sweet -- he keeps the books for her business as a silk merchant and because of her popularity as a merchant, they’ve made enough money where he’s able to open a ‘hobby inn’, essentially, where he does all the serving and cleaning himself while she does the ‘big business’ for the family. Ah, he’s a good contact because one of his daughters went to the White Tower (Brown Ajah; works in the library... we don’t know her current status).

35. Ah, a purpose of this chapter is to show us that Rand’s ta’veren luck twisting is now predominately negative rather than being a balance of positive and negative. The bad is now happening without the good to balance it. We also get a reminder here that apparently no one on Rand’s side has been told that the change in weather was the Wondergirls and not the Dark One, as Cadsuane blames both the drought and the sudden change to cold winter on the Dark One. I guess that’s another thing that Nynaeve could have told Rand but never got around to doing.

36. “Min had resisted every attempt that Cadsuane had made at involving her.” Okay, that is a hilarious sentence. That’s so untrue! That is rewriting history! Min was fully willing to be Cadsuane’s mood ring for Rand, fully willing to spill out Rand’s trauma to Cadsuane -- Min is the whole reason that Cadsuane knows about “the times he had been beaten and caged by Aes Sedai”. Like, Jordan also didn’t own the fact that Min is textually a blabbermouth but... Min is a blabbermouth. She’s also literally the ONLY reason that Cadsuane was allowed to stick around Rand for this long -- which Cadsuane knows (because Min TOLD HER, lol). However, I will note that Rand letting Aviendha avoid him for that month does mean that Cadsuane doesn’t appear to have any notion that the two of them are also entangled. That relationship does seem to be fairly well protected.

37. Rand is overseeing the grain distribution himself, because he’s noticed that it’s more likely to actually get to the people who need it if there’s direct oversight from him personally (though he wishes that weren’t the case). Rand learns from one of his Asha’man sent to try to negotiate another face-to-face meeting with the DotNM that they keep getting balked, with the implication being that the DotNM will refuse to meet on neutral territory (insisting on meeting on her stolen ‘home’ turf). Rand suggests they offer Falme as a meeting location, for ~historical significance~ and says that the Seanchan have enough honor that they won’t attack. I feel like he keeps forgetting that the Seanchan do not see channelers as people. You don’t need to honor an oath that you made to a chair. That being said, Falme is an interesting location for... intimidation reasons. “This is where I summoned dead champions to drive you into the sea” basically. Ah, Naeff tries to point out to Rand what I said -- that the Seanchan don’t look at Rand & the Asha’man as people but as potential slaves. Hmm, they do mention collars here again, which might just be them assuming that the Seanchan have more of the a’dam that can be used on men.

38. Thank you, Damer Flinn! “Differences?” Flinn asked. “I don’t think I’d rightly call that a difference, my Lord. They want to enslave every one of us, maybe execute us. They think it’s a favor to do either!” Rand doesn’t like it either but (because of the Aelfinn’s words) he doesn’t believe he has a choice.

39. Rand manages to get out of Nynaeve what’s happened with Lan (that she took him to Saldaea to ride across the Borderlands to face the Blight). It’s so... baffling that he needed to work to get it out of her. Why does Nynaeve resist so strongly telling Rand literally any information at all, no matter how helpful or relevant it might be? She DOES tell him about Lan when he pushes her, at least, which might not have happened if Jordan were still writing, lol. Wow, did he ever hate people sharing information with Rand.

Things Nynaeve Never Told Rand:

I guess that she and Elayne are the ones who changed the weather (on Egwene’s orders/permission)

That Mat was left behind in Ebou Dar when the Seanchan invaded

That the sul’dam are channeling learners, with damane being sparkers (Min could also tell him this, if she ever felt like being helpful and telling him something he doesn’t already know)

Literally ALL things relevant to his ability to make plans! What it feels like (from Winter’s Heart through Knife of Dreams) is that Jordan wanted Nynaeve in Rand’s storyline but absolutely didn’t want Rand to have any knowledge from Egwene’s section of the plotline (to make it easier for them to have a big misunderstanding once the White Tower is whole, I can only assume, and also to make it harder for Rand to wage any battles against the Seanchan) so Jordan just... had Nynaeve straight-up keep major secrets from Rand for no reason.

