#louis p&b

[editslouis]

• if you save or use please note and reblog

#louis tomlinson #icons louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson icons #icons louis #louis icons #icons tommo #tommo icons #icons lwt #lwt icons #icons #no psd #icons sem psd #icons without psd #louis smile #louis with fans #louis backstages #louis b&w #louis p&b #louis 2022 #with fans #backstages #b&w #p&b #2022

[rainowbenstyls]

quick sketch quick picture do not repost;)

#i almost tag q s m p #louis tomlinson #louis #b & w #traditional #louis tomlinson fanart #louis tomlinson art #louis fanart #louis art

[tomlinsonedits]

Montevideo, Uruguay. © Mauricio Rodriguez

#louis tomlinson #dailytomlinson #1dsource #hledit #hlcreators #hljournal #original #2022 #ltwt22 #ltwt22:montevideo #photo #https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd93hxusQGt/ #there you go anon! #not a whole lot i could do with it bc b&w #and the pic was too small for a good close up

[ao3feed-larry]

In My Reflection, I See You

by Anonymous

Louis buys the mirror he wanted.

Words: 1412, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Medicine

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Bottom Harry Styles, Bottom Harry, Top Louis Tomlinson, Mirror Sex, Rimming, Coming Untouched, Oil, Anal Sex, Missionary Position, Anal Fingering, Nude Photos

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/Mmk2ufv

#larry stylinson #larry fic #ao3 feed larry #In My Reflection #I See You #<p>by Anonymous</p><p>Louis b

[camilamcndcs]

Top five people you'd like to get to know better?

MEME TEN - HONESTY HOUR!

I always hate answering these kind of questions cause I want to get to know everyone who is willing to make the time to get to know me.

Jeremy Allen White @jvremy

Phoebe Bridges @phoebehills

Louis Tomlinson @louishills

Ellen Pompeo @ellenkpompeo

Cillian Murphy @murphycills

#Answered #JAW #Phoebe B #Louis T #Ellen P #Cillian M #HillsFMSMeme #HillsFMSHonestyHR

[pb524830]

clean up nice

pairing: paige bueckers x reader word count: 1.5k c/w: fingering, public sex, language synopsis: um! paige looks too good in her fit for the draft tonight! a/n: the white suit that's really all anyway happy draft! tune in!

“Oh.”

“You like?” Paige grins, giving me a spin.

I swallow tightly. “Like” is an understatement - perhaps the understatement. She’s dressed in an all white two-piece suit, omitting the blazer in favor of a cross body Louis Vuitton bag. She wears a silk button-down underneath the vest, and a chain peeks out from under her collar.

I can’t find the words to respond to her question as my eyes drink the rest of her in. Golden hoop earrings glisten on her ears, and her clear blue eyes are highlighted by the dark mascara that coats her lashes. When she blinks, I catch sight of the shimmer on her eyelids. Her hair is wavy, two strands framing her face, but the rest braided away to fall down her back in loose curls. 

And the rings. There are rings adorning her long, lithe fingers. I try not to think about how cool that metal must feel to the touch.

“Dude?

“Huh? Yes. What?” I stammer.

Her grin slowly turns to a smirk. “I think you do like,” she notes slyly. 

My mouth is dry. “You look- you look good, P,” I manage to say, trying desperately to hold my voice steady. She takes measured steps towards me, that stupid smirk still gracing her face. We’re in a hotel in New York, about to head to the WNBA Draft, where her teammates Nika and Aaliyah will begin their professional careers. I’m helping with hair and makeup for the event.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” she smiles, reaching me and running her hands down my sides. I’m dressed in a strapless black dress, my hair done up in a bun with some strands framing my face. Her hands move smoothly to my ass as her mouth covers mine in a slow, sensual kiss. She squeezes, her large hands unabashed and eager as she slips her tongue into my mouth. “Come on, ma. Lemme get you once before we go,” she murmurs against my lips.

I sigh against her mouth, loosening my grip on her vest, my knuckles nearly as white as the material. “No, Paige. You still have to get through pictures. And we have to get Li and Nika to the carpet.” She edges her knee between my legs. “You know you want it,” Paige urges. “Of course I do,” I whisper. “But we really have to go.” She groans, pulling away. “You’re not going to sleep tonight without letting me fuck you in that dress, you hear?”

I peck her lips once more. “You better make good on that promise, baby.” Her eyes roll up into her head at the nickname. “Fuck, bro,” she grumbles, and I laugh, ignoring the aching wetness in between my legs.

I lead Paige out of the hotel room and into the elevator, but as soon as the metal doors close behind us, she has me pressed against a wall, a hand at my jaw as her mouth moves feverishly against mine.

“Paige!” I gasp. “Not here!”

“Just making sure you’re nice and wet for me when we get back.”

I moan softly as she moves her lips to my neck, letting my eyes flutter closed as her hands wander back to my ass. 

“I’m gonna be wet all day, then,” I complain, bracing a hand at the back of her neck.

