#(right now i have like 15 extra credits or something and this course would be like 5 credits)

[purplepink-blueberry]

my love for academia is undying but oh god i am being tested

[megwritesriddles]

Redhanded ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 5 - Spanking. Reader is caught in the restricted section after curfew by none other than Head Boy Tom Riddle, notorious for his harsh punishments. But he has something else in mind, just for her.

Tags: Spanking, Impact play, Fingering, Dubious consent, Abuse of power, Head boy Riddle, Punishment, Under-negotiated kink, Degradation, Praise kink, Spit kink, Dom!Riddle, Sub!Reader, Teasing, Kinda fluffy right at the end.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 2.8k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: I went with my original idea for the plot of this one, meaning I'm still not sure what the plot for blackmail (day 15, also tom) will be!! I've had a few suggestions but I'm still open to more, send 'em in if you have them!! I personally found this one very hot, fingers crossed you agree!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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The night felt darker than usual, the moon and stars covered by a thick blanket of clouds. An early October chill ran throughout the castle, nothing unbearable, just enough to make you shiver periodically. Your fingers traced the spines of various old tomes, your lips pursed as you searched intently. In an attempt to counter the oppressive darkness, you squint to try and read the titles. Call it academic curiosity, that had led you into the restricted section in the middle of the night, but there might have been a little more than that behind it. You rounded the end of a row of bookshelves, continuing your search on the other side. You couldn’t seem to find what you were looking for, but it had to be here, it seemed incredibly unlikely that it would have been taken out by another student. Passes to the restricted section were handed out incredibly scarcely, and permission to borrow a book, to take it elsewhere in the castle where a younger student might come across it, was even more rare. You were lucky, the enchanted rope guarding the section didn’t have a concept of time, which they really should have realised by now. Using the pass that Slughorn had given you for your extra credit project you were able to get in semi-legitimately. Sure, you weren’t supposed to be here after curfew, but at least you did technically have permission to be here, just some other time. 

Several other books pique your interest as you search, but you still can’t find exactly the book you came for. You sigh quietly in frustration, watching the puff of air that comes from your mouth displace some dust on the shelf in front of you, rattling a nearby cobweb. Drumming your fingers against the dusty shelf and staring out of the filthy window, you try to think if you’ve missed anything. You’ve searched every related section up and down, even checking the small fiction section for the author’s name, just in case it was somehow incorrectly categorised, then you had tried the history section, wondering if the book was so old that it had been put there. No such luck, of course. What bothered you the most was the lack of any noticeable gaps anywhere in the shelves, suggesting that it shouldn’t be missing either. Had they removed it from the library? Why would they have? You’d come across several books that were more controversial or more out of date during your search. Why would they–?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the sudden voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Your blood runs cold, your whole body tenses painfully and you let out a little squeak. You whip around to find the owner of the voice, glaring. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you hiss, too high on adrenaline to assess if this was a good move. The owner of the voice, Tom Riddle, smirks ever so slightly at that before his face turns neutral again.

“My apologies, but you are breaking the rules quite callously, Miss,” he answers smoothly. He stands tall, hands clasped neatly behind his back, looking nothing short of unamused. In the dim lighting, he almost looks black and white, his Head Boy badge glinting on his chest. You frown at him.

“I’m allowed to be here,” you answer stupidly, because, no, you’re not actually and he knows it too. He raises a brow.

“You are, are you?” the corners of his lips twitch up. “And who, pray tell, gave you this permission?” he taunts, taking a measured step toward you. With a sigh, you present the permission slip from Slughorn to him. His hand comes from behind his back to take it from you, his fingers long and elegant. He inspects the pass. “There’s no stipulation here about nighttime visits,” he hums.

“Perhaps I misread,” you laugh anxiously. He gives you a look, telling you he isn’t buying this.

“We both know you’re too intelligent for that,” he drawls. You can’t help the slight smile that flashes over your face at the acknowledgement of your intelligence. He smiles too, but his smile feels predatory. The two of you don’t know each other well, never sharing classes or friendship circles. You’re peripherally aware of one another, having been in the same year group for the last seven years. Of course, these days, you’re more aware of him through his position as Head Boy. His patrols, his occasional speeches at dinners and his overall use as an example by many professors made it impossible to only be vaguely aware of him anymore. It flattered you slightly to realise he knew anything about you at all since he likely would have had to seek this information out on purpose. He hands you the slip back. “I’ll have to come to Slughorn about getting that slip taken from you, but as it is, I don’t have the authority to take it from you without his permission,” he talks slowly, you can tell he seems annoyed that he can not strip you of these privileges. “In the meantime, I can dish out punishment for being out after curfew, unless you have another permission slip you’d like to produce,”

“No,” you sigh and he smiles, nodding.

“Good girl,” he purrs. You glare at him for his condescending language, but neither of you misses the blush that blossoms on your cheeks. He just smiles. “Now, punishments…” he taps his chin mockingly. “Any suggestions?” you roll your eyes. Riddle was known among the student body for being fairly harsh in his punishments for those he didn’t wish to keep friendly with, usually only for networking reasons. You’d never been caught misbehaving by him before, you didn’t tend to misbehave much at all, just your luck that the one time you do, it’s him who catches you. You doubted strongly that he considered you a friend, and you didn’t have much to offer in the way of connections. You just purse your lips in annoyance, waiting for him to reveal how many hours you’d be doing in detention. He looks you up and down for a moment. “Do you like the idea of detention?” he asks, his voice low.

“No, obviously not,” you scoff. He inches closer. 

“What if I came up with an alternative punishment? A special one just for you…” He whispers, towering above you, you feel his breath fanning over your forehead. You wish you didn’t have to give him the satisfaction of tipping your head back to meet his eyes. You scrutinise him for a moment, taking in his subtle smirk. 

“Like what?”

“So many questions,” he tuts. “Yes or no? You can have your ten hours of detention if you really like,” he grins. Ten hours? That was just ridiculous, but you knew he wasn’t bluffing. He would find a way to write you up for that many hours if he really wanted to. You knew it was a trap, even as you walked right in.

“Yes, fine, alternative punishment,” you sigh in defeat. He takes ahold of one of your wrists, making you jolt slightly. He’s dragging you out of the library before your brain can catch up. He strides confidently through the halls, not a care in the world about being caught leading you around for whatever nefarious purposes he had. You discern after a little while that you’re being led to the Head’s dormitories. “Where are we going?” you try, but he ignores you, pulling you up to the portrait. He whispers something to it, too quiet for you to hear, and the portrait swings open. You don’t have much time to register your unfamiliar surroundings before he’s yanking you through the small common room down a hall and then into what you can only imagine is his bedroom. It’s quite large, especially for only one person. It’s about the size of the dorm that you have to share between five, with it’s own attached bathroom. You take a moment to take the room in when he lets go of your wrist, sitting himself on the edge of his bed and loosening his tie. There should have been loud alarm bells ringing in your mind, your feet should have been carrying you out of there, but your eyes are glued in awe on the crest carved into the wood of his door instead.

“Over my knee,” he commands lowly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“What?!” you gawk at him in shock. He grins.

“Over my knee, darling,” he repeats smoothly, eyes dark. You shake your head, your mouth opening and shutting in bewilderment. “Don’t make me drag you over here, this will be humiliating enough for you,”

“What- what about the Head Girl?” you squeak lamely, glancing back at the door. You feel a little tingle in your abdomen as his dark eyes remained fixed on you, promising to carry out this punishment.

“Hospital wing,” he answers simply, rubbing his thigh. You gawp again and he rolls his eyes. “Not my doing, honestly darling, what do you think I am?” he scoffs, although there's a discomforting glint in his eye. “Now, come here,” he growls. You don’t understand why you comply, walking over to him and hesitating before lowering yourself down over his thighs. You flush deeply at the realisation of what’s happening. He pushes your hair to the side, tilting your head so you’re looking up at him. “Aren’t you a good girl?” he coos, mockingly touching your overheated cheek. Your eyes are wide and worried, his thumb rubs your cheek just under your eye. “It’ll be over before you know it, darling,” His hand moves, wrapping around the back of your thigh, his thumb brushing the underside of your rear. You gasp. He chuckles, letting your head fall back down, your forehead hitting the mattress. He flips up your skirt and you squirm, blushing brightly. His fingertip traces the edge of your plain cotton underwear, light pink. “Cute, very like you,” he hums. You grumble shyly. His hand smooths over the swell of your ass, making you shiver. His other arm wraps around your shoulders to secure you. “Let’s do fifteen, shall we?” he doesn’t wait for an answer.

His hand collides with your rear with a loud smack, jolting you forward slightly. You whimper at the pain but find oddly that there’s a sensation blooming in the pit of your stomach, a pleasant incessant feeling as he delivers a couple more smacks. He pauses for a moment, rubbing his hand gently over you, feeling the warmth that blooms where he’s hit, gripping greedily at your flesh. You find yourself moaning softly. Thwack, thwack, thwack. He delivers a few more. With each one, the feeling is more pleasant, your skin tingling under his ministrations. He takes a moment, gently rubbing up and down your back, almost like he’s soothing you. He feels you rising and falling with your sharp breaths under his hand. He administers a few more spanks again, a little harder now, but you don’t mind much. You’re mortified at how much you’re liking this. This should be painful and humiliating, and it is, yet you’re loving it. His hand rests on your backside lightly for a moment and find yourself keening and pushing yourself back into his hand. He laughs in disbelief.

“Oh darling, you’re liking this aren’t you?” he taunts, smacking you once more. He shifts slightly and then chuckles deeper, noticing a dark wet patch on your underwear. “You’re really liking this,” his hand settles between your cheeks, rubbing at your clothed heat. You whimper and arch your back. “You’re soaking darling,” he coos. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re a whimpering mess,” he moves his hand up to pull down your underwear, it peels slowly away from your core, the cool air hitting your wetness and making you shiver. He uses both hands to grip you, spreading you gently open for his eyes. You whine and grip the sheets. “Naughty girl…” he purrs, watching as you twitch. “So needy,” he spits onto your cunt, making you shiver as the cool spit trickles down you. “I always had a feeling you’d like this, but darling, I could have never guessed what dirty girl you are,” you moan at his words, hating how true they are. His fingertip comes to gently tease against your folds. You push back against him desperately. He withdraws his hand and gives you another firm smack as a punishment. “Needy little whore can’t even wait a second, can she?” he chastises, gripping the flesh of your ass harshly. You sob in desperation, you’ve never felt so needy in your life. You’re willing to beg. You’ve never felt like this before.

“Please, please, need your fingers,” you pant like you’re in heat. For a moment, nothing happens, and you let out another sob. But then, like mercy from God, his middle finger laves through your folds once more. It simply strokes up and down for a little while, focusing fleetingly on your sensitive nub before tracing around your entrance, making you whimper desperately. After he’s satisfied that you’re about to tear up with desperation, he slowly eases his finger in. You mewl, arching your back, your entire face flushed. He drags the tip of his finger against your inner walls, mapping you out, getting to know all your favourite spots. His finger pumps slowly in and out, making soft squelches. He breathes raggedly above moving his free hand to press against your burning cheek, cupping your chin gently. You look up at him, your eyes glazed over with need and he looks pleased. 

“You’re beautiful, naughty girl,” he exhales, carefully pressing his ring finger into you as well, starting to pump a bit faster, watching as your lips part with soft wanton noises. “You’ve taken your punishment so well,” he soothes, the heel of his palm smacking against you as he fucks you on his fingers. You whine in response, eyes locked on his. The sight of him looking at you so lustfully drives you crazy, bringing your orgasm closer by the second. He rubs his thumb against your lips as you jolt back and forth with the force of his thrusts. He presses the pad of it against your bottom lip and you take the cue, drawing him into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thumb, moaning desperately around it. “Perfect obedient little slut,” he growls, his fingers moving faster inside you. Slick noises fill the room along with your muffled moans. Your eyes roll back. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Give in to me,”

“Tom!” you gasp around his thumb, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm, white-hot heat exploding in your belly. You pulse around his fingers and he grins, working you through it slowly. Your eyes slip shut and you lean heavily against his hand that cups your cheek, struggling for breath. He withdraws his fingers slowly, making you whine softly. He turns you over slightly, pressing his slick fingers into your mouth. You flush, accepting them onto your tongue and tasting yourself, looking up at him with big vulnerable eyes. He withdraws his fingers, pressing them into his own mouth, sucking them clean with a pop, smirking down at you. The shame is washing over you as you lie there, realising what you’ve done, how you’ve acted. You feel mortified, but Riddle is manoeuvring you to sit on his lap, bringing his lips to yours. Your rear stings as you settle onto his lap, but he kisses you affectionately, exchanging the taste of you between your mouths. 

“You’ll stay here tonight, you’re bound to get caught if you head out at this hour,” he mumbles between kisses. You pull back, tilting your head questioningly. “You don’t want another punishment, do you, naughty girl?” he teases, his hands settling onto your waist. “Other people’s punishments may not be as fun as mine,” you blush and scoff a small laugh, looking down at the ground. He brushes his knuckle against your still-flushed cheek. “Well… Did my punishment work? Are you going to be breaking the rules again?” he teases, pulling you down to lie on the bed with him. You’re surprised by this softer side of him, you’d caught a few glimpses of it as he’d been pleasuring you, but you’ve never seen him like this before. It’s like he likes you, and he never likes anyone.

“Only if I know it’ll be you catching me,” you whisper shyly, unsure how he’ll react. He just chuckles, pulling you into his embrace.

“Oh, I will make sure no one else ever catches you again, darling,”

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hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[controversially-young-girlfriend]

read me like a book 💌prof. spencer reid x reader

💋 office hours with your fav professor. oneshot smut with softdom spencer and praise 💋

you’re prone to skipping an occasional lecture - 9am is just too early to be up! you’re a week ahead on your developmental psych notes! but you’ve never missed a class with dr. spencer reid.

as much as you enjoy the course content (and actually do the required readings) your mind goes blank once professor reid enters the lecture hall and his words fade into the background as you admire his curly hair and soft eyes. you’re almost mad he’s so hot because your lack of focus just landed you a C+ on your recent essay. you’re embarrassed not at your own academic efforts but rather the effect he has on them.

as usual, you doll yourself up before heading to class and take a seat right in the middle where dr. reid tends to lay his eyes while lecturing.

after the heard of girls auditing the class finish talking to professor reid, you approach the front of the class to ask about your essay.

you’ve always loved talking to him after class, getting a few minutes of one-on-one time with him. he’s different when not lecturing, and has an endearing awkwardness that you’ve become infatuated with. you loved when a simple question turned into what felt like a personal lesson.

“hi dr. reid, i’m wondering if i could discuss my recent essay with you?”

“definitely, however i think the next class is starting in a few minutes. would you be okay to discuss it in my office?” he tells you and you feel yourself get hot. you’ve talked to him plenty of times but never in his office, your mind immediately fantasizing about all the things you’ve imagined him doing to you in there.

you try and remain composed on the walk there, making small talk to not let any signs of your schoolgirl crush on him show.

he opens the door for you, closing it before walking over to his desk. you hand him the essay and feel your heart flutter when your fingers grace each others briefly. you try your best to follow the feedback he’s adding in red pen but you’re transfixed on the way he’s moving his hands.

you snap out of it when he softly says your name, “i hope you’re not discouraged by the grade. you’re a smart girl.” you hope he doesn’t notice how hard you’re blushing at him calling you smart.

“i know you understand the concepts but your analysis needs to remain objective. i would have given you a B if you stayed closer to the assignment outline.”

the feedback is fair but you’re worried about your gpa. “is there anyway to do some extra credit or raise my grade?”

dr. reid tells you “come see me back here before the next assignment is due and we’ll go through it together.”

you’re grateful but dreading the end of this conversation and having to leave his office.

“thanks professor reid! i really enjoy these post-lecture conversations.” you know your words are implying something more, but you’re wondering if it shows.

dr. reid replies “me too.”

you guys make eye contact until he looks to the left and takes a deep breath. “by the way, most student-teacher relationships end horribly. not to mention they’re pretty explicitly banned in the contract i signed to guest lecture here.”

“oh my god oh um i’m sorry i didn’t mean to say anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“don’t worry, you didn’t say anything. i think you just forgot that i make a career out of profiling people.” dr. reid tells you with a slight smile on his face

“so what gave it away then?”

“you’ve been blushing for the last 15 minutes and stumbling over your words despite being a normally eloquent student in class. you’re leaned into me talking right now and i’ve caught you staring at me multiple times.” he says while smiling. you’re relieved he’s not mad, but can’t quite identify his intentions of telling you this.

“well professor reid, you’re good at your job. but like you said i’m a smart girl, so it’s only fair i get to profile you back.”

you can tell you caught his attention with that, feeling him getting a bit nervous but leaning in to hear what you have to say. your legs are now touching as you list the little traits of his you’ve noticed all semester.

“you have a whole fan club of girls who come to your lectures and wait to talk to you. do you give all of them the student-teacher relationship talk? or am i just getting special treatment?”

he puts his hand on your thigh. “do you wear skirts this short when you talk to your other professors.” you’re shocked at how far he’s going but you don’t want him to stop.

“you’re easy to read, princess. i know when you’re sitting in my lectures and thinking about me. you subtly bite your lip and stare, and i can only imagine what you’re fantasizing about. i’d guess you get off on me being your older professor, me fucking you bent over my desk as i tell you how how you’re such a pretty little slut for me.”

is he a profiler or a mind reader? you don’t want to let him win but he looks at you self-satisfied and starts talking before you can think of a reply.

“and i’d place my job on the line that you’re wet just hearing that.”

“well professor reid, i’ll leave it to you to prove your theory.”

reid pushes up your skirt and feels your soaked panties. you watch him smile before pulling you into his lap and kissing you.

the makeout deepens as he grabs your waist, slowly guiding it to grind against him as his tongue is in your mouth. you hold him by the hair until he leans back to look at you. through heavy breaths he says “i’ve been thinking of you since i saw you in my first lecture.”

he takes your shirt and bra off, moving kissing your lips, down to your neck, and then down to your chest. you take off his cardigan and begin working on his button up shirt, leaving you both shirtless against eachother. “you’re so beautiful like this.” he tells you.

you feel him adjust your legs to take off your skirt and panties. slowly teasing his fingers at your entrance, he quickly dips a finger in just to tell you “you’re so wet, so desperate for me pretty girl.” as you try and rub against his hand for contact. he’s right, you need him badly right now.

dr. reid rubs circles on your clit and you let out a soft moan. he watches your face as he slips his fingers inside. “fuck you’re good, dr. reid.” you can tell being called by the honorific turns him on by the way he gripped you tighter and sighed. he takes his fingers out from inside you and pushes them into your mouth. you give him a show, looking him right in the eyes as you work your tongue around them. “you’re such a slut for me, baby.” you’re shocked that this sort of dirty talk is coming from your nerdy, cardigan wearing professor.

he pulls his fingers out and you unbuckle his belt. you palm him which earns a slight moan out of reid. “seems like you want me just as bad” you tell him. you pull down his boxers and he grabs your hair into a ponytail. with his other hand he lifts your chin slightly to ask, “well how bad do you want me?” you immediately begin going down on him, eager to impress.

you’re blissed out listening to the praises coming from him between the heavy breaths. “so pretty baby”, “taking me so well”

he lifts your head up, “wanna bend over the desk, sweetheart?” you gladly agree, anticipating him as he grips your hips and plants a kiss on your neck.

he’s big but you’re savouring every inch of professor reid inside of you. thrusting slowly as you adjust to the feeling. he speeds up as he talks you through it, “such a cute little slut sitting in my lectures imagining me fucking you like this. you feel so fucking good baby.” you begin to unravel with pleasure.

you can barely form a sentence but manage to ask “have a thing for fucking college girls, professor reid?” you say between moans.

he thrusts into you harder and positions his mouth right beside your ear, “just the ones who come into my office in short skirts to seduce me.”

you guys won’t last much longer, he feels your core tightening around him. “i want to watch you cum for me.” he tells you.

you unravel in his arms, with him finishing soon after. he holds you in his arms as you catch your breath. “maybe your profile was right about me, dr. reid” you say to him lightheartedly.

