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dycefic · 1 year

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The Hearthstone God

[The sequel to the God of Prophecy, and the Serpent God of Protection]

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Fire is out of fashion, in this new age.

Some of my kind have found new homes, new names, in factories or forges, in the hearts of wildfires or crystals or volcanoes.

Most of us are simply forgotten.

I was a fire god, once. A god of gathering, a god of communion, a god of song and story. But there are no hearthstones now. No fires around which families gather to eat and talk and tell stories.

I am lucky. I am tied to a great flat stone near a lake. A lake that has survived all the wild exuberance of men, when they learned to change the world around them. Once, this was a place where travellers stopped to rest. At first they travelled on their feet, or on half-wild horses. Then there were carts, and a road. Much later, cars drove down the road. The road was paved.

But some things do not change. People need clean water to drink, and the spring here is good. They need to rest, when they are weary. And even now, when they come to camp in nylon tents, to fish in the lake, or to hunt the ducks, or drive camper-vans to the flat place, their ancient instincts wake, and they turn to fire once more. They light new fires atop my stone, so flat and safe, from which no log will roll to set the woods afire.

Not so many come now. Camping is less popular these days. But some still come. Some still light their fires, and settle around my stone, and talk, or listen to music, or tell stories. So I survive, just barely, on the edges of belief.

I feel it, when things begin to change. Something is happening. Something is drawing old gods back. Not the great ones, risen beyond mortal understanding, but the oldest gods, the small gods, those who rose when humankind were still learning what they were.

Far to the west of me, a god even more ancient than I wakes, and begins to hunt again. I remember the stories that were once told of that old serpent, and tell them over to myself in the long fireless nights.

A god of prophecy, not of this land, settles south and west, and I remember tales of ancient ravens, their wisdom and their guile and their sharp, sharp eyes. There was a raven clan once, who passed this way in the days of skin garments and stone tools, but I have forgotten their name. I only remember the symbol they wore, the black bird with its spread wings, marked in charcoal or charring on wooden talismans or leather garments.

I wait, to see who will awaken next.

To my great surprise, it is me.

The people who come this time aren’t like the campers. They come at night, a ragged family group with few blood ties between them, with a single tent and few possessions carried on devices I haven’t seen before. Bicycles, they’re called, slung over with bags the way ponies used to be. They come at night, and hide when cars pass on the road.

They light a fire on my stone, with wood scavenged from the forest, and huddle around its warmth. They don’t speak much, not at first, but they say enough. They have no home, I learn. They are travellers of a kind I have not known before, who are allowed to stop nowhere, but have no goal but a place to rest. They are thin, and worn, and so tired. So very tired.

They need a hearth.

I am only a weak shadow of a god, now, who once recorded the songs and stories of a thousand generations in my ancient stone, but I am still a god of fire. Their fire burns slow, their little fuel lasting well. The food they heat over it sustains them better. The water of that spring, my spring, puts a little life back in them. This stone has lain in this place since great monsters walked this world, since before humans spoke words to one another, and I came into being with the first fire that burned on it. I am old, old, and though weak, I am not powerless.

They stay.

I cannot speak to them. I am old, and weak, and they do not believe. But slowly, with the power of the fires they build every night, with the tiny offerings of scraps of food spilled into the flames, with their growing confidence in the safety of this place, I am able to do more. I give them dreams and they find the cave not far away, where they can hide. They dream of fish, and begin to try to catch some. A woman remembers that some of the local plants are safe to eat, when I slowly wake a long-forgotten memory of a camping trip from her childhood.

And then a child, a strange, quiet child who rarely speaks, a child without mother or father, in the care of an older brother who is exhausted to the very edge of death but cannot give up while she needs him… that child begins to hear.

She sits on my stone, sometimes for hours, not moving or speaking. It worries the others, but at least she is quiet, at least she is no trouble, and they are beginning to associate their hearth with safety. So they let her sit.

She is *listening*. She is listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of the forest, to the wind blowing. And because she is listening, where no-one else has listened for so long, I sing to her. I sing to her the songs of thousands of years. From the wordless music of the earliest people, who sang what was in their hearts without words, to the songs I have learned from the fishermen with their radios and bluetooth speakers.

I do not know if she hears me, for some time. But then, one night, while they sit around their fire and eat food the oldest have almost certainly stolen, she sings one of my songs. “In a cavern… on a canyon… excavating for a mine…” she sings in a small voice. The others are startled, confused, for she has not spoken aloud since some bad thing they do not name happened, but one of the older ones knows the song and sings with her.

I have always liked ‘Clementine’. It’s been popular with campers for a long time.

The next day, while she sits on my stone, she sings along to one of the wordless songs the Raven People whose name I no longer remember once sang. It is a lullaby, a soft croon to soothe an infant, passed from mother to mother, and she seems to take pleasure in it.

She can hear me. She can even answer me, as the voice driven away by pain and fear begins to return. And so I grow stronger still. Strong enough to make the raven sign on the stone, one day, in the ashes of the fire of the night before.

She takes a half burned stick, and draws the sign on the stone. Pleased, I show her another sign, a leaping fish. She draws that too.

Soon, I need not shift the ashes. I can show her the pictures in her mind, and she draws them. She draws the wheel of a cart, and into her heart I whisper the stories the travellers in covered wagons once told over my stone. She draws a fish, and I make her laugh silently with the jests of fishermen who boast of fish who escaped them. She draws a horse, and I tell her about the wild horses who once drank at this lake, about the men and women who captured and tamed them and rode them through the forest when it was far greater than it is now. She draws a long-toothed cat, and I show her the great cat that once slept on my stone, and denned in the cave where her new found family sleep.

One night, when all the others are asleep and my fire has burned down to coals, she creeps back to the stone and looks into the coals. “Who are you?” she asks. “Are you real?”

She is afraid that the voice in her mind is the voice of madness, a lie created by a mind that does not work like other minds, that has endured great hardship. I do not want this child to be afraid. To instill fear runs counter to my very nature, save in whoever might threaten those my hearth protects.

I am a god of the hearth. I am a god of food, and communication, and peace, and safety. I am all the things that fire used to mean, before humans learned again to fear the thing they had tamed. I do not often take a form, for fire is my form, but for her I must try.

There was a wise woman once, who knew me, whose clan visited this lake several times every year. I watched her grow up, and grow old. I watched her learn of the god of the fire stone, and I watched her teach others. She slept beside me as a child, and as a woman. She sang her children to sleep beside me, and her grandchildren, and dozed beside me as an old, old woman. To her, I was represented by a sign of a flame in an oval, a fire and a stone.

I build a likeness of her out of the light of the coals and the shadows of smoke, a child with straight dark hair and a simple tunic, and in lines of light I draw the sign of the fire and the stone on the outlined chest. “I am the fire,” I tell her, “and the stone. I am all the fires that have ever burned here, all the stories told, all the songs sung, all the meals eaten. I am the traveler’s hearth, and the rest for the weary, and this is my place.”

“Piedra de fuego,” she says, tracing the symbol with her finger in the air. “The fire stone.”

“Yes. I am the god of this place.”

She frowns at this. “My brother says that God is in the sky.”

“Many gods are in the sky.” I cannot continue to hold the form of the girl, but the coals shift to make my sign. “I am not. I am here. I have always been here, since the first people built a fire on my stone, and warmed themselves.”

