#needless to say i got. i got gut punched

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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#cece writes #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut

[strqyr]

i've been debating for a while now whether to write this or not. it's a bit... a lot more personal than i'm used to, but with V9: Beyond being nearer and nearer, i'm finding myself to be lacking the spark and excitement for new RWBY content that i'm used to have. for that reason, i've been doing some thinking, trying to nail down where the difference lies, and i think i finally figured it out:

the ending of V9, specifically how they handled ruby's arc.

[tw: suicide, if you decide to continue reading]

before i get any further, i want to lay down some "backstory": about two weeks before V9 started airing, i lost my beloved dog to an illness after fighting for her life for two weeks. those two weeks were a roller coaster straight out of hell, thinking the medicine given were working, only for things to get worse; and through it all, all i could think of was that if she didn't make it through the year, neither would i.

but then, afterwards, in some weird twist of fate, when every part of me wanted to stay in bed and never get up, it was her, my dog, that kept me going, simply because through the last couple of years of her life, she had slept the mornings in my bed, with me, with 1pm being the time she'd force me out of bed if i ever stayed in that late... and that following morning—or more like day lol—after her death, i happened to look at my phone, see the clock be around 1pm, knowing i had a choice to make.

and i got up. have every single day, way before 1pm, to keep part of her alive and with me.

so, perhaps needless to say, but ruby's arc in V9 hit close. i had enough time in-between to not be in middle of the worst of it, but i suppose not as enough as i thought, as not only did i lose some of the spark i had for this show, but i'm also still crying now while writing this.

for the duration of the show, the burden on ruby had been growing stronger and stronger. from being called special due to her silver eyes, to all her friends placing their trust in her leadership, believing that somehow, she always knew what the right thing to do was, to never quite feeling she could be open about her own doubts as a leader, having no one to talk to... V9 started out great. i was excited, for the first time in a long while, for the direction they were taking ruby in.

and everything seemed to be going great. all the issues, trauma, et al that ruby was holding in were slowly seeping over, until it all burst open, explosively, and she ran away; and with all of this and more thrown against her by neo, ruby drank the tea, not wanting to be herself anymore.

...then came the aftermath of her ascension, and it's here, where the writers lost me.

"you're broken! you break everything you touch! i call humans... weak! confused! incomplete!" the cat says, and it's hard to say they're entirely wrong; ruby has been broken, she has had her weak moments, she has been confused, and that's okay.

but her teammates, her friends, her sister, don't seem to think so.

the cat is wrong. ruby has never been any of those things, and that's exactly why they follow her.

like it was more important to prove the antagonist of the volume wrong, rather than offer genuine support to ruby by saying that it is okay to be broken and confused, and for her to have her weak moments because that's why they're there; to support her in good and bad. to make it clear to ruby that she can come to them and air her doubts and concerns without a fear of being shutdown, that they, too, will work on themselves to be better friends in that regard.

but that's not what happened, and even without properly registering it at the time, it felt like a punch to the gut.

during the roundtable discussion of this episode, the writers talked about ruby's arc being about impostor syndrome and i just... can't see it. not with the way they build it up. it's like a switch was flicked, and when before the problem was the burden that was solely placed on ruby's shoulder and how it was too much for her to handle on her own, now ruby ever doubting herself in the first place was the problem, and all she needed to hear was that she was perfect just the way she was; "retrospective" is not a known word here.

and for the first time, even if i do have some critiques over handling of certain storylines, i felt like what was delivered was not what was ordered. at all. and with the vague content warnings in front of episodes, it started to feel like suicide was used for the "shock value" it could provide, to get people talking on social media, rather than because the writers wanted to treat it with the seriousness it deserves.

maybe that's unfair to say; i certainly don't know their intentions. frankly i don't know the people who work on this show at all, and i've stayed far from forming any parasocial relationships to pretend otherwise. all i have is my own feelings about this, ones that i've gone over multiple times, going through episodes, seeing if there's something that i've missed that would make it make sense... i've done my due diligence, and this is the result.

this is not the end: i still love RWBY, the characters, the world and its lore... but some of the trust i had for the writers has definitely gone, as has of the spark that ensured the excitement i had for new episodes and content to the point that i'd be right here, on my seat, ready the moment a new episode dropped.

now if the birbs show up—

#tw suicide #also: if you can't handle even the smallest of critiques of the show #uhhhh #probably don't read lol #kthxbye #it's a longish post but. eh.

[24hlevi]

Congratulations for 1700 followers 🎉🤗

For the event :

Rin Itoshi and 11.forced breakup 😊

Would be nice ;3

Have a awesome day ;3 🫶🏻❤️

this was made for rin istg, thank you so much for requesting 🫶

— forget me

itoshi rin (blue lock) x gn!reader

genre: angst

summary: angst prompt 11(forced breakup) from my 1,700 follower event

warnings: language

rin is a professional player here

itoshi rin was deeply in love with you. even if he was traveling majority of the time with his team, he always made time for you. whether it be a 2 hour long phone call when he's in the hotel room after landing in a new country or sending packages to you while he was away filled with things he knew you enjoyed, he loved you. but sometimes being a professional also means having to please the public eye. that means getting rid of you.

it was right before the new season started that he broke up with you. even if he didn't want to, he had to. he loved you and he knew you loved him too and that this would tear things apart, but he had to accomplish his goals, his dreams. he just had to tell himself they were right, that you were becoming a problem. then maybe just maybe he would feel at least okay with doing this even if he knew it was wrong to do.

he figured to just make it short and to the point to lessen the blow, but it only made things worse in the end. with him trying to be as emotionless as possible around you so that you might believe this is what he wanted and not his pr team. but it was hard. he didn't want to lose you like this. but he had to choose. needless to say, he didn't choose you.

he figured to just make it short and to the point to lessen the blow, but it only made things worse in the end. with him trying to be as emotionless as possible around you so that you might believe this is what he wanted and not his pr team. but it was hard. he didn't want to lose you like this. but he had to choose. needless to say, he didn't choose you.

walking up to your apartment, a bag filled with food and drinks from the convenience store down the street in his hand, he rang the doorbell. tonight was the night. well, more like right now. rin had boughten you all of your favorite snacks and soda, hoping maybe if he gave it to you first and then said it that it might be a little less painful. he hoped a lot it would.

you quickly opened the door, immediately smiling when you saw his face. "hey! what are you doing here so late? it's half past 10," you said to him, opening the door more and starting to walk away, "come in."

"wait," rin said hesitantly, making you stop and turn back around to him. "i bought you some stuff." he held up the bag towards you, not taking a step inside but remaining outside on the doormat.

tilting your head to the side in confusion, you reached and grabbed the bag, peering inside of it and smiling bigger. "you got everything i like! is there a reason for this or are you just feeling sappy today for some reason?"

"there's a reason," rin replied, adjusting his stance as he moved some of his hair out of his eyes. "y/n, i think we should stop seeing each other."

the way your smile immediately dropped from your face felt like a punch in the gut for rin, knowing it would only get worse for you but better for him. he was regretting it already. he shouldn't have agreed to it. he should've kept denying your involvement effecting his work. but there was no turning back now. not anymore.

"what?" you questioned, "y-you're joking, right?" your voice cracked slightly near the end.

rin shook his head, averting his gaze and looking down at the ground as he continued speaking, "it's not a joke. i think this should end. i'm going to be famous, and to do that i need you out of my life." he wanted to add more, but he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from making it worse. 'just keep it short' rin could remember his pr team tell him. 'it'll hurt less that way' what a fucking stupid idea. short only made it worse.

"so that's what this is about? you becoming famous? so famous that you have to get rid of me?" you asked, taking a step closer to him as he took a step backwards. "that's the reason? what a fucking dumb reason, rin. i have been here for you through everything, and this is what i get in return? a bag filled with shit that you bought as what? your last gift? well fuck you!" you threw the bag at him, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

rin looked at you with shock, not expecting this reaction above anything else as he raised his hands up in surrender. "hold on a second-"

"no." you cut him off, pushing him away from you. "you think you can just throw everyone away out of your life? just to what? get over a damn grudge you've had since your teenage years with your fucking brother? grow up, rin. i never want to see you again." you finished, going behind the door and slamming it shut on his face.

rin could barely see out of his eyes, his vision suddenly becoming blurry to the point where he had to rub his eyes and feeling wetness on his fingers. was he crying? he hadn't cried in so long he couldn't tell. he expected a bad reaction, but nothing this bad. he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his face, covering his mouth so no one would hear his sobs as he stood there in front of your door. pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he took the picture out that was you and him and crouched down, sliding it under the door before turning and walking away.

he didn't even grab the bag off the ground, not wanting to stay a second longer as he cried the whole way back to his car quietly. once entering his car and closing the door is when he broke down. sobs wracking through his body loudly as he leaned his head on the steering wheel. there was no undoing this now. he had possibly said the worst thing as an excuse for this, resulting in him not being able to rewind and change what he said, making him an even worse mess.

he wanted to go back to your door, to apologize and tell the truth. that his pr team wanted him to do it and not himself. but he knew it would make no difference if he did. he already fucked up. there was no way to change it.

rin cried the whole time he drove home to his own apartment, continuously wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand before making it inside his place and sliding down the door, hitting the back of his head against the wood while crying. he should've just said no, he wouldn't break up with you. things would've been better then. but it was too late. he needed you to forget him so he could forget you. then maybe things would finally go his way.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock scenarios #bllk scenarios #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin imagines #rin scenarios #1700 follower event #request

[supreme-burrito]

And it is right here where you can feel the stick being pulled out of his ass

I knew I related to Lucifer the most

But when he said this

It punched me in the gut. Sure the way the line is presented makes him sound like an angsty teen, but no- I personally relate to what is going through Lucifer’s head right now.