“Good,” she murmurs, biting at my skin. She pulls back to look at me, then kisses me hard. “I want it dripping out of you.”

Then she’s facing forward like nothing has happened, walking coolly out of the elevator when the doors ding and open. I take a second to gather myself, then strut out behind her, taking her arm. 

We take a car to the draft venue, and I do a couple last minute touch ups for Aaliyah and Nika before they head out onto the carpet. As I highlight Nika’s nose, I catch Paige’s eyes on me. She runs a hand over her jaw, watching me intently, then bites her lip, shaking her head. She looks away, pretending to talk to Celeste and Azzi, and I roll my eyes.

We watch as photographers snap pictures of Aaliyah and Nika, and Paige’s hand snakes around my waist, pulling my back flush to her torso. “You should be on a red carpet somewhere,” she murmurs. I bite back a smile. “Thank you,” I say politely. “Actually,” Paige continues. “You should be naked in my bed right now.” My eyelids flutter. Fuck.

“Or better yet,” she says softly, leaning next to my ear. “You should leave it on. Your tits look fucking amazing in this dress.” 

“Paige,” I warn. 

“Nah, matter of fact… I want both.”

I pause, confused, but my heart hammering with need and arousal.

“I wanna fuck you with it on… and then I wanna rip it off of you and fuck you like that, too.”

“Oh, my-”

“Would you let me?” Her breath is hot against my ear, and I can feel her lips moving. The wetness in between my legs has grown unbearable.

“Bathroom,” I breathe out, and strut away from her, down the hall.

Luckily, this is one of those fancy venues that has nice, individual bathrooms rather than stalls. I push the door open to one of them, then wait a few seconds before I hear a knock. I open the door carefully, and Paige shoves her way inside, practically flinging me against the sink. 

I moan against her mouth as her hand circles my neck and she kisses me deeply, breathing hard through her nose. “Fuck, you taste good,” she groans, rucking my dress up. “Five minutes. That’s it,” I command, but she’s already kicking my legs open. “Gimme two,” she growls, suckling at the tops of my breasts spilling out of the dress.

Her hand moves between my legs to pull my panties to the side, and I whine when she slips a finger in, her rings cool against my walls. “You’re soaked,” she mumbles, looking up at me. “I didn’t even touch you.” She doesn’t move her finger, just leaves it inside of me, and I wiggle for friction. Her other hand stills my hips. “You get to come when you tell me why you’re so fucking wet, ma,” she says, her mouth twisting into a smug smile. “You just… look so pretty,” I pant, squirming under her gaze and touch.

Her smile gets wider. “You’re all wet… because I’m pretty?” Paige teases. “Yes,” I gasp. “How pretty?” She demands. “You can feel it, can’t you?” I whimper, biting my lip. She moves her finger in and out of me, slowly, and I nearly sob from relief. “No, I’m just wondering…” Paige starts, then plunges another finger into me. I gasp, lurching towards her, but she shoves me back, fucking me with two fingers now. “Two finger pretty?”

Another one. I cry out as the third digit enters me. “Or three finger pretty?”

“However- however many you want,” I tell her, my tone wanton and pleading.

“I’mma fuck you with three, how’s that, ma?” She asks, but it’s not really a question.

She pounds into my with her fingers, and my head tips back, the stretch almost unbearable, her longest finger so close to that spot-

“Oh!”

“Right there?” My eyes meet hers, and I can hardly see the blues of her irises.

“Right there, Paige. Fuck- my clit. Can you- my clit…”

“I gotchu.” Her thumb begins circling my clit. “Come on, baby. You’re doing so good. Just come on my fingers like a good girl. That’s good, yeah. So fuckin’ good for me, just do whatever I say, yeah? You just wanna make me proud?”

“Got all dressed up for you, look so pretty for you. You wanna make me proud?”

Paige’s voice, the words she’s saying, her fingers plunging in and out and her thumb abusing my clit - it’s all too much. I smack my hand to my mouth and bite my palm hard enough that I think I break skin, screaming against my hand as I shatter all over her fingers.

“Oh, fuck, ma, just like that. So perfect for me like that.”

“Paige,” I gasp, bucking my hips to ride out my high, my legs shaking as she eases her fingers out and reaches for toilet paper to clean us both up.

“Man, I can’t wait to take this off of you and do this again tonight,” she grins.

I turn to the mirror, trying to fix my appearance before having to face everyone else again. My chest is shiny with sweat, my cheeks flushed with more than just blush. My eyes are glazed over, and I have to tug my dress down to cover my ass again. “Paige,” I complain. “Look what you did.”

I try desperately to fix my hair, but it’s fallen out of its updo. “You look fine,” she reassures me, coming behind me to place a kiss at my temple. I stare at her in the mirror. Frustrated, I shake my hair out of the bobby pins, placing them into her outstretched palm. “This is your fault,” I gripe.

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” She smirks.

