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sophiethewitch1 · 10 months ago

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What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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ashtxrie · 4 months ago

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submitted 11:59 pm

— alternatively, enhypen maknaes as your typical high school crush!

PAIR. high school! enhypen maknaes x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total HYUNG LINE VER.

김선우 — kim sunoo

candy hearts, spotify playlists, good morning texts, easy laughter, crescent smiles

in high school, sunoo's known as being super friendly and sociable

and because of that, he has a ton of friends

like he basically knows everyone

you and sunoo have definitely talked before, and you may have had a teensy tiny crush on him from your... downward of five interactions

he's kind of like your hallway crush!

however, you DON'T know that he has had a crush on you for FOREVER

like a MASSIVE one! SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL

and his friends are SICK AND TIRED of hearing about it

man's dedicated because he really saw you in every single one of your phases and STILL decides to like you. he's a real one

he's so whipped like he's hitting up the group chat (named "en- gang" by riki btw) at 1 in the morning being like

"GUESS WHAT?!!! she smiled at me today ☺️ i forgot to tell you all"

everyone is so done

"did you talk to her though"

"NO. i'm getting there"

"all you did was make eye contact for the past month be srs rn"

so one day jay and jungwon (your mutual friends), who were in the same english class as you both, were feeling DEVIOUS

it was the fall semester final project, and it was supposed to be worked on in teams of 2 to 3

"bro you are NOT working on it with us the love of your life is literally RIGHT there"

jay and jungwon took matters into their own hands and forcefully excluded sunoo ("you guys are so fake")

so now, with no other option, he had to approach you!

"do you have a group already? if not, we could work together?"

wait wtf he didn't say that

hey....

it was YOU???

you approached him first??? he was SHOCKED

tried to play it cool but his smile gave away how happy he was

"yes!!!! let's work together!!!!! :)"

the project actually went so well he has literally never been happier typing away on that document every night

updates the group chat periodically too

"when we were working on the google doc at 2 am in the morning our cursors went over each other’s & it was like we were holding hands :>>"

"how do i unsubscribe"

"you're just mad because you've never been in love <333"

secretly sunoo's thanking his friends though because now you guys are basically close friends!

while doing the project together you started talking about school, friends, life, and everything in between

talking with you just seemed so natural, and sunoo wonders why he was so afraid of it before

i'd like to think that with you, sunoo doesn't feel the need to always put on the bubbly and outgoing side of him

sometimes, he can just be quiet and calm sunoo with you, and the silence feels so comfortable and safe

you start hanging out more and more, and soon you've met so many people through sunoo that they think of you whenever they think of him too

it's like a package deal!

throughout this time he's still madly in love with you btw

he just wants to take things slow! he didn't want to scare you away or anything

and yes, the gc is STILL getting their daily sunooyn Down Bad News Network

"today during lunch she gave me a yakult bottle, i think she’s starting to like me back! :D"

he does Not know you've liked him all this time

the mutual pining is crazy

he (finally) confesses after a whole YEAR

he's super nervous about it, has possible plan b's scripted and sat through 30 minutes of youtube subliminal audios the day before for extra good luck

after he says his whole heartfelt confession, he gives you this handwritten letter with all of his favorite moments with you in the past year, complete with spotify codes next to each one that links to a specific song he thought of at the time

you teared up a bit because oh my gosh it was so cute he was so cute and your heart just melted

you told him you've liked him since forever too and he was FLABBERGASTED

you both also reveal that you've BOTH had hidden spotify playlists dedicated for each other???

let's just say that even years later, the 'en- gang' group chat would NEVER let sunoo live down his digital footprint

양정원 — yang jungwon

strawberries, honors classes, coming of age, familiarity, inside jokes, paper rings

your childhood best friend

who just so happens to also be mr student council president, king of extracurriculars, resident academic powerhouse

and also a LITTLE SHIT about it

since elementary school, you've got some friendly (and not-so-friendly) rivalry going on

"we both know who’s going to get the higher score for this chem final”

“yeah, and it’s going to be me”

“NAH”

but the drive you get from the competition is really what brought you guys together

it's what keeps you motivated, it's what keeps you going

and he's funny! (though you'd never admit it)

because yes, you're both trying to beat each other for the top spot in class rank

but you also get each other

you've been study buddies since the beginning of time, and he keeps the two of you accountable

sometimes he's TOO responsible

"jungwon don't let the pomodoro timer dictate you life can we PLEASE take a snack break right nowww"

"we literally did that FIVE MINUTES AGO"

outside of studying he's really chill though

one summer he started to get really into alchemy of souls and you binged the series twice together, effectively destroying both of your sleep schedules right before school started

he just loves existing in the same space as you tbh

definitely loves calling you for hours during the school year, whether to review for an upcoming exam or to just have the two of you do your own things while connected on the phone

it's pretty common for the two of you to fall asleep while on call with one another

late night yapping sessions (hello??? his weverse addiction??)

he feels like he can just let his responsibilities go and you're the only person who really understands him and everything he does and why he does it

lowkey.... he also just wants to make you proud :(

he was so happy that one time you offhandedly mentioned how you've seen and appreciated all the hard work he was putting in for one of the school events

when he eventually confessed to you, everything just made sense

like the way your eyes always lingered on his bright smile when he showed up on your doorstep at the crack of dawn

and how even when you tease each other, you never miss how he would reach for your hand with his own before retracting it hurriedly as if changing his mind

now, oh he just makes you feel so loved

texts you at random times of the day just because, sending you the most random images and captioning them with "us"

he's still got the silliness in him though!

"i want to try every strawberry with chocolate combination with you <333"

西村力 — nishimura riki

neon lights, school dances, sunglasses, finger guns, playful banter, shared hoodies

honestly he's just at school for the vibes

however, he DID take homecoming very seriously

with one goal in mind: to DOMINATE the dance floor

and dominate he did.

he partied in the USA so hard that by the end of the night, everyone was talking about that freshman who left everyone speechless at a HIGH SCHOOL DANCE

among those witnesses of how riki out-danced the entire school population, were you

and you thought he was literally the coolest person ever

fast forward two years, and you're a junior now

it's all good! you've definitely outgrown your month-long admiration of the Guy From Hoco

but yo what guess who sits right next to your seat in class???

it's the Guy From Hoco himself

honestly, you're a pretty chill person so you turned to him and were like "hey aren't you that guy that got famous back during hoco freshman year?"

but now? he’s EMBARRASSED to admit it

"oh uhhh that wasn't me haha"

boy bffr you would know his face anywhere

you kind of gave him a questioning look and shrugged

"oh well, i thought it was really cool though"

he instantly backtracks, because you thought it was cool and NOT an aura loss????

"wait i think i remember now haha that WAS me!!!"

you guys match energy so well tbh

he started to catch feelings for you because of how funny you were and how you two just clicked, but he was stuck in denial FOREVER

"I DON'T CHASE I ATTRACT" (desperate)

heeseung also tried to give him "rizz counseling" but that just ended up with them both saying "mb gang" at everything

which was..... not very rizzy!

you had convinced him to audition for the competition dance team at your school, which he obviously made

he texted you the day he got in too, typing in all caps in everything which he NEVER does

"why would you scream about things in caps lock when you can be cool and nonchalant" YEAH SURE RIKI

updated all his social media bios to @[school]varsitydanceteam the moment he got the acceptance notif

“[name] is my instagram bio tuff”

“WHY ARE U ALR PUTTING IT IN YOUR BIO"

"because i’m committed and it lets them know i’m part of a professional community"

(heeseung told him that it would show his commitment to the sport and thus his potential to commit to you.)

at this point, riki was ready to fire heeseung and switch to jake as his ghostwriter 💀

but little did he know, you started liking him too once you saw how genuinely hardworking he was when he has a goal

like those hours he spent on call with you asking if you thought this one move was clean enough?? he really put in his all (he also wanted to impress you)

you kind of had the idea that he liked you back, because let's be honest he was being a bit obvious about it

the way he almost choked when you hugged him congratulations??? he looked DAZED for a whole hour

you had to confess to riki because his heejake rizz courses consisted mainly of heeseung and jake arguing about whose approach was better

even when you two became a couple, you still had teasing as a love language LMAO

"HAHA 🫵🫵 YOU'RE SO SHORT i still love you though <3"

it's just how he shows his love, but he also loves draping his arm across your shoulders when walking around

made sure to emphasize to heeseung and jake that this was all his doing and they did not help him at ALL

but let's be real, YOU were the rizziest of them all

and riki agrees <3

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia @asteria-wood

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penultimate-step · 4 months ago

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Lately, I've been thinking about the effect of real-world time on perception of media. Or, wait, let me start from the beginning.

When I was 11, I read the book Ender's Game for some school assignment or another. I don't remember ever considering Ender a relatable character, but certainly my understanding of the events was shaped by being of an age to see the protagonist not so much as a young child but as someone of my peer group, someone who could have been slotted amongst my classmates without anybody batting an eye.

Over a decade later, I read the sequel, Speaker for the Dead; it takes place many years later, when Ender is in his thirties, and my feelings about the in-universe time skip were undeniably shaped by the real life time gap between my reading of the novels. Reading the first book back then and then the second book now created a feeling where it's almost like, I'm browsing the facebook page of someone I had known in middle school but lost contact with, checking up on how they're doing today. The real-time factor caused me to perceive it less like a timeskip, and more like a reunion - the feelings were closer to "oh wow, that's my boy! I haven't seen him in years! Wonder what he's up to?" Which in turn gave me a better position to appreciate the parts of the narrative about him struggling to find a place in his adulthood than I would have been had I perceived it more strictly as a quick skip from 11 to 20 to 36.

