#I DID NOT FUCKING SIGN UP FOR THIS I LITERALLY FORGOT EVERYTHING BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I DID CHEMISTRY WAS TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO

[spineless-lobster]

*shaking, emerging from a trench covered in blood with tears streaming down my face*

what… what is an intramolecular bond?

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall. 

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up. 

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-" 

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?" 

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock." 

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs." 

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants." 

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?" 

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all." 

*

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager. 

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously." 

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-" 

Dustin starts squealing. 

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat. 

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?" 

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve." 

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. 

"Baker boy, hi!" 

Steve's mouth goes dry. 

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone. 

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves. 

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner? 

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?" 

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk. 

"Told you I was the best." 

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-" 

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?" 

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-" 

"We'd love to stay!" 

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy. 

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?" 

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate. 

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite." 

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!" 

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-" 

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor." 

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first." 

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though." 

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail. 

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

[rinniessance]

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo

leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.

this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮

꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱

it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.

“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.

“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”

“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”

slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.

“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”

you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.

“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.

“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”

“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”

“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”

“more amazing news.”

hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.

“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.

“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.

you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.

in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.

you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).

after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).

with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.

just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.

“no way.”

the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.

tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.

leon, you better be still fucking alive.

leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.

“good morning, sunshine.”

leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.

“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.

“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”

“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”

it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.

sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.

just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.

to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.

“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.

“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”

“his partner.”

“no one.”

two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.

“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”

you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.

“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.

“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.

“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”

“okay, great, no time to waste.”

kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.

you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.

before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.

“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.

“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.

running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.

“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.

“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.

“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.

“shit, she’s burning up.”

“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”

“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”

two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.

“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”

satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.

“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.

“here.”

leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.

“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.

“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.

“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.

“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”

“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.

gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.

“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.

“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.

“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.

satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.

kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.

“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.

agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.

“finger her.”

leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.

“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”

gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.

“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”

you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.

you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.

“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.

“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”

the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.

“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”

and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.

both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.

“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.

“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.

“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”

you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.

“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.

“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.

“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.

“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.

“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.

leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.

“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.

“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.

you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.

“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.

“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.

“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.

you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.

“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.

your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.

“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.

you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.

“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.

as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.

tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.

“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”

he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.

© rinniessance do not steal, plagiarize or translate my works. do not recommend me on tiktok, thank you

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem! reader - PART SIX.FIVE

Six is my lucky number so hopefully you all enjoy the new only-exists-for-smut .5 🫠🫠🫠 sorry this took forever. I kept wanting to end it on a story-building note but couldn’t ever settle on one that I liked, so it is what it is for now.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / sex toys / bondage / fingering / p! In v! / oral f! & m! Receiving / multiple orgasms / it’s a .5 chapter it literally exists solely for the sake of smut so have fun besties / super jealous Ken / rough sex / possessive / spanking / pet names (baby girl) (good girl) / praise / edging / overstim / exhaustion

Ooooohhhhh no no no no….

It was the first day of your Fall flex term class. You still had your normal Fall/Winter full time classes happening but you had decided to sign up for the new four-week course as well, since the professor was a favorite author of yours and you didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to learn from her.

Ken had been with you most of the day. His job at the bubble tea shop was fascinating to him and he asked if he come come to campus with you to explain how magical his first day of work was because he felt being stuck at home would be too boring.

You got to your classroom and turned to Ken. “Alright, you can go hang at the library or something, it’s right next to this building and I’ll come get you when class is over.”

Your new professor heard you as she was walking down the hallway to the classroom herself.

“Oh, he can hang out in class, I don’t mind,” she smiled. “It’s a huge classroom so I’m sure one of seats towards the top back corners will be available if you wanted to stay.”

You wanted to ponder this invite for a moment but Ken had already smiled back and was walking in front of you into the classroom. He was able to have a seat towards the back like the professor had suggested, and he settled in to see what a day in class looked like.

The classroom was one of those giant theater-like seating arenas and echoed a decent amount anytime anyone was talking, so it was definitely echo-y today as students filed in and began sitting down and visiting with their new classmates around them.

The clock was about to hit what was the start time for class when a last person walked into the room and you suddenly regretted choosing a seat towards the front, only because maaayybbee he somehow wouldn’t notice who you were and then Ken wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown of finding out who this guy was. Because of course Ken is attending a class…with you in it…and your ex Dave was now walking over to the professor as she handed him some papers.

The professor introduced herself to the class and motioned towards Dave, who sat near the front of the room as well, and told everyone he would be her TA for the semester.

“Don’t notice me,” you pleaded in your head. You weren’t worried about him, oh no. Dave was honestly a super cool guy and even though your relationship had mostly focused on having fun and sex, you had both parted ways awhile ago on good terms and you hadn’t even considered that he probably still attended school here, as, if you remembered correctly, he would probably be graduating either later this year or early next year. It made sense why he was here, but what was going to not make sense was probably how jealous Ken would get if he found out that this Dave was the Dave he had already had a mild breakdown over.

“Holy….y/n?” He did notice, fuck.

You smiled and greeted him softly, knowing Ken could easily see everything but hearing might be a different matte- oh wait no, the room echoed.

“It’s so good to see you again!”

“You, too! I forgot you hadn’t graduated yet so seeing you is a surprise,” you said cheerily.

“A good surprise, right?” He chuckled and winked.

“For sure.”

He handed you a piece of paper. “This is today’s sign-in sheet. Can you start it and then pass it around?”

“Of course.” You took the paper from his hand and began scribbling your name down.

“Hey, this guy won’t stop looking at you.”

You looked at Dave then looked over your shoulder. Yep, of course Ken had noticed.

“Yeah, uh, that’s my boyfriend. He gets kinda fixated on something at times.”

“Like you?”

“That’s…accurate.”

Dave laughed. “I love it. He looks fun. I wish I could pull pink off as well as he does.”

You laughed a little then and smiled at Ken before turning your attention back to the sheet and passed it once you had finished writing your name and email.

Your phone vibrated against your hip and you pulled the phone from your pocket, already knowing who it would be. You had bought him a phone last week and he wasn’t usually on it very much but he was most definitely going to be using it during class now….

“Do you know him?” (Ken)

“Yes. Old friend. Just saying hi.” (You)

“Old fiend named Dave.” (Ken)

“Old friend, not fiend.” (You)

“Same Dave that I know about?” (Ken)

“And this is important because..?” (You)

“Because you’ll be in a class with him for three days each week for the next month.” (Ken)

“Yeah that’s how class works, Ken.” (You)

“I don’t like it.” (Ken)

“You don’t have to.” (You)

“What if he wants to study together?” (Ken)

“He won’t. That’s not how TA / student relationships work.” (You)

“But he still goes to class here? So he would want to study for another class.” (Ken)

“Baby I gotta put my phone away, they’re not really allowed to be active on during class. Don’t worry. You know I love you.” (You)

“Come sit with me, at least.” (Ken)

You had already silenced your phone and put it in your book bag before the last text got sent so you could focus on the lecture. Ken knew you hadn’t seen the last text and tried to keep his internal anxiety at bay.

He wished this awful man from your previous affairs wasn’t sitting in class, distracting every fiber of his being, because the lecture actually sounded interesting, especially since the teacher kept referencing a book called “Black Beauty,” which was apparently about a horse. Ken would have to ask you about it later, and definitely check it out of the library.

Ken noticed every little thing Dave did, as apparently the TA sat at the front of the class as well close to the teacher’s desk and facing the class. Ken set his jaw when he saw Dave subtly glance your way multiple times, and most definitely watched the one time Dave’s gaze focused just a *little * too long in your direction. Ken knew from personal experience was it looked like to fuck someone with your eyes.

Class wasn’t *that* long but felt like an eternity for Ken. The moment the professor dismissed everyone, he was by your side, picking up your book bag for you and holding you close to him by your waist.

“Hey baby. Did you like the lecture?” You asked, genuinely wanting to know since you had assumed he would have loved it, but were also attempting a distraction as you two were walking out of the room. You intentionally didn’t bid the professor or Dave goodbye, simply leaving the class like everyone else.

You cursed under your breath when Dave caught up with the two of you right as you were about to exit.

“Hey, man, I’m Dave.” He flashed a million-dollar smile and extended his hand at Ken. Thankfully Ken had become a little better at hiding his emotions due consistent socialization between your friends and working at the boba tea shop, but he could only keep his disdain for this man hidden so much.

Ken shook his hand but his blue eyes glanced at you, wanting to see your reaction to Dave standing so close.

“I have to get to my next class,” you said nonchalantly. “See ya next time.”

Dave nodded. “I look forward to it.”

You walked briskly out the door, knowing Ken would follow because he wasn’t about to release his grip on your waits, and the two of you exited the building into the day’s sunshine.

“I don’t like him,” Ken repeated.

“I know, baby. Listen,” you sat on a bench and Ken sat beside you, his leg pressing into yours. “I know this stresses you out, and that’s okay, but you can’t hold this over me.”

Ken’s eyes met yours, and you could tell he was trying so hard to maintain his anxious composure, to make sure you were happy with him.

You took his face in your hands. “I love you. I don’t care about Dave. I haven’t in a really long time. These flex term classes are short, but they’re intense. I have to be in every class and studying is going to take up a lot of my time, so I need you to understand nothing is going to happen between me and Dave.”

Ken nodded, but you could tell it was as if he felt like you had verbally slapped him in the face. You knew he needed more validation than you might be able to offer him for awhile, and despite how much that made you sad, you were also trying to set a boundary so the fact that you were attending this class wouldn’t be something that stressed *both* of you out every day.

“I don’t think that *he* is thinking that way,” Ken said, trying to hide the jerkiness in his voice.

“That’s not my problem to worry about. I won’t let him do anything to me.”

Ken seemed almost sheepish in his reply, as if knowing he shouldn’t say it but he couldn’t stop himself. “You promise?”

“More than anything.”

Ken’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he nodded. “Okay.”

You gave him a chaste kiss before taking your book bag from him. “I gotta get to my next class. I’ll see you at home, alright?”

He smiled and nodded as you walked away, and you felt irritated that he didn’t have work today. At least that probably would have helped distract and maybe even calm him.

Your phone rang right as you were about to enter an elevator.

“Hey, Ken.”

“Do you want anything from the store?”

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Ken’s chest grew tight again when he heard a now-familiar voice in the background of your phone.

“Hey, hold the door!” Dave called out.

“Don’t hold the door for him.” Ken had a lightning bolt of anxiety rip through him.

“Ken, it’s fine. I love you.”

“Don’t hang up, please.”

You had dropped your phone back into your book bag before hearing his last words, but unfortunately, your finger hadn’t tapped the End Call button hard enough, so the phone call remained on. The conversation was muffled, but not muffled enough to where Ken couldn’t make out every word.

“Sup.”

“I honesty don’t miss hearing you saying that,” you said lighting in a joking manner.

“Ahh!” Dave made a dramatic show of gripping his heart with his hand. “That hurt.”

“Knock it off, Dave.” Your voice remained light. He wished you had sneered instead.

“So how long you been with blondie? He legit gives off vibes that you captured him on the beach.”

“Is he a student here?”

“No, but we live together.”

“Ah, cool! I heard awhile back from Amber that you had moved off-campus.”

“Amber would be correct.”

“So, you two, uh, doing well?” Dave leaned into the elevator wall, shoulders hunching a little, trying to look relaxed.

“Very.”

“Cool, cool. Just asking.” There was a long silence until, “If you ever, like, need anything -“

“Thanks, Dave, I’ll let you know.” Ken knew you had smiled at him. He knew the sound of your voice when you did. Fuck, if only he hadn’t left campus and knew what building you were in.

Ken heard the sound of shuffling and he held his breath as he heard Dave’s next words.

“You look, like, really fucking good, y/n.”

“Dave -“

“You have just a little, uh, strand of hair -“

“I got it, thanks.”

“I could get it for you -“

“I’m good.”

“Fine,” Dave relented, and the elevator bell dinged, indicating you had reached your floor. Right before the doors opened, however, “You’re not planning on regulating that pretty pussy of yours to beach guy forever, right?”

For whatever reason, the phone call cut off then. Ken stood on the sidewalk, frozen.

He sat at home on the sofa that sat in the living room, facing the front door, willing you to walk in early despite knowing you never missed a class and that you were never home before 6:30 on Tuesdays.

He knew he shouldn’t but he had called you multiple times, every call going to voicemail. He knew you never answered during class, but fuck it, he had lost his will to care today. Sitting in the silence of the empty house only fueled his imagination.

The call cutting off because you had noticed it was still on, and Dave touching you in the elevator. You deciding to miss classes for the first time in your life to have him fuck you in his dorm room, doing whatever the hell Amber had subtly referred to. You laughing about him, for whatever reason, with Dave as the two of you lay in a naked, tangled heap.

The front door finally opened, Ken having lost track of time as he had stared at it, lost in his thoughts that had become more and more upsetting as the seconds ticked by. His attention was drawn back sharply as he heard the door close, and he realized he had been gripping both of his thighs tightly with his hands.

He must have looked as unhappy as he felt because your face immediately became concerned upon seeing him.

“Hey, Ken, are you okay?”

He was on you in a moment, rage tearing through him. “What did he do to you?”

You legitimately looked completely confused, having no idea he had heard the call, and also having zero guilt about anything having happening during the day.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dave. What. Did. He. Do. To. You.”

“What…how would he have done anything to me?”

“I heard you. And him. Your phone didn’t hang up.”

Ohhh. “If you heard it then you know nothing happened.”

“It hung up when he mentioned your hair.”

“He didn’t touch me.”

“Promise?”

“Goddammit, Ken, I don’t have to promise.”

“He tried, though. He wanted to touch you. He wants you to leave me.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s fair. That doesn’t mean- “

Ken picked you up roughly, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding your ass as he slammed your back into the door. “Mine.”

You whimpered as his teeth sank into your neck. You always internally battled on whether you should be firm with him and tell him to grow up or if you should encourage this behavior, and somehow the middle ground always won, at least for now.

“Ken, we’ve been over this,” you said, your own moan cutting you off as he sucked hard on your skin, bucking his hard clothed budge into into your panty covered core. You really needed to stop wearing short skirts so often.

“Mine,” he growled again, storming into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, his chest flexing and puffed out.

“I fucking know, Ken,” you threw back at him before your back arched and you cried out, Ken having pushed your legs open and brought his hand down to spank your pussy. You saw stars as he did it again and you writhed underneath him as he pressed his hands into your hips, holding you down.

“Ken,” you whimpered again as he snuck two fingers under your panties, rubbing them back and forth firmly.

“You’re already so wet,” he panted, eyes on fire. “Were you this wet in the elevator?”

You visibly rolled your eyes but shut them tightly when his hand came down on your core again. You gripped his forearms in your hands when he dipped two fingers into your opening with ease, and you moaned loudly as he pushed them roughly deeper into you, immediately curling them into your special spot.

“Are you thinking about him right now?” He seethed, and you shook your head, unable to verbally reply through your moans, your head swimming with how sudden all of these sensations were.

“You’re only thinking about me?” He persisted.

“Yes,” you managed to squeak, his fingers quickening their pace.

“You’ll only think about me?”

You cried out loudly when he leaned over to wrap his hand around your throat as his hips leaned against his own fingers buried inside you, thrusting them into his hand so he could easily finger-fuck you harder.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Ken,” you choked out, your body already nearing shudders.

“You’ll prove it to me, then.”

Your legs began to shake a little, your walls clenching around his fingers. He could tell you were about to reach your peak.

“How long can you hold out on me? To prove you’ll only think about me because you’re so exhausted from begging for your release, staring in my eyes, knowing every single touch is coming only from me?” He pulled his fingers out of you then, and your eyes shot open, your body in shock from being suddenly ravaged to being denied its release.

“Oh, fuck, Ken.” Your head fell back into the mattress, already frustrated beyond belief. “Please, please -“

“Good girl. We’re off to a strong start.”

He flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your legs to hang over the bed so you were bent over for him. His hand came up between your legs to spank you again and the sharp sensation on your clit had you instinctively close your legs, your back arching as his other hand down your lower back down.

