#but also what does this mean about owen???

[everlastingday]

wait wait wait i JUST NOTICED

CAPTAIN STRICKLAND?!?!?!!

[ghostieblotts]

Full disclosure that this post was inspired by this wonderful meme. So you know where my brain is at.

I've been recently working on a Splatoon au for SAF, and this got me thinking about an aspect of one of my character choices. Because the importance and fear of abandonment is a key part of why I think Owen works well as Marina.

Now, being completely frank, the primary reason for my making curtwen be pearlina is because I am biased, and want my one set of faves to be my other set of faves. (Indeed, I have thought about how Owen and Tatiana could well have been the other way around - and this would lead to compelling character choices for both of them! Tatiana as Marina, who is trying to leave behind her past as a prodigious child soldier, would work really well - Owen as Acht, who is left behind and relinquishes their body and free will in avoidance of distraction and pursuit of perfection, is an idea that haunts me.) But there are also ways that I think it works!

During the Chaos vs Order splatfest, I think one of the things that scares Marina most is the idea of losing Pearl. The characters all have slightly different reasons for joining their team in that splatfest, but I always see Marina's as being that the order and status quo she is seeking to protect is the new life she has built with Pearl.

To me, Marina is a character who craves stability and is terrified of being abandoned, specifically because she once uprooted a stable life and abandoned everything she knew. And, while that decision allowed her to escape her home and make her dreams come true, it was nonetheless incredibly turbulent, and I think it feels very fragile for her. I think it feels particularly fragile while Pearl doesn't yet know that Marina is an Octarian (which - goodness, how scared must she have been when Pearl found out?), and the idea of this beautiful reality she has found herself in shattering terrifies her. And the idea of Pearl leaving is most terrifying of all.

I always like the idea that Owen was scared of being abandoned pre-fall. That he felt like everything good might shatter in an instant, that everyone he loved could leave or die without warning, and that it was hard to accept that Curt might actually stay. (And then, once he finally did accept it, once the trust between them grew to the point that Curt leaving Owen behind became unthinkable, the impossible happened.) So this idea of the fear of abandonment is something I'm particularly in favour of as part of my au.

Particularly, one of the things that is especially fun to me, is that in this splatoon au, Owen becomes so scared of being abandoned specifically because he's been the one who left. And he knows how abrupt that was.

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic. (Edit: and please look up his history of civil rights activism, he was on the FBI watchlist and even a pallbearer at MLKJr’s funeral.)

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes (read: Drake harassed the hell out of her). *Edit: she was also fined at the 2012 Olympics for crip walking in celebration at Wimbledon.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[zottts]

lewis pullman characters, and what they'd do for their first time with reader

Bob - it takes him a LONG time to get there, to make sure you and him are both comfortable, and that you both know you want this. it starts off with small touches, he would gently kiss your skin. from the crook of your neck to the inner parts of your thighs, his hands go wherever you let him - his touch his soft despite his hands being... well- big. he calls you pretty, perfect and boy does he make noises!! he is very noisy, whimpering, whining as you move your hips against his own - each little noise falls into your mouth as you kiss him, he is careful. he feels like if he "does to much" you'll wither away in his hands.

HE ALSO EATS YOU OUT CANT CJANGE MY MIND

owen - definitely back seat type of deal, or hiding in a storage closet - he purposely has this achingly slowly, and soft touch. he wants to work you up, get you hot and bothered, he knows what he was doing to you from the start, he wants to take his time hearing every each little almost pornagraphic noise that falls from your mouth "fuck- owen- oh my god-" your hands tugging on his shirt, hair - as he fucks you up against the wall, his hands over your mouth so you don't get caught, because that's unholy right? don't want to be seen like that, that would be sinful. but the way he talks into your ear about how dirty you are, how good you feel, goes right to your core. and this time definitely wouldn't be last time either, he also likes leaving hickeys in places only you two can see