While musing about this, I considered a VN I played a few years back, which took place over three in-game days - except at the end of one in-game day, the game would lock you out from progressing for 24 hours real time. So that as the in-game investigator protagonist was ruminating on the information that had been discovered that day, the player would be forced to do the same. In this example, by forcing the player to experience the same timeframe as the in-game characters, the sense of it being an in-depth and extensive investigation increases, even though without the forced pauses the game would be short enough to blow through in a handful of hours real-time.

Which brings to mind how time effects things in long-running serial works. It's well known that an audience which watches an episode or reads a chapter week by week has a very different experience than one binging through whole seasons or volumes at a time, but I wonder if the real time relative to the in-universe time makes that effect stand out more? Fight scenes, for instance, have been known to take up several chapters in certain manga or webnovels. What does it do to the reader's perception, if from their point a view a fight takes a whole month, while for the characters they read about it's only been a couple hours? Readers might feel that the situation is more stressful, since the pressure of the fight has been ongoing for a long time for them, while in-universe it was a rough afternoon but no more than that. Contrastingly, when a series skips ahead or otherwise has long periods of time for characters that feel short for readers, it can feel like no time has passed and everything is still the same, unless the author really stresses the differences in world-state that occurred offscreen. Because the reader hasn't changed at all.

No conclusion here exactly, I just think it's interesting how often an audience's response to a work, the emotions felt, are more closely tied to their real-life timescale, something almost completely out of the author's control, as opposed to in-universe time, which can be intentionally shifted or played with for the sake of the narrative.

#speaker for the dead #fiction #step.blogger #step.books #ender's game

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javierpena-inatacvest · 18 days ago

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Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.”

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade.

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less.

“Hurricane’s coming.”

“Bomb’s dropping.”

“World‘s ending.”

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic.

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense.

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning.

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last.

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?”

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself.

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.”

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed.

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.”

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back.

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding.

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood.

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.”

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home.

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound.

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon.

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up.

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours.

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down.

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you.

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under your breath.

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had.

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions.

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like.

You know he’s right.

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.”

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.”

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game.

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention.

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?”

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf.

“Hey!”

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you.

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming.

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat.

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold.

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-”

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!”

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.”

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them.

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.”

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?”

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you.

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.”

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small.

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Frankie.

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right.

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.”

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name.

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?”

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him.

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed.

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort.

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks.

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.”

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment.

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which.

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.”

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke.

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade.

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours.

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football.

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you.

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you.

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task, to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales.

You weren’t ever going to let him down.

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you.

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.”

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?”

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.”

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend.

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them.

“Fine. She can stay.”

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi.

“Nice work, Kenz.”

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest.

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind.

Frankie, Present

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there.

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place.

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t.

“Hey, Mamá.”

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-”

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.”

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?”

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.”

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-”

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.”

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago.

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there.

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey.

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come.

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all.

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person.

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for.

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad.

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too.

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!”

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!”

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.”

“Perfect, you look just like him.”

“Frankie!”

“Kidding, kidding!”

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same.

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters.

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it.

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you.

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now.

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is.

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi.

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass.

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.”

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth.

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?”

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you.

“Fine. What flavor jello?”

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.”

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left.

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.”

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.”

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering.

“Your dad only eats jello?”

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.”

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before.

“Um, w-why?”

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better.

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it.

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from.

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.”

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.”

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back.

“Your dad sounds nice.”

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?”

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know.

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.”

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building.

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys.

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.”

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.”

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?”

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.”

“Are they as bad as mine?”

“No. They’re worse.”

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say.

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

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t1oui · 6 months ago

Text

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #hp #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #harry potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #starchaser #sunseeker #ik this is very late but i wrote it today and realized it could apply to may 3rd’s prompt so here you go

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strangererotica · 6 months ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader • Includes breeding kink, semi-public sex • this one is short & sweet, but spicy too 😉 enjoy!

Steve’s hand reaches for you under the table, his fingers slipping beneath your skirt. You glance at him sitting beside you, as he continues to smile and chat with your guests while his index finger strokes your thigh.

You know what Steve’s up to, the message he’s silently conveying. A glance at his wristwatch confirms your suspicions; 2 PM. Steve’s right on schedule. It’s time for him to breed you.

Because you planned to have friends over today, you assumed Steve would put aside the ‘routine,’ you’d both become accustomed to. Every day at 2PM, and every evening before bed (usually around 10 or 11 PM) Steve makes love to you. His goal, and yours, is to have you pregnant as soon as possible.

When you’d first told him your desire for children a few months ago, Steve had been absolutely insatiable. He’d ask you for sex several times a day, occasionally fucking you up to five separate instances in one twenty-four hour period. That first week was absolutely exhausting; you loved Steve’s enthusiasm, how totally onboard he was with the idea of having a child. But the amount of sex Steve requested was unrealistic in terms of the toll it took on your body.

By the end of that first week, you’d been fucked so often you could hardly walk. Steve was a gentle, considerate lover; but with a cock as big as his, and the way he threw everything he had into the task of fucking a baby into you, the impact on your body was too much. You both settled on a routine that cut the amount of sex in half, so your body could recover in between.

With guests over today, you assumed Steve would forgo the usual routine. But here he is, slipping his hand between your thighs…all while conversing with your guests as if nothing is happening beneath the table…

Steve chuckles at a funny joke told by a friend seated across from you, as his index finger slides under the waist of your panties. You shift in your chair, forcing yourself not to whimper as Steve gently massages your clit. How can he act so normal? you wonder, as if he isn’t playing with your pussy mere inches away from your group of friends?

Steve’s boldness, the dirtiness of what he’s doing, has your clit plumping to meet his touch. It somehow feels dangerous…and you don’t want him to stop.

You twist and turn in your seat, trying to keep the pleasure between your legs from reaching your face. You nod politely at your guests, biting your lower lip as needed to keep from moaning.

The pressure inside you builds and builds as Steve’s fingers rub mercilessly over your clit. You’re sure that if he keeps going any longer, you’re going to orgasm right there at the table, in front of everyone. But Steve senses how close you are, and removes his hand from your panties, leaving you throbbing and frustrated.

“Excuse me for a minute, will you?” he smiles at your guests. As Steve rises to leave, he turns so his crotch is hidden behind your chair. “I need to see you about something,” he whispers at your ear, and walks out of the room.

You excuse yourself as well, and follow behind Steve like a lovesick puppy. As soon as he gets you into the hallway, Steve takes your hand and pulls you with him into the bathroom. You can hear your friends talking beyond the door as Steve closes it behind him and turns the lock. His hand closes over the back of your neck. Steve bends you forward over the sink, working his belt and pants undone as you hurriedly tug up your skirt.

He kneels down and kisses your ass. Steve’s teeth nip your flesh just slightly, making you shiver. He raises up and uses one hand to yank your drenched panties to the side, and guides his cock between your lips in one abrupt thrust.

Steve grunts into your hair as he aggressively humps you, his hand sliding around your throat to hold you in place. The moan that leaves your lips is loud and wanton; Steve slides his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. You cling to the edge of the sink, your belly pressed against the cold ceramic. Steve’s free hand closes over your breast, groping you tenderly, your nipple perking against his palm.

Your climax ripples through you in powerful waves. You come moaning Steve’s name into his hand as it stays clamped over your mouth, your pussy sucking and milking his cock. Steve slams his hips forward, emptying his seed against your cervix with a low groan of relief.

He carefully pulls out of you, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. Steve fixes your panties, and his hair, then unlocks the door with a wink in your direction. “Run along now and be a good host,” he tells you, cheekily smacking your ass. “Our guests are waiting...”

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mrshowlettsgarden · 8 days ago

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hiiii can i please request prompt 11? thank u!!

─➭ i got two requests for this prompt! ugh, I wish somebody would hold my hand the way logan would. hope you guys love this one! - kaya <3 (prompt list)

Hold My Hand, Please - Logan Howlett: the one where you get anxious, and he notices

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: prompt #11, very mild anxiety, comfort, soft!logan

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

Logan noticed right away when he first met you that you play with your fingers when you're nervous. But after the last few months he’s spent his time with you since he came to the mansion, you do it when you’re stressed too. Whether you're caught in an uncomfortable situation, you’re thinking, or simply when he’s around you.

But for the last reason he hasn't come to that conclusion yet and he does not need to know that he makes you nervous in a good way.

Sometimes you tap each finger on the opposite hand with your thumb once or even twice per finger. Other times if you’re wearing a ring or rings you continuously turn the ring over and over again, along with turning it the opposite direction. Another time he’s seen you pick at the skin of your fingers but that one is a rarity. You’ll even tap your nails on each other to a beat.

It seems that you play with your hands and fingers to distract you from whatever it is that’s pushing your buttons, but he can sense that sometimes it does little to nothing to help.

During his time at the mansion, he's made it a routine to check on you when you're hiding in the greenhouse at night. It puts himself at ease even though he knows you’re safe in your element. And he enjoys the quiet walk towards the greenhouse away from the chaos going on back inside the house.

Today he noticed that you’ve been in the greenhouse all day. You haven’t come inside the house at all so he went to check on you.

As he walks towards the door, he senses something is off right away. Especially with the way the branches nearly threw the door open in his presence. He scrunches his eyebrows as he picks up his pace to find you.