She nods slowly. “You are… a small god,” she says thoughtfully. “A place god. Like in movies.”

“Yes.” I’ve heard of movies, which are a new way of telling old, old stories. “Old places, important places, often have gods. And gods who are forgotten return to their old places and wait, until someone believes again.”

“Will you protect us?” she asks. “When the police come, to tell us to move on?”

“I am not strong,” I tell her sadly. “I cannot make men go away from here, if they are dangerous, or even call game here for you as I once did. But what I can do, I will do.”

She sits watching the coals for a long time, thinking. “Can we make you stronger?”

I think too, and she waits patiently. “You have already made me stronger. You listened. You believed. If you can convince the others to believe, that will make me stronger still.”

She sighed. “They don’t believe in anything, anymore. Not good things.”

It is a sad thing, that she knows that. They’ve been trying to hide it from her. “Then,” I tell her, “that means there is a place in their hearts that is ready for me. I am not hope. I am not a happy ending. I am not a god in the sky. I am a stone, and a fire, and a song. I am *real*. They can believe in what is real.”

The next night, she asks for a story, and one of the adults tells her an old fairy-tale from a country far away.

The next night, again, she asks for a story, and another adult tells a funny story about his childhood.

On the third night, she asks her brother to tell her a story. He tries, but he is so tired - not physically, but emotionally - that he runs out of words. So she lays her hand on his arm and offers to tell him a story, instead.

And she tells them all a story about a stone near a lake, flat and strong, that people wearing uncured skins and carrying flint weapons built a fire on. She tells of centuries passing, of people coming to the lake on their feet, on horses, in carts and wagons, in cars and motor-homes. Of thousands of years of fires, of people gathered around them, of the great continuity of humanity, and the Piedra De Fuego that has lain in this place since time began, listening to the stories and the songs and the voices of people long gone. Somewhere in the stone, she says, laying her hand on it, all those stories are remembered. All those songs are still sung. And it will remember us too.

I don’t know if it will work. But I was right. People need to believe in something. They need something to hold onto, when times are hard, when the ties of community and family are broken and they feel alone. And a stone thousands of years old, and a fire endlessly renewed on that stone, always new… that is real. They touch me, and think of those who came before, of thousands of years of history meeting them in this place, and they feel less alone.

It’s not much, not yet. But it is something. My nature, my existence, as explained to them by my small, strange priestess, is a slender lifeline flung to those who are adrift, a tiny certainty in a world they do not trust. And the more they believe in that lifeline, that certainty, then the more they believe in me. I *am* growing stronger.

When the police come, I will not be able to make them leave… but I think I am strong enough now to hide my people from unkind eyes. And if I can do that, then their faith will grow.

Tonight, three more people come. A mother and two children, weary and beaten down with hardship. My people welcome them, give them fish and greens grown by the lake, speak kindly to them. And when they have eaten, my little priestess sits between the two children and tells them a story of a stone, and a fire, and thousands of years of stories and songs, and she sings a wordless lullaby six thousand years forgotten, but living again in a child who draws the sign of the Raven in the dirt while she sings, and the sign of the fire on the stone.

And I grow a little stronger.

#short fiction #original story #i aten't dead #the old gods #small gods #household gods #forgotten gods who do not forget

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alittlebitofloveliness · 24 days

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In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

#the outsiders #steve randle #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #two bit mathews #sodapop curtis #lovelythoughts

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 months

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𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥

↳ summary: everyone knew you loved your lazy sundays. but that didn't stop them from bothering you

↳ warnings: mentions of fights and ponyboy getting jumped. nothing serious

↳ notes: could be interpreted as platonic or romantic with whoever you like. just some silly times

↳ song: we're gonna move—elvis presley

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Sundays at the Curtis household were normally calm.

Maybe it was because that was the day before school would start up again for Ponyboy— it used to be that way for both him and Sodapop until his big brother dropped out —or maybe it was because that was the lords day; at least according to the bible. Whatever the case, you knew you could always rely on an unlocked door and comfy couch awaiting you each time you jumped the chain link fence in their front yard. Just as long as it was Sunday.

So, understandably, you were peeved when Steve Randal and Two-Bit had come bursting through the front door looking for a fight.

"Come on man!" Two-Bit, otherwise known as Keith Matthews by his mother and kid sister, but only by his mother and kid sister, was currently whining your name in a way that he would only do if he wanted something. "Those soc's deserve it for what they did to Pony yesterday!"

Warm sunlight from the clear afternoon day peaked through the window panes behind you, lighting up each and every crevice in the front room of the house. A great black and white picture show was running on the TV, the likes of which had captured your attention for most of the day as you lay on Darry Curtis' couch, only ever moving to help out with chores when asked by him or Soda.

You scowled from your spot on that same trashy floral couch as before, flipping Two-Bit off quick enough so that Darry didn't see you. Even though he was in the other room working on dishes with Soda, you knew he would be able to tell. He was magic in a way like that. Annoyingly magic.

"What's with the shake up?" Steve questioned through the cigarette in his mouth, looking down at you from his nose. "Just last week you were itching for a rumble, and now all you want to do is sit and watch TV like some bum?"

"Wrong. Now all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch cartoons like some bum." You corrected him with a bit of snark in your tone, knowing that he hated that sort of thing. You saw Two-Bit's lips quirk up in a smile from the corner of your eye, reminding you temporarily of the shared love of cartoons that the two of you held.

"It's Sunday." Soda strolled in from the other room with a damp rag in his hands, tossing it down on the couch cushions as he went to clap Steve on the back—the way he always did when he saw his best friend. "You know they like their Sundays, guys."

"Screw their Sundays." Steve scoffed without any real malice behind the action. "Dally's on his way over with Johnny right now to meet us before the fight. We just wanted to come and get you before they got here."

With a halfhearted groan you let your head hit the back of the couch. If Dallas was coming over, you knew that the gangs minds had already been made up. Dally could be awfully convincing when he wanted to get his way, and that was more often than not. Really there was no sense in arguing now, but sometimes you had less sense then you'd like to admit.

"I'll tell Darry ya'll are gonna start up a fight." You said in a last ditch effort to keep your lovely spot on the warm couch. You were just met with knowing smiles.

"Awh you know he'd let us go if we promised to not get anymore blood on his floor comin' home." Two-Bit's smile widened, and you knew that he could tell they'd worn you down. That's how it always went when they wanted to fight during an off day for you, and you should be more used to it by now.

With the beginnings of a slow chew on your bottom lip, you mulled it over. Despite what one could think about Darry, that he yelled at his brothers too much or was too hard on Pony, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to get into a fight of his own for one of his brothers, even if he had work the next day. And that was a stone cold fact.

The screen door to the Curtis home squeaked open for the second time in just a few minutes, the entrance giving way to two more figures in dark clothing and greased up hair. One was nursing a cigarette butt while the other swayed side to side in a nervous tick.

"Ready to split?" Dallas Winston let a puff of smoke escape his lips as he grinned, looking around at the small group that had gathered in the living room. Johnny Cade shuffled behind him, and despite the current situation, you made time to send a welcome wave in his direction. He nodded back with a light glint in his eyes.

"Most of us." Soda laughed at Dally's question, ratting you out with a single look in your direction.

"I swear to god man, we do this every time." Dally shook his head as if he'd been expecting this. He looked at you dead on, almost as if trying to pry an explanation out of you this time. You resisted the urge to scrunch your nose up as he did so.