And that’s likely also why Elayne only got one night with Rand before he bounced, and possibly (if there were notes about Aviendha and Rand not interacting in Arad Doman) why Aviendha avoids Rand. Because Jordan very much always had Rand starved for information, so that he could make mistakes based on not having enough information. This also might be part of why Mat was slow-walked across Altara in CoT & KoD -- because Jordan didn’t want any of his plot-relevant information to make it into Rand’s hands.

40. This conversation here, with Rand musing that Lan’s death at the Blight could serve him overall in the Last Battle, does a good job showing him as having become ruthless. Because, sure, not necessarily wrong tactically-speaking but, as a voice inside him also whispers, what a terrible way to treat a friend.

41. It grates on Rand what a fragile position he may end up leaving the world after the Last Battle -- even with a hopeful peace with the Seanchan and food for Arad Doman, things would remain very uncertain here. He wants to do what he can to buffer the world from another Breaking. But there are too many problems and only one him (another reason that it’s so baffling that Jordan had him spend a month chilling and waiting on the Seanchan to reply to his messages, post-cleansing. There is SO MUCH for him to do. Honestly, it’s such a relief to see Rand actually Doing Things again, let me tell you). But that is the reason that he wants to find the Council of Merchants to appoint a king here rather than doing it himself -- because his authority will die when he dies. Rand is again, very aware here of the Seanchan as a potential threat, assuming that they would immediately move in to scoop up Arad Doman if it were left vulnerable post-Last Battle, even if a peace were theoretically in place. I’m keeping an eye out to see if this belief ever changes.

42. Okay, part of this conversation between Nynaeve and Rand is very good, but her throwing “do you even know where Mat is?” in his face when she... purposefully kept Mat’s location a secret from him is... just a baffling addition. But I like how it shows us that despite Rand THINKING about how he is hardened and cold, he is actually clearly a simmering volcano of potential violence at this point, because it doesn’t take much for him to start yelling at Nynaeve and threatening to exile her as he exiled Cadsuane. Rand’s perception of himself doesn’t match his behavior.

43. Rand & Egwene both time-jumped a month into the future in their narration but Perrin & Mat haven’t, so we get hints into Perrin and Mat’s future plotlines here in Rand’s rainbow ta’veren vision, seeing Perrin talking with Galad (dressed as a Whitecloak) and Mat riding into Caemlyn with Thom (I guess that explains why Mat is still slow-crawling across Altara while slaver girl is already in Ebou Dar -- Tuon joined the time-skip with Rand & Egwene). “They both needed to be with him for the Last Battle.” STABBING the narrative with shearing scissors. I do wonder if this conversation with Nynaeve would have gone differently if it were in private? Rand explicitly has thought in the past about how he needs to pretend that the Two Rivers and everyone from the Two Rivers are unimportant to him, and they are in front of Domani nobles right now. I don’t imagine he wants them (any of whom could be Darkfriends) to think that he cares at all about Mat, Perrin, or the Two Rivers. That being said, Rand’s passively suicidal streak is also becoming worryingly active, and his temper is on a very short leash.

44. Nynaeve does Investigative Work and uncovers the actual person who killed the messenger from “the king” (actually Graendal), capturing him and bringing him to Rand. Rand was in bed with Min before Nynaeve woke them up. You know, the person that he almost killed with his own hands only a handful of nights ago. But it’s okay! If he kills her by accident, he’ll just add her to the list (again). No big deal! And that Min apparently has ZERO trauma from being STRANGLED by the man that she loves/maybe trusts is another big illustration of her being a plot device and not a character. The plushie that you need to cuddle to get to sleep isn’t allowed to have nightmares of her own. She still has BRUISES on her neck from when Rand NEARLY KILLED her and she has absolutely zero issue sharing a bed with him? Min is immune to trauma! How lucky! Min silently follows him into the room in a thin robe, to be a Sexy Set Decoration.

45. lol, Min is in this entire scene and doesn’t say a word the whole time. She’s literally just there for decorative purposes. I mean, I laugh about it because it’s so frustrating (their entire relationship) but... their relationship really does add so little to the story. And it’s frustrating Because I think there actually could have been something interesting in the Seer and Prophecy Child interacting, but because it’s A Romance, it’s watered down to the point of absurdity.

