#"Are those two going to bang now?"

[ramp-it-up]

Anatomy of a Kiss

Summary: You and Logan agree on one thing: you both hate each other. So what happens when you kiss him?

Word count: 4.2 K

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. ONE DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILER AHEAD! Read at your own risk. S MUT! Enemies to lovers; snark to fluff, idiots in love; use of the words stupid, dumb, insipid as insults. Reader's father is either a mobster or a mutant villain, or both; (Reader may or may not be a mutant herself), a couple dark themes and mention of parent death; Reader has Daddy issues; Reader is a thicc girlie; Princess and Old Man as nicknames; there are two slaps; a tipsy kiss; povs switch thorughout the fic. pining; insinuations of masturbation, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise and degredation kink, size kink, creampie, cum play, explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up) voice kink, this Logan is Dom Logan.

A/N: This was in my soul for a couple of weeks, but I don't feel it's all that great. Here goes. Let me know if you like it by reblogging, liking and commenting please. Thank you. ☺️

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The biggest mistake that Logan Howlett ever made in his life was kissing you back.

Because now he was never going to get you out of his system. 

—--

You were celebrating.

Being being voted best small business owner and philanthropist in the city was a big fucking deal. You decided to let your hair down and let go of your famous self-control and discipline for one night.

And now you were tooted on most of a bottle of Moet and Chandon as you walked back to your high rise apartment from the civic center.

It was a perfect night and you stopped and smiled at the moon, feeling sublime. 

Until you heard his voice.

“Keep moving before I throw you over my shoulder and get you inside myself, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes at your body guard, the only thing your father offered you that you didn’t reject.

Because you weren’t stupid. 

Other than sharing his dna, you were not like your father at all, and you divested yourself of everything that had to do with him.

“What about the penthouse? You kept that.”

Your body felt engulfed as if by flames. You were angry, both at the fact that you’d apparently said all that out loud, and at Logan’s audacity.

“Fuck you, Howlett. The apartment is my mother’s. But she died because of my dad and that’s why he wants to “protect” me.”

You wobbled as you did your air quotes, and you could sense Logan ready to spring to catch you if you fell. You recovered quickly, however, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“But he can't seem to do the one thing that will protect me. Get out of the life. He’s an old man, for heaven’s sake!”

Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s not so old.”

You were in full blown argument mode.

“He’s over 70.”

“Like I said, he’s not so old. And you don’t know so much, little girl. Life is not that simple.”

“I am 32 years old, Mr. Howlett. I am not one of those little girls that fawn all over you. I am a woman.”

You straightened up and you knew that your thick body in the black cocktail dress was banging.

Logan’s eyes reflected your body, although he was staring back into yours. He’d taken it all in earlier.

“You are a teeny, tiny little Princess.”

He was fucking infuriating as he smiled down at you like that. The alcohol made you step to him.

“Someone needs to kiss that insipid smirk off your face, Howlett.”

That stupid eyebrow shot up, and your belly flipped.

Slap. You meant slap, but Logan was quicker than your champagne brain.

“I dare you, Princess.”

—-----

After what happened happened, you hightailed it back to your building, the electricity zapping around the elevator as you stared each other down. As soon as the doors opened, you moved as quickly as your tipsy legs would take through your foyer and living room and down the hallway to your bedroom door.

Logan followed you.

“Princess–”

The door slammed in his face, and he stood there for a good five minutes, restraining himself from knocking it down, before he relented and made his way back to his own room. 

He’d confront you tomorrow (later today), when you were sober.

—-

On the other side of the door, you were thinking of packing your bags and moving to South America. You needed a continent between you and Logan. How in the world had you allowed yourself to give in to a drunken urge that manifested the late night thoughts that you’d had for months? 

You were slipping. Bad.

You absolutely could not face him the next day. You leaned against the door, relieved when you heard him leave, and touched your lips. They still felt as if they were swollen from the kiss. 

You were sobering up now, remembering it. But just a few minutes ago that dare was all you needed to immediately lock your lips onto his. 

You also remembered the way he’d pulled away in shock and stared at your mouth for a beat before he grabbed your hair, pulled you close again, and kissed you so good that your toes curled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK! Fuck my life!”

You were losing control. And that was not good. Not good at all.

—

Logan couldn’t get you out of his mind. 

And that pissed him off.

He lay in bed, and thought about how, (if he could die) under penalty of death he would never admit just how often he thought about you.

He’d been glad for the room at your place that came with the job; bunking with Wade and Althea was getting real old, real fast. 

But suddenly this arrangement felt too close for comfort.

You didn’t need to know about the fact that the movie playing behind his closed eyelids during his little shower workouts every night was your sexy smile, or the way your ass filled out your jeans. Especially those black ones.

And when he thought about you wearing those jeans with that wrap around shirt that showcased your tits just right. Well, fuck. He’d have gallons of cum for the shower drain.

Nah, you knowing that would only stroke your ego. Somehow, his mind drifted to the other things of yours that needed stroking.

“Oh, Fuck all!”

He sat up and sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cigar, reason number 634 why you hated him. 

But if you hated him so much, then why did you kiss him tonight?

—---

Why did you do it? You didn’t even like Logan. In fact you hated him.

Right?

You loathed the way he called you Princess, an obvious reminder that you were a trust fund baby, although you were far from a child, and to spite the fact that you were trying to make your own way.

You hated him from the top of his ridiculous thick hair, to the soles of his huge shit-kicker boot clad feet. You hated how tall and how ripped he was, the way his arm veins threaded atop the muscles there and led the way to his thick, calloused fingers that felt so nice against your skin.

You hated the chest hair that poked out from the top of the tacky tank tops and flannel shirts he always wore underneath the ever present leather jacket, and the way his blue jeans showcased the muscles in his thighs. 

And you absolutely NEVER accidentally gazed at his crotch and ascertained that he was packing.

That would be asinine.

And his stupid face. That was the kicker. Logan’s face would be handsome if he didn’t wear that ridiculous smirk all the time on that mouth that might look nice if he was normal. 

The mouth that felt nice against yours. 

That might feel nice against your…

You groaned around your toothbrush and rolled your eyes at yourself, fully sober now after a quick cold shower. But somehow your body was still warm and buzzing.

What the fuck had you done?

— 

Logan didn’t even like you.

You were bossy, irritating, loud. 

Fuck, you were loud, always chattering away to your customers, always smiling and making them feel at home. 

He absolutely loathed the way you were trying to make your own living, despite the fact that your father was loaded. Running a food truck with the best tacos in town drew hundreds of people every day and giving away a portion of your food to the unhoused every night was what irritated Logan the most. 

More people to watch.

He was sure you did it to surround him with more people to hate. He just knew that you liked pushing his buttons. 

You just reveled in being the anti-Logan.

The more he glared, the more you glowed. 

On fucking purpose.

The kicker was you cranking up the karaoke machine on Thursday nights and belting it out to Journey or REO Speedwagon. It was so annoying. 

Especially the way you closed your eyes and swayed to the music during the bridge. The happy look on your face wasn’t beautiful at all, it was simple, and he didn’t memorize every curve of your face because it was a dumb one.

He couldn’t get away, because he had three months left on the security contract your father signed with him.

It was unfortunate, because you just wouldn’t shut up.

Except when his tongue was in your mouth.

No. 

Even then, you made noises. 

Those delicious little moans that vibrated down his spine and made his dick harder with every second. Moans that made him see visions of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Moans that gave him a waking dream of you giving him head, and…

Fuck, now Logan had a raging hard on and could not sleep for the life of him. 

He really did not like you.

—--

Kissing Logan had you in a tailspin. 

You punched your pillow as you tossed and turned in bed and conjured positive thoughts.

You could forget this.

Pretend it never happened.

Convince yourself that he didn’t taste like heaven and hell and the best fucking thing in a long time.

You could forget.

It was fine.

Everything was just fucking fine. 

All you had to do was completely forget the way he made you feel when he slid his tongue into your mouth. It was easy. 

Except you were wet as fuck. 

“Listen, bitch. You are not doing me any favors right now,” you mumbled to your cunt. 

She didn't care. 

Your pussy just continued to clench on air as if to say, “He’s right down the hall. Let’s just go finish what we started.”

You groaned and tried to smother yourself with your pillow.

It didn’t work.

—-

Logan just kept thinking of the way you stared at him between kisses. Lips parted on a gasp, plump and soft, right before he'd slipped his hand on your neck and kissed you again. Now your taste haunted him.

Logan huffed and put his head in his hands. Flashes of the kiss played like a movie in his head. Finally, he stood up and went to his door, ready to settle this once and for all.

When he opened it, there you were, in just a black camisole and panties, and god, did he want you.

But there was your mouth again.

“I fucking hate you.”

The problem with that was, he could smell you. You might be saying that you hated him, but your body was calling him right now. And Logan’s knees were weak at the power of his lust.

When you looked him in the eye, you licked your lips, your eyes dilated, your nipples tightened into stiff peaks, and your pussy weeping for him, Logan knew it was the end of the line of his self-restraint.

You smelled delicious, like your mandarin orange body wash and your wet-for-him cunt. 

He stepped toward you and you slapped his face, leaving him with a grin on his face.

Then you slapped him again.

“You got it out of your system now? That anger?”

He cocked that damned eyebrow at you and moved even closer. 

“Or is it frustration?”

——

You were in trouble now.

Not because you were scared Logan was going to hurt you.

Just the opposite.

Logan dipped his head to smell at your pulse point, body so close, but never touching you. Your arms went to grab his impossible shoulders and that's when his huge paws grabbed your hips, dragging you further into his room as he backed toward his bed.

He was full on nuzzling your neck now, and your eyes were rolling as the tension between you two was finally ebbing.

The words came tumbling out.

“I’m so fucking angry that you get me so frustrated, you ass..”

You were turning your head toward his, wanting his lips again, on his lap now, crotch sat on his unbuttoned jeans, and refusing to move to ignite the fire.

Logan grunted at you.

“I see that. You’re trying to stare me down even though you are leaking all over me.”

Your body clenched and got wetter at the naming of that fact. You were terrified of what might happen next.

Yet you wanted it so badly.

——

Logan couldn’t wait any more.

He removed one hand from gripping the flesh at your hips that he’d fantasized about for months, to trailing up your cheek to your hair to take off your scarf.

His fingers were in your hair again and your eyelids stuttered as you mouth dropped open for air.

That made him so fucking hard. And it made him want to kiss you again.

He had to know.

“What are you here for, Princess?”

——

His sexy whisper would do you in.

For good.

“I don’t know.”

Logan was staring at you like you were the treasure chest at the end of a quest as you tried to remain as still as possible on his lap. It was so hard.

Logan was so hard beneath you.

“Oh? Let’s run it back to earlier when you weren’t letting that big brain of yours get in the way.”

Frustration surged within you and your mouth got reckless.

“Stop yapping and just do it already.”

——-

“There’s my girl,” Logan growled at you as his dick responded to the challenge and his eyes flashed at your tone.

“Always busting my balls, aren’t you? Need to give that smart mouth something else to do.” 

Before you could reply, Logan’s lips covered yours so perfectly that it was like magnetic puzzle pieces. You fit together and locked. 

Logan’s tongue traced your lower lip and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling, gently at first and then nipping more harshly, causing a gasp and enabling entry. His tongue swiped at yours as he dominated you.

You were not going to win this round.

——

You could only whimper and grab his shoulders tighter as he kissed you. For all that was holy, why did his kisses have to be so damn good?

One of your hands ventured into the thick hair you’d dreamt of feeling between your fingertips and pulled as your desire peaked. Then your palms went to his face as he pulled away and you squirmed as you realized what was about to happen. 

“What are you here for, Princess?”

That question again.

That voice. It rumbled straight to your core and Logan wasn’t letting you off the hook. 

Logan wasn’t letting you up off of him. 

The hardness of his metal button and zipper, but mostly him (oh god he was huge) chaffed your thighs as he sealed his lips over yours again and his hand went from your scalp down your neck and back to your hip again, holding you down to feel him.

You finally moved, smearing your wetness all over your panties and his jeans and Jesus, it felt so good.

——

Logan’s eyes took in all of you in your scanty clothing, following your every movement and when his eyes moved down to your damp panties he swallowed audibly. He clenched his jaw with the strain of holding back.

Logan couldn’t deny that he wanted you. His 200 year old heart felt brand new.

“Mmmmph. Here for this feeling Logan.” 

Your voice was the greatest symphony. His stomach clenched when you looked him in the eye.

“I’m here for you.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek with your nose, then whispered a demand in his ear.

“Touch me, Logan.”

