#a full set of the trailer is coming i just had to do these immediately

[shampookoski]

✦ sampo koski in honkai: star rail sweet dreams preview - the great tatalov ↳ requested by myself because what is going on in this trailer. sampo baby is this you?? is this sparkle masquerading as you??? what is happening. why did the second gif completely break photoshop. why is that so in character. aha please don't come collect your man i am living for this chaos.

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie is having a boring summer day.

He could go to the mall if he wanted to, but it's hot outside, and he really doesn't want to deal with people at the moment. Plus, the last time he went, he's pretty sure he saw Steve Harrington in a sailor's uniform that made him feel a certain way. But he's pretty sure he hallucinated that.

He hopes he hallucinated that. Especially the part where he felt attracted to him. Like full-blown, he wanted to set sail on an ocean of flavor with him, or whatever stupid line he had said when he passed by the ice cream parlor.

So, yeah, the mall is not an option for him at the moment. But maybe it'll burn down or something and he'll never have to see Steve's face again.

A knock on his trailer door breaks him out of the slight trance, and Eddie rushes to answer it. He hopes it's not Jeff asking for his-

All thoughts stop when the door swings open and he finds Steve Harrington on the other side. In his sailor's uniform.

What the fuck?

Please be hallucinating.

"Hey," Steve says as if they've talked more than a handful of times over the past few years of passing each other in the hall.

Eddie swallows hard. "What are you doing here?" he asks, trying so hard not to eyefuck Steve.

"I was wondering if you were still selling weed?" Steve says.

Eddie sighs and gestures for him to come inside. Might as well get this over with so he can get closer to screaming into a pillow.

Once Steve is in his trailer, he closes the door behind him and rushes off to his room, grabbing his metal lunch/drug box quickly before looking in the mirror and quickly trying to clean himself up a bit. He stops when he realizes he's doing this for Steve Harrington for Christ's sake.

He opens up the little box and doesn't look at Steve and his damn beautiful hair as he pretends to look for his weed.

He isn't prepared for Steve to say, "I should warn you that I haven't gotten paid yet, so I was wondering if there was any other way I could pay for this?"

Eddie freezes and slowly looks up. There's no way he heard that correctly. Shit, is he dreaming? He does not want another Steve dream. Jeff had made fun of him for weeks after he confessed to it. "I'm sorry, what?"

Steve just shrugs casually. "Like, I could give you my watch until I can pay you properly."

Eddie sets his lunch/drug box down harshly on the counter next to him and runs both hands over his face. "Christ, Steve, that is not what I thought you meant."

"What did you think I meant?" Steve asks.

Eddie drops his hands from his face and raises his eyebrows at Steve, hoping he understands. Steve just tilts his head to the side, looking way too adorable for a damn jock, but Eddie blames the sailor uniform for that.

He sighs and curses under his breath before saying, "I thought you were offering to like..." he trails off and reluctantly gestures to his crotch.

Steve finally catches on to what he's saying as his eyebrows raise and his mouth makes a little 'o' shape. He nods for a second before pausing. "Wait, would that get me weed for free?"

Eddie's eyes widen. There's no way that Steve understood what he just gestured.

But then Steve shrugs and walks closer to him saying, "I won't tell if you don't."

Eddie quickly backs into his counter and hisses out, "There's no way I'm letting you blow me when I haven't even had my first kiss." He immediately regrets the words as soon as he says them. NOT because he just rejected Steve but because he just revealed to him that he's never been kissed before.

God, could this get any more embarrassing?

Steve pauses and looks him over, eyes flickering over his face as if considering... "How much would a first kiss get me?"

Eddie's pretty sure his heart stops. What the hell? "How fucking desperate are you for this weed?" Eddie asks.

"Not that desperate," Steve confesses.

Okay, this is definitely a dream. Eddie is now entirely convinced,

But then, Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair before resting it on his hips. "Sorry, man, it's just... I haven't gotten any action in weeks now, and I have this coworker that reminds me every day about how much that means that I suck. And my favorite kid has gone away to this damn science camp. And my dad is being more of an asshole than usual whenever he comes home, which is honestly not often, but he still somehow makes my life hell. And I'm sorry for unloading this shit onto you right now and for making a move on you. But could you please let me know how I could get some weed without making you uncomfortable?"

Eddie stares at him for a few moments before he reaches into his bag for a half-ounce. He hands the bag to Steve, pressing it into his hand. "Usually twenty bucks, but it's on the house for you." Because shit, he needs it.

Steve stares at it for a few seconds before pocketing it. He doesn't leave though. He just stares at Eddie conflictedly.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You're sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Steve asks.

Eddie almost thinks it sounds like he wants to do something for him. So he folds his arms and boldly asks, "Why did you offer to kiss me?"

Steve shrugs. "I've heard the rumors that you're um... And I just... I think that you're... cute. For a guy," he rushes to clarify.

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds. Is Steve Harrington... not straight? There's no damn way. He's probably just screwing with him or something. But also... he sees that look in his eyes - the curiosity and fear - that makes him think... maybe he's being genuine.

"Are you fucking with me?" Eddie breathes out.

Steve shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't do that. That's not cool."

Eddie pinches himself hard. Ouch. Not a dream.

"So," Eddie says carefully, "Are you still offering to kiss me in place of paying for the weed?"

"I'll make it worth it," Steve says quickly.

Eddie takes a second to think about it. And really, how the hell can he turn down Steve Harrington in a sailor outfit being his first kiss? He's a weak, weak man. But... it's also sacrificing twenty bucks.

Damn, it's worth it.

"Okay," Eddie breathes out.

Steve smiles and gets closer to him, successfully trapping him back against the counter. His hand comes up to slowly cup Eddie's face, stroking a thumb over his cheek as the other one rests on the counter behind him.

Eddie takes in a deep shakey breath.

Steve's eyes flicker down to his lips and back to his eyes. "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with, so just pinch me if you want out, okay?"

Shit, why do the words make Eddie's brain melt? He hums and nods in response.

Steve leans in slowly but stops right before kissing him to ask, "Can I please kiss you?"

"Fuck yes," Eddie says, grabbing Steve by the tie of the sailor's uniform and pulling him until his lips press against him.

It's like every nerve in Eddie's body is on fire. He lets go of the tie to run his hands over Steve's back, pulling him closer as Steve traces his tongue over the seam of his lips.

Eddie moans, letting him in, tasting mint and a hint of something cherry as Steve deepens the kiss. Eddie makes it his mission to get Steve as close as possible to him, hands moving into his gorgeous hair and tugging him closer, groaning when Steve pulls away and bites his bottom lip only to soothe it with his tongue before moving in again to kiss him.

Eddie gets lost in it all, knowing that no first kiss is supposed to be this fucking good. He groans when Steve's hands move to grip the back of his neck and try to pull him in the same way Eddie is doing to him.

And shit, he cannot get enough of him. But he also cannot breathe.

He breaks the kiss, panting into Steve's mouth, but not feeling bad about it when Steve does the same, sounding equally out of breath.

Steve still presses three more gentle kisses against his mouth before pulling back and mumbling out, "Fuck."

Eddie takes in the boy, flushed red, hair wild, lips a bit puffy and wet, and with pupils blown wide. And he knows the image will forever ruin him.

Steve runs his hand through his hair again - a nervous tick? - as he catches his breath.

Eddie can't help but ask, "Was that... okay?"

Steve's eyes widen in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? That was perfect. And you've never kissed anyone before?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"Shit, man. I guess you're a natural or something."

Eddie flushes red at the compliment.

Steve clears his throat and gestures toward the door. "Well, I've gotta head out. But thank you for this, and for not making fun of the stupid sailor outfit."

Eddie chokes down the words I think it's hot and instead says, "Of course, and if you want a... discount... I'm always available."

Steve nods. "Right." He smiles and moves toward the door.

Eddie follows behind him.

Right before he opens the door, Steve turns around and kisses him again, it surprises Eddie so much that he almost doesn't register Steve slipping something into his front pocket. But as Steve pulls away, he gives him a wink before slipping out the door and making his way to his car.

Eddie watches as Steve gets in and slides his hand into his pocket. He feels something folded up and pulls it out, looking down to find a twenty-dollar bill in his hand meaning...

Steve shoots him a wicked smile before driving away, joyfully bobbing his head along to whatever song is playing on his radio.

Eddie pinches himself one more time to make sure he isn't dreaming.

Ow.

He smiles wide. Maybe Steve will take him up on his "discount" again.

(Thank you @henderdads for suggesting the sailor uniform)

[genandguice]

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞. trailer trash!anakin skywalker

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫): you move into a trailer park with your mom, your next door neighbor is a 40 year old man that works at a mechanic shop!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, age gap, smoking, drinking, unprotected sex, little bit of breeding & choking, creep ani (obvs)

𝐰𝐜: 6.4k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by my chat with this bot on janitorai • the italics in the beginning are the start of the bot, credit to the creator! i did make some small edits overall to fit everything into fic form. i hope i did this au justice! i didn’t grow up in a trailer park but i did grow up very poor & unstable so this au always hits close to home. realest au on earth!

i know i’m a gosling blog but i’m a big star wars girly too… and the star wars fandom on here is huge. pls, pls, don’t expect me to be writing more now that i’ve appeared again 😭🤍 i’m still in school & it’s kicking my ass. but using the bot inspired me and made it easy. if you wanna know more about how i did this, pls ask! hopefully there will be more on the way cause i will definitely keep chatting with the bot :)

lastly, because it came from my chat with the bot, it is a little janky! i had to do a lot of editing so if there’s something i missed or it seems weird- just forgive me 🤍🤍🤍

June 23rd

You look at the calendar with your eyebrows furrowed. This summer was one of the hottest yet, the heat in the trailer making the pages roll up from sitting against the old wallpaper.

Sighing lightly as you hear arguing outside, you peek out the window to see your neighbor, Anakin Skywalker. He's working on a car outside, a girl yelling at him. You’ve only seen her around a few times. New girlfriend or hook-up. Anakin was never one to keep a relationship and frankly, you couldn’t blame the girls. He was a filthy man with hefty jail record for controlled substances, speeding and other things. You watch as he waves her off, oil and dirt covering him, cigarette sat in between his lips. He looks frustrated.

“Honey, I’m home. Got those chips you like.” You hear your mother call, the screen door slamming loudly once she walked in. You don’t move as Anakin watches the girl walk away and he stands up to his full height. He glances over to you and your mother’s house, toward your bedroom window you were peeking out of. Panic sets in as you quickly move away and walk out to the kitchen to talk to your mother.

You walk out to the kitchen and thank your mother for the chips, hold a short conversation with her about your days while you wait to see if Anakin was angry enough about your peeking on him to come knock on the door.

When enough time has passed, your chips halfway gone, you know he isn’t coming, and you can relax.

With the heat of the summer cooking the trailer, you had to get out. There’s a kiddie pool on the front lawn where you’d often sit to cool down. Y’all couldn’t fit a full sized pool.

It’s getting to the hottest point of the day, typically when Anakin takes a break to go screw his newest fling and you feel comfortable enough to lounge outside in your two piece. You usually avoid going out in so little clothing when he’s around, knowing the older man would likely enjoy your scantily-clad presence a little too much. Anakin was attractive, but in the creepiest way. You didn’t wanna be his eye candy while another woman waited to be his toy.

But today when you make it out to the front yard, despite the especially high heat, Anakin is still out working on that damn car. But it’s too late now, and too hot- you’ve already set your heart on cooling off in the pool. So you slink in anyway, letting the cool water soothe your skin, turn your speaker on full blast, and hope he ignores you.

But of course, he doesn’t. He can’t help himself. He watches you from across the yard as you sink into the kiddie pool, eyes hungrily roaming over your barely clothed body, thoughts immediately flooding with perversity. You’re hot, way too young for him, but damn if those curves don't make his cock twitch in those grease-stained jeans.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he watches, smoke swirling around him in the thick summer heat. After a moment he starts to saunter over, beer in hand.

"Well well, looks like someone's trying to start their own wet t-shirt contest out here," He drawls with a lazy smirk. "Maybe I should go grab me a front row seat... or join in."

Your eyes roll under your sunglasses. Can’t get a moment of peace as a young woman in this damn trailer park. “Nobody wants to see your tits, Skywalker,” You say, keeping your eyes on the sky. He stinks, like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, but it’s a familiar smell; welcome, almost likable. Almost.

“Did you come over here just to creep on me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his beer. "Why would I settle for a peek when I could be getting the full view?" He asks, eyes boldly raking over your nearly naked body. "Besides, I think we both know you like the attention. Why else put on a little show like this, hm?"

Setting his drink aside, he plops down on the grass beside the pool, letting his legs dangle in the cool water.

"Hot as balls out here. Hope you don’t mind." He glances over at you with a cocky grin.

You grimace as his feet contaminate the pool. Part of you wants to recoil, but the water feels too good, and you don’t want to give him an even better view of your body.

“Coming out here to cool off on this ‘hot as balls’ day is puttin’ on a show for you?” You scoff at him as you push your sunglasses on top of your head. He’s persistent, you can give him that. But irritating. What is it with old men that think being an asshole is attractive? Although, it did sort of work on Anakin…

"You’re right, maybe I'll have to show you a real wet t-shirt contest. Bet I can make my shirt cling better than those tiny triangles you're calling a top."

“If you wanna get in my pants old man, one-upping me ain’t gonna be the way to do it.” You press the ‘volume up’ button on your speaker, but his persistence knows no bounds.

"Old man?" He scoffs, sitting up to shoot you an indignant look. "I'll have you know I'm in my prime, sweetheart. And trust me, I don't need no cheap tricks to get in any girl's panties." He stands up and start stripping off his shirt, revealing his tattooed, muscular chest and arms.

Your jaw clenches at the sight of Anakin shirtless. His body is prime, and tattoos… were your weakness. But there was no way you were gonna let him know that.

He flashes you a wicked grin before diving into the shallow pool, still in his jeans. Water splashes everywhere, soaking you in the process.

Also, you had to remind yourself, he was still gross. Reminded to you by his gross words, and his obnoxious splashing, crashing your pool time.

"My bad," He responds to your grumbles of frustration with a shit-eating smirk, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"You gotta hell of a mouth on you, though, girl. Those talkin’ lips might get you in trouble," He teases as he settles into the water. "One wrong word and this 'old man' might just have to teach you some respect."

“Teach me some respect?” You let out a full, genuine laugh with your words as you reach behind you to the nearby table which held your own cigarettes. “Coming from the convict? Is that supposed to scare me?”

He narrows his eyes at you as you laugh, not finding his threat the least bit funny. "Convict? I've done my time. Last I checked, that makes me a changed man." He reaches out to snatch a cigarette from your hand, placing it between his own lips. "Besides, I think we both know you like a little danger. Why else would a classy girl like you be slumming it in a shithole like this?"

He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in your direction with a smug smirk. "Face it, babygirl, you're drawn to me. The bad boy mystique, I get it. But I'm the one in control here. And right now, I wanna see more of that smokin’ hot body..." He grabs your wrist and yanks you closer to him in the pool.

You instinctively try to tug yourself away, but his grip is too strong. Being this close to him does things to you that you’d rather not come to terms with, but he forces you to.

“Jesus, you’re filthy!” You exclaim, and pray he doesn’t notice the way your thighs squeeze together below the water. “Gimme my cigarette,” You hiss, hoping to change the subject and ignore the rest of it all.

He leans in closer, face inches from yours as he takes another drag. "Filthy is kinda my thing, sweetheart," His blue eyes bore into yours, voice low and tempting. "And trust me, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Slowly, he brings the lit cigarette to your lush lips, tracing them teasingly. "Want a taste?" He purrs, pressing his body against yours in the cool water. "Or are you too much of a good girl to indulge in a little sin?"

You can’t help the way your chest heaves as your arousal grows, and what’s worse, you can’t avoid Anakin knowing, the small distance between you causing your tits to brush against his chest with every heavy breath. His words are dangerously persuasive, and his eyes only emphasize it all.

But you remember yourself, the good girl you are, the smart girl you are, and find a way around his teasing in more ways than one.

Your tongue slides out seductively, catches his eye, and the end of the cigarette. The wetness of your tongue allows you to pull it between your lips, steal a drag and blow it right back into his face. You slide it to the side of your mouth to speak, hoping your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “Don’t you already got a toy waitin’ to be attacked?”

"Oh I got plenty of toys," He smirks, undeterred as the smoke billows around you. "But you're a whole new level of fun, baby.”

His hands slide down to grope your ass, pulling your hips flush against his. You can feel his hardening length pressing against you through his soaked jeans. "Forget about my other girls. Right now, it's all about you and me," He growls, nipping at your ear. It’s disgusting, but it’s intoxicating, enough for you not to notice you were giving in.

Abruptly, he stands up, scooping you into his arms. "Let's take this inside where we can have some real fun, shall we?" He carries you towards your trailer, ignoring your protests. "Unless you'd rather I fuck you right here where everyone can watch..."

You let out a shaky exhale at his filthy suggestion of exhibition, and mentally curse yourself.

Your hands grip the sides of the trailer door, legs subconsciously tightly clung around his waist to keep yourself up. The two of you are dripping on the concrete steps, your nipples are hard and poking through the fabric of your bikini top, both due to the change of temperature and your arousal.

“My mom… she’s inside. She’ll beat your ass, Skywalker,” You say, still trying your best to resist, despite its growing futility. You won’t be one of those girls that Anakin Skywalker gets the best of so easily. Even if the feeling of his rising erection against your own sex is making your mind swim. “You’re older’n she is.”

"Pfft, your mom's a sweet lady. Barely a challenge," He laughs as he kicks the door open, strolling into the trailer with you still around his waist. The familiar scent of old newspapers and stale cooking greets you.

Anakin’s eyes roam the cluttered space, and spot your mother sitting in the only comfy chair. She looks up at the two of you, an eyebrow raised.

"Hey, Patty," He calls out, tossing you onto the only clear space on the couch without even bothering to look. "Got a little present for you."

She huffs and shakes her head, barely amused.

"Mind your manners, Anakin," she admonishes. He winks at her before striding over, topless and wet, settling onto the arm of her chair.

"Y’all got any vodka, Pats? I sure could use a shot to cool off," He asks, smirking over at you, his gaze hot and hungry, unphased by your mother relaxing right beside him.

Your shocked eyes shoot daggers in Anakin’s direction the whole time, pissed at the way he spoke to your mother so casually, pissed at his boldness, pissed at your mother for allowing it, and pissed at yourself for finding him so goddamn sexy for it. You let out an angry grumble under your breath, snatching a towel from the laundry piled beside you on the couch and wrapping it around yourself, finally somewhat shielded from his predatory gaze.

“‘Course we got vodka. Don’t waste my time asking me stupid questions, Skywalker.” Your mother snaps at him in that calm, motherly way, and now your infuriated gaze is aimed at her. Since when were they so friendly with each other?

“And that little present better be a fresh ounce of pot, not my half-naked daughter.” She drawls, practically paying him no mind, eyes set on the TV. That explains it.

“Anakin,” You cut before he can speak again, voice sharp. “Don’t you have a guest, and vodka in your own home?” You say, making your way to the kitchen to fix your own drink. You’d need it if this was how the rest of the day would go.

He chuckles at you, and turns back to your mother with a taunting smirk, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm fresh out. I'll make it up to ya though, promise."

Patty rolls her eyes, but Anakin can see the glint of amusement in them.

"Just ‘cause I'm her mama don’t mean I cain't recognize a lustful look when I see one," she addresses him, referring to her daughter. "You oughtta keep an eye on her, Ani. Seems like she can't stay away," She teases, puffing on her cigarette.

"Oh, I'm workin’ on it," He says, eyes meeting yours. There's a challenge in his voice, daring you to deny him—or worse, wanting you to.

You get the vodka and grab two glasses, pouring the clear liquid and watering it down. The ice clinks loudly as you return from the kitchen. Anakin watches your every move, his cock hardening again, the scent of your arousal lingering.