“Y/n?” he called out as he walked further through with caution.

“Over here, Logan,” he hears your soft voice come from his far right.

He comes out from one of the flower covered archways to find you standing in front of the chalkboard that’s filled with a bunch of letters and numbers that he can’t find the will to decipher. When he walks closer to you, he sees that you're rolling a piece of chalk between the pads of your fingers as you stare holes into the board.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks as he stands next to you mimicking your stance in front of the board.

“What makes you think that I’m not?” a gentle smile graces your lips as you continue to roll the chalk all over your fingers.

You haven't looked over at him yet. Too afraid to lose the pattern that you’ve been studying about a plant Charles had given you this morning. You’ve never met a more stubborn plant before, and it's been hard to communicate with it because well… you almost want to say it too shy to speak.

It has an unnatural growth pattern and possesses something in the stem of it that has paralyzed those who’ve touched it with bare hands. So far, the ones who have touched the plant haven’t recovered yet. They're still paralyzed from the neck down and one is under a coma.

It’s a powerful and dangerous plant. And you just can’t figure out what the fuck it is…

“Well, for one thing you almost tore the door off while I was walking up here,” he smirks as he gazes through your neat writing. But the jumbled up words and numbers is hurting his eyes."Jeez, are ya' tryna' create a new math equation in here?" he jokes.

A small, quiet laugh was heard from you and when he looks over in your direction he can see the distress in your bunched up eyebrows. Upon seeing the look on your face, he moves his gaze to your hands. The grip you have on the small piece seems to have gotten stronger that it’s close to breaking with bits of it falling off.

“Hey, hey,” he says worriedly as he takes a hold of your hand, and you finally look at him. You have an upset look on your face and he’s ready to punch a hole into whoever and whatever it is that’s causing this. He removed the chalk from your hand and weaved his fingers between yours in comfort. “Talk to me… What’s buggin’ ya’?”

You're almost in tears as the weight of your stress starts to release, feeling the warmth of his hand engulf yours. You look up at him and you begin to feel at peace seeing his hazel eyes matching your gaze. You sigh before explaining to him that Charles has tasked you to figure out what, when, and how this plant came to be. And despite literally having the power to help you figure out what the problem is, it’s not helping whatsoever.

“I don’t know what to do, Logan,” you say in an uneasy tone as you look down at your shoes in defeat.

The hand holding yours tightened as he took a step closer to you. You feel Logan’s free hand lift your chin to get your eyes to look back at him and when you do, your eyes widen a little to see the most tender look on his handsome face. You don't think you've ever seen a look on him like that before.

“What do you need, darlin’” he says just above a whisper.

You didn't have to think about what you needed because he was already doing it.

“Just keep…holding my hand, please,” you whisper.

Logan gives you a simple nod of understanding.

“And I won’t let go till you tell me too.”

Even when you do, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to.

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett prompts #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett drabble #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine

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bluejeanstrash · 1 year ago

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11/10

a/n: i got this idea from an nsfw prompt generator so if anyone else has already done this, that could be why ✌️

tags: fwb! seungcheol, overstimulation, semi-dacryphilia, forced orgasms

w/c: 2.3k

in hindsight, telling the most competitive guy you know that you may or may not be faking your orgasms with him was probably not the best idea.

it was just 4 hours ago when jun had suggested a game of truth or drink. and it was just 3 hours 45 minutes ago when he had asked you ‘have you ever faked an orgasm?’

‘yeah?’ you’d answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. and because whatever was in that alcohol was making you loose-lipped, you had continued.

‘in fact-’ a pause ‘-and i’m not proud of this, but i’m really good at it. the guy could never tell’

there was an immediate murmur of we can tell around the table but you interrupted.

‘trust me, you can’t. those guys still think they’ve given me the best sex of my life but they were horrible. i faked it so i could get done with it and go home’ you took a sip of your drink despite answering.

‘so, anyway, yes i’ve faked it. many times’ you had concluded, looking directly at seungcheol when you said that. you didn’t mean to look at him, he was just there in your line of sight.

he also had this funny expression on his face, somewhere between amused and offended.

were you trying to tell him something?

seungcheol and you were in a (secret) friends with benefits thing. you didn’t really call it that but that’s what it was. it had happened as a result of another game of truth or drink around 3 months ago, and thankfully, every orgasm with him in those 3 months had been very much legit.

so, when you’d seen him outside the bathroom later you’d clarified.

‘you know i wasn’t talking about you, right?’ you reassured.

‘of course you weren’t’ he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

it had annoyed you. no man should be that confident.

‘oh? confident much?’

he’d leaned in, a little too close for being in public, and said ‘i may not know a lot of things...but i know how to make a woman cum’

and as his thumb softly grazed your lips, he’d stated ‘i know how to make you cum’

‘do you?’ you retorted, moving back ‘or have i been faking it and you just think you’re doing a good job?’

you don’t know why but you kind of wanted to piss him off. i mean sure, you were sleeping with him, but seungcheol was your friend before a fuck and it was always fun messing with him.

‘what are you trying to do?’ he’d asked, an eyebrow raised in mild annoyance.

is this a challenge?

‘i’m not trying to do anything’ big. fat. lies. ‘i’m just saying you’d never know’

sounds like a challenge to him.

(12:40 am)

‘please, no more!’ you move under his arms, writhing desperately.

‘answer the question’ he holds you in place, his grip tightening around you.

‘how many was that?’

‘f-fou-r’

‘did you fake that one?’ he asks softly.

‘no, i didn’t! i fucking swear!’

‘hmmn’ you feel a trail of gentle kisses travel up your neck ‘but you said i would never know, remember?’

seungcheol’s voice sounds sweet. so very sweet. but you know that tone—it's pure condescension masquerading as sweetness.

right now, you’re sitting on the floor, back pressed to seungcheol’s chest, locked in his heavy arms.

after jun’s, he’d offered to drive you home, which had recently become code for ‘let’s go fuck’. and before you could even kiss him at your apartment, he’d grabbed your vibrator.

he’d made you sit in front of the floor length mirror, nestled in between his legs, with a towel laid out underneath as he played with you. were you getting pampered today? maybe.

it sure felt like it after the first orgasm, and the second. but when he’d moved on to your third before you were even done with the last, you realised what this was. a lesson. a lesson for running your mouth.

‘another one then, just to be sure’ he hums, before pressing the vibrator back against your clothed cunt.

40 minutes in and seungcheol hadn’t even bothered to take your panties off. there was something quite erotic about seeing that damp patch on your underwear spread as he made you cum over and over. proof, he called it. and by now you were soaked, the silky fabric clinging to your puffy lips.

you squirm at his words, fingers digging into his skin at the overstimulation. he doesn’t even flinch.

‘look what you’re making me do to you’ he clicks his tongue like it’s a pity. like he doesn’t fucking love it.

‘you know i want to let you go, right? but we just have to be sure so there’s no confusion about this in the future’

subtext: if you ever fucking insinuate that i can’t make you cum, i’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.

you try and wriggle again, but there’s no point—you’re completely at his mercy.

‘tsk, don’t move around so much. you should rest now. you’ll need the energy’ he cooes.

you can only whine helplessly at his words as you feel your brain and body consumed by a familiar high. and so you cum again, moaning his name as you do.

‘how many?’ he asks while you’re still coming down from it.

‘f-five’

‘did you fake that one?’

you tell him you didn’t. you promise.

‘are you sure about that?’

‘i’m sure! seungcheol please’

‘hmmn’ for a second there he actually contemplates letting you go but your cocky little words ring in his ear.

‘i’m not’ sadistic fuck. and once again you feel the relentless vibration as you jerk forward, your legs clamping shut. immediately, seungcheol drags you back, his lips gathered in a pout of displeasure as he drapes one heavy leg over yours to spread you open.

‘where are you going? hmmn?’ he presses the head against your throbbing clit, not letting up for even a second as he forces another orgasm out of you. your sixth.

drained. that’s how you feel after you cum, your body falling limp against his. ‘seungcheol, i’m done’ you whine feebly, hoping to garner a little sympathy.

‘no, no’ he shushes you ‘we’re not close to being done here. i haven’t even seen your pretty pussy yet. how can we be done?’

he leans forward, two fingers grabbing the fabric of your wet panties to pull them aside. ‘how pretty’ he smiles, gaze fixated on your slick cunt, and a split second later you hear the hum of the vibrator again. the second it touches your exposed cunt, a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

‘f-fuck’ you curse, feeling that knot in your stomach just a few minutes later.

‘coming already?’ he taunts as you end up giving him another.

‘that makes seven’ he counts it for you like he’s helping you out. you’re not sure how far he wants to push you today, but you do know you need to make it easier for you somehow.

‘please…can’t anymore…the vibrator’ you manage to string together in between quick gasps. the intensity of it against your swollen clit is too much. you need relief—something soft, something warm, something gentle—like seungcheol’s fingers.

after what seems like forever, the buzzing stops. ‘thank you’ you whimper and are met with a wry chuckle, his body shaking behind you.

‘you shouldn’t thank me yet’ he whispers. one of his big hands wraps around your throat giving it a light squeeze before sliding down your body to your cunt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

‘so wet for someone who’s faking it’ he mutters to himself, thick fingers sliding in between your wet folds as he scoops up your arousal, pushing it back inside you. his finger slips in so easily that he adds a second. as he fucks you, fingers moving in and out, a vulgar squelching noise fills the room.