rhett - you would expect him to be rough since he gives that "rough and dirty" look, but he's the complete opposite. the first time is in the bed of his truck, he has a blanket and pillows set, you are under the stars. he has you in his lap so he can see you, he is also very touchy, and lets you be loud, he loves hearing that you take so much pleasure from him, yes he treats you good, makes sure you feel good and all that but that doesn't mean he doesn't like marking you, he loves leaving hickeys, bite marks all of it. (but thats for later, he doesn't want to push you to far), he also loves kissing your skin

calvin - he holds your face, arms, sides. each touch is calculated and articulated, he goes slow, but hard. keeping his eyes on you the entire time, talking you through it, complimenting you, telling you to keep your hands on him, eyes on him. despite being an awkward fuck he likes the eye contact, watching unravel underneath him. he also definitely does it with you in his bed, he probably set it up and everything too. all cute, candles, attempting to make you a dinner, soft kisses leading up to it

THATS IT MWAH

[leikeliscomet]

Asexual theory 101

Right I keep getting asked on most of my asexual posts 'What does this mean OP? Where's the sources?' so imma make a quick ace theory 101 post so if anyone says they don't get it I can say I tried. Let's go:

'What does being ace have to do with race/racism?/There's racism in the ace community???'

Pretty much everything as people of colour experience various forms of sexualisation and desexualisation at the same time, which is why POC are rarely included in asexual representation:

Asexuals of Color Still Seek to Validate Their Asexuality by Ebony Purks

Stereotypes & media about Black masculinity made it harder to come out as asexual by Tyger Songbird

Your Assumptions About Black Queer Masculinity Are Erasing My Asexual Identity by Timinepre Cole

It's Time To Start Celebrating Black Asexuality in Media By Tyger Songbird

Yasmin Benoit: ‘People had a hard time believing that I could be Black and asexual and at Pride’ by Alastair James

Brown and Gray: An Asexual People of Color Zine

'What do TERFS/transphobia have to do with asexuality?'

There's a growing TERF conspiracy theory that asexuality is the side-effect of transitioning. The LGB movement believes the community is exclusively for 'same-sex attracted persons' and so identities that don't involve attraction e.g. the TQIA should be removed. Most backlash towards Yasmin Benoit, aroace activist, is from white TERFs and conservatives:

Acephobic conspiracy theories have transphobic and fascist roots by Sherronda J Brown

Anti-trans movement has a new target: The asexual community by Yasmin Benoit

'But how can conservatives hate asexuality if they hate sex?'

Because they don't and never did. If the term 'puritan' was used correctly in modern internet discourse, it would be known Christian puritans believe heterosexual sex for reproduction is a gift from god and mandatory so being asexual doesn't exactly fit with that worldview. Their beef is with any form of sex and sexuality that falls outside of cis heterosexual marriage, including asexuality. They're not anti sex but anti sexual autonomy:

"Anti-Sex" and the Real Sexual Politics of the Right by Lee Cicuta (ButchAnarchy)

The religious right is now targeting sexless marriages as “selfishness.” They Want to Ban Those Too by Tyger Songbird

Asexual people targetted by right-wing pundits following landmark report by Harriet Brewis

'What does being ace have to do with gender?'

It's commonly assumed that because patriarchy shames women's sexualities and considers all men's sexuality as biological and unavoidable, that ace women only and exclusively experience desexualisation whilst ace men only and exclusively are pressured into being sexual beings. This can true as a broad overview but it can vary based on race, disability, class etc. This also becomes complex for asexuals that exist outside the gender binary. This is known as 'gender detachment'.

Impossible for Men, Unremarkable for Women by Canton Winer

My Work on Gender Detachment and Asexuality Strikes a Nerve by Canton Winer

'There's asexual studies now?'