“Yes,” I snap, turning to her. “You just clean up too nice.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #fic talk #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut

[jigavexuke]

s-de-mode-boost- ed/news/la-mega-drive-mini-hd-arrive-avec-85-jeux-decouvrez-la-liste-61993

2011-06-22T00:00:00+02:00 Le grand mercato télé-radio 2011 Télérama fr telerama.fr/cinema/mere-fille-mode-d-emploi,65511.php

</p><br>https://jigavexuke.tumblr.com/post/692980550416400384/%C3%A0-partir-de-lappareil-iphone-5s5c54s-ipad-mini, https://vamugatunusi.tumblr.com/post/692980510958501889/notice-nintendo-ds-lite-do-nintendo-ds, https://vamugatunusi.tumblr.com/post/692980510958501889/notice-nintendo-ds-lite-do-nintendo-ds, https://jigavexuke.tumblr.com/post/692980550416400384/%C3%A0-partir-de-lappareil-iphone-5s5c54s-ipad-mini, https://vamugatunusi.tumblr.com/post/692980380434841600/livre-de-toxicologie-pdf-gratuit.

#http://vk.cc/c7jKeU #nofollow #_ #<br> #<br> </p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>LE DEVOIR #LE MARDI 18 JANVIER 2011 lf)diOo AVIATION Airbus devance Ihrs Dv Ml 48795 ChrsGIbIGId 231309 Shrs Gld Trst 67091 'ChrsGcvBd 38162 IhrsGrCrP #Module GROVE GAZ GR80 Qualit&amp;eacute; de l'air GR81 GR82 GR83 GR84 Ethylotest Capteur 12x12x10 cm • Livr&amp;eacute; avec notice d&amp;e #/37525/7250-android-q-preparerait-un-mode-sombre-beaucoup-plus-global 2019-01-08 2019-01-10 nextinpact.com/article/37563/7288-le-grand- #Pour accéder à plus d'information sur les métiers #les secteurs et les formations : CHOISIR : MODE D'EMPLOI DU GUIDE Le logo de la marque Quiksilver (une #diff --git a/vocab.json b/vocab.json new file mode 100644 index + #: 28807 #+ #: 32716 #: 38208 #<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><center>LEGRAND 67091 MODE D'EMPLOI IPAD AIR >> <strong><u><a href= rel= target=legrand&lt;/w&gt;aviaire&lt;/w&gt; #Working day 7: Qin Xiaoya notice to the louis vuitton never full bag other iPad Mini with Retina Disp LE GRAND SHOWTIMELE GRAND TROPHEE D'O #1 guide d'ondes lumineuses et 1 mode d'emploi. Réf. S67091. #gameblog.fr/jeu-video/ed/news/xbox-scorpio-pa

[dcntstopmencw]

L muses

#m: lila p #m: lucretia taz #m: linda b #m: lucy m #m: lottie l #m: lalo s #m: leigh p #tagging #m: lindsay b #m: louis l

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

NSFT Alphabet: Matthias Czernin

Does my little dance while screaming

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Let the man recover first! No really, he needs a second to recover and come back to reality. He would be very into bathing right after, he will though enjoy skinship and needs to be given affection from you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Matthias, after the fire burns half of his body, tries not to think about it. Bad enough looks at Louis who looks perfectly undamaged while he is ugly. You have to tell him what you like about him, sit him down, and tell him your favorite parts of him. On you though, he likes your legs. Idk he seems like a legs or thighs guy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I don't think he's a cum inside guy, he can when lost in the moment, but he rather cum on you so he can wipe it off or cum on the sheets that need to be changed anyway

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he would like dollification, listen, something about the control and trust you give that he can appreciate. He could dress you up, put the proper makeup on, tying you to the rope to hold you in place. The process is probably what gets him going before even the play starts, admiring his work.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Virgin, sorry not sorry taking his virginity 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Would say riding or doggy style depending on his mood but also a mating press (i think it hot dbbdbd)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but he might laugh a bit if you are the type to be really happy during sex. It is endearing 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think cuz of the fire he has no hair (though i think he was one a bush not groomed)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Matthias prob is the romantic type but he has no experience in this field so be patient with him. Give him a chance, he is trying.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think he has out of curiosity but then just didn't do it again because he couldn't cum and it annoyed him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dollification but also body worship (giving). But also he probably no idea what kinks are until you lol

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, he is a private person

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Idk whatever plot i makeup tbh

He would try impact play but the second he hit too hard that was enough for him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving. He needs to work up to receiving because of his dislike towards his body.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is a building-up kinda guy but if you catch him on one of his bad days, he can be fast and rough. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No, and yes, you get the quickies on him. Blowing him because you definitely can have an oral fixation around him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is willing to try anything so long as you respect when he says no 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

One or two rounds, listen HE IS TRYING gotta edge him

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He would like using toys on you only but you could try it on him when he is comfortable with trying to be submissive 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He has to edge you, you outlast him and he needs you to crumble

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Matthias tries to be quiet but is actually very vocal, very flustered when you point it out too

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Matthias is naturally dominant but he is giving. I say naturally because he needs something he can control, something stable that won't force him to change unless he allows it. But he does become open to be the giving submissive, now he is giving you his trust and control over him. It helps to praise him through it too, he needs that reassurance from his partner that he doesn't have to be perfect. Matthias has to be shown he can enjoy himself without worry.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It's good just let him fuck you okay

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I don't think at first he has a high sex drive, it is probably very low. It's about average when you become his partner though

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Out like a light lol but it is the best sleep of his life.

#idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv puppeteer #reader insert #matthias czernin #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #matthias czernin x reader #matthias czernin x you

[charliedawn]

hi charlie ^_^✧*。i hope you're well. i'm not sure if you're accepting requests atm, but i had an idea which is how would the slashers react to a siren nurse (fem or gn) who walked the corridors of st. louis late at night singing haunting and alluring melodies as they went about their job, or whatever song was in their head? one of their favorite songs would be "curses" by the crane wives. maybe they would sing brahms a lullaby sometimes? but a creepy lullaby that was also strangely soothing to him. anyway, i would just like to see what you'll do with that idea. make any changes or adaptions u like, feel free to put your own spin on it. and take your time bc i know u get a lot of asks ♡

this is that song:

(Thank you for the request and the song ! It’s beautiful. 10/10. 🤩 Hope you like it.)

The Right Wing of St Louis:

Michael Myers:

Michael rarely sleeps. He doesn’t need to and is unable to. Too many nightmares and concerns about his own life and duality. And he usually sleepwalks too. So, really…He doesn’t like sleeping. But, this is why you were put in charge of the night shift.

"Sleep, Michael. Sleep your sorrows away in the darkness of the night. Let your dreams take over…" You whispered to him, but he only looked up at you with a saddened expression and shook his head.

"I don’t dream." You read when he gave you a piece of paper before bedtime and you smiled knowingly before looking back at him. You then stroked his cheek.

"You will tonight. I promise. Rest, Michael. You deserve it."

He seemed skeptical at first, but finally complied and went to bed. You then tucked him in and started humming next to his bed. When you started singing, his eyes started to slowly close and strangely enough…He dreamt that night.

Penny:

"P-Pretty voice. Soooo pretty. Such a pretty bird." Penny giggled and looked at you with a wide grin. He knew you were a siren, but he had never seen one before. He was curious and whenever you would start singing, he would appear behind you and just squeeze you tightly or just start tilting his head to the rhythm.

Penny doesn’t sleep like normal people do, so he can appreciate the music fully. Most people would sleep, but he would take your hand and start dancing with you. Unlike his brother, Penny is no singer. But, he is one hell of a dancer.

He would smile and laugh while you keep singing and he’d even watch over you when it’s YOUR time to sleep.

Penny *watching over you.* : "Sleep sleep, little bird. Sleep well."

Pennywise:

Pennywise also has the power to sing people to sleep. But, he doesn’t use it because a) He doesn’t like to and b) He doesn’t want to. He only ever sang to the children he ate and his past family. It isn’t a memory he likes to keep and he would simply hum along to the songs you are singing sometimes. He’s also move forward and backwards on his rocking chair as you sing. Sometimes, he’d sing with you and even dance when it is the middle of the night and no one is around to witness this moment, but he’d never do it in front of the others.

Pennywise *smirks* : "A siren, huh ? I wonder how a siren tastes…"

He would never eat you of course. He likes to joke a lot, but he would protect you and feel affectionate towards you. He would listen to you and sing along sometimes and then…the most beautiful and sweet melody would put the whole hospital to sleep.

Brahms:

Brahms remained silent as your majestic self walked through the halls of St Louis—your magic voice singing everyone and everything to sleep. Your voice was soothing and deep, so deep he was afraid he might fall asleep and never wake up. He laid down on his bed and waited for your arrival—as per every night.

He never locked his door at night.

When you arrived, you sat next to him and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and when you started singing, he felt at peace and relaxed. He held your hand and smiled when you whispered.

"Sweet dreams, Brahms…"

Jason Voorhees:

Jason is the same as Brahms. He likes physical touch and be reassured. He waited for your voice to soothe him to sleep. You usually slept in their room at night because both babies wanna hang on to you and they both feel safe in your presence.

Jason would sleep on your lap and have a good rest. He would slowly fall asleep to your gentle words.

Arthur Fleck:

"Y/N. I knew it was you. Come in. Come in. Please."

Sometimes, Arthur asked for private sessions. The man had nightmares and dark thoughts that none could even begin to comprehend. But when you sang, he forgot his troubles and worries. You would sometimes take his hand and softly lull him to sleep. He liked it.

Freddy Krueger:

"Yo ! Who’s singing ?! Shut za hell up, bitch !" Freddy shouted before shoving a pillow on his head. Freddy is the sleep demon. He isn’t one to sleep with siren songs. He prefers silence. But sometimes…He would stay awake to hear you and a small smile would appear on his face.