Without thinking, but instinctively careful of you, Logan’s claws extended, shredding the sides of your panties and rendering them in pieces. 

“Fuck!”

You gasped as he stood up with you in his retracted grip and threw you on the bed, the scraps of your underwear abandoning you.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, he was so weak for you. He was on his knees at the foot of the bed as he ran his rough hands up and down your legs.

——-

“I’m touching you, now what?”

He spoke to you, but he was looking at the juncture of your thighs, at the well-manicured hair there, all casual, as if he weren’t teasing the hell out of you.

You had something for him.

“If you don’t know what to do, then I’ll show you.”

You reached up and took off your camisole and Logan’s eyes raked upwards and widened at the sight of what you were holding, which was your breast in one hand, as you pinched and rolled your own nipple. Your other hand trailed down your body as your legs fell open to give yourself access to your clit, which you had the nerve to play with in front of Logan’s face. 

——

Now he was the one who was angry.

Logan snarled, then batted your hand away.

“Careful Princess. Don’t poke the Wolverine.”

His hands tightened on your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he was.

———

Logan leaned down, his hot breath ghosting your pussy as he looked up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. 

You couldn’t let the moment get too tender.

“What if the Wolverine wants to poke–”

Logan’s hand covered your mouth, cutting you off at just the moment he licked a long, hot, wet stripe up the center of you and then pursed his lips around your clit to suck at you ruthlessly.

Your smart ass remark was forgotten as a moan bubbled up into your throat. Logan took his hand away once it was clear that you couldn’t talk anymore, or at least that your capacity for sass had diminished. 

You were leaning up on your elbow and watching him feast on you, convulsing with each swipe of his broad tongue and each pull on your clit.

As mesmerized as you were at his skill, you managed to brush his thick dark hair away from his eyes so that he could see properly. You didn’t want anything getting in the way of the best head you’d ever received.

——-

Logan’s hands were now palming the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten; you were practically sitting on his fingers. For him, you tasted even better than you smelled. He couldn’t believe it.

He looked up at you incredulously, watching your breasts moving with each heave of your lungs trying to capture air, and your mouth open to capture it. He met your eyes and frowned at you as he reached down and stroked his pulsing cock.

“What’s wrong?”

“The fucking Cuties you eat all day long. They got you tasting like a fucking orange. ‘S fucking impossible.”

He yanked you closer and buried his face between your legs. You made those cute little noises with every swipe of his tongue, and he licked and sucked until you convulsed in his hands, screaming.

You were still trying to catch your breath before he was on you, licking and suckling your hard and soft breasts.

“Damn,” you murmured as Logan swiped his thick, bulbous head into your entrance and meeting resistance, “You’re so fucking huge Logan.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that phrase, but coming from you it hit different. His chest puffed with pride.

Logn smiled into your neck, inhaling your scent and growling against your skin.

“Don’t be scared, Princess. I’ll make it feel good for you. I should be more worried than you are. I’m gonna split you open, but you are about to shatter me into a thousand pieces.”

He didn't mean to tell you the absolute truth. But he had.

Logan knew there was no coming back from this for him.

——

You shuddered at the words which were breathed over your skin.

Logan trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of your neck the looked you in the eye. It was too much.

You lowered your gaze and he chuckled, making you sigh when he tugged on your lobe with his teeth and started pushing inside you. It was slow, but sensual and somehow still desperate. 

With each increment of himself that he gave you, you felt destroyed, yet you wanted more. You clutched at his chest as you widened your legs for him, as if that would help.

“No one else has ever made me feel this way. Hurts so good, Logan. More. Please?”

The question was, were you just talking about his penis?

——-

You begging him made Logan want to cry as he slipped further inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both shuddered, you at the sensation of such fullness, and him at the way you were so snugly and warmly wrapped around him.

“Fuck! Princess. Should have known you would be hot and tight. But I wasn’t ready.”

Logan wasn’t ready for you at all.

—-

His pupils were completely blown and the look on Logan’s face made you clench down even tighter as he stroked deeper into you. 

“Y-yess, feels so good.” 

You felt like liquid in his arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders as you hitched your thigh around his hips. He ran his hand up your thigh and around to your leg, holding you in place as he began to pound into you harder.

You whispered a confession into his ear.

“I’ve dreamed about this so many times.” 

Logan lifted his head from watching his cock destroy you, his brow arched in surprise. 

“You’ve dreamt about me?” 

You bit your lip and nodded, all of a sudden feeling shy. 

“At night after a tense night between us, I’d go to my room and imagine that you’d follow me to…shut me up.”

Your lashes fanned your face as you smirked.

“Oh yeah?”

Logan swiveled his hips and you gasped. He was lighting you up from the inside.

“Sounds like a cool dream, Princess,” he said, leaning down to your ear.

“But you’re talking far too much in reality.”

And he began snapping his hips at a frenzied pace, causing your back to arch and your mouth to fall open, leaving you moaning until you screamed with your orgasm.

You couldn’t talk; hell you couldn’t even think when he was going like this.

——

At this point, there was no more finesse; Logan was stroking in and out of you, almost completely leaving you and reentering just to feel that sensation again. The way his fat cockhead breached you was like no other feeling in the world.

Your arched back was displaying your breasts to him at a perfect angle. It inspired something within him.

“Look at you Princess. All gorgeous and fucked out and taking this cock for me. All dumb now. Bet you like not having to think so much. Just take it like the good little slut you are for me, yeah?”

His filthy commentary made the coil in your belly snap, and you came like a freight train, squeezing him so much that he had pull out to keep from coming himself.

He kissed you as you could only whimper in protest. Logan felt a warmth blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, if at all, as you lay melted in his arms.

He couldn’t wait to be back inside you.

“Can’t tell you how many times I dreamt about having you under me just… like… this….”

And he slid back home.

“Mmm… those lips down there suck my tip so well, how will these lips do?”

Logan’s thick thumb was in your mouth and you swirled your tongue around it to show him what your mouth could do. He groaned and pried your mouth open with his hand.

“Keep it open and do what I say.”

——-

The band was tightening in your belly again. You knew what was coming and nearly came again when Logan spit into your mouth. The orgasms were blending together now.

“Swallow.”

You did, and Logan thrust into you hard an deep while thrumming your clit. That was all it took for you to cum again and this time, you gushed around him, making a mess on his bed.

He looked down in disbelief and laughed with glee, handling you like a fuck doll to do with as he pleased.

That's when you realized that you loved being used by him.

“Bet ya didn’t dream you’d be such a dirty little slut for me, did ya, Princess?”

——

Logan realized that he was your slut, too. He was lost to your sounds, the sight of your beautiful lust drunk face, and the feeling of your cunt squeezing him with multiple orgasms now.

He started tracing urgent circles on your clit again.

“Look at me.”

That’s when you said the most beautiful words to him.

“So fucking good L-Logan. Cum inside me. Please. ‘M on the pill.”

“Music to… my fucking.. ears….”

——

Logan’s fingers moved to your shoulders, holding you captive as he stroked deeper and harder. His harsh breaths in your ear increased, the most erotic sound in the world.

You clamped down on him and he growled, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, the warm wave of fluid combing and causing a lovely, filthy mess.

It was so satisfying.

And you couldn’t let it lie.

——

He pulled out and stared at the ceiling in disbelief, before looking over at you to find you playing in his cum and licking your fingers, leaning over to give him a taste on your lips.

“What? You tired, Old Man?”

He shook his head and laughed as his cock came back to life.

Kissing you back had been the biggest mistake of his life.

He was never going to get you out of his system.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

-----

You shivered as Logan loomed over you, with that damned eyebrow cocked and that smirk on his face.

“Oh Princess. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Then Logan grabbed you and kissed you again.

——

Reblog if you enjoyed it! 🥰

[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf

[writingstoraes]

Hi lovely i absolutely adore your work! Could i please request a charles x actress!reader fic where charles hard launches their relationship after someone flirts with reader? (i hope this makes sense 😭😭) thank you!!🩷🩷

all mine 🪩

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: tysm for requesting this, anon! i hope you like this hehe fc is hailee steinfeld! and yes ur request makes sense <3 lmk what u guys think!

about: during your first paddock appearance, charles gets wind of someone else being a little too friendly with you.

yourusername

liked by zendaya, florence_pugh, brielarson, and 2,998,221 others

yourusername Finally watching my favorite sport live! Props to the F1 paddock club for the banging champagne 🥂

f1thusiast crazy publicity for the team she's going to be supporting

forzacharles didn't she say shes a merc and ferrari fan? ynoscars Yeah but she's apparently visiting different teams and not just those two

ynlover ATE EVERYONE UP! HAVE FUN QUEEN

spiderverses the main attraction everyone's talking about her

ferrariyn Y/N twt in flames there's too many content so much people are trying to interview her 😭

mercedesamgf1 Thank you for the visit, Y/N! We loved showing you around 🤍

scuderiaferrari Looking forward to your garage tour here at Ferrari ❤️

leclercsyn give me a y/n and charles interaction and then ill forgive you guys for all your slip ups

yourusername added to her instagram story!

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, ynfanbase, and 1,452,009 others

charles_leclerc My love's first grand prix and paddock appearance today and I couldn't be happier. To my biggest fan, best believe I'd never miss a chance to brag about you — and I'm over the moon that I get to start today.

Almost two years together and I'd honestly say that seeing you in the paddock has been something I've been looking forward to ever since. Je t'aime, à l'écran et dans la vraie vie, que tu sois à côté de moi ou loin. I love you, on-screen and in real life, whether you're beside me or far away.

carlossainz55 I knew you'd skip the soft launch and do it your way 🤣

pierregasly I will send you that clip every day lol

mercrbr THIS IS SO FUNNY

yourusername What a shame you weren't at the garage when I toured it 😣

charles_leclerc We'll visit it again later :)

scuderiaferrari Love is in the air indeed! ❤️

landonorris Bro don't be mad but she visited us earlier... afraid you'll quote me on Twitter too 🤣

forzasainzz they will never live this down lmao

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari, zendaya, and 3,001,221 others

yourusername P1 today! Was on the edge of my seat the whole time, but my faith on you never wavered. Truly the happiest when I watch you in your element 🏎️ Couldn't resist not taking the first picture when you showed up on screen.

Love you to bits, my world champ :) Cat's outta the bag now I guess, no more hiding how crazy I am for this man in red (lol)

zendaya Finally!

leclercsyn this is like a dream come true for me

charlieferrari QUEEN SUPPORTING THE KING THATS RIGHT

landonorris Charles just can't stop smiling

charles_leclerc ... Get out

taystan power couple! we love to see it ❤️

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: lmk if anyone wants to be a part of my taglist! as usual this took surprisingly long for me to make lolol requests for charles are open <3 lmk what u guys think!

[soniclozdplove]

When Wukong had invited then to watch him train his apprentice, they hadn't expected the monkey to then take them to a neighboring mountain peak, far enough that they could just barely make out the cliff where Wukong's home resided. The young man Wukong had called his apprentice was already there, leaning casually on Ruyi Jingu Bang as though it were a normal walking stick. The moment he spotted the staff, Tripitaka noticed Wukong's eyes narrow and he frowned.

"Put it away, kid."

"What!?" MK looked at him in shock, seemingly unable to comprehend why his master would tell him to disarm himself, stumbling and nearly falling in his haste, "But how am I supposed to train without the staff!?"

"That's the thing..." Wukong mused in reply, gracefully stepping down from his cloud, which faded away and left Tripitaka and his students to quickly scramble to prevent a not so graceful fall, and putting a paw to his hip, "We aren't training with the staff. You're starting to become too dependent on a magic stick, so this time, we're going without weapons."

"But..." At this, MK looked nervous, "the only times over ever fought without the staff was when..."

Both Wukong and MK visibly flinched at whatever thought the boy's words brought up. After a moment, Wukong let out a deep sigh, placing a paw on his apprentice's shoulder. Giving him a gentle smile as he spoke softly.

"Kid. We don't need to go that far, not today. I was talking about teaching you hand to hand combat with you, as you are, right now. No mystic monkey powers. That can come later, when I know you losing your weapon won't force you into that position."

"But what if I lose control again?" Mk asks, voice sounding small, "What if I hurt you?"

The word 'again left unspoken, but it's hung through the air. Even those who'd never seen whatever it was the two were implying could sense it. Wujing coughed, looking at Tripitaka as is tonask if they should ask. The monk shook his head in reply, they'd agreed when Wukong allowed them to come not to interfere with how Wukong trains his student, plus he himself wanted to see how his most destructive disciple would handle this task.

"Kid." Wukong's voice, if possible, became softer as he poked MK's nose with a claw, "What was the first thing I ever taught you? That very first lesson."