"Don't worry Dal, we just got 'em on the fence." Two-Bit smiled, and you hated that he was right.

With a sigh, you dusted your lap off before getting up, ignoring the small cheer that came from Soda and Two-Bit as you did so. From behind them Johnny smiled that little smile of his.

Dally even let a small one of his own slip, and you cursed whoever decided to give him such long eyelashes. One wrong downward tilt of his head, and sometimes you felt like he could get you to do whatever he wanted if he just asked.

"I'm coming, but next Sunday if any of you so much as ask me into town, I'll start a fight of my own." You pursed your lips. Another cheer rose between the six of you, and somehow you just knew that next week the exact same thing would happen, just as it always did. Good thing it never really bothered you. Nothing these guys ever do would, even though you'd never admit it to them.

"And just to be clear I want you to know I'm only going because it was Pony that was jumped!" You raised your voice through the pre-celebration, trying to stop the smile breaking out across your face from growing any wider. "If it was any of you idiots, I'd go join the other side!"

Playful boo's broke out as Soda slung an arm around your shoulders. A hand was quick to fly up to your hair with an attempted noogie, but you shook your head wildly enough to hault it.

Leaving the security of the plush couch and the drone of the Curtis' TV, you found yourself walking down the street with Dally's cigarette between your lips, taking a puff of it before handing it back to him. As the white smoke drifted up into the blue sky above, you thought about the people around you, and smiled.

Now you just had to hope you wouldn't ruin yet another shirt with blood.

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mncxbe · 2 months

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Ow heck yeah, just read your announcement and I'm here to request for classic cheating dazai (spicy number 6) 🙇‍♀️ please bless us with your magic fics, thank you so much ily have a great dayyyy

this man is such a red flag I love him♡ ty for requesting sweet nonnie hope you have a wonderful day too

6 — Cheating on their girlfriends with you (TW: cheating)

Dazai's hips halt flush against your ass as he picked up the phone "Hey baby" he said casually, as if he weren't balls deep inside you right now "How was work?"

You could hear his girlfriend's chirpy voice on the other side of the line, telling him every silly little detail about her day and you huffed impatiently, looking over your shoulder to see Dazai's sly grin. The man raised a finger to his lips, signaling you to keep quiet as he experimentally rolled his hips against yours. Kneadind the fat of your ass with his free hand, he then trailed it down to your lower back, deepening your arch– moans slipped from your lips as the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

"Keep it down, bella" he whispered, gathering your hair in a pony tail and hoisting your chest off the mattress. Using it as leverage Dazai picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, ripping choked, breathy moans from you. "Aah fuck– 'samu"

Dazai, love, are you listening to me? Is everything ok?

"Yes, baby, don't worry I'm just a bit tired. Today's mission was pretty hard, but I promise we'll talk when I get home tomorrow" he mused, his eyes glued on the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock.

Oh okay then... I'll let you sleep. Goodnight Osamu, I love you. See you tomorrow

He hung up the phone without saying another word, throwing it on the crumpled sheets next to you. "What, 'samu? Aren't you gonna tell your girl you l-love her too ah shit—?" you taunted the man, earning a harsh slap on your ass. Dazai flipped you onto your back, pushing your thighs flush against your chest, his eyes taking in the sight of your slick cunt. He drew loose circles on your puffy clit with his thumb, relishing the way you writhed and mewled under him. You were so goddamn beautiful and sweet.

"Don't be silly, 'donna" he smiled, bringing his face closer to yours– his hot, ragged breath fanning over your lips as he eagerly slipped back inside you, his tip nudged snug against your sweet spot. When he started moving his thrusts were painfully deep, hungry, desperate even but his gaze held nothing but affection for you "She can go fuck herself, 'donna. You're the only girl I love"

prompt list૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd #bsd smut #dazai bsd #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bungou stray dogs dazai

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dollwrites · 5 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 — 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!suiseki!reader, noise control, finger sucking, king of tsundere himself, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ i didn’t plan on writing this, but i can’t get the idea of kanata shoving his fingers in my mouth out of my head. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“You’re being too loud again.” Kanata was panting out a ragged whisper in your ear, but you could hardly hear it over your own, loud whimpering and the table thump-thumping to the rhythm of his greedy thrusting. he may have been a self-centered lover, a learned selfishness from years of neglect or, perhaps, because he had to steal everything else he’d ever had. but, you’d be damned if you didn’t love the way he stole you, too. “You trying to get me killed?”

there’s a tinge of amusement lacing the sarcasm dripping from his husky voice, but the threat was a very possible outcome if anyone found out that he claimed you like this. quick, needy, disrespectful fucking. against the wall, in a closet, or — like this time — on a table. whenever and wherever Kanata could get his hands on you, usually on the way out after meeting with Iori and picking up his pay. “Shh…”

“K, K! H—harder, oh god, harder!” he was already pounding hard, the legs of the table you’re boosted on to grinding into the floor, leaving skid marks, and he was hilt deep already. his sweatpants shoved down around his thighs, his balls were heavy with need for you, and made a deliciously wet slap due to the way you squelch when he pushes deep. Kanata made you so wet that you couldn’t help but erupt like a geyser when he hit your sweet spots, and thankfully he didn’t mind the mess you always left on him. you knew it’d be the same today, he’d pull the frayed hems of his hoodie down to cover the wide, damp stain that smelled like you on his crotch. his clothes weren’t the only ones that suffered, though. your panties, pulled to one side for the quickest access to your cunt he could get, were soaked, too.

“Shut up,” he grunted, thin brows furrowing close together and teeth grinding when you grasp a handful of lavender locks, skewing his lazy side pony further, and jerking hard. expelling a heavy breath into your neck before pulling back, his head tilted upwards to accommodate your vice, lips parted, amethyst gems sparkling and pupils blown out with lust as he watches you squirm and cry out for him, against his demands to quieten down. “They’ll hear you.”

you couldn’t keep quiet, anyways. you couldn’t stifle your pleasured whines or the way you wanted to scream his name until your voice went hoarse. with your trembling knees dug into his ribs, your manicured nails biting at his shoulder and his scalp, your voice was your last line of defense against the haphazard way he fucked you. you didn’t care about the other boys in the building, the ones that you called your family, the ones that could — at any moment — hear you scream for Kanata and come running to ruin this beautiful, depraved moment with him.

all you cared about in this moment was Kanata, and how fucking good his cock felt inside you.

“Gonna cum!” you yip, your eyes threatening to roll back, toes curling. your knees tighten against his ribs, trying to lock him in place so you could ride out your high, “G—gonna c—!”