46. The other sad thing about Rand and Min’s ‘relationship’ is how it can distract from the actual point of the scene -- it’s heartbreaking how much Rand is completely treating Nynaeve like an outsider at this point! Yet it’s undercut by Min Sexy Lamping all over the scene. Every so often, Nynaeve has to note how Min is silently moving to a new pose, lol. Min has NOTHING TO DO HERE and simply should not have been in the scene. This scene, which is fairly tragic and intense otherwise, does not need Sexy Set Decoration, any more than we needed Min sexily swaying her way across a battlefield of corpses in Knife of Dreams.

47. Min falls asleep and thus achieves her final form: she is now LITERALLY a burden that Rand hauls around, leaving him less able to protect himself, instead of just being that metaphorically. Narrative poetry. I can’t believe she was literally in that scene just to be a pretty piece of set decoration, lol wow.

48. Anyway, Nynaeve Heals Graendal’s Compulsion on the assassin’s mind, but the Compulsion was layered so deeply and so thoroughly in his mind that there’s nothing really left anymore after all the Compulsion is gone. Nynaeve notes how Rand speaks of how he has seen this dozens of times, and she wonders if Lews Therin is the one dominating Rand’s mind right now, and how much she’s actually dealing with Rand. Though there is little of the person still left, Rand is able to get a location out of him -- Natrin’s Barrow.

49. During her conversation with Rand, Nynaeve realizes that he has completely extinguished any ounce of hope for himself or any future for himself. In order to make it to the Last Battle, Rand’s decided he can’t afford to hold anything back, that he has to use himself up to the last drop (oh that is Frodo in Mordor vibes). Now, how much of that is Lews Therin’s death wish bleeding through? How much of that is the crushing trauma after trauma that Rand has suffered? It’s a painful conversation to listen to (and, again, mildly undercut by Min the Sexy Set Dressing, lol -- but that makes me... hmm. Rand has essentially written both himself AND MIN off as dead, it seems, as Min is now officially on his list of Dead Ladies alongside Ilyena. Aviendha and Elayne (and Nynaeve, as he mentions here, as being allowed to still dream of the future when Rand cannot), he has not written off as dead, and so he accepts separation from them as part of that -- they are the living and he, and Min, are the dead. huh. I am going to consider that angle as a potential way to explain Rand’s otherwise very out-of-character behavior around Min. This is a very new idea for me, but I’ll poke at it and see what I think. Is it possible that Rand as been thinking of Min as his living dead girl for longer than just the Event with Semirhage?).

Side note: talking about how Rand appears to have written Min off as already dead actually reminds me of something in Origins that I disagreed with! The author of that book noted that one of Tuon’s names is associated with death & Persephone (Kore being another name for Persephone) and had basically a surface-level read of “well, Mat kidnaps her and takes her to a ‘hell’ (tavern)” so that’s the reference related to the name and... imo MAT is actually a much better version of Persephone in this story. A core part of the Persephone story is about being torn between two worlds -- the living world and the underworld -- Mat is tricked into his marriage vows (he has no reason to believe that merely stating his future prophecy will lock him into it) like Persephone ate the pomegranate seeds without knowing what it meant for her future, trapping him halfway into the Seanchan culture, just as Persephone is trapped. Mat is the character who stands between two worlds who comes from one of the worlds and marries into the second, not Tuon, who is firmly the RULER of the world that she exists in (like Hades is the ruler of hell). And the arrival of the Seanchan in Ebou Dar, when Mat is first ‘trapped’ away from his other friends (the living world), also coincides with the ‘change in seasons’ because that’s when the Bowl was used by Elayne and Nynaeve -- Mat’s ‘kidnapping’ via the Ebou Dar invasion literally heralds the coming of winter. MAT is Persephone. Not Tuon.

Now, if Tuon had actually undergone character growth in CoT & KoD, then she COULD have (also) been Persephone. That would have been a much more interesting story imo, if both Tuon and Mat were bridging two worlds through marriage and felt torn between the new world that their spouse had introduced to them and the old one that they'd been born into. But it's clearly only Mat who is standing in two worlds, not Tuon. She firmly has both her feet in Seanchan territory.

#wot reread #the gathering storm #wot #wheel of time #the wheel of time #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #aviendha #mat cauthon #rand al'thor

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