This man has major, MAJOR trust issues with a capital T. He can’t trust anyone with his secrets, his true self, and thus has slowly closed his heart off to the entire world. In turn, it caused him to just start making assumptions without confrontation because he was afraid and anxious of his expectations not being met (his expectation that his brothers would want to go back to the Celestial Realm and not accept Satan as their brother) and was all but dead set on taking the option of ‘meeting the needs of the many’.

It may come off as Pride, but it isn’t. This is Emotional Damage.

If people don’t realize what the hell is going on in your head, then people will perceive your intentions as the former and fucking hate your ass for it. Someone in this position, unless they have the ability to listen to what other people have to say and are capable of taking feedback well, will continue to act this way until an intervention happens because they will think everything is alright with how they’re acting and the decisions they are making, without even realizing the damage they are doing to the people around them.

I know this from personal experience. I have been in Lucifer’s position multiple times in my past.

We (MC) knew this wasn’t true due to the Banshee Incident from a couple of chapters ago.

The literal slap in the face to see the truth of what his brothers actually wanted to do, to meet his expectations, made him realize that perhaps he could have a little more faith when it came to serious issues such as these.

And right at the end of the previous section after all the brothers leave, MC tells Lucifer that it’s okay to cry. Let me tell you, yeah after the interventions I’ve had, I’ve bawled my eyes out.

As time goes on, he might shove that stick up his ass again, but he will probably do it with more attention to detail.

Accepting the truth and admitting that you were in the wrong is a hard pill to swallow. I’ve swallowed this damn pill multiple times. It fucking hurts but I would rather do it than isolate myself from the entire world for being an arrogant jackass.

And most of the time people do not want to swallow that pill. This is when the emotional damage turns into an actual sin. It’s why the world is why it is today because of people such as these who think that their way of thinking is the only right way and everyone else is wrong.

Needless to say the end results were very satisfying.

I’m also kind of glad the non-Lucifuckers got a third option to give Lucifer the cold shoulder after the events of Chapter 12 and you can also completely avoid interacting with Mammon as well.

#obey me lucifer #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #spoilers

[kidge-planet]

pidge headcanon!

It was Pidge's birthday and I didn't do nothing... SO I GUESS I CAN WRITE A FEW PIDGE HC!

The Paladins often witnessed arguments among the Holts, especially between Pidge and Matt or Pidge and Colleen. For example, during lunch together, Matt joined them. He teased Pidge by calling her "his little baby tiny sister" and treated her like a baby in front of her friends. Needless to say, he got punched right in the guts. And as she punched him, her parents passed by and screamed in harmony, "KATIE!" In response, she simply raised her shoulder and said, "What? I was simply giving CPR to that old man..."

The Paladins have a group chat, and Pidge frequently sends random pictures and messages because she finds it amusing. It could be a picture of her forehead or something silly like her and Bae Bae covered in mud. Sometimes, she also sends pictures of Matt sleeping, or once, she sent a picture of Matt and her with glittery face masks on (she forced him to do it).

She loves peanut butter so much that as a kid, she used to take the peanut butter pot in her room and to hide it to eat it ENTIRELY at night.

Her biggest fear is her mother... (ironically)

One time, she wanted to make fly a small plane that she had built... She went on the roof to do it. The plane did fly and so did she. (She fell down the roof and lended in a huge bush full of flowers that she was allergic to not a huge allergie, just irritated her skin... Ho! And she broke her arm.) Colleen laughed ( when they were at the hospital and the doctors told her that she was fine!)

Also once, shut down the whole city's wifi... Lance remembers that day very well! (Even tho he didn't know Pidge by the time) he was watching the last episode of his show and suddenly, NO WIFI. If he today learned that it was her fault, he would probably act very dramatically in front of her like: "HOW COULD YOU?!!?" *Falls on the ground dramatically*.

Pidge was always doing risky stuffs and she was always taking Matt with her... They were always getting grounded.

SHE ONCE HAD A BUZZ CUT. BECAUSE SHE PUT GLUE IN HER HAIR. IMPOSSIBLE TO TAKE IT OUT... (She was 4)

Pidge got Baebae for her birthday... They were ALWAYS together... Sleeping together, eating together, BREATHING TOGETHER... Baebae is her best friend.

Well, pet best friend... Before Voltron, Pidge didn't have a lot of friends... I would say she had friends but probably 2 or something... I headcanon that she knew a girl and some times, they would sit and gossip a bit... This is the actual only female friend she had before Allura and they we're doing many stuffs together but then she moved to another country, somewhere.... And then there was a guy... A tall guy and he is probably the gayest man alive🤔 they know each other since kindergarten and their parents are good friends... These are some OCs I have, im maybe going to draw them.

Pidge used to have a crush on a guy guy from the high school's football team... She never told him but it was a quick crush... (She was 11... he was 17.)

She also used to have a crush on Shiro when she was 13... Shiro knew but never told her... (Matt told Shiro lmao).

Pidge loves animals and animals love her. (Her friends call her a Disney princess.........)

Pidge used to enjoy having long nails, that was before war! She now always cut them.

Pidge doesn't have a voluminous breast, but she binds (she started when she had to prentend to be a guy and felt more confortable with her binder and then stopped after the war.)

same as the nails, Pidge loved her long hair! you can see it in episode 5 season 1: when she hcut heer hair, she hesitate and doesn't seem to actually want it... later, she liked her short haircut, but she would always prefer and miss her short hair...

At home, Colleen speaks Italian ( in the Atlas too, which was confusing to the paladins)

tell me if you'd like more of these!!!

#pidge and keith #keith and pidge #voltron kidge #keith #pidge #keith voltron #voltron pidge #voltron #kidge #voltron legendary defender

[specksizedgoddess]

Piercing

Punching a hole in your exoskeleton, not anywhere vital, so I can string you on my keychain. So many things these days have moved to apps or RFIDs that a girl can hardly collect enough keys to make it jingle so instead I'll just use you. As I slither around, hips swaying, everyone knows both that I like girls and what I can do to tiny ones like you. But for your services, you are compensated. I'll give you little snacks throughout the day and show you off to other cute girls who like bugs. And maybe you might get caught up in some hip-grinding action at the club, who knows. All that matters is that you're mine and are a highly valued accessory that I'm going to take good care of.

Maybe one night, you help me score so I tell you I've got something special planned and that I'll give you a special treat afterwards. I take you and slide you in to replace one of my nipple piercings. She was fascinated by you, so putting you someplace spicy to surprise her tonight seemed like a fun idea. From your new position, you can tell I'm nervous as the boob sweat builds up around you and the air between my breasts and my bra gets mustier and mustier. Hours later you hear her and can feel her squeezing you through my clothes. Needless to say, she's delighted to finally see you again and toys with us. As she gets more desperate she begins humping my tits and you get to be front and center to a pussy easily five times your size as it slathers and smooshed you over and over, too large to even register if or how many times you've cum while trapped. Changing positions again you find yourself crushed between our tits, sweaty and panting as we make out, you're practically drowning and suffocating, but then, but then, she kisses you. and she kisses you, oh and she kisses you. Pinned into me, stuck in a tiny hole made for a slim metal rod, she kisses and suck you, us, and you feel yourself coming loose. her kisses deepen, her tongue wriggles around you, coaxing you out further, until you're sucked into her mouth and she swallows. While the passage of her throat is wider and less cramped than my nip, the ribbons of slimy, hot flesh rip around your body, and sudden explosion of sensation from your previous confines. As you stew in her guts and slowly start to melt, a musky, tasty slime drops in from the ceiling above you: your promised special treat, cummies from your owner of many months. "Enjoy your treat" you hear from outside, something out there still acknowledging you as more than food or a toy. But soon enough you're part of the cutie that's gonna be my special treat very soon... after all, you two may be sated, but my tummy's rumbling.

~🐍💜

(PS. I can decide if it'd be funnier to have you in my nipple with your pussy out or not. Just exhibiting you to anyone who gets me with my bra off. But the other way you can wriggle and let of steam inside me. Maybe I control which version based on who I'm gonna see that day and on if you've been a good accessory :3 hehehe. Anyways, hundred kissies blast!!!)

HDJSJDJWJSKDJWBOH MY GOSH HUN <33333

IKSHDHS SIM SO NROAML MHMM

Letting out a yelp as you pierce me, staring up at you eagerly... so exited to be yours... a little keychain, dangling so happily, making little noises with every move you make~ happily squeaking every time you reach down and push me around, any time I'm shook with the rest of your little trinkets...