“Keep them open for me,” Ken warned, a shudder running through you at his tone.

You slowly began to do as he said when he nudged his legs between yours, opening them for him and keeping them open by planting his feet firmly on the ground.

His hand snapped up to meet your clit again and you gripped the sheets tightly as it came back for a third time, your legs beginning to tremble.

Ken had his plan - exhaust you, give you the most amazing orgasms of your life, maybe you wouldn’t want to go to class tomorrow, even though me know you would go. So, make sure every time you moved even the slightest movement that you’d feel him - make you sore, but just the right amount to where you’d try not to squirm in public but maybe you’d get wet from remembering how good he could make you feel.

You felt his hand that was holding you down remove itself from your back and he kneeled between your shaking legs, pulling your panties aside. You cried out loudly, your body in awe, as he pressed his full tongue into your clit, the warmth traveling all through your core.

Oh, fuck, you didn’t know anything could feel like this. Your nerves being so violently stimulated beforehand Made you be about to feel absolutely everything as his lips wrapped around your bud and sucked gently. He moaned into you when he heard the high pitched noise you made, very pleased with himself, and he gently held your hips as his tongue ravaged you.

“Holy fuck…Yes…aahhh…yes, Ken…oh…thank you, Ken…”

You could have cried when he pulled back, kissing up your spine then flipping you onto your back again.

You weren’t used to actually being edged. You had only experienced it once with, of all people, Dave. It had been fun but also absolutely mentally and physically exhausted you, and right now you were insanely frustrated, especially after feeling whatever that was.

“You should just let me come,” You huffed, looking Ken right in the eye as he brought the ties out from the drawer, his muscles clenching.

“Mmmm, maybe later.” He ripped your clothes off except your panties before grabbing one of your arms, deciding to tie you up differently tonight. Instead of tying your wrists together, tied your single wrist to the far side of the headboard. He straddled you as he reached for your other one and began wrapping the tie around -

“By not giving me my orgasm, you’re only encouraging me to think of Dave.” If he wanted to play jealousy games, fine. You’d fuel them then.

Ken gave you a dangerous look, his eyes darkening, waiting in silence for you to explain.

“So tie me up, edge me, then. Have your fun.”

“You know I’m waiting for you to finish that thought.”

“Mmmhmmm.” You tried not to grin up at him.

“So,” he slammed your wrist onto the bed above your head, lowering his face to hover above yours, “fucking finish it.”

You sighed with intention. “It’s just that, nobody has ever edged me before. Except Dave.”

You don’t think you could have explained the energy that washed over Ken in that moment if you tried. But you had won. If he was going to keep struggling with jealousy towards you, then you would make it work in your favor instead of stressing you out…at least for now. Ken was already too far gone when you’d come through the door to calm, so, hey…seeing what he’d cooked up in his mind wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

You felt your arm being jerked upward as it was securely fastened to the opposite side of the headboard, and you wanted to protest for the fun of it but you were actually tied up to where you couldn’t move your upper body, save for being able to lift your head.

“Looks like I have a little more work to do than I had originally thought,” Ken spat as he knotted the remaining ties around your ankles, also securing them to the foot of the bed so you were splayed out naked for him, unable to move.

“You better make this worth it,” You sighed again as if bored. “I’m supposed to be studying -“

You were cut off as you moaned loudly, Ken pulling the strip of your panties covering your heat to the side as his mouth clamped onto your clit, sucking hard. Ken’s mind was a rush of anger, of passion, of - goddammit, would this stupid fear of you leaving him actually ever leave him - and all he could see in his mind’s eye was Dave doing this to you, holding you hostage in your own bed, tasting your juices, feeling your perfect skin and muscles under his tongue, taking in your scent as you moaned and squealed and attempted to writhe despite your restraints.

He was so easily lost in you. He thought of untying you then, wanting to feel your hands in his hair, feeling the different tugs when he hit different areas of pleasure, holding your hips up to him in an almost bruising grip. But no, he had to remember his plans for you for now.

He felt dizzy as he licked thick stripes up and down, your vocal reactions becoming louder, and he lost track of time when he began to tongue fuck you, getting into a rhythm that was making you feel crazy as you got lost in the pleasure as well.

He pulled back only enough to speak, his lips still brushing against your folds. “Tell me how good I make you feel, y/n.” He dove back in immediately, desperate to hear your voice as he consumed you - it made him feel so warm and so hard, your breathy, often barely coherent words soothing his anxiety, making him get lost in you even more.

You didn’t reply, at least not with words. Your moaning continued for a moment then paused with another frustration huff from you when he pulled back again.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he commanded a little louder. Maybe you hadn’t heard him the first time.

You remained silent other than your breathing, which you were working to calm down.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he said for the third time, his voice betraying his anxiety when the last word ended on a note that sounded like a question.

He stood up when you kept quiet, leaning over you. “Y/n.”

You looked at him. “Yes, Ken?”

“Why won’t you say it?”

“Why won’t you stop being jealous over things that don’t matter?”

He hardened again then. “They matter to me.”

You stared up at him.

“You’re still thinking about Dave?”

“It’s honestly hard not to when you won’t stop talking about him, Ken.”

He growled. He couldn’t argue with that logic but he hated you pointing it out. He got off you and went back to the drawer and pulled out something you couldn’t see. He walked back to lean himself over you again, holding himself up with his forearm alongside your head.

“Fine, but I’m going to replace your memory of him denying your release with my own.”

You cried out loudly, your body shaking when you felt a strong sensation suddenly being shoved into your panties and pushed onto your clit. Ken held the vibrator on you, watching your reactions, loving how quickly you got lost in them, at how surprising overwhelmed you seem to become within the first few moments.

“You like this?” He breathed.

You couldn’t form words and answered with a string of noises instead, your head thrown back into the mattress as all of your limbs strained desperately against their bounds. Still leaning over you, Ken kissed your exposed throat, sucking ever so gently. He just wanted you to feel him around you.

He knew your orgasm was coming simply by the way in which your breathing was quickening and removed the toy from your panties, the buzzing noise filling your ears and mixing with the white noise swimming inside of them.

“Ken, please,” You started, your voice already sounding raw. He set the toy down on the bed beside you, not bothering to turn it off, so his hand could travel up your waist to your breasts as he kneaded one in his hand and began sucking on the other. Your body seemed to almost relax a little, thankful for the pleasure after having it taken away again.

“Remember when I said you’d have to beg me?” He mumbled around your hardening nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it.

You whined.

“That doesn’t sound like begging.”

“I shouldn’t have to beg for what’s rightfully mine,” you whimpered as his teeth sunk into your tender skin, pulling on the nipple ever so slightly.

Ohh. This was a new mood coming from you, but he loved it.

“Have it your way, then.” He watched you as he inserted the vibrator in your underwear again and you cried out, your entire body doing a delicious shudder, and he got up to straddle your waist. Your panties were snug enough to hold the vibrator against you so he could let go.

“You’re going to beg me, baby girl,” he said as he planted his hands above your head and slowly lowered his cock into your mouth. You moaned loudly, your arms and legs pulling against the restraints as best as they could as he slowly fucked himself into your mouth, watching the way your wet lips wrapped around him as you struggled with the pleasure the vibrator was giving you, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Fuck, he loved you.

He felt himself grow impossibly harder as he watched his clock disappear into your mouth again and again, your loud moans and tiny screams from the vibrator vibrating themselves around his member, and he shuddered. Your eyes flicked up to meet his and he melted, his hand reaching down to wrap in your hair not to hold you still but just to touch you.

He knew you were close again when those high pitched noises started emanating from your throat, and he pulled himself out of your mouth and removed the vibrator from your panties.

You screamed in frustration.

“Why?” You wailed.

“Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

Ken tore the area off your panties apart that covered your opening with his hands and you jumped, surprised. He left the top part intact though, and you cursed loudly, knowing why.

When he sunk his fingers back into you, you wanted to do whatever he wanted just to make sure he kept them there. Maybe you could hide your orgasm approaching…

Your body jerked in the minor ways that it could due to your restraints and Ken watched you, memorizing every way you twitched and moaned.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he cooed, and you did as he asked. “Such a good girl for me.”

“Please, Ken, please let me come this time.” Your voice was a little hoarse again.

“You know how to make that happen.”

“I’m begging, please, please.”

“That’s hardly begging at all.” He slowed his fingers down just enough to where they were caressing inside you, and once again somehow you felt every little movement. Your body felt like it was singing at the immense pleasure washing through you, and your head became so overwhelmed with it that you became completely lost, eyes closed, mumbling and moaning softly as Ken watched you. He’d have to remember to do this to you again, you seemed in absolute bliss.

He had planned to edge you further again with this one but now struggled with the idea. He didn’t know you’d react this beautifully to this, and fuck, you were a perfect angel splayed out so willingly for him, and your body has already taken so much…

Ken fingered your through your orgasm, your body shocked with the fact that it was finally being allowed its climax, and you cried a little as the best orgasm of your life overtook every fiber of your being.

His name escaped your lips in a gorgeous, exhausted whisper during the last few moments of your pleasure, and Ken’s heart danced.

He pulled his fingers out of you softly, your body limp, and climbed on top of you. He kissed you deeply, the back of his knuckled grazing your cheek bone.

“Thank you, Ken,” your words were swallowed by his lips.

“We’re not done yet.” His tongue dipped into your mouth and languishingly explored.

“I’m so tired, Ken.” Your voice cracked as he pulled away just long enough for you to catch a breath before consuming your lips again.

“Good. That’s how I want you to feel.”

“You went sex toy shopping?” Your giggle faltered as soon as it began, head resting itself on Ken’s as his mouth found your neck.

“Mmmhmmm. Which reminds me…”

“Oh, please, please, I can’t-“ You couldn’t form words again after the first few seconds of the vibrator being placed inside your panties again.

“Say my name.” You felt Ken’s hands reach between the two of you to unzip his pants.

“Ken,” you mewled.

“Again, y/n.”

“Ken,” your voice sounded on the edge of tears again.

“One more time.”

You screamed his name as he bottomed out into you with a single thrust, him holding his hips fully against yours without moving for a moment, groaning into your shoulder at how amazing you felt already clenching and spasming around his cock so so damn tightly from the sensations of the vibrator.

“Ohhhh, y/n.” He purred into your neck, remaining still within you, feeling as if you could push him over the edge just like this.

“Need…to…breathe…”

He kissed away a single tear as it rolled down your face. He pulled out the vibrator again, keeping his cock deep inside you.

You thanked him, gasping for air. “It’s…. it’s so much.”

“Mmmhmmm.” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

How far could he push it? What was your cutoff point?

He pulled himself out of you then slowly thrust back in again, a strangled noise escaping your throat. He did it again, and again, maintaining this slower pace.

“You’re doing so well, y/n. My good girl takes me so well.”

Your lower lip trembled and he took it between his lips, sucking gently as his hips slowly picked up their pace. You made little kitten noises with every thrust, Ken’s head swimming with them.

“Need….it’s…too…”

Your mouth opened into a silent scream when you felt the vibrator placed back onto your clit, Ken’s hips still bucking into you.

“You’re going to be fine. Just a little bit longer,” He soothed. He reached up to untie one of your restraints, your arm falling onto the bed, and he intertwined his fingers with your own. He knew you were definitely nearing what you could take because your grip was almost non-existent, just barely closing around his hand.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed into your ear. “I’ll give you what you want if you-“

“Please.” Your blissed out, weary voice was barely a whisper.

“Good girl.”

“Please, please let me come, Ken.”

You climaxed just then, Ken forcing himself to not let his own happen as you tightened so effortlessly around him, calling out his name over and over.

You felt barely coherent as Ken untied you, your eyes closed, feeling your limbs one by one being returned to you. The vibrator was removed and turned off and Ken took off the remainder of the fabric that had once been your underwear.

You felt Ken wrap his arms around you gently, still on top of you, hips still nestled between your legs.

He kissed you deeply as he sunk his cock into you once more, your body shivering with cold sweat.

“Just one more time, y/n.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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Tag List:

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[whomadewaffles]

PART 3 of 3 of my Pjhazel incorrect qoutes! Sadly the last part.. at least for now. I won't say for definite there won't be more cos I adore this movie and this ship especially, but may take some time.

Same things apply to this one as the others, hope these were as fun to read as they were to make! This one became longer than I intended because I just had to add a few new ones too it especially the code names one because It made me chuckle and fit so well.

-----

Pj: I’m in lov—

Pj: Lov—

Pj: I have feelin—

Josie: It’s okay, take your time.

Pj: ...Hazel.

-------

Pj *to hazel*: If I have developed a huge crush on you, that's my business. It literally has nothing to do with you.

--------

Hazel: Autism speaks?

Hazel: Yeah, I never shut the fuck up.

-------

Pj: Horny doesn’t always mean wanting to have sex. Sometimes it means wanting to be beat up or stabbed or something.

-------

Hazel: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.

_______

Pj: I- hm...

Hazel: be nice

Pj: Of course! I'm finding kind words.

Hazel

Pj:....

Hazel:

Pj:...

Hazel: ... it takes you that long to find-

Pj: It does! I'm trying!

--------

Ms. Callahan: You're not good enough for my daughter

Pj: YOU'RE not good enough for your daughter

Ms. Callahan: Excuse me?!

Pj: You heard me

--------

Hazel: I set off explosives to feel joy.

Pj: That's adorable.

-------

Pj *delusional from a punch to the face during fight club*: You have... beautiful eyes..

Hazel *flustered*: She's lost her mind!

------

Hazel: I have no idea what's going on but I am being so brave about it.

-----

Pj *to hazel*: Why do you keep looking me in the eyes? My huge tits are down here

------

Hazel *is sad*

Pj:*looks up “how to comfort someone”*

Website: “Do not make insensitive comments or mock the person”

Pj: Fuck.

-------

Hazel: Are you okay?

Pj: In what aspect? Phisically, no injury whatsoever and no signs of exhaustion. Appearance wise, I'm not just okay, I'm a whole ass meal. We're talking three courses, five stars.

Hazel:

Pj: But mentally? I could use some therapy I guess.

------

Pj: it may have been a stupid decision, but it was MY stupid decision and I could never turn my back on it

------

Hazel: please, stay out of trouble

Pj: Not my strong suit

-------

Pj *about Hazel*: *sighs* God, what a loser. I can't believe I'm gonna sleep with her.

Josie: I mean, you don't have to.

Pj: Nah, I'm gonna.

-------

Pj: Do you have a date for Valentine’s Day?

Hazel: Yes. It's February 14th.

Pj: I- Nevermind.

-------

*Texting*

Pj: I wanna sleep with you.

Pj: But like in the innocent way.

Pj: ...

Pj: Get your bitch ass over here and cuddle with me you little shit!

Hazel: Damn Pj, calm down, I'm putting my shoes on.

Pj: <3

------

Hazel: Sometimes sarcasm is laid on so thick that even I can detect it.

Hazel: This was not one of those times.

--------

Pj: I love you.

Hazel: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.

*pj and Hazel make out passionately*

Sylvie, to annie: You owe me 20 dollars.

-------

Hazel *after Pj insults someone*: I know Pj is very sorry and didn’t mean it.

Pj: Very sorry.

Hazel: See?

Pj: But I did mean it.

Hazel: pj!

---------

Brittney: Why are you ignoring Hazel?

Pj: I’m playing hard to get.

Brittney: Why would you do that? You’re already hard to want.

-------

Pj: Not much could ruin today.

Jeff: Hey overall bitch #2

Pj: Oh, Fuck. I forgot saying that summons him.

-------

*just before josie and pj find the other fight club members at the game to apologise*

Josie: Talk to Hazel first, and apologise. That's what friends do.

Pj: Urgh, I really don’t want too. I was just gonna wait til' I'm on my deathbed, get in the last word and then die immediately.

Josie: That was your plan for dealing with this???

Pj: That's my plan for dealing with everything. I have seventy-seven arguments I'm gonna win that way.

Josie *drags her to the football game*: Nope, we're doing the apology instead.

-------

Pj: Quick, Hazel, start talking about boring nerd shit!

Hazel: You know, nerd culture is mainstream now, so when you use the word “nerd” derogatorily, it means you’re the one that’s out of the zeitgeist.