“you can call me spencer. although there is a definite appeal to being called dr. in this context” he says.

you help rearrange the papers on his desk that were pushed off earlier and get dressed again.

“um don’t worry about your essay grade. if you ever want to do this again perhaps i can count it as extra credit.” he smiles and tells you.

“i’d love that. i’ll be here after every lecture.” you say with a massive smile on your face.

he kisses you once more, “now go study. i’ll see you next week.”

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love? 

                            Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week. 

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught. 

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out. 

Oh no. 

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too. 

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack. 

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.” 

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes. 

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name. 

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” 

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again. 

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics. 

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours. 

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around. 

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance. 

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along. 

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-” 

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”  

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries. 

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump. 

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry. 

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.” 

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit. 

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change. 

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips. 

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop. 

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

            all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek. 

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm. 

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.  

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself. 

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible. 

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real. 

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again. 

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist 

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs. 

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,” 

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?” 

“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.”  He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours. 

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.” 

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

[the-firebird69]

Some hanging out with Mom you just helping me and she have to go get a bike and she likes doing that cuz I haven't he bites at Walmart with her kids she like that we recommend an extra battery so he doesn't get stuck somewhere since Brian. The smiling and how much I achieve and a 400 bucks or something like that and you have a credit card oh good so probably pay the credit card eventually oh and I want to get my money or some money reverse the code.

And that was my husband and we are working on stuff a lot of it is already happening and some of it is new yeah I'll figure it out that these guys figuring out how to show people they're doing work on things and the old wood that was holding this place up for display but it is not good enough just to replace that. We're experiencing changes here and it's slow and it's not very massive and the clothes have not escalated the diamonds from the Gulf nope they don't have to this diamonds elsewhere and people will figure that out and they're forcing everyone into them and it's horrible it's gross and the guys an idiot that is people will go to the job unless he starts calling it out. It's a few things happening here that are causing quite a bit of damage to their realm and one thing that's happening is there's a massive amount of interest in my husband and what he's doing tons of people are trying to figure it out no clueless he's just sitting there talking it's like well why is he valuable in is he yapper like you so they can't stand it and they start yapping. It's a huge huge number of people who are heading towards Florida right now it is a giant crowd surround 300 octillion up at the northern border and yeah there's seven or eight directions Central Florida and it's going to get ugly there's about 15 comments per second out here and then all negative and a whole bunch of animals it's very detestable you detected with yourself in Port Charlotte and decide you should probably come here to light it up it's kind of difficult still but we're working on it

700 trillion people out to northern border and even saying octillion and it has been numbers like that but including the bunkers City like New York and all the outskirts and suburbs and the cloning bunkers and everything would be about 600 I'll tell him and that's because in the colonial facilities they don't have floors the whole way down the bunker would not be able to hold it up and structurally wouldn't be able to hold the weight of all those people and machines each floor is like a couple miles it's still plenty for it and it's a lot of weight and the structural members take up a huge bunch of it and last times we found the foundation to be very very thick it would sink like a foot a year no it's like 5 ft a year and everything above it started shaking your horrified but it's way too heavy and it wasn't spread out enough some of them had calculated it but there's a lot of people in there and even so on the surface of New York the whole state might have like three octillion people so the numbers are skewed you just knocked off couple zeros and it's kind of accurate but here the number of workers are accurate Charlotte county has a ton of shares now but has to see it's not enough and you can't even recording off put the Gorda with like a thousand cop cars and 2,000 cops you can't so but there's a lot of things happening tonight

-The invasion is prepping this huge numbers at five points I'm just going to be huge numbers of the fleet and it's going to be a failure of course and there's a few reasons that will fail but mostly it's because of ill poor designs. There's too many people hardly any of them are skilled warriors or fighters and they're not military trained mostly and if they are it's just to be a wise ass some a****** looking for a fight or something and they get creamed quite fast and it happens here a lot they challenge people all the time to get killed. But it is going on tonight too that the warlock is going to try and inside people and try and start stuff and they get hit and killed and tons of them died. The fleet should arrive and it's going to depart shortly making it 8 hour arrival self-departs at 7:00 p.m. and it will be 3:00 a.m. and then the rest of the fleet takes about 5 hours so 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning will be very large fleet offshore it's about half the size of the last one thus far but we think that they're going to raise more and increase the size and we think so because we hear them calling and asking for it they say they have plans and they haven't done anything that's remarkable or suitable there's an empire fleet up there and your feet is not doing squat. Way down there about 6% of the total population just still a lot of people that's a ton of people but eventually it won't be this continuous invasion crap and the master building up and we are too have to build up in case there's some kind of offensive and you're not big enough yet their forces invaded so it's going on like that. Fairly soon people are going to see everything they're doing and we think it will be tomorrow or the day after and what they're doing is very ugly.

My husband's waiting to pay the rent and Sherry can't get a hold of Stan and he's around somewhere, ducking it with him and she thinks so and she's working on it

There's a huge number of people who upset with their performance and they say you need to fleet you need air power you didn't listen and you're idiots and BJ is losing his people and it's in proportion. He's just not very bright and they're leaving because they're getting kicked out and you know it's kind of neck and neck with what's happening here at this time the percentages are about the same they went a little far here and they choke back on it but here's another thing we are starting projects and we started 15 out of the 20 that were awarded today we're down on site only junk out this site with the tractors on it behind Walmart is going to be a bear refuse to move their equipment and they say if we tow it then people get hurt so we might try and tow it tonight with a bunch of people and cops shut down the roads and the whole area is going to be cleared like every tree and accept a tree line between Walmart no all that stuff's coming out because it's all kind of junky crappy trees in the whole site is going to be built up they made a mess okay and we don't want them out there. But 10 are the 15 are almost cleared of junk and tomorrow we will clear it and fill it not very Big lots worms big it's like 2x2 miles but it's not that big and the other major projects are rolling ahead that are outside of Charlotte county and I said 15 projects were awarded some of them are very big but they're not over two by two miles even by Harley-Davidson that lot is about well it is a little bigger 3x4 okay but the New lots are bigger the ones with Babcock ranch it's like 10 miles by 5:00 and that's huge and we're putting in 5:15 and about 7-5,000 I'll tell you what my husband's lived in the city a little but nothing like that that's a real City and we don't really need them in there they come concentrated Mac possibly but he needs to be able to afford it and it's more money. She's trying to raise his hand up and wondering if he knows what it means he does. I was trying to roll in the Chinese American motorcycles but we're waiting for China they're making $100,000 and they're going to release 20,000 actually in each time that they can get the ships out right now they can't they can only do it after the police defeated and they have to fly out here with it and pretty much they have to leave the ship so we said we'll just purchase the ship and then when it gets here and when you do that they say they can do it they don't really want to sell the ship but we can build them a new one it's probably better to build them another one. Some of the things are happening we're getting in tune to the warlock and crowd of assholes here who are bothering our son I need my husband and I'm kind of jerks same old crap and boy has a low level nonsense. And there's a whole bunch of people but one around wondering why they're doing it? Assholes. Now there's several things going on and trying and reporting it now and he doesn't want to do any of it not alcoholic beer makes me feel sick and the cigarettes and cigar or whatever just makes me feel sick.

We're rolling on several things and it's got a huge project going and he's not touching it right now and he doesn't want to and it's only trying to inspire and get people going because he's kind of trapped yep and there are other projects Saturn and Neptune still on going and pretty sure I'm pretty soon it'll be Uranus coming up next month in the middle of the month I'm right in a row I have something to do with the planets aligning and some message. We are working very diligently we do need people and personnel we are low and personnel we are tapped out actually our manufacturing has slowed we had to hire for military to prepare for a backlash from this round of firings and other that's occurring and please if you have any time please sign up we have another planet coming and each planet has to have their own crew and they are gigantic each ship is assigned to a clan and you might want to check and see if you're assigned to one it's already gone through because we still are feeding them out or you might want to check one that is coming out and I thank you very much for listening

Hera mostly me above all of it

Zues

Have several announcements we're going to publish this now

Thor Freya

Olympus

[ilyjohnb]

a/n: I decided to try my hand at a 3+1. I also started posting these on my AO3. FYI, JJ is not abused in this one and it does not follow any of the plot from the show.   **gif credit to @ptersparkers**

requester: anon “hiii!! :) could you do “Can I stay here tonight?” with john b please? :)”

summary: to simply put it, your home life sucks. you had managed to hide it from the pogues, until one night when things got really bad and you needed to stay the night at john b’s.

warnings: abuse, child abuse, swearing, slut-shaming

word count: 1997

~~ONE~~

John B was the first one to realize that something wasn’t right with you and your home life. You were all 10, and it was lunchtime. You were all sitting down at the table. John B was on your left. Pope, Kie, and JJ were on the other side in that order. 

“I hate school. This place sucks ass.” JJ laughed.

Kie smiled. “At least the food is good.”

“Just barely though!” Pope shouted, making the other four laugh.

“I like school.” You mumbled and slightly frowned. You subconsciously rubbed the bruise on your left forearm that your mom gave you the previous night because you forgot to take the trash out. School was the only place where you didn’t have to worry if your mother was going to be drunk or high out of her mind, and it was the only time where you didn’t have to cook for yourself either.

John B heard you though, and he noticed the bruise when your sleeve moved up from you rubbing your arm. He could see it clear as day, on your forearm there was a nasty purple bruise the size of your hand that wrapped around all the way.

You didn’t notice John B staring, but you did notice the bruise peeking out. You quickly slid your sleeve back down and focused on your mashed potatoes.

~~TWO~~

He never confronted you about that time, he didn’t even know how he would start. He eventually began picking up on your signs that you were nervous. He may not be as smart as Pope, but John B was far from dumb. He noticed how you would tense at even the mention of your mom or home. His next major clue was when you all were 15. 

“Hello, Y/n.”

You nervously took a breath, trying to read the situation. “Hi, mom.”

“Guess what you didn’t do? You left here for two days and didn’t even clean the dishes before you left.”

As she stepped closer to you, you could smell the alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get started right away.”

“Punishment first, girl.”

“Mom, please. I’m sorry it was an accident and it won’t happen again.”

She just smiled evilly. “Nothing to do now or take it. You get it now, or it doubles.”

Your hand began to shake. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked over and punched you right in the stomach. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you bit on your lip so you could hold in your whimper. She kicked you this time and shoved you to the floor. She punched you one last time in the eye before grabbing you by your hair, using her knee to hold down your right arm.

“Open your eyes. Now, do you remember what you said earlier?”

You nodded, before opening your mouth to speak, a hoarse whisper came out that you barely even recognized to be your voice. “It won’t happen again.”

After that, you washed the dishes, before going to bed. You waited until she left the next morning to sneak out. You had promised the Pogues a day on the boat. It would be John B’s first time to drive it without his dad, Big John, there too. You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. 

A big bruise was prominent on your stomach, another on your eye, and one more on your forearm. You put on the one two-piece bathing suit that you owned with a huge oversized shirt over that. You tied your bandana on your arm to hide that bruise. For your eye, you’d just have to come up with some lie.

You didn’t live that far from JB, so you took a nice walk. It was nice until you got to John B’s. You walked in the door, expecting to see all of your best friends, but the only person was Big John. He was sitting on the chair, so he saw you walk in.

“Y/n! How are you doing?” You loved John B’s dad. He reminded you a lot of Heyward, Pope’s dad. They both adored you, and you and your friends treated them as if they were all your dads.

“I’m doing pretty good.” You smiled, lying.

“Oh yeah?” You nodded. “Then what happened to your eye.”

“You know me, I got into a fight. Where's everyone at?”

“They’re in the boat, waiting for you. See you all when you get back. And for the love of God, don’t let my son kill you all.”

“Yes sir!” You laughed and went out the back door. You quickly stuck your head back in. “See you Pops!”

You started running down the dock, smiling at your friends. “Is that a wild Y/n/n I see?”

“Yes, it is, JJ. I’m a wild spirit who refuses to be tamed.”

He smiled back at you, holding out his hand to help you in the boat. You saw his eyes flick up to your bruised one. He didn’t ask any questions. You went and sat down as John B steered you all into swimmable waters. He put out the anchor, and then everyone didn’t hesitate to throw their shirts off and jump in. All except you and John B.

“Not getting in, Y/n/n?”

“Not feeling it today. You’re not getting in?”

“I went surfing this morning, so I’m a little sore. What happened to your eye?”

“Fight with a kook.”

You looked down at your bandana and noticed that it was becoming loose. You waited until you were certain he looked away before taking it off and refolding it. You were in your own world, trying to match the folds up exactly. He looked over and saw the bruise. He was almost certain that he knew what was happening to you. He thought it was what happened to you at home, but a fight with a kook was extremely possible too. He looked away quickly and didn’t mention it.

~~THREE~~

By this time, he knew. He may not have gotten confirmation with you, but John Booker Routledge knew that his best friend was getting abused by her mom. He knew he’d have to confront you eventually. He wanted to help you get out of that situation.

This time happened six weeks later. He dropped you off at your door with the promise that he’d walk with you in the morning, to take you for breakfast.

“See you in the morning John B.” You don’t know what came over you, but you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. You turned and walked in your front door before he could see the small blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

“So now you’re a slut? Makes sense I only see you hanging out with those three boys. Didn’t I raise you better, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely confused. Wrong move on your part.

“I think you heard me loud and clear. I saw you kissing that boy, you slut.”

“Mom, no. I swear it was just a friendship thing.” You lied, you did have a crush on John B but your mom didn’t need to know that.

She had enough, shoving you back into the wall. You don’t know what came over you, but you did it. You finally did it. For once in your life, you fought back. You kicked out your leg, knocking her down. She reached over and hit you in the eye, grabbing at your neck. She began to try to choke you, but you brought your leg up to kick her square in the chest. She let you go, the wind knocked out of her.

You took the opportunity and ran. You put your hood up and kept your head down. You didn’t even have to look up, it was like muscle memory at this point. You walked around the house to his window, before knocking.

“Y/n?”

“Hi John B.” You weakly smiled, urgency evident in your voice. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah of course Y/n/n, come on in.”

He helped you in his window before quietly tiptoeing out of his room. You awkwardly sat down on his bed, and he soon came back with a bag of ice.

“For your eye.” you almost forgot. “I know what happened.”

“Yeah, kooks are vicious at night and-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off. “Stop lying. I dropped you off at your house at 11:30, and you don’t typically go out after that. At least not by yourself. I know you. Just let me help you, me and dad can help get you away from your mom.” He pleaded.

“I came here to stay the night, not be met with false accusations.”

“Are they really false though?” He asked.

You sat there, opening your mouth in search of an answer. He had that look on his face, the same one he made when he won. You didn’t want him to win, at least no right now. You stood up and walked towards the window. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You quickly choked out and answer. 

“I’m going to stay at JJ’s. Good night John B. Thank you for the bag of ice.”

He didn’t know why he let you go, but he felt horrible. He was so close to getting the truth out of you, but he was worried if he kept pressing he’d scare you away. He decided he’d wait extra time before asking you again.

~~ + ONE~~

You had finally decided that you had enough. You didn’t want to deal with your mom anymore. 12 years. That’s how long your mother used you as a punching bag. It started after your dad left when you were 4, and you were 16 now. You had waited until your mom drank until she blacked out before you tossed as much stuff that you could into your duffle bag, packing more in your backpack. You tied the laces of your one pair of sneakers together and threw them over your head. You slipped on your flip-flops and left, with your head held high and not looking back.

You texted John B, asking if you could come over. It was 2 am but you were ready to go. As if he could read your mind, John B said you could. You ran faster than you’d ever had. When you got there John B sat with his window open, waiting for you. He took your bag and helped you in the window. You slipped the shoes off your neck and sat down on his window sill.

“You were right.” You told him.

He was holding your face in his, searching for injuries. “About what, bubba?”

“My mom and my home life. How long have you known?”

“I first noticed when we were 10. We were at lunch, you said that you liked school after we were all complaining about it, you had rubbed your arm and your sleeve rolled up and I saw a bruise. Why did you never say anything before? I could’ve helped you get out of there so much sooner.”

You sighed. “I knew it was bad, but I was embarrassed. Do you remember that one day on the boat like a year ago? When I wouldn’t go swimming? It was because my mom beat the absolute shit out of me the night before. And then there was that day I asked to stay the night, I was all sweaty from running and my eye was bruised. It was from my mom, but that was the first day I fought back. I left tonight because of you. Thank you John B.”

You were both staring into each other’s eyes, and he slowly leaned in. You leaned in too, to speed it up. And you kissed. You eventually told the other pogues, your mom got arrested, and you and JB started dating. You finally got out of the home all thanks to John B.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅 (𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong tried to focus on the screen in front of him, but the tight and throbbing ache inside his pants was too much to handle at this point. He had tried to ignore it for the past 15 minutes, but the urge just kept growing as his mind began filling with dirty images of you, underneath him, squirming and shivering as he pounded into you.

His hand lingered a little too high on his thigh. He could just indulge in a little fantasy.......but why do that when reality was sweeter? With no hesitation, he picked up his phone and instantly dialed your number.

"Joongie?" You answered.

"Baby...." Hongjoong breathed out, almost panting at hearing your sweet voice say his name.

"Be ready for me. I'm coming over in 10 minutes. You know exactly how I want you: clothes off and legs spread.....

See you soon..." You heard him chuckle lowly.

❥��𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

You sat in front of your dresser. Having already brushed your teeth and washed your face, you were currently brushing your hair out, listening to the sound of your boyfriend hum softly on the bed behind you.

You could see him on the mirror in front of you. He had been eyeing you a lot, shifting positions every now and then. Occasionally, he'd send a wink or blow a kiss toward you, making you blush or giggle softly. It's not that you were being oblivious, you knew exactly what he wanted. You were just waiting for him to tell you directly.

Sighing blissfully as he admired your beauty, he finally decided it was time to tell it to you straight. Making sure you were looking at him, he called out:

"Babe?"

"Hmm?" You answered.

Seonghwa smirked and patted the spot in between his legs.

"Come over here and get into bed with me. I want to make love to you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho had his large hands wrapped around your waist all throughout the movie. His chin rested on top of your shoulder and he'd occasionally place tiny kisses on the side of your neck.

His fingers poked at your ticklish spots, making you giggle and slap his hands away, but they'd always end up crawling back on your body. Soon enough, Yunho's fingers began to delicately draw figures on your thighs, slowly beginning to travel further and further up, getting closer and closer to your core. His other hand was busy pulling your sleeve down, exposing your shoulder as he pressed chaste kisses on the top.

He then shifted you on his lap, making you bite your lip when he rolled his hips and let you feel the tent that was formed on his pants. Lifting you up, he turned you so you were straddling his lap, his eyes looking at you with desire and yearning.

"Baby? Won't you let me make you feel good?"

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang felt shy and embarrassed every time he felt needy. It always took him some time to muster up the courage to tell you he wanted to get intimate. But you picked up on the little signs he'd give you.

He came up behind you while you were washing dishes. At first he just eyed you curiously. Then he hugged you from behind, his face hidden in your hair, inhaling your scent that did nothing more than arouse him even further. When you turned around, he held you in place and began pressing tiny kisses to your lips every 4 seconds. You chuckled when you finally realized what he was doing.

"Sangie......is there something you wanna tell me?" You teased him as you pulled him by his belt loops.

Yeosang groaned softly when you purposefully rolled your hips against his. He looked at you and saw you smirking. He knew you wanted him to tell you that he was needy and wanted you.

Blushing intensely, his voice was barely audible as he asked you:

"C-can we.....?" He looked at you with hopeful eyes, giggling out of embarrassment.