Secretly, he didn’t mind your singing all that much…

Bo Sinclair:

"Hello, birdy. Come here. Come to Papa."

He literally tackled you to the ground his first night in St Louis. You must understand that Bo was raised by fishermen and bars. He knows what a siren is and knows that whoever owns a siren is supposed to get extremely lucky. He would want to capture you more than anything and make you sing ONLY for him. Fortunately, Brahms and Jason would never allow you to get hurt or captured. So, they’d defend you and fight the Sinclair brothers if necessary.

The Left Wing of St Louis:

Father Paul:

The first time Father Paul heard you, he thought he was losing his mind. Your voice was like an angel’s and he truly believed his time had finally came. But, it didn’t. And every night, he would hear you and his mind would settle for a little bit. He would hear your song and find mercy in that moment.

The only link the Right Wing and the Left Wing of the hospital ever had: You.

Your voice would make them feel a little better in their misery and Father Paul enjoyed hearing you, when all thoughts of happiness and hope was lost…one beautiful thing remained.

Jonathan Crane:

Jonathan Crane was laid down on his bed—locked up and attached securely. He was staring at the ceiling and let out a small sigh. He was restless. It was the third day in the row that he was being tested on and he had no moment of peace…not until night fell and a voice came from outside. A quiet lullaby. So beautiful and peaceful. His eyelids felt heavy and he finally found a certain inner peace within.

"…Thank you, lady of the night." He uttered in a whisper before closing his eyes and sleeping soundly.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers au #slashers #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #michael myers x reader #pennywise x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #father paul hill #jonathan crane #bo sinclair x reader

[thenickgirl]

NSFW Alphabet: Nick Edition

bf!nick x male!reader

disclaimer: i did not come up with this idea, all credit to owner. this is all fictional and based on my own conclusions.

warnings: not proofread. all nsfw. mentions of slapping, choking, degradation, and spitting. sub and dom nick.

I believe Nick is a switch, so i’m gonna answer these accordingly.

A: Aftercare, how are they like after sex?

✩ will help clean you up, maybe even shower together. will get you water or snacks if you need them, lots of cuddles, soft kisses, and praises.

B: Body part, what's their favorite body part?

✩ his favorite body part on himself is definitely his arms, he loves his tattoos; his favorite part of your body is your hands, he loves having them all over him.

C: Cum, anything to do with cum

✩ no cum shots whatsoever. will swallow it, but doesn’t want it on him; however, if he cums and you lick it off of him he might cum again cause he thinks it’s fucking hot.

D: Dirty secrets/Dirty talk, self explanatory.

✩ a literal slut for dirty talk! he gets so turned on by it, and also love doing it.

E: Experience, how experienced are they?

✩ not very experienced, but knows enough.

F: Favorite position.

✩ doggy for sure, his back arch is better than st. louis! cowgirl or reverse cowgirl are also top contenders. when he tops he loves doggy as well, and missionary, specifically when your legs on his shoulders.

G: Goofy, how goofy are they?

✩ not really, he’s more serious during intimate moments.

H: Hair, are they well groomed?

✩ doesn’t really care too much about it, but will keep it trimmed.

I: Intimacy, are they intimate during sex?

✩ very, loves taking his time with you. there’s lots of eye contact, and passionate kisses.

J: Jack off (masturbation) How much do they do it?

✩ not often, but if you’re away and he can’t fight off the urge, he’ll do it in the shower.

K: Kinks, what are their kinks?

✩ he has a few:

- degrading kink, whether he tops or bottoms, he loves to degrade and be degraded. “you’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” “you love having that dirty mouth of yours full of my cock, don’t you?”

- praise kink when he tops, loves to hear how good he’s making you feel. “you’re fucking me so good mm, can feel you so deep”. he’ll make you talk to him while he’s ball deep because he loves to watch you struggle to speak. “you like that, baby? hm? talk to me”. he also loves to be praised when he bottoms, “you’re taking me so well, baby” “you’re such a good boy for me”.

- he loves overstimulation as a top and a bottom. “c’mon pretty boy, i know you can give me one more”.

- he’s also more rough when he tops, might enjoy light slapping, some choking, or even spitting in your mouth.

L: Location, where is his favorite place to have sex.

✩ somewhere private always, not in to public sex at all, might be willing do it the shower with some convincing. or a bathroom stall if it’s a single room and the door is locked.

M: Motivation, what turns them on?

✩ dirty talk, any sensual touches or caressing his body, kissing.

N: No, what they won't do

✩ no public sex, no piss kinks, no cum shots, no filming.

O: Oral, do they enjoy giving or getting?

✩ he loves giving head, he loves the power. he loves how he make you squirm and shake with just his mouth. when receiving he’s a complete mess and loves it when you decide to take it further and eat his ass.

P: Pace, slow or fast?

✩ it really all depends on the mood.

Q: Quickie, how does he feel about them?