Pj: Yes, that’s perfect. Just like that.

--------

*backstory: the cheerleaders are at practice and the rest of the club are getting together to help plan a perfect promposal for josie to give to isabel*

Pj: From now on, we'll be using code names. You can address me as 'Eagle 1.'

Pj: Hazel is 'Currently doing that.'

Hazel: *high fives pj*

Pj: Sylvie is 'It happened once in a dream.'

Pj: Annie. Codename - 'If I had to pick a republican.'

Pj: josie is... 'Eagle 2.'

Josie: Oh, thank god.

--------

[bluciusmacaw]

Will Wood’s Slouching Toward Bethlehem/Branson Tour - Tucson, Arizona, Rialto Theatre

sorry i have a lot i need to say about this, it was great! It was great! First of all, it was great!

THE EXPERIENCE

Such a whirlwind!!! I wish I had a perfect memory it feels like such a waste to not be able to recall everything perfectly in its entirety!!! I really hope this show gets like the recordings uploaded somewhere, (not Tucson specifically, the man was very sick, so probably not firing on all cylinders, (but he could’ve fooled me!!)) I really need to know that I can hold on to that night just a little bit longer because it was so beautiful genuinely but my mind is flawed and it lets things slip away far too quickly. And it’s not like I was just NOT paying attention I WAS. I WAS. It was just such a barrage of AMAZING stuff that I genuinely could not keep up, I wanted every moment to last forever, but time kept marching on (as it does) and by the end of the show it felt like there was a little world that existed in that theatre and nowhere else, and when it had ended and I was horribly sad to see it go, but at least I was wearing some pants. Seriously, I’m so glad I could be there that night, I think the best word to describe the experience would just be “WOW!”

Point and Laugh

He preformed …Well, Better than the Alternative during this show and i actually quite liked the part where he slipped up and sang, “everybody’s in on my goddamn business, this isn’t my first krissss it’s………… fuck. BABY COULD YOU PLAY-“ i quite liked that part like yeah. sure maybe he messed up the lyrics but he handled it like a champ and also (i just learned this) his gf’s name is Christina (Kristina?) so perhaps he was just thinking about her u ever consider that huh? oh what u hate love??? u hate ppl who r in love??? give me a fucking break…..

How i shat the bed (unimportant)

I showed up at 5:00 p.m. because I was a little VIP, and I was freaking the FREAK OUT. I was freaking out man I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared to watch someone ELSE preform before but I was like a MESS. Will Wood was very sick (physically this time) (hahahah mental illness is funny!) so I couldn’t ask him to sign what I wanted him to sign but i got a FREE tote and The New Normal CD SIGNED so whatevah whatevah!!! But, listen, I went up to Will Wood, I was right there, in the perfect position to say all the things i had rehearsed in the time leading up to the show. and i fucking i forgot to say literally anything. i dont think i even said “hi,” i had two months to prepare just ONE statement for him and i totally shat the bed BUT HE WAS EXTREMELY KIND DESPITE THIS!! HE LIKE STILL SAID “THANK YOU” IN A MANNER THAT I WOULD CONSIDER TO BE EXTREMELY GENUINE!!! AND FUCKING. I ASKED HIM ABOUT REVELATOR (cringe?) AND I FORGOT TO TELL HIM TO TELL CHRIS DUNNE THAT THE WRITING WAS GREAT BUT THATS FINE IM SURE CHRIS ALREADY KNOWS DUE TO THE EPISODE DISCUSSIONS OR THE FEEDBACK CHANNEL ON DISCORD. BUT HE WAS VERY NICE AND VERY FUNNY and in a natural way too, like, if he was forcing it then he is better at improv acting than i thought! (JOKE) no but seriously obviously a lot of stuff had gone wrong leading up to that show but at the end of the day, Will and everyone else involved did a fantastic fucking job and i really commend their ability to do such good work despite the disease. And I’m so glad I got to be in the crowd of such an awesome show!

[flieslikeamoron]

WIP Wednesday

I've posted a couple snippets of this before, but I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere with it. So this is the first two chapters of my Steddie Schitt's Creek AU. I'll start posting it on AO3 once I'm far enough into it, but if you want a preview...

This is about 5K words. Rated T so far for kissing and slightly impure thoughts. 

Steve Harrington is in hell. Granted, he's not wanted for tax crimes, insider trading, money laundering and whatever else his parents were getting up to. So it's not like he needs to flee arrest like they did. But is he really better off?

They put away a nice little offshore nest egg, fled the country for the Maldives as soon as they realized the heat was about to come down, and never said a word to him about what was coming. No heads up. No maybe you should come on vacation with us. No here’s an account we set up for you in the Caymans. Nothing.

And that's what Steve has left to his name. Nothing. Just a handful of clothes. And a ludicrously small amount cash. It's the kind of money he used to drop on lunch, or drinks at the club. Nothing. The cars are gone, and the New York apartment, and the house in the Hollywood Hills, and the beach house, and the other beach house, and the European beach house, the jet, so much of his wardrobe it makes him want to cry... The only thing left, the only thing that wasn't in his fugitive parents' name, the only thing he actually owns is a Family Video store in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Of all the pointless things. Why couldn't his parents have given him a sweet little boat or a cute little ski cabin or something the day he was born? Why did it have to be a useless video store?

He knows why. At the time they'd only owned about fifteen or twenty video stores. The start of a regional chain that grew into a national monster that grew into a media conglomerate. At the time it had been a way to welcome their new son into the family business. A new store. A new kid. Both born on the same day. It was symbolism, not a real gift. He's never seen the store. He doubts they have either. He completely forgot he even owned it until the lawyers sat him down and laid out the complete devastation of his life. 

He doesn’t know who’s been running it, but someone has because it’s still open. Somehow. The Family Video part of his parents’ empire went under years ago, thousands of stores shut down all over the country. Just this one lonely shop left shambling along like some kind of zombie. An obsolete relic of a bygone era. He might as well own a Model T factory.

But it’s all he’s got. So now. Instead of whatever resort his parents fucked off to, instead of a fun little yacht or a Swiss chalet, he’s heading for Hawkins, Indiana. On a bus. A Bus! Where he has been trapped for over twelve hours with the absolute dregs of humanity and the pervasive smell of literal shit wafting from the disgusting excuse for a toilet.

He emerges. finally, with four suitcases, the last precious remnants of everything he holds dear, into the absolute worst place in the world.

The bus station seems to be right on the edge of what the sign across the street proclaims “Historic Downtown Hawkins.” There’s a row of quaint brick store fronts. Faded awnings over old-fashioned window displays. There's a restaurant called Mabel's. There's a Laundr-o-matic. There's an honest to God "General Store" like something out of a black and white movie. Like Steve's time warped into the actual past. Do these people even have cell phones? Has he discovered a land cut off from modern society like some explorer uncovering a hidden tribe in the Amazon? That would explain why they still have a video store.

His head is pounding. Everything is so fucking quaint. Someone says hi to him, giving Steve a cheerful wave as he passes. A disturbingly casual friendliness that puts Steve on edge. He waves back anyway, pasting on a big, fake smile. This is a nightmare, but he’s been in bad spots before. He just needs to sell the store and get the hell out of here. 

But first things first, he needs a place to stay. 

He pulls out his phone. Does this place even have Uber?

--

The car pulls up surprisingly quickly. A big boat of an Oldsmobile that’s seen better days. Not exactly Uber Black, but beggars can’t be choosers.  Steve wheels his bags to the trunk. The driver doesn't seem like he's going to help, which is not going to do his star rating any favors. There's no porter so Steve pops the trunk himself. Only about two of the bags will fit. He puts the other two in the backseat, and climbs into the passengers seat.

The driver is a shaggy haired guy about Steve’s age. He just sit there. Staring at Steve, wide-eyed. "Hawkins Motel?" Steve says, annoyed. It's all in the app, isn't it? The guy opens his mouth, and closes it again. Is there something wrong with him? Does he not speak English? His haircut looks like he did it himself without a mirror. Steve mentally docks another star. "Anytime today," Steve snaps. He could maybe stand to be a bit more polite, but he smells of bus, and this has been the worst day of the worst week of his entire life.

The guy shrugs, still looking a bit surprised that driving an Uber means having another person in your car. "The motel you said?"

So he does speak English.

"That's right." 

At least it’s a short drive. The motel’s toward the outskirts of the town, not that it seems like they get a lot of tourist traffic around here. As his driver pulls up to the check in office, Steve hesitates. The place looks- It’s a long row of dilapidated rooms with blue painted doors. Haphazardly tilted air conditioning units in the windows. A couple windows with cardboard taped in where the glass should be. An overflowing dumpster. It looks like it has been, or will be, the scene of a murder.

“Are you okay?” 

“Be honest. Do you know of any murders that have happened here?”

The guy thinks about it for a second, rather than just rattling off a no. Which Steve appreciates. “Not that I know of,” he says. “But there’s a B&B back in town if this isn’t your speed.” He gives Steve a small smile. “Byers’ House. Really nice place.”

Steve can’t afford really nice. He mentally adds a star back to the guy’s rating for his honesty. “No, it’s- It’ll be fine. Could you just wait one second while I check in though? I need to get to Family Video after I drop off the bags.” 

“I’m kind of in the middle of-”

“Five minutes, I swear. And you’re going back that way anyway, right? I’ll pay cash.”

The guy gives him a long look. “You can’t just-” the guy says, losing steam halfway through. Steve smiles as the guy caves with a muttered, “Fine.” It’s the Harrington charm. Works every time. 

--

Family Video is on the other end of “Historic Downtown Hawkins” from the bus station. It seems to be getting into a less historic area, surrounded by a strip mall on one side. The video store has that classic brick look though. A mural on the side of the building with a mashup of movie characters from Elle Woods to Darth Vader. It could easily be removed, wouldn’t affect the sale price. There are large windows on either side of the door, the classic coming attractions posters surrounded by lights. But as Steve climbs the stairs he notices the posters are made by hand. Some of them look like well done art by someone who knows what they’re doing, some of them look like the scribblings of a five year old. 

How quaint.

He grimaces, pushing the door open. Cringing at the cheerful tinkle of a bell. "Welcome to Family Video." The girl at the counter looks up from her magazine, bored. "Can I help you find something?"

"The manager?" Steve says.

"That's me." She straightens up. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Steve." Steve tries out a smile as he makes his way over to the counter. He has a great one. But she seems unmoved, not smiling back. "Harrington." He points in the vague direction of the Family Video logo on the wall. "As in, the family in Family Video."

She cocks her head. "I think my family is the family in this Family Video. We've only been running the place for 28 years." She adds, "Buckley." She points to the nametag on her suspenders that says Robin. She's wearing suspenders. Somehow they kind of work for her.

"I'm sure my family appreciates all your family has done to keep the store up and running."

"Last one in the country."

Steve gives smiling one more go. She looks at him stone faced. So much for the famous Harrington charm. Steve supposes what he's about to say isn't going to give her a lot to smile about. "I guess this is awkward," Steve says. "But the fact is I own this building, and the franchise license."

"The hell you do." She crosses her arms over her chest, lifting her chin.

"I do though," Steve says. "I don't know what deal my parents worked out with your parents. Obviously, we've been- I've been- Hands off. So that's thirty years of profits you haven't had to share and rent you haven't had to pay. I won't be seeking to recoup that, by the way."

She snorts. "Go ahead and try. There aren't any profits to share. We barely keep the lights on."

"Maybe this is an opportunity then," he says. "To turn this-" He makes a motion, encompassing the worn counter she's standing behind, the overflowing shelves of Blu-rays and DVDs, the scuffed floors. The general aura of decline in this shrine to an outdated form of media. "Into something profitable."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"Well, the building has value. If the business doesn’t."

"The business has value," she argues. "It's just not in profits."

Steve cocks his head. "I don't follow."

"It has value to the town. We host movie nights in the town square all summer. We have groups that meet here to talk about film or books or writing." She motions at a couple squashy chairs in the corner with another mural on the wall. It’s the Gremlins doing a dance from Singing in the Rain. "We have an annual film festival. It’s happening next month. There are-"

"That's great," Steve interrupts. "But I need actual money. Not feel good small town vibes." He has to get out of this hellhole. And if that means selling this building out from under this stranger he doesn't give a shit about, he'll do it. That's business. That's how the world works. 

“And I need you to go be delusional somewhere else.” She frowns at him. “You don’t own this place.”

“Really?” he says. “Because I have a copy of the deed in my bag back at the hotel and another on file with my lawyer. How about you?”

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” She manages to sound confident despite the fact that Steve knows for a fact she doesn’t have the goods. 

“I’m happy to come back tomorrow with my extremely legal paperwork that will hold up in any court of law,” he says. “And you bring… Whatever you can dig up to help your case. If that doesn’t settle it, you can spend the profits you don’t have on a lawyer.” 

“Great,” she says, voice flat. “Is there anything else I can help you with.” The amount of rage coming off her would be intimidating if he wasn’t completely sure he owns this place. And if she wasn’t wearing suspenders. 

--

Steve heads to the diner down the street from the video store for dinner. He feels sort of shitty. Maybe he should have made his lawyer do this part, but he can’t really afford the retainer. So fuck it, fine. He’ll be the bad guy. It's not like it's his fault Robin’s parents put all their eggs in the basket of a store they didn't even own. What is Steve supposed to do about it? He needs the money. He owns the place. It's not on him to preserve some weird non-profit video store, just so kids can hang out there and talk about movies or whatever she was going on about.

"Anything I can get you?" a pretty blond asks. Steve grabs the menu, gives it a scan. The last few weeks have been one indignity after another. Steve didn’t really think he had any farther to sink, anything left to lose. But looking at that menu a lead weight sinks to the bottom of his gut, his throat suddenly going tight. He wants his salad with truffle vinagrette, he wants wagyu beef not meatloaf, he wants hiramasa not tilapia. He doesn’t want chicken fried anything ever. 

"How about you bring me your favorite thing on the menu." He tries his smile out on the waitress just to make sure it's not broken. It’s probably not his best effort, considering how desperately he wants to cry about toro tartare. But she smiles back, charmed. He takes a second to notice how well she fills out her apron. Chrissy, her name tag says.

"Anything?" she says. "You don't have any food allergies, or-"

"Surprise me, Chrissy." She blushes at the sound of her name in his mouth.

“It’s so weird that you’re like… Here.” She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Very cute. “I’ve never met anyone famous before.” 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Steve teases. “I’m more handsome than the pictures.” 

She laughs. “Are you here for a while?” He can’t tell if it’s a come on or just curiosity. 

“I have some business to wrap up,” Steve says. “But I’ll be here for a week or two.” Not more than that, surely. How long can it take to sell a stupid building?

"I'm really sorry about what happened. With your family and everything." She leans in, like she thinks he might be embarrassed for anyone to overhear her talking about something that was all over the news, all over twitter, all over tiktok, all over everything. The charges being made public. The feds turning Steve’s New York apartment inside out. Steve getting escorted out into a sea of flashing cameras. Every microsecond of his misfortune documented.

"Thanks," he says, clipped. The last thing he needs is pity from some girl who probably peaked by captaining her high school cheerleading squad, some waitress who's probably never left her home town. Steve's fucking broke, but he's still better than this town. Better than these people. He doesn't need her pity.

She senses the shift in his mood, the smile no longer directed at her. And straightens up. "Anything to drink?"

--

Steve fishes his phone out of his handbag when she's gone. He knows he shouldn't, but he checks his Instagram. He has friends all over the world. Had friends all over the world. And now look, he can watch them having fun without him in real time. Watch them not thinking about him. Not missing him. It's all right there in the palm of his hand.

There’s Kassandra sun bathing in Ibiza. And there’s Oliver clubbing in Toyko. And there’s Stavros. His boyfriend of a record breaking three months. Kissing some guy on the private plane he was supposed to be using to fly Steve out of here. And there’s Stavros kissing that same guy on his yacht with a breathtaking Mediterranean sunset behind them. Steve zooms in on a carpaccio with a jealousy so intense he feels sick to his stomach. Fuck Stavros, honestly. But he would kill for that carpaccio. 