You smiled endearingly at him as you took his hand and guided him to your bedroom.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

Your boyfriend had a thing for being extra, and that included any scenario involving you two under the sheets of your bed. So you weren't fazed when you came home one night and found all the lights turned off. Candles were lit on the floor, creating a trail along with scattered flower petals that led to the bedroom.

"Oh my god." You couldn't help but chuckle, your mouth coming up to stiffle them as you took in the scene in front of you:

San was sprawled out across the bed, rose in his mouth as he looked at you with the most seductive face he could muster. He was completely nude but had a few rose petals around his hips, effectively drawing attention to the massive boner he had.

Taking the rose out of his mouth, he winked at you.

"Care to join me in a little.....romantic rendezvous?" He blew a kiss at you, making sure to use his satoori voice that made you melt completely.

Although you rolled your eyes at how cheesy he was, you didn't hesitate to strip yourself of your clothes. San couldn't keep his eyes off you the entire time. Licking his lips as he watched the final garment fall to the floor, he groaned.

"God babe. You're so gorgeous."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi couldn't help himself as he stared at your body. You were working out and that didn't make it any easier for him. The way your ass looked in those leggings, especially every time you squat down made him picture all the times he's fucked you from behind and spanked your ass red. Or the way your chest bounced while you were doing jumping jacks, made him fantasize about you riding him.

He could no longer hold back. Leaving his place in the kitchen, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips placed hot, steamy kisses along your neckline.

"Baby...you're driving me crazy."

You moaned softly when his teeth grazed your earlobe and his large hands began slipping inside your pants.

"I know a much better workout." He chuckled in your ear.

As soon as you gave him an affirmative response, he hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way to the bedroom and make sure you were left a sweaty mess.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

He lived for teasing you. Not only to get a reaction out of you or to simply annoy you, he also loved teasing you to get you sexually frustrated. Even if he was hot and bothered, Wooyoung refused to openly admit he wanted your help.

Instead, he liked to tease you and have you begging for him. Of course it worked the first few times, but afterwards, you decided it was time for him to beg for you instead.

"What's wrong Wooyoung?" You asked when he came up to you.

You smirked as you watched him gulp. You had been ignoring all his attempts at trying to seduce you and he was now at his breaking point, you knew it.

Taking a deep breath, he cupped your cheeks.

"I want you. Ok?"

Leaning in slowly, you brushed your lips against his, making him whine when you pulled back as he tried to capture your lips in a kiss. It was a lot more fun to have him frustrated.

"Tell me Woo....how do you want me?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You knew by the way Jongho gripped the steering wheel that something was going on with him. When one of his hands dropped to your thigh and began squeezing it gently, it only confirmed what you were suspecting. You just allowed him to keep tugging at your thigh, knowing fully well he would be too shy to actually tell you himself.

"Jongho....you know if you want to..." You hinted by lacing your hand in his.

Jongho inhaled deeply and breathed out sharply.

"Baby, I'm driving right now." He merely stated yet didn't pull his hand away.

You smirked at him when you noticed something.

"There's a rest area right over there."

And that's how Jongho ended up swerving out of the road and parking the car under one of the shades.

"Get in the backseat baby." He ordered you as he began to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[newswcanonprompts]

Anakin is sent to negotiate with Gardulla the Hutt bc of the success of the Jabba mission (no one in the Council knows Gardulla used to own him)

editor’s note: there is actually a fic that came from this, by the lovely @primeemeraldheiress! here is the link

this one is SUPER angsty, sorry in advance, i missed the original conversation about this prompt and when i got back online everyone was yelling about it, when i read what they did i was in *shock*. like ow. anyways have fun

After being so helpful in rescuing Jabba the Hutt's son, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up being sent on a mission to help Gardulla the Hutt because Anakin hasn't told anyone about his history with her

Possible reactions from Gardulla:

"Skywalker? I owned a human like that, her brat always caused trouble. Good riddance!"

What if she decides that since he's back in her territory that means he belongs to her again

.....gardulla hears him try to call obi-wan master and tries to buy anakin from him (Gardulla asking if obi-wan is anakin's master and anakin being in such a messed up mental space that he says yes, trusting that Obi-wan won’t let her buy him)

Obi-Wan wondering why Anakin is being so specifically arsey with this Hutt. "Force you're worse with her than you were with Jabba."

"Oh yeah, she bought me and my mother. I think I have a reason to dislike her."

The council meeting afterwards where obi-wan rails on the council...

Obi-Wan suddenly getting a horrible feeling whenever Anakin calls him master because he's known the contexts were different but now it is real and in his face

Like it's a different thing for Obi-Wan to know his padawan used to be a slave compared to looking his padawan's former master in the eye and seeing her current slaves.

Anakin manages to control himself in the throne room but the whole way there and back he can't help worrying that one of the really old lash scars that curls around his shoulder will be noticed, that his identity as a former slave will be exposed

anakin not being able to call obi-wan master on tatooine like. point blank. he starts addressing him as master and just. flinches.

anakin usually wears his heart on his sleeves right?? always shows his emotions, feelings, all that. Well, the closer they get to gardulla's palace the blanker his face gets

Ahsoka calls Anakin master and Anakin just grits out a "Please don't call me that, not here."

Obi-Wan suddenly realising why Anakin comes across as arrogant as times. He's spent his entire life trying to up his value because there's safety in value.

Anakin telling them not to use the name "Skywalker" while they're in the palace

Anakin's accent shifts so entirely to the point where it almost sounds like Obi-Wan's because he's so determined to not slip into old roles

Anakin having to be physically held back from getting into a physical fight. Not even using his lightsaber, he just wants to fight

Or, alternatively, all the fight just going out of Anakin because he knows, here, it'll just make everything worse. So he's almost.... compliant and it freaks everyone out

Ex. from @youngcreativenerdgoddess: Obi-Wan is terrified. His former padawan is the most resigned he’s ever been. He looks so....defeated. A look one would never expect on the vaunted “Hero with no fear”. All the fight was gone from him, and that scared him more than anything else in this force-damned war had.

Obi-Wan actually being the one about to lose his temper and then Anakin just puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him there's no point.

Consider: instead of anakin being angry he was sent on the mission, being resigned because of course he was, he knew Gardulla bes

Anakin comes across as an almost perfect Jedi for once in his life and in the context it is horrifying

Anakin’s report to the council is so matter of fact because he thought they knowingly sent him on the mission because of his past experience with Gardulla

Obi-Wan finds Anakin writing what he thinks is a CV then he sees the numbers next to it and it is his estimated value--"for the gardulla mission, if she finds out who I am she'll try to rebuy me"

After the mission, from @jasontoddiefor: "Failed you, we have," Yoda said, his voice full of grief, and Obi-Wan watched in horror as Anakin only titled his head, for once looking his age and not the years the war has aged him. 

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, not understanding.

Examples of bits and pieces from this prompt:

Ex. from jasontodiefor: Anakin in the corner of her palace having a breakdown because he remembers memories he had thought gone, his mother's shouting and the tearful begging and the pain, pain, pain and he hadn't meant to break the vase, it had been an accident, please stop it hurts, Mom-

jasontodiefor: "A game of chance." 

"What?" 

Anakin doesn't look up from his hands, doesn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He hadn't since they'd arrived here. "I'd still be here like them if not for a game of chance. I'd be worth more than just a few credits too. Force-sensitive, young, good with mechanics, pretty-"

Ex. from Ro: Obi-Wan has never seen Anakin this silent before. There were nights before, when they were both younger, Obi-Wan himself still trying to heal from Qui-Gon's death and Anakin trying to get used to the temple. And Anakin would get quiet, but he was never this stone cold silent. Never this blank. He's so emotional, Obi-Wan's former padawan (his child), so open with his heart on his sleeve. There is none of that here, none of that bright boy. Anakin doesn't fight it, and that is the thing that worries Obi-Wan the most, because when Anakin doesn't like something he fights, he lashes out with teeth and sticks his heels in. But in this, he is resigned. (Anakin doesn't let Ashoka off the ship. She fights and argues but Anakin doesn't move, doesn't joke. He stands firm with it and Obi-Wan watches.

"Master, I—" 

Anakin flinches, "You're staying on the ship, Ahsoka, that's final." She huffs and leaves, and the only thing Obi-Wan can see is how relieved Anakin looks. There is something wrong here, but Anakin has never liked talking about Tatooine, and Obi-Wan has never pushed.) Obi-Wan has never hated a mission more.

Another ex from jasontodiefor: "But-" 

"You're young," Anakin interrupts her sharply. Ahsoka hates it when he cuts her off. It doesn't happen too often, mostly on the battlefield when he's barking orders at everyone. If anything, he lets her speak out of tune more often than he should or other Masters would, but right now his voice doesn't leave any room for agreement. "Young, underage actually, and female, that's the first 10K. Extra five if they don't sell you as inexperienced, and only stupid slavers would do that, but as a virgin."

Ahsoka pales. Anakin's voice is harsh, but there is an almost easy flow to his words, as if he had recited them in his head over and over again. "Force sensitive, that's next. Another 8K regularly, but you're a Jedi, so that's 20K. A Padawan, mind you, but you're a known face next to mine and Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan would fetch 40 for his status as a Jedi and councilor alone. And you're a Togruta, you sell better than a human girl. I'd add another 6 for that."

You sell better. Not you would, there's nothing hypothetical about this, Ahsoka realizes. Anakin's narrowing down what would happen to her if somebody just managed to grab her lightsabers, to put a collar around her throat and cut her off from all that she had ever known. "Now, that's just your base value," Anakin continues. "You're also a pretty good mechanic and pilot, though the latter makes your flight risk much higher. Given how dangerous you are, let's say 10K. You're a strong fighter, so you could probably get another 8K in the arena, perhaps a little more depending on what planet you're sold on. Your political value also can't be overlooked. You fight at the front and know much more about the war effort as a whole and that's worth much more, probably another 15." Anakin holds up his fingers like he's counting apples and now how much people would be willing to brand her as theirs. "So we're roughly at 70. That's not bad at all. Not as much as Obi-Wan or I would get, but it's more than enough. You're not coming on this mission. End of discussion."

[therenlover]

Heartsick (A James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again

Tags: Fluff, Sickfic, Cuddling, Marriage Proposal

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Language, Potentially Triggering Mentions of the Reader Being Ill for a Long Time/Almost Dying of an Unnamed Illness, Planning Your Own Death

Word Count: 3700~

This was crossposted to my AO3 under the same title!

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

James Patrick March considered himself a fairly patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Some things didn’t deserve his patience, like lazy workers or angry hotel guests, but when it came to things that did matter, he was willing to go to extremes. Murder, for example, deserved his patience. Once upon a time, the Countess did too. Yes, patience was a rare virtue Mr. March had possessed all his life.

When it came to you, though, he found his patience running short.

You had been a revelation all your own when you first walked through the doors of the Hotel Cortez with not even a suitcase to your name, radiating purity with every shallow breath. James had been excited to find you in some dark corner of the hotel and rip the life from your body. That is until you found his little nook at the Blue Parrot Lounge and seduced him with your charming personality and sweet smile. From that moment on the Countess didn’t matter anymore. The whole world was just him, you, and all of the deliciously naughty ways he wanted to debauch you.

James had insisted on moving you into your own suite on the seventh floor that very night, just a few short hallways away from his own, and given every luxury he could offer. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It just wouldn’t be right to move the one he intended to court directly into his bedroom, especially while he was still married to his previous wide. Despite the distance, things between the two of you went swimmingly. Even the murder, which James initially worried could drive you apart, was now a delightful shared activity when you chose to grace him with your presence during a kill.

That’s where the problems started.

Mr. March was a man stuck in his own time. That’s why, after 5 splendid years with you at his side, you still weren’t moved into room 78. This also meant your suite was a place he wouldn’t enter unless he was invited. Sure, you had a healthy sex life, but the Countess still had the March family engagement ring tucked away somewhere. He wouldn’t move you into his quarters or impose himself on yours until the two of you were at the very least engaged. The plans for his and the Countess’ divorce were moving, albeit slowly, when you stopped opening the door for James.

The first day he thought perhaps you were simply elsewhere, but after a week of nothing, he began to get angry. It was one thing to deny him your company, but to ignore him while he made a fool of himself banging on your door? That was a punishable offense in the March family playbook. So, he decided if you wanted to play hard to get, he would too. In his mind, James could practically envision you rushing back into his arms once you got over whatever was souring your mood. It wouldn’t be long until the whole nasty affair was behind the both of you once and for all, right?

Wrong.

A month since he last dined with you, James sat at his table in the Blue Parrot lounge alone nursing the remains of his 4th glass of scotch.

Liz was slow to walk out from her place behind the bar. “You want another?” she asked, holding out a crystal decanter, “or should I fish out the absinthe fountain a little early this year,”

“No, no I do believe I’ve had quite enough. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually get drunk anymore,” he huffed. Whether it was the drinks or his growing rage, Mr. March found his collar feeling a bit tighter. He reached up to pull at his cravat but paused when thinking about the ghastly wound it hid. In the end, he let his hand return to its place on his glass.

“Suit yourself,” Liz quickly returned the decanter to its place and began polishing glasses.

Somewhere in the distance, Iris picked up a phone and began to take an order for room service. James had an epiphany.

“Liz!” he shouted, getting her attention, “has Y/N been ordering much room service lately?”

Liz shrugged. “Only once a day for the past month. Why do you ask?”

“I find myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, Y/N began ignoring me about a month ago. I’ve been giving her a taste of her own medicine for quite some time now, and yet she has made no attempts to seek me out. Do you think, perhaps, there could be something wrong?”

The energy in the room began to still.

“Wait, Y/N hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

The dirty glasses were abandoned as Liz let out a humorless laugh.

“Damn you, woman!” James rose with a shout, slamming his glass down on the table, “what is she hiding!?”

“She’s sick,”

James’ heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He sat down again, bewildered. “What?”

“She’s sick. Fever, puking, tremors; the whole shebang,” As she spoke, Liz came back to the table and sat down on the plush booth across from him.

“But it’s been a month! Influenza shouldn’t last that long…”

“Well, it’s definitely not the flu, I can tell you that. Last time I brought down her dinner she nearly choked on her toast. She was so weak that I had to sit there feeding her soup because she couldn’t lift up the spoon long enough to feed herself,”

It was as if James’ whole world had come collapsing down on him all at once. Mortified, he let his head drop into his hands. “Why didn’t she inform me? Am I that pathetic a lover that she would rather suffer in silence than tell me she was ill?”

“Well, to her credit, you don’t exactly look like the most comforting type. When did she move in again?”

“Almost five years ago, it’ll be the anniversary of her first entering the Cortez on the 20th,”

“And how many times in the past five years have you, I don’t know, cuddled with Y/N,”

“You insolent-”

Liz lifted her arms, offering up a white flag. “I’m just asking a question,”

James opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but found he had no way to defend himself.

It was true that his relationship with Y/N tended to fluctuate between chaste and lecherous at the drop of a hat. Once they had made love, it was the only habit for him to leave her in bed and return to whatever was keeping him busy at the moment. Post-coital intimacy was simply something he had never experienced or needed. Unfortunately, seeing that the only time he spent with Y/N outside of their trysts were formal meetings or dinners, there had been no time for gentility or softness between just the two of them. If ghosts could blanch, he would have.

Noticing his sudden shift in mood, Liz rose, backing off. “Now, usually I like to stay out of your business, but because your little relationship makes Y/N happy I’ll give you some advice. Go down to the kitchen, have Ms. Evers heat some broth, and give Y/N her dinner personally, maybe even give her some extra attention as a little treat. That should fix the bulk of your issues. Got it?”

He was never one to take orders, but surprisingly James nodded. He stood quickly, smoothing his suit. “Thank you for your advice, Ms. Taylor, but I must depart. My paramour needs me,”

She nodded. “Any time,” James began to hurry down the stairs, but suddenly Liz shouted. “Wait a second,”

James paused. “Yes?”

“Only the living get sick, Mr. March. Maybe, after five years, it’s time for Y/N to extend her stay at the Cortez... permanently. Just something to think about,”

He gave her a sharp nod before disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen. 15 minutes later he was waiting outside your door with a rolling cart in hard. He had already been stalling there for 5 minutes when he finally, with a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the door.

The room was dark and silent, almost like a tomb.

Your voice rang out like a bell as James pushed the cart forward. “Iris?” you called weakly, “is that you?”

“No, darling,” he responded, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he bent down at turned on a small lamp. “You won’t need Iris to bring you your dinner any longer,”

“James,” You whispered, half reverent and half shocked.

He was far too taken aback by the severity of your condition to form an immediate response.

You were curled up in bed, folded in on yourself as you wheezed for breath. As Liz had mentioned your body was weak and wracked with near-constant tremors while you tried your best to prop yourself up on the headboard. James had to abandon the cart with your dinner on it in favor of rushing over and helping you sit up. As he took in your gaunt face, his heart broke.

Your soft voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Am I dead?”

James shook his head. “No my love, not yet,”

Tears began to spill from your eyes. “I thought you’d left me, James. I thought I was going to have to rot in this awful, dark room for eternity, that maybe ‘cause I died while I was sick my ghost was too damn weak to get up,” As you spoke, you tried to grip the back of his suit, but found you were far too weak to actually hold the fabric. Your inability to even do the simplest of tasks only made you cry harder.

Mr. March was quick to pull out his handkerchief and wipe your eyes. “Oh, my dearest, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but none of that matters now. I cannot apologize enough for my abhorrent behavior as of late,”

“Will you stay?” your words were laced with desperation, “just for a little bit?”

“Of course, my dearest. I think you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me from now on. Besides, I couldn’t leave my beloved paramour without doing what it is that I set out to do,”

“Which is?”

James stood and quickly returned with the room service cart. As he removed the silver tray-topper, you found he had brought you a bowl of soup, a small plate of crackers, and a tall glass of ice water.

“I intend to make sure you are well-fed and taken care of,”

“James, you don’t-” you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“Nonsense! There is, unfortunately, no way to sugar coat this, but I will try my best,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “I have neglected you, darling, not just for the past month when I found my pride and ego keeping me away from you, but also for the past five years. I ignored your needs out of a false sense of propriety by bending to rules that are long dead and considered inconsequential. For that, I fear I may never forgive myself. Things will be different from now on, though. I hope to win back your heart properly now that I have realized the severity of my mistakes. Would you…” he paused, gulping, “would you be willing to humor me?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Oh, my beloved Mr. March, there’s no need. My heart has always been yours,”

Your words soothed him, and he offered you one of his debonair grins, the kind where his little mustache scrunched before his lips parted that never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Now where were we!” he exclaimed.

“Dinner,” you responded.

“Ah, yes! Soup!” He was quick to get a spoonful of the warm broth and bring it to your lips. “You needn’t worry, my sweetling, I watched Ms. Evers prepare this herself. Nothing but the best for you,”

It was easy to accept the spoon into your mouth. Something inside of you knew that James would be taking care of you from now on.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, but you didn’t mind, far too tired to take part in any meaningful conversation. Instead, you simply enjoyed the attention. James had never been shy about his affection, but that affection always tended to come in the form of gifts or sex instead of close, intimate touch. It hadn’t bothered you enough to tell him. You always just assumed he didn’t enjoy that kind of love. Now that you’d had a taste, though, of his gentle yet constant affection, you knew you could never get enough.

Too soon the bowl was empty.

James stood, returning to the door with the cart as you relaxed and rolled onto your side. “When will you be back?”

He chuckled, opening the door. “Did you think you could be rid of me so soon, darling?” The cart was quickly pushed out into the hallway as James turned back towards you.

Your face flushed. “I just assumed…”

“Assumptions, assumptions,” he tutted, “It hurts that you have such little faith in me, but I admit I haven’t given you much reason to. As I said, things will be different now,” James perched himself on the edge of the bed with a smile as he untied his shoes and slipped them off.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes, darling, so I can join you in bed,”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been imagining the first time James would actually stay in your bed to cuddle since the beginning of your relationship, but it had been years since you had given any thought to that silly fantasy. Could it really be happening?