GOSH I can just imagine her face... curious eyes staring at me as I wave, her giggles as she's absolutely fascinated... watching the two of you strike it off, happily waiting... even more exited when you secure me into place~ squirming against your tit as I blush, eagerly kissing and adoring it...

I certainly dont mind the sweat, it gives me something to try to help with while we wait~ and sureenough, she appears, even more eager to see you- and so entertained by the little plaything against your chest...

Soaked. almost drowning, gasping for air as she moans and enjoys herself~ grinding against your chest, and me~ a dizzy little speck dazed with lust climaxing over and over between the two of you... slurped up in an intimate kiss~

Slathered in the drool from both pairs of her lips, stomach juices coating me as the two of you adore one another... you swear you can hear an eager moan muffled from inside her when you do cum down her throat <3

Also AWAWAWA KISSING YOU BACK MWAH MWAH MWAH

#thanks for the ask! #🐍 #hannddfab :33

[marciabrady]

i rewached the hunchback of notre dame on friday for the first time, in a long time, and i'm still in shock.

hond was a film that was around when i was a child, because it had just come out, and the merchandising was still prevalent. it was being pushed a lot, so to speak, and growing up in the era that i did, the kids on the playground or online were either belle, meg, or esmeralda girls- there wasn't room for anyone else. as a child that gravitated more toward the classic princesses and femininity, it was not a movie that spoke to me and the fact that i felt it was shoved down my throat turned me off of it for a time. too much happened, even in the first five minutes, and there was constantly a wild series of events that i would try to reel my head in from. it wasn't a universe i wished to inhabit and, frankly, i think the crux of the reason why i didn't like it was because esmeralda was really the only female character (aside from laverne) and there wasn't enough for me, as a child, outside of the violence and shouting men and misery showcased. i revisited the film when i was twelve and i loved it so, but i think parts of me valued it at even higher a premium because of how rare and forgotten it had been. i even wrote esmeralda for a time. needless to say, it didn't last, and until now i've kind of been undecided about it

but watching it on friday...wow. i'm filled with both wonderment and despair. after craving quality content from disney for so long and continually being disappointed with tangled and frozen and moana and brave and raya, and every other movie i've tried to watch, i was instantly transfixed by how adult hunchback was, from the opening frames. the epic scale of the art, how ambitious it seemed, how elevated the jargon was- but mostly, how raw and realistic the storyline was. this movie threw no punches- it contained swear words, topics relating to disabilities, religion, death, genocide, se*ual assault, you literally name it. it exposed an underbelly of society that could be flattering and unflattering. while parts didn't age well, i'm surprised at how nuanced the conversation was around certain topics- decades before me too and social activism became more commonplace. i couldn't believe how beautiful it was and how much guts it took for the artists and writers to really go there. i was in disbelief for how evolved their viewpoints seemed, and this was before the internet was commonplace and they could've gotten as many viewpoints as readily as we can get them now...but then it filled me with instant sorrow, because i know they all got so much pushback and this film was so discouraged, we never saw the likes of it again.

it's funny because this film came years after the little mermaid, and you can tell how much of a higher budget this crew had to work with. the film's crew had sharpened their abilities and skills from previous years and made astounding technical advancements. that, mixed with how varied and diverse their topics became really signaled them finding their footing- or trying to. can you imagine, if they didn't give up on these types of movies, where we'd be today? how many more diverse stories, in diverse settings, we would've gotten- all adult in nature? the beautiful 2d designs and animation mixed to heighten the effect and impact and how it would've rounded out walt's vision, of wanting these films to not only be kid's stuff but genuinely be able to compete as a film genre unto itself? how different this movie was from any other??? and compare that to now, where they're all the same. what's the difference between dreamsworks, pixar, and disney movies anymore? and the activism they push now is 20 years too late, nothing cutting edge, and it's all the same. this female character is this much more badass, our first (minor) gay character that actually has no weight, addressing x about generation trauma, etc. even the topics we address in films now have been so sanitized and vetted out for audience approval that there's no real risk or edge to anything anymore, it's all monolithic and as safe as you can get.

but that's the thing with how experimental these later movies were- pocahontas, hunchback, hercules, mulan...while certain elements aged better than others, these movies should've been the beginning of an entirely new genre, not the last of their kind? how disturbing and offputting is it that tangled and brave came out decades after these films? that we've replaced the 'hellfire' villain type song with 'shiny?' we really could've had so much and it's sad that everything collapsed out from under us in that last breath of disney creating true art

the only thing that gives me hope is that we, the generation that grew up on these films, are the marketplace now. perhaps that will make these films come back into vogue and disney start producing them once more? but can they ever pick back up after such a long hiatus, without the original creative teams? is it all just a lost art form? also disney is making more money than ever with their marketable, but soulless, movies that are coming out now...also if these movies are to be in the spotlight again, does that just mean they'll be primed for another unnecessary remake? don hahn recently said disney only did animation because they couldn't make the special effects look real, but now that there's cgi to achieve hyperrealism, there's no need for 2d anymore and that's so sad to me. just because photorealism is in (which looks dated by the minute) and 3d is what people prefer, does that mean 2d is banished forever? that's like saying the invention of photography justifies the banishment of art. idk i just hope our generation can get these renaissance style movies back and to stay

#mine #marciabrady #the hunchback of notre dame

[icallhimjoey]

Fuck toning it down

I was starved before launching myself to the new chapter, needless to say that I fucking devoured it.

Not really the first time that something you write affects me or speaks directly at me, it’s always different aspects of the reader point of view that touch me but there’s something about “more than this”, about her that’s so familiar yet so distant. I basically say it every time I read one of stories but this one might be it. I relate to her on so many levels that actually scares me a little, it’s hard to really acknowledge those part of myself when I’m in my head but seeing them, reading about her vulnerabilities made hold that side of me a little bit tighter.

I know the imagining work is mostly done by my mind but the whole market scene was so nicely put that picturing it was so easy, it was like I was reliving a memory.

There were honestly so many good parts that made me extremely feral, the whole skin and teeth clashing bit had me in a chokehold. It’s never just plain old sex with you, there’s lust and feelings and passion and some more feelings, it’s soulful. (Even when it’s just raw and senseless shagging)

I mean

Really hold onto you right there. Bruise you right there.

or even

Forehead fucking

After reading this I immediately closed my eyes to take it all in, too fucking powerful for my lonely touch starved arse.

But babes, nothing could’ve prepared me for this. It was subtle, almost didn’t notice it, it was hiding in plain sight.

(I’m probably reading too much into it and just spewing nonsense at this point but this is what I got from it.)

“I hope that,” you started, then turned to look at him at the other end of the hallway. “I hope that if you meet someone who treats you like I do, that you choose to walk away.”

It was a plea. We begged him to understand us, to see us as we see ourselves.

We want him to get it without really saying it, because actually saying it would be too much, it would become real. The mess in our head it’s clouding our sight, it’s making us believe that he deserve someone else, someone better, someone who’s ready to give and receive more than what we could ever take.

We need to let go of some of those for us unbridgeable differences and let the mighty walls crumble, we need to allow ourselves to be that someone, because we are enough as we are, we deserve that kind of affection too. If it’s a punch in the gut every time he looks at us with a glint of yearning in his eyes, letting go it’s going to leave a soaring hole in our chest.

We need to be greedy when it matters, or else we’re gonna be swallowed whole.

P.S. Relating to her would be an understatement. I am her and she’s me. There’s a lot have yet to still to understand about myself but this fic really succeed at translating some of those thoughts for me. Glad to know that we’re all a bit the same, much love for each and every one of us <3

#i never mean to write shit that hurts #but to theN HURT ME BACK??????? #so uncalled for #<333 #more than this

[captain-chompers]

Emergency Commissions / Character Sales for Vet Bills

So after numerous vet visits, on Friday I got the confirmation that my cat, Peter, has a large growth - which was indeed cancerous - in his bladder.

But with vets comes bills, and needless to say, this last visit gut punched me for around $600, and he has another appointment Tuesday which will just be another large bill. Cat has it out for my wallet

So in order to combat these growing debts I have decided to open up my Discord / Twitch emote commissions. These come with commercial rights to use as you please I am also selling some of my older OCs on my toyhouse.

All information is found on my flight rising forum post here. You can also message me on discord Twink God#6136 if that's easier.

I really hope this doesn't sound guilt trippy or anything, but this cat is like my child and idk what to do.

Bonus picture of Peter in the car from Thursday's visit

#commissions #emergency commissions #flight rising

[void-heroes]

𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙔 𝙏𝙄𝙀𝙎

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥: 𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗗

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗘𝗡 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗩𝗘 | 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡

Top Gun: Maverick | Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!OC

Also published on my Wattpad (-voidheroes)!

Maverick stood in front of a monitor that displayed a flight simulation. "Phase one of the mission will be a low-level attack. You'll be flying along the narrow canyon walls to the target. The surface-to-air missiles defend the skies above, not the canyon below."

"That's because no one is insane enough to fly below," Rooster admitted.