"Here you go," Chrissy chirps. She puts down a plate. "It's not actually on the menu, but it's my favorite. It’s like avocado toast, but it’s hash browns instead of toast. The kitchen makes it for me special." She puts down a second smaller plate with a few huge onion rings. “Mabel’s famous for her onion rings. Or- It’s the sauce, really.”  She adds a milkshake. “You can use the shake for dipping too.”

Steve looks at the food. It’s all so… Fried. He looks at her face, the tentative smile there. He feels a flush of something uncomfortable. Feels sort of small, air knocked out of him by the way she bounced off his coldness and came back with a little piece of herself and a smile. Something hooks into his chest, and tugs. 

“Thank you.” It sounds- Pathetically sincere. “It looks delicious.” That’s a lie, but he’s fucking doing his best.

Her smile grows to a bright, wide thing. Her pretty face lit up. She tilts her head, taking a breath. "Listen. I know you probably have- It's probably not what you're used to," she says. "But if you want to meet some people, there's a party out by the lake tonight." She shrugs. "I know it's hard to be new in town." She smiles again. So cute. "At least you could get a couple beers out of it."

"Will you be there?"

She blushes and nods. Pretty. Tempting. A nice distraction. Maybe even something he could put on his Insta.

“I’ll see you there.”

--

The party is exactly what Chrissy said it would be. Big bonfire. A couple kegs. A bunch of locals getting drunk, getting loud, hooking up. Steve looks around for Chrissy, pushing his way through the crowd. He doesn’t see her, and being around these yokels is bad for his morale. He grabs a beer and does another pass through the crowd, looking for anyone who’d make a good picture. He doesn’t need to advertise that he’s at a shitty party, but making out with someone hot might give Stavros second thoughts about taking that generic twink to Mykonos when he could have had Steve. 

Steve looks past the rowdy center of the party to a guy standing a bit away from the fire. Long hair. Leather jacket. Shit-kicker boots. Steve can see a tantalizing bit of ink on his hand as he lights a cigarette. A bit more ink peeking out of the worn neckline of his tshirt. He looks like the kind of guy that'll sell you drugs or steal your wallet.

Perfect.

The camera is already open on Steve’s phone as he steps in close to the guy. Steve takes a fist full of his shirt in hand to keep him from stepping back as Steve plants one on him. The phone clicks and Steve' glances over at, about to take one more. 

The guy cups Steve's chin. Warm fingers insistent, turning Steve away from the phone. Turning the hurried, awkward mash of their lips together into something that catches. Steve opens up, unthinking, for the heat of his mouth. The hand tight on his waist urges him closer, into the brush of leather, the heat of a body up against his. There's a lazy confidence to the way the guy slips him a little tongue. Steve leans into it, into him.

And the guy pulls back.

It takes Steve a second to let go of the grip he has on the guy's shirt. To remember why he came over here. His phone. Right. He never did get that second pic. He licks his lower lip. His eyes still on the guy. On his mouth. When Steve looks up enough to catch the guy's eye, the cocky quirk of his eyebrow, he can feel his face going hot.

Jesus.

Why is this guy even getting to him? He flirted his way out a Saudi prince's compound. He made it through two countries without a passport. He got into KissKiss without a lock of human hair. He does not get flustered. Especially not by small town guys with hair like they've been in a bunker since the 80s, and rough fingers and that infuriatingly amused look on their face.

"Um," Steve says. The guy's smile gets wider. Fuck. 

“I have to-” Steve makes a vague motion, and starts walking in any random direction that’s away from how hard his heart is pounding, from how obvious it must be that he wants. From how easy it was to get under his skin. He tries not to picture that taunting grin being directed at his back while the guy watches him basically make a run for it. 

--

Steve hitches a ride back to the motel, dreading taking an actual look inside his room. The bags are where he carelessly tossed him. The floors are worn linoleum. The air conditioner rattles like a plane propeller. The tile in the bathroom is chipped and discolored. He lines up his bags neatly in the closet. No point in unpacking. He won’t be staying long. 

There are cigarette burns on the blanket, but the sheets seem clean at least. He slides gingerly into bed and pulls out his phone. He looks at the picture he took. It’s not great. A bit blurry. There’s the awkward stretch of his arm holding the camera. But if he cropped it- He zooms in on the guy’s face, trying to get a better look than he did at the party. It’s really only half his face. Steve can’t see that glint in his eyes, that curve of the grin that sticks so sharply in Steve’s craw. The soft focus blurry moment of his mouth against Steve’s still sends a thick pulse of arousal through Steve’s gut. The memory of the guy’s fingers against his chin, the demanding heat of his mouth.

He deletes the photo from his phone without posting it. It wasn’t Instaworthy.

CHAPTER TWO

Steve wakes up feeling worse than he did the time he accidentally roofied himself. A shower helps a little. The water temperature could charitably be called lukewarm. But Steve stands too long in the tepid spray, drawing in deep breaths, filling his lungs with the smell of his shampoo. One of a kind, made just for him. Because he’s the kind of person people want selling their brand. Because he’s the kind of person who has what other people want. He’s the kind of person other people want to be like. 

Or he was. 

No, he still is. No one will touch him right now, but that’s temporary. The next scandal will come along. People will forget about the bullshit, and remember that he’s Steve Harrington. 

He fortifies himself with a look in the mirror. He hasn’t changed. He’s still got a face made to sell collagen spray and a body made for thirst traps. He takes a little extra time with his hair. He takes a little extra time choosing his outfit, running his hands through the couture in his suitcases, the thick wool and crisp linen, bumpy tweed, featherlight jersey. He pulls out a couple favorites. The gray pleated skirt. Thom Browne, of course. He hesitates between the matching sports coat and the red LV bomber. He always feels like hot shit in the bomber, but he should probably go for the look that says I’ll see you in court. His fingers trail over the soft leather of the bomber as he puts it back in his suitcase. 

He snaps a couple pics when he’s done. There’s no way he’d post something with this hotel room as a background, but look at his hair. Perfect. His outfit. Impeccable. And there’s that Harrington smile. 

--

There only seems to be one Uber driver in this town, but at least the guy was- Well, no, he wasn’t friendly. But he did help Steve carry his bags to the motel room. He knows the town too. Maybe Steve can pump him for the dirt on Robin and the store.

It’s a van than pulls up to the motel parking lot though, not the Oldsmobile from yesterday. Steve peers in the window, just in case he’s about to get kidnapped.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath when a very familiar pair of brown eyes meet his. Long hair and tattoos. Leather jacket just like last night. Steve would almost rather walk. But he is dressed to threaten legal action. Probably best not to show up sweaty.

Steve opens the sliding door to the back. It’s full of an alarming amount of crap. Tools, and random metal parts of something. A car? Steve doesn’t know. Wood, a small plastic lawn chair, a lawnmower, an amp for some reason- 

The guy pats the passenger’s seat. “Up here, big boy.”

Steve climbs in as smoothly as he can. Just because he humiliated himself last night doesn’t mean he has to do it again.

“I’m Eddie,” the guys says. “And you’re… Steve?” He reads off the phone in his hand. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

Steve could maybe pretend he doesn’t remember. Do the whole “I’m sorry have we met?” It can be devastating if you drop it on the right person. But he’s pretty sure all he’ll get if he tries it on this guy, Eddie, is a knowing smirk. 

Fuck it. “Came on a little strong,” Steve says. “Sorry, I guess.”

Eddie pulls out of the parking lot. “No apology needed. You’re not that bad a kisser.”

Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing, but he can’t just not set the record straight. “I’m a good kisser.” Eddie shrugs, still with that teasing grin on his face. His eyes on his rearview. “I escaped from the Yakuza because of how good a kisser I am.”

Eddie shoots him a skeptical look. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I have literally been given a car because of how good a kisser I am. A really nice car.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, if you want to prove it we could try again. See if I’m inspired to buy you breakfast.”  He chucks Steve under the chin, condescending. Steve wants to eviscerate him. He also kind of wants to take him up on it, a surge of heat spearing through his gut. What is it about this fucking guy? He bats Eddie’s hand away. 

“Excuse you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we asking for permission before we grab each other now?” 

“That was a one time grabbing,” Steve says. “Temporary insanity. So how about we both agree to keep our hands to ourselves from here on out.”

“Your loss.” Eddie flashes his teeth. He’s such an asshole. It’s really unfortunate how bad Steve wants to touch his dick.

--

There’s a closed sign on the door of the video store, and no lights on. It’s well past nine. This is no way to run a business. Steve knocks on the door, but the lights stay off. 

He waits five minutes, ten, before giving up and heading down the street toward the diner. He’ll kill some time having breakfast, then try again. Chrissy’s at the counter in her perky little ponytail. He smiles when she gives him a blushy wiggle of her fingers, and takes a seat at the counter.

“Did you have a good time at the party?” she asks.

“Would have been better if you were there.” She giggles, handing him a menu. “I looked for you.”

“I had to close up.” She bites her lip, scrunches her nose. “I got there late.” She leans in across the counter and lowers her voice like she’s telling secrets. “I looked for you too.” 

Steve wouldn’t mind the distraction. A no strings fling with someone like her. Someone who’d be sweet on his tongue. Soft in his arms. Not like Eddie. Eddie’s too- 

Eddie pops up from behind the counter with a screwdriver in his mouth. Fucking hell. Is the guy a living jumpscare? Why is he everywhere Steve goes?

He has his hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and his jacket off. Tight Metallica tee that shows off the tattoos on his arms. Full sleeves of stark black ink that Steve doesn’t have time to pick apart before he’s making himself look down at the menu. He’s thinking about breakfast and not about rough fingers on his skin, a warm mouth wrapped around his- Nope. He’s not thinking about that.  

“Flirt on your own time, Chris.” Steve looks up at the warmth in Eddie’s tone. It’s teasing, but without the edge he takes when he’s poking at Steve.

Chrissy rolls her eyes at him and smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up, jerk. I’m not paying you to hassle me.”

“Where’s that replacement motor?” Eddie asks. She looks around, and snatches it up off the counter. He takes it, and holds on, her hand caught in his as he raises an eyebrow and says, “Be good.” They both look at Steve. He hopes they don’t think they’re being subtle. 

Steve watches as they look back at each other, a whole conversation in the way Chrissy wrinkles her nose and Eddie gives his head a shake. They’re definitely fucking. So much for that distraction.

--

The store’s still closed when Steve gets back from the diner. This has to be deliberate. Is Robin avoiding him? Hoping he’ll go away? Joke’s on her. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go.

A bunch of kids are sitting on the steps of the store, arguing with each other about Minecraft or whatever kids like. 

“Anyone know why they aren’t open?” Steve asks.

One of the kids, curly haired with a trucker hat shrugs. “We were wondering the same thing.” 

“Maybe she’s sick,” a red headed girl offers. 

“She seemed fine yesterday,” Steve says.

“Usually you’re not sick right up until you are, so-” The red head looks at Steve with a level of withering disdain only middle schoolers are capable of. 

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve says. “Don’t you have netflix?”

“Of course we have netflix,” a lanky, dark haired scarecrow of a boy says. He runs a close second on the withering disdain meter to Red Head.

A chorus of voices overlap each other.

“Robin has lots of stuff that’s not on netflix.”

“And she lets us play DND at the store.

“We’re making a movie.”

“What kind of movie?” Steve instantly regrets asking. 

Five voices start clamoring. Steve gets about three words of it. One of the words is “Demogorgon,” which he’s pretty sure is not actually a word. A smaller boy with stick straight brown hair in a truly unfortunate bowl cut holds up several weird drawings that don’t help make anything clearer. 

“Did you do the window?” Steve asks the kid, ignoring the rest of the useless non-information being yelled at him. He points at the poster for Ghostbusters. It’s one of the better ones.

“Yeah,” the kid says. “I’m Will.” He points at a signature in the corner of the poster. Steve’s having a hard time not looking at his haircut. He’s pretty sure it would qualify as child abuse. 

Trucker Hat grabs the stack of pictures from Will’s hand and starts laying them out on the sidewalk. The other kids start yelling again, rearranging the order and calling each other stupid, uninspired, derivative…

��We still don’t even have a hero!”

“And who’s going to play Daisy?”

“Plus the third act and-”

“But the costume has to-”

“Guys,” a good looking, dark-skinned boy says, swinging a bat in front of him. “Come on. I can play the hero.”

“You’re not a hero, Lucas. You’re a shrimp,” Trucker Hat says.

“We already decided none of us would be the hero,” Scarecrow says. 

“What about him?” Red Head asks. 

Steve looks up from the pictures he’d been trying to puzzle through. It’s like a very confusing comic book with no words. “What?”

“Are you like, athletic?” Will says.

“He is pretty tall,” Scarecrow admits reluctantly.

“He’s obviously not busy.”

“Can you swing a bat?” Lucas asks.

Steve isn’t sure he likes where this is going, but- “Can I swing a bat.” Steve snorts. “I played polo against Prince William. And I won.”

“They don’t use a bat in polo,” Trucker Hat points out.

“Gimme the fucking-” Steve snatches the bat out of Lucas’ hand. He puts his handbag down and spins the bat around his wrist once to get a feel for it. Then swings at the closest thing to him. Which happens to be a mailbox. With a gnome sitting on top of it. 

The gnome goes flying, and keeps flying. 

“Holy shit,” Lucas says. The kids watch wide-eyed as the thing sails all the way down the block and across the street. Knocking through a window with the loud smash of glass shattering. 

Oops. 

But still. “I told you,” Steve says, flipping the bat up and catching it one handed.

“Jesus Christ.” Trucker Hat sounds a little bit impressed, and a little bit freaked out.

“That’s the police station,” Will says, sounding more freaked out than impressed.

A few cops burst of the building.

“Run for it,” Red Head says, taking off on her skateboard with a gaggle of bicycles in hot pursuit.

By the time the cops make it down the street Steve’s the only one there. Bat in hand.

“Fucking kids.”

[bellamer]

Literally woke up from a dream where I was at Disney World (somewhere I’ve never been) but it was in an alternate timeline where Disney literally owned everything from anime to horror movies and the parks became super fucking bloated with so many things and I was there with some random fat black lady celebrity who I think was supposed to be Lizzo but I don’t know because I won a sweepstakes where I spent the week at Disney with off-Lizzo and there were so many different rides and roller coasters that it gave me a headache to even go on and they even owned their own version of Hot Topic inside and they had recently gotten the rights to Terrifier and would have a guy dressed as Art the Clown chase people into the Hot Topic and they couldn’t leave until you bought something

So me and off-Lizzo are walking around HorrorWorld as Disney called it and we’re seeing guys dressed as Edward Scissorhands doing puppet shows with his scissors and a bunch of horror stuff where it was essentially just Spirit Halloween so we got bored and decided to go to AnimeWorld

AnimeWorld had this fucking giant ass screen as soon as you walk in displaying a ship amv of two male characters in a ripoff of Disney’s version of Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure where they urge you to go watch the tragic romance of not-Jotaro and not-Kakyoin while a Japanese cover of Savior by Rise Against played because some reason they couldn’t get the rights for Jojo and we looked at some Avatar the Last Airbender costumes that were like 500 bucks but made out of cheap polyester

So me and Off-Lizzo went to the Bungou Stray Dogs cafe because they got the rights to Bungou Stray Dogs and we went to the cafe to get some fried apple pies and we got bullied into going on the Atsushi Tiger-Coaster even though I hate roller coasters but they needed some content to film because I guess our outing was going to be shown on Disney Channel in a 7 part series and we had to actually ride rides

Off-Lizzo offered to go on the roller coaster by herself since I told her I hate roller coasters but somehow I was still forced onto it and did not feel good after the ordeal but Off-Lizzo ran off with me and we went to go on a food crawl instead away from the cameras and decided we’d go to Epcot but we couldn’t find Epcot because it didn’t exist anymore and was replaced by DCLand because Disney owned the rights to DC and declared Epcot obsolete so we got some coffee from this confusing automated coffee machine and instead went to DCLand

And then Off-Lizzo was kidnapped by an exact genetic artificially made thing of Superman and we learned that Disney wasn’t hiring people to dress up as people anymore, they just made their characters literally come to life which made it unnerving about HorrorLand and us getting chased by Art the Clown but Superman was trying to get us out of there but forgot me because Disney wasn’t going to stop, they were going to keep buying and adding things to the park and we’d be forced to stay there and ride their rides and eat their food and never go home because people actually liked our show and disney wanted to keep it going as long as it was making them money

And then Superman returned off-Lizzo to me and told us both to play along and ride the rides and do whatever we could to keep the cameras and staff and security busy because they’d cater to our every whim but warned us not to sign anything because Disney wanted us to sign over our rights to them so they’d own us, while he rallied some other characters and we’d break out of there and start a rebellion

Then I woke up. I hope I’m not clairvoyant or anything because that sounds horrifying.