"Um... practice?"

"No, the very first thing I told you. Back when we first met!"

"Um... you were watching me?"

At this Wukong gave his apprentice an annoyed look, clearly not appreciating his humor.

"Kid, I told you that if you could lift my staff, you could use it."

"But now your telling me not to use it!" MK pouted.

"And that wasn't the full quote, what else did I say kid?"

"Umm..." MK tapped his fingers together as he tried to remmember whatbwas seemingly a conversation that happened a long time ago "something about believing in myself?"

At this Wukong gave his apprentice a fond, approving smile, "Even a smidge..."

"Can make all the difference!" MK finished the sentence, realization shining in his eyes, "You said that I should believe in myself because even the smallest amount of belief can have large effects!"

"There you go!" Wukong praised MK, ruffling his hair as he finally got the answer the king had been searching for, "I believe you can do it, so as long as you believe it too, you won't need to worry about losing control!"

"Wait... you believe in me?" MK was laughing, eyes shining in wonder even as he laughed and pushed his mentor's hand away from hair. Tripitaka blinked. Wukong had always seemed the type to be difficult to please, it doesn't surprise him that his student might feel that way. He was about to ask about it when Wukong did something that shocked all of them.

"And just when..." Wukong started before roughly grabbing MK by his face and forcing him to look him in the eyes, serious as he asked, "Have I EVER stopped believing in you, kid?"

"N'rver" Was the muffled reply, which Tripitaka imagined was supposed to be a 'never.' Satisfied, Wukong released his student, spreading his arms out as he stepped back.

"Exactly, I've been telling you from the beginning kid. You're perfect! You're just the only one who doesn't see it."

"Okay, okay." MK conceded to Wukong's enthusiastic point, "So how do we do this?"

"Simple. You are going to try to take me put of this arena I drew, without using the staff!" Wukong explained, pointing his finger up as he seemed to go into a sort of lecture mode, "just like we used to when we first started training! If you manage to make me step even a single foot out of the circle, you win l."

"Okay! What happens if I win?" MK grinned, jumping to his spot at the other end of the rather large circle Wukong had drawn in the dirt.

"I'll uh... think of something." Wukong laughed in turn, "But that's something we can figure out later, for now you gotta get me there first!"

Based on the cheer the student gave, the lack of incentive seemed to make MK even more excited to train, where for others the lack of true incentive may have cause disappointment. Tripitaka smiled, pleased to see that Wukong's found such an enthusiastic student.

"So..." Baije asked as he sized up the two, "Who do you think will win?"

"Wukong." Wujing said without hesitation, "He is the strongest of us, and i don't believe the centuries have served to change that."

Ao Lie giggled into his sleeve, clearly amused.

"I don't know," the dragon prince stated, "We know nothing of Wukong's student and how well trained he is. Who's to say he isn't just as if not more powerful than Wukong?"

Tripitaka considered whether he should tell his students off or not, particularly when Baije began to talk about placing bets, but after some thought he decided to let his students have their fun. It's not often they get to simply relax like they are and he would be a hypocrite himself to tell them off. He was just as curious. Instead he chose to simply settle beneath althea shade of a nearby tree to watch the fight.

The two opponents stood on either side of the makeshift arena, sizing each other up for a good minute. Finally Wukong waved his hand in a a come hither gesture, crouching into a battle stance and locking his arms behind his back, indicating he wasn't going to use his hands during the bout. MK instantly sprang forward, running towards his mentor with speed comparable to Ao Lie's horse form at a full sprint, making the first strike.

Wukong simply ducked the wide swing of his student's fist, turning to avoided the following kick. In retaliation he kicked at MK's side only for the student to block it and try to grab at Wukong's leg to unbalance him.

That earned him a kick in the face as Wukong used his tail as a springboard to jump over MK and then trip him.

It continued on like thay from there, with MK making an attempt to take his mentor down while Wukong either blocked or dodged his attack and gave his own retaliation in turn. MK very nearly managed to sweep Wukong's feet from under him, forcing Wukong to his arm for a moment to keep from falling in the dirt. Trilitaka noted that both MK and Wukong looked particularly proud of thay moment as Wukong made an approving comment before swiftly showing the error in MK's play by using his tail to wrap around MK's ankle and slam him heavily into the dirt in turn. Tripitaka winced, noting the force was enough that had MK been a normal person, his bones would have broken.

"Alright, lesson time!" Wukong called out, putting a halt to the spar and helping MK up, dusting some of the dirt form him, "What went wrong?"

"You slammed me into the dirt." MK coughed out, looking more annoyed at being thrown than injured. At most he seemed a bit winded, Tripitaka noted, but not hurt in any way.

"And how exactly did i do that?" Wukong prompted in return, grinning cheekily at his student as he leaned over him, winking.

"You used your tail to throw me..." MK glared at him, pouting.

"Which you knew I could and would do." Wukong affirmed, "And yet you still forgot to pay attention to where my tail was and got too ahead of yourself, leaving yourself open with big, over the top attacks. When fighting with a staff, you have the reach to make larger sweeps and the ability to extend yourself further, making it so that you have more time in most cases to get yourself to safety after an attack or that you can extend yourself beyond your natural limits with less risk, particularly with the abilities Ruyi Jingu Bang has. With close quartered hand to hand combat, however, you don't have that luxury. You managed to unbalance me for a moment, but I was able to recover quicker than you were able to retreat, leaving you open to attack. You need to be more focused on what I'm doing, every part of me."

Wukong then proceeded to have MK do several katas and walk him through the attack that had tripped him, teaching him how to more quickly recover from that same attack and fixing any flaws he noticed in MK's form. Once satisfied, Wukong called an end to their lesson and the spar resumed. This time around the human's form was smoother and he was better able to keep up with Wukong's moves, managing more strikes that hit than times Wukong would manage to stroke the young man. Tripitaka considered the small break Wukong had in his lesson, how he had noticed a flaw in his student's fighting style and immediately corrected it, and realized he was also giving MK time in the middle of training to catch his breath after being thrown hard enough into the ground to crack the earth.

A kindness from a master to allow his student time to recover even while in the middle of training. Perhaps Wukong being a teacher wasn't as far fetched as he had first believed, if this was the way he conducted his lessons. It was a very hands on sort of training, allowing the student to make their own mistakes and learn form their own experiences, but still guiding them and teaching them along the way. Wukong cared, Tripitaka thought, both about his student's growth and his health and safety.

This continued on well into the afternoon with Wukong stopping the match on occasuons to review a particular exhange the two had until Wukong glanced up at the sun, noting it's position. With a huff, he sprung and closed the distance with MK, their final bout before MK let out a growl of frustration. Tripitaka frowned, confused as the human seemed to flicker a bit and then moved! MK suddenly gained speed, moving faster than Tripitaka thought possible and based on the brief look of shock on Wukong's face he too hadn't expected it. The king quickly recovered, blocking a devastating blow from MK, before pushing his apprentice back with narrow eyes.

"MK!" Wukong called, tail twitching as he unclasped his arms, kneeling at the ready, "I think that's enough."

To the onlookers shock, however, the student did not stop. But rather his form began to flicker going between that of a human and... a monkey? He swung his hand, now an open claw, and managed to strike Wukong in the face, causing the king to stumble back, one foot leaving the arena. In an instant MK froze, as if realizing what he'd done as his eyes, now a golden brown color, widened in horror. Even the onlookers jumped to their feet, Tripitaka letting out a horrified shout of his student's name as he noticed blood.

"M-monkey king!?" The monkey, for the boy had most certainly turned into a monkey in front of them, stuttered, "Oh man... I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to-"

"It okay kid." Wukong was gasping in return as he regained his balance, hand covering the four red lines how adorning his cheek, "Just got too into it is all! Happens to the best of us. Focus and practice will help with it."

"But I hurt you!"

"Kid, it's fine!" Wukong pinned his gaze on his student, stepping forward back into the arena to place his hands on MK's shoulders, "You're young and still growing. There's a lot of new instincts rattling around in there, it's okay! You didn't mean to hurt me and it's just a scratch. I get those from the baby monkies all the time during bath time! I'm the one who should have called for a stop sooner."

"I'm still sorry!" MK sobbed, leaning into Wukong's touch, to which the monkey gently pulled his apprentice into a firm hug.

"I know, kid. I know. And hey, you did good!"

"H-huh?" MK glanced up from where he was huddled into Wukong's arms, seeing Wukong grinning down at him.

"You won, MK. I stepped out of the circle!"

Baije and Wujing's jaws both dropped as they realized Wukong had stepped out of the circle because of that last attack while Ao Lie simply looked smug. MK himself seemed to brighten up as he came to the same conclusion, a grin spreading his face,

"I did, didn't I!" He exclaimed, "So does that mean I get a reward!?"

"We'll figure something out." Wukong reiterated, chuckling at MK's enthusiasm, "But first, you should go get cleaned up. Your covered in dirt and stonk for sweat!"

"Ew!" MK grimaced, "You can't smell that!?"

"Hey, you're the one who smells like that!" Wukong teased in return, flicking him between his eyes, "Get going, kid. I'll meet you at the hotspring."

The boy let out a cheer as he summoned his nimbus cloud and flew off, no doubt to go to the promised bath. Wukong just gave a fond laugh as he shook his head, turning onky to stsrtle a bit, remembering he has company.

"Oh, uh... sorry about that." Wukong scratched the back of his head nervously, "Instincts. I should have noticed MK was getting frustrated sooner."

"He's a monkey?" Tripitaka asked, gazing after whrre the child had gone. Wukong shook his head, gaze falling.

"We're not exactly sure what MK is. We know he's a stone monkey like me, born of the same egg that once hatched me, but not the specifics of how or why he is the way he is. He only recently began to turn into that other form, and usually it's only in times of great distress or frustration. We're still working on learning to control it."

"Control." Tripitaka raised a brow, remembering many a lecture to a much younger Wukong on that very subject.

"I know, I know!" Wukong huffed, "But this is different. MK has no trouble with controlling his temper... msot of the time. But he doesn't have a lot of focus and can sometimes lose control of his abilities if we aren't careful. Add in a self blaming complex and a super scary form he never knew he had being revealed to him in probably the worst way you can imagine, and we get a kid who's scared of himself. I'm trying to fix that!"

"And you're still doing a terrible job at it!" A mocking voice came from above. Tripitaka startled, looking up only to see that the Six-Eared Macaque was lounging in the tree branch above him. The dark monkey flicked his tail before jumping down, landing in front of the king, "Really, Wukong... we've been over this! You need to do better!"

"Macaque!" Wukong's tail immediately puffed up in anger as he growled the other monkeys name.

[baby-yongbok]

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus. 

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -” 

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself. 

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions. 

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair. 

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls. 

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed. 

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.” 

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic. 

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you. 

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you. 

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it. 

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all. 

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in. 

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

[oneforthemunny]

that modern!steddie x reader has been so heavy on my mind since the ask yesterday...

18+ below minors dni.

like steve was your professor and now you're in a throuple. you, him, and his crazy roommate eddie or @/munsterc0ck as you and his 1.2M followers on tiktok knew him as.

you ran into professor harrington at the bar, he was young to be a professor, you had his film class- an elective your advisor said was an enjoyable one. and enjoyable, it was.

you'd had a few amaretto sours, a little bolder than you usually were. your friends were squealing and buzzing with excitement at seeing eddie munson- the guitar hottie on the app- out in public, all curly bangs and tattoos, sitting at the bar in black leather. it was a stark contrast to the khakis and polos that professor harrington wore next to him, still keeping up appearances even in the dingy bar.

your friends snickered, daring you to approach him, ask him for extra credit, and who were you to deny them? deny their cackles and secret recordings for their private snapchat stories. "for the story" was your motto, and a story was sure to follow.

"hi, professor harrington." you let every syllable roll off your tongue in a low purr, a little woozy and wobbly from your drinks.

amber eyes flicked over to you, a sheepish smile on his lips as he greeted you back. "what're you doing here? not doing your film analysis on a friday night?" he jested lightly.

you shook your head, giggling nervously. "nuh-uh, always save those for sunday. 'm a last second kinda girl. don't hold it against me." you rolled your lip between your teeth, biting back a grin at his flustered flush.

"procrastinating can be bad for ya, baby. pretty girl like you should know better." the munsterc0ck spoke up, dark irises that cast down on you in the most delicious way. the rasp in his voice, the tone- so masterful yet casual, it had your thighs clenching.

"yeah," professor harrington added. "you should enjoy the films I assign. want to watch them over and over and over." he grinned when you laughed, a little nasally and wobbly.

"yeah, stevie here puts a lot of thought and care into those movies. very snobby film critic you have." eddie rolled his eyes hard, dramatic, you laughed.