‘so fucking wet’ the softness of his voice now layered with something heavier. you can tell feeling you with his bare hands must’ve really turned him on. or at least that’s what his hard on pressing into your back is saying.

as you watch his fingers disappear inside you and come out all slick and shiny, your body somehow starts to crave another orgasm.

he knows it too. the way your walls begin to squeeze around him as he curls his fingers up, two stimulating your g-spot, while his thumb rubs your clit, all working up an incredibly hard orgasm.

‘go on…let me see you cum for me’ his voice is all you needed to hear, because a second later you come, for the eight time, gushing all over his fingers.

‘look at yourself’ he commands.

you do, looking lazily at your reflection through tired eyes.

‘look’ he grabs your face, forcing you to look.

‘what’s that dripping out of you?’

your eyes drop to the towel that has a very telling wet patch on it. getting overstimulated with the vibrator always made you a little messy but not like this; never like this.

‘answer me’

‘cum’ and so much of it. the way it’s stained the towel, the way it’s spread all over your inner thighs, and the way it’s still dripping out of you is such a pretty sight for seungcheol.

but you’re exhausted. it was so intense and there’s no way you can do it again.

‘seungcheol…i don’t have any left in me’ he can’t help but smile at your silly little statement.

‘no?’ he plays along, pulling you closer. his one hand grabs your breast, softly caressing it, before taking your nipple in between his fingers. his other, slides down to your swollen clit to rub in slow circles. and finally, his soft lips kiss down your neck, peppering little pecks along the way before stopping at that spot that only he knows exists. and as he stimulates all three so slowly and sensually, you feel your body start to betray you.

‘when did you turn into such a little liar, hmm?’ he asks, feeling your body start to tense up like it always did before release. he knows this feeling, he’s felt this over and over for the past three months—you can’t fool him. and as you bite back your moans, it takes over, and you cum again. number nine. seungcheol smiles to himself, and doesn’t stop.

he keeps going despite you just having given him one. it’s sore and sensitive but the way his lips have latched on to that spot on your neck it’s impossible not to surrender.

in a consistent rhythm he builds your high back up - neck. breasts. clit. you look at yourself in the reflection and god, it’s so erotic. the way he’s holding you—tight and completely under his control, his arms flexing as he masturbates you—makes you dizzy.

you want to curse and scream as you cum but you’re too overstimulated to formulate a single thought. only eager little moans spill out of your mouth.

‘go on, i know you want to’ he coaxes as you do, thrashing and tugging at the fabric of his pants.

‘i thought you had no more left in you?’ he teases as you come down from your tenth.

maybe it was a lie before but now you really don’t. isn’t 10 enough? he has to be satisfied with that. there’s a few seconds of silence when you think he might be. he lulls you into a false sense of security as your eyes fall shut, and then the sick sound of the vibrator fills the room again. no.

‘what do i need to do?’ your eyes sting with regret as you feel it touch your extremely sensitive clit.

you know what you need to do. you just don’t want to do it.

he pushes it harder, toying with you. fine.

‘i’m sorry, okay?’ a desperate apology finally spills out.

‘i take it back! you would know if you made me cum’ you whine. he says nothing, simply increasing the intensity.

‘i’m sorry’ your voice breaks as two perfect tears roll down your cheeks. until now, seungcheol had only ever pushed you to tears from the denial of pleasure, never from too much of it. he finds it incredibly arousing.

‘you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate’ he says, looking at your pathetic reflection in the mirror. you look so pretty with those wet eyes and a dripping wet pussy that he suddenly feels forgiving.

‘cum for me again and i’ll let you go’ he kisses your neck. a wet little kiss.

‘i can’t’ you cry, tears flowing free now. ‘i can’t’

‘you can’ and you will for him.

‘you’re going to give me one more’ he says like you have no choice in the matter and presses the vibrator harder against you as you grab onto his arms.

‘shhh, don’t cry. be a good girl now and cum for me again. then i’ll believe you’ he cooes.

‘show me…show me how you can’t fake it with me’

as your start to spasm, your body shaking under him, you let out a moan, half of pleasure, half of exhaustion. you grip him harder, nails leaving red scratches all over his pale skin as the orgasm takes over.

he watches, fascinated at how you’re still giving him body shaking, toe curling orgasms after this many; at how your body moves at his command. he’s satisfied.

finally, you hear the buzzing stop as he puts the vibrator away. he wraps both arms around you, holding you in a tight embrace, his lips brushing against your ear.

‘how many was that?’

‘eleven’ you admit, not believing the number coming out of your mouth.

he smiles. god, it feels really fucking good to have been proved right 11 times. his eyes drop to the mess you’ve made—on the towel, on his hands, between your own legs and he feels extremely smug.

‘so, did you learn your lesson?’ he asks sweetly, placing a single kiss on your shoulder.

‘yes! i did. i promise!’

did you? well, if this is your punishment you may just have to piss him off again.

#scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol imagine #scoups imagine #scoups oneshot #seungcheol x you #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol drabble #scoups drabble #seungcheol oneshot #scoups fanfic

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

Text

Too big to care

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Remember the first time you used Google search? It was like magic. After years of progressively worsening search quality from Altavista and Yahoo, Google was literally stunning, a gateway to the very best things on the internet.

Today, Google has a 90% search market-share. They got it the hard way: they cheated. Google spends tens of billions of dollars on payola in order to ensure that they are the default search engine behind every search box you encounter on every device, every service and every website:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Not coincidentally, Google's search is getting progressively, monotonically worse. It is a cesspool of botshit, spam, scams, and nonsense. Important resources that I never bothered to bookmark because I could find them with a quick Google search no longer show up in the first ten screens of results:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Even after all that payola, Google is still absurdly profitable. They have so much money, they were able to do a $80 billion stock buyback. Just a few months later, Google fired 12,000 skilled technical workers. Essentially, Google is saying that they don't need to spend money on quality, because we're all locked into using Google search. It's cheaper to buy the default search box everywhere in the world than it is to make a product that is so good that even if we tried another search engine, we'd still prefer Google.

This is enshittification. Google is shifting value away from end users (searchers) and business customers (advertisers, publishers and merchants) to itself:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

And here's the thing: there are search engines out there that are so good that if you just try them, you'll get that same feeling you got the first time you tried Google.

When I was in Tucson last month on my book-tour for my new novel The Bezzle, I crashed with my pals Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. I've know them since I was a teenager (Patrick is my editor).

We were sitting in his living room on our laptops – just like old times! – and Patrick asked me if I'd tried Kagi, a new search-engine.

Teresa chimed in, extolling the advanced search features, the "lenses" that surfaced specific kinds of resources on the web.

I hadn't even heard of Kagi, but the Nielsen Haydens are among the most effective researchers I know – both in their professional editorial lives and in their many obsessive hobbies. If it was good enough for them…

I tried it. It was magic.

No, seriously. All those things Google couldn't find anymore? Top of the search pile. Queries that generated pages of spam in Google results? Fucking pristine on Kagi – the right answers, over and over again.

That was before I started playing with Kagi's lenses and other bells and whistles, which elevated the search experience from "magic" to sorcerous.

The catch is that Kagi costs money – after 100 queries, they want you to cough up $10/month ($14 for a couple or $20 for a family with up to six accounts, and some kid-specific features):

https://kagi.com/settings?p=billing_plan&plan=family

I immediately bought a family plan. I've been using it for a month. I've basically stopped using Google search altogether.

Kagi just let me get a lot more done, and I assumed that they were some kind of wildly capitalized startup that was running their own crawl and and their own data-centers. But this morning, I read Jason Koebler's 404 Media report on his own experiences using it:

https://www.404media.co/friendship-ended-with-google-now-kagi-is-my-best-friend/

Koebler's piece contained a key detail that I'd somehow missed:

When you search on Kagi, the service makes a series of “anonymized API calls to traditional search indexes like Google, Yandex, Mojeek, and Brave,” as well as a handful of other specialized search engines, Wikimedia Commons, Flickr, etc. Kagi then combines this with its own web index and news index (for news searches) to build the results pages that you see. So, essentially, you are getting some mix of Google search results combined with results from other indexes.

In other words: Kagi is a heavily customized, anonymized front-end to Google.

The implications of this are stunning. It means that Google's enshittified search-results are a choice. Those ad-strewn, sub-Altavista, spam-drowned search pages are a feature, not a bug. Google prefers those results to Kagi, because Google makes more money out of shit than they would out of delivering a good product:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/4/2/24117976/best-printer-2024-home-use-office-use-labels-school-homework

No wonder Google spends a whole-ass Twitter every year to make sure you never try a rival search engine. Bottom line: they ran the numbers and figured out their most profitable course of action is to enshittify their flagship product and bribe their "competitors" like Apple and Samsung so that you never try another search engine and have another one of those magic moments that sent all those Jeeves-askin' Yahooers to Google a quarter-century ago.

One of my favorite TV comedy bits is Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator; Tomlin would do these pitches for the Bell System and end every ad with "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company":

https://snltranscripts.jt.org/76/76aphonecompany.phtml

Speaking of TV comedy: this week saw FTC chair Lina Khan appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was amazing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

The coverage of Khan's appearance has focused on Stewart's revelation that when he was doing a show on Apple TV, the company prohibited him from interviewing her (presumably because of her hostility to tech monopolies):

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/apple-got-caught-censoring-its-own

But for me, the big moment came when Khan described tech monopolists as "too big to care."

What a phrase!