[iantimony]

this tuesdaypost was drafted on monday, please clap

we are cookin with Gas this week

listening: listened to antimai a few times through, favorite track i think is 'ring 5: middle class'. dorian electra - man to man: really fun video too charasho (benny friedman): was linked in jew chat. very charming and funky. 5 Old French Dances: No. 5. Le Basque (arr. for 2 recorders and harpsichord): i heard this a billion year ago on the radio (my wakeup radio station on my alarm clock is classical) and i finally got around to saving a link for it. very bouncy very cute. makes me think of rabbits running in circles a la beatrix potter.

EDIT TO ADD: i also finally listened to beyonce 'cowboy carter'!! i know im late! it's good i like it! not a revolutionary opinion! obsessed with her jolene cover! that's all!

reading: big one this week! i FINISHED 'the left hand of darkness'! i really liked it! still marinating on the themes etc. i started 'the dispossessed', also by le guin, and am devouring that as well. there's some stuff in there that oof ough. existential. but i'm liking it so far, i'm around chapter 5 right now. physicists!

fanfic: imposter syndrome (mikkeneko): i might have already linked it but i can't be assed to go back through a few weeks of tuesdaypost to see if i already have. so if i did, here it is again. really charming premise, gut-punch of an ending, cool twist on the doppelganger setup from dungeon meshi with svsss.

the articles, some of which were actually read a while ago but i forgot to link and am now cleaning out my phone tabs: how will the golden age of 'making it worse' end? (david roth) new canada policy lets indigenous people reclaim their names (emma bowman) what happens to the stay-at-home girlfriend after a breakup? (erika w smith) unschooling is the parenting trend that's pissing everyone off (ej dickson) in defense of 'coffee badging' (monica torres): if i had a job that was all zoom calls i would literally go insane over being made to go into an office to take zoom calls. fuck that what my mother's wardrobe taught me about style and grief after she died: thinking a lot about all my dad's shit will semen destroy your shower drain? granny davis' geocaching page: found when i was looking at some reviews for caches near my apartment. im kind of obsessed with her. she also has a facebook page called 'granny's geo page' if you don't have a geocaching account. literally she is everything to me. she has found So Many fucking geocaches good god. wedding trivia questions: used as reference to create some wedding trivia for a bridal shower! similarly, the wikipedia page for morganatic marriages my fight with a sidewalk robot (emily ackerman): my school has these. hate them. my boyfriend just linked this to me and im obsessed, laser etched paperweights, i am not a huge paperweight girlie but wowwww prettyyyyy. the electron orbitals!!!! i had a search open for "anti mega #1 cray street". i have no idea what this is.

special edition: the link dump from my trip to the uk last month! some very related to the trip itself, a few random extras! top of the poops, an architectural firm bc i saw a sign with their logo and thought it was cool but now i can't find their logo, waring ader space invaders because i saw someone's shirt with the little space invader guys and was like ooh the tate museum joel meyerowitz (and another page about him) wikipedia on gratin dauphinois, wikipedia page on doncaster for some reason i did not go there list of artworks at the national portrait gallery of scotland wikipedia page on the jacobite uprising of 1745 washi tape that would match the edinburgh one i bought there, tintin in the land of the soviets postcard that i didnt end up getting wikipedia for a quaich which is a traditional scottish bowl, a wiki page on the geology of arthur's seat, a book in the scottish national galleries that i thought about purchasing but didn't want to try and fit in my luggage (she is definitely one of my new favorite artists though) wikipedia page on lauryn hill for some reason not sure how i got there, wikipedia page on salome halpir this post was on tumblr and i tried to find the item in the victoria and albert museum but it was sadly not on display, one of the audio guides i listened to a bit of in the v & a, a scarf i almost bought in the v & a a google search for the fabric library at harrods because my mom mentioned that it existed but i could not find it search for blinq (apparently spelled that way) blossoms because of a cocktail my brother's friend ordered that had one as a garnish wikipedia page on the mechanical explanations of gravitation

watching: from wool to cloth using a historical weaving technique (jillian eve): oughhh colors

emma in the moment/made in the moment: a deep dive into the chunky boy crochet lore the crochet stardew valley pillow drama untangling the shocking tale of mystical creations yarn i tried red heart's new all in one granny square yarn

some crochet tips videos from play hooky with me

tiffanyferg: 'personal style' discourse hgtv is a gentrification masterclass cleantok villains and the morality of messiness

playing: a teeny bit of wizard101

making: fallow. well i guess i drew on some cards for my friend's bridal shower. but generally fallow.

eating: made deb smittenkitchen's delicious carrot cake recipe. mine was a little ugly but really really delicious. i bought a bag of preshredded carrots and just sort of roughly chopped em up a little smaller because i couldn't be assed to grate them. i also couldn't be assed to trim the cakes, i did two smaller round pans and stacked them up but because i didn't trim them they were a little wibbly. oh well.

i'm going to bake another cake for my brother's birthday next weekend and i'm between her chocolate olive oil cake (looks really easy) and bittersweet chocolate and pear cake (a little more involved but highly recommended by bee)

misc: my mom wanted to take a sailing class but didn't want to do it alone so she offered to pay for me to come. sure, said i! i have never sailed! i like learning new skills! reader, it is So Fucking Hot Outside. the wind died and we had to get towed back to shore. the sun was so strong. there are so many ropes with all different names and they all Do Something. sunday's class got cancelled/rescheduled because the weather was That Bad (hot as fuck and no wind) so we're doing it probably friday instead (and saturday. and sunday. it's two weekends in a row of both days at 9am yayyyyy) but i just hope the weather is. better.

[dragonbard-bastard]

Started writing down what I did today to make lil summary posts cuz I've seen people do that before and like the idea of sharing more about my runs :)

Act 1 Spoilers!

The first thing I did was talk to Omeluum and Blurg, and I js wanna say I love them :) they're so husbands. We also went to the Arcane Tower and unlocked it and such, very nice, got the timmask spores and tongue of madness, forgot to go back to Blurg and Omeluum. Oops. Discovered that the tower has a BASEMENT!?

Spent a lot of time talking to corpses for fun. Canonically Soph would never- he'd rarely ever touch necrotic magic of any kind of ever. It would also freak him tf out.

We got Astarion's Sussur dagger!!! It's probably one of my favorite weapons in the early game, fuck them spellcasters fr. ALSO since I'm playing Tactician and long rests cost 80 camp supplies rather than fourth I've been very greedy with it so when we went into the Underdark Astarion was like "Hey .. Can I ermm tell you something. I'm. I'm a vampire." and Soph just said "Duh" and moved on 😭😭😭

Also for the not long resting reason Wyll only recently got his horns. Told Mizora to fuck off, and of COURSE called Wyll a handsome devil. Am growing increasingly aggravated as time goes on, however, about a lack of Wyll content. He literally won't even say well met anymore he has ONE LINE. no variety, just "You have something to ask?"

Dug up a dog's grave. I'm so sorry Myrna. Apologized by putting some flowers and a candle on it, it was all I had unfortunately.

I actually long rested twice in an row, one without using any camp supplies ofc, because I wanted the invisible Durge cape and it's actually shockingly good on Soph. I should probably give it to Astarion but I don't want to :(

Went to the mountain pass because I didn't want to go to grymforge, stole everything from the bitch who wanted the githyanki egg then murdered her because I hate her and what the fuck

fought the gremishkas (Astarion one shot a surprising AMT of them, it was awesome) and the Kobold. I tried to blow up as little of the wine as I could because more camp supplies, and found out you can apparently pocket the fire wine barrels with kobold still on them. This will be incredibly funny when I use the barrels as bombs later. DAMN I FORGOT TO TAKE A SS OF MY BARREL BOMB COLLECTION. Here's one from yesterday, though it's grown.

went to creche y'llek . went to the zaithisk, let Lae'zel use it, did this on the first persuasion check, did not use an inspiration.

Absolutely brutalized the bitches outside of the infirmary, I put an oil barrel underneath one of the light fixtures then shot it down at the start of the fight 😭😭😭

went to fight kith'rak therezynn, remembered why I ate the mountain pass. had to reload like three times until I was like fuck this Wyll go home Gale use arcane lock on this stupid door and then it was going decently well Lae'zel knocked the soul breaker out of her hands and later got her own weapon knocked out of her hands, perfect time to switch to the soul breaker I'd say. near the end of the fight a random fucking raider spawned right next to therezynn. just poof. right into existence. I was floored and slightly annoyed but therezynn hit him w a burning hands and took off half his health anyways???

Soph told the Inquisitor he can't have the weapon, the Inquisitor did not like this. Lae'zel stole his sword too and nearly killed him in four hits. He did become a pain in the ass w the mind steal link tho because oml he stole his own teammates minds or whatever. didn't know he'd do that. Wyll went down to this ranged attacker multiple times and I tried to use heat metal on him but he WASNT METAL. BULLSHIT. LOOK AT ALL THAT M E T A L.

Anyways, Soph got pissed about them hurting Wyll, went crazy went stupid, murdered the absolutely 100% has metal on him guy and one of the last spellcasters. told vlaakith to fuck off, visited the dream visitor, said get up boy I ain't killing you, signed off, and will now go eep.

Ty for reading :3

[retrieve-the-kraken]

Heartstopper season 2 play-by-play analysis

Question: what is the absolute worst? Is it:

a) dating,

b) coming out,

c) parties, or

d) all of the above…

The answer (for me) is d. And this episode has all of the above, and it was like watching a nightmare… (I went on a few dates, all of them painful, but I don’t know if that’s just the nature of dating or if it’s because I’m acespec; also parties to me make absolutely no sense; also I tried coming out multiple times and it’s been the worst anxiety I’ve experienced, each time).

But let’s see how these things go for our lovely group.

EPISODE 3 - PROMISE

- I love that they did the “I know you and Charlie are really good mates” and Otis and Sai giving him the looks, and a kissing montage playing in Nick’s head with the huge letters GOOD MATES across it. Perfection.

- Coach Singh’s whole body language after walking in on Nick and Charlie kissing. And her being protective of Nick after realizing that he’s queer. “You don’t owe them that information”. It’s so reassuring for Nick to have another queer person, a queer adult, know, and for her to tell her that he doesn’t have to live with that pressure, that it’s difficult and it won’t always go well, but it’s not an obligation.

- Nick and Charlie being cozy in the library. Two of my favorite things. More of that please.

- I can’t tell you the giddiness I felt when I saw the Pride display and saw that there was an ACE book top and center. Also I’m so happy that we got so much James, and how fucking giddy he is about hanging out with Isaac. Two little bookworms matching each other’s energies.

- I love how Tao became the worst date by trying to be the best date, following the worst online advice, changing his appearance, and being so tense about everything being perfect, that he forgot about just being himself, which is precisely what Elle likes about him.

- All Charlie and Nick needed to get through their exams and coursework was to think about Paris, and being together in Paris.

- Every time Harry appears, he usually puts an arm around someone, like grabbing them, which, as Tao rightfully pointed out last season, is a hyper-masculine way of saying “I didn’t get hugged much as a child”. So imposing and annoying. Go to therapy, Harry. Stop invading people’s spaces, Harry. (I know the other boys do it too, like Otis did to Charlie in the first episode, and to Nick in this one, but the attitude behind it is completely different. But still, boys, stop just grabbing people like that, it’s so annoying.)

- “But I love you because of how annoying you are” is one of the sweetest things you will ever hear, and I felt so bad for Tara because of how Darcy reacted, literally running away from her feelings. Poor Darcy too. I think I can relate to the automatic reaction of running away from my feelings, running away from anything that was me having to be vulnerable. It gets better, and I love that in the end it’s just practice. The more you talk about your feelings, the better you become at it.

- New favorite ship unlocked: the teachers! “Are you also regretting signing up for this?” Don’t worry, you won’t regret it at all by the end of it…

- James being all giddy asking Isaac to the party, I’m sorry but he’s adorable, and therefore I’m kinda sad about how things turn out, but I hope we get more James in the future.

- The comedic performance of Mr. Ajayi failing to get everyone’s attention in a gentle manner and Mr. Farouk having to go “QUIET!” Which in itself is so funny. (Fun fact: a teacher in Northern Ireland actually won the Guinness Book of World Records for the loudest shout, and it was her shouting “quiet” at 121 decibels, about the same as a jet engine. Mr Farouk might not be as loud, but the way he does it definitely works.)

- Darcy’s “oh dear, oh nooo” and Charlie and Nick exchanging excited looks when they’re told that boys and girls can’t share rooms is so cute. “I know, heartbreaking, isn’t it?” Mr Farouk says with a raised eyebrow.

- Poor Imogen… she needs more girlfriends.

- Tao’s new aesthetic, as much as they made him try to look out of character, just… works… love the whole outfit, the whole vibe. He looks like he’d be in a Wes Anderson film, so it’s very appropriate that they’re going to one.

- And Darcy going “oh duuuuh”, just the worst‼ And Charlie shouting “your hair’s amazing!”

- I love the stark contrast between Tara’s outfit and Tori’s outfit, and I love them both.

- “Look after him or you die”. Aw Tori, being a good older sister. I want more Nick and Tori interactions.

- The comically large popcorns. “I hope you didn’t cut it for me”. Tao’s little laugh but then his look of terrible realization. Then his terrible attempts at being flirty. And then his whole rant about “they’re kids, so it’s obviously not going to last long term”, big foreshadowing.

- Sahar’s makeup and jacket, so cute. Metallic blue eyeshadow. The makeup game in this season is top notch.

- What is up with those boys pulling Charlie away? Seriously, what is this masculine impulse of throwing your arm around someone's shoulder, even when you don't know them???

- And what is up with Sai’s reaction to Nick saying “I need to talk to you guys”? This is a lot like the party in the first season, when Nick realizes that he’s not really the partying type, and he just wants to hang out with Charlie and talk. Here he just wants to talk to his friends and tell them something, but it is like the worst moment to do it, and he’s already feeling ill about the idea of doing it, and he’s really not the big loud party type of guy.

- Tao being so pent up about this one date going wrong. They’re both kids, like the protagonists in Moonrise Kingdom, and they really thought that it would work out from the beginning, and they’re upset that it didn’t, and that it must mean that it will never work.

- “I’m fundamentally unlikeable”. “I liked the old Tao”.

- Tori is so mean in that instant, but we get that it hinges on her fear of Charlie being hurt again, being bullied again.

- After a second viewing, the only overblown comment going around Nick’s head is Tori going “you’re bisexual, so you’re going to cheat on my brother?” (I know that the media tends to have a terrible habit of portraying bisexual characters as promiscuous, which is why Nick is such a lovely change, so I would get why this is insinuated here. But… not from Tori, and so far in the show, at least from my perspective, there hasn’t been anyone insinuating that Nick’s bisexuality makes him unreliable or promiscuous, but especially not Tori. Unless this has to do with a deleted scene... In any case, I expected him to think of her as accusing him of letting Charlie get hurt or something). But all the other things he hears in his head are spot on.

- Charlie coming in hot and shoving Harry away, because he probably still feels bad about not helping Nick when he was confronted with his brother.

- That one-on-one scene between Joe and Olivia is peak perfect Charlie-Sara interaction. More please.

- Also, is it me, or does Sara wear a lot of yellow? She's sunshine personified. (it's curious that, one of the few times we don't see Sara in yellow, is in season 1 when she's wearing blue when Nick is telling her about the date with Imogen, and she says "don't worry, the right girl will come along", and it might just confirm my theory that light blue represents heteronormativity, but coming from a person who turns out to be supportive).