"That's exactly what I'm going to train you to do." Maverick described the low altitudes and high speeds the pilots would be flying for today's simulation. It was an improvement from the actual altitude and speed required for the mission, but it still felt like a punch in the gut to the aviators. No pilot had ever flown a mission like this before, not even Maverick. Was this a mission they could even come back from?

"Time to target is two and a half minutes." That was the second punch of the day. "Fifth-generation fighter jets wait at a base nearby. You need to get in, and you need to get out. This makes time your greatest adversary."

Needless to say, no one excelled in this phase of the training. After the final rounds of team trials, the group of aviators shared a collective expression of defeat. Maverick prodded them for reasons behind their mistakes, yet none were to his satisfaction nor would they be to the families of the pilots.

Rooster's mind was spinning out of control like a plane experiencing engine failure. He struggled to focus on Maverick's criticisms as his thoughts raced of Emerson. She was the closest person he had to family. If he flew this mission and she didn't, what would the Navy tell her if he didn't come home? Would she mourn him or move on? Could she stop flying? Then, he thought if the roles were reversed. How would he react to the news of Emerson's death? The loud sobs of his mother echoed in his mind as he thought about the day his mother learned Goose was dead.

"What happened?" Maverick questioned Hangman.

A prideful smirk evident on his face, "I flew as fast as I could. Kind of like my life depended on it."

"Yeah, and you put your team in danger, and now your wingman is dead," Rooster criticized.

"They couldn't keep up."

"Glad to know we can count on you, Hangman," Emerson stated sarcastically.

Maverick turned his attention to Rooster, "Why are you dead?"

"Sir, he's the only one who made it to the target," Emerson declared.

"Was I asking, Raven? He was late which gave time for enemy aircraft to shoot him down."

"You don't know that," Rooster argued.

Hangman sighed, "You're not flying fast enough."

"We made it to the target."

"And the enemy intercepted you on your way out," Maverick countered.

The air in the room was growing thick with tension. The other pilots shifted in their seats uncomfortably as Rooster and Maverick disagreed about the mission. "It's not the plane, sir. It's the pilot."

"Exactly!" Maverick shouted. Their fight only further proved to Maverick that Rooster was not mission-ready nor willing to accept what Maverick had to teach him.

"There's more than one way to fly this mission," Bradley finished.

"You don't get it. A man's either got to fly like Maverick or a man doesn't come back," Hangman turned towards Raven and Phoenix, "No offense."

"And yet, you always manage," Bob replied on behalf of the two women and Raven high-fived him.

"We're going into combat, on a level no living pilot has ever seen," Hangman faced Maverick now, "Not even him. Now's not the time to be thinking about the past."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bradley demanded.

"I can't be the only one who knows Maverick used to fly with his old man and that it was Maverick flying when—" Rooster sprang from his seat, "You son of a bitch!" The rest of the pilots darted to opposite sides, attempting to restrain the two men.

Hangman brushed off the hands of his fellow pilots, "I'm cool."

Bradley fumed beside Emerson. His body trembled with anger as his hands were clenched into rageful fists. Yet, he remained in his spot next to Emerson, not taking any further action against Hangman.

Emerson stood in front of the arrogant pilot, "One day you'll get what's coming to you, Hangman."

He grinned, not affected by her threat. "But not today," he mimicked Emerson's words from the Hard Deck.

Emerson was fed up with Hangman's constant disrespect towards the ones she cared about and herself; he deserved a serious ego check. The other pilots had clean records to uphold, but Emerson's record was littered with insubordination and unsanctioned flybys; she could afford another violation. So, for the third, and final punch of the day, Emerson Raye Blackwood swung at Jake Seresin's face.

"That's enough! You're all dismissed!" Maverick shouted in disappointment. Hangman and the others left the room.

Bradley reached for Emerson's still curled up fist. Bruises began to form along her knuckles as he inspected her hand. "Let's take care of this." He led them to the room the pilots waited in during team training exercises. He grabbed a towel from the kitchenette and placed several ice cubes on it. He wrapped it up and placed it on her hand.

"Thanks."

Bradley observed Emerson's features. Her brows were still knit together with anger. Her chest rose and fell at a quicker pace as she tried to calm down from the prior escalation. Bradley wasn't angry at Hangman anymore; he was more concerned about the woman in front of him. "I know why you did it. I'm not saying you should have, but I know why," he spoke in reference to Emerson's record.

"He's a dick. You're my friend. You didn't deserve it, but he did. Besides flying like that will get a team killed."

Bradley smiled at her odd form of compassion, "That's saying something coming from you. You're the most dangerous pilot here."

Emerson met his gaze, "I know, but I'm not stupid. I'm only willing to put myself in danger."

✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎

The next day, Maverick requested that Rooster and Raven arrive early to training. The two walked into the room Maverick asked to meet them in. "What is this?" Hangman questioned their presence.

Emerson saw Hangman in the corner as she entered the room. There was a bruise forming along his jawline. Though she was proud to be the reason for his bruise, she still had no interest in being in the same room as him. "Sir, respectfully, no. I'm out of here."

Maverick grabbed the arm of the fleeing woman, "Nope, nope. Everybody is going to stay right here and work this out as a team. Raven, apologize to Hangman for punching him yesterday."

She scoffed, "Are you fucking kidding me? After what he said, I ought to—"

"Raven," Maverick interjected.

She threw her arms up in surrender, "Fine! Hangman, I am so sorry that your face got in the way of my fist."

Rooster snickered, but he quickly straightened up after a frightening glare from Maverick. "Raven."

She groaned. "Jake Seresin, I am so humbly sorry that I punched you," she said, adding a bow for dramatic effect.

"Now, you're just acting like a child," Maverick noted. Though, it was Emerson who felt like Maverick was the one treating them like children.

"Listen, that's about the best you're going to get from me, sir."

He released an exasperated sigh but decided it was best to move on. "Hangman, apologize to Rooster for your comments about his father."

"I'm sorry, Bradshaw."

Rooster nodded his head in recognition of the man's apology. Emerson couldn't determine whether the pilot was sincere.

"See, now that wasn't so bad. This is good team building."

"Oh please, cut the bullshit, Mav." Emerson started for the door.

"Fine. You don't like this method? Let's try something else. Gather everyone. We're headed to the beach."

✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎

Maverick introduced his group of naval aviators to 'dogfight football'. Was it a real game or something Maverick made up on the spot? Emerson determined that would be one of life's mysteries.

He explained that it was similar to the game of football, except in dogfight football, offense and defense were played simultaneously. They split into two teams. Hangman and Rooster were team captains, each respectively resuming the role of quarterback. Emerson was on Rooster's team.

Dressed in civilian clothes, not prepared for their impromptu beach trip, the group of aviators quickly worked up a sweat. After a few minutes of playing, most articles of clothing were shed. Nearby beachgoers gawked at the men's toned bodies, their sweat glistening in the afternoon sun. Hangman made a point to flex in front of a few women sitting under an umbrella not far from where they played.

Emerson threw his shirt at him, "No one wants to see that, Hangman."

He strolled over to her. His body was so close that Emerson could see each individual bead of sweat that lingered on his shirtless body. "It's okay to stare, Raven. We all know you like what you see."

At her side, a fist began to form, "I punched you once, Seresin. Don't think I won't do it again."

Her comment was loud enough for Bradley to hear, so he rushed over to the two before another fight could break out. "Whoa, easy there, Tiger. Let's not give Mav any more reasons for a team-building exercise." His sweaty arms enveloped her own, restraining her from doing any more damage to Hangman's face. She dragged her feet in the sand as he practically towed her away. "This is just embarrassing," she remarked.

The teams had been playing for a while now, and if they were being honest, both had lost track of the score. Bradley had the ball. Coyote and Omaha rushed towards him; Bradley had to think fast, or the play would result in a sack. Feeling like Tom Brady, Bradley threw the ball in the direction of Emerson. She was open, but Fanboy and Payback were hot on her tail.

Inbound to Raven's position, Fanboy faceplanted in the sand. Stepping on his back and launching off, Emerson jumped over the hunched position of Payback and reached into the air for the football like she was a professional wide receiver. Sticking the landing in the hot sand, she cheered with joy.

Her teammates rushed to their victor, applauding her skill. Bradley watched from his spot. Emerson had the biggest smile plastered on her face; it shined brighter than the sun. He was in love with the radiant glow it brought to her. No, he was in love with her. How did he, Bradley Bradshaw, get lucky enough to have someone like Emerson Blackwood in his life?

Bradley approached his team. He snaked his arms around Emerson's waist and picked her up in a hug as she threw her arms around his neck. "That's my girl," he said just loud enough for her to hear.

The group spent the rest of their day at the beach after deciding they all deserved a break from their strenuous training.

As the sun set below the horizon, everyone packed up their belongings and headed their separate ways. Emerson stuck her hand out to Bradley, "You coming home with me tonight, Lieutenant?"

✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎     ✈︎

Emerson's back was pressed firmly against her front door. Bradley's lips hungrily explored every inch of exposed skin. Emerson moaned under his touch, "Br-Brad-Bradley, I got to get the key in the door first, babe."

He allowed her to turn around, but his hands continued to roam her body while his lips sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck which he was sure would leave a mark by morning. "God, you're killing me, Em."