"I do like the movies, professor harrington." you batted your eyes, swiping your drink off the bar, tongue chasing the black straw. you hadn't meant for it to be seductive, but you weren't mad at the way that the two men straightened up, flushing a little.

"yeah? which one's been your favorite?" professor harrington steve pressed, leaning towards you with a dazzling smile that had your tummy flip flopping.

"hmmm," you thought, sipping your syrupy sweet drink, lips twisting around the straw in thought. "coraline is my all time favorite movie, like ever. so that one?"

eddie's grin widened into something primal and dark. the girl he'd been chatting to before glared daggers at you when he turned, his body and attention fully on you. "yeah? you like creepy things like that? wouldn't have ever guessed that from looking at you." eddie smirked.

you shrugged, flirty and bold. "shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. sometimes there’s more than meets the eye." you quoted steve's lecture on inception from weeks before. he beamed with pride. "isn't that right, professor harrington?"

you'd smiled at him so sweetly, he thought he was going to melt into the bar floor. the effects of the alcohol mixed with the blood rushing to his twitching cock, had steve leaning in. "you can call me steve when we're not in the classroom, baby." he growled lowly.

you could feel the heat climbing from your chest and creeping up your neck. his full lashes batting at you, while he patted the barstool between them. "what're you drinkin'? let eddie buy you a drink." steve grinned.

eddie snorted loudly, shaking his head, but flagged down the bartender anyways. the three of you chatted over overpriced cocktails, yelling over the loud blaring speakers that screamed megan thee stallion and y2k classics to keep the energy. you talked about movies, hometowns, roommates (which eddie and steve had been since they got out of high school). they'd went to college at the university, though eddie dropped out his first semester was kicked out you'd later find out. steve got a film studies degree, just to make his dad mad, finished with a minor in business. he went to graduate school for that, to satisfy his dad (you were starting to pick up a pattern), got offered a teaching job after his ta experience while he worked on his doctorate.

"soon he'll be dr. harrington." eddie purred, shoulder rubbing yours while he leaned into your ear. "isn't that fancy sounding?"

"I like the sound of that." you giggled, starry eyed and loose from the liquor. "dr. harrington does sound pretty sexy." you hadn't meant to blurt that out, the playful banter was teetering on the line of teasing all night, and you'd just crashed right over it.

you worried he'd reject you, and you weren't sure how you'd ever pass his class- be able to show your face from the embarrassment.

instead, you found yourself in the back of eddie's camaro, steve's hands roaming your frame while eddie drove, speeding through back roads to get back to their place.

even tipsy your heart hammered, the liquid courage the alcohol brought was draining your system as you sat on your knees, perched at the end of their bed. both men before you, cocks angry and erect while they stroked them- intimidatingly big the both of them. you blinked up at them, rounded pretty eyes that looked oh so adorable to them.

you found yourself, thighs pressed to your chest while steve fucked you, deep, long strokes that had you crying out. eddie hovered above you, letting his cock slip between your lips, gagging your screams and cries of pleasure while you sucked him, letting him spill down your throat.

it was the beginning of something new. something strange. something exciting.

the three of you, a relationship bewilderingly beautiful, thrilling and a little scandalous blossomed to light in steve's bedroom.

[mournivaldisco]

Sanguinius and Horus being entirely normal about each other, a quote post

In roughly chronological order.

(LONG. Apologies for the terrible mobile formatting)

Mortarion’s primarch novel:

The two of them have been sent to find out what Mortarion is up to with his, uh, unconventional methods of compliance.

[Horus] grimaced and placed a hand on the Angel’s shoulder. ‘Our judgement must not be rushed, though. I understand the temptation. Believe me, I feel it too. That, I am convinced, is why our father sent us to meet with Mortarion. We can check each other’s first impulses without causing offence.’

‘You think we can check Mortarion’s too?’

[…]

‘I think it is good that we have our time to think about that before Mortarion arrives.’

Sanguinius smiled. ‘The better to check our first impulses?’

Horus smiled back. ‘I do think it’s best that we greet him calmly, don’t you?’

(No, I don’t know why this sounds like they are going to bang in the meantime.)

Mortarion is pissed off that the two of them in particular are there: Sanguinius and Horus were so close. Mortarion felt a bond with Horus, but he knew it was not as strong as the one that joined Horus to the Angel. He was facing a united front, whether or not the other two would admit it, even to themselves.

He has a point; they are basically finishing each other’s sentences during their cameo in this novel: [Mortarion:] ‘I have nothing to hide.’

‘We don’t mean to imply you do,’ said Horus.

‘It’s not your honesty that concerns us,’ said Sanguinius.

---

The flashback to Melchior in Fear to Tread:

[Sanguinius]: ‘I must content myself with merely being the better warrior.’

‘Don’t make me pluck those wings,’ Horus retorted.

‘Perish the thought!’ said Sanguinius. ‘Without them I’d only be as handsome as you are.’

‘That would be tragic,’ Horus agreed.

(guys are you flirting right now)

They both express that they are sad they can’t spend more time together: ‘I confess I would relish the opportunity to share the battlefield with you again,’ Sanguinius went on. ‘And not just that. I miss our conversations.’

Horus’ frown deepened. ‘One day we will be done with all this […] Then we can talk and play regicide to our hearts’ content.’

Ohhh nooo

Horus Rising

When Sang first arrives on Murder: “[Horus] stepped forwards and embraced Sanguinius to his breast. No two primarchs were as close as the Warmaster and the Angel. They had barely been out of each other’s company since Sanguinius’ arrival.”

Horus is determined to go into battle personally on Murder. “Loken was sure that Sanguinius was the reason. Horus could not bring himself to stand by and watch his dearest brother go to war. Horus could not resist the temptation of fighting shoulder to shoulder with Sanguinius, as they had done in the old days.

Horus would not let himself be outshone, even by the one he loved most dearly.”

During a discussion about the interex: “Sanguinius said nothing. He allowed his Chapter Master to weigh in with the opinion of the Blood Angels, but kept his own considerable influence for Horus’ ears alone.”

Making each other giggle:

“[Horus:] ’And it seems my wisest option is to return to Terra and confront the Council on the issue of taxation.’

Sanguinius sniggered.”

The scene which comes immediately after the infamous ‘on his knees and not above a whisper’ moment, where Sanguinius appears in Horus’ chambers having eavesdropped on his conversation with Loken and Aximand. It gives very ‘I was just hanging out in my boyfriend’s bedroom in a robe, eating cherries, like ya do’ vibes.

“Sanguinius stood in an archway at the far end of the chamber, behind a veil of white silk. He had been listening. The Lord of Angels brushed the silk hanging aside, and stepped into the stateroom, the crests of his wings brushing the glossy material. He was dressed in a simple white robe, clasped at the waist with a girdle of gold links. He was eating fruit from a bowl.

Loken and Aximand stood up quickly.

‘Sit down,’ Sanguinius said. ‘My brother’s in the mood to open his heart, so you had better hear the truth.’

‘I don’t believe-‘ Horus began. Sanguinius scooped one of the small, red fruits from his bowl and threw it at Horus.

‘Tell them the rest,’ he sniggered.

Horus caught the thrown fruit, gazed at it, then bit into it. He wiped the juice off his chin with the back of his hand[…]

‘Sanguinius, my dear brother, is right, for Sanguinius has always been my conscience.’

Sanguinius shrugged, an odd gesture for a giant with furled wings.”

Loken’s POV:

“Two days earlier, Primarch Sanguinius had finally taken his leave and returned to Imperial territory with the Blood Angels contingents. Horus clearly hated to see him go, but it was a prudent move, and one Sanguinius had chosen to make simply to buy his brother more time with the interex.”

Later in Fear to Tread, Horus’ choice of messenger to Sang is… interesting:

An unnaturally tall female clad from head to foot in robes of a strange, sheer material […] beneath the shapeless robes she wore nothing else.

‘Horus Lupercal’s message is for his brother’s eyes only. The meme-blocks in my psyche and the telepathic codes holding my aura closed will only dissolve…’ She released a sigh, gazing dreamily at the primarch. ‘When we are alone.’

Sanguinius was like marble for the longest moment, his face unreadable.

[he agrees]

The primarch reached out and raised her chin with his fingertips, making her meet his gaze. ‘You’re a curious one,’ he offered. ‘What has made my brother send you to me, mamzel?’

‘I would not like to guess,’ she breathed, fingering a silver clasp upon her robes.

[…] ‘I am not divine, sayeth the angel.’ She reached out, daring to touch the trailing edge of his folded wings beneath the mail cloak.

To deliver the message, she of course has to strip off. I can only imagine Sang at this point thinking he has basically been sent a strip-o-gram.

The End and the Death. Ohhh boy. (I’m trying to avoid real plot spoilers so these are mostly out of context quotes)

Ways in which Horus describes Sang in this book, sometimes within a few pages:

Sanguinius, whom you’ve always loved

The beautiful Angel

He was the only other choice [for Warmaster]. Can I tell you a secret? He would have been my choice. I love all my brothers, but my love for Sanguinius is particular. […] You must meet him. He will take your breath away.

Back in the day, you adored him because you thought him fearlessly brave. But it was effortless back then. To see him now, fighting on despite his mortal dread of you, you understand that he has become fearfully brave. That is impressive. It makes you love him a little more.

He’s taunting you […] You thought he was better than that. You thought, in fact, that he was perfect. [It] makes him seem juvenile, and you don’t want to think of him that way. He’s Sanguinius. You’ve always loved him.

He’s got a little left. A little strength. A little speed. More than you expected. He deserves his fame. […] Oh, he’s good. Even now. Still trying.

The dreams were real. Your favourite brother should have heeded them.

He sees himself as the last good man standing. The last loyal son. The last bastion of noble valour, fighting to the death in his father’s name, refusing to submit. That’s why you love him. It is painfully heroic. It is the quintessence of what he is.

Before Sang finds Horus, A Character explains to him that ‘You don’t know if you want to [kill him], because it’s Horus.’ […] and that the pain he feels is not his wounds, but grief for the loss of Horus as he knew him. Sang says ‘I couldn’t see it. Now you say it, I do. I miss him very much. So very much.’

The same Character: ‘Join him? He’d love that. He loves you.’

Sooo as if that wasn’t heartbreaking enough -

Their first words to one another:

Horus: ‘Brother.’ […] My brother. My dear brother. I waited for you for so long. You have come, as I hoped you would. I have missed you. […] My heart is full that this is the choice you made.’

Sanguinius: ‘And my heart is full to see you again. […] Despite all that has taken place. I have mourned the loss of my brother Horus. I would not have let this monstrous war end without seeing you, with my own eyes, one last time.’

Horus tries to convince Sang to join him straight away. ‘Make a wise choice, my dear brother. I have longed for your company.’

When Sang declines: A single tear wells from his eye and trickles down his cheek. ‘Pity,’ he says.

Sang’s POV (a passage which has such Vibes that I immediately wrote a fic based on That Intimate Knowledge):

He knows Horus, just as he knows the Vengeful Spirit. He knows his brother’s secret levels and concealed flaws, because Horus taught them to him. In those far-off days before the shadow fell, Horus shared everything with his angel-brother. That intimate knowledge, granted without vanity or hesitation, has allowed Sanguinius to penetrate the most formidable flagship in the Imperium. It will also lead him to his brother’s heart.

Horus wanting to turn Sang to his side rather than kill him, against the wishes of the chaos gods:

You’re still holding back a little. He doesn’t have to die. When that instant of recognition finally hits him, you’ll give him one last chance to reconsider his position.

He will see, at the very last, the way things truly are. An epistemological revelation. Weeping in joy, he will beg you for forgiveness.

And you will, in your infinite mercy, grant it to him. It will be the greatest moment of his life, and the sweetest victory of yours.

At what point will he realise that everything he’s doing is utterly pointless? How beautiful will that moment of recognition be? You want to see that futility dawning in his eyes. Close up. Face to face. You want to smell it on his breath.

(calm down Horus)

Once futility has broken him, you will lift him up again. You will carry him to the throne you have prepared for him, and invite him to sit there and rest. He will have played his part, and done all he could. There’ll be no shame in saying yes to you then.

He is your favourite. Always has been. You want him with you, because that will mean something. […] To break him, to bend him to your will, now that’s a true triumph. The embodiment of Imperial loyalty, cowed at your feet, feeding from your hand, pledging his devotion. Look upon that, father.

(excuse me Horus but feeding from your hand???)

Sooo there we have the sheer vibes of the final fight featuring Horus constantly narrating how much he loves Sang. My face went through so many permutations of expressions while reading it for the first time.