Yup. On the general experiences of asexual people in the UK, including discrimination in education, the workplace and healthcare:

The National LGBT Survey (2018)

Ace in the UK Report (2023)

Asexuality in the UK: Public attitudes towards people who experience little to no sexual attraction (2025)

Specific names:

Asexual theorists: Ianna Hawkins Owen, Michael Paramo, Julia Sondra Decker, Canton Winer (non-ace), Sherronda J Brown, Angela Chen

Asexual activists: Yasmin Benoit, Tyger Songbird, Marshall Blount (TheGentleAce)

Asexual artists: Kimberly Butler (TheAsexualGoddess)

And I'm gonna update this with more if they're worth adding. I don't wanna hear any excuses anymore or blame towards aces of colour, gay aces or trans aces for not being specific enough anymore. Read!

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵����

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[lulunothulu]

“Jealousy, jealousy” pt. 2

Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

@86laura11: Oh my gosh. I want more. What’s next? Does Kate apologize to her friend? Does Tyler take her on a real date? I need to know.

Summary: After a night of pizza and talking, Tyler finally asks you out on a proper date—asking Kate to help you get ready.

Content: just cute fluff

Part one

Both you and Tyler finished off the pizza he brought in under thirty minutes, realizing you both skipped dinner. Now, sprawled across your bed, you and Tyler look up at the popcorn ceiling.

“That was really good,” he tells you. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

You groan. “I think I might burst.”

Tyler laughs, propping himself on one arm and facing you. Your hair was down—strew around your head like sun rays—and your face content.

You were goddamn beautiful.

“So I have a question,” Tyler starts.

You turn to face him, almost surprised that he’s as handsome up close as he was far away. You couldn’t believe this was happening, much less that he had something to ask you.

“What is it?” You respond, propping yourself on your elbow, the same way Tyler did.

“Well…I was wonderin’,” he starts, southern drawl catching on his tongue. “Would you maybe…whenever you’re free…wanna go out on a date with me?”

Your heart began to pound on your chest. Excitement and joy bubble up your spine and you smile at Tyler widely.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asks.

“I’m sure Javi and Kate wouldn’t mind if I skipped out tomorrow,” you tell him.

Tyler’s eyes widen, he forgot about Kate. What if you were still mad at her for what she did?

“Let me text them,” you tell him.

You:Guys….

Kate:Y/N…?

Javi:Are you okay?

You:Jake just asked me out…

Kate: HOLY SHIT HE FINALLY DID IT.

You: wait… you knew?

Kate: why tf do you think I was talking to him?

Javi: do I have to be here for this?

You: yes.

Kate: YES.

You: Kate, can you come over after the leaves in a bit? Also is it okay if I skip out tomorrow, Javi?

Kate: Sounds good.

Javi: Sure

You turn to Tyler who’s still watching you with a smile and feel the blush creep up.

“They, uh, said it was alright to skip out,” you tell him.

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sounds good, Sweetheart.”

He rolls off the bed, standing in front of you to help you up. With his hand offering to help you, you take it and are swiftly hoisted up to your feet.

Tyler pulled you too hard though, because you feel yourself crashing into his hard chest. You look up at him, startled. He looks down at you, amused.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 11,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before walking toward your door.

You’re still vibrating from his kiss when you realize something.

Did he say 11 as in, 11 AM?

“11 AM?” You ask.

Tyler just nods, winking your way and walking out the door.

Not even a minute later, your door rattles as someone knocks on your door.

You smile, walking toward the door and swinging it open to find Kate standing there, excitedly beaming at you.

“Oh my god! He just came from your room!” She beams.

“Yeah,” you say. “We had pizza for dinner.”

You let her in, watching as she takes a deep breath before turning around to face you. Her face is now riddled in remorse, brows furrowing together.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “About making you cry.”

You wave her off. “It’s fine, I’m about to start my period soon. I’m just hormonal.”

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“I mean, the plan was to get me jealous. And it worked,” you laugh. “It worked big time.”

Kate smiles at you before shaking your head and pulling you into a hug. “I really am sorry.”