Kanata cut your mewling short, his middle and ring finger pushing into your mouth, muffling the sounds. they reach to the back of your throat in an instance, teasing your gag reflex as the rough, calloused pads press down hard on your tongue. your first instinct is to gurgle, eyes widening and flitting to look up at him. he was so close to you, his breath tickling the apples of your cheeks as his thumb anchors itself under your jaw, keeping you from pushing his fingers out as he fucked you into bliss. “Spoiled brat,” he spat, but there was a subtle yet undeniable fondness in his degradation. “I said shut up… You’re just gonna make me shut you up myself?” he moves them in your mouth, back and forth, to the reckless rhythm in which his hips snap to yours, and your eyes start to water as his digit tips prod at the opening of your throat each time, but this new way to keep you quiet had your pussy clenching, clamping down in his cock until he was breathless and struggling to keep his composure. “That’s— it… come on, princess,” the nickname sounded more like an insult coming from him, but it only made you wetter, “just keep… milking me… fuck, suck my fingers, baby.”

you obey, but only to keep as quiet as you could, sealing your glossy pink tiers around his fingers, you tasted the salt in his skin, your moaning turning to muffled vibrations as you struggle to keep your eyes open and on him.

but, you knew he was close and you wanted to see him cum.

his lip twitched, as if he were about to bare his teeth, his eyes glazing and falling out of focus as he becomes solely zeroed in on reaching his peak. his free hand grips tight on your hip, pulling you in to his movements, as the last few, erratic thrusts send you into your own tizzy. Kanata lets out a raspy moan, pushing you back and separating your bodies just in time for him to cum. wrenching his hands away, he uses them to pry your knees off of him, holding them far apart so he can pull out. as soon as he does, with a strangled cry from you, he releases, painting your panties and netherlips, the glaze dripping on to the table under you.

your chest was heaving for a moment, and you stare down at the mess he’s made of you, too, until you notice he’s staring at your face. it was only then that you felt the thin strings of saliva that he’d pulled from your mouth as they dribble on to your chin and leave little, damp patches on your top. you look up at him and smile. it was a half-dick drunk, silly grin, but it was enough to at least soften his gaze with a hint of adoration. “How the hell do I keep ending up here?” he asked in a low voice, pulling away to tuck himself back into his pants.

you sit up, and lean forward to catch him in a tight back hug, nuzzling your face in his shoulders. “Maybe you like me?” you ask, before adding, “I like you.”

Kanata’s silent, but he also doesn’t push you off for several moments, as if he’s deep in thought about something, before he scoffs and mutters, “I just fucked your brains out. You don’t even know what your own name is, much less what you like. You’ll think better of it later.” with that, now he does shrug you off, but he keeps his face partially hidden, trying to conceal the faint pink blush to his cheeks. “I gotta go. You know to clean up before you come out, right?” his eyeline falls to your ruined panties and the puddle of his spunk on the table. Iori would lose his mind if it left a stain, and the last thing Kanata needed was Zen on his ass. you make a face, scrunching your nose at his curt nature, even after doing something so intimate, but nod, and he heads out. you can swear, however, that you hear him murmur under his breath. “See you again… princess.”

#kanata yatonokami x reader #kanata x reader #kanata smut #kanata x you #kanata #kanata yatonokami #kanata yatonokami x you #kanata yatonokami smut #paradox live x you #paradox live smut #paralive smut #paralive x reader #paradox live x reader #paradox live #paralive

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corrodedcoughin · 8 months

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Eddie forgets his mini figs for hellfire. He’s forgotten them before and everybody makes do with whatever they can find in the club room. He thinks it’ll be the same this time accompanied by the usual complaints but ultimate acceptance so they can get on with the game.

What he doesn’t count on is the fact that Erica Sinclair is now a member of the party. And Erica Sinclair is Always Prepared. That night the hellfire club battle a heinous hell spawn (my little pony Peachblossom) as a rag tag group of adventurers (a sylvanian families selection of a family of bears and a rabbit couple dressed in wedding outfits)

It’s the most bloody session yet and the mini figures are quickly replaced by custom woodland animals in homemade tiny clothes

#stranger things #eddie munson #erica sinclair #everyone say thank you Erica #they are ALL saving money for sylvanian families and Erica is their leader #she learns to sew from Eddie though and makes sick little costumes #some are cute some are killer. she needs to have OPTIONS #and so does eddie. he makes his npcs all sorts including but not limited to: a top hat scarves dungarees a mace and a kilt #don’t ask me more because I’ll tell you #oky sorry I am done

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dantakeyoman · 10 months

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𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 | 𝐣. 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞

♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ *𝒐𝒉, (𝒚/𝒏)? 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓. …𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒑𝒐𝒗: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 *

𝐎𝐍𝐄

"Watch it, Steve!" You exclaimed, giving the boy a quick kick to the ankle as you rolled out from under the car you were working on.

He let out a dramatic howl, jumping and clutching his foot like a cartoon.

"Keep goofin' around like that and this car's gon' take my head clean off."

"Ow, (y/n/n)! Watchu got stones in your shoe or somethin'?" Steve smiled, a flicker of pain in his eye.

"Now, c'mon, you two, let's finish this up. I don't know about y'all but I'm tryna get home tonight," Sodapop sighed, rolling out from his side with a tired look.

You, Steve, and Soda all worked at the DX together, and were working on your last car of the day, before Steve started up his usual shenanigans.

"Home? All the things to do on a Friday night and y'all wanna go home? S'enough to make a grown man cry..." Steve gasped dramatically, wiping away some fake tears.

"Not me. I got somewhere I gotta be. So if you would kindly shut your trap, maybe we could get this done," you glared, giving him another kick to the foot before rolling back to your spot.

Steve let out another loud whine, and Soda rolled his eyes, going back to his spot as well.

"You keep that up and you'll cripple 'im," he chuckled.

"Yeah, and maybe then he'll finally sit himself down."

"You said you got somewhere to be..." Steve smirked, his pain seemingly gone as he sat down next to you.

"Got a hot date?"

You scoffed, "Yeah, right. I'm meetin' Johnny at the Dingo."

At the mere mention of Johnny, the two boys let out loud coos, Steve making obnoxious kissing noises.

"Will you two cut it out?!" You exclaimed, embarrassed as you rolled out from your spot again, the flush on your cheeks clear as day, just like the grease on them, too.

"Johnnycake, you can stay at my house if you like. Johnnycake, could you walk me home?" Steve impersonated in your voice, tossing a rag on his head to make his hair look like yours.

"Johnnycake, it's freezing! Lemme get you a jacket," Soda chimed with a smile, throwing on your voice as well.

"I don't know what y'all are talkin' about," you rolled your eyes, standing up and grabbing the rag off Steve's head, using it to clean off your hands.

"You should. Poor Johnnycake's the only person in the world you're nice to," Steve gave you a playful poke in the side as you wiped your face.

"I'm nice to plenty. Pony, Darry, the man at the drugstore-." "Then why ain't you nice to me?" Steve gasped, offended.

"'Cause you don't deserve my kindness," you smirked, dropping the dirty rag bag on his head, which earned you his childish pout.

Soda rolled out with a groan, stretching his arms, "(y/n/n), we're pretty much finished here so you can head out after we close up."

"S'all right if I go on ahead? I really don't wanna be late," you asked, clasping your hands together and giving him your best pleading eyes.

"I don't know..." he shook his head, "I don't wantchu walkin' out there by yourself. You know the Socs have been real wild lately..."

"Relax, Soda," Steve smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "(y/n/n)'s meaner than a wildcat, and can hold 'er own just fine."

Sodapop groaned, wiping his face before looking back to you, "You got your switchblade on ya?"

You nodded, whipping it out your pocket and flicking it open, "Never leave home without it."

Steve smiled, "See?"

"...I guess it wouldn't hurt none. So long as you're careful," Soda caved.

"YES!" You cheered, running over to grab your jacket off the hook.

"Your brother's gonna skin me when he finds out..." he sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh, now that's a hood. Guy's so grease he glides when he walks," Steve chuckled.

Your brother was a little bit older than Darry but they used to buddy around in school all the time.

Your parents were never in the picture much so he took up the mantle of breadwinner in junior high, and works the same job as Darry, and a couple others here and there.