- Nick and Charlie being all cozy, and Nick tiredly saying that he enjoyed Charlie telling Harry to piss off. And Charlie’s whole talk about that weird obligation we feel to come out to friends and family the moment you realize you’re not straight. I think it’s so lovely that the comic and the show emphasize this so much, because so often in media it’s become a whole thing about how you’re supposed to come out, and for it to be this big announcement, as if otherwise you're lying to everyone if you don't, and as if everything is going to be alright from now on as soon as you come out, and as if not coming out means that you’re afraid and a coward. And I love how much this season works through that, with Coach Singh and Charlie and Sara telling Nick that he doesn’t owe it to anyone. This whole season was perfect because of that.

This episode is brought to you by Date Dread™, Coming Out Anxiety™ and Party Fear™ (not just a Raleigh Ritchie song with which I identify way too much...)

[weatherman667]

Most of the Problems With Mass Effect Come Down to It LITERALLY Losing the Plot

The first Mass Effect game was a lovecraftian horror set in what seemed like an extremely hard science fiction setting.  They did a fantastic job of combining the two elements.  They did a better job of each element than most dedicated Science Fiction and lovecraftian horror stories.

But the problem with lovecraftian story is the unknown and the moral beyond the means of understanding.  And when bought out by EA, they had to eliminate anything that might make audience to think.  ME2 coasted on the coat tails of ME1, and ME3′s main story was horrifyingly bad.  This is because they decided to FIGHT the Reapers.

Because it makes a lot of sense to fight the god-machines that live in cycles of wake and sleep that last 50,000 years.  ME1′s plot involves you keeping them asleep.  ME2 involves you discovering that their harvest are about reproduction, which is beautiful.  Until you fight the Human Reaper.  On foot.  And it looks like a Human.

They slat-out forgot about the “each a nation” quote, even though Legion brought it up two missions ago.  The fight literally had a weak point labelled “Weak Point.”

But the start of ME2 was the biggest warning sign.  Because they kill you and have you resurrected by space nazis.  From a narrative point of view this makes sense, from the point of view of the audience it’s fucking idiotic.  What they wanted to do was excuse the ability to rewrite your character and give you a bigger ship.

How about we try this?

Normandy gets destroyed.

Council and Alliance refuse to help you.

TIM shows up offering his aid.

This would do everything - single - thing it wanted to accomplish without pissing off the viewer.

Except Cybernetics.  Which they could have Miranda and Chakwas add to you, and it only works on you because it’s Prothean!  It would then give you a way to make you super Human without trying to hide in the code and bad enemy AI.

Later in the game you get offered the chance to use cybernetics copied from dead collectors.  I mean, they could have added XCOM here.  Research weapons.

But, that said, ME2′s combat engine was a preview of ME3′s.  After ME1′s game engine, no one was complaining.

[thiamfresh]

Just finished re-reading airplanes for the first time in two years and I'm sobbing. But. was just curious as to when you knew how the story was gonna end? and if you had any major plot ideas/alternate endings you never got to :)

Hey :) ahh the fact people are still reading/rereading airplanes makes me so happy 😭

So like I've said before airplanes was meant to be a short and sweet fic where they go to the grand canyon, fall in love and then come back home. 4 or 5 chapters at the max. (Qnd you can tell that in the writing because theo and Liam jump through more friendship hurdles in the first like 4 chapters where I was trying to fast track their bonding experience than they do for like 20 chapters when I realised it was a long fic) so honestly for most of the fic I had absolutely no idea how the story was going to end.

Especially with the "should I stay or should I go" theo idaho plot bevause although I wanted him to stay in beacon hills theo being stuck in beacon hills would be awful and so there were like 30 thousand different kinda endings surrounding that whole plot.

Including the "theo takes Liam back before Disney World (after the guys convo with mason) and they pine for literal years before meeting again on pack buisness and go on another road trip where they actually end up at Disney land this time"

And the meanest (but funniest) ending I wrote about halfway through the fic where Theo and Liam get attacked (and killed) by hunters on their way back into Beacon Hills and Liams like, looking at all their little trinkets they've accumulated over the trip as he tries to crawl away before being murdered (it was that they gave me the idea for Disney world properly because I wrote in their like Disney hags smeared with blood and shit). I don't know if I still gave any of it and I was never really gonna use it. But I definitely enjoyed messing about with that ending, and theos "it's OK pumpkin" before getting murdered 🥰

But yeah anyway uhh I forgot the question one sec gonna go reread

OK! I'm back! So yeah I never really knew how the story would end as I was writing. I knew that it was getting close to the end but I kept on thinking like "OK it'll end right after the hermit pack" "it'll end when they finish disney" and then it never felt like the right time to end it.

I think the swanky date in new York was definitely the moment I realised that it was officially ending and everything from there on out would be moving towards the last chapter rather than sprining new plots up.

But still had no clue How it was going to end.

And I know I'm meant to plot my endings before but I always figured "they go back to beacon hills" was enough of an ending. Like I thought when I started that a little line about them spotting the beacon hills sign (and then getting their car flipped by hunters and killed in my darkest timeline version) and holding hands over the center console would be enough.

And then I started writing the end post new York swank and there was so much ending to have to do. Everything kept extending again as they did like a fucking goodbye tour and theos "I'm staying" once again because "Liam told me to leave" and I was pulling my hair out trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

I...I honestly ydont think I knew how it was gonna end right up until I was writing the last chapter/last scene.

Like I hadn't even thought about Theo getting his own place but then he was staying and it seemed ridiculous for him to stay with Liam because the two are cosependant as fuck after their road trip and this fic ended up being about theo finding himself and a life and having him stay in beacon hills for Liam and then like squat in his house because his parents are kind just felt all kinds of fucked up, like theo needed the option to be theo and not just liams theo.

So yeah, halfway through writing theos coming back he's getting a key from Derek and I figure they'll say goodbye at the door after seeing liams parents and it'll be over.

But then that felt like not enough so I wrote about liams little prison break from his house as he cycles on his shit bike to find his boyfriend. But yeah I think.. the moment I realised how I was going to end it was after writing the last chapter and Liam putting out the few trinkets theos accumulated over the trip and the two sitting in this empty ass apartment looking it over and "welcome home" qnd I was just like "Oh so I've finished it then???" Without knowing how I was gonna do it?

Like I knew it was ending that chapter. But I genuinely don't think I reallllly knew how it was gonna end until I'd written the last line and suddenly realised "oh shit I don't have anything else to add"

But saying that there is so much more to add and airplanes 2.0 is still one day gonna be a thing and it will be looking into Liam and Theos relationship and their uhhh codependence after spending so long only in eachothers company. But the airplanes part of it. The "before" is all done while 2.0 looks at the 'aftter' and 3.0 will look at the future. Whatever that may hold if I don't kill them with surprise hunters

[hyperactivetransdrone]

Look, I really wanna get a job, I really do, it's just difficult when ever NEVER submitted an application before, and while I've learnt HOW to make resume, I don't know what. TO. PUT. ON. IT. Because I've tried, my mother said I did it wrong, I've asked her for help. She said "ask my brother." And like bitch WHAT??? Aren't you a parent? Isn't your JOB AS A PARENT to HELP YOUR CHILD??? And like she signed me up for a "Vocational Rehbilitation" thing because apparently I'm soooo disabled I can't fucking get a job, which. Isn't true. My only problem I have with adhd is focusing for long periods of time... and 'ooo shiny'.

And they WONT help me get a job until I shadow enough jobs I like but the problem is THEY WONT LET ME SHADOW THE JOBS I WANT BECAUSE THE COMPANIES THINK ITS TOO MUCH OF A RISK. So they're no help. And I learned and he probably wasn't allowed to say it but luckily he's new to that company but the guy who's supposed to be helping has said that I don't need a resume on starting jobs? Well why the fuck did no one tell me? I'm thinking that it's not that people don't want me to succeed, it's that everyone is ROOTING for me to fail. But that's a bit crackpot but they also say "oh no one wants to work anymore" but then? Why is everyone making it so DAMN DIFFICULT THEN??? Like I wanna write a book, I really do. But I keep getting distracted, and that's on me but at the same time, I can't go to a public place where it's not acceptable to be horny so broadly to keep myself from going on here, so it's a little bit difficult, and I have to deposit $500/month to keep a checking account open so I can't do that yet, so I can't get a Patreon to get people to pay me for stories (I'm not good enough to start that anyway I wanna do some free stories first get my name out there)

But I'd also like to say, when I also LITERALLY DONT HAVE A LICENSE TO DRIVE ANYWHERE bc mother thought I shouldn't have one while in school, it's a LITTLE DIFFICULT TRYING TO GET A JOB.

I'm sorry I'm just... upset at everything right now, if someone wants to help please do, I will redact personal info if you help but yeahhh umm even if it's just:

Hey go study for your driving test

That'd be greatly appreciated

One last thing I forgot to mention is mother won't even help me study for the practical exam for my license soo again, it's really fucking hard to do shit, not to mention the lying she does to me constantly and the control she wants over me

But yeah, if someone could PLEASE help me I'll draw something for you, or write a story for you, or hell it's up to your imagination as long as it's not physical or personal, just please not money, that's hard enough.

Thank you for reading this far, I'm sorry for this I'm just... a little pissed lol

[deyadee]

Remnants

Before I get to bitching about not having my account anymore, I went to a pride street fair today. The same one I went to last year alone. I asked my one friend if she could and she couldn’t as she’d be taking a plane to another state today, so yet again I went alone. I feel a bit worse than last year because half of what I could focus on outside of sweating half to death was all the lesbian couples holding hands and walking through the event. Last year I at least saw one or two girls walking by themselves, but this time it felt like everyone was either walking with their partner or in a large group of friends. Sure that makes it easier to sneak around and get more free shit, but it just feels lonely when you see dozens of cute girls walk to literally every booth hand in hand smiling and laughing while you just bob around awkwardly like you’re literally just there to get free stuff. Not that I wasn’t partially just there to get free stuff, but it just feels weird when everyone else is laughing and talking and hanging out while you’re trying to keep out of the way of the booth operators so they don’t ask you to vote for whatever random crap they’re advocating for or to sign up for some newsletter. No offense, but I’m not here to talk about politics and know that everyone around me would probably think I’m some racist lunatic because I don’t agree 100% with them. I walked my ass off and there had to be twice the amount of booths this year, at least ones that I visited. Got some earrings and donuts like last year. Near the end it started raining like shit and I hid out in a donut shop, a nearby boutique, and wherever had bits of cover from the rain for parts of it. I mainly stayed in the boutique because I could watch the flag parade outside (still surprised they still did it in the rain) through the front window. This I guess lesbian couple (they looked like literally the straightest girls you’d ever see with the exception of lesbian flags on their shirts and flags, and rainbows on their shoes) came in and started looking around in the small store. I complimented their outfits but I didn’t wanna seem creepy since they were together. I stared out at the people walking around with umbrellas in the rain. I should’ve brought one. I know it’s stupid and it’d never happen in a billion years because there’s millions of better options than me but I kept thinking of those cute anime scenes where one person would have an umbrella and then a more extroverted person who didn’t have an umbrella would quickly rush under and ask to share their cover- leading to them talking and eventually falling in love. I know. I know. It never happens. Either it doesn’t happen or it only happens to people more interesting than me but I just zoned out staring out the window. Knowing I would die alone, only being a boring spectator to fill a crowd.

Anyway, now that my gay rant is over. Time for my attention craving rant.

I don’t know how long it’s been since my account got deleted, but I still feel like it was yesterday. I wake up everyday and have ideas for videos or things that I wanna talk about before remembering I’m back to just lurking online now. I go to check what comments were left and what people thought of my last video and I see nothing. I have my old accounts before the one that got big, but I’m sure the second I try uploading any content it’ll get banned too. Along with everything else I try.

I’ve been trying out YouTube Shorts and it’s pretty… fucking awful. Absolute goddamn shit. Wait wait, I forgot my video got 1 view! I’m basically an overnight sensation now, screw my previous content it’s got nothing on this!

Just as I thought, YouTube is an entirely different beast than TikTok. On YouTube you have to HOPE people to watch your video, on TikTok even if people aren’t sure they like your type of content they can at least try out one video. On YouTube you have to put an ungodly amount of effort and editing into literally everything you make, while on TikTok you can be any level of quality and people are still willing to watch if it seems interesting. I try reloading videos it does nothing. I try making new videos, nothing. No one fucking wants anything I make. I don’t make fucking cooking or science videos, the shit YouTube shorts seem to love, I make weird random videos about anime and toys.

I made three wishes in a fountain the other day. For my account back, a girlfriend, and a job. Guess I’m not meant to have those. That or I should’ve spent more than fucking pennies.

[peakyltd]

Holy shit... @call-sign-shark you left me speechless.

My god this was one hell of a rollercoaster and I surely don't know how to recover from this just yet.

The way you literally enchant me with the way you use your words is so incredible. All the emotions and feelings are described so perfectly and raw. Plus I love how you use those beautiful metaphors here and there, they really add something deep to the story and every time I'm in starstruck with what you come up with.

It started it off so painful, a mourning Tommy and the way he still wanted his little brother to look strong by pulling the sheet up to cover his wounds, really broke my heart. I didn't expect the intimate embrace of him and Heaven but it occured to me as sharing grief between two people. It was so beautifully described and it felt so intense. Even more so when Tommy realised why his brother is so head over heels for her, that she might be everything he's looking for and that he might deserve her even more than Arthur does. Pretty big words for someone who threatened her the first time he saw her.

BUT THEN, OH MY GOD???!!!!?!?!?!?!?!? I NEVER expected him to kiss her?????!!!! I was just as confused as she was, honestly. But of course little King Shelby can't handle rejection and tries to blame her first but the lowest he could go was blaming her for John's death. I felt so bad for her, she did what she could and he and his fucking little ego dare to tell her different. The pain those words must've caused are indescribable.

But then again I was hit with another twist. I was so invested and I think i never read words so fast. The way she tortured him, showing him what she's capable of and the way she made him BEG. Oh myyyyyy, he's never been treated like that and this man will NEVER forget about what happened. This was once again so intense, I was on the edge of my seat and the way she only let him live for the sake of Arthur and John had me in awe.

Then I'd think you'd let me recover for a bit, and you did. Just for a tiny bit because what the hell has gotten into Arthur. My heart sank when she found out he had done snow once again. Everything he had promised was thrown out of the window, broken by a weak moment.

I expected many things but not once had I expected him to dismiss her feelings like that. Assuming that, because her family passed a longer while ago, it is less important. Just the way he doesn't understand how much John meant to her is just as worse. Just the pain of someone you love, saying those things to you is just so so horrible. I would've left too, please drown in your fucking sorrow.

The last part reminded me of the first chapter. A lost man, ending up all alone. I don't know if you meant to do it but I think it's a beautiful kind of "circle" (there is a word for it but I forgot) you made there. I'm very curious of how he's going to fix this and if he's going to fix it.

Like I said Shark, what a ride. The intensity of every scene was so sensible trough out the whole chapter and I'm so impressed. Also I'm so in love with the way you write, you really know how to capture a reader's attention and every line is build up so *chef's kiss* I think that's also incredibly impressive. Can't wait to read the next chapter! 💓

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  John is dead. Your whole world crumbles. Arthur and you are facing your first real argument, and everything grows out of control -- featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.8k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, domestic violence, mention of drug use, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, self-harm, guilt trip, co-dependent relationship.

Notes:

✞ Read the notes at the end.

Previous || Masterlist || NEXT

The creaking which resounded in the whole morgue when the door opened sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. The infamous Peaky Blinders’ boss was standing next to the mortuary table, staring at the ashen face of his little brother, frozen in a peaceful expression. Although Tommy tried his best to remain neutral, the way his enchanting turquoise eyes gleamed belied his profound sorrow. A sorrow so distressing that he was not even able to express it – instead, his negative thoughts piled up inside of his already decaying heart. First Grace, then John… Tommy let out a long exhale from his nostrils while going on with his morbid contemplation. How many more deaths would he have to endure before his hunger for power was sated? “Fuck, I’m sorry John.” He whispered, softly pressing his large hand on his brother’s muscular shoulder. The sensation of John was cold and hard, even above the fabric of his blood-stained shirt, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” His hand then reached for the funeral shroud and pulled it over his brother’s chest, which had been riddled with bullets. He did not want John to look weak, even in death. He wished for people to recall his joy and strength, not his troubled last moments. “I’m sorry.” He reiterated, offering a last apologetic look at his little brother before turning around at the sound of someone’s heels beating the cold tiled floor. Tommy’s forehead creased as he furrowed his brows: he had not been expecting anyone now that Arthur and Esme had left.