They were finally inside; Bradley's eyes filled with desire. Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around his sturdy waist. He carried them to the bedroom, his lips never once leaving hers.

"What is with you, Bradley?" She asked as he laid her down. His lips trailed down her stomach while his fingers fiddled with the waistband of her jeans. It wasn't in a complaining tone; Emerson was just curious about his newfound drive.

He stopped and surveyed the woman below him. Emerson's chest rose and fell to the same rhythm as his own heartbeat. Beneath her long lashes, were emerald eyes littered with specks of gold. Her thick, blonde curls were sprawled across the bed and her face held a dopey grin. Bradley Bradshaw was absolutely, utterly in love with her. He wanted, needed, to admit the truth, but how could he? Soon, the two would head out on a mission with no guarantee of their return. And even if they did return, what would come next for the two? Another deployment void of each other? "I just thought you might want to celebrate the win."

Emerson sat up, "Well as much as I do certainly enjoy this type of celebration, I would much rather prefer a shower."

He sat on her bed as she headed to her bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and turned to face him, "That doesn't mean you can't join me."

The biggest smile spread across Bradley's face. Yes, he was absolutely in love with this woman. He stood up and chased after her.

Later that night, after their shower, Bradley laid with his arm around a sleeping Emerson, wide awake. He was restless thinking about his earlier revelation. Quietly, he snuck out of her bedroom and grabbed the keys to his Bronco.

The route to the cemetery was muscle memory at this point in his life. He had spent so many days there that he could probably make the drive with his eyes shut. Parking his Bronco, his feet involuntarily guided him to a small, simple headstone. In front of him, it read, "Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw. Lieutenant and Beloved Father".

Bradley stared at the headstone, "Talk to me, Dad." He paused attempting to collect his thoughts. "Hey Dad, there's that girl I've told you about, Emmie. I realized today that I'm in love with her. It felt like something you should know. I think I've always been in love with her, though. I was just too slow to realize it." Tears brimmed in his eyes now. "God, I just wish you were here, Dad. I wish I could ask you how you and Mom did it. How you knew she was the one."

Tag List: @littlewhiterose​ @starkleila​ @alexayoonlee​ @lclove2012-blog​

#top gun #topgun #top gun maverick #topgunmaverick #miles teller #milesteller #bradley bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #fanfiction #maverick #pete mitchell #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #phoenix #top gun fanfiction #navy #tom cruise

[rebelsandrogues]

On Mourning and Radical Music

I was doing my usual morning routine of drinking iced coffee, smoking a cigarette, and checking Twitter on Wednesday when I received a real gut-punch: Shuhada' Sadaqat (better known by her stage name of Sinéad O’Connor) was dead at 56. A beautiful soul, long-time outspoken artist and activist, and an Irish treasure. It hit harder than I’d even realized it would.

Now, to be fair, I do not have an easy time dealing with death, of anything. I sometimes get choked up seeing a cat or dog on the side of the road that has, unfortunately, been hit by a vehicle. 

A good number of my personal heroes have, sadly, passed in the last 20+ years of adulthood. The first I was really affected by was Johnny Cash in 2003, but I immediately wondered why this one felt so personal. For the majority of that day I sat alone, revisiting her catalog and thinking about the reasons why. Then it dawned on me: she was one of the first musicians that truly made an impact on me from the very moment of exposure. 

I must’ve been 8 or 9, in the early 90s, long before the very small town of my upbringing got MTV or Much Music. Our local TV station aired popular new wave, alt-rock, etc videos from the 80s and very early 90s. I’d stay up on Fridays, at my maternal grandparents’ house, being exposed to the likes of Devo, the Lightning Seeds, the Pet Shop Boys, and Sinéad. 

I don’t exactly remember which video it was that I saw first, perhaps “Mandinka” or, most likely, “Nothing Compares 2 U”, but I distinctly remember being enthralled by something that was completely out of the ordinary and emotive, an experience I wouldn’t begin to even understand until I was much older. I was experiencing a *very* radical artist for the first time. 

Now, I’m very fortunate that, for the majority of my nearly 40 years on this spinning rock, I’ve constantly been surrounded by good music. My parents are two sides of the same coin. My dad was a 70s rocker. He loves Skynyrd, Zeppelin, Bob Seger (who he’s always reminded me of), the Who, etc. Hell, he followed ZZ Top around for a while in his late teens. My mom, she was more into singer-songwriters like Neil Young, Dan Fogelberg, and, her absolute teenage favorite, John Denver (whom she invited to her high school graduation, but that’s a story for another time). 

Needless to say, I had very early exposure to fantastic bands and musicians. 

Now, an older cousin and her then-boyfriend enter the conversation. They loved R.E.M. (who had filmed a video in my hometown, and had album art created by a local folk artist), 10,000 Maniacs, L7, and loads of 80s “College Rock”. Her boyfriend first played me the Ramones, Minor Threat, and Black Flag around age 10. None of which I really unpacked the impact of until I was in my late mid-late teens. Thinking back on it, this early exposure set me on a course of fierce independence and learning all I could about both the musicians I loved, but also the underpinnings of what made their art special.

I remember the infamous SNL episode where O’Connor ripped up a picture of Pope John Paul II. I was nearly 10 at the time, but didn’t understand what it meant until a couple of decades later. Yet, that influence percolated, subconsciously, for so long. 

Shortly after, I was exposed to the Cranberries, led by Dolores O’Riordan (another Irish treasure). I bought the cassette singles of “Linger” and “Dreams”. Then, “No Need to Argue” followed. I was immediately taken aback by it. “Zombie” is, of course, the best known song, but “Dreaming My Dreams”, “I Can’t Be With You”, “Ridiculous Thoughts”.  Honestly, every track resonated with 11 year old me. I spent much of 4th grade drawing what I saw in my head as scenes from the song “Zombie”. These days I would probably have faced VERY bad consequences for that, but this was 1994. When I got my first guitar at age 12, that was the first song I learned. 

In 5th grade a friend loaned me a cassette copy of the Crow soundtrack. Amidst making mix tapes of alt-rock songs off the radio, this was a turning point. Stone Temple Pilots’ “Big Empty” all but knocked me over the first time I heard it. And, as one does, I rewound and played it over and over and over. 

I distinctly remember sitting outside, waiting for my grandmother to pick me up from school, with my Walkman and headphones on. I listened to that tape and my mixes (which included Gin Blossoms, R.E.M., Hootie and the Blowfish, along with many others), thinking “I’m so much cooler than all of you”. 

This music was an escape. It was something that gave me life. It was something that made me feel different from everyone else stuck listening to the pop music of the era. It was special, it was my secret.

Middle school brought more discovery of punk rock (Green Day’s “Dookie”, Rancid’s “…And Out Come the Wolves”, and other typical mid-90s shit) along with ska. I was “technically” only allowed to listen to Christian music (goth bless my grandma, who didn’t give a shit one way or another, I was the favorite grandchild). This, in turn,  led me to discovering Five Iron Frenzy. 

They were a loosely “Christian” band that wrote songs about the removal of indigenous peoples because of manifest destiny, songs critiquing capitalism, songs about accepting people for who they were (there’s a song on a late 90s EP about the singer finding out Freddie Mercury was gay and working through it). I credit them, in retrospect, for a lot of my political and religious evolution (the band was full of communists, anarchists, and atheists). 

At this point in time, the underground music scenes were pretty mixed. Very vocal bands that held varying beliefs, all played together, supported each other, exposed small-town kids, like myself, to many points of view. I read liner notes like novels, taking in every word, researching (as best I could, this was before we had the internet at home) and trying to find the bands mentioned in the “thank you” section. I was seeking out more of this feeling that had captivated me at such an early age.

I’d spend the next, nearly, 20 years playing in bands, always chasing the same feeling that felt as special as those early days of my musical journey.

I am a consummate student of music, it was (and still is) my first, and biggest love. As time has rolled on, I’ve discovered so many artists that have made me feel like I’m engaged in a secret many do not know. 

In reality, that’s not at all the case. Many of these bands and musicians are widely revered, but none-the-less radical in context. From the blues of Sonhouse, to Sister Rosetta Tharpe, to Little Richard, to Link Wray, to the New York Dolls and the proto-punk of the 70s, to more modern bands like Pissed Jeans or Uniform or Soul Glo, it’s still my main love and fully has my heart. 

All of this to say, I’m so happy that Ms. O’Connor, in some way, played a part in this. That, at almost 40 years of age, these artists still keep me on my toes. They continue to bring me joy and comfort. I’m eternally grateful that the ones named (and the thousands I didn’t name) existed/continue to exist, in some way. I hope they continue to inspire and change the lives of other kids like me that find out about them and feel like they hold the secret to life. 

Rest in power to her and the other real heroes we’ve lost. Their impact will continue to be felt because of the art they created, and those who continue to be inspired by it.

#sinead o'connor #punk rock #inspiration #activism #music #essay

[thecatchat]

The Zeal of Hep

------

Sapnap felt the stress of the situation rolling off his shoulders as he closed the door behind him. Hep, the accidental fusion of Quackity and Karl, was still rambling on and on and on. As far as he could tell they hadn't paused for a breath and he was starting to wonder if they even needed to breath at all.