Since the subprime crisis, we're all familiar with businesses being "too big to fail" and "too big to jail." But "too big to care?" Oof, that got me right in the feels.

Because that's what it feels like to use enshittified Google. That's what it feels like to discover that Kagi – the good search engine – is mostly Google with the weights adjusted to serve users, not shareholders.

Google used to care. They cared because they were worried about competitors and regulators. They cared because their workers made them care:

https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/2019/4/4/18295933/google-cancels-ai-ethics-board

Google doesn't care anymore. They don't have to. They're the search company.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

#pluralistic #john stewart #the daily show #apple #monopoly #lina khan #ftc #too big to fail #too big to jail #monopolism #trustbusting #antitrust #search #enshittification #kagi #google

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houseofripley · 9 months ago

Note

hello :) I have fanfic idea. So how about reader comes over to Rhea’s house and it’s snowing so reader has to stay longer because of the snow storm but Rhea pulls out the game dunk desires (a spicy card game) and things get heated ;) (PLZ SMUT AND FLUFF ENDING🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾) anyways bye bye 👋

Locked In.

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, Thigh Riding, Spanking, Strap-On Riding, Strapwarming, Slight Manipulation??? WORD COUNT: 2,773 A/N: literally started working on this the second i saw this. loved this prompt

“Hello hello! I’m here!” You called out as you let yourself into your friend Rhea’s home. “You better not be robbing me, I have a knife!” Rhea joked from the kitchen.

You approached the woman finishing cutting up a watermelon. “You need to learn how to lock your door Rhe-Rhe.” Rhea set her knife down and turned to face your direction, flexing her arms. “Have you seen these guns? No one could stand a chance,” she said before putting the chopped up fruit in a bowl. “Also I left it unlocked for you, it’s fucking freezing out there. I didn't wanna make you wait in the cold.”

“What a gentleman,” You teased as you patted her back. The both of you made your way into the living room before plopping yourselves into the couch. “I swear people completely forget how to drive the second they see a couple of snowflakes.” You grumbled while a chuckle came from Rhea.

The two of you had spent the past few months spending bits of your free time together growing your friendship closer. But the past few weeks Rhea had been begging you to come to her place nearly everyday. She also became more possessive over you, you noticed how jealous she got two nights ago when you went out with your group of friends. Rhea only talked to you the entire night and would tense up whenever you spoke to anyone other than her.

“Now why was I dragged to your humble abode today?” You questioned as the snow fell outside the large window several feet behind you. Rhea gave you a big cheesy smile before saying “Board games!”

You groaned “Will you ever get bored of forcing me to play your old people games everyday?” You complained to the woman. “You know you love it,” Rhea claimed before adding on “I just want to finish one last episode of my show.” As Rhea began watching her show, you stared at the dark twilight outside.

Both of you were soon disrupted by a weather alert blurting from the TV. You turned away from the window and looked over at Rhea whose eyes were glued to the TV screen, then turned your attention to the weather alert reading “Winter Storm – Blizzard Warning: In Effect 6 PM Through 11 AM – No Travel Advised.”

“Shit,” You mumbled looking at your watch. 5:28 PM. “I should get out of here before the roads get too fucked.” You said as you stood up. Rhea quickly grabbed your hand “No stay, I don’t want you driving out there. The roads are probably slippery already, I’d feel awful if I made you go home in this weather.” She coaxed.

“I’ll be okay Rhea, I really don’t wanna be a burden.” You said looking down at her. “I want you to stay.” Rhea stated, grabbing your other hand. The pair of you studied each other's faces before you nodded “If you insist…” You mumbled while the woman smiled and let go of your hands.

As the last few minutes of Rhea’s show played she made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of beer bottles to place on the coffee table. “If we're gonna be stuck here we gotta at least get buzzed.” Rhea voiced as she made her way to her closet which housed all her games.

You sat on the floor in front of the sofa as Rhea brought back an assortment of Monopoly, Skip-bo, and Connect 4.

“You ready to get your ass beat?” Rhea taunted, causing you to roll your eyes. “In your dreams, Ripley.” You bantered. Rhea winked at you before taking a swig of her beer.

The woman had beat you in both Monopoly and Skip-Bo. “I need some damn wine.” You grumbled as you stood up.

You poured two glasses of the first red wine you noticed then brought them out to the living room. “Thank you, beautiful.” Rhea smirked, her compliment catching you by surprise leading your cheeks to flush.

“You’re cheating!” Rhea accused after multiple rounds of her losing to you in Connect 4. You made a sarcastic angry expression “It’s Connect 4 how would I cheat!?” You snickered out. “It’s gotta be rigged!” She swore. “Rhe-Rhe it’s a piece of plastic I promise it's not rigged, also it’s not my fault I’m always two steps ahead of you.” You said playfully patting her thigh.

“Not always,” Rhea muttered under her breath. You shot her a confused look, “Hm?” You hummed out. “Ah nothin’ you go pick the next game.”

Rhea scootched back onto the sofa as she watched you make your way to the closet. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion once you spotted a sealed box. You walked back to Rhea, sitting down next to her holding the box she bought just hours before you came over.

It was a card game that you never heard of, ‘Drunk Desires’ was labeled on the plain black box. “I have literally never heard of this…” You commented, Rhea gave you a look of disbelief before voicing a simple “Seriously?”

“What is it? Teach me how to play!” You urged, assuming it was a game comparable to Cards Against Humanity. “Oh I’ll teach you how to play,” She purred out as she opened the box. “All you have to do is draw a card and do what it tells you, if you don’t you have to take a drink…but only draw the white cards first.” Rhea instructed, scooting closer to you.

The game seemed simple enough so you took a hold of the white card on top of the deck.

“Tell your game partner what you adore most about them.” You read out, you looked at Rhea smiling. “Ummm, I like your constant attitude…and big strong muscles.” You giggled out. “Oh yeah?” Rhea took a loose grip of your upper arm, her thumb running up and down your skin caused your hairs to stick up.

Rhea used her free hand to pick up a card that read ‘Tell your game partner a dirty secret.’ “I think my little secret will remain a secret until later,” She grinned.

“Now tell me why I can’t know now?” You pushed.

“I'll tell you later…I promise” Rhea offered. “Hmm, you gotta drink and tell me later.” You persuaded her, she shrugged before taking a sip of her wine.

You both took turns pulling seemingly simple yet flirty cards, you both had answered nearly every question. The drinks you both previously consumed had obviously built onto the tension the two of you had building over the past few months.

Rhea’s hand slid onto your thigh as she urged you to grab a black card. “Have a three minute kissing contest, the winner drinks.” You stuttered looking over at Rhea, the both of you staring into each other's eyes. Your breath hitched slightly, you weren't expecting the game to take a twist down this road. “I-I’m sorry, you can take a drink if you don't want to, no need to worry.” Rhea assured you.

“No, I want to.” You confessed quietly as you slowly straddled the buff woman. Rhea grinned, “You have no idea how fucked up I am over you,” Rhea whispered as you rested your forehead against hers.

“Fuck, what type of game have you gotten me into…” You muttered, your hands gripping on Rhea’s shoulders. Lust had taken control of the both of you. You weren't sure who dived into the other first, but the one thing you were sure about is how intoxicating that first taste of your closest friend was.

Messy kisses worked to sync together while Rhea’s hands explored your hips. Both of your tongues mashed together while light groans escaped the back of your throat when Rhea began grinding your hips against her lap. Your hands found their way tangled into Rhea’s hair as her tongue investigated your mouth.

Rhea’s lips traveled down from your jawline to your neck, her teeth bit down on your sensitive skin before pulling away licking her lips. You could tell Rhea had been waiting ages for this. “I think we both deserve a drink for that.” Rhea murmured after prying herself off of you.

Once you had both set your glasses down you reached over to grab Rhea a card. Rhea bit down on her lip before reading “Both you and your partner must remove a clothing item of the other's choice.” She paused for a moment, “Let’s get you out of those pants, pretty girl.” You obeyed and stood up from her lap, you let Rhea pull the waistband down and off your legs. Her hands caressing your legs for a few moments as she admired you.

You eagerly pulled the woman's shirt off before tossing it onto the opposite end of the sofa. “We have all night sweetheart, what are you in such a hurry for hm?” Rhea teased.

You bent over, grabbing your second black card that read ‘Go into another room and send a naughty selfie to your partner.” Protecting the card in your hand you let the woman know that you’ll be right back before hurrying off to her bathroom.

Once locked in the bathroom you slipped your hoodie and shirt off. You leaned against the wall posing and snapped a photo of your body in the mirror before sending it to Rhea. You added a text simply stating “Missing you in here. :(“

You knew your message had been seen when you heard a yell from the other room, “Get your ass back in here!” Rhea demanded. You decided to stay inside the bathroom, curious as to how she’d take it. “I know you heard me, I don’t like waiting.” The woman's voice approached.

Rhea had pulled her next card and slid it under the door. ‘Take your partner’s underwear off without using hands.’ was displayed. “You got two options, sweetheart. You could come out now and have some fun with me or you can stay in there and I’ll go to bed without you.” She threatened.

You reluctantly opened the door, Rhea caught you by surprise as she threw you over her shoulder. “Good choice.” She mumbled out.

“Now be a good girl for me and you’ll get what you need.” The woman warned you as she laid you back into the sofa. “I’ll be the best girl for you.” You promised as she kneeled in between your legs. Her lips smirked while kissing on your inner thighs, a thread of whimpers escaped from your throat. She began to bite and pull at your panties, using her hands to keep your legs open for her. As your panties fell to your ankles, Rhea’s finger struck a single swipe up your folds, causing you to yelp out. “Such a sweet girl…” Rhea stated, licking her finger.