You hug her tightly. “It’s okay, really. How could I stay mad at you when I have a date with Tyler tomorrow morning?”

She pulls you back, smile back on her face mixed with confusion. “Morning?”

You only shrug.

———

The next morning, Tyler’s up bright and early.

10 AM to be exact.

He wanted to be ready for your date aaaand he still needed to get your number.

As quietly as he can, Tyler tiptoes to the motel door he and Boone share before opening it and sneaking out. He walks toward Javi’s room, knocking when he arrives.

Javi answers the door, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry, can I have Y/N’s number?” He asks.

“Did you forget to ask last night?” Javi smiles.

Tyler’s about to respond, but stops when he hears, “Javi? Who’s at the door?”

From behind Javi walks Kate, wearing one of Javi’s shirts. Tyler’s brows raise, a smile forming on his lips.

“You and Kate?” He asks.

“Here’s her number,” Kate smiles, handing him a piece of paper with your number on it.

Tyler smiles, waving them goodbye before checking his watch.

10:20 AM.

He figured he would go to the diner across the street for some coffee before texting you.

Tyler walks into the diner, surveying the place before stopping when he finds you sitting in the booth in the back.

You’re wearing a lilac sundress and your hair cascades around your shoulders as you sip your coffee.

Tyler approaches, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Well, what brings you here?”

You look up at him and he could’ve sworn you looked even more beautiful than normal.

Your cheeks are rosy, face covered in light makeup that accentuates your already gorgeous face, and your lips are a natural pinky color.

“Wow,” he gawks. “You—you look just…wow.”

You smile up at him and he could’ve sworn he melted away.

“Thank you,” you respond, your sweet voice singing into his ears.

Tyler clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

You nod, slipping out of the booth and watching as Tyler tosses some bills on the table.

“Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”

———

Tyler drove you almost an hour away into a small town full of Gilmore Girls-esque house and people.

“I cannot believe you just found this random town,” you marvel.

You’d both been walking around town after a quick brunch at a local diner.

Tyler’s hand kept brushing against yours as you walked, looking at all the shops.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “I’d seen it a few days ago and thought it would be a great place to just walk around with you.”

You glance up at him, a smile already on your lips.

“You’ve been planning this for days?”

Tyler looks down at you, stopping to face you completely. He’s wearing his white cowboy hat, his signature flannel, and jeans paired with boots. He looks normal but different at the same time.

Yet, he’s taking your breath away.

“I have been,” he admits. “I’ve been planning this for longer than then to be honest.”

“How long?” You ask.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Since the first day I met you.”

“That was almost a month ago!” You laugh.

He only shrugs. “I knew what I wanted the moment you scowled at me from the back seat of your truck.”

You laughed, remembering how he had driven next Javi trying to beat you all in getting to a tornado. You remember his eyes on you and your scowl when he winked at you.

“I knew you’d be a tough one to crack after that,” he finishes. “When did you know you liked me?”

You grab his hand in yours, feeling the roughness of the callouses on his palm.

“That night when you came to apologize for stealing the tornado out from under us,” you reply.

Tyler laughs. “Yeah, I guess that must’ve sweetened the sour feelings you had about me.”

“Even more so when you told Scott off for yelling at Javi, Kate, and I,” you admit.

After Tyler stole the tornado from you guys, Scott was a raging mess. Angry that Javi didn’t drive fast enough, Kate for not sending the second one you could’ve gone after, and you for not seeing it on the radar.

Tyler walked right up to Scott, telling him to back off and you could’ve sworn your heart grew four times its size that night.

“Yeah,” he smiles, reminiscing on the argument. “I couldn’t let him talk down to my girl.”

You smile up at him. How could you have gotten so lucky?

“Well, I’m glad you did,” you whisper, watching as something clicks behind Tyler’s eyes.

His eyes search yours before falling to your lips. “Y/N��”

“Yes,” you simply say.

“I didn’t even get to—”

“Tyler just kiss me,” you order.