Within minutes of landing in the new dimension, they'd been found and picked up by some scientific organization. Apparently, one of their own members had become a Traveler and had been terrified by their first experience in another dimension. Of course, Karl had run off to help while he and Quackity got a tour of some of the inventions they had. They were in the middle of watching... something with a name that he couldn't pronounce, when Karl had burst in the doors and into Quackity. Both tumbled into the machine and by the time it was turned off, Hep was standing in their place.

Now, Hep was emptying their pockets onto the table. Two sets of keys, a handful of pencils, an assortment of candy, three bike locks, a clock, a bird-

Sapnap did a double take at the white bird cooing and hopping around the table. It looked at him with confused eyes. As confused as a bird can look anyhow. Stretching out its wings, it flew up and perched on Hep's shoulder.

"My loves," his voice strained slightly at the sight, "why do you have a bird?"

"It was in reach." They explained while continuing to add to the pile that had already doubled in size. He didn't even know what most of it was called, just that all of it was stolen. They had been pick pocketing, breaking and entering, and trespassing all day despite Sapnap's best efforts.

The scientists had offered to get them a place to stay while they took a day to go over the data and set up the machine to fix this mess. The only condition was that they lay low and not get into any trouble. Everything Hep did was trouble. At first it was amusing to see them open a vending machine like it was a personal ice box or pour all the hard candies out of the front desks bowl and into their handbag while making pleasant conversation. Now, it was just needless risk after needless risk.

"You want any?" Hep offered a banana while suddenly holding a cat in his arms.

"No!" Sapnap snapped, "I don't want a banana. I don't want a cat or a bird or whatever any of this. I don't need any of this. You don't need any of this! Just-" the smell of smoke stopped him short. The carpet had begun to smolder under his feet. The heat still simmered in the air as he swallowed back the burst of anger and told them, "Forget it. I'm taking a nap."

He stalked into the only other room and closed the door behind him sharply.

Hep could feel the vibrations of the sound like a punch to the gut. They went through the events of the day in their mind. "Oh." They turned to the two animals who stared at them from the table. "Oh, I've been a real moron. I- We can fix it. We can apologize. We've been so stupid."

This was easy. This was gonna be a breeze. They did it all the time separated: do something that frustrated Sapnap, apologize about it, get forgiven, then fluster him until he relaxed. The door was right there. There was absolutely nothing stopping them from going inside... They should probably empty their pockets first though, it would be really awkward if something fell out while he was apologizing.

---------

Sapnap laid stiffly on his back, staring at the ceiling. He'd snapped harder than he ever had before at either of them and he was starting to feel the regret seeping in. It was all things that needed to be said but saying them in a surge of emotions and nearly setting fire to the carpet was certainly not the best way of doing it.

"Knock knock," Hep called from the other side of the door, "Can I come in?" Oh, so now he asks to go places! Considering how many places he'd broken into today, Sapnap was almost surprised that Hep knew how to ask.

"I don't know," Sapnap replied back, "can't you just pick the lock?" XD, he didn't know where this level of snarkiness was coming from. He supposed he must have picked it up from the other two at some point, but he'd never snarked at either of them before. Is this what being petty was like? It was leaving quite a bitter feeling behind.

It was quiet for several minutes and Sapnap was beginning to wonder if Hep had gone off on another law breaking spree. Neither Karl nor Quackity stayed in one spot for long unless they felt like they had to, he figured Hep would be the same. But he hadn't heard footsteps walk away or any doors opening or closing. Were they hurt?

He quickly got up and strode over to the door, nearly stepping onto Hep on his way out.

"We-" Hep scrambled onto their feet, nearly falling over in their rush, "I didn't mean it."

"What?" Sapnap asked. He'd been so shocked that they were still there that they hadn't actually heard what they said.

Hep's face was pulled tight with regret yet their voice sounded like they were giving a sales pitch as they explained, "I didn't mean to make you so upset. I was just so excited to test out my skills that I kinda forgot about everything else. Including laws and stuff. I- We're sorry."

Strange body language aside, Sapnap couldn't stay mad when faced with a genuine apology. He knew he couldn't let the matter go entirely either. But he'd been a bit hot headed about it and the guilt was starting to eat at his mind.

He pulled them into a gentle hug. "Even if an apology doesn't make everything magically better, it's a good start." He could feel the way they melted into the hug with relief. If he wasn't still trying to put his foot down, he'd be scooping them into his arms and peppering kisses all over their face.

"So," Hep asked with a sly voice and shy smile, "can we cuddle now?"

Sapnap raised an eyebrow. He internationally debated the chances of Hep being able to read his mind, again. Still, they really needed to figure out what they were going to do about the pile of stolen goods. And the animals too.

"Come on. From what I can vaguely remember, Judge and Firecracker got cuddles. Don't you want cuddles?" Hep purred out while combing their fingers through his hair.

Cuddles sounded lovely. He could feel his resolve crumbling with second he stared into their mismatched eyes. It was hypnotic. One eye stayed a dark brown that nearly looked black while the other changed with every blink from yellow to pink to blue to -

He tore his eyes away as he tried to regain some semblance of order. Their eyes were beautiful but he needed to get them back on track. Then again, who said you couldn't have a serious discussion while cuddling?

"Fine," Sapnap tried to sound begrudging but the word was dripping with affection.

"Yes!" They cheered out, giggling as they pulled Sapnap back towards the bed. With a quick spin and a nudge, Sapnap was back to sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Scooch over bacon," they said as they waited for him to make room, "sizzlin' is moving in."

Sapnap laughed at the absurd saying. It was such a Karl thing to do, saying the strangest things that never failed to shock a laugh out of him. "Oh XD. You sound ridiculous!"

Hep joined him on the bed as the laughter faded out, nearly smacking Sapnap in the face with the wide floppy brim of their hat.

Normally, he'd be tempted to make some kind of joke or comment on it. Perhaps even come up with a ridiculous name for it too. Normally.

"You're still angry."

"I'm not angry."

"Yes, you are. I can tell," Hep turned to face him, pushing the brim of their hat out of the way so they could see. "I'm really good at reading body language. Like, freakishly good at it... when I'm focused on it." They add on at the end after seeing skepticism flood Sapnap's face.

Honestly, he was more than a little shocked at that but the more he thought about it the more obvious it became. Prowa's entire social structure seemingly revoled around subtle words and body language in a much more complex way than in Quarry. Needing to constantly keep in mind which tone someone used or look out for the slightest break in face, it resembled political debates more than any type of business meeting or casual social gathering.

And Karl... didn't really have a body language. He borrowed and mimicked other people's body language. From so many different dimensions. Every now and then he'd get confused and mix up some of the signals and scare someone half to death but he bounces back quick as a-

*thwap*

Sapnap definitely does not yelp when Hep turned their head and hit him with the brim of their hat. He merely let out a slightly high pitched sound of alarm.

"Careful. How about you take your hat off?" Wait, wasn't there some social rules about wearing hats in certain situations in Prowa? He couldn't remember what they were so he quickly added, "At least, while we're this close."

"Right, yah." Hep rolls their eyes fondly and he says it in a way that Sapnap knows he's going to get teased for something later. Then Hep slides off their hat with a dramatic flourish.

"Woh-" Hep recoils heavily once their hat is off. Sapnap almost bashes his head against the wall as he snaps to sit up. "This is weird." It's easy to see why when they blink over at him.

"Is-is that a third eye?" He asks more out of shock than anything else.

The entire eye is white with flakes of every color imaginable reflecting from the light. Opalescent. Iridescent. Prismatic. It's mesmerizing. It fits them in a way he never would have thought of himself.

"I wouldn't know. I can't see it but that would explain it. It's not too much of an eye sore for you, is it?"

Hep puts on a good poker face of confidence but it's dulled by the way they squint all three of their eyes. Their voice lacking its normal bravado and banter. If they want to talk about it later, they will. Maybe they'll talk about Sapnap's outburst too. But that was to be saved for a different time.

"I believe the correct term to describe your third eye would be 'absolute eye candy'." Sapnap tells them as he tugs at the knot in his headband. "Truly stunning to behold. But it seems to be causing you a bit of an eye sore. Allow me to help you with that, my Crown."

He presents the ribbon with a slight bow. He'd put on a silk one for a meeting that morning and had been tackled into a hug and a new dimension before he could swap it out. He was grateful for that now. This one didn't even have any dirt on it. He carefully wrapped it around their head and tied a frim yet gentle knot.

"How do I look?" Hep asked.

"Enchanting," Sapnap answered, "an absolute cat's meow."

Hep laughed warmly at the use of the Prowan slang term. It was something that Sapnap only really attempted to do when he was in a good mood. Which ment, "You're not angry anymore."

"I can't be truly angry," he mumbled before taking their hand and pressing a chaste kiss to the knuckles, "not after seeing my kingdom looking like a kicked wolf cub. That's not to say I'm happy with all this. But I'm not angry about it anymore."

"I'll put some of it back. Later. I- we promise."