[fortheloveofsolas]

INCORRECT QUOTES GENERATOR:

*literally generated, I'm taking no credit for them but made me laugh and hope they'll make you laugh too

Inquisitor: Stop buying plastic skeletons for Halloween! It's terrible for the environment!

Solas: Yeah! Locally sourced, all natural skeletons are much more environmentally friendly!

____________

Inquisitor: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail

Sera: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

_____________

Inquisitor: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Solas: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Inquisitor: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING SERA WITH ME

Dorian, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

----------------

Inquisitor, banging on the door: Solas! Open up!

Solas: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Vivienne: No, they meant-

Dorian: Let them finish.

-------------------

Solas: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Dorian: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Inquisitor: I got distracted about halfway through.

Sera: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

---------

Inquisitor: Solas, I'm sad.

Solas: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay.

Cole: Cassandra, I'm sad.

Cassandra, nodding: mood.

--------

Inquisitor: Why is Solas so sad?

Cole: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Inquisitor: And...?

Cole: They got Sera.

---------

Inquisitor: I think we're missing something.

Cassandra: Teamwork?

Solas: Cohesion?

Cullen: A general sense of what we’re doing?

[trigunsbbygirl]

More Reverse Isekai Hcs with the Twins

another one with more focus on Vash, but Nai is there too. V relationship with reader so absolutely nothing going on with the twins.

also mention a not sfw song at the very end

•Vash loves window shopping. there's so many interesting things on Earth! Vash drags you around to each store and always ooo's and ahh's at everything. obsessed with stickers and animal shaped things (especially when it comes to cooking.)

•he bought animal cookie cutters and immediately tried them out and was both slightly disappointed and dying of laughter when the cookies came out way rounder than when they went in. Vash frosts them very seriously either way, holding in laughter at how they look. he can't hold it any longer when you catch his attention, holding up what was meant to be a bear, decorated with nothing but a small 'c:' on its face. you're wavering straight face and almost serious voice saying "he chonky" has him losing it.

•every once in a while when Vash is putting something in the oven, he'll quote that copypasta "Why do they call it oven when you of in the cold food of out hot eat the food?" Nai wants to smack him everytime he says it.

•speaking of, Vash quite likes internet language. he's not excessive with using them, but sometimes Vash'll be like 'look at the doggo/pupper!' he also starts saying lol and pog. he doesn't say them in public much though. he's still trying to learn about the difference in online culture and offline culture.

•unlike Nai, Vash finds merchandise fascinating. he loves looking at plushies, figurines and charms, he thinks it's all so cool! Vash buys you all matching phone charms. it makes him so happy whenever he spots it dangling from yours and Nai's phones.

•but speaking of, Vash finds out about the figurines of himself and if he can, he's absolutely buying them. he's looking at them and is all like damn I look so cool! and rubs it in Nai's face that he has not only more, but cooler figurines.

•Vash recreates the poses of them too, aiming his finger gun at you, before yelling out a bang, lifting his arm up in fake recoil. you gasp, griping at your torso, dramatically falling to the floor. "help me Nai, I've been shot!"

Nai rolls his eyes at the two of yours antics, making his way towards you and picking you up. As he makes his way towards your bedroom he says, "I have to give her medical attention, don't bother us."

Vash's eyes widen as he gets up to follow Nai. "Now wait a second!"

•the dorks actually do know how to share you. it was a little rough at the beginning but they've learned and figured things out pretty well! they don't fight for your attention, but they do get a little jealous, and pouty if you give too much attention to the other often. they're both pretty touch starved so good luck lol. however they do read eachother well and know when not to try and get your attention from the other.

•Vash would've loved the time when mustaches and the peace symbol were insanely popular.

•speaking of mustaches, Vash once came home wearing one of those fake glasses with mustache and nose disguises. when you turned to welcome him home he responded with a serious face, "who is Vash?" you fake a gasp asking who he is and what he's doing there. before Vash can respond, Nai is getting up with a grin on his face. "well since we don't know him, we can kick him out and make sure he can never get back in."

Vash nervously laughs, waving his hands, "we don't need to go that far haha.."

Nai laughs back mockingly,"why not? you are breaking into our house, stranger."

Vash immediately yanks the glasses off, "look! its me! Vash!" you gasp and run up to him, hugging his side. "Vash! there was a tall scary stranger in here! I'm glad you're here to help Nai protect me!"

Nai watches as Vash coddles you. he'd be lying to himself if he said he hated the antics you two do. he watches you give Vash a kiss on the cheek before walking over and pulling you away from Vash. "I'm the one that protected you, why are you praising him?" he asks, staring at you with narrowed eyes. Nai may look angry but really, he just wants kisses too.

•Vash loves bees! he'll go out to the little garden he's been working on and watch as bees and butterflies come by. it's one of his favorite pastimes.

•Vash is very involved with the community. he always offers the neighbors any extra food he's made and seeing if anyone needs help. he's happy to mow someone's lawn or weed a garden and do any small chores someone may be unable to do. Vash also goes around and tries to volunteer a lot since he can't really work. as much as he likes exploring hobbies, he gets a little restless being at home so much.

•Vash wants to try eating everything and that doesn't just include meals. somehow Vash learned that dandelions are edible and the next time you two take a walk, before you truly realize it, you're watching Vash shove the yellow part of a dandelion flower into his mouth.

•but seriously he really does want to try eating different plants. Vash does a lot of research and is always giving Nai suggestions of foods to incorporate into meals.

•if Vash could, I could absolutely see him working in the medical department as a pediatrician. he loves kids a lot and he's great at playing with kids, comforting them and making sure they feel as happy as they possibly can be at the hospital. he always jokes around with them, gets to know each kid he works with and always tries to be there for them when they're sad or scared.

•likewise, I know I said Nai would work at a book store, but I like to imagine Nai could become a surgeon. he's not lost to the irony in it, that he's saving lives, but it's just something he's taken an interest in. he wants to learn about human anatomy. (idk how to explain it really but it just makes sense to me. he'd be good at it too, never gets tired, steady hands, keen eyes, very precise)

•prank Vash a little bit when it comes to the modern era. tell him that when the plane lands everybody claps and applauds the pilots. Vash almost did that the first time he went flying, he lifted his hands up, but he was confused when no one started clapping. he catches on quickly that it was a prank.

•Vash combusts if you ever sing E.T by Katy Perry. stare at him as you sing it and he'll get so red in the face. he's covering his face with his hands and curling into himself and whining out to stop.(he doesn't want you to though)

•same with if you prank him and show him that The Bad Touch by Bloodhound Gang. go up to him and tell him you have a cool popular song to show and he lights up, Vash likes pretty much all of the songs you show him. when the song starts, he's bopping his head to the beat and tells you, smiling, it's cool so far. then the lyrics start and Vash's smile immediately falls and he blushes so hard. he can't even look at you and you're laughing your ass off at his reaction.

•Nai, the boring fucker, would just raise an eyebrow at you. he either doesn't fall for your pranks or just has no reaction. shame.

[cin-cant-donate-blood]

I think there is something really tragic about those posts that are like "man can you imagine future archaeologists reading our posts" because I don't actually believe even a fraction of all the things we say will survive for very long.

We supposedly live in an information age where everything is recorded, and people say that once something is on the internet, it is there for ever, but this is clearly not true.

Most of the internet is managed by corporations, and when a certain website dies, there is absolutely no incentive to spend all the money necessary to preserve ecerything that was ever posted. Maybe Archive.org will have saved a lot, but it can't save everything.

Even right now internet history going back as recently as the 90s is really spotty. A lot of forums and sites are simply lost to time.

And maybe one day Archive.org will run out of money too, and everything they preserved will be lost, not in a dramatic bang like the fire in the Library of Alexandria, but with a whimper, like the many thousands of times more documents that have been lost simply because no one copied them in the few decades they had before the mold or worms or whatever else got to them.

Think of Sappho and Catullus, two of the most celebrated poets of ancient Greece and Rome respectively. Both were prolific, and both were titans, widely celebrated for their extraordinary work, long after their deaths.

Both had a single century or two where people got tired of them, and almost every single thing they ever wrote was irrecoverably lost, because books do not last forever, especially not the ones written on papyrus, which was the dominant medium at the time and has a quoted life span of about 70 years unless stored in nearly perfect conditions (desert conditions, which is why we associate papyrus with Egypt).

All we have now are a handfull of fragments of their work. They are, once again, and perhaps forever, celebrated as geniuses, but we can't ever undo that single, brief moment where the majority of their work was lost forever, not out of malice, but out of indifference.

Everything not actively, painstakingly, expensively maintained will be lost, inevitably and irretrievably. Stone carvings last longer, but they're horribly space inefficient. The invention of parchment, which can survive centuries, greatly improved things, but that too is extremely expensive compared to paper or papyrus. Modern digital storage is the same; we just made the copying process easier.

One day, tumblr will die. It is as inevitable as your death or mine. Or the death of the sun. In fact, tumblr will probably die within our lifetimes. When it dies, some things will be saved, but many will not. Some will miss it, but most will forget. Out of millions of posts, perhaps a few hundred thousand survive as jpeg screenshots on reddit, instagram, or whatever sites survive tumblr. Then, as those die, perhaps ten thousand screenshots of screenshots carry on to new social media sites, as of yet not made. And then a thousand of those survive as those sites die.

And maybe those will be the thousand best, and maybe some expert will even be able to tell you that they're screenshots of tumblr, and in a few words what tumblr was, but what even is the thousand best? Every copying act is a choice by someone who thought it was worth copying. Tastes change, and as they do, maybe one generarion's favorite is destroyed by the neglect of the next.

Tumblr isn't special. This is the future of all social media. Echos will persist, but so much will be lost.

So maybe, one day, an internet archaeologist will find your silly tumblr post about how crazy it would be if someone was reading what you said centuries from now. Unfortunately, there will be so much context missing. Maybe your post will be one of a mere hundred remaining, most of which make references to in-jokes and memes long forgotten: incomprehensible and empty. Like the statue in Ozymandias: nothing beside remains.

I'll end this with a poem from the lost poets I mentioned, and since this is tumblr, why not a gay one? Both Catullus and Sappho have their share of love poems dedicated to members of the same sex, but the partial poem known as Sappho 31 is probably the most well known. This is Edward Storer's translation:

He seems like a god to me the man who is near you,

Listening to your sweet voice and exquisite laughter

That makes my heart so wildly beat in my breast.

If I but see you for a moment, then all my words

Leave me, my tongue is broken and a sudden fire

Creeps through my blood. No longer can I see.

My ears are full of noise. In all my body I

Shudder and sweat. I am pale as the sun-scorched

Grass. In my fury I seem like a dead woman,

But I would dare...

... and that's it. The ending has never been found. Scholars think anywhere between a few lines and half the poem is missing.

[queensilber]

Supernatural: Witch‘s Canyon

Posting everything in this book that i think you need to know, lets go!

Summary:

Okay, so, the boys head to the Grand Canyon to solve a case of a fourty-year murder cycle. The spirits of variouse humans and animals alike attack the locals and they need to find out why and how to stop it.

It is set somewhere in Season two.

My opinion:

This was so much fun. Like, it was really like watching an episode, just a lot longer and with the magic ability to see into Sam and Deans (and a bunch of other characters) heads.

It also gave a little bit of a fanfiction vibe, just with the addidtion that everything is cannon and that all the random little facts and quotes are a real thing (i‘ll list those in a second)

And also there were flashbacks of their childhood??? That made me cry??? I hated john winchester before, but now even more so. (More about the flashbacks below too)

So yea, it was definetly worth it and i cant wait to read the others!!

Songs:

This is the music Sam and Dean listened to during the course of the book (some locals listened to music too, but i did not list those)

- „paranoid“ by Black Sabbath

- „turn the page“ by Bob Seger

- unspecified tape by Bad Company

Flashbacks:

There are two flashbacks to Sam and Dean‘s Childhood:

- the first one is Dean Remembering a time when John made him and Sam run through an obstacle course at age twelve and eight. Dean had to shoot a gun during it, Sam just had to point and yell „Bang!“.

In the process of that Sam got injured and cried and John yelled at him to keep going and that he was doing poorly. Dean comforted his brother and encouraged him, leading to sam actually making it. Sam did it and Dean cheered, but john kept yelling at them to keep going to the next obstacle.

- the second one was from when Dean was fourteen and Sam was ten. Their Dad gave them backbags and said what was in them could last them fir four days and they all went on a hike together.

In the middle of nowhere john then saud that they should not trust anyone on what they are told and left them alone, telling them that they should find their way (at very least two days of walk) back themsleves and they shouldnt have relied on him so much and he just… left.