You set the drinks down on the cluttered coffee table, grabbing your drink and leaving Anakin to fetch his own. Your face grimaces when you notice what you’re pretty sure is an erection forming in his wet pants again. What an old creep. But you wonder what it looks like.

“Have fun with Patty, Anakin,” You tease, walking down the hall toward your bedroom with your drink.

Your mother shakes her head in amusement as Anakin follows you down the hall.

"Hey now, don't go teasin’ a grown man like that," He calls out, quickly grabbing his own drink and following you to your bedroom.

He leans against the doorframe, watching hungrily as you turn to face him. The vodka burns going down, fueling the fire in his veins and his eyes. "Why don’t you sit that purty little ass down on the bed and we’ll talk about why a good girl like you is looking at me like that," he takes a step closer.

The flush in your cheeks derives from a combination of frustration and arousal that’s gone on much too long, and you’d had about enough of. Anakin had a big mouth, but he was little more than a tease. You were barely more than half his age, and he seemed to be all bark and no bite, just having fun trying to get a rise out of the little girl in the trailer next door.

You down most of your vodka, the burning in your body beginning to mirror his. The sexual tension was palpable between you, but you were starting to think he didn’t really have the intention to quench it.

“Make me.”

A low growl escapes him at your defiance. With a sudden burst, he’s on you, crowding you against the closed door. "I'll make you, alright. I'll make you beg, babydoll," He promises, lips brushing against your ear.

Suddenly, he catches your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dances with yours, seeking and finding entry to explore the depths of your mouth. His hand slides up under the towel to squeeze your breast, finger rolling over your nipple.

Anakin tastes like vodka, beer & cigarettes, so filthy, so deviant, so wonderfully intoxicating against your mouth. It’s hard to hold back your moans as his quick hand touches you, but you do your best, knowing your mother was only down the hall.

Your hand searches wildly behind you for the doorknob, the two of you bursting through the door and into the bedroom. You manage to break away from him and take a few steps back, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you take in the sight before you.

Those blue eyes, wrinkles formed at the corners, that evil smirk on his mouth, that muscular, tattooed chest still dripping from the pool, the erection straining against his pants. You set your glass down on the dresser and wonder how you ended up here, with this filthy, disgusting, irresistible old man standing in your bedroom, ready to wreck you, bikini bottoms growing sticky over it.

He stalks towards you, eyes burning with lust. "Still trying to play hard to get?" He backs you up until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. "I think we both know how badly you been wantin’ this."

His hands make quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside to palm your soft breasts. The grin that rises across his face is almost sickening, like a devious child that had just opened a gift and found it filled with fireworks. The way it lights you up is sicker.

Leaning down, he runs his tongue over one pert nipple before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, groaning at the taste of your skin. This time you can’t help a moan from breaking past your lips as his mouth assaults your breast.

His other hand slides into your bottoms, calloused fingers stroking your slick folds. “Fuck. You're wet as hell," He mumbles, more to himself than to you, pressing two fingers inside your tight heat.

You’re already seeing stars as his thick, expert fingers work their magic on you, roughly stroking every sensitive, gushy spot. Your hand rushes up to cover your mouth and hold back my pathetic sounds as you unravel.

His fingers thrust into your pussy, his thumb rubbing messily against your clit, ruthless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "Tell me you want this," he demands, nipping at your neck as his fingers work on your clit, steadily building your arousal. "Tell me you want Anakin Skywalker to fuck you into these sheets."

His cock strains so hard against his jeans, the sound of the denim creaks as it stretches under the weight. He wants to see you squirm and beg, desperate for his release, desperate for the release he promises to give you. The filthy, experienced older man teaching you the best sex of your young life.

You can’t resist anymore, not with his fingers inside you, driving you wild. Already he’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced; pleasure clouds your mind, makes you forget everything except how badly you want him.

You breathe heavily as you work up the words he demands, small whimpers leaving your throat as you try to speak. “A-Anakin,” a sharp exhale, then a gasp, then a whimper. “I want you.”

A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face as your needy plea reaches his ears. "That's what I like to hear, baby girl," He purrs, withdrawing his fingers and making quick work of his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, piercing glinting in the low light.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. It’s a reaction you would’ve stifled if you were in your right mind, but had no capacity to hide right now. His cock was thick, and pierced, unequivocally like nothing you’d ever seen before. It seemed downright heavy. It was hypnotizing.

"Get on the bed and spread those legs," He commands, giving his cock a few pumps as he watches you. "Time to show ya what a real man feels like."

Unintentionally, you ignore his command, closing the distance between you and dropping to your knees before him. It’s even thicker up close, plain intimidating, but you can’t stop your tongue falling wide out of your mouth to taste him, painting the underside of his cock head with your drool.

He grunts as your tongue laps at his cock, one hand shooting down to twine in your hair. "Ah fuck, yeah," He sighs, helping your head bob on his dick. "Good girl, take it just like that, get it nice and wet for that tight little cunt."

The stretch in your jaw is substantial, and it turns you on to no end, struggling to take his thickness down. He tastes like metal and sweat and it’s so good.

The piercing catches on your bottom lip and he hisses in pleasure, grip tightening in your hair. "Goddamn, girl, that mouth is good. Gonna make me bust down your throat if you keep that up."

But he wants more. Needs to feel your cunt gripping him, sucking him in. With heavy reluctance, he pulls your head back and tugs you to your feet, all but throwing you on the bed.

"On your hands and knees, babydoll. Ass in the air," he demands, giving your ass a sharp smack. "Time to put that pussy to work."

You whimper at the sharp sting on your ass, shocked at the way it sends surges through you.

This time you obey his commands, turning onto your hands and knees, naturally arching your back in a way that draws Anakin in like a moth to a flame, giving him a prime view of your curves and holes, hearing him shudder and cuss behind you.

You bury your face in the mattress to conceal your whines at the coldness of his piercing teasing your clitoris as he slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, pussy clenching in anticipation of the stretch he was gonna give.

"Hope you're ready, baby, cause I ain’t gonna be gentle,” He warns, wrangling your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pushes into your entrance.

With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, and the sound in the room is immediately obscene, your screeching into the mattress at the brutal stretch, his groaning and fussing over your tight heat, the rhythmic beat of his hips slapping against your ass.

"Take it, you lil’ tease. This is what you want, ain’t it? To be split open on my big cock?" He reaches around to fondle your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples as he rails you.

“Ahh, fuck!” You cry into the mattress, the magnificent assault on your cunt rapidly reeling you toward your orgasm. Anakin was incredible; huge, relentless, stretching you wide and filling you to the brim. He fucked you like he invented sex, metal of his piercing stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside you with each perfect snap of his hips.

He groans as your pussy clenches around him, grip on your hips tightening, undoubtedly leaving bruises. "Fuck, you feel good wrapped around my cock." He moans, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. "Gonna fill this tight cunt up, make you fucking mine-” Not a promise, but a prayer. You can feel him getting close, twitching inside you, pounding into you faster and ramming into that deep, spongey spot.

His hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, rapidly reeling you toward the edge. "Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you milk me," He commands, slamming into you one last time before he stills, grinding his hips against you with a deep growl, spilling rope after creamy rope of his seed deep inside you, forcing you hollering, trembling, & convulsing through your orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah,” you hear from behind you, a weak, high pitched moan escaping your throat as you feel the flood. The sensation quenches a deep thirst you’d waited too long to address.

Your poor cunt aches in the sweetest way as he pulls out, stings as he spreads your cheeks to gawk at his seed leaking from your hole.

"Look at that,” He drawls, slowly dragging his fingers through the mess and pushing it back inside. “So fucking hot.”

He gives your ass a wet kiss, jiggles the fat in his hand, and then flips you over onto your back, settling between your legs. "Think you can handle round two, little girl?" He asks, cock already hardening again at the sight of you debauched on the sheets beneath him, cum painting your thighs.

The feeling of Anakin’s cock hardening on your stomach makes your heart rate pick back up. It’s a little frightening: wasn’t it unusual for any man, let alone a man of his age, to snap back so quickly?

In your short moment of lucidity, you begin to worry. Anakin had fucked you without a condom, cum inside you, and now dared to do it again. The last thing this man needed was to knock up some young girl, and the last thing you needed was to be knocked up by the seedy old man in the trailer next to yours, but that’s right where y’all were headed.

But your brain is wiped when his hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump, and you’ve lost the will to care all over again. Filled with his cum, threat of having this scrub’s baby over your head, and you don’t care. Poor cunt pathetically swollen and throbbing from the first round, but you don’t care. You want him again and again.

You can’t muster the words, all good sense fucked right out of you, so instead you look deep into his beautiful blues and nod with a pleading look in your own eyes.

He grins wickedly, cock twitching against your stomach at your agreement. "I knew you’d be a good one," He praises, positioning himself at your entrance once more. With a gentle push of his hips, he’s sinking back into your pussy, groaning at the feeling of his cum squelching around his shaft.

His lips find your neck, biting and sucking as he finds a pace, headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Gonna ruin this little pussy," He swears, hand tightening around your throat.

"Gonna make you mine, fuck, my own personal little cocksleeve."

His hand on your throat heightens your pleasure and leaves you seeing stars, both from the pleasure and the constriction on your oxygen. The new position allows you to see him, that beautiful face, his robust body, the way his abs flex as his hips snap into yours. From this position he can see your tits bounce as he pounds into you, the way your eyes roll back as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

Anakin slides in and out of your cunt with ease, thrusts lubed with his lingering cum spilling around you. It’s obscene, but so, so good.

“Ah, Ani,” your legs wrap tight around his waist, hold him deep inside you, nails dig into his back. “F-fuck you feel so good,” you gasp.

"Fuck yes, take it, take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

He releases your throat to grab your hips, angling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you with each pass. "Gonna fill this pussy up over and over, make sure my cum takes. You'll be swollen with my seed, doll. Round with my baby. Fuck, the thought of you, all knocked up, tits leaking, begging for more..."

He can feel his release building, balls drawing up tight, full and heavy with another load.

The flood of air, his filthy fantasies, his fucking expert cock driving into your raw, freshly-fucked cunt with otherworldly precision leaves your ears ringing as your orgasm rips through you. The entire world fades into black, tears prick at your eyes, electric contractions take over your whole being. And when you come back to the light, you’re begging.

“Fuck, Ani,” You squeak, “Please, please, please, cum inside me,” You plead, hijacked by a sudden desperation for the older man’s baby.

His eyes darken at your desperate plea, teeth grit as he feels his own orgasm ready to burst. "Fuck yes, gonna pump you full of my cum, make you fucking drip with it," He pants, hips stuttering as he erupts. "Fucking take it, take it all, just like that," He rambles, grinding his hips as he empties himself inside you.

Finally spent, he collapses on top of you, cock still twitching in your heat.

Your legs are shaking, pussy clenching at the aftershocks, overflowing your shared fluids. Your vision is blurry, throat parched, completely and positively wrecked. Strained sighs echo out of you, chest rising and falling heavily, pressing your bare breasts into his chest.

He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, your collarbone, tasting the sweat on your skin. "Goddamn, baby girl, that was intense.” He sighs.

“You’re tellin’ me,” You breathe out. “I can barely see.” You confess with a lazy smile, still yet to fully come back to your mind. You let out a pained sigh as you try to adjust under his weight, needing to stretch and soothe your sore limbs.

With a grunt, he rolls off of you, cock slipping from your abused hole with a wet sound.

"You did good, baby. Took my cock like a champ," He praises, running his fingers over your hair. "But don't think we're done yet. As soon as I'm hard again, I'm gonna flip you over and take you from behind. Fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

He leans in, eyes carefully observing you, and captures your lips in a filthy kiss.

"Gonna keep you in this bed all fucking night.”

You let out a heavy breath as you adjust to lay on your side, facing Anakin, placing a hand over his colorful chest. “I don’t know how you do it, old man. Even most men my age can barely cum twice, let alone be waiting for the next round after that,” You laugh, eyes lit up bright in your post-orgasm glow.

Anakin laughs too, and it’s nice. Unlike his usual laughter, snide and sarcastic, but honest.

His hand finds your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. "Years of practice, sweetheart.” In truth, the thought of you, young and eager, so responsive to his touch, is enough to keep him hard and ready. "Besides, I got a lot of lost time to make up for. Gotta make sure I ruin you properly, make it so no other man can ever satisfy you like I can."

He rolls on top of you once more, half-hard cock nestling against your thigh, resuming the feather-light kisses on your neck. "Ready for round three, baby girl? Gonna fuck this pussy so good, you'll be feeling me for weeks.”

The sound you let out is a mix of a sigh, a laugh, a moan, demonstrating your blissful exhaustion. “I don’t think I can take another round, Skywalker. I’m swollen enough as is.” You grip his biceps, resisting the urge to take his cock in your hand. He’s too fun to play with, but you can’t take the risk of turning him all the way on again, not when your cunt was already beginning to ache.

He groans at your rejection, cock jumping against your thigh. "You sure, doll? I'm not nearly done with this sweet little cunt," He mumbles pitifully into your neck.

But he can hear the exhaustion in your voice, feel the way your body trembles beneath him. Reluctantly, he rolls off of you, propping himself up on his elbow. "Alright, baby girl, you win. But don't think for a second that this is over. I'll have you again soon enough."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, tongue lazily tangling with yours.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his bicep to ground yourself. One of your legs lifts to drape across his hips, pulling yourself in close to him. You were beginning to like the feeling of being held in his arms. It was ironic how such a dangerous, predatory man had managed to make you feel so safe.

You pull away to speak, eyes falling to the mattress. “I don’t really want you to go yet,” You admit quietly. You fought him for a long while, and now, like a stupid little girl, you didn’t want to let go.

He smiles at your confession, hand running soothing patterns on your back. "Didn't think you would, baby girl.”

Carefully, he gathers you into his arms, rolling onto his back and pulling you to lie on his chest. "Rest for a bit. Let me hold you," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's a rare moment of tenderness from him, but something about you brings it out.

You crane your neck up to look at Anakin from where you lie on his chest.

With the late afternoon light peeking through the window, his eyes are illuminated. He’s breathtaking, showcasing the experienced he’d gained over the years, but also maintaining his youth. You still hardly knew the man, up until now he’d only been your annoying neighbor, but… He wasn’t as bad as you thought. Sweet, even. It made your heart melt. Who knew Anakin Skywalker was like this behind closed doors?

You reach over him to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. As the buzz envelopes your brain and my body, you sink into Anakin’s arms without a care in the world, kissing the colors dancing across his chest. Let this old man wreck you.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of your curves, the sheen of sweat on your skin. You look thoroughly fucked out, debauched, and it's a sight he could get used to.

His fingers trace idle patterns on your back as you relax against him. He kisses your head again, repeating the uncanny, saccharine gesture, breathing in the scent of sex and nicotine.

Your brain reminds you of something Anakin had said earlier, in the midst of his pursuit.

“D’you really think I’m living here for fun? Cause I like danger and bad boys?” You ask him with a laugh, voice thick, low, seductive with your exhaustion.

Anakin chuckles, sound rumbling through his chest. "Baby, I don't care why you're here. All that matters is that you are," he says, a hand sliding down to grab your ass. "Couldn't ask for a better view’n watchin’ you prance around in them tiny little bikinis.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he grips you, jiggles you, pulls you closer. “Fuck, the things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

A small smile tugs at your lips, as a mixture of excitement, but also disappointment, courses through you at his words. You didn’t really expect him to actually care but… you didn’t think he’d be that blatant about it, fresh after fucking you. He doesn’t actually think about you, he doesn’t actually want to know you. You were a toy to him. And it… hurt. And you didn’t know what to make of that, yet. Where once there was a warmth fueled by laying beside him, there quickly became an emptiness.

You had to remind yourself Anakin was no good, he’d probably make a terrible partner realistically, and you knew this. But it never feels good to be actually sexually objectified. Although, objectively…. having sex with Anakin felt��really good.

Here, with Anakin, lay the newest dilemma in your mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sure you’ve imagined more than enough to keep me busy,” You say as you start to sit up, giving Anakin a long kiss on the cheek, before clearing your throat. “I should really get cleaned up.”

He frowns, hand tightening reflexively on your hip. "Stay," he urges, almost angrily, in a tone that makes your heart freeze, ready to jump into fight or flight, waiting for the moment his characteristic sourness is turned toward you.

But Anakin just doesn’t like the feeling of you leaving, even if it's just to the bathroom.

But he notices the distant look in your eyes, the way you're already pulling away from him emotionally.

Fuck, he thinks. I should've known it was too good to be true, that a girl like you wouldn't stick around for a washed-up old ex-con like me.

He calls your name, voice softer than he’d ever heard it himself. "Don't go. Stay with me, just a little longer."

Your eyebrows knit together as Anakin’s soft tone takes you off guard, the way he nearly pleads with you to stay. It’s uncanny, but the way it makes your heart ache is even worse. He was starting to be a true mystery. “Um, okay,” you whisper, somewhat softening back into his side, heart still racing as you toe the line between danger and safety, dangerously thin in Anakin’s presence.

Still marinating in your confusion, something makes you take his arm and pull it close over you, gently stroking his skin. It was as if something reached out & told you he needed the comfort.

You lay there together for a while, holding each other in silence, feeling each other out. It’s nice, being in the arms of a strong, older man. Especially Anakin’s. You find solace there, you have to admit. You think he must have, too. You had to practically tear him off you and throw him out the door to get him to go home.

And as soon as the door shut behind him, you were wrecked, like a piece of your heart had walked out with him. But you held it together. Anakin was surely not the kind of man who wanted a little girl clinging to him every minute. You would be patient until you saw him again.

The door clicks shut behind me as I step out into the fading evening light. I can still feel the lingering warmth of your skin on mine, the soft curves of your body imprinted on my memory. Fuck, I didn't want to leave. Didn't want to let you go.

But I knew I had to. Couldn't let myself get too attached, too vulnerable. You were a kid, barely more than a baby, and I was a fucking mess. A criminal, a drunk, a man with a past so dark it would break you if you knew the half of it.

So I forced myself to walk away, each step an act of willpower I didn't have.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Repairs

Requested by @talesofreading : Would you write something where you're a close friend of Steve and one time as your Bike needs some repair, he tells you to bring it to Bucky as he's good in fixing it. You're hesitant first as you have a bad crush on him but you decide to do it. So when you get there he's wearing a muscle Shirt, is all dirty and Looks pretty hot with his metal arm. So after you watch him fix your bike you can't resist the way he also Looks at you, so it happens that you end up in his shower together with some passionate smut. Later then he asks you for a proper date? 🤭

AN: omg this was sooooo good to write omg

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, piv, oral (f receiving), fingering, language

*gif not mine

MASTERLIST

"Yep, totally busted," Steve said, looking back up at you from where he knelt next to your smoking bike.

You put a hand to your sweaty forehead. Both of you had been at this for the better part of the afternoon, trying to figure out what was wrong with your motorcycle. Steve was in his white wifebeater, stained black from oil and grim, nails coated in dirt. He'd sweated right through his shirt and even his jeans were full of mud and dirt.

You'd sweated your fair share as well, competing with dirt under your nails and sweat right into your hairline. you didn't look any better, but you didn't care; this was your best friend, after all, and you had no reason to try to impress him.

"You know what?" Steve said, putting his tools back into his box. "You should go see Bucky."

You immediately rolled your eyes.

"He's good with bikes, y/n," he commended, seeing the way you shook your head.

"Is this another ploy to set me up with your grumpy best friend?" you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve got to his feet, dirt-stained hands going right into his pockets. "I mean it, y/n," he said, almost scolded. "I'm not as savvy with bikes as he is. He'd do it if you said I sent you."

"Then come with me!" you said. "Every time I'm alone with him, there's this awkward silence and all he does is grunt as a response."

Steve smiled. "I wish I could come, but I've got a date," he answered.

"Yeah, right," you grumbled. You watched him carefully, your best friend and mentor, and something along the edges of his eyes was curious.