Apparently, your surprise was evident on your face because Mr. March paused once both his shoes were settled neatly on the floor. “Is something wrong, my dearest?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” you were quick to explain, “we’ve just never done this before,”

James smirked like a predator who had just found his prey. “Such an innocent gesture from such a naughty little minx. I don’t recall you being so… flustered the night we met when I took you up to my suite and-”

“James!”

“Alright! Alright, my love, no more vulgarity from me until you’re fully healed and back on your feet. Well, hypothetically on your feet,” he emphasized his words with a dirty wink. Then he crawled into bed beside you as if he belonged there, scootching over until he was resting pressed against your side. You slotted into place, with your face resting in his neck and your leg thrown haphazardly across his hips as if you were made to fit his body. Holding James was like coming home.

You let out a soft, pleased sound at just how good it felt to be held.

James took this as positive feedback. As he settled in, he began running his fingers through your bedhead, combing through the loosest of the knots. Sensing something strange, he paused to put his hand on your forehead. It was uncomfortably hot. “You’re still feverish. Do you need anything? A cold compress? A wet washcloth? Some water?”

It was funny to hear him fussing over you, but it also warmed the deepest parts of your heart.

You made a negative huff against his neck. “No! You’d better not move. Your skin feels too good. It’s nice… cold. The only thing I could possibly want right now is for you to dim the lights and take your damn shirt off so you can cool more of me off,”

“I would, darling, believe me, but there’s just the small issue of the wound on my neck,”

“James,” you glared up at him, “I have literally ripped a dying man’s dick off in front of you. We have dinner with Jeffery Dahmer on your birthday every year, where I have to eat my salad as he zombifies whatever poor sap wandered into Sally’s clutches across the table. Hell, just a few months ago we fucked in that bathtub filled with some businessman’s blood. Your neck is just another part of you, James, it doesn’t bother me. Shirt. Off.”

“Have I ever told you that I adore when you take charge?”

You grinned as he undid his cravat and the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Once or twice,” The thrill only lasted a moment, though, because before he finished unbuttoning his shirt he pulled away from your arms and got off the bed. A high-pitched whine escaped from your lips. “I thought you said you were staying?”

“I may be a ghost, dear heart, but my clothes can’t just disappear,” Always one for the dramatics, he shed his shirt and suit jacket to the floor with gusto. The sight of his bare torso made your heart beat faster. You had to remind yourself that you were sick and it would probably kill you to go for even a gentle round with Mr. March. Ah, but what a way to die…

James dimmed the lamp before returning, undoing his pants, and stripping down to his boxers. “Is this better for you darling?”

You nodded and reached your trembling arms out to your lover. “Much. Now come back to bed. You have five years’ worth of cuddling to make up for Mr. March, and I don’t intend on letting you wheedle your way out of even a second of it,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he found his way beneath the covers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it,”

Your face quickly found its way back into the crook of James’ neck. It was inhumanly cool, easing the constant burn of your fever and soothing your sore skin. The slit across his throat truly didn’t bother you. As you said, it was just another part of him for you to love, nothing more than a cosmetic imperfection.

Nuzzling closer, you took a deep inhale of his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was the cologne he wore at the time of his death or even just what he naturally smelled like, but his pulse point radiated notes of sage and bergamot. God, how you loved him.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment with only the sound of your ragged breathing breaking through the air, but something urged you to speak your mind.

“You know, James, when you walked into my room tonight I assumed you were here to kill me,”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I didn’t think about it, my pearl,”

“Of course you did…” you went silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t have minded. This sickness is hell. I’m wasting away by the day and the pain never stops. I don’t mind dying, not when it means I get to spend the rest of time here in the hotel with you, but I don’t want to go out like somebody normal. My death needs to be special… I want to be the crowning glory of your murders, the most fantastic piece of art you’ve ever created,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hair, James sighed. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but the moment I thought of you, wasting away in the darkness and succumbing to some common germ, I knew I couldn’t kill you. Not yet. I refuse to have my bride accompany me through eternity bearing a constant reminder of my failure,”

Your breath hitched. “Bride?”

Slowly, his hand made its way to your throat. There was no threat in it, he wasn’t using even an ounce of pressure. It was more of a gentle reminder of his presence; a physical conduit of his passion.

“Yes, bride. I don’t mind if you can only become Mrs. March posthumously, though I would prefer to wed you alive and enjoy your last moments of warmth in the throes of carnal delight on our wedding bed, it all depends on where your illness takes you next. Until then I will be glued to your side. No more harm will come to you. I shall nurse you back to health with my own hand so that you glow with life long after your death. Yes, Y/N, your death will come, but not until I have done my best to atone for my mistakes in your life,”

“Was that a proposal?” You gazed up at James with wide, misty eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it was, and a poor one at that! To think I stalled for years in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to present you with my mother’s ring only to pop the question in bed with no ring in sight. I do hope you’ll say yes. I’d be rather crushed if you rejected me after all this time,”

You nodded, small tears escaping as you pressed your face into his soft skin. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I would’ve married you if you were the poorest man in the world and proposed with a ring-pop,”

“Then it’s settled. You shall be my wife as soon as you are well enough for me to fuck you again! I quite hate that Will Drake, but I believe he’s our best, quickest option if we wish to get you a dress commissioned. I have a few ideas drawn up already waiting in my office… perhaps I should call Ms. Evers and have her take them to him,”

“Shhhh,” you smiled into his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “we can figure out the details later. For right now, though, your fiancée is sick and she needs some TLC. What are you gonna do about it, Mr. March,”

He growled. “Well, I suppose ravishing you is off the table. Hmmm... what to do to my darling girl to make her feel better?” With a gentle nudge, he tilted your head up and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a start,”

-------

a/n: I hope you liked it! I’m really leaning towards writing a second part of this where the reader actually dies, so let me know if you’re interested. Also, my requests are open if you want to see any of Evan’s other characters! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thank you <3

[hargrove-mayfields]

Memories Are Golden

The prom of ‘85 was just one week away. If you asked Steve how much involvement he would’ve have in the event, not even a month ago he would’ve guessed it to be nothing more than maybe taking a flyer home and immediately throwing it in the trash.

Because he wouldn’t be able to go anyways, him and his date didn’t exactly abide by the administration's rules, or society’s, for that matter, so he didn’t care about the whole thing, until last minute, when Nancy had successfully convinced him to be a part of the prom committee with her.

The conversation had basically been a very lengthy guilt trip, he’s well aware of that, and her whole, ‘best moments of our lives’ speech hadn’t really done much to change his mind either.

In the end, Steve had only decided he was going to do it for three reasons: he’d get extra credit in the teacher in charge of prom, the math teachers, class, he wouldn’t have to go to any of his morning classes, and Robin joined in on Nancy’s bullying him because her and Heather would be apart of the committee too.

So now for the next week leading up to the big day, Steve has to spend his mornings in the gym putting up the decorations for the grand march.

But it isn’t all bad, because their small little task force made up of the other poor souls Nancy had rallied to do this with her is all of his friends, Nancy and Barb and Robin and Heather, with the addition of one very begrudging Billy Hargrove.

The girls were all the type you’d expect to be into this thing, the crafty ones mixed in with popularity, and everyone knew Steve would do anything to show school spirit, especially if Nancy bullied him into it, but nobody actually expected Billy of all people to even show up.

He certainly looked more likely to be the one crashing the prom than hanging up little foil stars on the walls, and anyways, rumor had it he only was on the committee as an alternative to detention for smoking weed under the bleachers.

But Steve knew that had absolutely not happened, for one thing, Billy’s weed stayed tightly locked up in his bedroom, thank you very much, and for another, he was there completely willingly. Steve knew that, because he’d been the one to tell Billy to sign up.

Which, when it really got right down to it, Billy honestly was the only reason Steve was even doing this whole thing. They were used to working in a couple of very limited interactions on the court or in the few classes they shared, but with the prom committee they’d be required to spend at least four hours together every day. It was the golden opportunity, even if that wasn’t the way Nancy intended it.

So maybe Billy does show up a little late every morning on purpose, just to keep up appearances, but he’s got a smile on his face, hidden behind the styrofoam coffee cup he gets from the cafeteria as he seeks out Steve and sits beside him in the bleachers to wait for that days instruction.

“Mornin’ Bill.” Steve mumbles tiredly, used to coming in late every day and getting at least an extra hour of sleep most days.

Billy nods and hums in his throat as his only response, so Steve asks him, “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’?”

And of course, in true Billy fashion, he flashes Steve his most shit eating grin, and says all nonchalant, “Always do when I wake up alone.”

It’s so cheesy, and very obviously meant to get to him, but Steve can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. He’s still trying to think up an equally as flustering comeback, when the teacher in charge finally shows up.

She announces that this year’s theme was ‘under the stars’, which Steve thought sounded incredibly tacky, but there was still no way it would be any worse than the godawful ‘hollywood’ theme from the year before. Hawkins High had a reputation for a lot of things, but creativity was not one of them.

They get split up into groups, Nancy and Barb in charge of the promo, the writing up, designing, and printing of the announcements and tickets, and Robin and Heather got the delicate detail work, blowing up balloons, laying down the artificial grass squares and hanging or putting in place whatever the other groups made them.

Billy and Steve, on the other hand, were stuck with all the dirty work, the manly jobs. They’re the ones who have to paint the banner that’s going to go over the door, and carry anything that’s considered too heavy and hang anything too high (even though Barb really isn’t that much shorter than them), and set up the tents and string the electricity to the lights in the fake lamp posts.