✩ not a fan, but isn’t opposed to it. only if it’s somewhere where no one is bound see or catch you.

R: Risk, does he take risks during sex?

✩ not really, but if there’s something you’re wanting to try he’s up for it.

S: Stamina, how long can they go?

✩ 1-2 rounds when he subs, 3 or more when he tops.

T: Toys, do they enjoy using toys

✩ doesn’t own any, never really thought about using them, but is open to trying them.

U: Unfair, how much do they tease?

✩ A LOT, the #1 teaser. will leave open mouth kisses all over your body, so close to where you want him most and then pull away smirking causing you to whine “what? is there something you want, pretty? tell me”.

V: Volume, are they vocal during sex?

✩ yes, especially when he subs, lots of gasps, whining, whimpering, and breathy moans. when he tops not so much, just groans and loads of dirty degrading talk.

X: X-ray, what going on down there?

✩ it’s big, for sure. at least 8 inches and thick.

Y: Yearning, how high is his sex drive?

✩ not high at all, but it doesn’t take much from you to get him all riled up.

Z: Zzz, does he fall asleep quickly after?

✩ when he’s bottoming yes, he falls asleep soon after you cleaned up. when he tops, he’s still so keyed up it takes him a little while to fall asleep.

taglist: @freshloveforthefit @demistyles @muwapsturniolo @guccifrog @luverboychris @mattslolita @moonk1ss3d @orangelala @imsosillygoofylol

#mr stromboli #stromboli hc #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo x male reader #a headcanon #nick sturniolo x reader

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them.  I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from  Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug.  He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods,  self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully  for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you.  Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you.  That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy  guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down.  Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily. 

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.”  The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted.  His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,�� you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response  up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?”  That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.   

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise.  You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and  immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid  little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band.  Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins,  rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained,  “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement  was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

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{NSFW Alphabet}

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↬[Fandom(s)]•⊰ {Obey Me! || Moriarty the Patriot || Jujutsu Kaisen || Bungou Stray Dogs}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {NSFW... so yeah, MDNI}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ──────┈┈┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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[A]ftercare: What they're like after sex?

⇒ [Obey me!]: Diavolo (💋)

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[B]ody Part: Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's?

⇒ [Obey me!]: Lucifer (💋)

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[C]um: Anything to do with cum?

⇒ [Obey me!]: Simeon (💋)

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[D]irty Secret

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Geto (💋)

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[E]xperience: How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Sukuna (💋)

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[F]avorite Position

⇒ [Moriarty the Patriot]: Sherlock (💋)

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[G]oofy: Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc?

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Atsushi (💋)

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[H]air: How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.?

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Yuji (💋)

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[I]ntimacy: How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...?

⇒ [Moriarty the Patriot]: William (💋)

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[J]ack Off: Masturbation headcanon

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Tetchou (💋)

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[K]ink: One or more of their kinks.

⇒ [Obey me!]: Solomon (💋)

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[L]ocation: Favorite places to do the do.

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Nanami (💋)

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[M]otivation: What turns them on, gets them going?

⇒ [Obey me!]: Satan (💋)

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[N]O: Something they wouldn't do, turn offs

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Chuuya (💋)

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[O]ral: Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Dazai (💋)

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[P]ace: Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?...

⇒ [Moriarty the Patriot]: Albert (💋)

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[Q]uickie: Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Jouno (💋)

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[R]isk: Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Fyodor (💋)

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[S]tamina: How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...

⇒ [Obey me!]: Barbatos (💋)

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[T]oys: Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?

⇒ [Moriarty the Patriot]: Sebastian (💋)

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[U]nfair: How much they like to tease?

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Gojo (💋)

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[V]olume: How loud they are,what sounds they make?

⇒ [Moriarty the Patriot]: Louis (💋)

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[W]ild Card: Random headcanon

⇒ [Obey me!]: Mammon (💋)

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[X]-Ray: Let's see what's going on in those pants.

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Megumi (💋)

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[Y]earning: How high is their sex drive?

⇒ [Jujutsu Kaisen]: Inumaki (💋)

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[Z]ZZ: how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?

⇒ [Bungo Stray Dogs]: Akutagawa (💋)

#𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆–[💋] #𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝–[📕] #𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜–[🍬] #obey me x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[loichte]

Louis: Is this your plan B? Liam: Technically, this is plan P. Louis: Plan P? Is there a plan M? Liam: Yes, but I marry Sherlock in plan M. Sherlock: I like plan M.

#moriarty the patriot #sherlock holmes #william james moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #incorrect quotes #sherliam #louis james moriarty

[transformation4life]

Dungeons and Jocks

Suggested by: @sivfenrir

Gregory slammed another book down on his apartment table. It was another book for his upcoming DND campaign with his friend Louis. It was quite heavy for his scrawny body but he somehow managed to carry it all the way from the library. He was going to be a wizard artificer for the campaign over discord call and wanted to learn as much as he could before properly getting into it. Gregory opened the book and began to look through the pages. The nerd he is absorbed all the information quite quickly and before long landed on a very peculiar page... "Make what you wish come true! A spell of a lifetime for your campaign... Huh..." Gregory was very intrigued.