He was shy.

"Who is she?" you asked.

He shrugged. "A girl that I saw at the library." He cut that off pretty short, picking up his tools, his towel, and throwing the keys back at you. "Now, get to Bucky's before it's nightfall."

Bucky lived way out of the city, into the utopian suburbs. You found it funny that this was the life that Bucky chose. After everything you'd heard from him, you'd pictured him in a dingy, half-lit, half-crumbling one-bedroom in Manhattan. Not in the outskirts of the city.

Thank God your car could pull a trailer, or else you'd have had to ask Bucky to meet you at your place, and that just wasn't happening. The thousand-year-old soviet asset was known to be a judger of literally everything.

You pulled into Bucky's parking space, the garage to his tiny little house open, like a black mouth ready to swallow you in. By this time, it was nearing four in the afternoon, and the sun was searing, hot and humid, and with just a foot out of your car, you were already sweating.

You closed the door loudly, maybe trying to announce your presence so you didn't have to knock on the door.

"Hey." It was Bucky, coming out of the shadows of his garage. It took you a second to get the hinges in your jaw to work because, damn.

You'd always thought of Bucky as a man who passed as good looking. Well, when you met him, he was still in heavy therapy and on government surveillance. He still had long, matted brown hair and a face dragged down by sorrow.

But now. Now he'd taken to cleanly shave his hair, leaving a few inches of thick, curling locks on top of his hair, not totally covering his ears. And even though he was slimmer than the last time you'd seen him - he hadn't been working out as much - he still looked... better. Real better.

"Hey," you said, awkwardly waving at him. He was carrying a white rag, cleaning his hands from oil or dirt or whatever else he'd been doing. "Steve said I could come to you if I had problems with my bike?"

He pursed his lips. He came closer, out of the shadows and into the mid-afternoon sun, and you got a good glimpse at him. Golden skin, scars matting his hand, his knuckles. He was wearing a muscle shirt, the kind that was maybe a bit too small for him, molding to his muscles, straining across his metal bicep.

You'd never really seen the arm before. Only flickers of his hands or fingers, but never the entire machine.

You licked your lips, something squeezing in your lower belly.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

you shrugged. "Dunno."

He glazed his eyes, rolled them. "Alright, take it down and bring it into the garage."

With a tiny sigh of resentment - he wasn't helping you - you unlatched the ties of your bike and rolled it into the garage. it was darker, a little cooler, inside. As you settled your bike in the dead center of the room, Bucky brought two stools, effortlessly carrying them around.

He sat on his and motioned with a wrench for you to sit beside him. Even though you'd sweated all day in your black t-shirt, and God knows whatever he'd down today, there was something terrific about sitting this close to Bucky.

His tanned fingers worked to open up the bike, his metal hand working the wrench.

"Ah," he said, poking around the engine. "I see what's wrong."

"Is it fixable?" you asked.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, darling," he whispered.

You swallowed the heat climbing up your throat, watching him get to work in silence. Unlike Steve, Bucky didn't tell you what he was doing or why; he just did it.

It took longer than expected. And the more he worked, straining against your bike, the sweatier he got, the more figetting you did.

His flesh arm was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His hand was veined, strained against the metal piece he was holding aside. His fingers were dirty with grime and dust. Even that God damned muscle shirt was stained with dirt and sweat and grime.

By the time he was done, a light sheet of rain was coating the ground outside. It was pitter-pattering against the cement, a slow drone of rain against the tin roof. Almost comforting.

"You can't take your bike out in the rain," he said, putting everything back in its place, stowing his tools and his rags.

You gulped. "Yeah, I'm sure the rain will let off soon." You dragged your sweaty palms onto your jeans nervously. It caught Bucky's eye.

He stood, dragging your eyes up to his figure. He was so tall, so wide at the shoulders, sweating in his shirt, hair a mess.

"I've got beer inside," he said, throwing the rag in the corner of the garage, placing his tools on his self-made wooden desk. Then he turned to you and gestured to the front door. "Come on."

You followed him out into the rain, walking quickly up the steps and into his home, which smelled of him, something woodsy, and air freshener.

You were humid, rain dotting your skin as you took off your sneakers and followed him into the kitchen. The air conditioning was making you cold.

his home was cozy but so boyish. No decorations but a huge TV. A grey couch with not pillows or blankets. Empty liquor bottles as props over the refrigerator, which droned on and on. There was only one magnet on his fridge, and it read "I love NY!" Which was ironic because Bucky didn't love anything.

"Here," he said, offering you an ice cold beer, but it did nothing to warm you up. You leaned back against his kitchen counter, sipping on your beer, watching him poke around the inside of his fridge. The yellow light cast on his face like a glow, and he hummed when he found what he wanted.

By the time he took out the rolled up cheese, he saw you shivering by the sink.

"I'm sorry," you said, settling the beer down. "I'm just a bit cold from the rain."

He hummed, slamming the cheese rolls on the kitchen table.

"We ought to warm you up," he said, diving back into the fridge to get a beer, which he opened and took a five good gulps before he wiped his wet mouth.

"Yeah," you chuckled, pressing your hands against your arms, searching for heat.

The super soldier, immune to any heat or cold or anything really, stood before you with his sticky muscle shirt molding to every nook in his muscles. His arms, his chest, down to his abs. Water had made it almost see-through, and you felt like a perv watching as he breathed, watching his muscles contract beneath the fabric.

"You should take a shower, y/n," he said, tone low.

You startled, eyes dragging from his abs to his face in a split second. Did you smell? Was that why he'd said that?

"You're shivering, poor thing," he said, clucking his tongue, taking another wild swing of his beer. And you noticed that he was eyeing you took, at your jeans sticking to your thighs, your hips. At your wet shirt glueing to the curve of your waist and breasts.

He set his beer down and offered his hand. "Come."

On some instinct you'd never registered before, you took his hand, flesh fingers warm and calloused.

He led you into a small bathroom with no windows. where various male paraphernalia was strewn across the sink. He pulled the shower curtian back and started the shower and you just stood there like a fish out of water; mouth slightly agape, your hand still loosely holding on to his.

"Bucky?"

He hummed.

"I don't get it," you said.

He returned his gaze to yours, satisfied with the steam rising from the shower. He gave you a small, tight smile. "Get undressed," he said, gesturing his chin at you, dropping your hand.

You stood there like a statue, examining him; from the hard jawline, the seriousness in his eyes, the way his skin pulled back when he moved his mouth.

Then, harder this time, "Get undressed or freeze, sweetheart."

The nickname, the pet name, sent a wave of fresh heat right into your face.

He watched, then slowly, he smiled. Like a rpedator trying to win its prey without having to sink teeth into flesh.

He took a tiny step towards you, watching your breath hitch, and he slid metal fingers under your shirt, pulling it up until it came right off your head. Your hair flopped back down over your shoulders, covering your bra.

He bit his lip. You watched, entranced as he moved to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs. He was agile because he took your panties off with it.

He came back to his full towering height, and he brushed your hair behidn your shoulders, exposing your chest, your full flesh to him.

He snaked an arm around your waist, and you gulped, the feel of his hands, burning metal fingers, was like a lightning bolt had erupted under your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, close to your ear, his breath in your hair. "So fucking gorgeous." He slid his metal hand up and then your bra was sliding off your arms.

"Let me touch you, y/n," he whispered in your ear. You gulped, nodded. "Use your words, sweetheart," and his voice was rugged, wretched, as both his hands slid careful fingertips up on your ribcage.

"Yes, Bucky," you whispered.

He huffed against you. And then his metal hand engulfed your breast, knead it the way he wanted, and his lips found your neck. You whimpered, taken by surprise by his sudden act of devotion. His tender fingers pulling your nipple, drumming against your ribs, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses up your jugular.

When he kissed you, his mouth was warm and wet, and he molded his lips to yours carefully, like he didn't want to scare you off.

You kissed him back just as carefully, confused and distraught, unaware that for years, Bucky had been yearning for this opportunity. For this moment where he finally had you alone.

Quickly, the kiss became rougher. Your hands pulled at the soft, thick strands of his hair and he pulled you aainst his with his metal arm around your waist. He nipped at you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, groaning as his flesh finger felt you.

He skimmed along your navel, until he could cup you in his palm. You squeaked, taken by surprise. "Easy there, princess," he whispered against your mouth. "Just wanna make you feel good."

He dove right back for a kiss, delving his tongue behidn your teeth while his fingers started working circles around your clit.

You had realized how riled up he'd gotten you, like a hardwire ready to snap.

You bent like a bow in his arms, moaning against his mouth as his fingers continued to circle your clit in slow, languid circles. And when he prodded farther, where you most ached for him, he moaned against your mouth when he felt just how soaked you were.

"Fuck, y/n," he groaned, pulling his mouth from yours.

You almost whimpered at the lost of contact, but he picked you up so effortlessly, so quickly, that you hadn't registered that you were now sitting on the edge of the sink until you couldn't see him anymore. All you could see was the steam rising from the shower, clogging the bathroom, settling on your skin in dotted water drops.

And Bucky, on his knees, pulling your knees apart. His eyes, hooded and so blue, looked up at you as he kissed the inside of your thigh.

"One leg on my shoulder, baby," he ordered, his metal hand under your thigh, helped you move until you were almost straddling his face. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, biting into the plush of your thighs.

The angle sent you backward, back against the cold mirror, and one hand hanging onto the edge. Ready to plummet or fly, you couldn't tell.

His mouth teetered around your pussy, kissing along your thighs, until he settled over your clit and gave you one long swipe of his tongue.

Your head fell backwards, eyes closing, hips searching for his mouth.

"You taste so sweet," he cooed, pressing another long lick from your hole to your clit.

A strangled moan escaped your clenched teeth when he sucked on your clit, one of your hands digging into his hair and pulling him where you wanted him.

The room was filled with the filthy sound of Bucky getting his fill, lapping you up and sucking in your clit like a man starved. Both hands leaving ink-blue marks in your hips.

He worshipped your clit, flicking and sucking to a rhythm that had your thighs shaking against his face, with you pulling his hair by the roots. He sucked and fucked your hole with his tongue until a knot formed right under your belly button and exploded in white hot lightning.

As your orgasm washed through you in waves, rocking against his face, a moan hitched in your throat.

Bucky held your thighs open, refusing to let them close, and lapped up his fill.

When you were but a trembling, babbling mess, Bucky it into your thigh, kissing up your knee until he was standing between your legs. His eyes were hooded, pupils blown, mouth red and glittering, swollen from the kisses he'd lain on your clit.

"Come 'ere," he groaned, grabbing you by the back of the neck, bringing you upright on the counter. He brought his mouth to yours in a feverish, harsh kiss that left you dizzy and scrambling to keep up with him.

You pushed him away, grappling at his shirt, pulling it over his head. You gorged on the sight, on the tanned skin exposed, the scar where his metal shoulder meshed with his flesh. You touched the tips of your fingers to his metal shoulder, skimming down to his hand.

He took your mouth again, pressing you back into the mirror, hands in your hair, on your breast, skimming down back to your dripping hole.

He entered one flesh finger, pressing against your walls, so slippery and warm. He hummed, feeling your breasts against his chest as you bowed your back at the sensation.

You patted him through his pants, feeling him warm and hard against your touch. He hissed at the sensation, nipping at your mouth.

He continued to move his digit in and out of you, pressing his palm to your clit. You continued palming him, pressing against the impressive length of him until he groaned and took himself out of his pants, dropping them at his ankles and kicking them away.

Your mouth opened in a small 'o' at the sight of him, hard and thick, tip dripping precum.

"Too much for you sweetheart?" he asked, pressing his forehead to yours, thumbs on each side of your jaw.

You shook your head, gulped, saw the faint smile that crossed his face. He watched you with keen eyes as he lined himself with your soaked heat.

He pressed his thumb against your mouth, kissing you, as he slowly inched in. He watched you take it, watched as your mouth opened, brows curving upward.

"Don't give up on me baby," he whispered, nipping at your mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw.

He slid himself to the hilt, grabbing your hip in a bruising grip, metal hand pressed against the foggy mirror over your head.

You gasped, latching onto his shoulders for dear life as he pulled back and thrust back into you, feeling you clench and flitter around him.

You whimpered, body pressing up against the mirror with one harsh thrust from his hips.

"That feel good, huh?" he asked, boring his eyes into yours, keeping a slow, languid pace with his hips. "Tell me, y/n, that feel good when I fuck you?"

You nodded, feeling him slick, sliding into you with ease, stretching your walls and hitting that spot deep in you that made you writhe.

"Yes, Bucky," you answered, breathlessly, scratching at his flesh shoulder.

He groaned, taking your mouth with his, speeding up his thrusts, making your head catch on the mirror. You moaned against his mouth, giving up full control of your body to his, at the mercy of every thrust, every change in rhythm.

"Taking me so well," he grunted, hiding his face in your shoulder, bruising grip on your hip helping him thrust himself deeper into you. Then he pulled himself up, face hovering over yours, searching your gaze wildly. "You like it when I fucked this tight little hole?" he asked, and again, his tone was scratching the surface of something wilder.

You nodded, feeling a knot form in your belly, your thighs closing around his hips. His mouth stretched into a smile, pounding deeper and faster into you. "Yeah, you do," he said, almost mockingly, pressing a sweaty forehead to yours. "I see the way you always look at me," he grunted, kissing your mouth, humming at the moan that left your lips.

"Bucky, please," you whispered, eyes falling shut, your orgasm on the brink of breaking.

"I feel you, y/n, come on," he grunted, keeping a harsh, pounding pace until your legs shook and your orgasm broke through you in waves. "Fuck, that's so tight," he breathed, chasing his own end, pounding into your tightening hole.

A stuttered moan left your lips as you clung to Bucky, rocking into your orgasm with every thrust, feeling the wave of pleasure reach your toes. His metal hand came slamming onto the mirror beside your ear, cracking into the glass as he pounded into you, breathless and wordless until he gave you a few sloppy thrusts and he was spending himself in you.

He stayed there a few moments, breathing with you, kissing you softly until he pulled out of you. You stuttered, a breath hitched in your throat, as you felt him leaking out of you.

He met your gaze, leaning back to examine his work, and then he slowly helped you to your feet. You giggled at your loss of coordination, hearing Bucky chuckle too as he helped you into the shower.

You let the warm spray wash his seed from the inside of your thighs, soak into your hair.

"Warm enough?" he asked, chin on your shoulder.

You chuckled. "I've been warm enough for a little while."

He hummed, placing both hands along your waist. He helped you wash up, lathering your skin and hair, helping you wash out the suds.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. "You're quiet."

"Yes," you answered, looking over your shoulder at him. "Are you?"

He smiled, eyes low. He raised his brows. "I am now," he whispered.

When you were done with the shower and you were both drying up, Bucky tied his towel around his waist and watched you put your hair up in a towel.

"What?" you asked.

He snorted. "It isn't like me to do...this," he said, leaning against the sink. His chest was wet, glistening spots lingering down to his abs. It was enough to make you want to do this again.

You smiled but didn't answer, focused on getting your towel around your torso.

"Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?" he asked, and you looked up, met his eyes across the steamy bathroom, and smiled.

"Yeah, of course."

[silenzahra]

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

⚠ BROTHERSHIP SPOILERS ⚠

This is basically a narration of the intro scene of the game, so as you can imagine, this story is spoilery for those who haven't started playing the game yet. Beware! ⚠

This might be a simple story, but the intro scene really spoke to me. Ever since I saw the first trailers, and especially, after seeing the looks the brothers exchange when Luigi saves Mario, I knew that I had to write something related to it. Just, those expressions resonated deep within.

So... here's the result! As a way to celebrate that Brothership came out a week ago today, I thought it'd be the best moment to post it. Since there are spoilers here, I won't be tagging anyone, but I sincerely hope whoever reads this story will enjoy it 🥰 And of course, likes, kudos, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome! 💖

As always, feel free to choose between reading this fic on AO3 or continue reading under the cut. Whatever you choose: get ready for some brotherly love coming your way! ❤️💚

(Needless to say but just in case: please do NOT tag as ship 🙅‍♀️)

❤️ Where is my brother? 💚

“Luigi?”

Mario walks through the green island where he’s ended up searching for his brother. Everywhere he looks he only sees trees, bushes, grass and more and more vegetation, and beyond, the crystalline blue sea, but no trace of Luigi.

Except, of course, for the visions.

It's not the first time Mario has seen his twin before him even though Luigi isn’t physically standing next to him, but it's been so long since the last time that Mario has been caught completely off guard. At first, in fact, he broke into a run towards him, convinced that Luigi had found him, and stopped dead in his tracks in confusion the second his brother vanished in front of his eyes.

When he heard him trying to push a rock behind him, Mario turned around, full of happiness and relief, and immediately set out to help him... only for Luigi to disappear again the instant Mario began to push too. The feeling of joy that had flooded him at seeing his twin deflated like a balloon that had just been stuck with a pin. Crestfallen, he could do nothing but repeat Luigi’s name, anguished at not being able to find him.

But then he heard his sibling once more.

This time, the voice came from the top of an embankment that Mario hurried to climb in a few jumps. There he found him again: standing at the beginning of a dirt road, Luigi was jumping and waving to him incessantly, excitement shining on his face.

And it was then that Mario understood.

These were not mere visions... but their brotherly connection guiding him to his twin.

After all, the bond they share since birth has always been special, intense, profound. It’s a bond that knows no bounds, that goes beyond what the mind can comprehend, that is not of this world.

It’s a bond that binds the hearts of both brothers with an unbreakable thread, stronger than any rock and more solid than the very ground their feet walk on. A bond that lets them know that the other is safe and well.

A bond that, since their childhood, guides their steps towards each other so that they can be together again as soon as possible.

After all, they’re not used to being apart for long.

So, at last having understood, Mario headed towards the path that Luigi indicated, ready to travel the distance between them.

His little brother, just as he expected, disappeared shortly before he reached him, but Mario didn't falter this time. He knew, he knows, that their twin sense was guiding him towards Luigi, and that, at the end of the road, there he’ll be at last: alive, real and solid.

On all those occasions, Luigi guided him by calling his name. Now, as he walks along the path that his brother showed him, Mario realizes that his heart is filled with relief as he remembers that Luigi's voice has sounded sing-songy every time, amused even, almost as if he were playing hide-and-seek with him. Maybe that's a good sign...

... Or maybe he's clutching at straws.

After all, Mario knows his brother too well to know that Luigi would never try to make a game out of a situation like this, in which, once again, they’ve been separated by accident and in strange circumstances. Surely, his brotherly sense is only trying to reassure him, as Mario, in fact, imagines, with a shudder that takes away all traces of ease from his inner self, that his twin must be terrified, anxious and desperate to find him.

Very similar to how Mario himself is feeling at the moment.

So he continues to look for Luigi and call him, on the lookout for any sign that might indicate the whereabouts of his little brother.

But, for the moment, nothing.

As he walks, Mario rubs his arm regretfully. Guilt pricks his soul and his heart shrinks in his chest. Why didn't he hold him tighter? Why did he have to let go... again? It's not the first time his sibling’s hand has slipped through his fingers and Luigi has ended up somewhere out of Mario’s reach. He should have learned his lesson by now.

He should have learned to be a better big brother by now.

Mario grits his teeth and keeps moving forward. He may have made the same mistake again, but he’s more than determined to make amends. The resolution to find Luigi takes up his heart completely and relegates guilt to a corner of his heart, though it doesn't disappear entirely, not by a long shot. They may both be grown men now, but Mario can never shake the feeling that Luigi and his well-being are his responsibility. He will always support his brother in whatever decisions he makes about how to live his life, and of course, he has unwavering faith in Luigi and his skills, but Mario, at the very least, will always see to it that his sibling is well, safe and sound, and will do everything in his power to contribute to his happiness. Always.

But, for that, first he has to find him.

It is then that Mario realizes that he hasn't seen any new sight of his brother for a while nor heard his voice calling him again, but that won't stop him.