A new card was handed to you as Rhea sat down. You flipped the card around to show the woman. ‘Grind on your partner's thigh for two minutes.’ It read. Rhea spread her legs apart as you settled yourself onto her left leg. ”Atta girl” She hummed. A moaned “Shit Rhea'' left your mouth once your bare core began rocking against the fabric of the woman’s jeans. The two of you connected your lips as you whimpered into Rhea’s mouth, her hands traveling around your back.

Rhea’s hands got to work unclasping your bra, sliding it down your shoulders, and discarding it.

“Such a wet girl for me,” Rhea pulled away from your lips as she muttered while your sweetness leaked through her jeans.

You both knew you were past the point of no return. You needed each other…and you needed each other fast.

You whimpered as Rhea pulled you up off her leg. “Shh, give me one second and I promise I’ll make you feel so good.” She reassured you while tugging off her jeans to reveal she had been packing the whole night. Rhea knew tonight was gonna be the night you finally screamed her name.

“Come sit on my cock baby.” Rhea murmured, helping you align your hips with hers. Your head fell back as you began sinking onto her. A whispered “Rhea,” came from your mouth as you settled at the bottom of her strap. You slowly rocked your hips back and forth as you let your walls adjust to her size.

As you began slowly bouncing up and down her you threw your head into Rhea’s shoulder. Your hands clinged to the woman’s biceps. “So big…Rhea” You whined out, your nails digging into Rhea’s skin.

“Fuck!” Rhea groaned under her breath. “Taking me like such a good girl.” She complimented while her hands guided your hips to bounce faster. Your hands lifted Rhea’s bra off her chest. Whimpers filled the room while your hips traveled up and down Rhea’s length.

“That’s it…so good.” Rhea quietly reassured you. She did not expect how sensitive you’d be, the smallest movements leaving you overwhelmed.

Tears formed in your eyes as Rhea’s hands held you down, forcing you to rock your hips against her. You moaned against the woman’s shoulder, your clit rubbing against the leather of her strap-on. “Feels so good doesn't it baby,” Rhea comforted.

Your teeth clamped down on her shoulder once her hands guided you to bounce on her length again. “I know princess,” was said before a kiss was planted on your forehead. “You’re doing so good for me.” Was whispered in your ear. A loud yelp came from you as Rhea’s hands striked down on your ass.

Rhea’s hands tightly gripped your ass leading your hips to rock forward and backward as you bounced on her. You rested your head against Rhea’s cheek, tears escaping your eyes. Your walls tightened around her as your cries turned to screams. “I need you to cum all over me baby.” Rhea urged you.

“Rhea!! Fuck!” You screeched as your orgasm peaked. “God!” You yelped. Rhea helped stabilize you once your legs began shaking eventually she let you sink onto her length after your legs gave out.

Rhea’s hands brought your face to match hers, planting a long kiss on your lips while your final tears fell from your eyes. “You were perfect.” She praised, wiping your tears. She let you move your head to rest on her shoulder as you let out a pitiful whimper. “Shhh…it's all okay baby.” She quieted her voice, her fingers tracing in your hair.

The woman let you rest on her as you occasionally delivered weak kisses to her neck. “I got you darling…you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hold you.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around you. After letting you rest a while she lifted your hips off her length, shushing you as you whined. She slipped off her strap before lifting you off the sofa. “We gotta get you in the bath, pretty girl.”

Your back laid against Rhea’s chest while you bathed together whispering sweet nothings. “Hey…what was that secret you were gonna tell me earlier?” Your question broke the comfortable silence.

Rhea laughed before admitting “That wasn’t a real weather alert earlier.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She had confused you.

“It’s some year old year old recording I found. I've been keeping an eye on the forecast and chose today as the perfect day. All I had to do was make sure it was playing before you got here.” Rhea grinned whilst coating your hair with conditioner.

You scoffed out. “And you think all that was easier than asking me on a date?” You teasingly asked. “Where’s the fun in all that?” Rhea quipped.

“You bought that game just for tonight, didn’t you?!” You interrogated Rhea. Her silence told you everything you needed to know. “You bought that game cause you were scared to make a move huh.” You accused.

“Woah hold on!” Rhea protested, “I was not scared, I just wanted to try something new.” She tried deflecting.

“You’re not fooling me Ripley, you’re a major softie. All clingy and jealous!” You teased. “I am not clingy at all!” Rhea fussed.

“Rhea, we are in the same tub and you are clinging onto me for dear life, what’s your excuse for that, hm?” Rhea tightened her grip on you more “I’m keeping you warm of course!” She chuckled.

You were absolutely right, Rhea was so infatuated with you she wouldn’t let you out of her sight until she had to go back to work a week and a half later. She went as far as trying to beg for you to be able to travel with her. Now that Rhea got to hold you, she never planned on letting go.

#rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley oneshot #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #rhea ripley smut #wwe smut

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suckerfordylansstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Not a date - Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin is certain you're dating someone. You, on the other hand, are not so sure.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: As you can see we're changing the style with this new post. You could consider this kind of a small prequel for "A date like no other", but mostly, I just wanted to write more of Dustin and Y/n's relationship (more will follow, inspiration has hit me). Plus, it was fun playing detective. Hope you enjoy! 💕

!This piece goes along my Steve Harrington series "New Journey", but can also be read as a standalone!

Timeline: After the winter dance, but before their first date.

“I have gathered you here today on an important issue.” Dustin was pacing around Mike's basement while all the rest of his friends followed him with their eyes “It is crucial that we take upon this matter with focus and determination. Not to mention stealthiness since a bit of spy work is going to occur.”

“Dustin, why are we here?” his dramatics had Max over the whole thing very quickly.

“It has come to my attention that my sister, my own blood, has been seeing someone behind my back and simultaneously lying to me about it.”

“And?” Lucas asked, not understanding his friend’s anger.

“What do you mean and? This is it!”

“You’re mad your sister has finally found someone?” Will was trying to understand Dustin’s motives.

“I’m mad she hasn’t told me about it. I mean, why would she do that? I certainly tell her everything.” his pacing hasn’t stopped from the moment he entered the basement.

“Maybe because she wants to focus on the new relationship and not on her little brother’s obnoxious opinions?” Max told him with a smile, making Dustin stop in his tracks.

“You’re new, you don’t get a say.” he pointed in her direction and continued his pattern on the floor.

“Dustin, what do you want us to do?” Mike sighed when he saw Dustin place large papers on top of a chair, opposite to them, a pen in his hand as he settled beside them. It reminded him of their teacher, and not in a good way.

“I want you to come with me and spy on her.” he removed his first blank paper, revealing a calendar with colorful dots on certain days “It all started a month ago. I realized she began going out a lot more than usual. I mean I love my sister, but let’s be honest, she doesn’t have many friends.” he pulled out another paper, this time a pie chart with all the colors they had previously seen on the calendar “So, I began tracking her behavior. When she would go out, when she would return, and try to figure out with whom. So far, I’ve noted 14 outings in the span of 29 days… She went out with Jonathan twice, once with Nancy, once with you, Max, and you, Eleven, for girl’s night. Three times with all of us and another three with me. That all makes 10. The other 4 are a mystery to me.” with each sentence, each ‘clue’, he was pointing the pen at every chart so the rest wouldn’t get lost

“When she hangs out with friends, I have noticed Y/n coming back at a decent hour, say around 10:30, at least 11:00. However, when she’s ‘on her own’ those hours defer.” the new paper showed the said hours with a big question mark at the end “I have caught her sneaking into the house well after 1:00 am! Clearly, she’s not out there on her own. But I haven’t been able to figure out with whom. I checked with both Nancy and Jonathan telling me that they had not seen her those specific days. She’s clearly with someone doing something, but when I ask her about what she did and where she went she outright lies to me, saying she was with Jonathan and/or Nancy.” he let the last paper fall flat on the chair, the pen rhythmically hitting his other palm “It is our mission to figure out who she is meeting on these days, so I can evaluate if I need to step in and help her.”

The kids all looked at one another, trying to see if they wanted in on this. His thinking could be correct, but the thought of him being wrong and giving them the chance to mess with him is what sealed the deal.

“Alright, we’re in.” Mike announced for all of them. Dustin’s face immediately lit up.

“But how do we know when their next meet-up is?” Lucas asked him.

“Already ahead of you my friend.” he began organizing the papers he had used, stacking them into his bag before putting it on “I overheard Y/n talk with my mother, saying she’s going out. Again, wouldn’t outright tell me with whom. So that’s why I came here, to find out if Nancy had any plans. As it turns out she did. But not with my sister, with Jonathan. Right?” his eyes fell on Will.

“Yeah, they are hanging out at ours.” Will confirmed Dustin’s words.

“Okay, so that excludes them from this ‘secret meet up’.” Max thought out loud.

“Precisely.” they were now getting out of the house from the basement’s door, making their way to their bikes.

“So… Where is she?” Eleven asked, her small voice was now loud enough for all to hear, turning their heads at once to look at Dustin.

Dustin wasn’t sure at the beginning where his sister would be. She had mentioned she would leave around 8:30. Now, he had left earlier to check on her small lie at the Wheeler’s, so their first stop was at his house to check if her car was still there. It was, which meant either of two things. She either walked to their meeting place (which was unlikely of her after everything that had happened to them, walking somewhere alone was a no-no for his sister). Or the person she was meeting picked her up. It left a lot of options open so he decided to head inside with the rest and look for more clues.