“Tommy.”

The hypnotizing and melodious voice that called him led him to briefly open his eyes wide in surprise — especially when he recognized its owner. And when he did, his face immediately hardened. It was only seconds later that he saw you walking towards him with hastened steps, rivers of tears still streaming down your angelic face. He didn’t know what surprised him the most though, to see you here in this morgue, to hear you calling him “Tommy” and not “Thomas” for the very first time, or maybe the unexpected way you threw yourself into his arms. In fact, it was certainly a bit of the three at once. As soon as your body collapsed with his, the gangster’s muscles tensed, and his placid expression shifted into a stunned one: your affection had taken him aback.

“Oh my God, Tommy…”  You were crying your eyes out, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He could even feel the warm wetness of your tears on his skin, the little salty drops running down his chest and dying under his shirt. Esme had told him everything. Tommy blinked a few times to chase away the surprise and, gradually, his body relaxed as he felt your frail being snuggling against him, the freezing sensation of your dainty frame meeting the warm temperature of his skin even separated by the clothes you were wearing. He gave you a quick glance from above your head to check if what was happening was true and, finally, he sighed. As his arms wrapped around you softly, you felt like you were falling apart and, ironically, the only thing that held you together at this very moment was Thomas Shelby. The man you hated since day one.

“I’m here.”  His quiet and deep voice simply stated, soon followed by his arms tightening around you and his fingers gently diving into your waist, not willing to let you go anymore. To hell with your mutual hatred, you thought, Tommy had just lost a brother and you wanted to be here for him too. Surely, all the ice of his heart couldn’t shield him from grieving a loved one.

What started as an awkward hug soon turned into a powerful embrace when Tommy indulged in your love. All the resent, all your past arguments, all the fear… The more you were pressing together, the more they were turned into dust, “I’m fuckin’ here.” One of his hands ran up your body only to rest on the back of your head, inviting you to nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck even more – which was what you did, desperately looking for comfort.

“I can’t… I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.” Your voice was merely a desperate whimper, for the uncontrollable sobbing and the ball of sorrow in your throat wouldn’t allow you to align more words. Another hiccup — The excruciating sadness almost suffocated you when you realized that John’s dry blood was still stuck under your nails.

“He’s gone, Heaven.” His words, stone cold, made you shake like a leaf, to the extent that Tommy was now certain you would shatter if he were not holding you. He started rubbing your back with his powerful free hand, the other clenching its fingers on the back of your head, “Listen to me.” He started, holding you firmly against his strong body: he was not going to let you all apart.

“They fucking shot him! Ces enculés lui ont tiré dessus!” You repeated in French, and of course he understood. He tried to hush your worries down but it didn’t work. Deaf to his attempt to comfort you, you gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated and painful cry. John was dead and your whole world felt like it was collapsing. Your little fists hit Tommy’s strong chest in a weak blow, anger taking over sadness as seconds passed. You were angry at him, at you, at Changretta, at the whole damn world. In truth, your mind didn’t know how to cope with grief anymore, and rather let you experience various emotions to test which one hurt the less. In response, the gangster restrained your movements by hugging you tighter and then, he brought his lips near your ear to keep you focused on him and only him.

“Hey, listen to me now.” He said with a firmer tone, catching your attention. You glanced at him and froze, realizing how dangerously close his face was, “I want you to calm down. You’re a fucking Shelby.” Despite his harsh words, Tommy’s tender caresses made amends for his toughness and managed to dry your tears up. His palms, then, wandered on your back and shoulders, stimulating every nerve of your quivering body to anchor you to reality, “There. Better.” He finally praised you, warming up your body with the sole power of his touch and rubs. Feeling calmer, you sniffed a little bit and tried to focus on the musky yet delicate fragrances of his cologne rather than on John’s corpse that was lying a bit further from you.

“Better.” You softly replied, surprisingly lulled by little King Shelby’s presence. A real miracle. Once comforted, you decided it was time for you to move your body from him and break the embrace though. After all, Tommy and you had never got along. Plus, you were pretty sure he wanted this to end as quickly as possible now that he had done his in-law duty. But, somehow, a little part of you still hope for this moment to improve your relationship from now. Maybe things wasn’t that hopeless? You were about to move but the gangster didn’t let you leave him. Quite the contrary, he pulled you closer until your breasts flattened against his chest and your cheek rested on his collarbone. Surprised, your lips parted but no sound came out.

“Stay.” Even though he did not mean it, his tone sounded like an order more than a request. Truth was, he couldn’t control it – the way his heart had quickened at the physical contact he was sharing with you unsettled him. As much as the thought that you came to him for comfort, not to your husband. Under the crushing weight of something he couldn’t name, Tommy delicately rubbed his perfectly shaven cheek against yours and buried his nose in your long white hair to get himself drunk with your spring-like perfume, “I’ll keep you out of sorrow, if you ask me,” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight and deepening his embrace again, until it became slightly painful. His thoughts swirled in his restless mind, and between plans for the Vendetta and the grief of John’s death, there was you. You and your intoxicating perfume. With his breath quickening and his lower lip trembling, Tommy allowed himself to sink into your softness, “And you’ll keep me out of it.” His husky voice was merely a murmur only you could hear. A soft whisper even the Grim Reaper, who was leaning over John and contemplating about where he was going to send him, did not catch.

“What do you mean?” You bated your doe lashes, confused at this sudden passionate demonstration of affection. But Tommy didn’t reply. In fact, he did not even hear a word you said for his mind was trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings and sensations that were drowning him. He felt like a sailor thrown into a raging see, desperately trying to keep his head above the water, and the only hope for him to survive was to cling onto you as hard as he could. The truth was it felt so good to have you in his arms, blessed with your holy and calming aura, that he had momentarily forgot what pain was like. For a split second, colors came back in his black and white life – something he hadn’t experience since Grace’s death. Letting out a relieved sigh, Tommy gently pulled his face away from you only for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes to dive into your celeste iris.

“It’s going to be alright, Tommy. It’s not your fault.” You stuttered, trying to comfort him too despite being slightly confused by his intense stare. Nevertheless, you could not help but commiserate with him, grief being one of the most universal human feelings to share. United in pain, you offered him a faint smile. The fearful gangster replied with utter silence – struck by the fact that he loved how his nickname sounded in your mouth. Only his brows frowned slightly as he watched you for the very first time: your big fair eyes, your long lashes, your plumped lips, the way your snow-white hair reflected the dull lights of the morgue… Last time he recalled having stared at you like this was during your first meeting, when his hand was wrapped around your throat. Worried by the unfamiliar ways he was looking at you, your little cold fingers grazed one of his hollow cheeks as softly as a feather’s caress to bring him back to his senses. A surge of electricity ran through his soul at the skin-to-skin contact. You touched him and, all of sudden, Tommy understood Arthur. He understood what he meant when he told him you were an angel. And after the epiphany came a moment of madness.

“No, it won’t.” He admitted with a sad tone you never suspected he was capable of. At his words, he finally gave in and broke the distance between your lips. Life flashed before your eyes, your brain momentarily ceasing to function at the soft press of his mouth. Tommy’s hand had wrapped itself around the back of your neck, keeping you from moving your face with one thick and strong palm. His kiss, eager but indescribably sensual, made your heart miss a small beat. It took you two solid seconds to realize what was happening, and one extra to push him away from you as he started to make it slow and deep with the wet stroke of his tongue. Forced to take a few steps back, his chest vibrated with a low groan of disappointment.

“No, Tommy.” You stuttered in a whisper, astounded by his bold and senseless move. Your fingertips grazed your swollen lips, still tingling with the sensation of his lips against yours, all the while your otherworldly pale eyes gawked at him wide open.

Tommy’s lashes fluttered, then he slightly shook his head to chase away the sweet torpor that had overtaken him for a short while. Regaining his composure, he clenched his jaws and tried to cope with your rejection. Admittedly, it had been a bit too much for him to handle. Why did he do that? What did happen in his goddamn mind? And how the hell could a woman say no to him? Unfortunately, Tommy couldn’t find any answer to these questions. All he found was frustration and anger, fueled by his unsufferable heartache of John’s death.

“No.” Tommy’s face closed up, going placid again while the blue of his iris turned two shades darker, “No” he repeated, trying his best to keep his emotions how he always did: hidden behind coolness, “So why did you come here and throw yourself in my arms?”

His question had taken you aback, for you didn’t expect him to wonder about such a trivial thing. Somehow, you wondered if he ever knew what the definition of platonic love was, or if all his interactions with women, except the ones from his family, always led him to their bed. “I just wanted someone to talk to...” Your eyes fled his, and you folded your arms to hug yourself, feeling suddenly freezing, “And I thought you’d maybe need someone too? I mean… I wanted to comfort you too. Just not—like this.” In truth, you were left agape by the whole misunderstanding. And by Tommy’s unfathomable mind.

Not minding that he was in a morgue, the King of Small Heath took of a cigarette from his pocket and rubbed it nervously on his lower lip before lighting it. Thoughts were now racing in his mind, along with your words. He could have dismissed the topic with a simple wave from his hand, but he couldn’t come to terms with how good you had made him felt for a few fleeting but intense minutes. Tommy’s chest rose and fell with rapid breath, for both shame and anger had crept into his bones. Why? He thought. Why did his brother had been allowed to meet you before he could? Why did Arthur, broken and fragile Arthur, had been allowed to have a loving woman by his side and not him? After all, he was the one who needed it the most. No, he was the one who deserved it the most. But now Grace was dead, all women he shared his bed with tended to leave an unpleasant after taste of ashes in his mouth, and the one he thought who could heal him didn’t want him. What kind of freaking curse was that? But in his inner turmoil and feeling of unfairness, Tommy forgot to take into account the real problem: you could do nothing for his heart. No one could.

“Alright then, you wanna talk? We gonna talk, ey. I wanna know something, Heaven. Why didn’t you save him ey?” A cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth, leaving you wondering if it was due to the cigarette or to his rage.

“Sorry?” You asked, feeling your shoulders tense.

He threw his cigarette further away before squinting his eyes as he talked to you “You resurrected a damn bird. Polly talked y’know. She told me you had the great power of healing, something that’s fucking rare. So why?”

“Why?! Why what?! What the hell are you implying?” You were starting to lose your patience, already fed up with his mean games. Moreover, your emotions was already all messed up with all the earliest events.

“Why the fuck didn’t you save John?! Why the fuck didn’t you bring him back to life?” His voice rose, resounding in the morgue so loudly that John probably heard it from where he was.

You blinked, astonished. “Because it doesn’t work like that, you fucking idiot!” You replied to his screams with louder ones, now troubling the dead’s final rest.

“Of course, it doesn’t. Isn’t it a bit ironic? I mean… For everyone, you’re a saint. For Arthur you’re a fucking angel, ey, even a divine being. But now that you have the occasion to use your wicked powers for something useful you can’t even do it!” His prose had turned into poison, seeping through your veins and contaminating soul.

“Thomas, stop it.” You begged, trying to remain calm. Surely, you didn’t want to argue right after John’s death. Especially not when he was there… You took a quick glance at his motionless body and your heart sank. Was it your fault?

“I told you what it is. You’ve bewitched all of them. You’ve bewitched me,” His eyes darkened, “All your so-called gifts come from the Devil... So come on! Bring John back to life, you fucking witch!”  He was now pointing John with his index finger, “Bring him back now!”

“HIS HEART HAD STOPPED BEATING!” You howled, self-control breaking down.

“It doesn’t matter, you had let him die!”

“I didn’t!” You shook your head, rage taking over you, “It’s the blood. My witchcraft doesn’t come from the Devil, it comes from the fucking blood. From the human body. That’s what I manipulate. I could have done something if his heart had been still beating the slightest, or if it had just stopped. But it wasn’t the fucking case!” Tears of wrath left a moist trail on your skin as you wiped them away quickly with the palm of your hand, “He was dead for too long when I found him!” A short silence fell in the morgue after your attempt to justify yourself – Tommy didn’t buy it.

“It’s your fault.” He concluded in a quiet and low tone, desperately trying to both find someone to blame for his brother’s death, and wanting to make you pay for rejecting him.

“W-What?” His words had stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’s your fault if John is now lying in a fucking morgue, dead and cold. You have let him die.”

“I didn’t!” Your voice broke.

“You fucking did! Look at him now, look at his fucking corpse riddled with bullet! Look at the fuck you did, ey!” Tommy had stepped aside and pulled the shroud from John’s body. Doing so, he gave you full sight on his bloody chest, whose round bullet wounds were already darkening. Such a macabre spectacle momentarily broke the last bit of sanity you had left.

John, Oh John, your soul lamented.

“ENOUGH!” You yelled. The way your usually sweet voice screeched was so powerful, so inhumane that all the lights of the morgue flickered, rendering the place even more ominous than it already was. On top of the dancing lights, whose glow had been undermined by your own darkness, the atmosphere around Tommy thickened. The gangster swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly overtaken by an unpleasant and eerie feeling of unease. In other circumstances, your brother-in-law’s change in behavior would have appeased you. Especially when considering that shutting up was not in Tommy’s habits. Nevertheless, far too hurtful words and years of restrained spite got the best of you: from the moment you met to this one, Tommy had been nothing but a bane. Anger rippled through you, hardening your maimed heart and blurring every notion of decorum you’d usually try to respect for Arthur’s sake, “You wanna make me your villain?” You had stopped screaming. Quite the contrary, your tone had turned from a bawling banshee to the quiet and sinister sigh of Death. With that last question posed, you extended one of your arms, palm facing Tommy, and spread your fingers, “I’ll give you a reason to fear me!”

At first, Tommy raised a brow wondering what the goal behind your move was. Then, the fact you dared to scream at him and insult him – certainly combined with your rejection – made rage coiled in his stomach. He opened his mouth, about to reply to your arrogance when words choked in his throat. Hit by a sudden and obliterating pain in the chest,  Tommy pressed his hand were his heart was and looked up in terror as a thin trickle of blood started to run down one of his nostrils, dying his thin lips with a crimson color, “What—What are you doing to me?!” He stuttered, barely hearing his voice because of the sound of his own heart beating faster and faster echoed in his skull far too loudly. However, you didn’t answer him, far too consumed by the flames of your rage, licking though your delicate bones and dainty frame. With your hand still facing him, you started to close your fingers very slowly. Tommy coughed for each inch your fingers moved, his lungs were crushed harder in his tight chest. He wanted to scream – scream to let out the pain, scream to stop you, but the only noise he could make was muffled squeals, similar to an agonizing prey.

“Here is what I can do, Tommy! This is the pain I am capable to cause with my delicate and fragile little being! See? If I can heal, I can also make one sick and destroy them.”

“S—St—Stop...” He tried to beg, bloody mouth gaping, desperate for air. But this time he was not only met by your silence, but by the worsening of his pain to the extent that his legs were about to collapse. No, you didn’t want to stop. In fact, you wanted him to pay for everything. You wanted him to kneel.

“Beg.” Your voice echoed in the morgue and your eyes were staring coldly at Tommy Shelby who, crushed by the extreme pain you were exerting on his body, had no other choice than to rest one of his knees on the ground, right in front of you. The metallic taste of blood that kept running down his throat, thick and hot, enhanced his suffocating and labored attempt to breath. At this point Tommy had one certitude; you were going to kill him. Whether by a heart attack or by smashing his lungs to a pulp, it did not matter. What mattered was that, for the very first time since you met, he was at your mercy. Far too well he understood that all you had to do was to close your fist, and then he would end up lying down on the table next to John’s.

The shovels, the dirt in his mouth, everything came back to his mind as he fought to breath.

“Heaven!”