Nothing could stop him from doing whatever possible to reunite with Luigi.

Looking around again, Mario notices that he’s reached an area of the island that leads to the ocean. And off in the distance, sailing across the mighty sea that surrounds him, he sees a huge ship, more like a floating island, which, however, also appears to be covered with vegetation. A huge tree stands out in its center, its leafy crown serving as a sail, and the figurehead appears to be a thick tree branch. Mario stares at it in the distance, amazed and astonished.

But then he hears something that startles him.

A scream.

A scream that sounds very similar... to his name.

That voice...

In a hurry, Mario runs to the very edge of the island where he is, wanting to listen better in case the sound comes again.

And indeed...

“MARIO!”

Mario gasps, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Luigi!”

Of course! If he hasn't been able to find Luigi yet, it's simply because they've ended up in different places. Again.

But that's about to change.

His twin sense has guided him there. He’s heard Luigi again, and this time he sounded scared, terrified. Mario's most primal instincts, those that push him to always protect his sibling from all evil, have been activated and run through the plumber's body from top to bottom, filling him with adrenaline and urging him to do something, to help Luigi in any way he can. What if he's in trouble? What if he's been kidnapped? He couldn't bear the thought of his little brother being captured once again, and because of him too. Just like last time.

No, no way. He has to do something.

Without hesitation and with his twin’s desperate voice echoing in his ears, Mario steps back. For a few seconds, he just stares at the huge ship that continues to advance before his eyes, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched. Soon it will be nearby, and the time will come to bridge the distance between the two with a wide leap. He must time it very well and be very fast, for the ship is moving swiftly.

Showing a patience that he’s only capable of when it comes to Luigi, Mario waits. He doesn't lose sight of the ship for a second and counts down mentally to determine the moment when he should run. Almost there, he says to himself. It's not long now.

Soon he’ll be able to see Luigi again, and he’ll fight against all odds to help him.

Mario takes a deep breath and positions himself on the ground. The ship is almost within reach. It's only a matter of seconds before it’s close enough.

So, without a second thought, Mario starts to run.

He does so with all his might, getting closer and closer to the gap that separates him from the island ship. The determination to aid his brother, to make sure he’s safe, governs his movements and makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

After all, Luigi sounded scared.

He needs him.

He needs his big brother in the same way Mario needs his little brother.

Mario reaches the point where the island he is on ends and leaps.

His jump is high and forms an arc in the air, as always. He’s more than used to making jumps like this, both in his many solo adventures and in those in which his beloved brother has accompanied him.

The ship is nearing. Mario heads for it at full speed in the air and stretches out an arm to cling to the edge as soon as he reaches it...

But then he notices two things.

The first is that, being a ship, it has continued to move. It’s no longer so close to the island from which Mario leapt seconds before.

The second is that, therefore, his jump is not as high as he expected it to be.

He hasn't timed it right.

He's not going to make it.

He's going to fall into the sea and the force and speed of the ship will finish him off.

And he’ll never have the chance to meet Luigi again.

Mario panics. As his body begins to fall, as he watches before his terrified eyes how the ship slips from his grasp, he can only think that he cannot die without first making sure that Luigi is all right. He hasn't had a chance to see him since they fell through that portal, he doesn't know if his twin is okay. That was undoubtedly a cry for help. Luigi is in danger! How can Mario help him if he falls to his death?

“NO!”

Mario screams. It's not a cry of terror at his own impending death, but of frustration and rage. He asks only to be able to see Luigi one last time, to be certain that he’s all right, that he’s safe and sound, and then he’ll be able to move on.

He will accept his end with open arms if only he can know that Luigi is fine and well.

But, above him, Mario sees only the sky, a limpid blue, which begins to recede farther and farther away as he plunges to his death in the sea.

At least, he tells himself, the last thing his eyes will see before they close forever will be the vastness of the sky, which today seems to be clearer and brighter than ever.

And then, suddenly, fingers reach for his and a palm strikes his.

Unexpectedly, Mario finds himself hanging over the ocean. Some small stones fall around him, and he allows himself to look down for a moment, towards the roaring waters that were about to become his grave. He’s unable to restrain the mixture of terror and relief that takes over his entire body and soul as he realizes that he’s narrowly escaped.

He’s been very close to dying.

“Mamma mia...”

Mario's heart is still beating wildly in his chest, distressed at the proximity of death, when he decides to look up to find out to whom the hand that has just saved his life belongs.

His face immediately lights up as he notices the person that, leaning over the edge of the island, is silhouetted against the crystalline blue of the sky. A hat, a moustache, overalls... An outfit very similar to his own, but in shades of green and blue instead of red and purple.

Mario is beside himself with joy.

“Luigi!”

His exclamation is full of relief and the deepest and purest bliss. There he is: his strong little brother, eyes closed, clutching his hand, making a visible effort to hold him and not let him be swallowed up by the waves.

And, above all, more alive, real and solid than ever.

Mario's soul begins to sing with joy — Luigi is fine! Luigi is well and real, and not one of the visions that have been guiding him towards his sibling.

And not only that, but he has just saved his life.

Mario owes it to his dear, brave little brother that he can continue to breathe.

In fact, this was all he wanted: to be able to see Luigi one last time, to check that he’s well, that he’s alive and not in danger at all. If now death were to take him out of Luigi's reach, if the sea were to claim him in spite of everything, Mario would be happy to let himself go.

But his younger sibling, much stronger than he thinks he is, clings to him with all his might, almost in desperation, and does not seem to be willing to let death take his big brother away. In the midst of the effort, within seconds of hearing Mario call out to him, Luigi opens his eyes and looks directly at him.

The terror and anguish glistening in his eyes cut Mario's breath for an instant.

For a second, suspended over the edge of the ship, held only by his twin's fingers, Mario ponders how he himself would feel if the situation were reversed.

In fact... he knows all too well.

Before they ended up in that world that seems to consist only of a wide sea and a couple of islands, Luigi, in an attempt to flee from some bees that were attacking him, fell off a cliff in the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario almost fell with him from the momentum with which he rushed after him to rescue him, and he vividly remembers the fear he experimented, the horror that gripped his heart, as Luigi dangled from his hand, one step away from death.

Mario swallows. The anguish that invaded him at that instant hasn’t completely left him. He’s been so close to losing his brother that he’s sure that never, not even if he lived a thousand lives, would he be able to forget the panic, the terror, the horrible and sad prospect of living in a world without Luigi... and that it was his fault.

He could not bear it.

Guilt would not let him live.

His shattered heart would never recover.

And his twin's eyes, at this instant, scream exactly the same to him.

Mario can't blame Luigi for being afraid of losing him, for he himself would see his life end if death were to take Luigi from him.

Clinging to the edge of the island with his other hand, Luigi closes his eyes again and pulls Mario up, grunting from the effort. With only one hand, he manages to lift his big brother up enough so that Mario can grab onto the edge of the cliff with his free hand and pull himself up. With their combined strength, Mario finds himself taking a small, unexpected leap into the air before his entire body is safely on the ground.

He only allows himself a second to catch his breath before he sits up and begins to turn around so that he’s sitting on the grass.

“Thank you, Lu,” he manages to say in the meantime, between gasps.

Looking at Luigi out of the corner of his eye with a tired smile on his face, he notices that Luigi, standing next to him, is silently watching him, trembling, his face falling apart, his eyes moistening. Mario barely has time to wipe the smile off his face before his twin, screaming his name with a mixture of fear and relief, begins to cry loudly as he stretches his arms out to either side. Mario turns his head towards him for a second before, with an exaggerated jump caused, no doubt, by the state of nerves in which he is, Luigi pounces on him.

Despite the surprise, a wave of sheer love and warmth floods Mario when he feels the arms of his little brother, his emotions always running high, surrounding him and holding him with a mixture of liveliness and affection that warms his soul and heals all the fear and anguish he’s experimented in the time he’s been apart from his sibling. Still crying, Luigi starts to rub his cheek up and down against Mario's, who, again, smiles, this time moved, and he raises his arms to return his adored twin's embrace.

“Oh, Lulu,” he whispers, soft laughs springing from his throat due to the tenderness that invades every corner of his soul.

There he is, next to him, always as concerned for his well-being as he is for Luigi's. His twin, his brother, his sibling, his other half. The person who balances him, who keeps him sane and without whom he could not go on living.

Mario has finally found Luigi and never plans to be separated from him again.

[scoops-aboy86]

Break Free (Secret Admirer pt 9)

This is the last chapter, but there will be an epilogue posted soon.

wc: 4663 / rated: T / set after season 3 / also on ao3

It ends with Steve’s hands sliding into Eddie’s hair—damp from sweat and a little tangled and stiff from whatever product he uses to make it look so full when, actually, the curls seem fine and almost wispy against Steve’s fingers—to cradle him closer. Eddie sways back, big brown eyes glazed and slow-blinking but coming back from whatever stratosphere the kiss had sent him to. Instead of letting go, Steve lets Eddie slip through his fingers until his hands come to rest on the guy’s shoulders. And then, when Eddie starts to scuttle backwards, he keeps a loose grip on his forearms that slides down until they’re nearly holding hands. 

“Eddie,” Steve tries desperately, stomach sinking. His lips and heart feel bruised. “No, please don’t go, it’s okay.”

For a moment, Eddie’s palms settle in his hands. Those wide eyes focus on him, seemingly with great effort, and Eddie starts shaking his head and muttering, “Shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have…” Slurs the words a little. 

“It’s okay,” Steve says again, softer, trying his best to be gentle, imploring. “It’s okay that you did, don’t worry about shouldn’t. I am the opposite of mad, alright?”

Eddie hesitates, then adds uncertainly, “M’drunk.”

“Yeah, you are, kinda,” Steve agrees. “I mean, kind of a lot. I’m not, but I’m… I’m good, baby. Please just stay and talk to me? For a minute?”

“Oh,” he says in the smallest voice Steve’s ever heard—smaller than he thought Eddie even could be. It sounds a little like something breaking, and everything about him seems to shrink in on himself. “So you know. That I’m me.”

“Yeah, I know you’re my secret admirer.” Something is breaking in Steve too, just watching it happen. “Look, Eddie, you’re a theatrical guy. Maybe you had an idea about some big, dramatic reveal where everything would fall right into place with, with an impressive speech like something out of your letters. You’re so good with words, man, so I can see it. I get the vision. I don’t know your voice as well as I want to yet, but I know how you sound from those letters because you’re so expressive and smart about that shit, fuck high school and what the teachers might say, but…” 

He rubs his thumbs gently over the pulse points at Eddie’s wrists, feeling how it races, and desperately clings to eye contact through the head tilt that sends curly hair draping across his face. 

“I don’t know what you had in mind for this, or if you could even picture it because it’s such a huge thing after all the build-up. But maybe this is okay? I mean, yeah, you’re drunk, that’s not ideal I guess. But I could go inside with you and get you some water, make sure you don’t puke again, get some aspirin out for you to take in the morning… and we could try that kiss again when you’ve sobered up. What do you say?”

Immediately Steve feels like an idiot for that last sentence. It sounds more like something he’d say when offering Dustin ice cream to cheer him up after missing a radio call with Suzie or something, not offering to take care of someone he’s hopeful about being able to date. He can feel his face heating up… and after a moment, Eddie raises one hand to very, very gently touch his cheek. The one that’s still bruised under the makeup. 

“Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, and that’s a new one. Maybe a little girly, but Steve kind of likes it because it makes their names match: Eddie and Stevie. “You’d really…?”

“Offer to take care of you? I think I just did.” Steve allows himself a tentative smile. “Kiss you again? Absolutely. I would maybe direct you to a toothbrush and toothpaste first, maybe some mouthwash, but—”

Eddie shakes his head with a wet snort. “Oh fuck off, don’t… don’ rub it in.” He blinks, one eye slightly slower on the uptake than the other but for the most part pretty well coordinated. “We can go in. You, you don’ care ‘s a trailer?”

“I’m literally considering getting one of my own when I move out,” Steve tells him. Because he has been, there aren’t a lot of options for a single dude in Hawkins that don’t involve a sublet basement or room above a garage or something else to that effect. Maybe if he had roommates to split the cost of renting a house with… but all the friends he has now are still in school. 

So. Yeah, Forest Hills trailer park had been on his radar before tonight. Right now, if tonight goes well, it’s honestly at the top of his list.

Big brown eyes blink at him again. “But where’ll you put your pool?” Eddie asks, dead serious in the way only little kids or the very drunk can pull off. 

“It doesn’t travel well.” Smiling, he reaches across and pops the passenger door open. “Come on now, you need more water. No, hey hey hey, wait for me to come around—!”

~

Eddie wakes up queasy and with a pounding headache. Definitely hungover, but vaguely aware that he should feel worse. 

He has a fuzzy memory of waking up in the middle of the night (or morning?) to hurl, and being coaxed afterwards to drink more water, nibble his way through a piece of toast, and swallow a couple of pills. Aspirin, probably, based on the fact that he’s not hallucinating right now, which—he’d had a bad experience once when he grabbed the wrong tin, okay, he does not want to think about that right now. 

…

Upon further consideration, the fuzzy memory was probably a dream. Because he remembers it being Steve fucking Harrington doing the coaxing. Coaxing, and blushing deliciously whenever Eddie’s fingers had brushed against his, so of course Drunk Eddie had made a point of letting that happen as often as possible.

Nice dream, though. 

…

Why is it so warm? Like, yeah it’s summer and the trailer has one dinky AC unit in the living room window that doesn’t really do shit, and it doesn’t feel like he’s slept until the hottest part of the day, but. He’s holding a pillow to his chest or something? Damn thing is radiating heat. 

He should move. 

Ugh. He doesn’t want to move. His stomach rolls less when he stays still. 

…

The pillow is breathing. It’s holding his forearms where they’re crossed over its stomach with big hands, grip lax with sleep. 

…

Wait.

That’s no moon. 

Eddie tenses, finally starting to actually wake up.

Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re… a fictional character and I’m SPOONING STEVE GODDAMN HARRINGTON.

The only thing Eddie doesn’t get is how he could’ve gotten his arms around the dude like that without waking him up. He’d been a gross, vomiting mess last night, surely Steve wouldn’t have chosen to cuddle up. Maybe Wayne had come home from work and sent him crawling in here to share the mattress instead of risking a perfectly good spine on their old monster of a couch… and then Eddie had wrapped around him somehow? While they both slept?

He tries to sit up, but immediately regrets it when his head throbs, his stomach clenches, and he realizes his left arm is numb from where it’s wedged under Steve. It’s enough to make him groan out loud, and of course that’s when Steve starts to stir. 

There’s nowhere to run. Even if he rolls away, the farthest he can go is flat on his back between Steve and the wall. It’s just a twin mattress, there’s not exactly— Oh god, and he’d spilled bong water on it again yesterday but hadn’t gotten around to stripping the sheets off and doing laundry yet. He’d figured he’d hit the party and afterwards bribe Jeff to take him by the grocery store for baking soda. But that hadn’t happened, because apparently he’d decided to get blackout drunk instead and now he’s in bed with Steve Harrington and, and, and—

“Eddie, Eds, hey, breathe!”

Steve is rolled over and facing him now, propped up on one elbow and eyes wide with concern. He has a hand pressed to Eddie’s chest over his heart—and this is how Eddie realizes they’re both shirtless, fantastic, absolute cherry on top of the freakout sundae that is this morning—while holding Eddie’s non-numb hand over his own. 

“Like this,” Steve tells him, and takes a slow breath in and out. 

In and out. Eddie tries to copy him. 

In and out. 

When trying finally dissolves into actually doing it, into breathing like a human again, something in Steve’s expression loosens in relief. “Fuck,” he sighs, sagging a little but still careful not to pin Eddie’s arm again. “I’m glad that worked, I’ve never done that with anyone besides Robin before.” He bites his lip, gaze scanning over Eddie’s face like a hot brand. There’s still fading evidence of a massive shiner around his left eye, more obvious than Eddie remembers it being last night and with hints of inexpertly wiped-away concealer here and there. “Are you okay?”

“No?” Eddie manages to croak. “How did— Why are you— What did I do?”

Because he must have done something to end up in this situation, something which he has absolutely zero recollection of, to end up in this predicament, wearing only his boxers and one sock, cuddled up to the guy he’s in love with.

Who is currently wearing a borrowed pair of Eddie’s shorts. Jesus H. Christ. 

And yet, somehow Steve manages to look bashful about the whole predicament. “I, uh. Kind wanted to make sure you got home safe, because you said you didn’t have a ride.”

Eddie rakes his brain for an explanation for that, because he had had a ride. And, fuck, where the hell is his lunchbox? He winces and holds up a wait a minute finger, because while this crisis is important, he literally cannot afford to have lost that and it’s making the bottom fall out of his stomach in a completely different direction. “I need to make a call. It’s very important.”

“Oh, uh… okay.”

There’s some shuffling, not made any easier by the pins and needles feeling now rippling through Eddie’s left arm, but eventually Steve manages to sit up and swing his legs off the side of the bed so Eddie doesn’t have to suffer the mortifying ordeal of physically clambering over him. It’s the one saving grace of the day so far. He stumbles out of his bedroom, mindful to keep quiet but still glaring down the length of his trailer where Wayne is asleep in his cot, sleeping soundly while his only nephew suffers. 

“Pick up pick up pick up,” he chants under his breath while the phone rings, using the mantra to keep his breathing steady. “Pick u—Oh hey, hi, good morning, is Jeff home? Uh, awake? I need to speak with him on an extremely urgent matter. Life or death. Please tell him that. Thank you?”

Jeff isn’t a morning person. Neither is Eddie, usually, but here he is at… Christ, only 8:42am on a Saturday morning, twisting the phone cord around one finger that it’s starting to lose feeling again. He just about jumps out of his skin when he hears Jeff’s gruff, “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“Goooood morning to you too,” Eddie blusters, trying to sound insanely cheerful rather than panicked. “Quick question, did I give you my lunchbox last night?”

The immediate groan mostly answers that question. “Yeah, Munson, you did. And I’m hauling your ass home next time if this is the thanks I get for letting you stay and get wasted.”

Eddie sags against the flimsy wall separating the kitchen from the bathroom. “Oh thank fuck. Sorry man, thank you, I’ll… It won’t happen again, I’ll never call you before noon for the rest of my days, I swear.”

“Yeah right.” Jeff yawns. “What the fuck has you so wired this early, man? Or are you still awake from last night?”

I wish. “Nope, weird dream,” Eddie replies. “I’ll, uh, swing by later. In the afternoon. Go back to sleep.”

“You know that once I wake up I can’t get back to—”

Eddie feels bad for hanging up on his best friend, but it’s not like he can tell him what’s actually going on. There’s the whole gay thing, for one, but even having a female jock in his bed would send shock waves throughout his tight little friend group, so panicking at Jeff about the remaining, and once again much more looming issue isn’t an option and never has been. Probably never will be. Maybe. Eddie doesn’t know. He has a Steve Harrington to deal with.

He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to check how he looks in the mirror. Too much pressure; he already knows it’s not going to be pretty after a night of drinking, and whatever his bed head has decided to do on feels lopsided and tangled and weird. 

Or maybe he’s overthinking it. He probably is. 

Okay.

Okay, he can do this.

… He can run out the trailer door, boxers and one sock be damned, and never look back. 

No, no, he can do this. He’d had the balls to start writing the letters in the first place, he can deal with whatever inexplicable fallout has come of it! What’s the worst that could happen? 

Maybe Steve had stayed to tell him to stop writing the letters. So he could reject him face to face in the light of day, without the risk of alcohol washing the memory of it away. Maybe even reveal that he’d figured Eddie out a long time ago and played along, that it was all just a big joke. Prank the freak, right?