Sapnap felt the tension from the day finally fall from his shoulders. He held up their hand and pressed a gentle kiss to their palm.

"Thank you. I'll hold you to that."

"For now, mind if I make it up to you?"

Something in that tone of voice set off a bell in the back of his head. Not necessarily a bad bell. But something was up.

"Really? How so?" Sapnap questioned.

The smile Hep gave him was downright cheeky. They lightly ran their hand that wasn't being held up his arm and finished with a brush of their thumb over his collar bone. Their voice was a throaty purr as they explained, "Now that we're hitting on all eight I was thinking we could neck a little, or a lot if you'd like baby. A real looker like you deserves something nice after the flat tire of a day you've had."

Oh. Oh. That's what happens when you combine Karl's affinity for physical affection and Quackity's flirtatious behavior. You get ... well, Sapnap really can't understand exactly what is being offered but the energy alone is going to cause him to combust if it stays like this much longer.

"Ah," Hep pauses at Sapnap's gay panic, "too much?"

All he can do is nod and focus on keeping the burning of his face to a metaphorical sense. Thankfully, Hep leans back a little to give him space to recollect his thoughts.

"How about we just cuddle and see where it goes?" He offers as an olive branch.

"That's what we just offered you!"

... Sapnap doubts that but he doesn't have enough knowledge to dispute it.

So instead he carefully tugs Hep back over and holds them against his chest. They settle in, basking in each other presence, while the sun sets outside the hotel window. Everything wasn't perfect, but they were getting there and that's what mattered the most.

--------

IT'S FINISHED!!! I'VE WORKED FOR SO LONG!!! OH GOD IT'S DONE!!!!

Really though, there were times I doubted that I would get this done and to finish this final part is truly amazing. I hope you all enjoy every word of it!

#karlnapity dimensions #if sad check this tag #ksq dimensions content #ksq dimensions lmao #karlnapity dimensions writing

[cwarscars]

The reinauguration of the Shinra Museum, at long last - and an excuse for some fancy event to be organized since all holograms were finally functional, not to mention properly adapted for the visitors (they had edited Hojo's speech to be more acceptable to the new audience, although Melissa couldn't imagine how they had achieved such feat).

Selected employees from Shinra and high-profile individuals of Midgar's elite had been invited to the occasion; each director was also allowed to bring family or a plus one, considering how they were also part of the glory of that evening. Heidegger did not need to share his list of next of kin for the secretary to call them - by now, Melissa knew their numbers by heart; but the cold indifference of his youngest daughter and the disdain of his wife were all she got.

Edlyn had confirmed her presence - however, the journalist was trapped up north in the Icicle Inn area, where she had been working from on an article and a storm prevented any planes from taking off. The message she sent over to apologize for her absence was heartfelt (or at least Melissa considered it as such); but the fact that no one would show up for Heidegger made his secretary upset on his behalf.

But the general didn't do pity well - and she did her best to conceal anything from her face that could suggest the idea of feeling sorry for the man. Instead, the secretary took it upon herself to dress up for the occasion, taking the opportunity very seriously and fussing over his look not unlike a proper girlfriend (or wife) would. She muttered time and time again that he just had to look his best - not because of any secret agenda, but because he was the best Shinra had to offer; it was only fair the pictures captured that correctly.

By the time Melissa fixed his company's pin for the fifth time and adjusted his tie to take a step back and look at him, the woman had a smile on her face - a properly pleased one, with soft adoration flowing from her gaze. Despite the words from former colleagues and the firm way he organized his troops - the personal assistant believed him to be the one person with the right qualifications for the job.

The secretary genuinely believed she slept better at night because a man like Heidegger was at the helm of Midgar's defense.

"It looks fine now, sir," she mentioned, despite the fact of having claimed that in a few attempts before, but maybe, just maybe... She was lingering and looking for excuses to justify the closeness, "I'm sure the photographers and guests will be dazzled by your speech tonight - I've seen your notes and I know I will be."

it had been a gut punch - reading the email forwarded to him by his secretary. edlyn's apology about not being able to attend, the kisses at the end of it. he's happy for her at least. happy to have been sent a photo of her cosied up near a fire, a hot chocolate between gloved fingers and a smile on her face. she looked pale though. had she been eating enough? had that idiot boyfriend of hers been ensuring that the heating was always on whilst there? - because heidegger had been that way before and he knew how bloody cold it could get!

needless to say, he'd typed up a response in haste - something less formal than his usual emails and with everything finding it's way through a system shared by his secretary, there'd be no doubt that she'd have probably seen his response, too.

Dearest Edlyn,

I understand - stay safe up there and don't go any further than the village. Tell your idiot boyfriend to look after you properly and next time you have a hot chocolate, remember, it's a handful of marshmallows and a sprinkle of chocolate dust. Do you remember when I would make you and your sister "dad's super special, mega chocolate hot chocolate"? I miss you both. When you're free, come and see me.

With love,

dad. x

it had been a while since he'd sent that email - a while since he'd seen his girls but regardless, he'd have to go. no zhara in sight to be his reluctant plus one, no friend to call on. tonight, he'd be a lone wolf. the third wheel to the president and whomever the blonde decided to bring. there's no lie that he hadn't been particularly excited for the event; a tailored suit tucked to one side in his office, a lazy reluctance to bother changing into it.

she, however, makes a difference. her enthusiasm infectious - the way that she'd cooed him into changing. complimented the form he takes when fitted in a fine suit. the black cotton of his shirt a fit that has his muscles defined, the blood red of his tie (a subtle nod to lust). her adjustments don't go unnoticed either, the dawdle of her fingers on his clothes (the glances he catches, and the ones he pretends not to).

and she looks so damn good; she'd look even better on his arm. the cut of her dress, the sly hint as to what's beneath it. her hair and make-up immaculate (though in truth, he'd love to see how she looked without it - the morning after).

"hm, oh melissa-" it's easy to stand still within her grasp, to crave those fingers along the silk of his tie "you're better to me than my own wife." and though the words are spoken between a smile, a small laugh alongside them - they both know he's not joking. they both know that, in truth, the tension remains. that night in the elevator, the longing looks and eager touches.

that night in the hotel.

the night he'd believed that they really would cross the line - that he'd have her in his room and then all caution would be thrown to the wind. she'd left him that night a lonely man, a man with nought but her on his mind and he's sure - sure, she knew it. sure she knew that he'd be going to bed not alone but with the idea of her in his head. gods, she's brilliant, he thinks.

"if only-" he purrs "if only you were the one accompanying me every night" his words are a taboo that he really ought not to speak, his hands a further curse when one holds the back of fingers against her cheek. a look of honey on honey, eyes that don't want to look away. "or even better-" he flirts "we could stay here." a lean forth, a dare that says 'kiss me', a look that practically begs it. unfortunately for both, he can see the line - he can see himself crossing it. and with that, he pulls away. flashes her the briefest smile before he's turning attention to the door.

"well-" a clear of his throat "we best go-"

#(answered) #(ic) #the TENSION

[dear-mrs-otome]

Since you like music, what's the first album you've ever bought and what's your favorite album of all time?

Also, do you have an all time favorite artist and favorite song?

Oh my goddd Nonny you're really trying to make me out just how much of a fossil I am aren't you? I'm actually fuzzy on the FIRST album I ever bought because I have bought so many in my life...but one of the earliest ones that stands out has an amusing, back-in-my-day story for you.

When I was in college, you still had to buy physical CDs for the most part to listen to music. Buying or listening digitally still wasn't much of a thing. The town I went to college in was pretty small, and if you wanted music there was two options - there WAS a small local record store, and there was a Wal-Mart. Now, this was also back when Wal-Mart only sold censored copies of albums - radio-edited, clean versions that labels were forced to make specifically for them because they had that much buying clout and their policies demanded it.

But I wanted Rage Against the Machine. (I forget the exact album, I think I was collecting a back catalogue so I want to say it was Evil Empire)

Do you have any idea how deflating the idea of buying a toothless, censored version of Rage Against the Machine at a Wal-Mart was??? It felt like missing the entire point of the album. Needless to say, I had the small town record store special order it, the owner looked at me like I was nuts because I wasn't asking for whatever country artist was hot at the time, and a month or so later I finally got to toddle on back to my dorms with the CD. All its rage still intact.

My favorite album of all time is still Jeff Buckley's Grace. If I had to be exiled to a desert island with just one, that would be it. Between the songwriting (those lyrics!) and his voice and the sheer talent, I never get tired of it.

Favorite artist is so hard, why do you do this to me? I could cheat and say Jeff again because it's true, but also in terms of nostalgic but I keep coming back to them? AFI perhaps, or Dashboard Confessional. I have so many life memories tied to those bands and the times I have seen them in concert and the people I was with, it makes me remember all of them every time I dial them up. Pearl Jam was also super formative...although I never got to see them play live when I was younger, I actually was gifted tickets and just got to see them last month!! Bucket list checked off. If I had to pick a newer artist, I think I would say London Grammar. Hannah Reid's voice just punches me in the gut every time I hear her, in the best of ways.

Favorite song? Gonna be cheesy AND share a tidbit: My wedding song.