Tyler chuckles, pulling you into him and lifting you to his level. “Alright, Sweetheart.”

Lips connect with yours, sweet and soft. They move, urging to get to now every inch of them while you allow yourself to relax in Tyler’s arms.

When Tyler’s stubble tickles your nose, sending you into a little fit of giggles, he pulls away.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, still smiling.

“Your stubble tickles,” you laugh.

“I can shave tonight.”

You oil him back into your lips, pecking softly and then pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Only pulling away to smile at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

[simmerandwrite]

grapefruit sidecar (part 1)

part of the Sink Into Me universe

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader x mob! Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was just an innocent question. You definitely didn't have any ulterior motives: “Have you ever had a threesome?” But when Steve admits something from his past with Bucky, you can't help but wonder...

Part 1: The Club | Part 2: The Penthouse

Warnings: 18+!!! established relationship (Steve x reader), MFM threesome shenanigans

Notes: here we gooooo! I don't think you *need* to read Sink Into Me to enjoy this two part series, but hey - feel free to read it! enjoy! and yes in my mind these two fuck like owen gray and small hands what who said that

--

“Have you ever had a threesome?”

The question came from your lips so casually, so innocently that Steve wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. He stilled his pen and lifted his eyes to you, curled up in the corner of the couch in his office. 

You were typing away on your phone, nursing the tail end of a hangover. Steve had insisted he could take you home to have a nap following the late brunch you shared together, but you insisted you wanted to just orbit near him for the rest of the day. 

He couldn’t say no to that. But he also couldn’t keep putting off some paperwork, so armed with an oversized iced tea for hydration, you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he worked. And now he knew exactly why you had encouraged him to get a nice throw blanket to keep at the office too. 

Steve cleared his throat, finally drawing your eyes to his. You gave him a cheeky smile. 

“And where is that question coming from?”

“Uhm,” you started slowly, sitting up a bit straighter as you put your phone down. “A weird turn of topics in the group chat with the girls.” 

Something about your smile made Steve think that wasn’t the whole truth. 

He laughed. Okay, he’d play along. “And is my response going to be the next topic in the group chat with the girls?” 

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t do that. Just because Maria loves updating us on her sex life constantly, doesn’t mean I contribute the same way. Scouts honour.” 

Steve pushed back on his chair and stood, removing his glasses as he walked over to join you. 

“Weird place for pillow talk,” he said, planting himself beside you on the couch. You were quick to adjust and cozy up at his side. “But yes, I’ve had a threesome. More than one.”

“Oooh. With who?”

One of his eyebrows shot up, scanning your curious wide eyes. “Sweetheart.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just wondering how threesomes even happen. I’ve never had one, thought about it I guess but like.. who executes the idea? Do you talk about it beforehand or does it just happen? Who makes sure it’s fair?”

Steve let out a hard laugh. “When I’m involved, everyone has always had a good time. It’s been fair.”

“Okay but with who?”

He hesitated. 

“Come onnnnn. Who was it? When was it? Wait. Have you had more than one? Was it with someone I know? You know I don’t care about your history with Sharon. She probably has some attractive girlfriends.”

Steve blew out a breath. What did he have to lose here? You and him were both typically very secure in your relationship, but he still didn’t want to unintentionally hurt any feelings. 

“Okay. If you really want to know.” He shook his head, somehow confused he was even talking to you about this. “I’ve had a few. Haven’t happened in a while, usually there are just certain circumstances where… It happened organically. With a repeat participant.” 

You nodded, eager. “Whoooo?”

“Usually it was me, and that repeat participant, and a nice girl we found at the club.”

“Steve.” You groaned out his name. “Just tell me. Who is she?”

Steve’s lips grew into a small smirk as he gave you a sideways glance. “Not a she.”

You gasped, sitting up on your knees at his side. “What? Who? Oh my god, I shouldn’t have just assumed it was a woman.” You stopped your train of thought and narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Oh my god. Oh my god! Is it Bucky?”