Just for a second, Eddie lets himself contemplate bolting. Sinks down on his haunches with his reddening face in his hands and thinks it through: how he could get to Jeff’s on foot, pick up his seed money and his guitar, buy a bus ticket out of Hawkins and maybe find an apartment when he gets to Indy, maybe catch another bus headed for Chicago, New York, Los Angeles. He doesn’t have a high school diploma but shop was the only class he’s ever passed with flying colors, so he knows he can find work somewhere even if it sucks starting out. Set up in some city where no one knows his name and no one from home (except Wayne, of course, he could never cut Wayne out) knows his mailing address. No more letters from Steve, and it’s only a matter of time before Steve breaks out of his parents house and then Eddie really won’t be able to write to him anymore. And then life would be just… like that. Never knowing if it could have worked out after all, but by then it’d be too late. Forever. 

A world without Steve. Without sunshine. Without air. 

Okay. 

Eddie groans, scrubs his hands over his face, and reluctantly goes back down the hall to his bedroom. Without a stop to check the bathroom mirror, he’s already hanging on by a thread as it is. 

~

Waking up to Eddie having a panic attack wasn’t the best way this morning could have started out. The longer Steve waits for him to come back the more awkward he feels, enough that he gets up briefly to try and find his shirt. He fails, in all the mess, but opens a nearby drawer and pulls out the first shirt he can find: something so faded he can’t even read it, with the sleeves hacked unevenly off. 

Not that this makes him feel any less presumptuous about being here.

Eddie clearly doesn’t remember giving him a ‘grand tour’ of the trailer, or ending it with “And this is where all the magic hap’ens” while dragging Steve into his room, or whining for him to change out of his clothes and and get some sleep. He probably doesn’t even remember what had happened in the car—the music, the kiss, the pleading confession on Steve’s part. 

Actually, maybe it’s better that Eddie doesn’t remember the confession part. It was kind of embarrassing. Steve could probably do better. 

… Except he’ll probably have to do it all over again, which suddenly seems a lot worse. Shit. There are a stupid number of butterflies in his stomach and it feels like they’re about to form a tornado in there. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the bedroom door opens. Eddie slinks back inside and leans against it until it’s closed behind him again. “Sorry, had to check on my… illegally gotten gains.”

Steve almost frowns before he remembers that Eddie had been at the party in the first place to sell. He himself has a plastic baggie in his jeans pocket (carefully folded with the rest of his clothes on top of the messy dresser) that Eddie had literally sold to him. “Oh. Shit, man, I didn’t even think to check on that last night. Sorry.”

Eddie laughs thinly and slumps his way from the door to the bed, grabbing a t-shirt off the floor, sniffing it, and wiggling into it along the way. He keeps a carefully neutral distance between them—not close enough to touch, but not so far away that it seems like he’s avoiding him. (Or maybe Steve is overthinking it.) “I don’t think you have to apologize for not helping me enough, man. Pretty sure I’m the one that should be saying sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

That makes Steve frown. Is Eddie talking about last night, or about the letters too? Does he even remember that Steve knows? Butterfly tornado is officially a go. “It’s fine. Like I told you last night, I don’t mind helping.”

“Yeah…” Not quite looking at him, Eddie reaches up to rake the bangs out of his face, even though they fall right back into the same curly fringe just covering his eyebrows. That’s when he seems to notice the shirt Steve has on, pupils dilating slightly before he looks resolutely away and fidgeting. “I don’t exactly remember last night, but I’m pretty sure ‘helping me out’ shouldn’t include letting me grope you in my sleep.”

“I’ll take an octopus over a starfish any day,” he replies immediately, and truthfully. Embarrassingly. Lately, as the nightmares have started to calm down enough to catch some actual rest sometimes, Robin has become more prone to stretching out in her sleep. Not, like—she doesn’t stretch out so quickly that she’s flailing around and giving him more bruises, but the crowding is pervasive. Like the goddamn butterflies. 

The look Eddie gives him is flat, tired, and a little manic, plucking absently at a loose thread dangling from the bottom of his shirt. Which, upon further inspection, is inside out. “Steve. What am I missing here?”

Last night, after Steve had finally found him again in the crowd, he’d kept grinning and making dimples pop in both cheeks. If there hadn’t been so many people around, and if Eddie hadn’t been so drunk, Steve probably would have kissed him long before they got to the car. 

Steve takes a deep breath, lips tingling with the memory and urge to do it again. First, though, they have to get through this part. Again. 

He reaches out, taking Eddie’s hand from where it’s fussing with the shirt, and threads their fingers together. The chunky rings Eddie usually wears are still on the nearest flat surface to the bed, but this hand still has the thinner band—an old mood ring, Steve thinks, though the stone always seems dark so maybe it’s broken. He looks at their hands together, and feels something settle in his chest. 

Nervous as he is, this feels right. When he hazards a glance at Eddie’s face, it’s pink. Also angled down to stare at their linked hands, but Eddie is looking at him through unfairly long eyelashes. 

“Steve?” Eddie whispers, sounding… what? Afraid, awed? He’s got to be nervous too, it’s written into the tension in his slightly scrawny frame, looking smaller without all his usual layers of denim and leather. 

“I know you wrote those letters,” Steve murmurs, leaning into the carefully curated distance between them. “And I still like you. I keep telling you I like you, but you keep being surprised. Just let me want this, okay?” 

He squeezes Eddie’s hand again, watches as those eyelashes flutter slightly with the pressure. 

“Last night I said a bunch of stuff you probably don’t remember, and… I kind of don’t remember exactly either, now that I have to say it again?” Steve gives him a sheepish smile. The damn butterflies have stopped doing anything as coherent as tornadoing and are just flying around like lunatics. “Basically, you’re smart and fun and really good with words, which I’m not, but after you kissed me—”

Eddie’s eyes snap up, open wide as they’ll go. “I did what?”

“Shut up, let me finish. I was listening to that new tape you sent me on the way to the party because you make me feel good. Like everything is okay and I can do anything, even talk to you at a party. And I kissed back, by the way, and I really want to do it again now that you’ll remember it, if you still want to. But the point is—” he squeezes Eddie’s hand again “—I like being your sweetheart. I want to keep being that, but with face-to-face privileges this time. As… your boyfriend?”

He’s never seen anyone’s jaw drop outside of cartoons, but that’s what happens. Eddie’s pale cheeks go from pink to outright red, a flush that travels down his neck, and Steve can’t help but wonder how far down it goes. Stupid inside-out shirt that’s in the way now. 

“I,” Eddie says weakly. “I think I might pass out.”

“Well, I caught you the first time,” Steve jokes, and only feels a little bad for it when Eddie hides behind his free hand with a groan. And then second thoughts hit. “Um, pass out in a good way though, right?”

“Yes,” Eddie whines behind his palm. He peers out at Steve between his fingers, the hand in Steve’s gripping him back tightly. It makes the butterflies still swarming in Steve’s stomach suddenly feel a lot friendlier. “Fuck, definitely a good way, sweetheart. I was just… really braced for this to not work out, just in case, and instead I just woke up with a boyfriend.” His hand lowers just a bit, pulling a lock of his curly hair over his mouth. “And, apparently, a first kiss with you that I don’t even remember.”

“I can fix that,” Steve says eagerly, leaning forward—just a bit, he’ll wait for the official go-ahead, but god, now he’s focused on Eddie’s plush, bitten lips. He wants to feel them on his again. To feel the sparks, that rightness that he’s been missing since Nancy. The early days with Nancy, anyway… Back when she’d been just as in it as he’d been, before Barb died and monsters started crawling out of the woodwork on a semi-regular basis. 

Steve wants. 

Eddie looks like he wants too, gaze growing heated as he licks his lips in anticipation, but still his hand and hair are in the way. “I should, uh, brush my teeth…”

“Already did a few hours ago,” Steve assures him with a chuckle. “You used so much toothpaste I thought for sure you’d gag and lose that toast and aspirin I finally got into you, but you insisted on your ‘god-given right to hygiene  and tonsil tennis’ and threatened to duel me over it.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. “Can’t believe you’re still here after that.” 

Then it seems to occur to him that Steve is still here, and Eddie frees both hands and lunges forward, their mouths connecting just shy of too hard. 

Their bodies press together a second later and Steve lets momentum carry him to the mattress, the planes of Eddie’s body overlaying his. One arm goes around Eddie’s waist to keep him close and the fingers of his other hand sink into that sleep-wild mane of curls. The butterflies have dissolved, leaving his heart beating at its cage of still-healing ribs—which Eddie keeps himself propped up on his elbows just enough to not put pressure on. Steve’s lips part in a pleased sigh when he realizes, and it’s equally an invitation to deepen the kiss, his whole body tingling with glee when Eddie immediately accepts. 

It’s the opposite of the first time, which had been slow-fast and uncoordinated, desperate. This starts at a hundred miles per hour, even while chaste, and only intensifies as Eddie licks his way into Steve’s mouth. Firm and smooth, and, fuck, Eddie is good at this. Good enough that there’s a little green flicker of jealousy in Steve’s gut, in amidst the red hot coals of excitement, at the thought of Eddie making out with other guys—but he’d picked Steve to write love letters to. 

And even though Steve has been the lead when kissing girls, with extremely few exceptions, he’s happy to follow wherever Eddie wants to go. 

Just when he’s fighting off the urge to gasp for air, Eddie breaks the kiss without going anywhere, both of them panting against each other’s lips. And then Eddie presses close again and it’s even slower, savoring, tasting. Steve is floating with it, kissing back on pure instinct because everything beneath his skin has gone molten and glowing. He doesn’t have to think, because he’s the one being guided. He’s held in the gentle grasp of Eddie’s hand coming to cradle his cheek; he is loved. 

~

Dear Steve,

I hope this is not untoward; I have not written to you before, nor am I in the habit of writing letters to anyone. But as I’m no stranger to wielding a pen, I hope these words might convey the depth of feeling I hope to—no, that I must convey. 

You’ve looked so sad, for months now. It makes my heart ache to comfort you; to smooth the crease between your brows with my thumbs and shield you from the cruel world with its untold horrors. I don’t know if this will help, but I have to try. 

You, Steve Harrington, are loved. 

We’ve existed in each other’s periphery for years, enough that you might recognize my name or face if I dared to reveal them. For my part, I don’t think a day has gone by since the first time I saw you that you haven’t been on my mind. It’s as though there’s a spotlight in every room; whenever you’re there it always shines on you. I’ve seen from the way you share the contents of your lunch tray without a second thought, the way you work to cheer up your teammates after a bad game or what have you. You’re kind, Steve. While I can’t say I care for some of the company you used to keep, as some of them are real gold star assholes, even with them I could tell that you tended to give more than you took. I grew up without someone like that in my life for a long time, but I’ve come to hold it in the highest regard and you have it.

That’s all, for now. I’m going to slip this in your locker. Maybe I’ll hang around, try to see if any of it makes you smile, because god that’s such a sight. If it does, maybe I’ll write again. Try to break up a little more of that dark cloud hanging over your head, sweetheart. In the meantime, and forevermore, I shall remain—

Your Secret Admirer

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve

@rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls

@matchingbatbites @ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor

@whalesharksart @thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

@dauntlessdiva @nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever

@goosesister @dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@kurofuckingshi16 @bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

[starkeysprincess]

I feel like drew + forced orgasms is the closest he’d ever get to Rafe. He’d turn absolutely evil. It’d have to be a situation with a co-star he “can’t stand.” I looked at the link for the Rafe blurb and omg. yeah. absolutely. I could hear the man’s horrifying words immediately.

Just having you bound and helpless, your ass branded with his handprint and a vibe going full bore highest setting shoving it against your poor pussy🤤 “just a few minutes ago you were saying you hate me, now you’ve already cum three times screaming my name. that’s another five for fucking lying. And you know what the best part is? I don’t even know when I’m gonna stop, let alone your dumb little head. *laughs* you can cry and scream all you want but it just turns me on even more. I can do this all night. til your clit falls off and your slut brain is dead and the only words you know are my name and “daddy.”

see you get me !!! like the only way i can see a situation playing out with drew like my bully!rafe blurbs is by the two of you being co-stars who can’t stand one another

the two of you are always having screaming matches on set cause you simply just can’t get along yet somehow make it work cause it’s your job but once cameras are done rolling, the two of you are bickering

it’d most likely get to a point where he’s done with your shit, dragging you to your trailer, tying your hands behind your back with his belt, his large handprint etched into your now reddened flesh

of course, it’s not surprise that he finds your vibrator considering he’s been in your trailer before to snoop around so he knew exactly where you’ve hidden your little vibrator that you keep with you when you’ve had long days on set

he’s already made you cry out his name as you came three times from shoving his fingers deep in your cunt while pressing the vibrator to your aching clit and your poor little cunt can’t keep up

he’d taunt you, mimicking your pleas, “s’funny cause i could’ve sworn you were yelling how much you hate me yet all that’s coming out your mouth is ‘d-daddy please’ the last three times you’ve came”

“that’s another five for lying…you could keep saying you hate me but we both know this pretty cunt is enjoying every fuckin’ second of it”

“wanna know the best part? the more you deny it, the more I’ll keep going until it becomes too much and that little brain of yours shuts down completely that all you can do is lay here and take what I’m giving you”

“i can keep going at it for hours until you poor little clit can’t feel a thing and the only words that you could manage to say is my name and daddy”

[toxicanonymity]

Shooting Practice

1600 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

mood board by @milla-frenchy

A/N: FLASHBACK TO BEFORE YOU ESCAPE.. This isn't what I was working on 🚬🤡. WARNINGS: I8+ inner conflict, dubcon p in V (captivity), angst. plz suspend disbelief about shooting, etc. Raider Joel Master List, His trailer

FLASHBACK / IMAGINE

Between "Stash House" and "Failed Escape. "

Joel leaves you in his trailer sometimes if he isn't taking you on a raid. His trailer is nice compared to the stash house. Especially because his men aren't there, but it's also a little cleaner. You sense he’s a practical man. He doesn’t have things he doesn't need, aside from whiskey. He could sleep on the ground with nothing. The fact that his bed has sheets and a blanket–no, the fact that he even has a bed and lets you sleep in it–feels like a luxury. He doesn't just let you sleep in it. He holds you. It feels more protective than affectionate but you feel safe.

Joel only uses the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. When you come in the front door, you enter into the eating area, and turn left for the bathroom and bedroom. But if you turn to the right, there’s more. It’s a small galley kitchen. There’s a pantry full of ammunition and cabinets to your right, a utility closet, a closet, and then a room you’ve never seen Joel use.

In the living room, the carpet is scratched through in some places. It’s dusty. There’s an old forlorn sofa. The roof leaks on that end of the trailer. There’s a giant spot on the thin, blue, speckled carpet.The carpet is full of stains with various items scattered around. A dust buster. Two empty pet bowls in the corner, covered in cobwebs. There’s a TV/VCR combo and a radio. There are shelves with warped and faded books.

The first time you notice the children’s books, it makes your stomach turn. You ask Joel who used to live there. Hell if he knows, it was empty, the whole trailer park was. Most of the trailers are gutted, their insides destroyed by a fire. This one had been far enough away. You try not to think too much about who used to live there. You try spending time in the living room and it feels like your own space, but it's also spooky.

Joel has one of his men keeping an eye on you from down the hill, but it's for protection--to stop any of his men from going up there. You're allowed to go outside. When you have an opportunity, you explore the immediate area around the trailer– the top of the hill, and the woods. There isn’t much to see, and you don’t go far, afraid he’ll come back and think you’re trying to escape.

When you're hungry one afternoon, you try to forage for mushrooms in the woods. You find a collapsed, faded tent with a lump under it. Your gut tells you it’s a body. The next day, it’s in the same spot. You’re probably right. Joel always says it’s too dangerous, you shouldn’t go in the woods, and now you know why.

----------

One day, you’re feeling particularly restless, but you stay inside. When Joel gets home, he grabs ammunition from the pantry and is about to do target practice outside. You overhear him shooting when he does it.

“Can I watch,” you ask.

He glances at you skeptically, then mutters “yeah okay.”

You walk around back with him, the opposite side of the stash house, to the opposite ridge of the hill, facing the trailer park, with the woods on your left. There are shells of abandoned cars scattered behind the trailers.

The two trailers you’re looking at are marked up with spray paint, x’s, o’s, stick figures. One of the stick figures has a gaping hole in the head and smaller holes around it.

Joel sets up his rifle and gets down on his stomach, which gives you butterflies to watch. His triceps flex as he gets into position and his shapely lower body holds an interesting pose as he peers into the sight of his gun. He takes a shot and you don’t see where it goes.

“What’d you hit?”

Joel glances at you. “Trailer”

“Where?”

“See that guy with the hole in his head? went through that.”

You settle in to watch, legs folded to the side, fingers exploring a clover patch while he shoots. You pluck the little white flowers and consider making a crown out of them, but you would feel silly in front of Joel. You tear them to pieces instead with a lump in your throat.

Joel takes a few more shots, then asks, “wanna see?”

He scoots over and you swallow your emotions. You get on your stomach next to him. When you peer through the sight, you can see right through the trailer to the next one where he’s shot a large hole in the middle of an X. “wow,” you marvel. “all the way through?”

“yep”

“you’re really good at that.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Wouldn’t keep ya if I wasn’t. Someone’s gotta keep ya safe, sweet pea.”

You nod and give a small smile.At this point, you’re still unsure where you’re better off.

You get out of his way. He takes a couple more shots while you pensively look for four-leaf clovers.

There’s nothing waiting for you back home, but sometimes, the way Joel plucked you out of your life doesn’t sit right. You didn't get to choose.

—------

Joel lets you watch him most days when he does target practice, and one day he asks if you wanna try.

"Look, uh, you don't need to be usin' a gun like this okay?"

"yeah, I know."

"but if ya wanna try it, right here with me. . .I can show ya."

"really?" He showed you his pistol before but didn't offer you could shoot it.

Joel nods for you to come over. You've shot a pistol before, in your old life, but never a long gun. You lay on your stomach, trying to emulate his stance. He moves your legs into position for you and you can feel the air on your inner thighs as your dress bunches up near your hip on your right side.

Joel cages you to the ground with his body, laying his chest flat against your back. He puts your hands on the gun and keeps his hands over yours. “You’re gonna wanna look right here.” He points at the sight then returns the hand to yours. “And hold the gun real steady. It’s gonna jump back at ya.”

“Okay.”

“Ready? I'll squeeze it the first time”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes the trigger and his arm muscles flex against you as he fires. It goes straight through the hole to the x. With Joel holding it steady, it doesn't jump back. The next time, he lets you pull the trigger while he holds the gun steady. When he shifts his weight in between shots, you can feel him getting hard. Each time, he puts less and less of his strength into it until he thinks you’re ready to do it on your own. He gets up off you and watches.

You line up the shot and take it. The recoil startles you even though you knew it was coming. The bullet pings a blank spot on the trailer next to the stick figure’s neck. You’re disappointed but Joel says “Good girl, look at that.”

-------

He takes the gun from you and puts it aside. Then he cages you to the ground again. He lowers his hips and you feel the shape of his stiff cock through his thin jeans. “my gun looks good on ya,” he murmurs.

You’re still up on your elbows. He put his weight on one of his forearms and reaches his other hand under your arm to cup your breast. He rolls his hips into you and gropes you. You’re getting wet. He does it once more, and you sigh.

"Not here," he says. "too exposed."

He begins to push himself off, and you feel the cool air against your damp panties as he sits back on his knees between your legs. He mutters, “fuck" and defies himself by reaching between your legs. He slips a finger under the cotton and when he feels how wet you are, he inhales sharply then mumbles, “gotta be quick.” When you hear his zipper, a wave of arousal hits you.

He hovers over you resting on his forearm again. "relax, sweet pea." You put your arms down and rest your head on top of them. "want it here, right?" He presses on the damp spot.

"Yeah"

He pushes your panties to the side and nudges his tip into place. You're wet but not quite wet enough. He spits on his hand and adds saliva to his tip before returning it between your legs.