"If he finds out," you grinned, turning to walk out, "I'll see y'all tomorrow. You two have a goodnight, ya hear."

"Yeah, yeah, just go on an' git," Soda rolled his eyes with a smile, waving you off.

"Do 'er one lil' favor and all a sudden she's all smiles," Steve scoffed, also smiling.

"That girl's a head case."

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

'Damn idiots. Don't know what the hell they talkin' 'bout.'

You'd started your trek to the Dingo about 20 minutes ago, and despite leaving the DX early, you were horribly late.

You sighed, roughly rubbing your hands in your pockets to try and gather some warmth in the cold, September air.

Although you were nearly there, the temperatures were beginning to get to you.

'Shoulda known not to take this flimsy jacket. Damn thing's thinner than Dally's patience.'

Letting out a shivering breath, your mind flashed to the image of Johnny, sitting in the drive-in all by his lonesome.

His sad, pleading baby browns staring up at the screen, open and empty seat next to him, collecting dust while waiting for your arrival.

'Dammit!'

Deciding your brisk walking pace wasn't enough, you kicked it into a jog, which slowly, but surely, turned into a full on sprint.

And with the Dingo's sign in sight, you smiled, speeding up even more.

That is, until you were suddenly grabbed by a set of hands.

A ringed set of hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where you goin' in a hurry, grease?" The Soc boy known as Bob sneered, holding you tightly against his sweatered-chest.

"Away from your slimy paws, that's where," you spat, slamming your foot down on his, making him let go of you with a yowl of pain.

But sadly, Socs never travel alone.

In an instead, you were grabbed up by about three other Socs, two grabbing your arms and one taking your switchblade out your pocket.

"You gimme that back or I swear I'll knock in your teeth!" You shouted, your tone venomous and probably flammable if such a thing was possible.

You sharply threw your head to the side, knocking into the nose of the boy holding your right arm.

"Goddammit! The bitch broke my nose!" He shrieked, the boy that took your blade taking his place as the other nursed his poor, bloody sniffer. "This on got a mouth on 'er, don't she? Well, I'm sure we can fix that..." Bob gave you a lidded smirk, his words slurring in a way that made it clear as day that the boy was drunk.

Cracking up his knuckles and winding for a punch, you hardened your look, already prepped and braced for the oncoming beating.

'If this guy don't beat me to death, then (b/n/n) sure will...or even Soda.'

"DON'T YOU TOUCH 'ER!" A familiar voice shouted, that greasy mop of hair you liked so much sprinting out the Dingo and towards you.

"Johnnycake..." you sighed with a smile, relieved.

"Y'all Socs want a fight?! You got one!" Two-Bit added, donning his favorite Mickey Mouse shirt as he ran up right behind Johnny, breaking a beer bottle on the fence next to him.

But suddenly, you were hit with a full force, four ringed punch straight to the mouth, the metal on his hands nearly knocking your jaw off its hinges.

The two holding you let you fall to the floor before they sprinted away from the oncoming crazed dog that was a mad Two-Bit.

And with his running start, Johnny landed his own punch on Bob, with about three times the kick, and sent the Soc tumbling to the ground.

Though the catch was Bob got him as well.

A small gash on his left cheek.

Quickly, Bob scrambled up and scurried away, hopping into the safety of his Mustang and driving away.

With your vision getting clear, you could clearly see Johnny and Two-Bit fussing over you like mothers to an injured baby.

And it didn't help none when you coughed up a bit of blood you swallowed.

"Aw, shit! It looks like it slashed 'er lip real bad! We gotta get 'er to Darry's, quick!" Two exclaimed, throwing one of your arms over his shoulder

"Right," Johnny quickly agreed, grabbing your other arm.

"Don't you worry, (y/n/n). We're gonna get you fixed up just right. Just you hang in there."

Seemed like he was saying that more for his sake than yours.

"Broke one a their noses, y'know," you smirked, looking up at the boys with a bloody grin as hey started running down the street.

You let out a hardy laugh, "Damn thing looks like a bendy straw."

Johnny smiled, giving a quiet chuckle.

Two scoffed, letting a smile crack out the side of his mouth.

"You still got your sense a humor. Glad to see the Socs ain't knock you loopy."

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

"Darry! Soda! It's (y/n/n)! She's hurt bad!" Johnny exclaimed as he and Two-Bit burst into the Curtis house.

A crowd of eyes snapped over to you, and you cursed under your breath as you realized nearly the entire gang was there.

"The hell happened to you, Nails?!" Dallas asked as he caught sight of your face, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he slammed his beer bottle down on the table.

He always called you Nails because you were just like a bag of 'em when you were young.

Still are.

"Same ol', same ol'," you shrugged with a smirk, your head resting on Johnny's shoulder.

"Jesus, get 'er on the couch, quick!" Darry quickly ordered, jumping up from his recliner.

"Soda, go get the medical kit from under the sink!"

"Right!" Soda nodded, hopping off the couch and jogging into the kitchen.

Darry started keeping an emergency kit in the house after a rumble went bad and Steve wouldn't stop bleeding out his arm.

Steve and Dally got up and sat down on the table to give you some room, and Johnny and Two-Bit placed you down on the couch.

"The Socs caught 'er on the way to the Dingo. 'Bout four of 'em," Two panted, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"The guy with all the rings socked 'er good, cut up her lip real bad."

"Ooo, right in the kisser," Steve winced, Darry giving him a rough elbow.

"I got the kit," Soda announced, moving quickly back into the living room and opening it up.

"I told you to wait for me an' Steve to drop you off. But you ain't wanna listen to me. I though you had your blade witchu?" he scolded, his face trying to be angry

But Soda was never an angry guy, and was truly blaming himself for this happening.

"They all grabbed me an' took it, the bastards," you groaned, sleepily plopping your head down on Johnny's lap.

"I can take on a Soc or two, but four was just too many. I'm not Wonder Woman. Though I did break one of their noses, an' Johnnycake knocked Bob silly after he hit me."

You looked up at the boy above you with a thankful nod, Johnny turning away with a shy smile, "It was nothin'."

"Here," Darry handed Johnny a clean rag from the bathroom, "Use that to get up the blood."

The boy nodded, carefully dabbing the cloth on your face as if you were a porcelain doll, subject to crack with even the slightest hint of force.

"I shoulda never let you go by yourself," Soda sighed, raking a guilty hand through his hair.

"Socs think they're so tough jumpin' one of ours with four in their corner. I say we teach 'em a lesson now before they start gettin' too comfortable," Dally firmly stated, standing up as if he was ready to hunt them down right that second.

"I'm with Dally! We're lucky it was just 'er lip. What happens when it's 'er eye? Or 'er arm? Or there are more of 'em? We gotta nip this in the bud!" Steve agreed, standing up as well and crossing his arms.

"I'm sure 'er brother would join us. (b/n/n) would pound 'em into ground beef," Two chimed, his breath now caught and standing upright.

"No way," you shut down, sitting up. "Don't none of y'all dare bring him into this. He's already got enough on his plate with his jobs."

The whole room got quiet at your tone, even Dally tensing slightly.

"We're not wagin' war on the Socs just 'cause I got a lil' split lip," you turned to the Curtis boys, "If y'all an' my brother get caught in the middle of a rumble, him an' Darry are goin' to jail, an' me, Soda, an' Pony are gettin' put in a home."