Steve raised his eyebrows then gave you a slow nod.

“Ahh!!” You tapped your hand on his shoulder, excited. “That makes so much sense. You two have such a close friendship and honestly, that’s..” You let out a long breath, closing your eyes for a second. “That’s really hot. You and Bucky. Damn.”

Steve shifted slightly in his position, raising an eyebrow and watching as you grew excited beside him on the couch. “Sorry? That’s really what?”

“Steve.” You opened one eye and looked at him quickly. “You heard me. Listen, I’m not blind. Bucky is attractive. But don’t– I’m not, like, attracted to him. Okay, well, I am but not like that.”

“Like how then?” Steve couldn’t help but make you squirm about this whole topic now. It was something he hadn’t ever considered with you - sharing your intimacy with anyone else. Mostly because the idea of any other person on the planet even looking at you like that made him fire up with a possessive side he had a hard time hiding. But… Bucky wasn’t just anyone. 

There was a certain thrill that Bucky and Steve used to share when they’d do this together. The experiences were never really planned but Steve knew if someone caught his eye that Bucky would be interested in just as much as he was, and they were both in the mood for a little extra fun, then it was only fair to throw it on the table. They had their own signal, even. A quick side hug with a keyword dropped into the conversation, followed by a confirmation double ear tug.

It had always been a sober choice, too. 

“Stop,” you replied quietly, leaning into Steve’s shoulder again. “Forget I said anything.”

“I can forget it.. If that’s what you want.” He extended his hand to prop your chin up, encouraging you to look him in the eyes again. “But if it’s something you want to discuss further..”

You pulled back slightly. “What?” It looked like your mind was misfiring as you found your words. “But.. wouldn’t that be weird? Also.. wait. Are you – Hmm. It sounds fun but kind of scary and.. How do you even start and..” You paused and closed your eyes again. “Would Bucky even want to… with me..? Am I even his type?”

“Sweetheart,” Steve turned directly to you, grasping your hands in his. “You have no idea.”

—

Steve knew the right moment would present itself. Because the millisecond you had started the conversation with him about it, he had a feeling it would happen eventually. But, it was important that the timing was just right.

Mostly because he didn’t want you to worry or panic about it. In fact, in the few conversations you and Steve had shared about the entire threesome topic, he had made it abundantly clear that you would be in charge. That was usually the method Steve and Bucky followed anyway, depending on the third person sharing a bed with them.

Really though, after all of this chatter about the possibility, Steve could see your confidence and excitement growing. You had told Steve it was his responsibility to read your energy and Bucky’s to make sure everything felt right. And Steve had suggested maybe easing into the whole thing anyways. Maybe you didn’t go all the way right away. 

But, the right moment had to arrive.

And on a very ordinary Saturday night at the club, things seemed to be aligning. First and foremost, Steve knew you were in a great mood. You had an extra day off, you’d recently finished a big project at work and Steve had even just surprised you with a shopping spree. He knew how rarely you spent money on yourself, especially for new pieces of clothing. He had been especially generous when it came to a few pieces of lingerie. 

One set specifically he knew you had on under that new dress. While the club wasn’t always your preferred location for a Saturday night, you had been the one to suggest it this time. You wanted to dance with your girls and who was Steve to hold you back?

As for Bucky, Steve knew his friend had recently gone on a few bumpy first dates. First dates that didn’t deliver because it was clear from Bucky’s on and off grumpy mood that he was pretty pent up. Steve knew it was still a shot in the dark if Bucky would want to participate, but maybe he’d want to let off some steam and have fun.

So, when it was early enough in the night that both you and Bucky hadn’t yet overindulged, Steve started to put a plan into action.

When you came back upstairs to his private area for a break from the dance floor, Steve handed you a glass of water. 

“I’m cutting you off,” he whispered into your ear.