He lines himself up and shoves into you, his girth splitting you in two. Your body rushes to catch up but he doesn't allow much time to adjust. He slowly brings his cock back, then slams in with a grunt. Then he goes at a jackhammer pace, breathing vocally and railing into you until he moans "ohh, ah–" and slows his hips.

He plunges to the hilt and sighs in relief as he fills you with his cum. You whimper on the edge, almost there yourself, but you don't know how he'll react if you touch yourself, so you don't.

------

Maybe you'll have a moment to yourself later. Or maybe--you catch yourself wondering--maybe, he'll fuck you later and take his time. You shame yourself for the thought.

There's no mistaking what your body wants. It's always wanted him, but there's something that scares you now. You're beginning to fear it's not just your body anymore.

-----

Thank you for reading

she's afraid her desire/acceptance isn't just physical anymore

Next would be Failed Escape

the last line:

she's afraid her body belongs to him and not just herself

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

It’s A Love Story…

Colt Seavers (The Fall Guy 2024) x Reader

-Part 2 to Coffees, Plural-

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters in this story except for Sheila and the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: Background is summarized on part one! I tried to get Colt as in character as possible, but it’s hard to perfectly capture him 🙃 also, this is not edited!! idk if it’s cringe or cute, but if you enjoy the story, please leave a comment! I’d love to see what you think! Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s the best!

Content/Content Warning: nothing serious! Just some suggestive themes and some smooching at the end :)

Part three is out!

Reader’s POV

Looking back on it, I think my crush on Colt Seavers really did develop on day one. But little did I know, it’d only get stronger.

Dramatic, right? It’s not wrong, though…

After bonding over his affinity for coffees,- yes, plural- that first day, I knew I was down bad. At first I thought it was just stupid butterflies- I was prone to falling fast- but as I got to know him I realized it was far more than just stupid butterflies.

There was just something about him- a lot of somethings, actually. It was- it is- his puppy eyes. His coffee addiction- affinity, sorry. His sense of humor, the way he comes preloaded with sarcasm at any given time. The way his legs bounces when he’s nervous, bored, excited, or all three. His perfect smile. The way he pays attention, the way he cares…

I could go on. And on. And on. And on. But you get the idea.

And oh, that voice… that’s enough to-

Sorry. Anyways.

Over the past nine-ish months we’ve gotten pretty close. I’ll meet him for lunch on set, we’ll meet at each other’s trailers just to hang out, sometimes we’ll find ourselves down by the beach… it’s just nice.

Also, over the past year, I’ve rekindled my friendship with Jody Moreno. We hit it off immediately after I arrived, as if no time had passed at all since the last time I saw her. We’re close again, just like we were back in college, which is also really nice.

She knows full well about my little (big) crush on Colt. I didn’t even have to tell her, she just burst into my trailer one day a couple months ago, accusing me by exclaiming “You like Colt!”

She’s lucky I love her so much, because otherwise her incessant teasing and blatant attempts at setting us up would be just a little annoying.

Today I was on set, watching Colt get thrown around while being on fire. I couldn’t help the way my heart tossed and turned with worry while watching him do his stunts- yes, he’s a professional but that doesn’t mean these crazy stunts scare me any less. He teases me about my worrying, but I can see the way that sometimes the thumbs up he’ll send the director’s way isn’t genuine.

By the fifth take on this stunt I could tell he was beginning to grow weary. Thankfully the stunt coordinator takes mercy on him and tells him to take five after the crew extinguishes him.

He gets up and looks around before setting his eyes on me. My face grows warm as I watched his face light up when he recognized me.

“Heya stud,” I say by way of greeting when he approached me. “How you feeling?”

“Never better,” he responds with a trademark thumbs up.

“You know that that’s still cheesy, right?” I ask. He gives me the thumbs up pretty much anytime I ask him how he’s feeling, and I tease him about it every time.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he shrugs playfully. I swear, he purposely lowers his voice sometimes. Not that I’m complaining, it’s definitely not unattractive…

“Maybe a little,” I concede with a small smile. “Anyway, I brought you some brownies for lunch,” I said, taking a brown paper bag out of my satchel. “They’re from that bakery we tried a couple weeks ago.”

“Aww, [nickname], you shouldn’t have!”

“Oh don’t you worry about me, I ate like three for breakfast,” I say sheepishly. They really are that good, the baker must be putting crack in them with how addictive they are.

“So you’re telling me I can’t offer to split one with you on the beach?” he asks, bringing out the puppy eyes- at least, more so than usual given that he always has puppy eyes.

“Now how can I say no to that offer?”

“You can’t,” he says with a cheeky smile as he starts walking back to set, noticing the stunt coordinator waving him over.

I wave goodbye to him, and then sneak over to the directors chair to say hi to Jody.

“Aw, look at this blush!” she greets when I meet her, pinching my cheeks. “A certain stuntman got your panties in a twist?”

“Why do I subject myself to you?” I groan.

“Because you love me.” She’s not wrong.

“How’s the scene coming along?”

“Perfectly, I’m just torturing your boyfriend until he agrees to go to karaoke with the rest of us tonight. I think he’s still embarrassed from last time,” she laughs.

Last time he drunkenly sang that Love Story song by Taylor swift and was straight up bawling midway. Everyone laughed and has a recording of it, and holds it over his head.

“You’re pure evil, Jody Moreno, and I very much aspire to be you,” I say, watching Colt get flung into the rock again.

“It’s an art, what can I say,” she shrugs, before grabbing her megaphone.

“Oi, stuntman!” Colt sends over a thumbs up before she can continue her sentence. “I feel like we can salvage that last take…” she smirks.

He groans, out loud. And even from like 25 feet away, I can hear it. And I don’t like how hot I find it.

“All I need is a double thumbs up,” she chides. The rest of the crew is also turned his way, with a lot of snickering coming from our little peanut gallery.

He meets my gaze and I mouth “please” with as much puppy eyes as I can, hoping that he can read my face from where he’s at. He scowls in a comical way, closes his eyes, face dramatically tilted toward the sky before finally looking back at us- at me- with two thumbs up.

“Perfect, that’s a wrap!” Jody exclaims, cackling maniacally after she’s turned off the megaphone. “See you at nine, Seavers!”

He gives a little sarcastic wave, but a smile takes over his face as he meets my gaze again, and I can’t help the way my heart skips a beat when I send a coy wave his way.

***

Colt’s POV

You know that feeling, when your heart starts pumping and you start smiling all stupid, when you’re telling yourself that you’re a dipshit but it’s because she’s just too perfect?

Yeah. That’s y/n to me. Anytime I’m near her I have to remind myself to breathe. It’s like the movies, like some sort of rom com that she loves so much, except better. So much better, if you ask me.

Honestly, I’ve had a crush on her since the beginning. Man, I just used the word crush. For some reason I can hear that dipshit Tom Ryder’s asshole voice in my head, calling me a “pussy bitch”- a personal favorite “original” term of his- for using the word. But I don’t care, because how else do you describe… butterflies.

You know what it is? It feels like a Taylor Swift song. Like a Love Story, if you will. And baby, I just want her to say yes.

I think I need help.

I still remember how flustered she got when I accidentally scared her when I met her that first day.

We had both been running late, me more so than her due to coffee(s- yes, plural) related reasons- it’s an affinity, not an addiction.

I had went to say hi while she was in the middle of doing her own makeup, I think she got bored waiting for me, and she jumped like six inches, and accidentally dragged her makeup brush down the side of her face.

I felt so bad, the look was gorgeous, very northern lights- esque with greens and blues and purples- but at the same time, I was too stunned to speak. Y/n is gorgeous, as it turns out, with or without makeup, and even with a steak of yellow going down her face that would make anyone else look like they had a jaundiced scar.

Thankfully, I still don’t think she noticed my dumbfounded disposition as she ran to the sink.

But the thing is, she’s not just drop dead gorgeous. She’s also the sweetest, cutest woman in the entire world. Her sense of humor- the self deprecations, the sarcasm which perfectly matches mine… how flustered she gets when I’m driving her around, the way she gets cold and smuggles into my side when we sit in the trunk after a night swim, shivering but still trying to talk with her teeth chattering. The way her hand’s so small compared to mine… you get it.

Also, the fact that she doesn’t make fun of me for being a Swiftie.

At least not as much as the others do.

Which frankly, isn’t saying much, now that I think about it.

Anyhow, even after being thrown against a rock four times I’m still not ready to wave the white flag at Jody. I told myself I would never step foot in the karaoke bar again, not after last time…

Sorry, I just got war flashbacks.

<Author’s Note: these war flashbacks sound a lot like Love Story by Taylor Swift>

But then of course, she just had to be on set. She’s got me wrapped around her little fingers, bringing me brownies and calling me a stud. The last straw was the puppy dog eyes from across the set- I have no idea how she hasn’t figured out the effect she has on me. Or maybe she has, and is just an evil genius. I don’t really know.

Not that I need to know, because if the words “Swan dive off of a bridge” fell from her perfect lips I’d probably do it.

Looks like I’m going back to karaoke…

***

Reader’s POV

“Come on, y/n! We’re gonna be late!” Jody yells as she raps her knuckles on the door of my trailer.

“I’m not coming out! I look ridiculous!” I yell back. I had let her pick out my outfit, and she picked out a short black romper with a tight bodice and flowers printed on it. I don’t think it suits me very well, and I’m seconds away from wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I don’t feel like doing my makeup, so that’s one less thing to worry about, at least.

Wait, why is it so quiet now? Where did she go?

“Y/n, this is your last chance,” she warns, apparently having took a quick break from peer pressuring me into coming outside.

“I’m. Not. Coming. Out.”

“Fine,” and for some reason, I can hear the smile in her voice. That’s never good.

“Y/n?” a new, softer, lower, more gravelly voice comes from outside my cabin. For fuck’s sake.

“Colt?” I ask, rubbing my temple.

“Yeah. Can you please let me in?” he asks so sweetly, it would be impossible to say no.

I mentally punch myself before unlocking the door to my trailer, and of course, to no one’s surprise, he looks perfect. Jody must’ve scampered off, because now it’s just me and him. He’s wearing a white tank top underneath a completely unbuttoned black short sleeved button down, black slacks and white shoes. His usual necklace, the gold chain with the small medallion, accompanies the look. His hair is tousled, and I don’t even think I have to mention how pretty his face is- that part’s a given.

“I, um, you-,” he stutters, and then stops to compose himself. “You look beautiful.”

My breath hitches in my throat. The thing about Colt is that if his words aren’t sarcastic- and you can tell when they are- they’re so, so genuine. And he just called me beautiful.

“I- thanks- so do you-“

Did I really just say so do you? By the smile creeping on his face I think I did.

“I’m sorry, I’m being awkward,” I say with an awkward laugh, proving my point. “But you look really handsome.”

“Aw shucks,” he says, his words slightly sarcastic but the blush on his face very real. “Now cmon, we don’t want to be late?”

“But this romper looks so stupid,” I say, drawing out the last word. And you look so stupidly attractive, I think. What if I just kiss him? What’s stopping me from telling him how I feel about him?

“Permission to touch you?” he asks, ignoring my comment.

To… touch me? Fuck, I’ve read far too many romance books. His stupid voice can turn anything into a double entendre, I swear it.

He raises a brow when I don’t answer.

“Uh, sure?” I don’t really know what he’s up to.

“Great,” he smirks, and before I can realize what he’s done he has me slung over his shoulder, like I weigh nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He shuts my trailer behind him as I hit his back, telling me to let me down, but the bastard just starts humming “Livin’ On A Prayer,” by Bon Jovi.

“Asshole! Put me down!” I yelp, but he just holds me steady by my legs as I flail behind him. Curse his actually useful muscles.

Finally, he sets me down in front of his truck, reaching out to steady me. My hands fall on his chest. His very well defined chest. Which perfectly matched his very well defined back.

Colt’s POV

My hand is on her hip, I tried to steady her. But shit. I wish I could just squeeze it, maybe while I’m…

Puppies dying at the end of a movie, Colt. Dead puppies.

We stay there a moment, in front of my truck. Everything in me wants to just tell her how I feel and press her into that truck with kisses that tell her I’m never letting her go. But now doesn’t feel like the right time. But when is? Why wasn’t it at her trailer?

And I just had her over my shoulder too…

Alright, come on, dipshit. Get it together.

But of course, her small hands are on my chest…

Focus.

“You’ve got two options,” I tell her, removing my hand from her hip and holding up a two to make a point. “We go to karaoke and I drive, or we go to karaoke and you drive.”

I can’t let her not go. She loves karaoke, and she looks beautiful regardless of the lies she tells herself.

“Do we have to go? We could just stay home and watch a movie?” she diverts. A smile is playing at her lips though, so at least I know she’s not uncomfortable.

“Tell you what. You can drive,” I start, which is a great start because she hates when I drive and use my stunt skills. To be fair I just do them to show off and get her to slide into me on the long bench. It’s fun, sue me. “We’ll go, and if you still don’t want to be there after my song, then we’re going to come straight back here, get under some blankets and watch She’s All That.”

She’s All That is her favorite movie, in part due to the main plot but I also think she identifies with Freddy Prince Jr’s sister in the movie. She’s a sarcastic makeup/hair artist in the movie, and who do I know that sounds like that? Yeah, exactly.

“I don’t like how well you know me,” she says, biting into her lip as she pretends to mull over what I suggested.

“You’re right, you love how well I know you.”

“Okay, fine,” she says, fully smiling now. “You were serious about me driving?”

“As a heart attack,” I tell her.

‘YES!’ I’m shouting in my head, because I nailed it! Getting a smile like that out of her is the best prize you could ever get, I swear it.

I think the only thing that could be better is knowing that she’s mine.

But that’ll come, eventually.

***

Reader’s POV

Ten minutes later we’re at karaoke. I truly cannot with Colt Seavers, the only person who could make me feel pretty in this stupid ass romper.

He spent the car ride talking to me about his day, which was adorable, the way his nose scrunches up when he remembers something funny, and intermittently singing along to the song on the radio. I love when he lets me drive his truck, I feel like I can taken care of him for a minute and just listen to him. Oh, and I also don’t feel like I’m seconds away from dying because unlike him I don’t stunt drive. Although, I will say, I don’t mind when he does those stupid circles because it always presses me up against his side, which is never a bad place to be.

Right now Gale, the producer who always seems to be drinking a Diet Coke, is singing Toxic by Britney Spears. She has an incredible voice, and the entire bar is rightfully captivated by her stage presence.

“Hey! You made it!” Jody says, walking over to Colt and I. We’re sitting in a booth, on the same side, both slack jawed watching Gale.

“No thanks to you,” I say with an innocent smile.

“If you say so,” she smirks. “Thanks for getting her out of the trailer,” she tells Colt.

“My pleasure,” he says charmingly, squeezing my arm.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Phil Collins is calling!” she dashes off to the stage as Gale is almost done with her song. She must be cued next.

“I see what you did there!” Colt comments after her. Collins and “calling” sound similar with her British accent. I must be blushing-the whole “lovebirds” thing-, because he looks over at me, amused, saying “What? Do I have something on my face?”

I go to answer, but all of a sudden Jody is singing “You’ll Be In My Heart” by Phil Collins, and I immediately pull out my phone to video. Jody has an incredible voice as well, and I love listening to her sing.

Once she’s done, she runs over with Sheila in tow, who must’ve just got here. They lift me up out of the booth- I’m starting to get sick of being man handled- and push me towards the stage against my protests. Colt is laughing- jackass- but all of a sudden “Any Way You Want It” by Journey is playing and I’m singing.

Now, I have a mediocre voice, but the thing about karaoke is that you could sound like a rabid raccoon, but if you have a song that everyone knows, you’re the shit. And also, I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me, so I just went for it.

So naturally, I was the shit. Everyone was singing along, and I couldn’t stop looking back at Colt, who was smiling so big as he sung along. He’s so, so cute. Finally the song was over, and I gave a dramatic bow. Colt met me by the stage, holding a hand for me to grab as I jumped down.

“You were incredible,” he compliments sweetly.

“Thanks,” I say, looking up at him, my hand still in his. His touch is electric, I can feel his heartbeat. His lips are ever so slightly parted, and I’m sure mine are the same… if he would just lean down-

“Is there a Colt “See-aye-vers” in the house?” the emcee asks into the microphone, completely mispronouncing Colt’s last name.

“Fucking Jody,” he mutters. We both turn to see Jody literally cackling by Sheila.

“Your turn!” I say gleefully, pointing at him so the emcee can see him.

“Mean,” he pouts jokingly, before going up on the stage and taking the mic from the emcee as I Was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss begins to play.

And he’s staring right at me as he sings it.

Well shit.

That’s the thing- apparently all of my coworkers are extremely talented singers. Maybe it was a requirement? Who knows.

Colt is no different.

And the thing is, I’m severely attracted to his voice. The gravelly, yet low and softness of it. I love listening to him talk. Like, he could read the nutrition label of a soup can and I would be completely locked in.

His singing voice? A whole other story. Between the rasp and the range, I could literally lose it right here and now. He sounds incredible.

And he’s looking right at me as sings about being made for lovin’ someone and about that someone being made for lovin’ him.

And I don’t want to assume, but by the way he’s looking at me…

I think that someone is me.

Colt’s POV

Kiss?! Are you shitting me?! That’s the song Jody picks for me?

I should’ve kissed y/n right then and there, I’m thinking as I head up to the stage.

And then there it is. A Kiss song. Not just any kiss song, the Kiss song.

I can work with this.

At this point, I don’t think I can handle her not knowing how I feel anymore. Not knowing if she feels the same way. Fuck “eventually.”

So you know what? I’m going to do my grand romantic act, just like in the movies. And I’m going to sing this damn song, to her.

And if she still doesn’t notice, I’m going to go down there and kiss her until we can’t think straight. Asking permission to before, of course. I’m not a jackass like Ryder.

So I sing the damn song, and my eyes are on only one, singular person. My one, singular person.

And she’s mouthing the words right back to me, her gaze never leaving mine.

I don’t even hear the applause as I jump down the stage, Tom Cruise style, landing right in front of her. “Hey,” I say, trying to sound cool.

Naturally, my voice comes out as a squeak instead.

She doesn’t say anything, just takes a step closer.

“I, um…”

Of course now is the time I decide to choke on my words. Not when I’m singing in front of thirty people, literally never before. But now. Damn it, Seavers. See-aye-vers. Fucking adhd. Shit. Wait.

“Colt?” she says, her voice only loud enough for me to hear. I’m all too aware of the beginning of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” behind me.

“Yeah?” I whisper. Looking down at her.

“Kiss me?” she asks, and it’s the last straw. My lips crash against hers before I even realize what I’m doing, and it feels like fireworks. Like the whole world could end but it would be fine because her lips are against mine.

***

Reader’s POV

This isn’t happening. There’s no way this happening.

Those are the only thoughts running through my head as I look at him. That song… it was electric. Coming from his voice, as he stared into my soul? I can barely think.

I don’t notice anything, nor anyone. Nothing at all, except for him.

So when he jumps down from the stage in stuntman fashion, looking me in the eyes up close… I can’t help it. I can’t wait any longer.

And now his lips are on mine, as Jody sings more Phil Collins, but I don’t even hear it.

I’m sure we’re going to get teased for it, but I can’t help it.

Not when the only thing I can sense is his soft lips on mine.

So when we finally release, there’s no question about what’s going to happen next.

“Colt..?” I breathe.

“Yeah?” he asks, parted lips already puffy and pink from our kiss. Gorgeous.

“Can we go outside?”

He doesn’t even answer, just grabs my hand and starts walking to the door. Thankfully we didn’t buy any drinks, and have no tabs to settle, because quite honestly I don’t think we’d have cared.

Finally, we stop in front of his truck. I’m smiling like an idiot, and he’s smiling right back.

“Colt, I really, really like you,” I tell him.

“Y/n, I really, really like you too,” he says.

And that’s all that needs to be said as he crowds me against the truck before pressing a kiss to my lips that leaves me giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he teases.

“Everything,” I tell him, before threading my fingers through his hair. He shakes his head bemusedly before kissing me again.