When they checked their backbags they found that most in it was useless and they were also filled with rocks to make it seem like it was more than it was.

Thats so fucked up, like

Those are children. And the worst part, when Dean rememvers this he thinks of it almost positively because it taught him a valuable lesson. I cant even begin to describe how my heart hurt for them.

Random facts:

Here are some facts from the book, i do t know anymor if those are mentioned in the show too, but it hardly matters, i think:

- Sam outgrew Dean at the age of 16

- Dean felt gutity over Jessicas death and thought that it was a „more solid basis“ of guilt than Sam had on the matter

- Sam can differentiate between uniforms of different wars in history just by a look

- Dean hates Rats. A lot.

Quotes:

Some quotes from the book:

John Winchester hunted monsters, ghosts, demons — the creatures most people only believed in deep down in their 3:00 am hearts, abd that they laughted off when the sun was bright and their spirits high.

It was a habit Dean had picked up from Dad — reffering to what they did as a „job“. To Sam it was nore of a Mission, even a calling.

„Sammy really likes cops,“ Dean said. „If he didnt have any talents he might have become one“

Sometimes he thought Dean wouldnt mind dying if he could go out in a blaze of glory, as the saying went. In moments of fairness, Sam knew that wasnt true. Dean didnt care about the glory; he cared about making a difference.

„I‘m coming around to the point, Sam.“ „He‘s Dean,“ Sam corrected. „I‘m Sam“. „Sorry, For some reason, you just look more like a Dean to me“

Gilmore Girls reference?

„You tried to shoot my brother“ Dean said.

Sam belived in a highter power, Dean didnt. Sam didnt have any special knowledge that Dean lacked, handt seen or heard or met God.

Lol, not yet.

Dean had been a kid, hadnt ever had a chance to become anything other than what Dad had made of him. That, finally, was the gulf between them — the canyon that could never be bridged.

Dean was an amazing guy, Sam knew, with skills and abilities most people would never imagine, and smarts Dean himself wouldnt credit, even though he relied on them all the time. And yet, at times like this, he was so humble, so unassuming, that he seemed almost unaware of the importance if his iwn contributions. At other times, of course, that humility vanished. Knowing and accepting both Deans, he guessed, was what being brothers was all about. Maybe I wouldnt want to be Dean, he thought, but i‘m sure glad I have him araound.

STOP MAKING MY CRY WTH

So anyways, that book sure was an experiance and i cant wait for the next one! I‘ll post a review of that as well and will update that post with a link to it one i‘m done!

Xoxo! <3

Next>

[mythsandheather]

Because I already brought this up on Reddit, let’s talk about it here too.

LONG POST ABOUT HADES, HERA AND AVOIDING ACCOUNTABILITY LIKE THE PLAGUE INCOMING.

Persephone knows that Hera and Hades had a thing now, right? So after guilt tripping herself all day for feeling insecure, they finally talk about it. Hades admits to having feelings for her once. Feelings, let’s be specific. He hasn’t yet said they had a relationship or a centuries long affair behind Zeus’s back.

Persephone, as any sensible person would, asks a very fair question. Let’s ignore how disconcerting she looks for a second.

Now the response any normal fucking person would give here would obviously be “no”, right? Or some variation. “No, I’m not.” “No, we’re just friends.” “No, that’s in the past and I love you.”

That’s the normal, reasonable, acceptable response…but this is Lore Olympus. So naturally Hades doesn’t do that.

“Let me just preface this” oh I just know I’m about to hear some male manipulator bullshit. All that shit he just said when he could have simply said “no”. Also, why the pause?

Never fails to make me laugh how LO Hera is supposed to be this glamorous, sympathetic, strong, aspirational figure that Persephone and the audience alike should revere, when all she is is a racist, classist, deadbeat parent and chain smoking drunk whose primary hobby seems to be putting on too much mascara just so she can cry it off every other chapter.

Also, Hades, if you had a lot of respect for Hera, you wouldn’t be telling Persephone all her business without her knowledge or consent.

JUST SAY NO YOU ANTISEMITIC LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER.

What does that even mean? “What we are now is a ghost of what we used to be.” What a weirdly vague yet specific choice of words.

What did you used to be? Hades never says what they were or how long it went for and he still never fucking says it’s over. Now it’s just…a ghost? What’s that then, Papa Smurf?

Are you still haunted by this relationship? Is it like a ghost in the sense it’s going to come back cuz that’s what ghosts do? Cuz I’m not hearing “that phase is completely done”, I’m hearing “this phase is on pause and will most definitely be picked up on again the second the opportunity presents itself”. 

Like I said, it’s such a weird, specific choice of words.

To quote Mabel “Madea” Simmons, “look at him try to throw it on you now. It’s like if he tries to get Persephone to engage and agree with him, then it’s all okay and he’s successfully excused himself and distracted from the question at the same time.

First, a couple of petty things. One, look at how wonky his eyes are. Those were adjusted last minute and you can see it. Also his hairstyle changed with each panel. 

Second, there have always been a lot of immortal beings around. At the specific time we’re talking about back when Hera and Hades first got together, for example, there was already a whole mess of chthonic gods running around. There were nymphs, satyrs and other immortal creatures that were and are perfectly viable dating options. 

Hades just so happened to want the woman who was dating his brother and banging his dad, and Persephone just so happened to get involved with two of her cousins and then marry her uncle.

This whole “the immortal dating pool” comment feels like a disclaimer to avoid the fact that, try as she might to avoid it, Rachel ended up right back in the incest pit that all Greek mythology adaptions inevitably try to avoid yet fall into in the end.

I’m also not going to pretend that these two having such a limited word view on dating options doesn’t stem from the fact that they think basically everyone else is inferior to them.

But, in conclusion, Hades was asked a fair question that required a one word answer. One word, two letters…and he could not do it. 

Instead we get dragged on this purple prose wannabe, “I’m 14 and this is deep” diatribe that barely skims the surface of what his entanglement with Hera really was. Immediately following this, Hades goes on to explain Hera’s golden traitor title and her history with Kronos. This is also the infamous chapter where he claims Zeus has no trauma.

He was more comfortable discussing his father abusing and then brutally maiming Hera, and more comfortable minimising what happened to his brothers, than he was just saying “no, I don’t love Hera anymore”. 

Rachel does this for Hades a lot. Hades is, at least in my opinion, not one of the more interesting greek deities and the fact he’s the male lead of LO and her celebrity crush’s insert means she feels the need to beef up how important, how powerful, how desirable, how vulnerable, how lonely, how angry, how complicated he is, but does not possess the skill to do so.

So she writes herself into a corner and the mountain of evidence for Hades being a fucking awful person gets bigger. 

For example, as we just saw, Hades had a thing with Hera. He’s soooo sexy and so hot and so kind and so perfect and so irresistible and desirable that even Hera can’t resist him! But wait! Making Hades and Hera have a centuries long affair behind Zeus’s back and with Hades going into another relationship where he cheats on his current girlfriend, Minthe, with Persephone, doesn’t reflect well on poor daddy Hades! What to do??

The simple and logical route, other than just not having the stupid affair in the first place, is for Hades to just admit he made a mistake and he regrets it and is trying to do better. But wait! Daddy Hades is a complicated and edgy bad boy…but he can’t actually do anything bad cuz he always has to be in the right! 

So instead of ever admitting he’s wrong, god forbid he do that, let alone apologise, every time we get treated to what a piece of shit he is and the consequences of his bad actions and Rachel’s bad writing, we get tormented with more faux-deep prose that’s meant to paint him as a helpless lonely victim and remove any blame from him, while conveniently always minimising and dismissing someone else’s suffering.

I’d kill to see what sad, poetic, overly-wordy garbage he spins when he inevitably cheats on Persephone with Hera, because this whole exchange all but screams that the door is very much still open.

Persephone felt bad about herself for being insecure by the chemistry and contact that Hera and Hades still have, because how could she even think of misjudging poor dear Hades? IMO, she’s not worried enough. Homegirl is already on her way to ending up where Minthe was.

[steddieasitgoes]

Pulling triple duty with this one.

Written for @steddiemas Day 29: Holiday Parties and @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge. It's also a holiday sequel to my big bang fic Signed, Sealed Delivered, I'm Yours

My prompt for the Winter Fanworks Challenge was: “If I wear that sweater to work, my boss will kill me."

Tags: Established relationships, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Mailman Steve, Platonic Soulmate Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Slice of Life

wc: 4003 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The Brookbridge Post Office holiday party is a tradition that dates back long before Steve joined the ranks. Every year Warren splurges on renting out a private room at a restaurant or banquet hall before passing all the planning off to his assistant of the month. The only rule, as far as Steve’s aware, is that it has to be tied to some charity organization so that he can write the whole thing off later.

This year is no different as the invitation he finds shoved into his work locker has the Toys for Tots logo front and center. What is different is the attire section that requests all guests break out their best holiday sweaters for the occasion.

Steve’s not sure what constitutes a holiday sweater, but he has a closet full of knit red and green ones that’ll surely work. No sweat off his back. Especially since he’s also done with the toy shopping.

The holiday party isn’t Steve’s favorite way to spend a random Saturday in December, but he always sucks it up and goes. Usually drags Robin along with him so they can stand in the corner getting drunk off free drinks while making fun of Tommy and his gang of mini-me’s as they try to hit on everyone’s plus ones.

It’s not the highlight of their holiday season by any means, but it's a tradition they’ve had going for years now. One he’s not sure he wants to break this year even though he could take Eddie as his romantic plus one. Which is exactly what he tells Robin during their Saturday movie marathon.

They’re sprawled out on the couch, Dumpster between them, with Christmas Vacation playing in the background. They’ve seen it enough times to quote the entire thing from memory so neither minds the interruption. It’s not like they ever actually watch movies on their Saturday movie afternoons anyway.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Robin snorts, lobbing a pillow at his head. “Of course, you’re taking Eddie!”

“But we always go together.”

“Only because you never have a date!”

“So, what? You’ve been going all these years as my pity plus one?” Steve asks, nudging her with his knee.

“I’m sorry, did you think I liked hanging out in some stuffy banquet hall listening to Hagan and his little groupies try to hit on me?”

“Don’t forget the year Warren hit on you.” Robin retches, startling Dumpster from her slumber. The cat yawns before slowly climbing off the couch and down the hallway in search of somewhere quieter to sleep.

“Take Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

“Don’t you think two months of dating is too soon to be taking him to work events?”

This time it’s Robin’s bony knee that jabs into the meaty flesh of his thigh.“Jesus, Robs,” he hisses, pulling the hem of his shorts up to check for instant bruising.

“You’re dumber than I thought if you really think you and Eddie have only been dating for two months. What about all those months before, huh?” Steve doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes in silent protest. She’s not wrong, but she’s not right either. “Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t already met some of the people from work when he goes to the post office.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Steve sighs. Still, there’s something lingering in the pit of his stomach. A gnawing, unpleasant weight that he can’t shake. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Tommy’s going to be there, though.”

The same Tommy who has been a Grade-A douchebag since getting removed from Steve’s route and put back on sorter/greeter duty. Steve’s not sure why he doesn’t just quit if he’s so miserable but every day he finds himself on the receiving end of a lackluster death glare.

Also, the same Tommy who gave Eddie the nickname “Mr. Dreamy.” The same Tommy who relentlessly hit on Eddie until he finally got thrown out of his house once and for all.

The same Tommy who has no idea that the guy Steve is seeing, because yes, Tommy knows Steve is seeing someone and teases him about it daily, is said, Mr. Dreamy.

Bringing Eddie into that is a recipe for disaster. One Steve’s not sure he even wants to subject himself to, let alone Eddie.

“On second thought,” Robin says, scrambling to sit up. “Can you take two guests? I will suffer the gross gazes and bad pick-up lines of your male coworkers just so I can see Hagan’s face fall when he realizes you’re dating the guy he was after.”

Steve laughs despite himself, shaking his head. If there’s one thing Robin loves, it’s being a fly on the wall for some good, old-fashioned drama.

📬 🎄 📬

With Robin officially denying his plus-one invitation, Steve sets out to ask Eddie.

It’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, he knows this, but something about it also feels like a Big Deal — with a capital B and D. Sure, they’ve branched out from their routine lunch dates — they have a standing Sunday brunch double date with the girls and make a point to go out at least once during the week, plus Steve regularly stops by the shop now, but it's different inviting Eddie to go to a work event with him.

It’s another step in their relationship.

One toward a more permanent future and Steve doesn’t want to fuck it up by scaring Eddie away.