A spell to make what you wish come true is quite a bold claim from a book from a random library and a nerd who was quite a nerd. "Alright I'll guess I'll try this totally real spell!" Gregory didn't believe it would work so he recited the spell with a hint of sarcasm. "drhs drhs drhs drhs drhs ivzo ivzo ivzo ivzo!!" Gregory chanted the spell right then and there. "Now let's see if this worked... I am rich!" "..." "Haha... as I thought," Gregory was unphased, but just as he was about to go to the next page a notif popped up on his nearby phone. Louis: Hey dude, time for our DND session hop on discord! It was Louis!

Gregory: Alright hopping on now! Gregory quickly made his way to his room where his computer was located and hopped on call. "Yo Louis wassup?" "Oh... hey... I'm... okay.." Louis had a melancholy tone to his voice. "Is... something wrong dude?" "Yea... mind if I vent before the session?"

"Oh, sure what is it?" "It's just these guys that were bullying me..." Gregory felt a chill in his spine.

"P-People were bullying you??" "Yea..."

"What were they? Who were they?" "They were these... high school jocks. Large ones t-too. B-Based on their size they easily went to the gym everyday," Gregory felt more tingles. Gregory's body was beginning to change. Gregory began to gain an extreme growth in muscle like he worked at the gym everyday because well he did. Massive pecs, big biceps, and meaty thighs were some of his greatest features. Gregory's changes didn't stop though as his mind became warped and his past began to change. Instead of being a nerd he was always a jock. Bullying all the little guys More obsessed with muscle than school or anything else. That's when reality snapped back to the new jock Gregory. "H-Huh? What am I doing here? Where's my bros??? And why is this shirt so tight?" The new gregory looked around his room and saw all sorts of nerdy shit that repulsed him. How did he get here and where are his bros??? Louis didn't notice the change in Gregory's behavior and kept going. "A-And I think one of them was bald??? How much steroids did that they take??" And in one fell swoop all of Gregory's hair fell off leaving him completely bald. "I'm pretty sure all they wore was tank-tops with how cocky and self-obsessed they were..." Gregory's shirt began to remold itself into a gym tank-top and Gregory's mind suddenly become self-obsessed, immediately giving his left bicep a kiss.

"At least i got you with me!"

Louis continued on.

"They were total jerks. They piss me off just thinking about it!" Gregory stopped loving himself immediately. He recognized who was speaking. It was Louis the Louiser! Why was he talking to a twink ass on some messaging service. He'd rather beat him up directly than on some app. Gregory was ready to destroy the computer but then... "I wish they were like you, my best friend... kind, nice, nerdy like me." Gregory's mind changing again. He was still a bit of a jock but still spent time to nerd out with Louis and would protect him with his massive size and play DND all the time too!

Gregory paused right before he was about to punch screen as his anger dissipated into a cocky grin.

"Right you are, you're glad to have a friend like me haha!" Gregory's new voice gave a hearty laugh "Oh wow Gregory, your voice sounds different than I last remember..." Louis asked in a shocked tone.

"Whatcha talking about? Always been sounding like this ever since I took the steroids remember. I just had to get PUMPED! GRAHH!" Gregory did a flex with a grunt making Louis jump in his seat on the other end.

"W-Who are you and what you have done with Gregory?" "Come on bro it's me Louis. Your good old pal. We play DND remember?" Gregory turned on his webcam.

"See? It's me! Don't you want to give my bicep a kiss like old times?"

"W-Who is this?! You're not Gregory you're more like a Greg!" Gregory or rather Greg paused for a moment before smirking. "Yeah you're right! Sorry 'bout that. My name is Greg! But come on bro don't remember your lovable nerdy big guy best friend?" Greg flexed again.

"I-I'm still not convinced... I'm going to your house in person...." Louis immediately left the call before Greg could even say "See you later bro,"

Louis arrived to Greg's apartment and knocked on the door expecting the same twink he's known since elementary to open it but nope... it was "Greg" "Hey bro! Good to see you!"

"How did you- When did you-" Louis was in a gay panic.

"Lots of hardwork and steroids bro. Remember. Come on let's talk on the bro-couch!" "W-When did you take your shirt off?"

"Took if off before you got here bro. Needed to let my muscles breathe you know?" "U-Um,,, o-okay,,," Louis's words were barely legible

"Anyways bro let's go to the bro-couch pronto. We can talk like we always do. As bros!" Greg turned around not a moment sooner abandoning his shorts leaving him in just his underwear.

Louis cautiously entered the apartment. It looked about the same as he last saw it but there was a lot more... bodybuilder. There was still all those awards from math bowls but there was also some trophies from competitions. Louis continued to look around while Greg grabbed a huge can of Whey Protein before sitting on the bro-couch. "Want some?"