I couldn’t ask for anything more, anything more at all. Because in the words of his favorite song, this is a Love Story and baby, I will always say yes.

[runningthroughthegarden]

love in the moonlight

summary: filming on the set of scream vi was all fun and games. until you started falling head over heels for your best friend. confessing your love in the moonlight was not at all what you expected to be doing.

word count: 1.2k fluff!!

"ugh i don't know what to do!!" you whine, falling back on the sofa in the makeup trailer.

"hey you already know what im going to suggest" jenna giggles as the makeup artist does some final touches.

"i can't just walk up to him and be all like 'oh by the way im like super in love with you' " you explain.

"no that's exactly what you need to do!" jenna pleads. she walks over to you, flopping down beside you.

"but what if i tell him and ruin the whole friendship thing" you whisper, turning your head to meet jenna's eyes.

"oh my god. have you seen the way he looks at you?? that man is in love. i guarantee it."

you look away from her, staring back up at the ceiling wondering how you got into this situation.

-

wrapping up your final scene for the day you head back to your trailer. not much to your surprise jack is already outside waiting for you. he;s leaning against the side of the trailer as his skin glows from the moonlight. you can't help but stare for a moment to take him all in.

"hey pretty girl! all done?" he asks, a smiling spreading across his face at the sight of you.

"mhm im so tired" you respond opening the door to your trailer. while also hiding the blush on your face from the nickname.

"you wanna get changed and go back to my place?" jack asks.

"yeah ofc! just give me a couple minutes!"

soon after you open your trailer back up making sure to turn everything off. putting your tote bag on your shoulder, you gesture to jack signaling your ready to go.

"how were your scenes today?" you ask while walking

"they were really good!! except at one point i bumped into this extra and i felt so bad. i think i made up for it by giving her my number though. she was really pretty" he explains with a giggle.

"oh, yeah that was nice" you fake a smile as you feel your heart sink.

-

you soon arrive back at jack's place, where you found yourself spending a lot of time. dropping your tote bag, you immediately fall back onto jack's bed.

"well someone is tired" jack laughs glancing over at you.

"movie night?" you smile while getting more comfortable.

"you know it!"

jack puts on one of your favorite movies and joins you in bed. you two had always done stuff like this but for some reason tonight felt different. jack begins talking pulling you away from your anxious thoughts.

"hey so i was thinking maybe you could help me text that girl i was telling you about" he asks while handing you his phone.

"oh yeah um sure" you say taking the phone in your hand.

"so what do you want to say" you question.

"do you think its too soon to ask her on a date?"

you try to keep your composure hearing those words come out of his mouth.

"uhm maybe not" you whisper feeling tears brim your eyes.

"okay maybe start with 'hey! i think you're super gorgeous and i was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me?' " he finishes.

you stare at the phone for a second feeling all your composure slowly break down.

"i'm too nervous to send it you do it" jack giggles fidgeting with his fingers.

"i can't im sorry" you say, a tear threatening to slip from your eye.

"what?" he questions at your sudden mood change.

feeling hot tears down your face you quickly try to get out of the room. why were you so worked up? why were you crying over such a small gesture he was making? why were you making a fool of yourself? god this was so stupid.

jack very quickly notices your distress. you're already walking out of his room before he can even get the chance to ask what's wrong. all he does is stare in shock as you gather all your belongings.

"hey hey what are you doing? what's wrong?" he questions, you can hear the full distress and concern in his voice.

"i just really need to go home" you say giving his phone back. this is the first look of you he's been able to see since you started freaking out. he grows even more worried when he sees your glassy eyes and red nose.

"was it something i did? what can i do to help?" he pleads.

"nothing i promise i just really need to go" you respond, you can feel your voice betraying you as your vision becomes blurrier.

"okay well at least let me drive you home" he says reaching for his keys on the counter.

"no jack please just let me go" you slightly raise your voice.

he stays silent and you take this opportunity to walk out the front door. quickly calling a cab, you feel your face cool as the cold wind hits your tear-stained cheeks.

"okay i tried to be considerate and let you go but i just can't. seriously what's wrong. please tell me i just want to help" he pleads.

you slowly turn around to face him. faces just inches apart, you stare into the same eyes you've loved for so long. you let your eyes roam his features, just taking him in. his cheeks and nose slowly turning a bright pink from the cold wind.

"i'm in love with you jack" you finally confess.

“and i have been for a really long while, i just never knew how to tell you" you whisper, growing insecure. he doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity and you very quickly regret everything that has just happened.

going to turn around you are very quickly interrupted by jack's strong hands snaking around your waist pulling you closer. shocked by his movement you stare at him wide eyed. staring into each other's eyes he closes the gap and meets your lips. taking a few seconds to register what the hell is happening you very quickly kiss back.

wrapping your arms around his neck trying to get any closer you could possibly be. hands roaming his curls as his hold your waist even tighter. breaking away from the kiss you take a moment to process.

"im in love with you too" he finally confesses.

taking a moment to process everything, your thoughts finally catch up to you. "why didn't you do that like forever ago?!" you yell pushing his chest.

"what?!" he questions, confused at yet another sudden change in emotion.

"i've literally spent so much time going insane over you" you laugh.

"what!!! i've been going insane! i have been sending so many signals but you're oblivious or something!" he responds laughing as well.

"okay so we're even" you smile.

"one more thing and we're even" he responds, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

"so you're not going out with that girl right?" you question, putting your arms around his neck to hold him closer.

"oh she wasn't real i was just trying to make you jealous" he calmly explains.

"jack!! oh my god i hate you" you say in disbelief.

"mmm you just said you love me" he responds with a fake confused face.

"oh shut up" you giggle, pulling him in a for another kiss.

and there you were, two teenagers in love kissing in the moonlight.

[brooooswriting]

Can you write something about Melissa Barrera with a reader who’s shorter than her? :)

Yo shorty

Melissa Barrera x reader

You Met Melissa on the set of scream 6, you were her makeup artist and it was great. She was always very nice and polite, she was on time, didn’t stress you, wasn’t mad if something didn’t work out the first time and was always easy to talk to. You and her were a dream team all of the people you work with always told you which made both of you blush, but truth be told you were a great team. 90% of the time you were the first that were done, there was always laughter filling your trailer and you barely needed a second try on anything by now.

At some point your relationship with Melissa turned into more of a friendship, while everybody else had conversations about the set you were talking about your love life, her family and friends, just everything to the point where your colleagues started shipping you two.

Funny thing though, you have never been with Melissa when she was standing, she already sat in your Trailer when you came back with the makeup you needed and you often left the trailer before her. And due to her full schedule you had never met outside of set, even though that was planned.

The first time was when your co worker had a doctors appointment later that day so you had to change shifts, she would do her make up in the morning and you’d stay on set for fixes during the scene.

It seemed like nobody notified Melissa as she was utterly confused why nobody came running in way too late and hugging her sitting figure as a ‘hello’ and a ‘sorry for the delay’. “where’s y/n?” She asked as she sat down, ready to get her make up done. “We had to switch shifts, but hello to you too” anna, your coworker, grinned as she started with the foundation. “Oh you know I didn’t mean it like that” the brunette joked, sad that she didn’t see you in the morning.

She first saw you that day when you were coming on set, running again because you were late, crushing into her as a hello, your normal greeting by now. Except that this time Melissa didn’t have to look up to you, no she had to crane her neck to look down at you. About 20 cm under her line of eye, were you standing hugging her waist. She knew that you’d be smaller than her but she never thought that you were that small. Her arms wrapped around your shoulder nonetheless, she was slightly giggling while the rest of the cast was awing. “What are you laughing about?” You asked when you finally parted, “nothing, just your lateness” she lied, she didn’t want to point out the obvious. “Very funny” you grumbled as you pulled out a brush with fake blood on it to fix her forehead, the only problem was that even when you stretched your arm you couldn’t quiet touch her forehead the right way to fix the makeup. Jasmin immediately laughed out loud, Mason awed again while Jenna looked at you like she could relate.

This time Melissa wasn’t just giggling she was full on laughing, “want me to bend down?” She grinned at you making you roll your eyes. “Well you can bend down or I can punch you in the stomach so you have to bend over in pain” you deadpanned, Jenna smiling proudly. “Uhh, you got a feisty one Mel” Jasmin laughed again, you turned your head and raised an eyebrow at her which made her shut up and take a step back. “Let’s do my makeup over there” she grabbed your hand and pulled you behind a wall, sitting down on a chair which gave you better access to her face. “It’s cute that you’re so small” she muttered out, it wasn’t uncommon for her to flirt with her but you still blushed and mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ to her. When you pulled the brush away her hands grabbed your small waist, pulling you closer to the point where you sat on her lap, this was new. “Let me take you on a date” she spoke out causing you to freeze, the fact that you didn’t answer made her keep talking, “come on, we’ve been flirting the whole time and I promise I’ll treat you right, I’ll spoil you, love you and I’ll defend you when somebody makes fun of your height” you couldn’t help but laugh out at the last part. “Wouldn’t that be unprofessional?” You asked scared that this might get you fired, “it’s fine, I’ll talk to the producers alright? So can I pick you up tonight?” Your faces was tomato red and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded causing her to smile. “I’ll be there at 8”

Your first date was great, you got something to eat and just talked. After that followed 5 dates in the next 5 days, you couldn’t stop seeing each other. Both of you had wanted this since you started filming, you still decided to keep it on the low and not tell anybody right away. At least until your 7th date.

You slept over at Melissa’s, you had drunken a bit and she didn’t want you to drive so you decided to stay, being the gentlewomen she is she wanted to sleep on the couch but after a short discussion you shared the bed. She was nervous, which was pretty cute to you, you had to grab her arm and wrap it around your waist to indicate that cuddling was fine. That night you spent in her arms as the little spoon, due to the cold weather her body heat warmed you perfectly, especially because her body engulfed yours nearly completely.

The only problem was that you forgot to set your own alarm, you woke up to the actress’s alarm. “Mhm, turn that off” she grumbled into your neck her arms pulling you closer by the waist, you stretched your arm out to stop the alarm until you saw the time. “Fuck” you yelled out and jumped out of bed, “what’s wrong?” She asked quickly sitting up too, “it’s 5 am, I have to be there in 30 minutes, we have a conference today” you explained doing the math in your head, there was no way that you would have time to get home and get dressed and you couldn’t wear the dress you wore yesterday for the date, it was way to revealing for work. “It will be fine, you can wear some of mine cloths” she said, standing up and opening her closet. “Everything will be way to big on me” you pouted but it was your last option any way.

So Melissa found a pair of boyfriend jeans that were too short for her and you put on a hoodie from her and your chucks. You looked okay, but you felt awesome as the cloths smelled like her. “I gotta go, I’ll see you at 6 am right?” She nodded as she gave you a to go cup with coffee in it. “Alright, see ya later” you said and stood in your tippy toes signaling her that you wanted a goodbye kiss. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips while her hand rested on your waist, squeezing lightly. After a couple more kisses you finally parted.

You ran towards the conference room at 5:32 am, you were late but at least it was only 5 minutes. “Sorry, lots of traffic” you said as you speed walked towards your seat. “Aren’t those cloths way to big for you?” Anna who sat next to you mumbled out. “No, I ordered oversized ones” you lied keeping your eyes on the producer. Your coworker decided to let it slide this time turning back towards the producer.

When you walked out of the meeting it was 5:55am, “well, I’m gonna go get Mel ready” you said and walked to the trailer where Jasmin and your date already sat. “Nice cloths y/n” Jasmin called after you making you blush, “thanks, they’re new” you lied taking some makeup out of the shelf’s. “Really? I didn’t know they sold hoodies with the writing ‘Barrera’ on it” she laughed causing you to blush and for the first time you looked down and saw her name written on it. “You guys are so cute, but chill I won’t tell a soul” she added and you thanked her before walking to Melissa who was trying to stop laughing.

“You ass! You gave me that hoodie! You knew that your name was on it!” You hit her shoulder making her laugh even more, “well it’s cute” she only said before kissing you softly. “Shut up and turn so I can do your hair” you grumbled out.

“I gotta ask you something” Melissa spoke up as you sat on her couch watching football, “shoot” you mumbled turning your head away from the TV in front of you. “Well, you know that the premier of my new movie is gonna be soon right?” She asked and you nodded, “yes, I can do your make up” you laughed and kissed her cheek but she only shook her head. “No, I want you to come with me… as my girlfriend” she said. You stopped in shock only starring at her. “Your…girlfriend?” You repeated and she nodded. A smile formed on your face, and you threw yourself onto her lap kissing her as a ‘yes’.

Two weeks later you stood on the red carpet with her, her arm mostly resting on your head as a armrest making the others laugh while you grumbled. When the pictures turned serious she hugged you from behind, her arms around your waist and your head tucked under hers. “I love you shorty” she mumbled into your hair. You turned around and kissed her with your hands on her neck, “I love you too you asshole” you mumbled before turning back.

[bingiessm]

OKAY More Bridgerton season 3 trailer thoughts, these are both sort of random, partially analysis, partially conspiracy-y. The second part is more direct analysis of two shots in the trailer though.

Okay, so because of this trailer, I don't know for sure if Benedict's season will be season 4--or, at least, I am curious as to how they will bring about his romance this season to set up season 4 after so little inkling as to his romance. Francesca dominates this trailer in terms of romance--literally the first shot in this trailer of anyone in the Bridgerton family is of Francesca--not even Colin, who's season it is.

The spotlight is also completely on her and--as we see in this trailer--a spotlight means quite a lot in terms of romance. (ex: Penelope and Debling dancing with the spotlight just on her, and the Cupid/Psyche spotlight on the dance floor, etc.)

Benedict is not featured romantically at all. Actually, he is not seen in the second part of the trailer, which is when there is a shift to romance. Also in almost all promos, he is not seen in a romantic light, but rather a playful one as compared to Francesca, who is debuting and dancing with suitors, etc. Could they be hiding this for the actual season? Oh, for sure, I definitely think so. But, also considering how seasons are going and the balance they might want to have with their Bridgerton leads, they might not want to do 3 seasons in a row with the Bridgerton brothers as the main leads? Just a thought, though.

Francesca's story just might end up being the foil to Colin/Penelope's story this season, which would be interesting. I also wonder how that will develop if Benedict is the lead for Season 4. We have to wait and see.

---------

SECOND THOUGHT: You did not need this shot of this actress in this edit--it is a choice to have her here.

This is a sort of longer shot--these two are a whole 4 seconds. That might not seem like a lot of time, but for two shots with minimal movement--two close up/OTS (over the shoulder) shots--within a less than 3 minute trailer, that is a lot of time.

I have seen some people online argue that they wanted to show that this wasn't Penelope and that they are trying to show him being more of a "charmer" as he returns from his trip to highlight his glow-up--as this section of the trailer does. This is true, BUT you already had her in the frame in that first shot and she is clearly not Penelope. It would have been enough to just have him kiss her hand if you wanted to demonstrate this. Maybe they want to show that he doesn't charm everyone--he isn't the typical "rake"--and just wanted to focus on one woman? Sure. But, they could have had a wider shot--they could have included others that weren't marriage-able women, like this character's family. Instead, they have a whole frame dominated by one actress who we do not know--a reverse of the first shot that keeps the focus on THEIR dynamic, THEIR faces, not on Colin's relationship with women in general.

The audio for this sequence is also just the music for these full 4 seconds. It is a choice to not have dialogue. When you don't have dialogue, the audience pays more attention to what they have available--the visuals. This draws direct attention to these two.

Listen, I am not saying 100% that she is going to be a huge part of this season, BUT I don't think she'll just be a one-off, maybe slightly more featured. I could be wrong, but everything is a choice in film and especially when releasing a trailer for a series, you are deliberate in what you do and do not show.

One other note, the next audio that comes up is Benedict talking about Colin's "sturdiness," which immediately associates the two. Yes, this is to focus on Colin's change, but hey it's there and we all are looking for hints as to who Benedict's love interest will be.

Okay, second Bridgerton ramble done, thank you! Also, who is this actress? She is beautiful!

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 1

Since I am in the middle of a poll about how to end “Can Anybody See Me?” (which you can vote on here) I am putting it on pause until it finishes on Saturday. I’ll still be working on it, I just won’t be posting until after it’s done. (Which if it keeps going like it is, end of season 4).

This story started out as a beautiful (and SHORT) story about Steve taking Eddie to the Ozzy Osborne/Metalica concert and turned into a full on season 4 fix-it (it’s 6000+ and counting *wails*).

Summary: Steve realizes after the aftermath of Vecna that he’s in love with Eddie. When he finds out that he was trying to get enough money to get to the Ozzy Osborne/Metallica concert in Indy in a week, he decides to woo Eddie via the most important concert of Eddie’s young life.

*

Things had gotten a little hairy when the demobats tried to break through the vents of the trailer. Eddie looked up at the sheet ladder and then back out at the sounds of screeching and scrambling as the bats fought to get to him and Dustin.

He knew they had no way to close the gate on the other side. That once the bats got into the trailer the wide world of Hawkins would be next. They would be next. He sighed. He knew what he had to do. With a heavy heart and broad swipe of his spear he cut the ladder.

Eddie zipped up his jacket and grabbed his shield and spear. He led the demobats away on one of the bikes. Got pretty damn far before the tire hit a divot in the hell space known as the Upside-Down. He rolled into the dirt and tried to get up. The shield and spear tangled together making it hard to stand. Once he was able to get to his feet he roared at the bats.

Eddie was able to stand his ground for a while but he started to wear out. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. What was taking them so long?

And then it happened the swarm came at him full force and he was knocked to the ground. He brought up his hands and knees trying to protect as much of his body as he could. But they were relentless. Just when he thought all hope was gone, suddenly the bats fell.

The air was filled with screaming of a different kind now and it sounded like his name.

He brought down his arms and looked up to see Dustin kneeling over him crying.

“Hey, bud,” Eddie whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Why would you do that?” Dustin screamed. “Why?”

Eddie reached out and cupped his cheek. “Because they were breaking through. They were going to get you.”

“We could have fought them together,” Dustin choked out.

Eddie shook his head. “Steve would have killed me if you got hurt.”

“Damn right I would have,” Steve said.

Dustin stood up, whirling around to face him. “Steve! Eddie’s hurt!”

Steve rushed over and immediately pulled out the first aid kit they bought when they got their other supplies.

“What did I tell you about not being a hero, Munson?” Steve growled as he pulled out bottled water and gauze.

“Dustin...” Eddie gurgled.

Steve looked up at his face and swore. “Shit! They got you good.” He set down the gauze and pulled out a large cotton pad and pressed it to Eddie’s neck.

“Dustin,” Steve snapped, “We need to find a way to transport him. Are you able to do that for me?”

Dustin nodded and immediately got on the bike Eddie had biffed on. The front tire was a bit wobbly but it would do in a pinch.

Robin and Nancy came running up. Robin skidded to a stop and turned away, suddenly ill. Nancy was at Steve’s side in an instant.

“Hold down the pad,” Steve bit out. “I need it in place so I can wrap it.”

She nodded and took over holding the pad to the bleeding coming from Eddie’s neck. Steve quickly wrapped the gauze around it and then unzipped the jacket.

Eddie coughed. “Take me out to dinner first, jeez, Harrington.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Steve murmured. “Just please shut up for once in your god damned life. So I can save it.”

Eddie smiled, showing blood on his teeth.

“Fuck!” Steve cursed. “I hope you didn’t like this jacket, man. It’s pretty much gone at this point.”

The demobats had shredded the jacket’s sleeves and even one or two had gotten past the many layers Eddie had on. But the bites were shallow. Not like Steve’s.

His legs were a bit worse for wear too.

Just then Dustin had come back with a metal covering that they had used to shore up the trailer, dragging behind the bike.

Steve looked up and smiled. “Good job, Dusty!” He turned to his best friend. “Robin!”

She glanced at Eddie and then turned her head up so she wasn’t looking at him directly. “He’s bad, Steve.”