The quiet turned to silence as the boys realized the weight your words held.

If the three of you got put in a home, there would be no guarantee that you'd stay together, or that you'd ever see the gang again.

"So, just play it cool. No jazz unless they start it, understand?" You cocked a brow.

A couple of grumbles and sucked teeth echoed around the room, but you figured that was about as much as you were gonna get.

"If that's what (y/n/n) wants, then we respect it. No jazz," Darry crossed his arms, further pushing them.

"Whatever," Dally scoffed, roughly tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Fine," Steve sighed, stuffing a fistful of chocolate cake into his mouth as he sat back down on the table.

You turned to Johnny, about to check on him since he'd been so quiet, only to notice the small gash on his cheek.

"Oh, Johnny, you got cut real bad! I'm sorry I didn't notice," you apologized, placing a hand on his cheek and carefully gliding your thumb over the wound.

"It's fine. ...It don't hurt none, honest," he managed to putter out, red as a beet.

But you didn't seem to notice.

"Nonsense. Lemme getchu a rag," you got up, going straight for the bathroom, not noticing the looks that the boys were giving you and Johnny.

"They're in my room, (y/n/n)," Darry smirked, nodding over to the hallway.

"Thanks," you nodded back, going into the hallway and out of earshot.

And once you were, the teasing ensued.

Quiet whoops and coos slipped from the boys as each one gave Johnny their own little nudge.

"You see 'er? She jumped at the chance to take care of poor, ol' Johnnycake," Steve grinned, chocolate all over his teeth.

"Got 'er hook, line, and sinker, man," Dally took a swig of his beer, giving the boy a rough pat on the back.

"Y'all, cut it out, would ya? Don't know what you're talkin' about," Johnny rolled his eyes, pushing their hands off him with a sigh.

"She's crazy about you, kid. You see how she was all caressing' your face? Was like we weren't even here," Two chuckled, gliding his hand over Johnny's cheek just like you did, though Johnny tore his cheek away with a wince.

"Hush up, I think she's comin' back," Darry whispered, the whole group staging themselves as if they were going about business as usual.

"Hey, Johnnycake, come over to the bathroom! I found the rag," you called from the bathroom.

"Comin'!" Johnny called back, standing up to more coos and kissing noises.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Soda smirked.

"Use protection," Dally loudly whispered, turning around on the couch.

Johnny shot them a sharp side eye, turning the corner to be met with your beautiful smile, which immediately washed away everything else.

"Here," you started, wetting the rag as you motioned for him to sit at the edge of the bath tub. "Imma clean out the cut."

He complied, quietly sitting down and turning to leave his cheek open.

As you started tending his wound, pangs of guilt began to bang in your chest at the sight of it.

A part of you felt responsible. If you had just paid more attention like Darry, or had been more capable like Dally, he would've never gotten roped up in your mess.

Him getting hurt was your fault.

"I'm real sorry, Johnnycake," you admitted, a sullen look replacing the smile he loved so much.

"For what? You ain't do nothin' to me," he asked, turning to you.

"I was late, I got jumped, and I gotchu hurt. I ruined our night," you listed, hanging your head.

"None of them things was your fault. Four Socs is a lot for anyone to take on all alone," he assured, placing a comforting hand on yours and giving you his signature doe eyed look, nearly making you melt right there.

"This cut looks a lot worse than it feels, trust me. I'm just glad you're all right."

You smiled up at him through your beautiful lashes, making him flush as you two locked eyes for a quick moment.

"It was funny seein' you pounce on Bob like that," you grinned, folding up the rag and placing it back on the sink.

"Funny?" He scrunched his nose.

"Yeah! The way you jumped you looked like an angry tabby cat, claws an' all," you snickered.

He smiled, looking down at the bathroom floor with that familiar warm feeling buzzing in his chest, "Yeah, I guess I did."

Little did you two know, there was a crowd of boys right outside the door, a glass to the door as they tried to listen in on your conversation.

"Don't understand why he won't just tell 'er how he feels. They've been like this since grade school," Soda sighed, shaking his head

"A packs of cigs says they break before the year's over," Two smirked.

"I'll take that action," Dally smirked back.

"Two says that (y/n/n) breaks first," Soda chimed.

"With their pace they'll break in the next 30 years," Steve scoffed.

"Alright, to bed all of you. Let's give 'em some privacy," Darry smiled, pushing the boys away from the door.

"I think we've had enough excitement for one night."

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

#johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #the outsiders #outsiders #the outsiders x reader #cade x reader #johnnycake #ik some of the words look wonky on pc #it's meant to be read on mobile #so deal w it ig

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laundrybiscuits · 2 years

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“It’s happening,” crows Dustin. “Eddie, it’s happening, it’s happening, she said yes!”

Eddie blinks up at him from the blankets. “Is…this about your little girlfriend, Henderson?” Is there a school dance coming up or something? Wait, it’s the summer, school’s not happening.

In a just world, Eddie Munson would never have to think about high school again; in a just world, Dustin Henderson would not have woken him up by breaking into his trailer at ass o’clock in the morning.

“No, man, Erica! Erica Sinclair! She’s gonna run a My Little Pony game for us!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns over to bury his face in his pillow. “Lock up when you leave,” he says, muffled.

———

He honest-to-god thinks it’s just a weird dream for the next few days. He’s almost completely forgotten about it when Mike corners him at work.

“You have to make her stop,” Mike says.

“Okay, Wheeler, two things. First: who am I making stop what? Second: I’m not making anyone stop anything. Really not my style, and also, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever this is.”

“You’re already involved! We’re all involved! We’re all, like, liable.”

“Right.” Eddie wipes his hands on a rag and ambles over. “Kid, you have got to start giving me some context here. What are we talking about?”

Mike gives him just the absolute bitchiest eyeroll any human being has ever mustered in the history of the world, and sighs noisily. “Erica wants to run a stupid game, and Dustin keeps encouraging her. Tell Erica and Dustin that we play Dungeons and Dragons with like, cool monsters and shit. Not some stupid game about ponies. It’s not even D&D, it’s a whole new stupid system that she’s making us learn.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s—a few things to unpack in that little speech, but Eddie can’t help the delighted grin spreading over his face. “That’s for real? The pony game? Shit, this is going to be the best thing ever. What system is she planning to run the campaign in?”

“Oh my god,” says Mike, and storms out of the garage.

———

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

Eddie wonders how complicated it is to file paperwork for adoption.

“Some of us like D&D,” says Will.

“Yeah, we don’t want your stupid generic whatever. We’re not playing,” Mike snaps.

“That’s not what I said.” Will looks annoyed with Mike, which has been happening a lot lately. Eddie’s glad the kid seems to be growing more of a spine; you can’t just let your tragic heterosexual crushes walk all over you, but that’s the kind of lesson every young gay needs to learn the hard way. “I’m fine with trying something new. I’m just saying, the next campaign after this should be D&D.”

“Sure, what-ever, nerds,” drawls Erica. “We’ll see how you feel after you experience the magic of Ponyland.”

Lucas puts his face in his hands when she says the magic of Ponyland and lets out a pitiful groan.

“Whoo!” cheers Dustin. “Let’s get started!”

———

It takes them a solid two hours to make their characters. Even Eddie, who’s been vaguely aware of GURPS since it was released a couple years ago, is struggling a little to adapt. It’s just been a while since he played anything but D&D, but he’s enjoying the change of pace. He likes this kind of challenge; it’s like figuring out how to play a familiar song in an unfamiliar genre.