So he spends a week testing the waters. Asks Eddie about his holiday plans over Toasty Treats’ legendary holiday turkey sandwich on Tuesday. Brings up Tommy’s latest fuck up over chili leftovers on Thursday to gage Eddie’s feelings about him (“Jesus H. Christ he really is an idiot,” he laughs, clearly poking fun, but not in the teasing way he does with Steve that always makes his cheeks heat up). During brunch on Sunday, he goads Robin into sharing a fun anecdote from last year's party where one too many cocktails had her and Steve taking over the karaoke machine serenading guests all night with off-key renditions of Christmas carols.

When Steve steals a glance at Eddie he finds him smiling and laughing along with the story.

And just like that the seed is planted.

Steve finally gets the courage to ask the question he’s been dancing around for a week on Tuesday over leftover Chinese takeout.

“Course I’ll be your plus-one, Stevie,” Eddie answers mouthful of Chow-Mien. “I’ll be your plus-one anytime, anywhere, any—”

“Alright, you sap,” Steve laughs, leaning over the table to steal a kiss.

“Does this mean I’m finally going to see the back room where the mail sorter fairies work?”

“Unfortunately not. The party’s at the banquet hall in town.”

“Dammit,” Eddie sighs.

“Oh, and you have to wear a Christmas sweater.”

“Love me a good theme!”

📬 🎄 📬

Turns out, what Steve considers a Christmas sweater is very different from what Eddie considers a Christmas sweater. A fact he’s currently in the midst of learning as he glances around Eddie’s bedroom.

“Stevie, sweetheart, love of my life,” Eddie says, clasping his hands in front of him as he rocks on the balls of his feet. “That is not a Christmas sweater.”

Steve glances down at the knit sweater he’s wearing before fisting the hem and pulling it away from his chest to get a better look. He’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about. It’s totally a Christmas sweater!

“Yeah it is, Eds,” he defends. “It has a reindeer and a tree on it. That’s pretty Christmas.”

Eddie gawks for a moment before scrubbing a hand down his face. Steve knows he only does that when he’s frustrated so he braces for whatever he’s going to say.

“Objectively speaking, yes, it is a Christmas sweater. But it’s also not a Christmas sweater.”

This time it’s Steve who gawks at Eddie. He’s used to Eddie getting worked up over random things, but this is a new one. “Okay Christmas Sweater expert, what is an appropriate Christmas sweater then.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Eddie grins before stalking over to the pile of clothes on his bed. He shuffles through the clothes for a moment, tossing a few shirts to the wayside before he shouts victoriously and turns around clutching a red sweater in his hands. “Now this is a Christmas sweater.”

Steve can’t help the cackle that escapes him the minute his eyes land on the sweater. It’s a red monstrosity with an upside-down snowman sprawled out over the entire thing. A plastic carrot of some sort protrudes off and hanhs low, blending with the tinsel on the hat and two blue ornament balls that also dangle low

“If I wear that sweater to work, my boss will kill me,” Steve says through laughter.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad!”

“Eddie!” Steve squawks, brows knitted together. “It’s literally a dick and balls!”

“Warren is a buzz kill,” Eddie sighs, tossing the sweater aside. Without another word, he reaches for another sweater from the mess on his bed and turns around. “What about this one?”

This one is green with a gingerbread man smiling in the middle. It looks innocent enough except for the fact that the gingerbread has bloodshot eyes and the words “let’s get baked” are stitched in big white letters followed by a marijuana leaf.

“Are you trying to get me fired? Again!”

“Hey,” Eddie scolds playfully. “I didn’t get you fired, I got you demoted. And we agreed it was both our fault. Don’t be putting the blame on me! Besides I’m just sticking with the theme.”

“Baby, the theme is Christmas sweaters not whatever this is,” Steve says waving his hands in the air.

“These are Christmas sweaters.”

“I mean, yeah, they’re technically Christmas sweaters but they’re not appropriate!” Steve laughs. “Where did you even find them?”

“Are you forgetting I work with artists all day? Me and the guys make them.”

“You made these?” Steve asks, snatching the sweater from his hands to get a better look.

Up close it's easier to tell that they’re homemade. The stitches are slightly askew, a missing thread or two here and there. Overall though they’re store-like quality. He didn’t even know Eddie could sew let alone sew an entire inappropriate Christmas sweater. If the tattooing thing doesn’t work out, maybe he and the Hellfire guys should start a clothing line.

“That’s pretty impressive actually.”

“So, does that mean you’ll wear one?”

“To my work party? Absolutely not,” Steve laughs.

“Come on,” Eddie whines. “Nowhere on that invite does it say it has to be appropriate!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s implied! Maybe you can get away with that at the shop's holiday parties, but Brookbridge is full of stuck-up employees. Warren might be sleeping with his assistant but I don’t think he’ll appreciate this,” Steve says, lifting the gingerbread sweater.

“I guess that means I should change then.”

“Wait, you’re wearing one of these right now?” Eddie nods, coaxing another chuckle from Steve. “What does yours look like?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

With eyes shining with mirth and that crooked smile, Steve loves so much, Eddie slowly peels off his leather jacket revealing the Christmas sweater he’s been wearing. It’s hunter-green and looks incredibly soft to the touch. Unfortunately, the words “Well Hung” are stitched in a bright green across the chest. Four baubles are stitched on underneath in various sizes trying their best to make the phrase Christmas-appropriate instead of the innuendo it is.

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezes, doubling over in laughter. It takes him a minute to compose himself and when he does Eddie is standing there beaming with pride. “S’clever and definitely true.” Eddie’s smile grows even wider at that. “But yeah, I think you should change, baby.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Eddie groans.

“Hey, I’m plenty fun,” he says, quickly closing the distance between them. Steve gets his hands on Eddie, wrapping them around his middle and pulling him flush with his chest before searing a kiss to his lips. “But I don’t want to give Tommy any ideas. Don’t think he’d back off if he saw you advertising yourself like this.”

Eddie hums in consideration before reluctantly agreeing. Wiggling out of Steve’s grasp, he yanks the sweater off and tosses it onto the bed with the other rejected sweaters. Then, he sulks over to his closet to search for another sweater. A few minutes pass, nothing but the sounds of plastic hangers clanging against the metal rod filling the room before Eddie turns around with a huff.

“So, turns out I don’t have any appropriate Christmas sweaters.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I have a spare lying around. We’ll just stop by my place before heading over.”

📬 🎄 📬

They get intercepted by Debbie as they’re trying to leave, costing them an extra ten minutes they don’t have to spare. That added with the detour to Steve’s place and the inevitable quickie that follows when they realize Robin isn’t home makes them an hour late to the party.

But it’s not a big deal. Hardly anyone but Betty even realizes they’re late. And the only reason she notices is because she’s smoking outside the door when they get there.

“You clean up nice,” she says like she does every holiday party. Tossing the cigarette to the floor, she snubs it out with the toe of her boots before slowly dragging her eyes up Eddie. “You do too, Eddie, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m Eddie. And thank you, ma’am.”

Betty tsks, waving her hand in the air. “None of this ma’am crap. Just Betty is fine. Steve’s told me lots about you. Have you made a decision on that P.O. Box yet?”

Steve has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. That day doesn’t leave the best taste in his mouth considering how it ended, but it did start out with a lot of promise.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think it’s for me. S’much easier to have my mail delivered to me. Especially when he’s doing it.”

Betty glances at Steve and gives him another slow once over before winking at the both of them. “M’sure it is,” she laughs. “You boys better get in there. Don’t want to miss the fun.”

📬 🎄 📬

The banquet hall is decorated just as it always is. A giant Christmas tree sits in the middle. A handful of tables surround a small dance floor. There’s a buffet of food on one end, the donation table on the other. A small band is set up on stage, serenading the crowd with a mix of Top 40s and holiday hits. No karaoke machine this year much to Eddie’s chagrin.

After a round of drinks, Steve gets to mingling, introducing Eddie to the handful of coworkers he actually likes. The introductions are brief and his co-workers are quick to share embarrassing stories about Steve’s early days on the job with Eddie who listens and laughs along.

Eventually, Warren finds them, his wife draped lovingly on his arm while his assistant throws daggers his way from the bar. Steve puts on his best smile and expertly navigates the small talk, making a point to compliment Warren’s wife and joke about her being out of his league. Warren’s quick to excuse the both of them after that.

“He gives me the creeps,” Eddie shivers, watching as he guides his wife through the sea of people with a hand on the small of her back all the while making eyes with his assistant across the room.

“He’s definitely a douchebag,” Steve agrees.

He takes a sip of his drink as he scans the room. They’ve been here for almost two hours now and he hasn’t spotted Tommy once. Usually, he’s the center of attention at these things. Dancing up a storm and making it a point to flirt with everyone’s plus ones. Maybe he’s already staked his claim on someone and is getting lucky in the bathroom, Steve thinks before shaking the thought from his head. Who is he kidding, Tommy doesn’t have that kind of luck.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s sort of bummed that Tommy hasn’t made his presence known to him yet. Not because he wants to see him, he’d be happy going the rest of his life without having to share the same room with the guy, but because he wants to show Eddie off. And, okay, maybe he also wants to see Tommy’s face fall like Robin wanted to.

📬 🎄 📬

Steve is swaying with Eddie on the dance floor when the devil that is Tommy shithead Hagan finally materializes. He’s beyond tipsy, uneven on his feet, and freckled face flushed redder than Steve’s ever seen it. His eyes are glossy and his lips are curled in a way that sends alarm bells blaring in Steve’s head.

Trouble is afoot.

Afoot? Christ he’s spending too much time with Eddie.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Harrington.” He practically spits before whipping his head to stare at Eddie. “And oh, look what the postman dragged in. Yesterday’s mail!”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, taking a step toward Tommy. He gives Steve a mischievous look before cocking his head to the side as he gives Tommy his full attention. “Do I know you?”

“Oh don’t play coy in front of your little boy toy, darling,” Tommy slurs, reaching out to rest a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

It takes all the strength in Steve’s body not to reach out and yank his arm away. Thankfully, Eddie does it for him, shrugging the offending hand off with more force than necessary.

“Oh come on,” Tommy scoffs, more of a whine than anything else. “Don’t pretend like we didn’t have the best times when Harrington got himself demoted. What’s it like getting my sloppy seconds, Harrington?”

“Watch it, Tommy,” Steve scolds, taking a step closer to Hagan. He’s not going to make a scene, he’s not. But he’s also not going to stand here and let him talk about Eddie like that.

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “If I’m anyone’s sloppy seconds I’m Steve’s. And they are very sloppy if you catch my drift.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He knows he shouldn’t encourage this, but it's hard to be the bigger person when Tommy is standing right there purposely antagonizing him for his own gain. Sue him for wanting to play the game just a little.

“Sorry, Tommy, but Eds here is right,” Steve says, placing a delicate hand on Eddie’s shoulder before squeezing it. “Don’t you remember, I got demoted for hooking up with a “bombshell” in the van? Well, guess what, you’re looking at him.”

“That— that’s not what happened,” Tommy says, directing his words at Steve, not Eddie. “You weren’t with him! Aaron said you were with…”

Steve watches the metaphorical gears turning in Tommy’s head as he trails off. Can tell the moment things start clicking. He really had no clue that the guy Steve had been seeing was Eddie. Steve watches the stunned look spread across his face the same way it spread across his all those months ago when he caught Tommy leaving Eddie’s place. The gross realization that they actually do have the same type after all.

“Why don’t you keep moving Hagan,” Steve says, nodding his head in the opposite direction.

“Nah, I think I’m good right here, actually,” he says, confidence returning.

This guy just doesn’t know when to quit.

“Tommy seriously,” Steve tries again. “Go bother someone else. We’re not interested.”

“Oh, so you’re speaking for him now too?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffs. “You know I’m not interested in you. Never have been and never will be.”

That does it.

Steve sees the moment Tommy’s confident facade breaks. The rosiness of his cheeks grows into an angry red, flooding his body. His eyes, once glossy, are now laser-sharp and squinted. His fingers curl into fists at his side as he readies himself.

Steve’s faster though, stepping in front of Eddie at the same moment Tommy lunges. It would be easy to put an end to this once and for all. Give Tommy the gift of a black eye or bruised rib with one skilled punch that Steve would love to throw. But Tommy shithead Hagan isn’t worth losing his job for, so he reigns in his own anger and instead gets his palms on Tommy’s chest to hold him back.

“Don’t be stupid, Hagan,” Steve says. “Warren’s watching. Do you really want to lose your job for good this time?”

The words are supposed to knock some sense into the guy, calm him down. But it does the opposite, riling him up even more until Steve can practically feel his skin vibrating under his hands. Thankfully, Aaron and the rest of his minions are there in an instant, pulling him away and holding him back.