“I’ve only had one glass of –”

“Baby..” Steve pressed a kiss against your neck. “Just trust me. You go back down and dance while I chat with Bucky.”

You let out a small gasp, reaching out to grab the lapel of Steve’s suit. “Wait. Really? Are we–”

Steve cut you off with a kiss, then motioned towards the dancefloor. You gave him a coy smile over your shoulder as you hurried down to find Wanda and Maria again.

With a deep breath, Steve ran a hand through his hair then headed towards the bar. Bucky had his back against the counter, sipping a rocks glass as he surveyed the space. Steve stopped at Bucky’s side, giving him a small nudge on the arm.

“What are you drinkin’?” Steve prompted, matching Bucky’s pose.

Bucky furrowed his brow, turning to look at Steve. “Whiskey.”

“Wanna switch it up?” Steve asked slowly, turning his head to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Maybe we split a grapefruit sidecar?”

Bucky nearly choked as he turned to face Steve directly. “What? Rogers, I’m not going to .. If you are planning to fuck this up with your girl over some other broad.. I’m going to fuckin’ kick your ass and–”

Steve brought his hands up to stop Bucky from doing exactly that. “Jesus, Buck. Don’t think so fucking little of me, punk.” Steve rolled his neck then leaned in closer. “This invite is coming from me and my girl.”

Bucky’s eyes blew open, mouth slightly agape as he looked at Steve. “Are you serious?”

Steve grinned, raising his eyebrows up for a brief moment. “You need a second to mull it over?”

Bucky blinked, clearly letting his mind catch up. He quickly discarded his glass on the bar and raised his hand to tug on his earlobe. “Stevie, you know I’d never admit to having impure thoughts about your girl but..”

Steve laughed then grasped Bucky’s shoulder. “My office. 20 minutes.”

–

Steve came and found you on the dancefloor not long after he had pitched that tonight would be the night. And holy shit, you couldn’t believe it. You were buzzing with more than just excitement - there was a flutter of nerves and impossibilities flashing through your mind too.

Even though Steve had quite thoroughly told you how much fun you’d all have, how Bucky would enjoy himself just as much as you would, if not more. Despite those reassurances, you wouldn’t believe it could even happen until, well, it happened.

Now, as you were heading to Steve’s office - there seemed to be some sort of electricity in the air. 

God, you looked hot tonight. That was helping a lot. Out of all the clothes Steve had dropped down cash for, the dress you were wearing had been one of your favourites. It hugged the curves of your body in the most perfect way, with a generous view of your chest and a short hemline that left little to the imagination. You had felt effortlessly sexy in it, especially with the lacy garments underneath threatening to peak out at the top.

Steve’s office was empty when you both arrived, the walls dulling the bass from trickling in from the club. Steve left the big lights off, opting for just lamplight and ambiance from the illuminated Brooklyn skyline seeping in. 

Before you could start nervously pacing, Steve pulled you into his arms. He was leaning against the edge of the desk and you stood between his legs.

“Hey, remember what I said before..” Steve started, slowly tracing his fingers up and down your arms as he kept eye contact with you. “If you change your mind, at any point.. You just say so. And then it’s over, no questions asked.”

You nodded. “I know. Thank you.” As much as you were trying to keep it together, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m excited. But I'm nervous, too. How does this start and–”

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. After a few seconds, there was a voice.

“It’s, uh, me. Bucky.”

Steve glanced down at you, giving you one last look waiting for your confirmation. You responded with a coy smile and a nod, shifting around to lean against Steve. He draped his arms around you and called out for Bucky to come in.

You had always been aware of how attractive Bucky was. You were a normal, warm blooded woman after all. But there was something even hotter about seeing him cross through the doorway, knowing full well what intentions you all shared. And the fact that Bucky looked nervous, like his confidence wasn’t guarding him as it usually did, made it all feel even better.

Fuck. These men and their suits, too. Bucky was wearing black on black on black and the way his metal arm glinted under the lamplight, you nearly choked.