Erica is not especially patient with them, but she’s clearly done her prep work, so Eddie thinks they all manage to get through the character creation process more or less the way it’s supposed to be done.

Steve gets back from work right when they’re putting the finishing touches on their characters. The way he blinks all sweetly confused makes Eddie think that Dustin was definitely lying about having permission to play here, and also that Dustin probably has a very troubling stash of keys to all their homes squirreled away somewhere.

“If I may, Lady Sinclair, I’d like to humbly suggest a ten-minute break?” Eddie says, before Steve can decide whether or not to be mad about this whole thing.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up while you still can,” says Erica. “Steve, I hope you got good snacks around here.” She makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the boys trip over themselves to follow her.

“I would die for that child,” says Eddie.

Steve laughs, low and a little tired. “Yeah. Um, me too.”

“So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Henderson didn’t actually clear this with you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “He might’ve said something last week? Sometimes when he’s on a tear, I just kinda let him talk.”

“Y’know, we’re at a pretty good stopping point for today, if you want us to clear out so you can get some rest.” Eddie can see the smudgy shadows under Steve’s eyes from halfway across the room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve peels off his vest. He’s wearing an entire perfectly normal shirt underneath, so there’s no reason for Eddie to hastily avert his eyes like Steve’s doing a damn striptease. “I might go take a nap, though. Gonna trust you not to let them burn down the place, got it?”

Eddie does a silly little salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. No hint of flame shall breach these walls.”

Steve laughs again, a gravelly chuckle, and musses Eddie’s hair on his way to the stairs.

“Why do you have that dumb look on your face,” says Erica suspiciously, standing in the kitchen doorway and clutching the biggest bowl of ice cream Eddie’s seen in his life.

“What look, there’s no look,” says Eddie. “Let’s play some GURPS.”

Edit: now a complete fic on AO3!

#steddie #(barely)#yep it's a new one folks!!#I do not promise that this will have any continuation whatsoever #I've just loved the idea of Erica running a MLP GURPS campaign for ages #and thought it'd be fun to write something up since a lot of my current WIPs don't really involve the kids at all #and also I wanted to write something with waaaay lower stakes than the hanahaki AU #sometimes I am like 'maybe I should space these out to have a consistent flow of content and a buffer' but uhhhh no. that's not happening.#fic: what will today's adventure be

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rastronomicals · 6 months

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8:34 AM EST November 30, 2023:

Kurt Vile - "One Trick Ponies" From the album Ragged Glories (December 2019)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

'15 epic jams from Kurt Vile, Dinosaur Jr., Low, Big Thief, Stephen Malkmus, Ty Segall and more!'

#Kurt Vile #Ragged Glories #One Trick Ponies

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theoutsiderslove · 1 year

Text

Before the Rumble

Darry Curtis x Fem! Reader

Tags: Brief mentions of violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

“Every one of us will be back here before you know it.”

Ponyboy and Sodapop had been talking about it for weeks.

It seemed like every other conversation focused on it. They talked about it at the dinner table, Soda yelled about it from the shower, and Pony would even take breaks from his homework to stop and chatter on.

When Steve and Two-Bit were around, and then all four of them got to going on about it? Then it was really a rousing conversation.

While Darry was looking forward to it the same as they were, he was beginning to get a little annoyed with the constant talk of it. Sure, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence, and it was something they all got excited for.

Darry, however, preferred to wait until a day or two before to begin hyping up for it. There was no sense in being all tense for it when it was still two weeks out.

You, on the other hand, didn’t mind all the bubbly chatter. It made you happy to see them so excited for something.

After all, it wasn’t every day that they had a rumble to look forward to.

Over the last several months, things had been extra heated between the Greasers and the Socs. More and more unprovoked fights, crossing over into territories, and just overall grievance between the two groups had become obvious – and it was time to cool things down a bit.

Rumbles were a decent way for the Socs and Greasers to blow off steam on one another. It was their chance to get in as many swings and kicks as they could without “breaking the rules.”

It would settle things down at least…for now.

Needless to say, the boys were stoked, and now that the night had arrived and the rumble was only a few hours out – they were off the walls.

“Hey! I saw that, Two-Bit,” You barked. “No knives.”

His cheeks flushed pink at being caught shoving his blade into his pocket, but the grin on his face was as Two-Bit as ever.

“I wasn’t gonna use it!” He claimed, but you knew him all too well.

“You know what happens when a knife comes out at a skin fight,” You pointed at him with a knowing finger. “I don’t want to have to sew anyone back together tonight.”

Two-Bit cackled at that, his usual wisecracker of a personality shining brighter than ever. Nonetheless, he obliged to your scolding, removing his switchblade from his pocket and leaving it on the table in front of the couch.

It didn’t dampen his spirits whatsoever. If anything, everyone’s normal behaviors were doubled tonight.

The Curtis home was bustling with activity. The gang was on fire with energy tonight, all of them going through their separate routines to get prepped and ready for the rumble. Dallas was nowhere to be seen, but he usually showed up right when it was time to get going.

They were spread out throughout the house, each of them piping up within the conversation.

“Y’all think the fuzz will show up?” Steve asked from the dining table, where he was playing some card game with Sodapop.

“Nah. I don’t think this is gonna be that kind of rumble,” Soda answered. “A couple of minutes at most.”

Your head popped out from the kitchen at the sound of that. While the women usually didn’t participate in rumbles, you were going to be on clean up duty when they returned to the house later that night. It was important to be sure that there was plenty of first aid, clean rags, and aspirin to fix everybody up…not to mention some kind of bedding so everybody had a place to crash, and towels so everyone could shower.

“Sodapop, do not get too comfortable with that,” You advised. “I also would prefer not to have to bail any of you out of jail.”

“Awh, come on, [Y/N]. You’re just bein’ paranoid.” Ponyboy said from the sofa, where he and Johnny were sitting quietly.

Pony and Johnny didn’t usually say much before a rumble. They were the smallest of the group, and these rumbles were physically much rougher on them than the rest of the gang. Still, they liked to pull their weight like everybody else, and bringing glory to the Greasers meant more than anything.

“Especially you,” You pointed again, but at Pony this time. “It’s one thing bailing Dally out. You’re a different story.”

You couldn’t help but be protective. When you and Darry started dating, you signed on with this gang. Each and every one of them meant something special to you. In some way or another, each of them had helped you out and been there for you in some way. They trusted you the same way you trusted them. It was the least you could do to pay it forward – keep them safe and clean them up afterwards when they weren’t.

Steve turned around in his chair to look at you, a goofy smirk plastered on his face.

“Why? You think Darry’s gonna yell at you if he does?” Steve laughed. “No chance that’ll ever happen.”

You couldn’t help but share a smile. The guys always teased Darry about how he was so serious and rough all the time. But the second you were around or if he was merely even thinking about you, that big man demeanor melted away.

“What will never happen?” Darry asked as he entered the living room, only hearing the second half of the conversation.

Not wanting to argue with the big man in the house, Steve waved him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Steve dismissed, returning to his card game with Soda. “Got any twos?”

Darry scoffed, rolling his eyes at his kid brother’s best pal. The man’s blue-green eyes met yours, a certain shimmer shining over them when he looked at you. He had a small, yet dashing grin on his face – an expression he showed when he was happily, but quietly thinking about you.