“I know, but I need all four of us to carry him,” he explained softly. “Can you do that for me?”

She looked him in the eye. “Yeah. For Eddie.”

They managed to get him on the makeshift stretcher and Nancy stepped up to grab one of the corners.

Steve held out his hand. “Wait! We need to keep it as level as possible. Dustin you take that corner. Nancy you go out in front and find us the safest path.”

Nancy opened her mouth to protest but she knew he was right. She was much shorter than the rest of them and it would only hurt Eddie more.

“Why can’t we just drag him behind the bike?” Dustin asked, still doing what he was told.

“Because we need to move fast but smooth,” Steve said. “Everyone at three, lift. One, two, three!” They all lifted together.

“The bike would be smooth,” Dustin protested.

“Not for Eddie,” Steve said. “Now, move.”

They walked as fast as they could to the nearest gate. Which unfortunately was the Lover’s Lake gate.

Steve stopped in front of the gate and closed his eyes tightly. “Right, Eds,” he murmured. “This is where you get off the ride.”

Eddie made a sound that vaguely resembled a chuckle.

“How are we going to get him through the gate?” Robin asked, shifting nervously from side to side.

“You and Nancy are going to go up first and get the boat,” Steve explained. “Then Dustin will swim to the surface. He’ll come get me once you two are in place.”

“Where is this coming from?” Nancy asked. “I thought you weren’t the planning type.”

Steve took a deep breath and pretended that didn’t hurt.

“No, no,” Robin said waving her hands. “He’s good at emergency shit like this. Like, really good.”  

“It’s all the first aid training,” Steve said tamping down on the anger that threatened to rise to the surface. “Now go. I’ll send Dustin up in ten minutes.”

Dustin looked down at Eddie. “Ten minutes is too long, Steve.”

Steve grabbed Dustin’s arms. “It’ll be enough. I’m not going to let him die on us, I promise.”

Dustin nodded and watched as Robin and Nancy dove through the gate.

Ten minutes later Dustin did too. About a minute after that, Dustin was back to help Steve bring Eddie back to the surface.

They struggled but were able to get Eddie onto the boat. Once they got to shore they were able to call for an ambulance.

The four of them watched as Eddie was taken to the hospital.

Steve took a deep breath. “Right. We need to clean up and get to the hospital.”

“No.”

Steve looked at Nancy. “There is an ambulance coming for you, too. I want those bites looked at by professional.”

Steve wanted to argue but as the adrenaline wore off, he swayed on his feet.

Robin caught him before he fell. “We’ll call...” she stopped. There wasn’t anyone for her to call. Not for Steve. The people that would care were all here.

“Wayne Munson,” Nancy finished. “Let him know Eddie’s at the hospital from an animal attack. We’ll also radio the party and all meet up at the hospital.”

Distantly he could here the sounds of the sirens coming for him before his world went black.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[sublimecatgalaxy]

Maybe a cute simple request would be coming home to Eddie after a long day and kinda just collapsing on the couch and he's sweet to you and babies you a little.

(I had a long day yesterday because I went to lectures and then had to wait around on campus to write my psychology test from 5:30pm to 7pm so I only got home at 8 and would have loved to collapse and get some cuddles😅🩷)

I GOT YOU BUBS!

My feet are heavy as they drag against the carpeted floor of Eddie's trailer, the shower squeaking off in the other room alerting me that he's aware of my tired presence. There's shuffling for a few moments in the bathroom as I set my stuff down and strip myself of my clothes, slipping into comfier pajamas in a moments notice.

"Hey, I heard you come in, how was your day-" He pauses in the hallway, looking at me with soft eyes, suddenly so aware of the weight on my shoulders and he frowns. "Rough day?"

"Colossal shit of a day." I huff, falling into him immediately when he wraps his arms around me, strong arms pulling me up and against him and I feel all of my worries drain away for just a moment before returning in full swing.

"Wow, never heard that one before." He laughs, the chuckle rumbling against my cheek as he sits us down on the couch, pulling me into his side as he clicks the tv on, a mindless show appearing on the crackled, staticky screen. "What can I do?" He asks sincerely against the top of my head, peppering kisses against my hairline as I settle further into him.

"Hold me." I mutter against his chest, pulling a laugh from him.

"I'm doing that." He whispers, rubbing my back slowly and affectionately as if he's soothing a frustrated child and, to be honest, I'm not that far off. I'm grumpy, I'm at the end of my rope, I'm tired beyond belief- all I really need is cuddles and...

"Food?" I offer, peering up at him through my lashes, loving the beaming smile that spreads across his lips at the request and he nods, cupping my cheek in his calloused hand.

"Beer?"

"Both." I can feel my body relaxing as he shifts from under me, helping me lay my heavy body down onto the sunken in couch beneath me.

"I've got you."

[ghostinthegallery]

Okay I have shared my thoughts on every other necron guy with a name and a model, might as well finish the set.

Iluminor Szeras it is finally your turn!

I was honestly waiting to see if Pariah Nexus added anything new to his character for me to chew on. As I suspected, it added nothing and THANK GOD for that! This guy is pure, uncut, villain. He is not a character, he is a problem and I hate (love) him!

Look, 40k is a grimdark universe. Full of bad things happening to maybe okay people or bad people or a combination and sure a lot of stories and characters grapple with the existential dread of living in a universe where 99% of everything either wants you dead or wants you way worse than dead. That's all compelling.

But you need someone to be the terror, the thing that lurks in the darkness, the monster you never, ever want to run into. For my money, Szeras plays that role better than almost anyone in the setting. His design is the perfect combo of monstrous and intimidating (and he's just one of the best models in the necron range). He tortures every living being he can get his hands on for fun and "science." He can strip your soul away and make it hurt (probably more than necessary). And he's an immortal skeleton spider robot the size of a small tank with needles on command!

Szeras is literally the guy that made biotransference happen. He destroyed his own species! And did he learn anything from this? About hubris or toying with people's lives or thinking through the consequences of his works? Nope! In fact he wants to do it all over again but better this time probably maybe. He just wants to be a god! Is that too much to ask?

Don't get me wrong, he does have a personality. It is just every cliched villain trope imaginable. Arrogant, cruel, abuses his subordinates (pariah nexus did confirm that at least, never say it added nothing). Still brilliant, but he loves to let his evilness get in his own way just a little. Keep things interesting. He has that classic necron He is literally offended that people don't line up for the science torture, because he's just so much better than them. Classic, old school necron nonsense. He's ungodly petty (even though he insists he had moved past all that). Also he really hates Orikan?

(excerpt comes from one of the Psychic Awakening shorts for anyone curious)

And the thing is, this all totally works (for my money at least). Because every time Szeras shows up, the audience immediately tenses. Trust me, I am speaking from experience. You want to freak people out, just toss Szeras in at the end of a chapter or in a trailer or anywhere in close proximity of someone your audience doesn't want vivisected. Instant stakes!

Sometimes that's all a character has to be. A fun threat to throw at a situation to see how it gets worse. He is terrible, I love him, I grin and grimace every time I see him around.

That said, he is THE WORST MODEL I HAVE EVER HAD TO ASSEMBLE AND PAINT and for that I do curse his name forevermore.

[thecaroliner]

NATLA: An Extremely Mediocre Mess

I spent the entire day watching Netflix's ATLA adaptation and oh boy was it...something.

I struggle sometimes with putting my full thoughts into words but here goes. No idea how long this will be.

Spoilers ahead, obviously.

I want to start out by getting a few things I thought were good or at least fine out of the way.

First off I wanna mention the acting (aside from Gran Gran) was fine. I think Gordon Cormier has a lot of potential and it really felt like sometimes he was being held back by the script and direction. Really hope this role opens up new doors for him in his acting career!

Not that I think ATLA needed more violence or anything, and initially I was against them adding more violence just to make it more "realistic", but I actually didn't mind it. It was way more gruesome than I thought it would be, both Sozin and Ozai literally set people on fire and burn them to a crisp. Kind of does help set in the actual horror of what they're doing. We even saw the same happen to Kya in a flashback. Again, this wasn't needed, but I didn't mind it.

The bending effects DID look a little better than in the trailers I thought. Firebending in particular I thought was decent, all the other elements were just okay, with waterbending I feel suffering the most from it. The rest of the CGI kind of sucked though which I'll get into later.

Having Gyatso be more of a presence I thought was nice, as I always felt like he could've been a little more to the front of Aang's mind in the original series than what he was. I honestly LOVE the idea of him hanging around in the Spirit World for Aang, as in the past I've thought of that idea and wished it had happened. Except....they just kind of throw this plotline away later for no reason. So that's great.

Lastly, it was neat to see Indian culture being represented in Omashu.

Now that that's out of the way....time to really dig in.

The series starts with the Air Nomad genocide, pretty brutal stuff but I don't have much to say about this aside from the moments with Gyatso being nice.

Aang can apparently just fly now, but he only really does it to show off in this first episode. Apparently it's because he's an Airbending prodigy, despite the fact that the ability to fly was established in LOK as being a very rare occurance that only comes after letting go of every earthly attachment. But sure, let's just have Aang fly now. Why even have his glider in the first place?

He gets frozen in pretty much the exact same way, which now leads us to the Southern Water Tribe, where Katara is practicing waterbending in secret in the abandoned Fire Nation ship. It's mentioned later that Sokka and Gran Gran forbid her from practicing bending in case the Fire Nation comes back and tries to kill her, which...sure, I guess.

They find Aang's iceberg, but since Sokka isn't sexist anymore, her anger at him isn't what opens the ice, it's her attempting to pull their canoe back to them and she accidentally splits the iceberg open.

Speaking of Sokka's sexism, remember when people were trying to say "Oh the show isn't getting rid of that arc, it's just updating it because a lot of moments in the original show were iffy!" Yeah, no, they got rid of that arc entirely. Which, honestly if they had just done that without making a big deal out of it in interviews wouldn't have been an issue. The issue is them trying to act as though the narrative of the show itself was sexist and not actively showing us that Sokka is in the wrong.

Anyways, Aang literally just falls out of the iceberg and it's lowkey funny cause he just slides out like he's going down a water slide.

They take him back to the village unconscious and once he wakes up, Gran Gran (who's acting was awful by the way. Not sure if it was the actress' fault or the direction, it really felt like the direction to me). She immediately recognizes Aang's tattoos and just tells him flatly that the Air Nomads are all dead. No compassion or anything. Oh, and she out of the blue begins narrating the original series' intro verbatim which was so out of place and funny. HEY REMEMBER THE OPENING FOR THE CARTOON?? THAT'S IN HERE TOO!!!!!

Weirdly enough....it almost felt like Sokka and Aang had more of a bond than Katara and Aang. Sokka was initially skeptical of Aang but then instantly wants to go save him and I swear they had more interactions than Aang did with Katara. The two of them don't even really feel like friends until the last two episodes or so.

Also, they go to the Southern Air Temple in the first episode where Katara doesn't calm Aang down from the Avatar State but rather a memory of Gyatso did. Okay....

Oh, this also had one more thing I liked, and it was Aang giving Gyatso a proper burial. I always assumed that happened at some point, whether during the series or sometime afterwards. Nice to see it here.

Okay, so my thoughts after this are just gonna skip around a bit because I was writing them down as I went. The first half the series really didn't have much egregiously wrong with it, it was mostly just mid.

It's mentioned briefly that...Aang's airbending went out of control sometimes? Like the reason he had to train with the monks was so that he would stop accidentally hurting his friends with airbending. Because why have the storyline of him accidentally hurt Katara with firebending when you could have this instead?

The like...purple and motion blur effects they used for the Spirit World scenes was such an eyestrain....

In the Spirit World, Kyoshi gives Aang a vision of the attack on the Northern Water Tribe. Before, Aang had no reason to even bother going here, because Katara is teaching herself waterbending (turns out Gran Gran had the waterbending scroll the whole time! But hid it from Katara til now). Aang also doesn't even attempt waterbending at all this season btw

The Gaang gets to Omashu, where they decide to combine The King of Omashu, Jet, The Northern Air Temple...and The Cave of Two Lovers. Despite this sounding clunky and weird, I think these storylines together actually did mesh well (except for the COTL, which OH BOY I WILL GET TO)

The idea here is that the Mechanist, whose name is now Sai (don't know if this was ever mentioned in any supplemental material or if it was just made up for this show) and Teo live here. Jet and the Freedom Fighters also live nearby, where they are trying to plant bombs around Omashu and make the Gaang think it's the Fire Nation.

One scene I wanna mention, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but I SWEAR Sai said he needed to control the "attitude" of the hot air balloon...not "altitude."

Aang ends up getting captured by Bumi's generals, and he almost immediately figures out who Bumi is. Which...I cannot believe Aang named his son after THIS Bumi. He's kind of a huge asshole and is mad at Aang for abandoning them for the past century. Like you really had to make the character angry at him Bumi???

So, um. Let's talk about the COTL plot now.

Katara and Sokka go to try and find Aang and find out that there's a series of elaborate tunnels underneath Omashu, where they run into the singing nomads. This was literally only a plotline so that they had an excuse to sing Secret Tunnel this season. They explain to the siblings the story of Oma and Shu (which is just verbatim from the original series), ending with "Love is brightest in the dark."

Remember that. They preface the storyline of the tunnels by explicitly telling Katara and Sokka about the two lovers. Very romantic.

Katara and Sokka quickly realize that the cave crystals glow in the dark and begin to follow the path. Love is brightest in the dark, right? Along they way they begin bickering because Katara feels like Sokka still sees and treats her like a child.

Eventually they get pursued by a badger mole who begins to chase them. They apologize to one another and hold hands as they think they're about to be killed but...the badger mole stops attacking.

Why does it stop attacking, you ask?

Because now apparently badger moles can feel human emotions. They don't like feeling people fight and want to feel the love between them instead.

I was LOSING IT at this part. "Love is brightest in the dark" was apparently metaphorical.

And don't get me wrong, I love seeing platonic and familial love portrayed in media...but like, to do this storyline...don't preface it with a romantic tale of two lovers????? It gives off a very unintentionally creepy vibe for the siblings. And I'm sure I don't have to explain why badger moles being able to sense love is just dumb as shit.

Moving on....Bumi is nice again. Yay.

They go to the town where Hei Bai is attacking and Aang somehow accidentally pulls Katara and Sokka into the spirit world with him because the writers also wanted to have The Swamp here. Oh, and the Koh storyline. He doesn't steal faces for showing emotion anymore either, he just captures people and eats them later and steals their faces then. Cool.

Oh, and Wan Shi Tong is there and he looks emaciated.

Katara relives the night her mom dies, while Sokka sees a mysterious looking fox in the forest. Initially I assumed this was one of Wan Shi Tong's knowledge seekers but oh no. Oh no, it is much, MUCH worse. We'll come back to it.

Aang manages to find Gyatso in the Spirit World, which again is an idea that I LOVE. Gyatso explains that after he died, he never moved on to the next cycle of enlightenment, instead choosing to stay in case Aang needed him. They have a really touching moment, and Aang promises to come find him again after he finds Katara and Sokka.........which we'll come back to.

The events of The Blue Spirit happen, not much to talk about here. Aang connects with Roku (apparently he can only connect with past Avatars at their respective shrines, btw) and finds out Roku stole a totem of The Mother of Faces from Koh and that's why Koh hates the Avatar. Why steal that totem?? Hell if I know. Roku's also a funny man now I guess.

Aang saves Katara and Sokka from being Koh food and all is well. Yay.

They finally get to the North and this is where the show really went from being mid to pure cringe for me.

The "women only learn healing" plot is still here. Katara is rightfully angry about it, but Aang's like "oh well maybe you should listen to them". Yes, really.

Here Aang is so worried about losing anyone else, which, obviously understandable. But he doesn't want Katara and Sokka, especially Katara, to fight AT ALL. Which I mean. OG Aang never once tried discouraging her from learning to fight. Obviously he loves her and does have concern for her safety a number of times throughout the show and comics, but he also knows she can kick ass and stand her ground on her own and never tries to stop her.

Katara fights Pakku, and despite literally the day before saying she still has a lot to learn and a long way to go, she's just instantly declared a master waterbender now!

And oh boy my friends, buckle in because now we're gonna talk about Yue.

First off...her wig looks BAD. Like I'm pretty certain I saw her real hair sticking through a few times. Why not just dye the actress' hair....even Shyamalan's Yue hairstyle looked better than this, and we all know what that looked like.

So right off the bat Sokka asks Katara if Yue is at all familiar. Katara says no but Sokka keeps pressing and eventually follows Yue, where we learn she's a waterbender? Okay, not like her being a waterbender or not has any affect whatsoever on the story, but sure. We also learn that she had previously been engaged to Hahn but broke it off because he "wasn't the boy of her dreams". Not sure why they bothered to write him in the first place.

So...Yue and Sokka begin talking, and Sokka finally realizes why she's familiar to him.

I genuinely had to pause the episode to laugh when this reveal happened.

YUE WAS THE FOX SPIRIT SOKKA SAW IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.

Yes, I'm being 100% serious. When Yue was healed by the moon spirit, she turned into Danny Phantom and can now just hop in and out of the Spirit World. As a fox for God knows what reason.

BTW, this has jack shit to do with anything overall. It adds nothing. It serves NO PURPOSE. Genuinely do not know what the hell they were trying to do with that.

Um, so yeah. Moving on.

Apparently in this version, Tui and La only become mortal fish once a year or something? On the night of the "ice moon". Your guess as to what on earth an ice moon is is as good as mine.

Zhao begins to lead an invasion on the north and Momo is killed in the crossfire.

Well, almost.

Again I just busted out laughing because Momo has served NO PURPOSE until now, he's just been there because he was in the og series. I'm sorry Momo, as much as I love you....why were you here.

To save a kid from being crushed by falling debris. He just pushes them out of the way and is crushed. The reason is just so that Yue can take him to the Oasis and use healing on him with the Spirit Water.

Katara and Zuko have their classic fight and Zuko says "Oh you've found a master haven't you?" To which Katara replies, "Yeah, me" because she's a master now after 2 days remember?

Koizilla happens...the tribe is saved...Yue makes her sacrifice. So now she can go be the moon instead of a fox I guess.

Also, I think Iroh killed Zhao, despite earlier in the series refusing to kill the Earth Kingdom soldier who captured him because "we've all seen enough death."

And then...Aang goes back to the Spirit World, to find that the little "house" Gyatso was in is empty now. Gyatso is just gone now, with no explanation, although he seemed to know when he met with Aang beforehand that he would be gone from the Spirit World next time Aang tried to find him. Great job, taking the only interesting storyline made up for this series and just throwing it out the window for no rhyme or reason!

Now lemme talk about Azula....

She's not even Azula anymore. She's really insecure and worried about pleasing her father. Because whenever I thought of Azula, I always thought "insecure!" Like I get what they were going for, Zhao says this honestly kinda raw line about Zuko merely being the fire to sharpen the iron that was Azula, but like....why did she have to be this insecure person now? Also why is she even an archer now? It again has nothing to do with anything

Mai and Ty Lee are there for also no reason at all other than to be like "HEY REMEMBER THESE TWO CHARACTERS FROM THE ORIGINAL SHOW?!" They just stand there and watch Azula train sometimes.

The show ends with a Fire Sage showing Ozai through their planetarium (which they have now I guess) that Sozin's Comet is returning "soon." Who knows when! Just soon!

Also, Kataang shippers do not get your hopes up. Not that I expected much Kataang here at all, but I swear they barely even feel like friends until the end. It almost seems like Katara is more interested in him than he is in her.

My expectations of this series were low from the beginning. When it was first announced this project was in development, I said it was unnecessary and couldn't improve upon the OG in any way...and I was right. Even as its own thing entirely divorced from the cartoon, it's just kind of bland and downright confusing at times.

Anyways, my fingers hurt now so I'm going to wrap this up. Apparently I've been typing for like 1.5 hr now lol

Watch the original series instead :)