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say,” You spoke calmly, “I think I’ve had enough of your hypocritic ways and your unjustified battle against me, whose only goal is to tear me down. I am not going to kill you, Thomas Shelby. But if I spare you, it’s only because, first I don’t want to murder you in front of John, and then, because Arthur loves you. I don’t fucking know how he still does after every mean thing you’ve said and done to him, but the facts remain that he does.” You paused, finally reopening your hand, and lowering your arm. It didn’t take more for Tommy’s lungs to finally be able to stock air again and for his heart to return to a normal pace. The gangster immediately inhaled, still under the shock of what had just happened. Hands on the cold tiled floor, eyes wide open, he was shaking like a leaf in a raging storm, “So for Arthur’s sake and John’s memory, I want you to wear your most beautiful smile next time you’ll see me. Just like you told me the first time we met ey?”

By the time you’ve stopped stabbing him with your murderous and poisoned words, Tommy had managed to stand up on his quivering legs. Yet, he was still catching his breath and pressing one hand on his chest to alleviate the soreness of his lungs. He licked his lips to clean the blood off them, the taste of his own crimson essence reminding him of what he was: not a God. Much less the Devil. Just one simple mortal man. At this very moment, Tommy Shelby had lost his splendor. Still shaken and utterly terrified by your wicked abilities, little King Shelby looked at you, his face contorted in pure horror and disgust. “You…”  His enchanting turquoise eyes, whose color made women’s head spin, were now glazed with an almost primal fear, “You’re a fucking monster.”

“At least we have something in common.” You retorted, before turning your heels and leaving the morgue. John’s spirit wasn’t there anyway.

Following your quarrel with your brother-in-law, all you wanted was to go back home and hide from this cruel world in Arthur’s arms; the only place in which you could find a bit of inner peace. Moreover, you knew he would certainly need you after his visit at the morgue.  Your holy tears had flown from your eyes all the way home, only chased away by your delicate hands. The only thing that kept you from collapsing in the midst of the streets, weeping on the ground like a fallen angel, was the thought of finding your husband. It has always been you against the rest of the world anyway. So, what was your disappointment when hours flew and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. 

A little sigh escaped from your lips as you poured the rest of the red wine bottle you had opened earlier in your glass. Once your glass was refilled with alcohol, you simply dragged your exhausted body to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, looking blankly at the dancing flames in the hearth. Before panic settled in, you thought that Arthur needed time for himself after being informed of his little brother’s death — which was perfectly fine and understandable. He had every right to stay with his family, grieving the loss of his own blood. But the more time passed, the more his absence was weighing on you. Feeling your sorrow, Kaiser woke up from his nap, stretched his muscular body, and came closer to rest his large head on your thighs. The dog’s cropped ears were flattened, and his large hazel eyes were looking at you with sincere worry.

“That’s okay big boy, that’s okay.” You gently stroke his head, but despite loving your caresses the Cane Corso let out a sad whining sound, “I know…” You simply replied, knowing that Kaiser missed Arthur too, on top of hating the sight of you being that mournful. Suddenly, the mutt’s ears raised again, and he turned his head towards the door, sensing someone was coming. Trusting his shape senses, your eyes looked up at the entrance too. When your instincts weren’t working, you knew you could always count on Kaiser and tonight was no exception: only seconds later the door opened, revealing Arthur’s lanky silhouette. You got up from the sofa, putting your glass of red wine on the coffee table, and watched him carefully. 

“Cheri?”

“Hm.” The only reply you got was a grunt, followed by his staggering frame walking past you without stopping for a hug nor a kiss. In fact, you wondered if he even saw you. The strong scents of alcohol and tobacco floated in the air at his passage, leaving no doubt on his intoxicated state. You sighed, watching him walking towards the furniture and pouring himself another whiskey. Not the first of the evening for sure.

“Arthur, maybe you shouldn’t do that.” You said quietly, with care and sincere worry. Losing John had broken him, obviously, so you knew you had to be delicate with him. A lecture was definitely not what he needed at this aching moment, which was why you used suggestions rather than orders.  Nevertheless, your husband remained deaf to your gentle advice and gulped down the alcohol in one mouthful, right before pouring himself another glass. You shook your head and walked to him, for you could not let Arthur drink his pain until he passed out – because that was what he was trying to do. Somehow, he only acknowledged your existence when he felt your hand gently touching his arm, right above the thin texture of his shirt, “I’m going to run you a bath and we’ll go to bed, alright?” You finally said, knowing that no words would ease the tormenting grief he was experiencing. Why? Because you did too. John Shelby was your best friend. No. He was more than that, he was like another part of you. But as you weren’t blood-related, you’d rather leave your own pain on the back burner and take care of your husband, who hadn’t lost a friend but a baby brother. A loss whose ache you knew far too well. Taking this into account, you didn’t want to ask him if he was okay nor if he wanted to talk because you knew that no he wasn’t and no he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Arthur drank the second glass of whiskey and put it on the furniture a bit bluntly, his reflexes numbed by alcohol, “Yeah…” He sniffed, tears flooding his vision for the umpteenth time today – he had lost count. He didn’t think he had some left but here he was, crying again, unlike Tommy who could hold it well. “Heaven…” He moaned in pain, his suffering coming from the deepest part of his soul. You opened your lips to reassure him but you stopped: there was something unusual in his voice, “I need ye to save me …” He begged, turning around to face you even if his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“I’m here.” One of your hands reached his waist with an indescribable tenderness, “Look at me Arthur.” The other slipped under his chin and gently forced him to look at you — which he ultimately did. Yet, the moment your eyes dived into his iris your heart stopped beating for a micro-while. His pupils were so dilated that the blue of his eyes was barely visible, reduced to small rings around two soul-sucking black holes. From then, you were quick to react: you slipped your hand in the pocket of his trouser and, when you did, your fingertips were met with the cold surface of a little vial. “No…” You whispered, pulling the object from his pocket and observing it with genuine disgust and disappointment. In truth, you could recognize it from miles away for those blue and small vials usually contained cocaine, “What the fuck, Arthur!” you exclaimed, stepping back from him and showing him the small bottle you were holding between your index finger and your thumb.

“What?” He straight off hissed, eyes half closed and his body slightly reeling left to right due to his state of inebriation.

“Did you take it?!” The answer was obvious, but you still wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to admit it and assume the consequences of his relapse.

“Yes I did eh!” He finally exclaimed after one long second of staring at your eyes, searching for any kind of excuses he could find. But the disappointment in your frozen iris kept him from lying – He definitely could not do this to you, even drunk and high. You closed your eyelids a brief moment, for his words felt like a stab in the chest despite you already knew the undeniable truth.

“No Arthur that’s not going to be possible. You made a promise,” You tried to remain calm but red wine, your fight with Tommy, and the mess in your emotions had destroyed your diplomacy, “You’ve promised me! That’s… Thats not going to help you cope with John’s death!” One of your bare feet was nervously tapping the wooden floor.

“AND HOW AM I GOING TO COPE WITH IT EH? FOOKIN’ HOW?” He burst in anger, your words fueling the raging fire that was burning inside of him. Carried away by his emotional turmoil and the drug, Arthur swept the furniture with one violent movement of his arms, knocking the bottle and the glass over. The cacophony of broken glass made you jump a little as they crashed on the floor, exploding in dozens of shards.

You looked at him, shocked to the core, for he had never really yelled at you before. Each time his voice would rise in your presence it was always because of external factors, never because of you. In truth, Arthur had never got mad at you. The more he could do in your presence was being grumpy. However, tonight you were the source of his sudden anger, and such a revelation hurt like hell. For a fraction of a second, your angry expression flickered into an aching one. Still, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and answered him with a cool, almost placid tone.

“Don’t yell at me. Understand?” You warned him, jaw clenched and every muscle of your tiny body tense,  “I don’t want you to take drug except on very, very rare occasions and I must be here– It was part of the deal.” You punctuated you sentence by throwing the vial into the fire, which burnt brighter for a short while. Arthur scoffed, his lips stretching in a sarcastic and irked grin.

“Isn’t it a fookin’ rare occasion? My brother’s dead. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that needs to be celebrated properly eh.” His bitter smirk disappeared as he winced with pain, bringing his trembling hands in his hair to pull it. “I need to numb the pain. To numb everything. Oh God, John is dead. Dead. He’s fookin’ dead!”  Each time he repeated the last word, Arthur hit his head with his fists. The dancing flames reflected in his teary eyes, and lit his face with an orange hue. It was getting hard to tell if such an effect came from the fire in the hearth, or if he was burning from inside.

“Stop it Arthur!” You grabbed his wrists with your little hands, trying your best to keep him from hurting himself, “I know alright? I know you’re suffering and I’m deeply sorry for it. I swear I’d love to take your pain away, but I can’t. I can’t,” You forced him to look at you by squeezing his wrists, “Thing is, I don’t want to watch you destroying yourself with cocaine or God knows what other kind of drugs! That’s out of fucking question!” Despite your attempt to remain calm, your emotions got the best of you. The betrayal of him breaking his promise was more painful than a bullet shot through your chest. Maybe more painful than losing John itself. Tears began to stream down your face as you let go of Arthur and observed his enraged and dilated pupils.

“What the hell do ye know, eh.” Arthur stumbled, closing the distance between you a second time and leaning over until his face and yours were only a few inches away. His whiskey breath fanned over your skin. “What the hell do ye knew about pain, little angel? You have no idea what I’m going through. If ye did you’d be the first to snort snow ey.”  

“Listen,” You sniffed, swallowing back a sob. Okay, maybe yelling at him wasn’t the best way to react so, in a desperate attempt of not aggravating the situation, you forced yourself to regain your calm  “I’ve lost my family, I know what it—”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!” He cut you, yelling so loud your ears buzzed, “THEY’VE BEEN SIX FEET UNDER FOR A FOOKIN’ WHILE! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT JOHN! MY LITTLE BROTHER!” Arthur’s eyes darkened and then, he bared his teeth like a wounded wolf trying his best to scare someone away, “They’ve riddled him with bullets, those mops. Those bastards! We’re in a fookin’ war and here you are scolding me like a kid because I took drugs! That’s fookin’ ridicu—”

The sound of flesh snapping echoed in the living room when your hand slapped him, followed by a heavy silence only the fire’s cracks broke. Arthur backed up at the blow, eyes wide open. Slowly, his shaking fingers brushed his reddened cheek, right where his skin was tingling. At this well-deserved reality check, the tall gangster blinked several times and finally noticed the heart-wrenching pain in your glistening eyes. You, who had tried to hold back your tears and be strong for Arthur, could not keep your sadness for yourself anymore. They flowed from your holy eyes, salty waterfall of sorrows. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not a single sound. It was not really the fact you had hit him that petrified his whole soul, but rather the realization that he had hurt you, his beloved angel. The woman of his life.

Your face contorted with a caustic combination of pain, sorrow and anger. In truth, you didn’t want to hit him. You really didn’t. But he had been barking at you like a rabid dog, almost spitting at your face as he screamed. And then, he had the stupid idea of talking about your family while knowing what had happened to them. All brutally murdered in a matter of hours. Guided with rage, your blood had boiled, and your hand slapped him even before you truly realized it. “Don’t talk about my family like this anymore.” You hissed through gritted teeth, your cold voice seeping through him and turning his blood into liquid nitrogen.

“Heaven…” Arthur said, feeling himself breaking down at your hateful gaze. He quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, thinking carefully about the next words that were about to come from his mouth but you didn’t let him the time to speak. You had heard enough.

“Shut up. Seriously Arthur, just… Shut up.” Your eyes, who always looked at him with indescribable love and tenderness, were now filled with Hell’s fury and it tore his soul. All of sudden, he felt very small despite towering you with his height.

“You think I’m not suffering from John’s death? You have no idea how much he meant to me. Of course, he wasn’t my brother! Of course, his blood doesn’t run through my veins. But still, he mattered like no one else did, except you.” Each sentence had a bitter taste. Then, you turned away from him and walked to the smashed bottle to take one huge shard between your fragile fingers, “You wanna know how it makes me feel when you’re high? We’ll that’s easy.” Now you were determined to make him understand, no matter what it took. First thing, you showed him the pale flesh of your forearm, “I’m not Linda, right? I didn’t put a leash around your neck because I trusted you. Now, I want you to look at me carefully. When you take drug, it’s as if I was doing this to myself.” Turning your words into deeds, you suddenly slashed your skin with the glass fragment in one quick motion. The sharp surface cut your skin just like butter, and crimson blood quickly filled the gash, overflowing from it and dripping down your arm to your elbow under Arthur’s astounded eyes.

“No, angel!” Suddenly sobering up at the sight of blood on your porcelain skin, he almost pounced on you and took the shard from your hand to threw it away, “The fook ye did eh?! Bloody hell…” Arthur tried to take your arm to examine the depth of your wound but you pushed him away with a stern “Don’t touch me”.

Don’t touch me. Surely, you didn’t mean it right?

You didn’t – Arthur’s heart ached.

“Now just imagine that all you can do is watch me cutting myself until, one day, I bleed to death. How fucking bad it would make you feel? How powerless?!”

“Gosh Heaven, you’re hurt. Oh God!” Arthur started to panic, tears filling his eyes and shoulder jolting with dawning sobs. His whole being ached at the sight of you wounded. It was stronger than him: he couldn’t bear the idea of your being hurt, even less when it was because of him — whether he was the direct cause or not. “I’m sorry love. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” He begged, trying to approach you again but each step he made caused you to step back. Arthur’s hand slowly squeezed his own arm, for he could almost feel the pain of your cut on his own unwounded flesh. Everything began to spin around him as he realized how stupid he had been, “Please, love…”

“Keep your apologies for yourself, Arthur. Let’s make things clear:  I’d rather burn at the stake than watch you slowly killing yourself with this shit.” You retorted, turning your heels and heading to the door not minding the fact you were not wearing shoes and that your arm was abundantly bleeding. It didn’t matter, you needed so fresh air and, more than anything, you needed to be away from Arthur for a little while. Meeting his eyes had become far too painful for you to bear anymore. You had almost reached the door when the gangster’s long and calloused fingers grabbed your hands to hold you back.

“No! Don’t leave me! Please, please I fookin’ beg ye but don’t… Just don’t leave me, Heaven.” He kept repeating over and over again, the gravel in his voice rising from one octave under the weight of despair and utter fear. The way his menacing traits had turned into the facial expression of a panicking child was truly heart wrenching – Arthur could not live without you, and it wasn’t a euphemism. Yet, you snatched your hand from his and, as you did, his very soul crumbled. As painful as it was to see him like this, you just couldn’t let this pass – he had to understand how serious you were about the whole drug issue, and how deep he had maimed your heart. You took one last look at him, shaking your head in disapproval, and stormed out of the house, letting the darkness of Watery Lane swallowing you whole.

At first, he had wanted to pin you against the wall and force you to stay. His desperate mind, seeking for any way to keep you by his side, had even thought about threatening to kill himself with his gun right in front of you if you left, but he had been frozen by the disappointed look on your face. Petrified by your gaze, as a poor unfortunate traveler meeting Medusa’s deadly eyes. Following your departure, Arthur had screamed until his throat hurt and his voice broke. The drowning misery he was experiencing, far worst than suffocating in French tunnels, had led him to destroy everything he could in the living room. Maddened by the thought of losing you, the flip in his brain switched and nothing made sense anymore. You had left him alone here, and he felt his mental health getting worse and worse as minutes passed, until he was completely out of his mind. He had done all he could to alleviate his guilt and sadness: from throwing in the fire all the cocaine he kept to hiting a furniture until his knuckles’ skin cracked open. God, he even threw his lanky frame at the wall several times in a frenzied attempt to knock himself up and get a break from the pain of your absence, but nothing worked. He was now sitting on the rug, rocking himself back and forth in front of the dying fire. If you didn’t want him anymore, all was left for him was to blow his damn brains out with his gun for if you’d rather burn than witness his fall, he'd rather die than existing one sole second without your heavenly presence by his side. He could afford to lose Linda, John, hell even Tommy, but he couldn’t do it without you.

Arthur looked at his wedding ring, jaw clenched and heart in bits.

He had fucked up. And he had fucked up really bad.

As he always did.

✞ Readers are left to interpret/choose what the characters feel for the reader. By no means it wants to make Reader/Heaven a Mary Sue everyone loves. Nevertheless, fanfiction should remain fun for readers so that's why I leave most of the things open to interpretation.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

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