Quite frankly, Steve doesn’t think it’s fair that they have double the workload as the girls, most of the week had been dedicated to their work, but he just can’t bring himself to complain about getting to watch Billy working every morning, still barely awake yet, his hair pulled up so it didn’t get paint or that much glitter in it.

~~~~~~~~

On their last day in the gym, all that’s left is to sort out a few last minute details, the final squares of fake grass are laid out, lights are tested and glitter is spread out on everything. It doesn’t take too awful long, so they end up with just under three hours leftover to kill.

What they’re supposed to do is report back to their morning classes and try to catch up on all the work they’ve been missing out on for the entire week, but Billy isn’t looking to worry about a bunch of school work, so he tries to convince the rest to skip those last few hours with him.

From Barb and Nancy he gets an instant no, which, he was honestly expecting that. They’re responsible girls, and he can’t blame them for giving two shits about their education. The fact of the matter is though, that he doesn’t.

What he isn’t expecting as much is for his best friend to tell him no, but Heather’s too excited about her senior prom to get in trouble the day before it, and he can respect that.

He already knows that if Heather’s not going, Robin’s not either, so he waves her off before she even bothers trying to explain herself.

That just leaves Steve, and lord knows Billy’s been a bad enough influence on him that he doesn’t even have to ask if he’s ditching, so when Mrs Mitchell and the girls leave, they follow behind until they’re out in the hallway, then duck out of the back entrance of the gym.

Most of the time when people skip they just go home considering the lack of literally anything at all to do around Hawkins, but with Steve’s house too far away for it to be worth leaving, and Billy’s stepmom still at home, that sort of wasn’t an option for them.

Usually they don’t skip for those very reasons, but today they have a handwritten excuse to be out of their classes until exactly 12:15, so in a way, it isn’t so much like skipping as it is just using their free time wisely. Or at least, that’s how Steve rationalizes it, earning from Billy, who thought it was sweet that his former bad boy felt it necessary to make excuses for skipping, a chuckle and a warm smile.

They decide to just hang out on the school grounds, nowhere in town to go but the diner and the stores downtown, and they weren’t in the mood for food nor did they have enough money to blow buying stupid shit they didn’t need, so smoking and sneaking kisses by the tree line on the practice field it was.

It’s nice, but Billy doesn’t like the quiet, furrowed brow as he plucks blades of just growing grass trying to think of something to say that would break the silence. Steve just waits patiently with a lit cigarette burning out between his fingers for Billy to speak, listening intently when he finally says, “You know, s’a shame that I can’t take you to the prom after all that work we did for it.”

“Nah, prom’s way overrated.” Steve blows him off, not wanting him to feel bad about it, personally viewing the dance as stupid anyways, in a way sort of glad he doesn’t have to go, “It’s just a way to pay for new football uniforms and make kids who piqued in highschool feel good about themselves.”

But Billy doesn’t even laugh at that, flicking the head off a dandelion to keep his hands busy as he basically mumbles, “Guess you had time to think ‘bout it already.”

“Yeah. I guess I just always thought dances were kind of dumb. Now that I’m not King Steve anymore I just don’t really see a reason to bother with ‘em.” Steve explains, sliding his hand over to Billy’s across the tips of cool blades of grass, linking their pinkies together and leaning his head against his shoulder, soft touches like these the only way Billy could tell the difference between an open conversation and an argument.

“Still, think it’d be nice to be able to show you off. Let ‘em know what they’ve been missing.” Billy admits, a shy crack of a smile, like he was afraid to bring it up, and it makes Steve smile back, looking straight into the vulnerability behind his blue eyes and saying so softly it’s almost a whisper, “S’not necessary, B. I’m all yours.”

Billy pulls his hand away, a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t just from the warmth of the sun, overwhelmed by the affection just a bit, not uncomfortable with it, just not used to it, and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s, telling him, “God, you’re such a sap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to take me to the prom.” Steve says, barely even defensive, making Billy smile again.

There’s a break in the conversation, both of them flustered and thinking about the other, until Steve interrupts the quiet this time, leaning back on his hands in the grass and suggesting, “We could do our own prom though, you know.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, we can’t do the real thing, obviously, but I don’t have any other plans tomorrow. You should drop by.”

“You’re really askin’ me to be your prom date?” Billy smirks, but the vulnerable hope in his eyes gives him away, and makes Steve’s heart flutter, though he replies nonchalant, “Who else? Be there at 8:30?”

“It’s a date. See you then, pretty boy.” Billy says with a smile, leaning in to kiss Steve, but getting interrupted by his watch beeping, their break time almost up already.

Steve chuckles and kisses his nose, and says, “Guess we better get back then.” waiting for Billy to leave first so his boyfriend had a head start to get into the school before him.

Billy throws a wink over his shoulder as he retreats towards the gym doors, and suddenly the weight of what they’d just agreed to settles with Steve.

Maybe this prom thing wasn’t as overrated as he thought, because did he ever feel over the moon right now, blushing like an idiot and just standing there dazedly until he hears the bell ring inside the building.

Apparently it showed too, that butterflies in his stomach feeling he had for the rest of the day, if the fact that Robin pulled him aside in the cafeteria for an emergency meeting about why he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face was any indication.

He told her some lie, something about one of the teachers he got his makeup work off of cutting him some slack, and Robin doesn’t believe that, but she knows it’s none of her business, so she lets him keep smiling.

Still, as much as Steve was looking forward to this, at the end of the day when he waved at Billy from across the parking lot, he got nervous. Like, speeding back home to Loch Nora in under ten minutes on a normally fifteen minute drive nervous.

Because he still has a lot of shit to get done between now and tomorrow night when Billy is supposed to show up.

For one thing, his house is a disaster. He almost never cleans it until it’s too late, half-assing the dishes and overloading the washing machine and hiding things in closets usually the day before his parents were supposed to get back.

Another thing is how should he dress? He had a few fancy suits of his own from outings with his parents and past dances, but he knew Billy wouldn’t. Still, wouldn’t it be rude to underdress just because he assumed Billy would be too poor to clean up?

And what did people even do at prom? Get drunk and have sex? If Billy wanted to do that he would’ve just said so. How was Steve supposed to figure out what else they were going to do? The rest of prom is just bad dancing and even worse food, was that something he was supposed to include?

What if he’d sent the wrong signal in the first place and it wasn’t just going to be them? What if Billy showed up at his door with a bunch of other losers skipping out on prom night and this wasn’t really special at all?

The thing is, he knows he’s being irrational. Billy’s not the type to care about this stuff, and even if he did he wasn’t gonna like, break things off just because their little fake prom in Steve’s living room wasn’t perfect. That’s just ridiculous.

So he tries to redirect that initial panic into productivity. Get at least something planned out and put together before he freaks all the way out and loses his motivation.

He decides to do it in small parts, tonight he’d start with the cleaning and getting everything he already had together, and tomorrow would be for shopping and decorating.

Because he’s got such a scatterbrain, he makes a list of all the things he needed to get done before 8:30 tomorrow night, and already he feels the stress start to dissipate with each thing he gets to check off, the living room cleaned until Ruthie would approve, picking out a nice sweater he’d never worn before, fancy but not too much, and tracking down all the things he already had, a record player, the fancy wine Billy said he liked, and a couple of strings of fairy lights and tinsel.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he goes straight to Melvald’s, with the rest of his checklist to but candles, more decorations, a boutonnière, just to do it, and maybe something other than takeout to eat for once.

He must look as nervous as he feels, dumping his purchases on the counter, because Joyce smiles that understanding smile of hers, and asks him, “Last minute jitters before prom?”

“You could say that.” He responds breathily, trying to return the smile.

“Jonathan and Nancy decided not to go, but it sounds like it’ll be fun.” Joyce says with a nod, and Steve realizes he’s given her the wrong impression, explaining, “Oh, I’m not going to the real thing either, just hanging out with a friend tonight.”

“Well that sounds nice anyways.” She says, as she rings up his stuff remarking, “You must really like this friend to go all out like this.”

“Yeah he’s-“ Steve physically shakes his head, a reminder to stop talking before he gets himself caught, backpedaling with a shaky excuse, “I-I mean, it’s not like it’s a prom date , it’s just, you know, two guys hanging out.“

Joyce puts her hand on his, that same warm smile still on her face, and tells him, looking him right in the eye as if to say, ‘I know, but it’s okay’, “I’m happy for you, Steve. Have fun tonight.”

Steve nods, a flush to his cheeks as he leaves the store with not another word than, “I… Thank you Mrs. Byers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy knew absolutely jack and shit about school dances.

The first and only he’d ever been bothered to go to was way back in elementary school, and that didn’t exactly hold a candle to the fucking prom.

It helped some that it wasn’t the real thing, but Steve was talking like it might as well be, and quite frankly, he wanted it to be. This was going to be special goddamnit.

But before he can even think too much about it, he realizes none of that will matter if it turns out he can’t show, so he brings it up with his dad at dinner.

At the table is where he’s least likely to get beat if Neil said no, so that was always the time he chose to ask for things. “I know it’s, uh, kind of last minute ‘cause it’s tomorrow night, but could I go to the prom?”

Neil quirks an eyebrow, seeming mostly uninterested, “With who?”

“Nobody as a date.” Billy explains, using the cover story he’d been coming up with since the minute Steve asked him, or rather in anticipation of, “Heather has a spare ticket ‘cause her actual date ditched her last minute and she asked me if I would go with her.”

Neil nods, seemingly believing him, and asks, “When’s it start?”

“Uh, about 8, I think, so I’ll probably leave at like, 6:30 or so.” Billy throws it out nervously, tapping his fingers against the underside of the table, and freezing when Neil speaks.

But he doesn’t get yelled at, it’s just a simple, calm, “Susan, do we have anything planned that time tomorrow?”

“No, dear. Max is going with her friends at six, but other than that...” Comes her timid response without a hitch, and Billy already knows he’s in the clear before Neil gives his response, still not looking up from the table.

He agrees, but with a few conditions that Billy wouldn’t dare disobey, “If you drop your sister off first, you’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t come home if you’re drunk, and don’t waste all my damned money on pictures.”

Billy nods, his heart racing in anticipation of something he was pretty sure at this point wasn’t going to happen, though some part of him was still waiting for the slap across the face and a never your mind as he says dutifully, “Yessir. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Billy starts getting ready six hours early for two reasons: for one thing, the sooner he’s ready, the more time he had away from Neil and to psyche himself up to knock on Steve’s door, and for another, his hair on a normal day takes at least an hour if he doesn’t want it frizzing out or losing it’s curl or getting heavy, and this was his prom, he was willing to spend a whole day on his hair for the sake of looking nice, even if there were no pictures of it.

Of course Max, being the little nuisance she is, follows him to his bedroom when he goes to get ready, holding the door open with her foot so he couldn’t slam it in her face, and earning herself a grumbly, “What do you want, Maxine?”

“I thought you told me you weren’t going to the prom.” She says it like she caught him doing something wrong, as if plans couldn’t change, and it pisses Billy off a little bit.

“I’m not-“ He starts to explain, cutting himself off when somewhere in the house Neil pops the tab on a beer can, a tiny sound Max probably hadn’t even picked up on, but if his father was out and about in the house Billy doesn’t want to admit what he’s going to in front of him. He opens his door wider and ushers his step sister in, immediately shutting it behind her and finishing what he was saying,  “I’m not going to the prom.”

She quirks an eyebrow, through Billy’s eyes maybe looking a bit too much like her step-dad when she does it, “Why’d you tell Neil you were?”

“Crashing the after party. Thought it’d look better if I said I went.” He just shrugs, half assing the lie, and, picking up on that, Max fires back smugly, “You’re lying.”

Billy snaps, no longer looking at her while he starts lining his shit up on his makeshift vanity, getting ready to get ready, “Yeah, I am. But it’s really none of your business, shitbird.”

“Are you going on a date or something?” She looks at him knowingly, if not a little surprised, and asks as it dawns on her, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Maxine Nicole!” He hisses through his teeth, turning to glare at her and seeing that she’s holding his hair spray that he literally just put out, probably planning on stealing it, “Jesus, give me that.”

She lets him snatch it out of her hands and puts it back in its spot on the vanity she told him didn’t count as a vanity multiple times, rolling her eyes, “Yeesh. I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“If you’re going to tell on me Max, I swear to god-“ He starts, defensive, more vulnerability in his voice than intended, but Max insists honestly, the most not bratty she’s been since she stepped into his room, “I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Though it doesn’t last very long, her not being a brat, because she immediately cracks a big smile and asks Billy, “Who is he though?”

“Mind your own, Max, Christ.” Billy blows her off, catching glimpse of himself in the mirror and taking note of the barely there flush to his cheeks, pointing to the door and telling his meddling step sister, “Out.”

“Awww, Billy-“ She tries to whine, but he cuts her off, “ No. Out. Of. My. Room.”

But Max offers quickly, like it’ll change his mind, “I’ll do your hair if you let me stay.”

And maybe it doesn’t immediately change his mind, but it does successfully stump him, because he’s asking her, equal parts genuine curiosity and sarcasm, “Why would I let you touch my hair?”

“No reason.” Max says, looking down at his carpet, definitely overplaying the bashfulness in bringing up her answer to appeal to Billy’s emotions, “I just thought, and maybe it’s stupid but like, most guys have their moms to fuss over them for prom, but, you know, you don’t, so I wanted to, I don’t know, be a good sister and do that for you or, whatever.“

Billy sighs, that had been exactly what he was thinking about all night last night, how his momma would be proud of him for finding a way to do this with the person, the boy he loved, and how she could’ve been there to do exactly what Max said, so he agrees, “Alright shitbird, guilt trip successful. You’re not kicked out.”

Max claps her hands together and sits on her brother's bed, getting all of Billy’s wrinkled button ups tossed at her from where they had been previously shoved, unfolded into a dresser drawer, and a command to, “Help me pick a shirt.”

She asks him while she’s unfolding all of his shirts he’d thrown at her and spreading them all out over Billy’s bed, “Are you going to button it.”

“What do you think?”

“Billy. It’s your prom.”

“Fine. One more button.”

“Two?” She tries to bargain, but he shuts it down again, making her giggle when he jokes, his tone level like it's a real threat, “One or I‘m going shirtless.”

“Then I pick.. this blue one.” Max says and puts her hand on a navy blue, quarter sleeve shirt after careful consideration of holding each button up up to Billy and thinking hard about it, but one more once over and she changes her mind, handing Billy a white shirt with snap buttons instead, “No, no, no, wait, this one with full sleeves is better. Yeah, that one for sure.”

“Sleeves it is.” Billy says taking the shirt and hanging it on the door so he’d remember to iron it, crudely shoving the rest of the button ups back into the drawer, and asking Max, “Will I need to wear like, a coat or something?”

She shrugs asking him smugly, “That depends on who it is.”

“Sensitive information.” Billy says immediately, when she looks like she’s going to argue shutting her down before she can say anything, “Which means I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Can I guess?” Max asks, making her case by reasoning with him sweetly, “Please? You wouldn’t be telling me that way.”

He genuinely considers it for a minute, and decides it’s whatever, in his head assuming there was no way Max would be able to figure it out, so he waves his hand with an eye roll, giving her the go ahead to start guessing.

Her first question is, “Okay, okay. Is it.. someone I know?”

“Yep.”

Max furrows her brow, and asks, “Do I like him?” To which Billy shrugs and responds, “Probably.”

“Um, is it…” Max snaps her fingers, an idea coming to her, “Is it Tommy?”

But again she’s shut down, because for somebody she’s supposed to probably like, she sure does a lot of complaining about Tommy, and he calls her on it, “Do you like Tommy?”

Max hums thoughtfully, taking a second guess, “I guess not. Is it Keith?”

Billy shakes his head, giving her the most confused look she’d ever seen on his face as he asks, or basically exclaims, “Who the fuck is Keith ?”

“Well excuuse me for not knowing a lot of guys around here!” Max says, defensive, making Billy roll his eyes again and turn back to digging through his drawers for a decent pair of jeans to wear with a button up, most of them stained and worn.

“Not Tommy, not Keith, who’s left?” She thinks hard then gasps, connecting something in her mind, a devious, knowing little smile on her face, “Is it Steve?”

Billy doesn’t answer her, quite frankly doesn’t know what he should say. It’s his fault, letting her guess between the only three boys his age in town she apparently knew, but now that Max knew who his mystery boyfriend was he wasn’t feeling so hot.

Honestly, some part of him is expecting Neil to come busting through the door any second, like this was some sort of run around way of finding him out, but after a few minutes of her squealing like teenage girls do, he realizes all he has to face is an excited little sister.

He flushes, and asks her over his shoulder, his forcing his tone to sound bored, “Are you done?”

“Yes.” Max says, nodding, but she smiles wide and dissolves into a fit of giggles again, covering her mouth with her hands when Billy crosses his arms, and insists, “Okay, okay, I’m done!”

“Good.” Billy says, but he can’t help cracking a smile. He angles his mirror down towards the floor and sits in front of it, telling his sister lightly to, “Help me with my hair then, shitbird.”

Max sits behind him, and runs her fingers through his hair, “You should’ve put curlers in it or something last night.”

Billy rolls his eyes, realizing as he does so for the dozen things time since Max barged in that she maybe learned that from him, deciding that doesn’t even warrant a response, and hands Max the comb and one of the many cans of hairspray off of his vanity.

She sits up on her knees, and brushes back the hairs just behind his ears that always frizz out and lose their curl, holding them at the back of his hair with a bobby pin, one of the blond ones she bought specifically for him so he could use them without immediately getting caught using ‘girly’ things, but had so far been too scared to anyways.

It looks strange on him, looks more like something Max would wear than him, but honestly he doesn’t hate it, so he lets her keep going, only frowning a little when she adds a pearl adorned hair clip, big enough it looks more like a fancy brooch, to the back of his hair.

She sprays it with so much hairspray it’s tacky, scrunching it up so his curls are tighter, and smoothing the sides so they won’t come unclipped.

When every curl is in its place and approved by Billy, who insists he’s not in the least bit emotional about what Max had said early, that thing about having nobody but her to fuss over him, she hops up, telling him to, “Wait one minute.” while she runs to her room.

She returns with her bulky pink Caboodles box, the one that has all of her mostly unused makeup in it, tapping him on the shoulder and telling him, “Alright, turn towards me.”

Her plan didn’t work though, at least he’s almost positive it was her plan to break down his defenses just so she could use him as her dress up doll anyways, but he isn’t having it, telling her quickly to “Put that shit away, Max.”

“Why? You wear makeup everyday.” Max observes simply, making Billy hiss and tell her to lower her voice, “Yeah, but never the extra strength shit that makes your eyelashes curly and your face pretty. Neil will sniff this out the second I step out of this room.”

Max just shrugs, “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see your face. It’s not a big deal.”

“He’ll make it into one.”

“I think your senior prom is an even bigger deal, though.”

Billy sighs, once again losing to her arguing skill, and turning to face her like she told him, “You owe me if I get caught like this.”

Max rolls her eyes and does her magic, each second that passes Billy regretting agreeing to turning the control of his appearance over to his little sister, expecting to come out of this looking like her Diva doll, fidgeting more and more the longer it takes her.

Just before he’s about to panic, Max tells him, “All done.” and lets him look in the mirror.

He blinks repeatedly at his own reflection, surprised to see he didn’t have sparkly eyeshadow up to his eyebrows or rouge on his cheeks, just a tasteful amount of lip gloss and a copper tint to his eyelids, framed by darker than usual eyelashes and the smallest bit of eyeliner.

She gets impatient after a few minutes of Billy not saying anything, and pushes his shoulders to turn him around again to look at her, staring at him until she decides what she thinks is missing.

She hurries to the upright jewelry box in her mother’s room, and brings him back a clip on pearl earring for his right ear, opposite the chain of silver stars she already picked for his left.

“Here, it’ll look better if you have earrings in both ears.” She reaches up, pushing his hair out of the way and clipping the earring on, letting him do the screw on the back himself so she didn’t make it too tight.

Billy lowers his hand and scrunches his nose, leaning in slightly towards the mirror, “They don’t match.”

“It looks nice though. You look really pretty.” She tells him honestly, not realizing the impact the simple compliment, though not so simple for somebody like him, has on her brother until he’s trying to subtly blink away tears behind mascara coated lashes, pretending like that wasn’t the case and telling her, “Whatever, it’s too late to change it now if you want to be on time.”

He does one last once over himself in the mirror, though he knows he’s going to be using his car windows for the same purpose at the last minute, and shoos Max out of his bedroom door, trying to hurry out of the house before Neil can stop him and see him all dolled up.

He’s got one hand around the door knob and his keys through his belt loop when his dad does stop him, his heart just about stopping as Neil calls from the other room, “Do you have flowers for the girl?”

“I have a corsage in the car.” Billy lies, hoping his tone is sure enough for Neil to buy it.

“Good. Just remember what I said, boy.” Neil says, still from the living room, so Billy lets his posture relax a bit and breathes out a quiet sight, saying casually, “Get Max to her friends, don’t spend any money, and don’t come home drunk, I got it, dad.”

“Watch the attitude, William.” Neil says low, the air going still for a minute until he adds, “And have fun tonight.”

“Yessir.” Billy says, ushering Max quickly out the front door, sighing when it closes behind them.

~~~~~~~

Billy drops Max off at the Wheeler’s, just driving around Hawkins until it’s time to show up at Steve’s, making sure to stop past the Holloway’s place just in case Neil went asking around wanting to know if anybody saw his car in the neighborhood.

At 8, he decides he doesn’t want to show up empty handed, buying Steve some flowers like he’d lied and said he had for Heather from Melvald’s, not understanding the knowing look the cashier lady has in her eye when he brings a dinky bouquet of flowers to the checkout counter.

He rings the doorbell at 8:30 on the dot, checking himself out one last time in Steve’s window while he waits, fifty cent roses held behind his back.

On the other side of the door, Steve stands in the dining room, now adorned with cheap party decorations that would’ve made his mother pitch a fit, waiting a whole thirty seconds before he goes to answer it, trying to collect himself first.

Billy smiles wide, and, as cheesy as it was, seeing him standing there all dressed up taking Steve’s breath away and stealing the words right off his tongue, Billy having to invite himself in because Steve was busy catching flies.

He hands him the flowers, nodding towards the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister, the stars hanging in the archway that lead into the living room that were almost identical to the ones they hung from the basketball hoops at school and saying, “Place looks nice.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Steve says, quickly adding, “You know, you look nice too.”

Billy smiles softly, looking at him with that ‘you’re an idiot Steve Harrington’ look he was so used to by now, “C’mon, Stevie, we’ve been dating for four months now, you don’t gotta be all awkward with me still.”

“I’m not, I mean it, you look really good, Billy.” Steve says, smiling now that it’s his turn to fluster Billy.

“Oh by the way, I almost forgot. Got you this just because.” He remembers, handing Billy a box with a floral pin inside, pink roses with lace, and telling him expectantly, “It’s a boutonnière.”

But Billy doesn't open it, just raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you did corsages for prom?”

“Corsages are for the girls.”

“Ah. Got it.” He says it like he already knew that, like he was hoping maybe Steve didn’t, so Steve offers, not really understanding it, but knowing what he means all the same, “It came as a set, I still have the corsage upstairs, if you want it.”

Billy nods and pins the boutonnière to Steve’s shirt instead, explaining simply, “Just so we match.”

Steve runs upstairs and gets the corsage, giving Billy a minute to actually appreciate just how much went into decorating this place, snickering to himself when he imagines Steve having to stand on a step ladder to put the string lights so high up on the wall.

Steve tosses Billy the box from the top of the steps, letting him open it while he comes back down and ties it around his wrist, having to tie it twice because he put it on the wrong way the first time.

Billy asks him, shaking his wrist to make sure the bow is tight enough, “So what’s our official plan for tonight, Stevie?”

“Honestly I don’t really know. I’m sort of just winging it here, I don’t know what you even do at prom.”

“You never went at all?” Billy asks, surprised miss priss hadn’t dragged him along to their junior prom last year.

“Nope. Like I said, overrated.” Steve confirms, and Billy smiles wide, saying, “I’m sure I got a few ideas in mind then.”

~~~~~~~~

Billy’s idea basically consisted mainly of drinking all that fancy wine Steve had gotten out of the cellar specifically for this, shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat, and complaining about the real prom happening up at the school.

Honestly, Steve suspects things wouldn’t have been so different had they actually gone, but he can tell the fact that they weren’t able to go was still bothering Billy, judging by the sheer number of times he brings it up.

After what must be the tenth time that night Billy brought up Heather and Robin getting to go, Steve asks him, “Do you wish we were there?”

“No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t give a damn less about the whole dance, a thousand times over I’d rather just be here with you.”

“But?”

“But I wish we had the choice to go, you know? It’s just, bugging me that if we had genuinely wanted to go, we couldn’t’ve.” Billy rants, very obviously having been holding this in, “And I keep thinking about all the other gay kids who don’t have a big empty house or a safe place to do what we’re doin’.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal. Prom is pretty much all for the parents anyways, and the way I see it we, and all the other people like us, we’re so used to disappointing them, what’s it matter if we don’t go?”

“Just, I don’t care about the event or whatever, but it feels like we’re missing out on something. Like maybe we should’ve just swallowed our pride and went with Hetty and Robin anyways.”

Steve stands up abruptly, picking up their wine glasses and kicking the coffee table all the way over to the far wall to clear the floor, offering Billy his hand, “I know you feel like you’re robbing me of something by us not going, but we don’t need all of that for this to be good. I meant it when I said that’s superficial to me anyways. We can make it mean something to us.”

Billy looks up at him, still bothered deep down, but out of ways to argue about it, and accepts Steve’s hand, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck when he pulls him close by his waist.

It’s not really a slow dance as much as it is an excuse to just be close to one another, to breathe each other in and sneak kisses and be sappy, but that’s was this whole thing was about. They could’ve just hung out tonight if they wanted, and honestly they probably would’ve anyways, but they called it a prom, put that title to it that made both of their hearts pitapat.

Steve had always heard, even felt it a few times before, that when you were with the person you loved, everyone and everything else would melt away around you until it was just you, but somehow, this was different than that.

Because that would mean there were times when his world didn’t revolve around Billy, and that there was ever a moment when he could focus on anything but the boy he loved, and that just wasn’t true.

This wasn’t performative, wasn’t a relationship formed on the status of being able to show off that they were better for being in love either, this was simply Billy and Steve, dancing in their tennis shoes on Ruthie's carpet, snickering when a particularly sappy song came on the radio, barely able to be separated long enough to turn to side B, falling in love all over again under the stars.

~~~~~~~

When the wine bottles are all empty and the stack of records has been spun through, Steve’s schnockered, and insisting they get a picture, searching the house for an old Polaroid camera and making Billy stand with him in front of the fairy lights strung

They only had three chances to get a good picture, no new packs of film and only a few left in the camera, so Steve took all three.

The first one was upside down and so off center he was hardly in it, Steve being maybe a little more drunk than he thought, and the second Billy closed his eyes because the flash was too bright, but it didn’t matter too much anyways because the film didn’t develop properly and the picture was nothing but reddish-yellow tinted blackness anyways.

The third one by some chance turns out fine, maybe a little blurred because he moved and still not quite centered right, but it’s a picture, something to hold onto the memory of this night forever when the hangover wore off and things got a little blurry, and that was important to the both of them, for different reasons.

As soon as it develops, a little 8 by 10 of Billy kissing his cheek, Steve runs upstairs to hang it on the cork board above his desk before it gets misplaced, dating it and doodling a little heart with a S+B inside it, hiding the picture behind a ribbon for a middle school art contest and a picture of him and his parents.

Billy hooks his chin over his shoulder, his hands traveling a bit lower than Steve’s waist this time as he watches what he’s doing. He hums and asks, when Steve stands up straighter and turns in his arms to face him, “So? What have you got planned for the after prom, Stevie?”

[blackmissfrizzle]

Just Right (3)

Part 2

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: Someone throws a wrench in the plans.

Chapter Warning: Footbal AU. Don’t hate me please 😬 angst, implied smut, and some very petty behavior.

If you want to read more here’s my masterlist and you want to be notified when I post here’s my taglist

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The next morning, you had a pep in your step. Angel left you in bed with breakfast and a note saying he went on a run.

Coming downstairs you heard Angel’s voice, you assumed he was on the phone and not talking to the devil herself.

“Adelita, this is a surprise.” Angel backed away from her when he heard your voice.

“Y/N,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. Backing away she twirled your hair around your finger. “I see the drought is over. Who’s the lucky guy?” If Adelita wasn’t so damn conceited she would’ve smelled Angel on you. But of course, you wouldn’t be able to bag a guy like Angel.

Angel cleared his throat and stepped in between the two of you, grabbing onto Adelita’s hips. “Uhh, let’s leave Y/N alone. I’m sure she’s not the kiss and tell type.”

“Not around you.” She joked, patting Angel’s chest. “Once we’re done talking me and you can have some girl talk like old times. Just you’ll be the one sharing stories this time.”

The nerve. This is the second time in your life that you wanted to knock Adelita out. “Yeah sure.” You gave her a tight smile over your shoulder and went back to your room.

While walking you could hear the hushed whispers and the sounds of lips kissing. As soon as you knew you were out of sight you ran to your room and immediately started packing.

“What are you doing?” Right after Adelita left, Angel ran to you. “What does it look like Angel?”

Tugging your pants out of your hands, Angel stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“And what?!” You screamed in his face. “Stay here with you and Adelita?!”

He tried to hug you, but you pushed him away. “You really must be crazy. How are you just gonna take her back?”

“She was my fiancée, she deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Angel explained like it was a one size fits all reason.

“Oh, the same fiancée that dumped you once your future was unsure.” You scrunched your face up. “The same fiancée that told you it was over through a letter? The same fiancée that was all over social media hanging out and partying while you were in rehab? The same fiancée that so happens to ‘coincidentally’ come back into your life after you just made the biggest comeback ever?” You brushed past him went out the door. “Yeah, you can miss me with that bullshit.”

Angel trailed behind you, hoping he could amend things with you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Whipping around you shoved him. “Yeah, you are. You know honestly, I don’t feel bad for myself as much as I do for you. I pray to God that he never makes me as pathetic as you. Have a nice life, Angel Reyes.”

Opening the front door revealed a sympathetic Mr. Felipe and an angry EZ. They both tried to stop you, but you kissed each man goodbye promising to keep in touch.