"N-No thanks..." Louis sheepishly declined

"Your loss," Greg opened up the container and ate the protein powder raw. "Delicious! Anyways whatcha wanna talk about bro?"

"Isn't it obvious? How you became THIS?" Louis blurted out.

"We were supposed to be doing a DND campaign but instead you became a meathead!" Greg's mind changed again.

"Yuppppppp that's meeeeeeeeeeee!" It looked like Greg had no thoughts and only thought of muscles as the math bowl trophies began to disappear. "But at the same time you do seem like my best friend..." Greg got hit with his old intelligence and stopped drooling.

"Yea bro! We'll always be bros! Now come on let's DND!"

"Okay fine, but put some clothes on!"

"Alright bro, alright!" With Greg walking off to get changed.

Greg returned in a tank top and some shorts flexing as he entered.

"Let's do this bro!" Louis almost forgot how hot Gregor- Greg was now.

"Alright alright, let's do this!" And so the buff nerd Greg and the twink nerd Louis did their campaign with Greg's character being a buff as hell Jock wizard artificer with magic and muscles on their side. It was a grand ol' time and Louis finally let this be the new Greg. Luckily for Louis the chant that Greg made was wearing off making this Greg permanent. It's a good life being a large and in charge jock and nerd.

#mind change #male tf #muscle tf #bodybuilder tf #dumbing down

[pleasecallmealsip]

it's easy to say "let's not ignore the negatives" about the french revolution. it's not as easy to see just what the "negatives" were.

the french revolution did not bring about a "power vacuum". the legislative assembly was formed as soon as the constituent assembly completed a new constitution and dissolved itself. in the constituent, the legislative, and the national convention, at any time, a president would be elected every 15 days. the word "anarchy" carried with it very derogatory notions, and even marat and robespierre condemned it.

the "if violent, then don't" type of criticism to the frev is reductive, and risky of using double standards. a) it is reductive because "the frev" is a long period across a vast geographical area (if we say the frev spanned 1789-1799, then haiti was not independent during this time). are we talking the potential violence of the louis xvi's german and swiss guards, or the parisian urban poor running to seize arms in the bastille to protect themselves? are we talking the national guard shooting the peaceful petitioners calling to put louis xvi on trial for his fleeing to varennes on 17th july 1791, or are we talking about marat's strongly-worded condemnation of the national guard in response (l'ami du peuple no.524, 20th july, 1791)? are we talking the declaration of pillnitz was on 27th august 1791, where prussian and austrian armies vague-posted about forming a military coalition against the constituent assembly, or are we talking brissot and his friends' eagerness to declare war and even potentially to extend the revolution beyond metropolitan france, or are we talking the consequence of brissot's decision of rushing into war with an army so untrained, so underpaid, so unarmed? you get the idea. to vaguely condemn violence would obfuscate everybody's position, and nullify any discussion of just what course of action to take in order to build a republic from scratch. b) it is risky of double standards, because violence was not an exception, especially not in the late 18th century. before this was the seven years' war. after this was the empire. i strongly recommend reading about the united irish rebellion of 1798 and the british response to that, and see what violent injustice "some of the most famous names" of ireland in the same time period had to face.

as for the "original goal" of the french revolution, more well-read mutuals can brief you on just how many goals the jacobins had alone. the goals of the gironde were a very different set of goals from the very beginning, the goals of the monarchiens more different still. but in any case, the "original goal" was not "independence". france was (and is) an economically strong part of the imperial core. one of the goals of the haitian revolution was independence from france.

that the bourbons restoration happened at all says everything about bonaparte's failure to withstand the coalition wars that came back to him again and again and again, like waves on a shore (see my point on brissot above). it says very little about the Spirit of revolution, which in the end shall save us all. They say revolutions turn out badly. But they're constantly confusing two different things, the way revolutions turn out historically and people's revolutionary becoming. These relate to two different sets of people. Men's only hope lies in a revolutionary becoming: the only way of casting off their shame or responding to what is intolerable. (Gilles Deleuze, Negotiations, New York: Columbia University Press 1995,p. 171, which can be read here, in its entirety.)

just what name should be given to the period of july 1793 - july 1794 is a matter that is still not settled among historians themselves. the word "terror" got its negative notions from tallien, who was very biased, so biased in fact he tried to assassinate his opponents in the convention. tallien did not succeed despite the execution, without a trial, of his opponents (maximilien robespierre, augustin robespierre, aristide couthon, antoine saint-just, françois hanriot, and some one hundred others). he did not seize more power himself. he himself was denounced by his colleagues as complicit in violent excesses. he shifted blames onto his colleagues in turn. his career was more or less ended by the moderates he sought to please. and then the "reign" part was only added when this term entered the english-speaking parts of the world. so this name was both biased and non-universal. it is still biased and non-universal. i genuinely do not wish to tell anybody what to do, but if you say "reign of terror" uncritically, people are going to tell you that you are using a reactionary term, because you are.

#alsip.txt #frev