His mom greeted them, chatting a bit with the kids while Dustin looked around for any indication as to where she went. He noticed that her sneakers were missing, telling Dustin that they weren’t going somewhere fancy, so maybe their destination was the theater or maybe grabbing a bite somewhere.

“Hey, mom. I was thinking of eating the leftover pizza from last night after I come back. Y/n didn’t eat it, right?” he looked over at his mom, Tews on her lap as always.

“Oh, no, Dusty, she specifically said that she didn’t want to have anything since she’ll be going out to eat with her friends.”

Bingo.

Dustin excluded from the options list the diner where you used to work. Too many people knew you there and the secrecy wouldn’t last. So, they began roaming around the town trying to get a glimpse of you. They succeeded after a couple of tries. Lucas had caught a glimpse of your figure inside the burger place. You were sitting in a corner booth in the back of the store, your face bright, not only by the lights of the place but by your present company as well.

“Holy shit. Dustin was right.” Max climbed out of her bike, staring at the older sister of her new friend.

“Of course I was. Can you see who she is with?”

“No, his back is turned.” Lucas tried to wiggle around in an attempt to see who was with you. They couldn’t go

We’re gonna have to get inside.” Mike noted and Dustin agreed.

“Not all of us, we’ll draw attention. Will, you’re coming with me.” the said boy wasted no time and followed his friend toward the entryway.

“Why him?” Mike called out, annoyed he wasn’t getting in on the action.

“Because he’ll be quiet, unlike you.” Dustin whisper-yelled.

They get inside and make their way to the end of the front counter. When they peaked at the back, they had a clearer shot at the two figures. Dustin could clearly see your big, bright smile, but the guy you were with was sitting opposite of you, meaning they could only see his back

“We still can’t see his face.”

“Wait… I know that hair.” Dustin’s eyes squinted as he focused on the person in question. The waiter had approached them, his lips moving, probably asking them if everything was okay. It was then when the mysterious guy turned his head, making him visible to him, a relieved sigh falling from his lips “Oh, it’s just Steve.”

He and Will went outside without alerting you, joining the others once again.

“Okay, people, crisis averted. It was only Steve, just a friendly meet-up.” he announced to his friends before he grabbed his bike, ready to return home.

“Sure.” Max smirked his way, suddenly making a frown appear on Dustin’s face.

“Uh… Dustin? I don’t think this is very friend-like.” Mike was pointing to the restaurant. Dustin turned and met the horror. Steve had now switched his seat, joining you on your side. His arm was around your shoulders, your faces way too close for his liking. And then it happened. Steve kissed you.

Dustin was waiting for you to return back home. He was in the dark, his mother fast asleep, not realizing her own son was stewing hot. He was ready. Ready to tell you he knows your secret and ready to express his anger. He liked Steve, he didn’t like showing it, but he did. He was funny and honest with him, and a guy. He had a guy friend. Someone whom he could rely on when seeking advice. He knew he could come to you about everything, but sometimes he felt too embarrassed to say certain things. He was getting older, more ‘mature’ as his mother had said, and Steve had been through those things before, therefore could give him the advice he needed.

He liked Steve, but now he was afraid he was going to lose him… and you. You always wanted to be in a relationship and now that you were in one, you were going to spend all your time with each other, forgetting all about the party and mainly him. Or you would eventually break up and he would have to choose your side, his sister’s, and forcing him to say goodbye to his friend.

It all felt unacceptable to him, so he had to tell you about it.

Finally, he heard a car stop outside. After a couple of minutes, your keys were daggling as you opened the door. He watched you come inside, a lingering smile on your face as you took off your jacket and placed it on the hook beside the door. You were in the process of taking off your shoes when he decided to intervene.

“Hello, sister.”

He startled you, a small yelp coming from your lips as you squinted your eyes to see where your brother was hiding “Dustin? What are you doing in the dark? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he countered back, catching you by surprise

“What?”

“How was your night?”

“Oh… It was really fun actually, thanks for asking. But this still doesn’t answer my question as to what you’re still doing up.” your arms were now folded in front of your chest, thinking you had the upper hand here.

“Oh, I just had a simple question really. Who were you with?”

It took you a second to form your question, confusion rising inside you “What?”

“I was over at Mike’s today and I stumbled upon Nancy.” Dustin stood up from the armchair and walked closer to you as he explained “I asked her if she was on her way to come get you, but she told me she wasn’t meeting with you. She was actually going to meet up with Jonathan for a date at his place.”

“Oh…” was all that came from your lips.

“I know who you met tonight. I followed you and found out you are secretly dating Steve.” his finger was accusingly pointing at your figure. He didn’t know what reaction he was really expecting from you but it certainly wasn’t what you said next.

“I’m not dating him, Dustin.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not dating.” you shrugged your shoulders and sat down on the couch.

“But he kissed you. I saw it!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, okay? It’s all very confusing.” your head your resting on top of your palms. You looked defeated, confused, sad, a whole different side of you than the one he had seen at the restaurant. He slowly approached you, sitting next to you. You looked up and saw him looking at you, a silent invitation to explain “It all started after we dropped you off at the ball. We happened to dance a little and it ended in a kiss. After that, we’ve been hanging out as much as we could and, yes, I admit, some kissing has gone down, but I don’t know what we are.”

Dustin noted that your voice was small but your feeling big “Do you like him?”

You looked up and locked eyes with your brother. You hadn’t been able to tell no one this, and you had no idea how much it was eating at you to get it out before this conversation “Very much.”

“Then I’m certain it will all work out.”

And just like that Dustin had forgotten all about his speech. He could still remember the way you smiled at him, thanking him with a big hug. It was the same smile when you picked up the phone, a couple of days later, Steve’s name falling from your lips. It was a soft one, your focus entirely on the voice coming from the phone, from his friend. When you finally hung up, a small shriek sounded all around the room. After just a moment he found out you were excited, beyond excited because he had asked you out on a date.

“Didn’t you go on one like yesterday?” he had asked.

“This is the first time he uses the word date, Dustin. The first time!”

He secretly smiled at your antics, even if in front of you he called it gross. When you returned home after that so-called ‘first date’, bliss was written all over your face. The next day, you all were meeting with the party for a campaign, the first time you would include Steve in your game. The first time he would see you two together officially for the first time. It was funny seeing him make all the wrong decisions and getting himself killed in the first thirty minutes. It was hilarious seeing you and him bicker about what you should do next. Steve making it his business to judge you all based on your actions. And it was certainly sweet when he would cheer with you after a successful roll. It didn’t seem all that different to him; your behavior.

It was after the campaign when Steve was talking his ear off on the way to their house about what movie you should see at the next movie night with the kids, that it truly hit him. Nothing would change. You would still be his sister and Steve would still be his friend. It couldn’t be that bad. Especially, if he saw his sister so happy every day.

If you want to be tagged just ask!

Taglist: @bookscoffeandotherstuff @i-am-the-coffee-queen @bi-andready-tocry @enchantedcruelsummer @daddystevee @elite4cekalyma @hayadora @hannarudick @thecaptainsgingersnap @lookalivesunshine-x @sarasmismyonlydefence @astream-ofconsciousness @the-haikyuu-hoe @mileven-reddie @mochminnie @synonymforlame @teamkiall @samanthadegaro @the-passionate-freak @thesailbells @i-mmunity @marvelouspottering @mrs-diggory @mydarlingharry @beepbeephargrove @mikariell95 @sweetdreamsshifter @paninipress @anolddayslover @10minutesofscreentime @bookfrog242 @onecrazydirectioner @harrycanyonmoonn @grippleback-galaxy @doctorsgirl262 @mayonesavegana @inkpot-winters @le-who-zer-her @mysticgardenpolice @untitledarea @kahhorri

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fanfic #dustin henderson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you

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cuttergauthier · 10 months ago

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Fresh Start

Jack Hughes x Female Edwards Reader

Warning: cussing, fluff

word count: 1.0k

let me know what you guys think🤍

I was starting my last year of University, I used to go to the University of Michigan but after a bad break up I ended up transferring to Columbia University.

Columbia university is only a few minutes from Jersey, the team my brother was drafted by. My younger brother and I are pretty close, I could have stayed in Michigan and spent my last year with him there, but I needed a change, and to be somewhere I wouldn't run into my ex.

My brother will be in Jersey in a few years and I can't wait.

Since my brother started playing for the Michigan Wolverines he became close with his teammates, he’s pretty close to Luke Hughes, who was also drafted by the New Jersey Devils, now there roommates in Michigan, Luke playing in his last year before he joins his brother jack in Jersey who already plays for the devils.

Because both Luke and Ethan got to Michigan at the same time, along with a few others they stuck together, and are really close.

My brother introduced me to his teammates and I became friends with them, mostly the older ones. Now when I told the guys I was transferring to Columbia they were all sad but they understood why. Luke and Ethan both made it their mission to tell Jack, Luke’s brother to make sure he looks after me, they don’t think I know but it was pretty obvious.

Last summer when Ethan was invited to the Hughes Lake house, they also invited me, since according to Luke I became like a sister to him. That’s where I met Jack for the first time, Luke introduced us. Jack and I didn’t talk much that summer but I know for a fact that Ethan and Luke told him to look after me when I was at Columbia, I’m not stupid even tho both Ethan and Luke are younger than me, ever since my break up they’ve been protective.