EZ waited until he saw you drive away to attack his brother. “What the fuck did you do?” Angel blocked some of his brother’s punches, but EZ managed to get some in.

Felipe was able to pull his youngest off his eldest. “EZ that’s enough!”

“Nah, Pop! You saw her. She practically ran out in tears.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Ezekiel!” Angel tried to walk away from them, but Felipe stopped him. “Explain yourself, son.”

“Adelita.” Both his father and brother groaned at that name. Now they knew why you ran out like that.

EZ didn’t have time for whatever excuse that his brother had. “You two deserve each other. And I hope when you come to your senses it’s too late.” He slammed the door on the way out, too disgusted with Angel to stay.

A few moments later Felipe followed his son out. “Pop,” Angel cried out, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy. “Not right now, Angel.” He stopped at the door and looked back at his son. “Unlike your brother I hope it won’t be too late for you to come to your senses. When you stick your head out of your ass, you and Y/N are perfect for each other.”

Once he was alone, Angel sat on the staircase wondering if he made the right decision.

Losing Angel just wasn’t about your heart breaking, but also losing your best friend. Those months spent with him was probably the best time of your life. The only thing that got you through the days were work and Rio.

At first, he assured you that he could just be your friend but someway somehow, he wormed his way into something more. You told him that you didn’t want him as some rebound, but he cockily said, “Ain’t no way I’m a rebound.” So, you stayed and started dating him.

You were reading a book when Rio came and laid his head in your lap. “Mamaaaa,” he sung kissing the little bit of your exposed fupa. “What do you want?” He was only this adorable when he wanted something like that extra cookie that would mess up his diet. “Nothing extra. Just go to dinner with me.”

“That’s it?” You closed your book and set it down to look at him curiously. “Yeah, I got a dress picked out, hairstylist and makeup artist on the way.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner is this?” Dinners with Rio never required all the hoopla. “The league always hosts a dinner for all the teams in the semifinals.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Rio trampled over your words, not letting you get a word in. “I know that dumbass is gonna be there, but I think it would be the perfect place to show him what he’s missing out on.”

If you went this would be the first time you saw Angel and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Last time he made you look like a fool. “I don’t know Rio.”

Sitting up, Rio picked you up and sat you down in your lap. “But mama,” he attacked your neck with his lips, adding a little bite every now and then. “I’ll be bored without you. And who am I gonna shove in a closet and fuck her like a dirty girl?”

“You’ll be fine without me for a couple of hours.”

“Alright, time for the big guns.” Rio led you to his bedroom with a covered mannequin in the center. Unveiling the mannequin, he revealed the most beautiful dress. You would be crazy to not wear that dress.

“Ok, I’ll go!” Rio pulled you by your hips against him. “Good, I thought I would have to use my other negotiation methods.”

“Nah, I still need convincing.” Rio backed you into the bed and pulled off your shorts. “Okay, but you got 15 minutes to cum two times before the stylist gets here.”

Angel was doing his best at trying to keep his cool. Adelita was making her way through all the owners, sponsors, and players ‘networking’ to gain traction for her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t support, actually he was very supportive of it, but this night was in celebration of him and the other players. And he couldn’t ask her to quit it without looking like a complete douchebag.

“Are you two seriously making bets?” Angel wasn’t paying that much attention to Coco and Gilly until they said Adelita’s name. They were betting on when she would corner their team owner, Miguel Galindo. “How else are we gonna pass the time? Ain’t like there’s scintillating conversation.” Coco collected money from Riz and put it in his breast pocket.

“Pendejo,” Angel ordered another drink and while waiting for it he heard Coco whistle. Turning around to see what made Coco speechless, Angel was glad that he already set his old glass on the bar top, because he would’ve dropped it. There you were in the most beautiful dress looking like a goddess, but his mood soured when he saw that it was Rio escorting you.

Bishop walked up beside him and smacked him in the back of the head. “Fucking dumbass. Now she’s with that asshole.” Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bishop held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. And you better leaver her alone, she looks happy.” His coach pointed his chin towards you and Rio kissing. Angel slammed back his drink and ordered another one. This was about to be a long night.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Bishop and the guys.” Rio looked for your friends and saw that Angel was right there next to them. “You sure? You want me to go with you?” It warmed your heart that Rio was so protective over you. It was unfamiliar territory for you. Usually, you were the one protecting others. “No, you stay here with your team, I’ll be okay.” Rio quirked his eyebrow, questioning you. He was trying to break you out of the habit of you masking your feelings, pretending you’re fine when you’re really not. “Rio, I promise. I’ll be good.” You patted his chest and started to walk away, but then he caught Angel staring at the two of you real hard and he couldn’t help but give him a show.

Spinning you around into his arms, Rio smashed his lips against yours. His still taste a little bit of yourself from when he wanted to make you his meal. Rio’s hands drifted to your ass and you did little to stop him. Ending the kiss, he tugged your bottom lip slowly releasing it and ending your connection. “Go say hi to your friends.” He whispered in your ear, fixing some of your lipstick that got under your lips.

Angel wanted to knock Rio the clean the fuck out. Who the fuck did he think he was practically dry humping you in public like that? “You better keep your mouth shut. You lost your privileges to be mad.” Coach Hank warned Angel as he saw you approach the group.

“Hey guys!” You were genuinely happy to see all of them. Since, you cut off contact with Angel you haven’t talked to any of them at all.

They all lined up to hug you, almost fighting each other to be the first one. But Angel waited his turn. He had a lot more to say than just hi.

It was a bit awkward at first. Neither one of you made the first move. Eventually, you threw yourself in his arms and you were almost a goner. You did not know that hugging him would bring back all those feelings you tried to bury deep down.

“You look beautiful.” He kept a hand around your wrist, his thumb stroking the inside of it. “Thank you.”

His eyes kept dipping to your dress. There were some cut out pieces revealing more skin than he cared for. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

Snatching your wrist away, you crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from slapping the shit out of Angel. “Rio doesn’t seem to mind.”

Angel invaded your space and glared down at you. “Do I look like Rio?”

“Do I look like Adelita?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he had no reason to question you. You weren’t his, but damn it he wanted you to be.

“This was a mistake coming over here. Go back and talk to your fiancée.”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

Skrtt, you stopped your retreat. “Say what?”

“I said she’s not my fiancée.” Angel wasn’t able to explain further. Adelita finally came and graced you with her presence. She didn’t pay any attention to Angel. All her attention was on you. Adelita was actually pulling you away to talk to one of the other coaches about joining their staff.

This was almost as torturous as talking to Angel. Adelita barely let you get a word in. She was acting like she was your damn agent. Luckily, Rio came and saved the day.

“Where are we going?” You whispered as he pulled you into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.” He jiggled each door until he found an unlocked door and pushed you through.

“Rio no,” you weakly protested clutching onto his tux. “What? You don’t wanna give daddy a little something something?” He pouted, knowing it was your weakness.

“Okay, but it has to be fast.” Rio kissed you some more knowing how turned you got by simply making out.

Due to your combined breaths getting heavier neither one of you heard the turning of the doorknob. It wasn’t until the light from the hallway shone on you and Rio, exposing your dirty deed.

“Oh shit, my bad dawg!” Angel lifted his head from Adelita’s neck and apologized to the other couple. He didn’t mean it all. Angel saw Rio lead you to the hallway and by the mischievous look he had on his face, he knew his opponent was up to no good.

The little smirk on Angel’s face told you that none of it was an accident. “It’s okay, I wasn’t feeling well anyway. I think we should go home.” You smirked back at Angel. He wasn’t the only one that can play games.

“C’mon Angel, they need to get home.” Adelita winked at you and led an unwilling Angel back to the party.

You were almost out until you got stopped by Mr. Galindo. He was the only team owner you hadn’t talked to that night.

With Miguel Galindo trying to convince you to join his staff and Adelita standing next to you patiently waiting for her chance, Angel and Rio were left alone with each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stay the fuck away from Y/N. You’re no good for her.” Angel had to refrain from snatching up Rio as he laughed. “You got jokes man.” Rio stepped closer to him, they were basically nose to nose. “At least when I make her cry it’s from my dick and not from being a dickwad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watch on Rio and Angel. Those two couldn’t be alone without trying to fight in the first 30 seconds.

The scene before you was getting to be too much, but you couldn’t do anything without being disrespectful towards Miguel. Thankfully, Coco and Gilly were watching them too and were able to pull Angel away.

Somehow Miguel talked you into staying for the entire dinner. And because the universe loved you so much you and Rio were assigned to the same table as Angel and Adelita.

After Adelita formally introduced herself to him. And you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but it seemed that she was flirting with Rio. Not that you had anything to worry about. Rio wasn’t entertaining her at all.

“She take my money when I’m in need. Yeah, she’s a trifling’ friend indeed.” As soon as you recognized the notes, you tried to stomp Rio’s foot, but he was too quick.

“Huh, what was that?” Adelita didn’t quite catch what Rio was saying. “Oh nothing, I just got a song stuck in my head.  Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she ain’t messing’ with no broke bro.”

Angel had to admit to himself that was funny, but ain’t no way he’ll let Rio know that.

“Stop it!” You whispered in Rio’s ear. Even if Adelita was oblivious to him making fun of her, everyone else surrounding them wasn’t. “Now you know you always tell me that but we both know you don’t mean it hear or at home.” Heat crept up your face and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of Rio’s neck. Rio slightly turned to kiss your forehead while fingering the bracelet he got you.

Once the glint of the bracelet caught Adelita’s eye she snatched your wrist from Rio. You didn’t mind though because you and Rio were off in your own little world. Not even the harsh stare from Angel could tear your eyes away from Angel.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Angel?” Adelita rubbed at her ankle. “My bad.” He frowned as Rio smirked at him knowing full well he was the intended target.

As the night went on, Rio’s and Angel’s antics went up. You don’t know what you did, but you had two petty kings arguing over you. And at times it was funny but also stressful.

The little innuendos concerning you flew over Adelita’s head but everyone else was getting them. They were getting so vicious that Coco and Gilly started another bet on who would swing first.

The event was concluding when things got downright ugly. Angel once again voiced his concerns of Rio dating you. Rio had enough and went for the low blow. “You’re just mad because I already took your girl and I’m about to take your city and your ring.”

Coco and Gilly’s bet was long forgotten as Angel went for Rio. “Don’t be mad, Reyes. I’m just spitting facts. If I’m wanna keep it hunnid, if I threw the right amount of cash, I could have your other girl too.”

“RIO!” You scolded him trying to pull him away. Thank god, Adelita was nowhere near to hear that little bit.

“Nah, babe fuck that.” Rio shrugged you off of him and stood toe to toe to Angel. “You ain’t on top no more big dawg. Get use to it.”

Angel just shook his head and turned around like a wounded animal. “Coco, give Gilly his money.”

“What?” Coco asks too late because Angel threw the first punch at Rio. And once they started fighting it was hard to get them to stop. Even Gilly couldn’t hold Angel. It wasn’t until you did something that they stopped.

Bishop tried to stop you once he noticed what you were attempting to do, but you slipped right past him. The boys were in between blows giving you the perfect opportunity to step in the middle of them. As soon as you became an obstacle each man lowered their fist.

Angel actually started to cower some when he saw your face. This was like your training face but a thousand times worse. Rio never saw you this pissed and he was beginning to get scared to breath the wrong way. Either way both men knew to shut the hell up.

Facing Angel first, you shoved him in the chest. “Angel Ignacio Reyes, I know you were raised better than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Angel mumbled, his eyes downcasted.

“And you!” You faced Rio, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“Next time leave your petty bullshit for the football field.” You told the both of them before heading out without even waiting for Rio. 

Damn, you knew you should’ve stayed your behind at home.

Tagging: @tashawar​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11​ @otomefromtheheart​ @miss-nori85​ @xsweetdellzx​ @cocogodess15​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @sesamepancakes​ @literaturefeen​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @blessedboo​

[bagofbonesmp3]

So what's wrong with Loki TV? I wouldn't expect the MCU character to properly resemble any Loki from comics (especially because MCU Loki is effectively a different character every time he appears thanks to inconsistent writing and no one working together to ensure a coherent narrative), but am I missing something here in why they've made a mistake? I do greatly enjoy the series for what it is on its own.

i don't particularly love the series. i like making fun of Loki and the aesthetics are cool but to be honest.... i don't really care about the show anymore. before talking about the aspect of the show itself i don't like, there is the issue of the evident misogynoir of the show, which bothered me specially after the last episode.

(cw for misogynoir)

it's become evident how little the (white) show runners care about the female black characters (ravonna, hunter b-15 and hunter c-20). ravonna has had little character development asides from being a strict antagonistic character, who just keeps on intruding on Loki and Sylvie's plans for no reason apparent (that we've seen). b-15 is another black female character that gets ridiculed constantly by Loki, used by Sylvie to escape and so far I've only seen her be used as a comedic relief or an enabler for the plot, with little to no information about who she is as a character (unlike Owen Wilson, who has the same position in the agency but has way more character development). lastly, hunter c-20 gets used, hypnotized and then killed off screen by the titular white woman. these are all the black female characters in the tv show. also let's mention the fact that they get assigned numbers as names unlike Mobius does. interesting. all of these characters are either antagonists or victims with no agency. it's very fucked up to say the least. i was excited for gugu mbatha raw and wunmi mosaku to be casted in a marvel project, but the way they've been treated so far is frankly awful. this is not exclusive to the Loki show, wand*vision had the same issue with monica's character.

now with the show narratively:

the first two episodes were very strong. they focused on the mechanics of the world, loki's character and how he felt about this new environment, and the humor (which the writers are known for). but onwards, with the introduction of Sylvie's character, it stopped... being loki's show? i get that she's supposed to be another Loki but we're here for the Loki Loki guy! he's in all of the posters!!! why are we suddenly treating him like a secondary character? he just asks questions and reacts to situations. i don't care about Sylvie. also there are a bunch of plot holes in universe but that's a minor thing.

from a Loki Fan™️ standpoint:

look ngl, this must only bother me because I'm a Loki comics fan, although this IS an MCU issue in general... and that is using imagery or plot points from the comics without the actual story that makes them relevant. this is the case with Sylvie's broken horn crown, which has a whole reason to be in the comics, but here it's just a stylistic choice. and i have a feeling this is also gonna happen with kid Loki and king loki's appearance in the next episodes. they're gonna be stripped away from their meanings and be given a funny, ridiculous backstory. this is an MCU thing. they love to mock the source material and then use their imagery or concepts (and they usually execute them in a mediocre or just bad way). of course i don't expect it to be comics accurate, or to adapt these storylines right, but then simply... don't borrow from them? do your own thing? it's specially nasty because they've credited the writers and artists who made these concepts, took what they wanted from their stories, and then they mock them. loki in the MCU was always incapable to be comics Loki. but they're having all of these elements from the newer comics in their show with none of the soul.

and as an extra, hi I'm genderfluid and bisexual

why are you like this marvel!!! stop profiting from lgbt identities and then give them scraps you cunt!! i would prefer Loki remained a cishet character at this point, if I'm being honest. that little blink and then miss it moment did nothing for me. and then have the AUDACITY to market him as genderfluid, and make the "female Loki" another whole different character? there was a post that said "the Loki show had the genderfluid character be a cis man and a cis woman" AND LITERALLY that's how it feels. they didn't even paint his nails smh. Loki means a lot to me as a trans person. his latest arcs specially. i don't care about marvel's terrible rainbow capitalism. I'd rather have no rep than bad rep.

overall, i think the show is just another one of marvel's flawed and mediocre products. I'll stick around to see how it turns out, but my previous expectations of it just being a funny wacky show with small emotional moments is gone i just know it's gonna be an action packed series trying to be epic and groundbreaking and failing to do it

[syndianites]

A Queen Serve and Protects

Chapter Six

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter TBA! Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Pollen tapped the tablet pen on the table. School had ended and the duo was officially home.

“Chloe,” Pollen began. “It has come to my attention that you don’t do your own work.”

“So?” Chloe nonchalantly replied, crossing one leg over the other from where she sat on the chaise in front of Pollen.

Pollen tried not to roll her eyes. “So, I want you to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

Chloe scoffed. “I am plenty self-sufficient.”

“Really?” Pollen had a sweet smile on her face. “Then prove it.”

:readmore:

Before Chloe could make any remark, Polle flew over to her school bag. It looked more like a purse, honestly, with how much makeup and accessories she had stashed away inside. Seriously, what did you need an extra pair of heels for?

Pollen shook off the thought and grabbed the binder Chloe used for class, as well as her homework folder. Brining both items back to the table, she flipped the folder open. She pulled out the first sheet of homework she saw- something math related- and waved a paw at it.

Chloe gave her a dumbfounded look. “You want me to do that? Sabrina normally does.”

Pollen raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, I get it.” Chloe grumbled. “What does doing my own work have to do with being self-sufficient anyway?”

“When was the last time you did your own school work.”

“Ughhhh!”

Letting out a little giggle, Pollen decided to make a compromise, “For every question you get correct, I’ll let you ask a question about the Bee miraculous and its powers. However!” Pollen held a paw up before Chloe could get too excited, “For each you get wrong, you have to listen to some history and background on the miraculous.”

“Ooo-kay? How is that a loss for me? I still get to know what I want to know,” Chloe replied.

If only the poor girl knew.

Pollen beamed. “I’m glad you asked! You know how much you love our ‘Bee Nice’ Sessions?”

Chloe groaned.

“Anything I tell you will come along with lessons. I will tell you tales that are important for a number of reasons. And you have to sit through all of them!”

Chloe’s eye twitched. That sounded excruciating. Buuuut, she did want to know more about what powers the Bee miraculous could give her. It was just a simple math worksheet. Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. So Chloe took out a blank sheet of paper and began working.

She was wrong. So, so wrong. Chloe was by no means a bad student. She got solid B’s and pleased her daddy enough with her grades to get by. Did she need to have a study session with Sabrina before each test or quiz to get the contents down? Yes.

But that was all pish-posh. She figured if she could pick up enough for a test or quiz a day before it, she could do homework with no problem. Apparently, she hadn’t been giving Sabrina enough credit. That girl made it so much easier than this.

It didn’t help that her notes were a total disaster. Half-finished sentences, unclear instructions, and a clear lack of interest in each page. For a moment Chloe cursed her own apathy. She wanted to know more, damnit! 

By the time she finished she felt exhausted. Pollen, ever chipper, hummed as she looked through each question. She procured a pen and started making marks. That was a lot of red. Oh GOD, there was so much red.

Pollen tapped the pen to her chin in thought. Giving a nod, she wrote a score at the top of her sheet.

6/15. 

That was just under half! And that meant she would have failed had it been a test. Chloe resisted the urge to hit her head on the table. She could not afford to be forced into tutoring. Again.

Despite Chloe’s despair, Pollen was excited. This was better than she was expecting! Sure, she had been hoping for closer to a 75% or 80%, but Chloe at least had the idea down.

Plus this meant she could drill some more lessons into her charge.

Rubbing her paws together, she addressed Chloe. “Alright. Since it is almost an even split, let’s go back and forth with questions and history. I’ll start with a history lesson first, since you missed more than you got correct. But since I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a choice here: Would you rather hear some history about my previous holders first, or about all the miraculous as a whole?”

“Your past wielders, of course! I need to know who would be so lucky to use the same miraculous as moi.” Chloe flipped her hair back to accentuate her point.

Pollen huffed. Nonetheless, she thought back to her past holders, humming all the while. Who would be the best to start with to help Chloe learn? 

She smiled as someone came to mind. “Now, before we start, I should say that we aren’t always deployed to battle some great evil. Sometimes, we are let out into the world to help inspire something. For me, I either inspire Order and Control. Or, when that gets to be too much, I inspire freedom from Order and Control.”

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted. “Why would you go against your whole Order thing?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about past wielders first,” Pollen brought a paw up to her lips to hide a smile. “To get into that would mean I would have to talk about all the miraculous.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Tell me the basics about all the miraculous first. But! You better tell me about your past users after!” Chloe conceded, pouting at the little god.