Sorry this turned out so long Nonny, thank you for letting me blather <3

Ask me anything!

#mrs o talks #mrs o overshares #this post probably reads like a foreign language to the younguns

[multifanimagines34]

Diner Dinner Fiasco

(Set in A Small Town AU for The Umbrella Academy)

*Notes

>Jane is an oc.

>The last names are different. Hargreaves for the Umbrella kids, Hargreeves for the Sparrow kids.

Jane

"Hi love!"

I ran up to Marcus. I just got off my job and he just got off too. I'm so excited! We're having a date tonight at the local diner.

"Hi Love! So, how was work?" He asked.

"Dwight was being a bitch again cuz I didn't apparently comply, but other than that it was fine."

We spent the time walking chatting, oh you know what I mean.

Jayme

I noticed Jane and Marcus chatting? Of course, I listened in.

"So, are you excited for our date?" Janes honey-like voice flows out.

"Yeah! Of course!" Marcus kisses her nose.

They arrived at the diner.

Jane

"Welcome to Sax's! What can I get-oh. Hi guys." Sloane's voice ranged from happy to why-am-i-here. She lazily took our orders and ran off.

After a few minutes of talking, the food comes. A heavenly spaghetti and carbonara graced our mortal tables.

After we finish, I leave Sloane a tip and a note saying "Wash the dishes you jerk!"

When we walked out well, let's just say chaos happened.

Jayme

I run up to Jane and Marcus and I grab Jane and kiss her. To my surprise, she kissed back. I pushed her against a wall until Marcus separates us and punches me.

Marcus

Jayme runs up to Jane and kisses her. The two push back into a wall and kiss for about a minute until I punch Jayme's face.

"What the hell Marcus!?!" Jayme responds with a punch back.

We started to fight.

Sloane

🎵 I'm washing the dishes....I'm wash-🎵

A bang interrupts my singing. I ran out and saw Marcus and Jayme fistfighting and poor Jane trying to separate the two.

"Stop! Please!"

Ben

"So, Chris, how was your day?" I asked the floating cube beside me.

"AE, ae, ae (It was fine.)"

We saw Marcus and Jayme fistfighting outside Sax's. We discreetly backed against a tree and watched the debacle go down.

"Do you see this shit Chris?"

"AE AYE AE AE (YES I DO BWAHAHAHAHA)"

After about a second, Sloane came out and tried to stop the two, but she got thrown down the entryway.

"GO QUEEN JAYME!" We screamed in unison. The trio paused their fight and looked at us two. Needless to say, we bolted.

This is going in the archives for sure!

Fei

"See you next week! " I walked out of the Ice Cream parlor. That. Was Ronda. The most boring woman, even more boring than Sloane.

I was walking home from a meetup with my friend. Whom- I already mentioned, is the most boring person in the world.

Well! Marcus and Jayme are fist fighting. I let out a quick ; "BEAT HIS ASS JAYME!" Before running out of there.

But, wait. Sloane was unconscious? I pulled her body to my house and let her sleep there.

That definitely made my boring day.

Alphonso

I was ALSO working at Sax's when a bang interrupted me. Sloane ran out to

Check, but after a few minutes, she was still not back.

I put down the pan and ran out. I saw Jayme and Marcus fistfighting and Sloane getting dragged by Fei.

I pulled out my "Go Jayme!" Sign out my pocket and press it to the wall.

"WOO! GO JAYME! KICK HIS ASS!" I scream.

Jane

"Stop! STOP! YOU TWO!" I scream and put myself in the middle of the quarreling siblings.

Jayme punches me in the gut.

Marcus punches my face.

The last thing I remember was falling down.

Jayme

Jane put herself in front of us and took many blows until she passed out. I grabbed her and set her frame gently on the floor.

"Call 911 Asshole!" Marcus frantically searched for his phone.

The ambulance arrived after about a minute. Jane was loaded into the back, with me and Marcus watching as it drives to the community hospital.

Well, me and Marcus forgot our cars and just, ran. Ran to the hospital.

After a long ass running session with my brother, we arrived, sweaty at the hospital front.

Marcus rushed into the lobby, seemingly asking a nurse directions.

Marcus

"Nurse! I'm looking for Jane Hargreaves' room!" I screamed at the desk.

"Room 492 sir, relations?"

"FAMILY!" I ran to the elevator. Shit! This thing is too slow. I fumbled with my phone, calling Luther, her older brother.

"Hello-Marcus?" Luther's voice answered. "Uh-Hey it's Marcus. Jane's in the hospital." I responded.

"WHAT? WHERE?" he screamed. "Oh the community hospital." I whispered. "I'll be right there!" He hung up.

After a seemingly long elevator ride, We got to her floor. I rushed down the hall until I got to her room.

She was sleeping in a hospital bed, with seemingly nothing wrong with her. A basket of fruits was at her bedside.

I put down my bookbag and sat down on the stool.

"Jane. I'm sorry about this. This, whole hospital thing. It was my fault, well technically it was Jayme's fault, but I just want you to know that, I love you ok. "

I grasped her hand.

"Oh! Thank goodness you're here!" Luther burst into the room, with a stack of papers and a fruit basket .

Luther

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, Jayme kissed Jane and we got into a fistfight. But she got caught in the fire." Marcus' voice was small, with a sad tone in the mix.

"What?" I picked him up and pressed him to the wall. I stared intently into his eyes.

"We hurt her." He confessed.

"You did what?" I asserted.

"Well you can see the bruises Luther!" He pointed at the bruises on Jane's face.

"YES I CAN SEE IT DUMBASS!" I growled.

"Ok, let's let go of the fight boys. " The doctor walks in.

"May I ask the relations to Ms. Reyes?

"Brother"

"Boyfriend"

"Ok uh, Mr Boyfriend, can you leave us for a moment?"

Marcus walked out, disgruntled.

"Mr. Hargreaves, your sister broke a rib, but the doctors have already fixed it. Ms Hargreaves should be awake tomorrow."

The doctor assured.

Marcus ushered in after the doctor left. "Can we continue this conversation later? I'm tired." I pick up the papers and run out the door.

Marcus

"So, I'm going to tell you about my crazy work story..."

And I just blabbed into the night.

#umbrella acedmy #x oc #marcus hargreeves #tua jayme #tua fic

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Today is June 14, 2022.

I wish I was writing under better circumstances. I wish I had only positive news. But for all the good happening to me right now, there's something bad that I need to get off my chest.

When I was in high school, I had a relatively small group of close friends. I am still friends with some of them, others have gone away over the years. One disappeared and came back. For anonymity's sake, let's call her "Jen". Jen moved away after high school and lived in the western part of the US for a few years, but within the same time frame that I moved to the small town that I did, she happened to also move to this town. I moved here due to rising housing costs in my mom's area and because I actually have some family out here.

Jen got engaged at some point, I don't remember when, I just remember seeing the post on Facebook. It's been a couple years now, and this is probably partly due to Covid. Anyway, one of my step-brothers is their roommate (he used to live with my brother). Last week, he sent me a text asking if I wanted to go shopping with him. I said "sure, but I need to be home around 6ish to start making dinner"- this was at 4p.

Come to find out, Jen is getting married on Thursday. I figured he was invited because they all lived together and it might be awkward if he wasn't invited. I went with him to pick out shirts to wear to the wedding. I had no issue going with him, but I was more than a little surprised to find out from him that she's getting married so soon. He sounded like he had just found out, but I don't think he had.

Unfortunately I spent the whole trip listening to their wedding playlist, which was....not very good. I had to hear all about the wedding and the plans with that. I've been feeling rather insecure listening to others talk about marriage for months, that's why I've been off of Facebook. I know it probably makes me a shitty person and a shittier friend, but I really am just tired of hearing about it and then wondering "When will it be my turn?"

After that excursion, we had to go to my stepmom's house. We were talking about stuff and she asked me how it was going out with my step-brother, because she knows he wears me out mentally. I was telling her about everything happening, and how I was surprised to find out that Jen was getting married, and her response was "Oh yeah I forget you two know each other!" She started telling me about the wedding and how they've got it set up. My family was invited, and they've known about this wedding for weeks or possibly even months. My family, who have known Jen maybe a year now, got invited to her wedding. And I've known her more than a decade and didn't get invited.

Needless to say, I am shocked. I'm confused. I'm hurt. Most of all, I feel so betrayed. How long has this been set in motion? Why didn't my family say something? I just don't know anymore. I guess I need better friends. Even though I've been off of Facebook, I'm debating deleting Jen and blocking her. My boyfriend absolutely agrees with me that it isn't right and it doesn't make sense. He told me "That's fine, we won't invite them to ours either." I know it's petty, but it was like a punch to the gut to find that out and to watch my family act like it's not somehow super fucked up that this is happening. I've been very short-tempered with everyone lately and this whole stupid, confusing situation is why.

I am still trying to figure out how to navigate this situation. I don't feel like I can trust the people I used to be able to. I don't know what to say or how to feel. I don't even know if I'm being rational. I feel like an asshole for being this upset. But I still just can't help but feel hurt. I just don't know anymore, Charlie.

Your friend, with love, as always, Ann

#dear charlie #Ann