Now I've been in Jersey for about a month and a half. University started a few weeks ago, Jack came by my apartment during my second day here, he said he wanted to show me around but I knew Luke told him.

Jack showed all the best places to go to in New York, he also introduced me to his teammates, they're all really nice and welcoming, so is Jack.

Ever since I got here, we’ve been spending a lot of time together when he doesn’t have practice and I’m not busy with homework.

Today is Wednesday. I had class from 8:30 to 10 a.m. This morning, Jack had the day off so he asked if I wanted to hang out after class and I agreed.

I just got back to my apartment. It's now 10:30 p.m. Jack said he’d be here at 11 a.m. so i went and changed out of my jeans and put on a pair of black Lululemon leggings so I could be more comfortable.

Once I was done I went and sat down on my couch, I turned on Netflix and put on the new season of Outer Banks so I could watch before he got here.

Thankfully I didn’t have any homework to do since I finished it last night. Ever since i’ve gotten close to jack i started to get feelings but there’s nothing i can do about it since i doubt he feels the same way. My brother will be his teammate in a couple of years and I also don’t want to make things weird between them.

At around 11:02 a.m. there was a knock on the door, I paused the show and went to open the door.

“Hey, this is for you” Jack greeted me smiling with an extra coffee in his hands, when I opened the door.

“Hey, come in and thank you, you didn’t have to get me a coffee” I replied smiling and taking the coffee from him, while opening the door wider so he could walk in, once he did I closed the door. Jack took off his shoes and we made our way to the living room.

“ it’s nothing, i know you had class this morning so i thought you might need one”

“I really did, so thank you”

“ What are we doing today?” He asked

“I have no clue, what do you want to do?” I said

“I was thinking maybe if it’s okay with you, i could take you on a date” he said looking at me waiting for my response. I was shocked. I didn't think he felt the same way.

“I’d love that” i said smiling softly

“Perfect, do you want to go after we're both done with our coffees?” He asked

“That’s perfect” i said nodding

“How have you been? How are your classes?”

“I’m good, my classes have been a bit stressful but it’s normal since it’s my senior year.”

“Makes sense, are you excited to be graduating in May?”

“Yes, I can't wait,” I said eagerly, making him chuckle.

“Jeez, it is that bad” he said sarcastically making me chuckle

“No, i’m just excited to be able to do what i love full time” i said smiling

“I’m glad”

“Are you ready to go out?” He asked once I took the last sip of coffee.

“Yeah, let’s go” i said smiling

We put on our shoes and jackets before making our way out of my apartment. I grabbed my hand and I looked at him smiling.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked curious

“It’s a surprise” he said smiling

Jack ended up taking me out to one of my favorite restaurants that he showed me when i first moved here, it was an amazing date, i had a lot of fun.

Now Jack dropped me off at home. He walked me up to my door.

“I had an amazing time tonight” I said, turning and looking at Jack who already had a smile on his face.

“Me too, any chance I can take you on another date soon?” He asked.

“I would love that” i said blushing

“Perfect,” he replied.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later, have a good night Yn” he said before leaving.

Once I made it in the apartment and closed the door I couldn't stop smiling.

Another date? I like the sound of that!!

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taahko · 9 months ago

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I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before

oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long

ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv

but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec

for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:

september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please

more talking points:

consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"

hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized

in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party

there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea

details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2

we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments

overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.

#shut up aggie #mash #might add more to this later

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onlyhereforthestories · 8 months ago

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Comeback Queen - Part 1 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Here you go! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it. Part 2 will be out tomorrow night! Also if you want to share your theories on where reader is going please send them my way. I’m interested to see what you guys think! 🫶

Months. That’s how long it had been since you had been in this position. Month and months and months. Months longer than it should have been too. Alexia had unfortunately had complications with her knee after coming back to playing the first time and this meant that she was side lined for a further few months.

During her time out on the side lines, you had picked up a knock yourself and was now part of the recovery squad. You hated the first month of your recovery purely because if you couldn’t be playing you want to be watching your love do what she does best, but that wasn’t possible either.

So, when Alexia went away with the Spanish squad and phoned you to say even though she wouldn’t be playing she is fit enough to sit on the bench, you knew it wouldn’t be long until that did happen.

You were proven right a couple weeks later. It was

You were sat in the stands with Mapi and a few of the other girls who had some sort of knock or injury, just behind the bench. Alexia had excitedly told you last night that Jona was planning on putting her on in the second half of todays match. This had excited you too as it meant you got to do your second favourite thing to do with football, watching her play. Of course, this was slightly behind playing yourself but that isn’t possible right now.

The first half flew by and with Salma’s hattrick Barca was already cruising towards the win, something that meant slightly less pressure on your loves shoulders when she did come on which you knew would help even if she didn’t really think about it. Alexia had gone through a pretty extensive warm up during the half time break so you had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long until you saw her enter the field. You didn’t leave your seat like the others wanting to make sure you caught every ball touch the woman had. She had just run back down the tunnel to catch the last bit of the half time team talk and probably give her own little captains speech with Irene.

The next time you caught her moving was in the 60th minute. She was up on the side lines in her kit, bib over the top to warm up quickly but you knew it wouldn’t be long until she was out on the pitch and the rest of the stadium could tell too. Not even a minute later and she was lined up with .. and .. ready for her much awaited and eagerly anticipated return.

She got given the captains armband and received a loud round of applause as she ran on, you made sure to whoop and cheer as loud as you could. Determined to show your support for your lover.

Alexia had been on the pitch for barely 10 minutes when the ball was crossed into Lucy at the back post, you held your breath as the ball bounced off her and into the middle of the box where your favourite number 11 was waiting. She didn’t catch the shot as cleanly as you knew she would have wished to, but it didn’t matter as it nestled into the bottom right corner.

You were up in a flash jumping with the other injured players as much as physically possible for you all. Of course she was in the right place at the right time, she had been studying tapes her whole life pretty much. She just knew the game and now even more than ever possibly, she knew her team.

The rest of the game went on and even though the opposition scored it didn’t dull the buzz around the stadium, the return of Frido last game and now Ale today just had set the right feeling within the club. Now all that was left was you and Mapi.

Speaking of, Mapi was dragging you by the hand down to the pitch where you greeted Ingrid when she approached, you chatted with them as well as Keira and Aitana for a while, but your eyes never drifted far from Alexia as she made her way round the fans. You were always in awe of how she interacted with them no matter the occasion, she always had time to sign things and take photos.

She had made her way around all the fans she could today and was about to head down the tunnel when she spotted you. Her eyes met yours and you could see the joy in them as soon as they did, the smile widening on her lips to match. She changed direction and headed towards where you were stood with the other women.

As she got closer you excused yourself from the conversation around dinner and made a beeline for her. You instantly wrapped your arms around her and held on with all you had, her arms wrapping around your waist and holding you firmly but not tight. “I’m so proud of you, mi vida. A goal too right away, only you could do that.” She gave you a little extra squeeze before pulling back.

“Had someone to score for didn’t I.” You grinned in her direction and went to reply when Pina jumped into the conversation from behind you both.

“You always score for y/n can’t you dedicate it to someone else for once.” You exchanged a look with your wife at this, you could see the smirk rising on her face, but you gave her a warning look. As much as you loved Claudia you knew she had a big mouth and what you had to share should only come from the two of you, being as it affected those you play with or did play with.

“What can I say, when you love someone this much it’s easy to dedicate a goal to them.” This caused a smile to rise to your face.

Pina walked away with a slightly disturbed look on her face, one that you knew was due to her distaste for the lovey stuff she had just heard from her captain. “You are capi mush when y/n is around.” Was a comment thrown over her shoulder as she walked away, a comment that had your girlfriend giving you a quick peck to the lips before she was off running after her. Causing the young Spaniard to squeal and bolt off in her counterpart Patri’s direction, you wife hot on her heels.

You giggled at their antics and met back up with Mapi to go out to the car, you had picked the couple up today and would be dropping them home on your way back to yours and Alexia’s place.

Mapi and Ingrid had just departed the car with the promise to be ready for when you are due to pick them up later to car share to dinner. Alexia was staring out the passenger side window obviously deep in thought because her eyebrows had the cute crinkle in them, they always had when the gears in her head were working overtime.

“What’s going on in the beautiful mind of your babe?” When she didn’t reply you got a little concerned, Alexia was not normally that far in her head that she couldn’t even hear you. To gain her attention you gently rested your hand on her thigh which caused her to jump slightly. “Lo siento I didn’t mean to make you jump, are you okay?”

Alexia grabbed the hand on her thigh and laced your fingers together and gave your hand a squeeze, “Si no sorry I’m okay just thinking.” This caused you to chuckle slightly which meant you got a confused look from the woman riding shotgun.

“I know you are thinking gupa, that’s why I put my hand on you to get your attention. I asked you what was going on in that beautiful head of yours and you were too far gone.” You squeezed the hand in yours a couple time to give her some comfort.

“I think we should tell them.” She was looking directly at you now and you knew this had been playing on her mind longer than just this car journey. You gave her hand another squeeze before you replied.

“I think we should soon too, but not today. Today is about you amor, I don’t want anything to take away from us celebrating that, you. But yes, I do think soon we need to too.” Alexia was nodding away in the passenger seat as you spoke and gave you a smile as she gripped your hand in 3 successive squeezes, a gesture you knew meant she loved you.

The rest of the journey home was spent talking about how you were going to share your news, you were still not sure how some of the girls would take your departure from the squad.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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