Pollen started again. “Like I said, we don’t always need a great evil to fight. At their core, each miraculous is meant to balance out their respective aspects. Tikki- Ladybug’s kwami- is the kwami of Light and Creation, for example. She is largely put out into the world to inspire new ideas and innovation.”

Chloe scrunched her nose in confusion. “Didn’t you say you also get put out to stop Order and Control? Why would you ever want to stop Light and Creation?”

“Well,” Pollen looked off to the side. “You can’t endlessly create. Tikki works on a more individual scale. She inspires Light and Creation in people as individuals. I, however, inspire Order and Subj- Control in a much larger scheme. After all, a bee’s focus is on the hive, isn’t it?”

“In any case, sometimes people burn themselves out when creating too much or spreading too much light. If you give and give and give, what is left for you? Nothing. And those left with nothing often crumble and fall apart- or worse. Tikki, when she is needed to, can either help her holder ease off themselves or help their holder teach others to let go of such demanding responsibility.”

Chloe nodded slowly. That… sort of made sense. “So it’s like when Adr- a friend of mine kept being happy and smiling even after his mother died to help others stop being sad. Because he wanted others to feel ‘lighter’” She made finger quotes, “Despite the tragedy that happened?”

“Yes, that could be a good example,” Pollen agreed. “If your friend gave away all his light and such to others, it could burn him out and leave him feeling empty and cold. Though, in this case I would lean more into the Peacock- he worked to give good emotion to others to cover their grief. But we’ll get there in a moment.”

“Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, is Tikki’s counterpart. He is the kwami of Dark and Destruction.” Pollen stopped as Chloe seemed to ponder that.

“If he is all about dark and destruction, wouldn’t that make him more likely to be evil?” Chloe mused.

Pollen, for her part, wasn’t bothered by the question. “If I am all about order and control, wouldn’t I be more likely to use and abuse people?”

Chloe bit her lip, but shook her head no.

“Exactly. Just because that is what we represent it does not mean we are prone to be good or evil. In the balance of all things, there IS no good and evil. Really, it just comes down to what a certain group likes or dislikes, or how a person’s morals are aligned.”

“Okay, no, Hawkmoth is totally evil. There is no doubt about that. How could taking control of others and using their emotions to turn them into monsters be seen as a good thing?” Chloe didn’t like the idea of Hawkmoth being in the ‘right’ at all. It went against everything he had done to Paris.

“Well,” Polled offered, “Does Hawkmoth see himself as evil?”

Chloe sat back in her seat. If movies were anything to go by, he probably didn’t. She sighed and motioned Pollen to continue

Pollen pushed on. “In any case, Plagg is often put into the world to ruin things. Surprising, isn’t it? But sometimes the best things are made in the ashes of destruction. Growing from losing things is important for many people. Like how your friend lost his mom- he likely felt sad and lost. But if he grew from that? He could learn to see that others will have his back and he can lean on them. Even in the hard times.”

Chloe looked away from Pollen. She was right, sort of. When Adrien’s mom died, Chloe had been there trying her best to cheer him up. Did it really work? No. But she helped him escape the house and run around the city with her, and watch stupid cartoons and shows, and sometimes, just sometimes, get him to smile.

“But losing your mom isn’t a good thing!” Chloe snapped back. “That devastated my friend and his family.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I painted it as such. Loss is a horrible thing to endure. But I wanted to make a connection to something you mentioned.” Pollen bowed her head. “Destruction is rarely a happy thing. But, a more positive example would be something more metaphorical- the destruction of insecurities, or breaking a bad relationship, or- or bashing down a wall so you can open up a room to have more space!”

Sighing, Pollen shook her head. “It is far too easy to see Dark and Destruction as a bad thing. Darkness can be used to hide when you don’t feel safe. Or it can be used to tone down how bright something is when you feel blinded. It can also be used as a complement and give things more depth.”

“Of course, Plagg has also been put out to tame destruction. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘fighting fire with fire’? It’s the idea that you fight destruction with destruction. But he can also help people see their bad habits, or the things that hurt them, and get them to reign them in and stop themselves before it’s too late.”

“Okay, sure, that makes sense. But didn’t you just describe Tikki and Plagg as opposites anyway? Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction? Why do they need to get people to go against their aspect when the other IS the opposite?” Chloe butt in.

Pollen brightened. “That’s technically later in this lesson, but I can touch on it now. You’ve likely noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir came together as a pair, correct?” At Chloe’s nod, she continued. “That is because they are like Yin and Yang- opposites that complete each other. While other kwamis do have opposites, none quite work the same as Tikki and Plagg. They were once a single being- one that was the kwami of Balance.”

“Well,” Pollen rubbed her cheek, “They weren’t a kwami, per se. But that is too much to explain for right now. You recall how Hawkmoth’s goal is to get the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous?”

“Of course, that’s all he ever talks about when he akumatizes someone!”

“Well, that’s because when you combine the two into one you can have any wish granted.”

“What!” Chloe slammed her hands down on the coffee table, startling Pollen. “That’s horrible! I mean, the power is cool, but if Hawkmoth got his grubby hands on that wish who knows what he would wish for!” 

“Exactly! But there’s a catch with that- whatever you wish for will have an equal and opposite consequence. If you wished for someone to come back to life? Someone else must die. If you want to have all the power in the world? Everyone else must become powerless. These may sound simple, but the gravity is just as dire as the wish would be grand.”

Chloe fell back. “So, if I- well, if I wished for my mom to love me..?”

“It depends,” Pollen shrugged. “Maybe everyone else around you would hate you. Maybe your father would stop loving you. Or, in a more subtle fashion, she wouldn’t love the real you, just a facsimile of you. Whoever she thinks you are. Sure, there are ways to make a wish that has a mostly positive outcome- for the one making the wish- but the consequence will always hurt someone. Even if it has to be a lot of someones.”

The two fell into silence after that declaration. It was a heavy thought. What could drive someone to want to change something so badly they would be willing to suffer or let others suffer for it? How cold hearted must you be? 

The whole thing baffled Chloe. She could just ring her father and have what she wanted with no consequence. Could she imagine doing something so drastic as to ruin someone’s life to make hers better?

Instead of voicing any of this, Chloe leaned forward. “So tell me about the other miraculous…”

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Eight // Kakuzu

What is with this group and wasting their free time doing such inane and pointless things? The old guy can think of at least 50 other activities (the majority of which involve making money) that everyone could be doing, rather than lining up to kiss each under a little green plant. When it’s his turn in the spotlight, he tries as hard as he can to back out of his “obligation” ... but Pein (and Kakuzu’s own persistent partner, Hidan) insist that Kakuzu participate. Kakuzu sighs and nods; he’s smart enough to know when he’s been defeated. However, Pein should know that Kakuzu will be adding a little extra money to his paycheck that week, for “hazard pay”.

Pein

Nagato was more interested in Kakuzu joining his group than any of the others. Immortality, money-sense, expertise and wisdom ... this is the man who survived the wars of the past. This is the man who survived the mighty Hashirama, God of all shinobi. Still, Nagato is no fool; he realizes that Kakuzu’s number one priority in life isn’t the Akatsuki, but money. Kakuzu would probably (and had likely thought about) betray them all in exchange for a tidy sum. So Nagato (as Pein) works to keep Kakuzu content enough to remain loyal, including making him the group’s treasurer and giving him complete control over everyone’s finances. And Kakuzu remains highly useful; strategizing, completing missions twice as fast (and ten times as efficient) as his younger teammates. Pein approaches Kakuzu and gives him a light kiss on the forehead, before returning to his room. He reminds himself to speak to Kakuzu later; he has some ideas about weapons he’d like to procure for the group, and needs to see if it would be financially feasible to do so.

Konan

Kakuzu genuinely likes Konan, and appreciates her company. Many men of Kakuzu’s generation were raised on the belief system that women were solely meant to be wives, child-bearers, and home-makers; to call a female a ninja was deemed unthinkable. But Kakuzu was a rarity in that he never saw this as being the case; man or woman, one’s inner strength was all that mattered in regards to being a shinobi. He’s spoken with Konan at length about her childhood, and the trauma she endured, and he knows that this little blue-haired lady is a sight tougher than a LOT of people (and Kakuzu’s met quite a few in his long life). Konan walks up to him and he smiles; it’s rare for Kakuzu to smile, but Konan brings it out of him. “Good evening, Kakuzu-san. I think it’s my turn.” He nods, and slips off his mask so that his lips are exposed. He leans down and very, very gently kisses her cheek. Her blushing skin is soft and her smile is beautiful as she thanks him and steps away, to let the next person go.

Kisame

Nobody knows this about Kakuzu (and he fears he would be mocked if they did), but the old guy puts a lot of emphasis on the idea of exercise. Five hearts is a lot of responsibility, and staying healthy is how Kakuzu intends to keep living forever. So every night, when the others are asleep and after he’s done with his reading, he’ll spend some time in his room exercising. One night Kisame passed by his open door and saw him using a pair of heavy books as make-shift weights. The next evening Kisame came to Kakuzu’s room with a set of real barbells , which he casually gave to Kakuzu with the admonition not to overdo it. Kakuzu greatly appreciated the gesture (and the unspoken support), and the two have been good friends ever since. But ... a kiss between them would just be too strange, so Kisame comes up with a better option: an arm-wrestling match, Kisame grabs the kitchen table and two chairs and sets them up under the mistletoe. Of course the rest of the Akatsuki gathers to watch, hooting and hollering and placing bets on who will win. Kisame and Kakuzu are both fairly evenly matched, so that challenge goes on for a while. Finally, with a final grunt of exertion, Kakuzu is able to slam Kisame’s hand into the table. Everyone claps, and Kisame laughs and tells Kakuzu that he’s “one tough son of a bitch”; high compliment coming from a man who was half-shark.

Itachi

Out of all the members of the Akatsuki, Itachi was by far the least problematic of the younger ones. Quiet, thoughtful, quick and efficient in completing missions. And polite; always forthcoming with “please” and “thank you”, and never failing to use honorifics with the others, even though some of them (ie Deidara and Hidan) don’t show him that same respect back. One time Kakuzu had caught a cold that stubbornly hung on for several days. Itachi came to his room every day with a cup of congestion-easing tea, something that Kakuzu didn’t ask for, but greatly appreciated nonetheless. Itachi comes up to him and nods. “Kakuzu-san.” “Itachi-san.” Itachi leans up and gives him a light kiss to the cheek, and Kakuzu is struck by a particular urge — to hug this kid. Something about him, perhaps everything about him, seems like a cry for parental love and affection. Kakuzu resists this odd impulse, but Itachi seems to sense that it’s something he wanted, because he leans over again and very briefly puts his arms around the older man. “Thank you,” he murmurs, before walking away. Kakuzu watches him go, slightly shaking his head.

Tobi

Tobi gives Kakuzu an uneasy feeling deep within his heart(s). Running around, speaking loudly, eating nothing but candy and sweets, acting like a complete fool — it’s an act. Kakuzu has never been more convinced of anything in his life. The only question is, why is Tobi putting on this act? To deceive them all into a false sense of security, before striking? Kakuzu has hunted bounties a good deal of his life, and a lot of the more difficult ones to catch have acted EXACTLY the way Tobi does, in order to throw off potential bounty hunters. Kakuzu learned to see through them, the same way he sees through Tobi. But to tip one’s hand and give away what you know is unthinkable in the chase and capture game, so Kakuzu never lets on what he actually believes. “Oh boy Kakuzu-san; does Tobi get a kissy now?!” Kakuzu nods, and Tobi slides his mask halfway off (Kakuzu notes the lines on the side of his face; accident, most likely. Possibly a disfiguring one) and the strange glint of his eye. Before Tobi can act, Kakuzu puts a hand on his face and kisses his forehead. “There. Now go.” Tobi slides the mask back on and hurries away with his usual chatter and giggling, and Kakuzu reminds himself to loom through the bingo book later for bounties with visible scarring on the left side of the face.

Zetsu

Five hearts means more blood needed to sustain said hearts. More blood means a stronger scent. A stronger scent means ... Kakuzu smells delicious to someone like Zetsu. Zetsu approaches him and looks around quickly; the two are alone. His brain runs through every possible scenario in which he could successfully kill and eat Kakuzu. He’s victorious in a few ... but most end with him mutilated by the man’s tentacles, and having to face the wrath of Pein on top of everything else. So he simply sighs, flicks out his tongue to taste the saltiness of Kakuzu’s cheek, and walks away again. Just that one taste was almost enough to make zetsu throw restraint to the wind and eat his fill, so he leaves before he can do anything he’ll regret. Kakuzu wipes off his cheek in mild disgust ... in a group full of freaks, Zetsu certainly seemed to take the cake.

Deidara

Kakuzu still remembers the day they brought this kid into the group. And that’s exactly what he was; a kid. Barely 15 years old, with a powerful “gift”, and full of anger at a village he felt betrayed him in not trying to understand his unique sense of ‘art’. Fast forward several years later and Deidara had changed, and most of that change was the better. Kakuzu could only surmise that the kid matured due to the constant council and guidance of his older and wiser partner Sasori; Kakuzu feels mildly jealous that Sasori was able to reign some measure of improvement over HIS young partner, but Kakuzu couldn’t do a thing with Hidan. Still, though, even Sasori hadn’t been able to completely tame the kid, as evidenced by Deidara managing to get BOTH arms blown off in a tussle with some Konoha nin. Kakuzu had been tasked with sewing his new arms back on, but to the kids credit, despite his painful the procedure had been, he didn’t utter a sound. Had even thanked Kakuzu, twice, afterwards. Deidara walks up to him and looks almost shy; 19 years old now and still with the face of a child. Kakuzu leans down and kisses the kid’s forehead, again noting his soft and smooth — and LONG — his hair was. It sways as Deidara walks away, and Kakuzu wonders how much he could get for those luscious locks, from the right buyer.

Sasori

Respect. Out of all the words that Kakuzu could use to describe how he felt about Sasori, Respect was at the top of the list. And the funny thing was, Kakuzu hadn’t even met the REAL Sasori until almost a year of being in the Akatsuki. The two had been sent on a mission, and at night, near the campfire, a soft metal sound made Kakuzu turn his head. It was a small, slender redhead, emerging from the being that Kakuzu had THOUGHT was a real person. The two had looked at each other for a while, and then started a game of cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As time went on, the two became closer. They both shared an interest in/knowledge of medical jutsu and procedures, and would often come to one another with questions or with articles on different medicines. Kakuzu nods at him as he walks up, and Sasori does the same. He thinks about it, bends down and kisses Sasori’s left cheek, and Sasori smiles at him, bidding him a quiet Good Evening before going back to his room.

Hidan

“Hey old fuck; you’ve been dying to get your hands on my sexy body all day, haven’t ya, pervert?” Kakuzu would roll his eyes at Hidan’s comment, but at this point, he’s ridiculously used to the things his partner says and does. As he looks at Hidan’s face, he wonders, and not for the first time, whether this is a punishment of sorts. Gaining five hearts and creating a kind of immortality only came for Kakuzu at the end of a long and bloody road, one paved with the unwilling sacrifices of other people. Was it Fate, that the Gods had put THIS man, this loud, overbearing, foul-mouthed heathen, into his path? And as the one person who just might be immortal, too? Hidan often joked about “When all these other assholes bite the big one, me and you might as well get married, bastard.” But what in the world was he saying? Surely he was joking; why would someone as young and attractive as Hidan want to be with Kakuzu? Kakuzu who was heaven knows how many times Hidan’s age, and — “So we gonna slobber each other or what?” “You’ve got a big mouth, brat. Learn to shut up once in a while.” “MAKE me shut up, fuck-face.” So Kakuzu grabs Hidan around the waist, tilts him back, and sinks into his lips. Kakuzu’s mouth is rough and scarred but Hidan’s is smooth and soft, and the contrast creates a dizzying effect for both men. Hidan grasps Kakuzu’s shoulders tighter, leaving slight nail-prints in Kakuzu’s flesh. Their lips are touching but in this moment it feels like everything is touching, even their very souls (if either of them still had one, that is). When Kakuzu finally breaks the kiss and pulls Hidan back up, the white-haired immortal seems fairly disorientated ... but that doesn’t stop his mouth. “You’re an even bigger pervert than I thought, old fuck. Who the hell said you could stick your tongue in my mouth?? And why —” Kakuzu suddenly reaches out and grabs Hidan’s face with both hands, this time pulling him forward into a very soft, closed-mouth kiss. “Better?” Instead of a smartass answer, Hidan simply nods; and now he’s smiling as he walks away. If he were to turn around at any point, he’d surely gasp; because Kakuzu’s smile was even bigger than Hidan’s own. “Stupid kid,” Kakuzu mutters to himself, still smiling as he makes his way back to his room.

[beenovel]

Picnics and Surprises

Pairing: Sigrid x fem!reader

Word count: 1,647

Warnings: fluff I guess?

Summary: Four years after the quest you prepare a surprise for Sigrid.

A/N: I was very sad that there were so few wlw fics for Sigrid (or any Tolkien females, really) so I decided to take matters into my own hands. This is my first fic so please be kind. Thank you to @elvish-sky for beta reading!

Character ages: Sigrid is 19 with you being around the same age, Tilda is 13, and I couldn’t find and age range for Bain so I just went with around 15-16 for him.

You walked through the markets of Dale looking for the florist. You wanted this to be perfect. Sigrid had done so much for you, and you wanted to do this for her.

You had been a part of the company during the quest to reclaim Erebor (at Gandalf’s insistence of course). That’s when you had met Sigrid. You knew there was something there but you didn't have the time to deal with it.

Then the quest was over and the dragon slain and the mountain claimed by Thorin. You had decided to stay in Dale instead of in the mountain. You felt more at home under the open sky and Bard offered to let you stay with him.

You knew you had fallen in love with Sigrid and after that, it was only a matter of time before you got together and started courting.

Four years later and you were ready to take the next step. Tonight you were going to propose. If the weather cooperated with you that is.

You had been planning this picnic for weeks, plotting with your found family to make the perfect proposal.

You were going to propose under the starlight and you had almost everything ready. Food, candles, blankets, books, and the most important part. The ring.

It had a silver setting and a moonstone surrounded by small leaves and flowers. You were sure she was going to love it.

Finding the flowers you wanted, you bought them and looked to the sky with trepidation. It had been bitingly cold and windy all morning. Those clouds were far too dark for your liking.

This morning’s errands had taken a lot longer than planned and you began to worry. Tilda could only keep Sigrid out of the house and away from Bard and Bain’s preparations for so long after all.

It turned out your worry was well-founded because as you turned to go back to Bard’s home it started to drizzle. By the time you got back, the drizzle was a downpour and your cloak was soaked through.

Bain was waiting for you at the door and relieved you of your basket while you shed your cloak.

“Quite the storm out there” he commented.

“I know,” you said with a frown “so much for proposing.”

“We’ve taken care of it,” Bard said as he joined you in the entryway.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused.

“Come with me!” Bain said excitedly as he dragged you to the study.

You gasped.

“Do you like it?” Bain asked, clearly nervous.

“Like it? It’s wonderful!”

They had removed all the furniture from the room and replaced it with what appeared to be every blanket and pillow in the house. Lanterns from the ceiling gave off a soft glow as Bain added the wine, fruit, and flowers to the small pile of food on the floor.

With that you and Bard headed upstairs, you to change and him to get some of his, Bain, and Tilda’s belongings. He explained that when Sigrid and Tilda returned he, Bain, and Tilda would all go to a friend’s for the night.

“How did you get all this done so fast? The rain only started an hour ago.”

“When I saw the clouds on the horizon this morning I knew it was going to rain. We started pretty much as soon as you left.”

You stopped on the landing and turned to Bard.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for making my daughter so happy, and for being a part of my life.”

You let out a shaky exhale at that and Bard chuckled and pulled you into a quick hug.