They try their best to calm him down but Steve can see Tommy’s anger growing by the second. He’s only seen him this angry once before — two months ago when Warren removed him from the route. He doesn’t need to see an encore performance so instead he reaches for Eddie’s hand and drags them away from the impending doom.

📬 🎄 📬

“Part of me still thinks you should have let him have it,” Eddie laughs, shoveling a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth.

“Tommy’s not worth it.”

“I would have been so pissed if I missed you deck him,” Robin says, working her way through her own mountain of pancakes.

“That’s the real reason you didn’t punch him, isn’t it?” Eddie teases.

“Oh yeah,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Promised Robin I wouldn’t punch anyone unless she was there to witness it.”

“Does she also have to refrain from punching people,” Chrissy asks.

Robin shakes her head. “Why? Is there someone I need to punch in your honor?”

“Not yet,” Chrissy says, nuzzling into her side. “But if Eddie makes us go to the Birchwood Holiday party in these tonight, you might need to. Debbie’s nephew is in town and he keeps staring at me from the window.”

“Again with the sweaters,” Eddie huffs, letting his fork clatter to the table. “They’re cozy and hilarious. You guys are just boring! Besides, people are going to love my sweater. You’ll see. They’re going to be all the rage one day.”

“Debbie already thinks they are,” Chrissy giggles. “I saw her wearing the one that says “I’m So Good Santa Came Twice” the other day while she was taking out the trash.”

“You gave Debbie one?” Steve shouts, nearly spitting out his orange juice in the process. Robin does spit out her drink, through her nose as usual as she chokes on her own laughter.

“She cornered me and I panicked! I didn’t think she’d wear it!”

“Look on the bright side, Eddie,” Robin says between shrieks of laughter. “With Debbie’s help, every suburban mom in Brookbridge will be walking around in one by next Christmas.”

“It’s a good thing you know a great delivery man,” Steve teases. “Because they’re going to be flying off the shelves.”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he groans.

As the table erupts into another fit of laughter, Steve can’t help but tug Eddie towards him before giving him a soft, syrup-infused kiss. And if he whispers something about feeling inspired by the inappropriate sweater Eddie’s picked out for him to wear later, well, that’s between him and Eddie and whoever’s bedroom they end up in when they leave Murray’s.

Besides, he still owes him for not punching Tommy himself at that holiday party.

And Steve always delivers.

[siriuslysirius05]

Top Gun as Quotes in my Quotebook, Vol2

All 100% real things I have heard in the last six months.

Maverick: “I’m not going to commit apoptosis one day off my antidepressants.”

Iceman: “Don’t ever fucking call me shmookums.”

Goose: “Stop eating my shoes you little shit!”

Slider: “When’s the last time you shit yourself?”

Carole: “I will drownded you!”

Hollywood: “If I put my hair down, I look like Humpty Dumpty.”

Wolfman: “Humpty Dumpty you’re up.”

Chipper: [to sundown] “Do you like eating sand?”

Sundown: [to chipper] “I love it!”

Merlin: “La revolution of La marshmallowtador.”

Rooster: “This is not a hate crime, I just hate you.”

Hangman: “He’s pissing for two.”

Phoenix: “Look, if you want to be the next hitler, go ahead. But I have nothing to do with it, alright?”

Bob: [to a superior officer] “You may think there is only three dots on this page, but you’d be sadly mistaken.”

Coyote: “I am pretty sure she gets dicked down all the time.”

Fanboy: “It’s like gru stealing the moon. Me robbing the subway.”

Payback: “Bang bang bang look at your piss”

Cyclone: “We get rid of those little shitheads.”

Warlock: “I never really thought of it but now I’m definitely not thinking of it.”

Hondo: “I hate people I don’t want people here.”

Penny: “Word from the wise, maybe wait a month before doing that in front of your roommate.”

[boredzillenial]

Day 21: of @flightlessangelwings fawktober!

The women are taking over the club, and Blue is all yours…

Themes: f!reader, Hate sex, mild violence (slapping, choking, pinning each other down, threats), pinv, creampie

A.N: As soon as I saw the prompt for this day I knew it would be Blue 😈 I did indulge with pullin a couple quotes from the movie - I just had to…

Tonight’s plans ran smoother than you could’ve imagined. The clients were gone, there were enough bouncers siding with the ladies for one reason or another, and you had managed to lock Blue in his office while the coop unfolded.

“This isn’t funny!” His incessant banging grated against your triumphant mood. “Whoever did this is gonna pay I’m warning you!”

The other ladies looked around nervously, their gazes eventually settling on you. You had become the organizer of this night and while they had shown great bravery already the scars Blue had left were more than skin deep. Looking over the group you gave a nod and a wicked grin “I’ve got him, gents just make sure he doesn’t leave that office when we open the door alright?” A couple of the large guards nodded and moved to stand behind you.

You took a deep breath to steel your nerves before unlocking and opening the door. Blue’s fury dampened at the sight of the two huge guards flanking you. “A word?” You say calmly and motioned to the office behind him. He straightened his tie with a huff and stepped aside. “Gentlemen, I’ll call for you if I need you. And remember, he doesn’t leave unless I say so.” The guards nod again and shut the door behind you.

“You think you really got me huh?” His voice dark and low as he paced back to his desk to the rather large glass of wine he’d been neglecting while banging for his freedom. He drank deep and nearly snarled at you with his next words, “So what now? You bitches really think you can take this place over?”

“Oh Blue” you tut while sauntering toward him “we already have.” A smile spread across your face as you slouched in his office chair. Well, your chair now…

He takes another deep drink, emptying his glass and leans in mere inches from you. “And you locked yourself in my office with no protection.” His head tilted as his anger seethed “Your first mistake.”

Holding his gaze you slowly stand, eye to eye and toe to toe. His anger roiled just below the surface at your boldness, and you reveled in it. “No Blue, your first mistake is threatening the new Lady of the House.” You place a hand on his shoulder and draw lazy lines through the rumpled fabric. “Well, maybe it’s actually this atrocious suit-“

Your insult cut short with his hand around your throat and slammed you down onto the desk. Your back hit the wood with a thud and your legs went wide as he slotted himself between them and stood over you “You think your cute huh?”

The office door burst open, your guards aiming their pistols at Blue. He jumped, snapped out of the spell his anger held him under and released his grip.

“Gentlemen, I’m fine.” You soothe as you sit up on an elbow and turn to them. “This is a hard adjustment for our friend here, he’s just processing. May we have the room?” The guards weary gazes flickered between the two of you. “I’ve got everything under control.” You reassure and wave them out with a flick of your wrist. They hesitate but do as their mistress asks and shut the door behind them. A wide grin spreads across your face as your gaze locks with Blue’s.

“You…. You dismissed them?” His confused tone and expression pulled a chuckle from your throat.

“Oh Blue, you’ve got no idea how much I’m protecting you do you?” You purr as you sit up slowly, pressing your thighs tight against his legs and your lips ghosting over his. “Those women out there want your head on a stick…” you touch the tip of his nose with yours “but I don’t like things to go to waste.”

“What are you playing at-“ he went to back away but your legs locked around his waist and pull him flush against you.

“You need to listen carefully Blue.” Your singsong tone edged with danger as you caressed his jaw. “Things have changed honey.” Deft fingers tightened on his jaw “The show might’ve been yours, but the girls and you, are mine.”

Fire danced behind his eyes as you threw words he’d often used against you and the other girls back at him. “You’d keep me around for what?”

“Why, you’re my toy honey…” your hand dropped slowly from his jaw, tracing lines down his jacket and rested across his stiffened length. “Well, this is anyway.”

He leaned forward, snatched your bottom lip between his teeth and bit just hard enough to draw blood. You gasped for a moment at the pain but threw your other hand around the back of his neck to keep him there. “You think that’s a smart idea?”

You hand around his cock works slowly over his belt and down his zipper to free him. “Probably not,“ He pulses in your hand as you pull your soaked panties aside and press the fat tip to your entrance. “But why throw away such a good fucktoy huh?” Your legs clenched around him pushing him to the hilt into your slick core.

His groan sounded almost pained as he pressed his forehead against yours “Always so fucking tight.” He murmured. You smirked despite your own uneven breathes and clenched down around the stretch eliciting a moan from both of you. His lips upturned in a snarl as he slapped you and gripped your throat. “You fucking -“

“Careful-“ you rest your hand over his. “You serve at my pleasure now…”

“Don’t worry I know exactly how you like it.” His hand remained around your throat as he pushed you flush against the desk and slammed into your heat. “Rough.” His grip tightened as the other found your clit and swirled around it at a frantic pace.

Your cries were muffled in your throat as you arched off the desk. Your orgasm matched the savagery of his pace as the edges of your vision darkened. A soft tap on his wrist and he slowed his tempo as he looked down at you with a smirk. He released your throat and leaned to nip at your shoulder, “Coming already?” He teased.

“You better hope so.” You grab his tie and pull him up till his lips met yours. The kiss was consuming, bruising as you pushed against him to sit up. “Get in the chair.” Your shove landed him back into the plush chair behind him.

He landed with a thud and a smirk that you were determined to wipe off his face. His girth stood glistening with your juices as he adjusted, and fucking waggled it at you. “Come on doll, it’s right here.”

“Blue…” your tone darkened as you straddled and sank onto him. You sighed at the stretch of him sinking into your channel again and whispered “You shake that at me again and I’ll let them cut it off.”

He smirked, grabbed your hips and bucked up hitting that delicious spot deep in your core. “You’d never.” His hips snapped at a punishing pace as you leaned your head back enjoying yourself. The sight of you bouncing over his cock almost had him coming.

Your head reeled from the pleasure and when you looked down anger roiled with that pleasure in your belly at the condescending smirk of his lips. You slapped him sharply and this time it was your hand around his throat while he fucked into you.

Another snarl replaced his grin as he pounded faster. “That’s, right,” you huff as he punches the air out of your lungs with his fervor. “Good, toy ah!”

His thumb found your clit again. You tightened your grip, his face blushed red from effort and loss of oxygen. All at once your orgasm ripped through your body sending you collapsing into him. His breathy laugh shifted to a wrecked groan as his own release filled your fluttering heat.

Exhausted and sweaty you pulled away, sitting upright and keeping him planted inside your cunt. You reached out and gripped his jaw almost painfully “You’re mine, and if you need a stronger reminder of that you let me know. Okay?”

————-

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[flamingspud]

Joel was banging his head against the desk. The winter exams had started that day, and he had forgotten just how stressful they were.

Joel tries to study for his winter exams, however his past is about to catch up with him.

Fic under the cut:

Joel was banging his head against the desk. The winter exams had started that day, and he had forgotten just how stressful they were. Maybe he had just lost his rhythm during fourth year.

Either way, he had spent the past week studying for maths and still he had struggled to get through the questions. Now, he was left trying to remember a bunch of English quotes in one night. Hooray.

As he threw his own little pity party in lieu of actually studying, his cousin sidled up to him.

"Why, hello there Joel!"

Joel groaned.

"How's studying treatin' ya?" Scar asked, leaning on the table and putting his face right in front of Joel's. "Getting you down?"

"Go away, Scar," he told the fifteen year old.

"No need to be rude!" Scar scolded, "and after I came in here to help!"

"And how do you plan to do that?" Joel asked, adjusting his head so that it was his chin resting on the table rather than his forehead.

"I could read the quotes to you with my melodic voice," Scar explained to the sixteen year old.

"Shouldn't you be studying for your own exams?" Joel snapped.

"I finished them last week," Scar said casually, "not that I had many."

Joel gave him the filthiest look. "Go away, Scar!"

"Aw, but you really helped me with my exams last year!" Scar said mockingly. 

So that's what this was about.

"Who even let you in?" Joel asked, pushing his head up off of the table.

"Grian." 

"Of course he did…”

Just then, the two heard the door to the apartment open, and in walked Jimmy.

“Hi Jimmy!” Scar greeted, as the eighteen year old took his coat off. 

“What are you two up to?” Jimmy asked.

Joel just gave him a death stare, and Scar chirped, “Joel’s studying!”

Jimmy smirked, much to Joel’s dismay, and made his way over to them. “Would you like some help?” He offered, though nothing about the way he said it was genuine. “You know, since you were so helpful to me last year?”

Joel was starting to see the error in his ways, but it was far too late to actually do anything about it as his relatives positioned themselves on either side of him.

“I would really appreciate it if you guys could leave me alone,” Joel informed them, but all he got was laughter.

“Nah, I’d rather hang out with my baby brother,” Jimmy responded, a grin stretched over his face.

Joel groaned, dropping his head back onto the table.

He wasn’t going to get those quotes memorised