A moment was shared between your silent looks. He knew you were nervous, as you usually were before they all went off to go beat up a bunch of rich kids from the other side of town. He was sure that you had already given Pony and Soda the pep talk about getting away if the cops showed up. He was positive that you had already told Two-Bit to empty his pockets of any weapons.

He knew your thought process, and your caring nature for him and his family (both biological and not) made him feel like the most loved guy in the world.

“Hey,” Two-Bit called to Darry, suddenly re-inserting himself to the topic at hand…or the one that was attempted to be left behind. “Speaking of things that’ll never happen, when are you going to buy that poor girl a ring?”

Your smile was wiped clean off your face, and a scowl appeared in its place.

“Keith.” You said boldly and sternly before anyone else could get a word in.

Two-Bit sank into his chair at the usage of his real, government name – a telltale sign that (per usual) he had taken it too far.

That “girl” he was referring to was you, and it was something that he hassled Darry about all the time.

Everyone knew that you and Darry wanted to get married and would get married…eventually. According to Ponyboy, Darry had wanted to ask you to marry him within the first six months that you were together.

But you knew the situation that Darry was in. Their parents were gone, and things hadn’t been so smooth for them in the last few years. It had only been about a year since they had died when you met Darry and now, three years later, on the surface it seemed that your relationship was going nowhere.

But you knew that things weren’t so black and white. Darry on numerous occasions had began to save up some money to buy you a ring and put it aside for a wedding, but it seemed that every time Darry was getting some decent cash saved, one of the boys would get hurt or something urgent around the house would need fixing, and Darry would have no option but to use the money elsewhere.

One time you even suggested to Darry to forget the ring and just have a small courthouse wedding. It was cheap and quick. It wasn’t like you needed a wedding ring or any kind of “real” wedding ceremony. Spending the rest of your life with Darry is what mattered the most, but Darry knew that (even if you wouldn’t admit it) you wanted a real wedding with at least some of the bells and whistles.

Darry was insecure about it. He knew that you were long overdue for a proper proposal. He wondered sometimes why you had stuck around the way you had without any promise of marriage. In many ways, Darry wondered why you were still with him at all – because he knew you deserved so much more than what he could give you.

You didn’t have to pitch in around their house like you did. You didn’t have to treat Sodapop and Ponyboy as if they were your own. You didn’t have to put up with the foul-mouthed, chainsmoking pack of people that you were around on a daily basis. And you surely didn’t have to be the caretaker of the aftermath of a good old-fashioned Greaser brawl.

But you loved Darry, so you did all of that anyway.

In Two-Bit’s defense, pretty much everyone had asked that question at some point…in their own personal style. Whether it was Johnny quietly whispering to Ponyboy or Dallas asking Darry when he was going to “get on with it,” everyone had wondered about it.

It was clear too that everyone was curious for an answer, considering that the entire house had now gone silent. Every pair of eyes in the room was on Darry, which made you feel worse than it did him.

While you were well aware that they had all thought about it, you didn’t like it when they said it out loud.

Darry had enough pressure on himself as it was, you didn’t want more weight to press down at your expense. Darry had gotten used to the guys poking him about this, and he usually knew what to do to change the subject.

“What about you, wise guy? Where’s your girl?” Darry mocked. “Where’s Kathy, huh?”

Believe it or not, Ponyboy was usually the first to jump in to defend Darry…even though he wanted the two of you to get married more than anybody.

“Did Kathy finally get sick of your jokes, Two-Bit?” Pony joked, and the volume in the house began to pick up again.

“Maybe she moved on to a Greaser that can actually make it to noon without getting piss drunk!” Sodapop howled, and now everyone was dogging on Two-Bit instead.

“I’ll have you all know that me and Kathy are doing just fine.” Two-Bit proclaimed, but that only seemed to make everyone mess with him more.

There was a distraction for now, and you jumped on the opportunity to have Darry to yourself for a minute.

“Hey, Darry?” You called calmly, darting your eyes to silently let him know that you wanted to talk privately.

Darry caught your look, and nonchalantly carried himself into the kitchen to avoid disrupting the bickering between Two-Bit and everyone else.

You didn’t try to hide the anxious look on your face once it was just you and Darry. His face morphed into a worried look, but he already knew what your nerves were for.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, just in case.

“Listen…I know you’re always careful but…just be careful.” You asked, smoothing out a wrinkle on his t-shirt.

“Always,” He confirmed. “I don’t think this will be a big rumble.”

You heard what he said and understood, but that didn’t stop you from continuing.

“And keep an eye on Ponyboy and Johnny if you can. I know they’re independent and can handle themselves, but they’re just so much smaller and I don’t want-”

“Hey, hey. I’ve got this,” He smiled in amusement, but appreciated your concern as always. “Every one of us will be back here before you know it.”

There was no sense in fussing over them at this point. They were going to do what they always did…fight for their glory and return victorious.

“Okay,” You swiped a stray hair from his forehead, placing it back with the rest of his greased hair. “Try to avoid the one that bites.”

Darry laughed gently, his memory flashing in remembrance of the Soc from last time that bit Darry so hard that he swore his teeth almost popped through the underside of his hand.

“I’ll try.” He nodded.

You didn’t have much else to say. Darry’s reassurance had comforted you, and you felt a little better about everything.

But Darry still had one thing in the air to clear.

“And…” He sighed, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure that there were no wandering, listening ears. “About the ring – I’m gonna ask you to marry me one day, I swear. I just- things are even tighter than usual right now and-”

“Shh, shh. Stop,” You held a gentle finger to his lips. “I don’t need a ring, and you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“But you deserve to know.” His gaze went even softer, his voice even finding a pillowy tone.

There was a beat. A brief silence. And a kiss.

“I already know.”

Darry had never felt more loved. He didn’t know what kind of stars had aligned and what he had done to deserve such a wholesome, pure love. Whatever it was, he was thankful for it every single day.

Darry stayed with you in the kitchen, sharing soft touches and sweet kisses, occasionally eavesdropping in on the ruckus going on in the living room. For a moment, Darry didn’t even want to go to the rumble. He wanted to stay right here with you, forever if he could’ve.

That was until-

“Dally’s here!” Johnny announced, peeking out the window to see Dallas cruising up the steps.

Dallas’ arrival meant that it was showtime, and that the highlight of the night was about to begin. Dally’s appearance didn’t last long. Just long enough to rally his crew and get to where the rumble was being held. Everybody went scrambling out the front door (but not before Darry stole one more kiss from you), hooting and hollering all the way down the street until they were out of earshot from inside the house.

You knew that they would return much quieter and calmer, the post-adrenaline effect would have long been kicked in by then. But their spirits would be lifted, and there would be some improved tension between the Socs and the Greasers.

It wouldn’t be long before things would get intense again. It was only a matter of time before you would be doing this all over again. That was just how it worked. It wasn’t an easy life. Some days felt harder than others, and some days were unbearable. But even if you had the choice, you wouldn’t change a single thing. As long as you had Darry, you would be fine.

Because you loved him no matter what – rumbles and all.

#darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis x fem! reader #darry curtis x female reader #darry curtis x you #darry curtis x y/n #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis imagines #darry curtis one shot #darry curtis oneshot #darry curtis fanfiction #the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders one shot #the outsiders oneshot #the outsiders fanfiction #theoutsiderslove

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