“Come now, we don’t want you getting all puffy-eyed. There’s work to do.”

You nodded and laughed and went to your room. You changed into a simple dress that would be comfortable for sitting on the floor.

Grabbing the ring from its hiding place and putting it in your pocket, you went and laid out one of Sigrid’s favorite dresses for her.

You went back downstairs to find Bain in the kitchen heating the wine with spices.

“I figured with it being so cold and wet-” he cut off with a vague gesture to the pot.

“A splendid idea!”

Bain rewarded you with a warm smile.

“I can’t wait for you to be my sister.”

Your heart swelled.

“I can’t wait either.”

“Neither can I,” Bard said from the doorway, “but let’s get moving before they get back.”

“No need to get pushy, Da, we have time.”

The front door opened with a slam as the frozen girls rushed in. Bard turned to Bain with an expression that had “I told you” written all over it. Bain raised his hands in surrender as his father turned to waylay the girls before Sigrid could see the study.

You and Bain looked at each other and suddenly you were both stifling excited yet hysterical giggles.

You breathlessly listened to Bard as he explained that Sigrid had to go upstairs and get changed because there was a surprise for her but she had to be in dry clothes for it.

“I have no complaints with dry clothes Da, just the secrecy” you heard Sigrid say as Bain poured the wine into mugs.

Once you were sure Sigrid was upstairs you took the mugs from Bain and went to the study. You set the mugs down on the table and went to the entryway to see the others off. You got quick smiles, hugs, and words of encouragement from everyone, then you bolted the door behind them.

You could hear Sigrid approaching the stairs and you went to stand at the bottom. When she saw you she gave you a wide, but nervous smile.

You laughed lightly as she descended the stairs.

“Calm down, my love, I just wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

She visibly relaxed and reached out to hug you.

“Mmmm, I missed you” she murmured into your shoulder.

“You saw me this morning.”

“Doesn’t matter, I still missed you.”

You pulled away from each other.

“Now what’s all this about a surprise?”

You smiled and led her to the study.

“I was planning on a picnic at sunset but with the rain-”

You opened the door to the study and Sigrid gasped.

“Y/n, this is beautiful!”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid most of the credit goes to your father and brother. They set everything up.”

Sigrid leaned in for a quick kiss before walking over to where the basket was set up. You grabbed the wine and joined her.

You gave her the flowers and she smiled before bringing them up to her nose to smell them.

“Mmm, my favorites!”

You chuckled lightly.

“I know, that’s why I got them.”

You pulled out the books and the food with a smile.

“Dig in!”

Two hours later and you were both very relaxed, any and all stress melting away in each other’s company. Even just reading together was enough to relax you both completely, but the talking was better.

There was a gentle lull in the conversation as you leaned back on the pillows and Sigrid leaned back on you. Looking up at the lanterns above you decided it was time.

Taking a deep breath you gently helped Sigrid sit up.

“My love?”

“I wanted to ask you a question.” Well, looks like you were getting right into it.

Sigrid turned to face you completely.

“I actually had a question for you too.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably better if I ask my question first.” You turned to your pocket to get the ring for a moment and when you looked back to Sigrid your jaw dropped. She was looking down at her lap nervously.

In her hand was a ring.

“I wanted to ask if you would-” she cut off when she looked up and saw what you were holding.

You locked eyes for a moment, staring at each other with disbelief before you both burst into laughter. Sigrid bent over double and you were wheezing violently.

“Looks like we had similar plans my dear!” you gasped out when you could finally breathe again.

“I guess so!” Sigrid said as she continued to laugh, which set you off again.

When you had both finally calmed down you looked back up at Sigrid. She had tears in her eyes.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” You chuckled.

“Yes!” Sigrid yelled as she tackled you backward with a kiss. It was long and sweet. When you finally resurfaced for air you both sat up and you held out your ring for Sigrid to see.

“Y/n...” she breathed out “it’s stunning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” You said as you took her hand in yours.

You gently slid the ring on her finger and you smiled at each other.

“Now where’s mine?”

-

-

-

-

Extra:

“YOU WERE GOING TO PROPOSE?!?!?!?”

“Bain, calm down,” Bard said with a poorly concealed smile and you and Tilda stifled giggles as the conversation went on.

“SHE WAS GOING TO PROPOSE!!! AND SHE DIDN’T TELL US!!”

“As I already told you, I wasn’t planning on it yet but I figured if I was getting some alone time with-”

“YOU HAD A RING AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME! Y/N TOLD ME AND SHE’S NOT EVEN MY SISTER YET! BETRAYAL! YOU BETRAYED ME! MY OWN SISTER!”

You and Tilda began to openly laugh at this and Bard was also struggling to hold back laughter.

“I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE MARRYING Y/N! AT LEAST THEN I’LL HAVE A DECENT SISTER! WHO TELLS ME THINGS!”

“Hey! What am I, an orc?” Tilda cried, indignant.

Bard came to stand beside you as you watched a new round of bickering unfold.

“Are you sure you want to join this family?” He asked with a laugh.

“Positive.” you cackled in reply.

[bumblingbeasblackhole]

Why Momo Yaoyorozu would have been a more effective hero as a plus size woman.

Hello all, it’s time for a BNHA rant. A rant in my opinion that is long over due, and that my friends is on one of my favorite characters in the franchise. Momo Yaoyorozu AKA Creati.

Buckle up lads were in for a hefty analysis. (Note the read more) I promise it’s worth the read.

Now, we all know Class 1-A’s vice class rep and resident braniac Momo.

Just in case you’re new here or need a refresher, Momo’s Quirk is called Creation. The basic breakdown of her quirk is that her body uses the Lipids (fats) in her body to create any inorganic material of her choosing.

Now, there’s two key things to remember about her quirk.

First, her quirk requires her to use her physical body reserves in order to function

Second, she has to know how to make those matierals. From bottom to top. That means she has to not only have a design of what she wants in her head but the exact molecular compounds to create those objects as well.

Momo to her credit does this well. She’s been flushed out slightly enough to see various instances where she’s had to improve either on her knowledge of materials and compounds or her speed to achieve the full creation of an item. It’s something we see from her constantly in both the Manga and the Anime.

For example, the first time we are (formally) introduced to Momo’s quirk she creates a few items

A staff for herself, a sword for Jirou, a net to contain the thugs, a thick insulated blanket large enough to cover both her and Jirou, and finally the remembrance of her hero suit.

These items all together begin to wear Momo out as she’s left panting and even tells Jirou that she has a hard time creating such taxing objects on her body. This is stated to the audience the first time we see her in action. It takes her time, concentration, and most importantly her body’s lipid reserves.

This is the first time we see Momo wear herself rather thin. While this in itself is impressive and a great introduction into the character and her abilities and strategic wit in a battle, the rather more harmful implications are yet to be seen. This incident, while foreshadowing her later issues, does not compare to other instances later on the series.

There are three key issues with Momo as she is currently.

Her body/character design inherently limit her abilities as a hero.

The push for her to be a sexy hero/character is ultimately determinetal to her effectiveness as both a character and a hero.

Her intellect is not reflected by the way she operates as a hero. Instead, it is often negated for the sake of her design.

These points seem vague or over harped but I’ll go into detail about them. (Hang in there, this is well thought out and developed, I promise)

But before I get into the key issues and solutions, there’s a lot that’s absolutely fantastic about Momo.

Momo is a great character because she is more than the typical snobby rich girl trope. In fact, she’s not at all snobby. She is the most helpful, kind, and oblivious rich character I’ve ever seen. It’s part of her personality sure, but it’s not the only factor. It’s more or less just a gag for laughs between the other characters.

She is also relatable in the way she has self worth issues, different from Midoriya’s self worth issues. She was never (that were aware of) beaten down or belittled. Her issues sprouted from the way she was confident in her abilities, intellect, and quirk only to be thrown in the deepend UA.

Which idk about y’all, but honestly that shit hits home. If you were ever the smart-kid-who-learned-quickly-and-skated-through-school-only-to-be-out-of-your-depth-with-new-self-worth-issues-when-that-is-no-longer-the-case (or anything similar) than you catch my drift. So score for relatability.

Alas, onwards.

Let’s tackle the first problem.

The way she treats her body now is detrimental to her quirk usage long term.

I’ll explain,

Momo’s quirk functions relatively similar to another hero we are later introduced too, Fatgum.

Now I know what you’re already thinking,

“Bea! She’s supposed to be sexy! She’s supposed to be feminine! Her quirk burns it all so she can look like that! Fatgum has to only store it all!”

On some levels you’re right.

On most though, incredibly wrong.

Momo’s figure is one of the main (and slightly controversial) aspects of her character. I mean, look at her design versus Fatgum’s

See the key differences? I sure do.

Fatgum’s quirk is called Fat Absorbtion. Basically it grants Fatgum the ability to adhere any objects to his body and make them sink into his body fat upon contact with it. And/Or he can build and channel all of the fat in his body into one overpowered and energized punch or attack. (As seen in the overhaul arc) which leaves his body, you guessed it, deprecated and thin. Much like Momo’s, they both use their body’s fat as a tool whether through expelling it or storing it for later use.

I point this out because we see time and time again throughout the series where Momo pushed herself to the limit where she has to expel extraordinary amounts of her body to get the job done. But in reality she only makes a few larger objects. This compared to Fatgum who uses his fat reserves strategically and only in the toughest of battles does he push his body’s reserves to zero. Whereas Momo does this constantly. This is because of her inefficient way of treating her quirk and ultimately, her design.

Let’s discuss some prime examples:

In the training camp arc, Momo makes roughly 15-30 masks for all of Class B students, and half of Class A. Which in itself is a tall order. When we see her again, she’s bloodied, exhausted, barely conscious, worn, and welded to Awase half alive. She even struggles as she makes the tiny tracker she places on the back of the Nomu. After this, in the hospital (pre Kamino rescue) she was unconscious for a day and half due to quirk overuse and dehydration.

Third, in the first movie, My Hero Academia: Two Heroes, we once again see Momo’s fatal flaw as she and a group of Class 1-A students race through the security tower on I-island. She uses her quirk to make cannons of course, a Momo signature, to fend off the security bots fairly early on in the battle. As she continues to make ammo and other items needed to win the battle Momo teeters on the brink of passing out from, you guessed it, dehydration and starvation. Jirou ends up catching Momo as she’s nearly passes out from the lack of fat/substance in her body after making the cannon and ammo.

Then we see the same issue in the second movie My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising. Where Momo is used both to create extra supplies on the island. She passes out after that alone and only wakes up later as the class is regrouping after four villains attack simultaneously. Even after rest and food, we see her later again to make two massive cannons as the first line of defense against the incoming villains. From the start of the second battle Momo is worn out and clearly lacking in lipids to participate fully in a fight. Here, she even keels over and says that she’s at her limit and looks like she’s on the brink of death via dehydration and starvation. Which she very much is.

We also so see this in Provisonal Licensing Exam arc when Momo, Tsu, Jirou, and Shoji are trapped together by a group from another school. Here this is important because the leader of that group has super intelligence granted to her by her quirk (and tea lol) has come up with a “fool proof” plan to beat the group. The bottom line of that plan is simple. Wear. Momo. Out. Which half way works too, until Momo figures out what the other group is trying to do and thinks her way out of that situation. Although, she does use up a decent amount of her body’s reserves before she figures out their plan.

^^^ this scene brings up an extremely concerning point. If a villain knows what her quirk is, and has i don’t know, seen her, then they’re going to do the exact same thing Saiko (the girl in the photo above from the licensing exam arc) attempted to do. Exhaust Momo’s resources.

Now, this has been brought up once in the actual show. During the training camp arc, we see each students training method (designed by Aizawa) in order to overwork and strengthen their quirks. For Momo, that looked like binge eating and creating simultaneously.

This also shows us that Aizawa is at least somewhat paying attention to the drawbacks of her quirk. He may not have been there for some of the more concerning times she’s over worked herself, but it’s not a hard thing to work out just by how she looks and how her quirk functions. He also sees how her speed with her quirk hindered her like in her battle against Tokoyami. However, this is the only time we see this. Plus, this is not nearly enough of solution to the problem. Which in all honesty is simple.

For all intensive purposes, Momo should be a Plus Sized woman.

Not just for diversity or validity of readers. Although it would have been a score for the plus size community since it’s always lacking here for us bad bitches but because it would have been more natural to her character. If she had a bulkier physique or even just a chubbier build she would be way more effective in a battle or even just as a hero.

Her quirk burns the fat in her body instantly while in use. Which means she needs to have a healthy reserve of it at all times, especially since I’m willing to bet her metabolism is crazy fast. Relying on the normal/average caloric intake is irrational for her quirks functionality. Her diet should look more like Fatgum’s where we see him constantly eating in order to fuel his quirk. At the very least, Momo needs to always have foods dense in fats on hand in case she’s in a dire situation where she’s running low on reserves. She would be much more effective that way. I cannot tell you the amount of times I’ve watched a scene where she’s wearing herself out and been exasperated by the fact that she didn’t have even a simple granola bar on her for emergencies.

Hear me out,

Plus size people are extremely capable of doing extraordinary things. As well as also being fit while still having a larger/healthier frame. It’s not all that uncommon. In fact, it’s something that fictional storytelling (an ex machina if you will) isn’t needed in order to cover the realistic applications. There are plenty of people in the word who are of a larger build and are also active, fit, and in overall good health standing.

In real life, Ashley Graham is an excellent example. For those who aren’t privy to this goddess, she’s a plus size model, mother, and fitness enthusiast.

Here’s just a taste of this wonderful goddesses workouts can look like:

(Credit Instagram : @ashleygharam)

Which brings me to my next point

The need for Momo to be sexy is detrimental to her effectiveness as both a hero and as a character.

I know, I know, half of Momo’s whole thing is being sexy, rich, and oblivious. I’m well aware.

But here’s a fun tidbit. Plus size women can be sexy too! Shocker I know! Sarcasm aside, having Momo be a plus size woman wouldn’t hinder her sex appeal if done correctly. In fact, I think it would only make her more appealing, marketable, and effective narratively.

Not that she really needs to be sexy at all, but we will swing back to that.

Remember Ashley Graham? The model I mentioned like a paragraph ago? Well, she’s an example that plus size women can be just as sexy/attractive as anyone else. Which only proves that Momo could still have been an attractive character even as a plus size woman. In fact, it would have been uplifting to see a plus size character who’s whole gag isn’t revolved around them losing weight to fit a societal goal, but instead a character who is plus sized, healthy, and proud. Who utilizes her body in a positive manner. I mean imagine the marketablility to younger audiences! If you still don’t believe me that a plus size woman can still be attractive and show skin like Momo would ultimately have to do in order to use her quirk, check out Ashley motherfuckin Graham doing just that

No matter how they would have gone on to design her as a plus size character, she could have still been stunning. Even if they kept her in the same costume design! Which is garbage but that’s a tangent for another time

But beyond equality and all that good stuff:

Momo being a plus size woman would mean she would have more ability for long term endurance in a battle. As it stands now, Momo taps out of a battle fairly fast. She’s tends to make one larger item and then she’s tapped. Which is highly inefficient in a battle. If anything it seems to be on par with how Midoriya’s quirk affected him in the beginning of the series. He had to sacrifice a part of his body in order to land an effective attack. Sound familiar? Well yeah. Because Momo does the same thing with Creation and she’s had it for years.

Each time Momo over uses her quirk, she’s left on the brink of passing out, if she hadn’t already, leaving her vulnerable and useless in the field alone. Each time she’s pushed herself past her limit she’s had her classmates to catch her when she falls. That’s not practical. Aizawa said it himself in the quirk apprehension test way back in chapter 6 of the manga.

So why is Momo considered differently? Why doesn’t Aizawa say something? Simple. He’s typically not around for these occurrences.

Momo doesn’t have to over use her quirk in simulations. She only does that when there’s real stakes and people on the line. The issue with that is that once she leaves UA, the stakes will always be real, all the time. Isn’t now the best time to nip this issue in the bud? I think so. But also I understand how Aizawa either hasn’t fully caught on, or hasn’t dealt with it. I mean, between villain attacks and our main character constantly almost killing himself recklessly in battle, he’s got a lot on his plate.

The other issue with her “sexy” design is that it negates from her overall character. In all official art we see for BNHA we see Momo typically left out, or hypersexualized. This detracts from her substance of being intelligent and creative. She’s often the butt of the joke when it comes to Mineta’s perverted jokes/schemes as well. Between the cheerleader outfits incident and the locker room scene Momo is constantly written off. Whereas Midnight, a pro hero and teacher at UA, who is known for her sexiness and uses it as her brand, uses her sexuality effectively without diminishing her actual worth as a hero or teacher. But then again Midnight is an adult, who is branded as the 18+ hero. Momo is a student and minor. But y’all still aren’t ready for that conversation yet.

Which brings me to the final point of this long winded rant. (Thanks if you’ve stuck around this long! We’re almost done! Follow me if you don’t already. I write stuff, paint stuff, and theorize/analyze stuff for bnha)

The way Momo is now, Discounts/Negates her supposed intellect

As I’ve mentioned already in this rant, how Momo operates now isn’t working out so well on her favor.

But that doesn’t really make sense considering she’s so fucking intelligent. I mean she’s literally top of the class academically. There is no reason for her to be so brilliant and also so bullheaded in her own quirk use. She shows us time and time again that she has brain power. Her quirk requires she be extremely intelligent in order to comprehend and apply molecular compounds in order to even sort of correctly use her quirk.

So it makes no sense that such simple solutions evade her constantly. Like I find it extremely hard to believe that Momo has never thought, “hmm I’m on the brink of death, maybe I should have eaten more” or “the last few battles left me weak, maybe I should find a solution or ask a teacher,” or even “man, my endurance isn’t all that great. I should work on that,” like anything along those lines would lead her intelligent brain to the conclusion that since whatever caloric intake she’s doing now is far to easy to burn through and perhaps the simple solution is to gain more fatty mass.

It honestly discounts Momo as a character if she’s constantly breaking down when such a simple solution is available to her. Plus on a more lighthearted note, it would be kind of great for Momo to be old money rich and plus sized. I mean it would be kind of ironically hilarious in my opinion.

Okay Bea, so what’s the point?

The point my friends is that female characters can be so much more. Especially Momo. There is always an opportunity for characters like Momo and Ochako (who’ll I’ll be breaking down next/soon) to have more substanse and impact to them than just being the second line of defense sexy characters.

Even in the actual universe that is BNHA, Momo as a hero student has far more potential than she is currently operating at.

Now, don’t get me wrong I understand that Horikoshi has a plateful of characters to deal with and Momo is probably on the bottom of the list, but it doesn’t mean we can’t imagine more for her. Because honestly it doesn’t even really matter if she changes for the better or not in canon, it’s the idea that there’s a character out there who all people can relate to whether it be average watchers/readers, plus size hopefuls, people with insecurities, readers/viewers who just like her quirk/design, or someone like me who saw a character and gravitated to the mostly relatable way she was written.

I love Momo as a character truly, she’s one of my favorites and I heavily associate with her. (Shocker I know, I mean she’s literally my icon that I painted myself) I am in no way tearing the character, franchise, or Horikoshi down. I am just observing what could have been (or could be but probably not) and pointing it out. So that maybe, just maybe, in the future there will be more characters who others can relate too. Other characters who are used at their full inspirational potential. But also, to point out some things that not only round out perspective on a character, but maybe even highlight how worth it it can be to look deeper into a characters through analysis. Hopefully I’ve done at least one of those things through this long post.

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Finally, thank you if you read this far into my gigantic breakdown.

Follow me if you don’t already and want too. If you do already follow me, please reblog so that others can read it if they want too.

I plan on doing more character breakdowns for BNHA, I’ve got a few already in the drafts and a cc if you have suggestions or questions. I also write fics for BNHA, so check out my AO3 link on my blog page for that. Also, you can bet your ass I’ll be writing a plus size Momo fic sometime soon. I’m really inspired on the topic (if you couldn’t tell already).