Bucky shut the door behind him, glancing over his shoulder quickly to look back at Steve. You sensed Steve’s nod, because Bucky made sure to lock the door, too. Then after an awkward silence, Bucky took it upon himself to sit on the couch.

“So,” Steve started, all calm and casual as his fingertips skated against your exposed collarbone. 

All you could do was stare straight ahead at Bucky, watching him watching you and Steve. Fuck, what happened now? How did you cross this line and–

You gasped as Steve’s lips found your neckline, weakening your knees as his tongue and lips explored your skin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve paused, moving one hand down your body and toying with the bottom of your dress. “How are you feeling?”

You whimpered, closing your eyes. “G-good. Yeah, so good.”

Steve grinned against your neck, pressing another kiss under your ear. “Buck?”

You looked back towards Bucky as he took a second to reply. He was already adjusting the top of his jeans, taking in slow breaths. “Yeah, so far so..” When he bit his lip, you nearly collapsed.

Steve lowered his voice, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Baby, what do you want? You wanna help Bucky feel even better?”

Holy fuck, you did. You really did. Jesus Christ almighty, the whole concept of Steve encouraging you to put your mouth on Bucky was electric. 

“You already makin’ a mess of those nice panties, baby?” You nodded again, looking back up at Steve as he grabbed your neck. “You take care of Bucky then he’ll watch me take care of you. How’s that sound?” 

Your reply was a jumbled up moan of positivity as Steve kissed you again, hard and wet before squeezing your hips and swatting your ass. 

As you walked towards him, Bucky sat up just a bit straighter on the couch. He was still nervous but judging by how he was running his hands down his thighs, you only imagined how excited he was, too.

“Hi Bucky,” you said quietly as you very slowly got down on your knees. “Can I..” You dragged your tongue across your lips, then glanced down at his belt.

Bucky swallowed hard, sparing another glance towards Steve before looking back at you. He sucked in a breath then reached his hand out to steady your chin. “Only if you want to, doll.”

You couldn’t help but smile, genuinely. Despite being on your knees in front of him, you were grateful that Bucky was still confirming your own interest in this whole thing.

“Yes, please.” You nodded and placed your hands on his knees, slowing running them up his slacks until you met his belt buckle.

He was quick to assist you in your task, pulling at his belt and lifting his hips as you yanked on his pants and boxers. His cock was already hard and ready and you couldn’t even help yourself, immediately reaching for it.

“Fuck,” Bucky exhaled, hands clutching the couch as you ran your hands against it.

“Buck,” Steve called out from across the room. “Pillow.”

You looked up at Bucky, who was scrambling to reach out and grab a nearby throw pillow from the opposite side of the couch. Without a second thought, he lifted it to rest behind his head before Steve interrupted him.

“For her knees, you dumbass,” Steve laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, helping you position it under your knees.

You didn’t reply, but instead you gave Bucky a sweet smile then got to work. You swiped your tongue around the head of his cock, before trailing it down along the soft silk of his shaft. Then you took a deep breath and slowly opened your lips, sucking on the tip.

Bucky’s hands gripped the couch even tighter, barely resisting the urge to thrust his hips upwards. You appreciated his restraint, though you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Your name left his lips, like a curse word. “Doll..” You felt one of his hands against your jaw. “Look at me.” Your eyes darted up to his and he really cursed this time. “Fuck, oh fuck. Yes, look at you with my cock in your mouth. So fucking sexy.”

That set you off, attempting to take even more of his length into your mouth as you looked at him. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you stroked with one of your hands, fueled by the drool dripping past your lips. 

You got into a groove, shifting through a pattern of swirling your tongue, sucking long and hard and adding in both fists stroking on and off too. Above you, Bucky seemed to be in a euphoric state. And he couldn’t stop praising you for it, either.

“Jesus Christ, doll. This fucking mouth. So pretty, so fucking pretty with a cock in it. You do this for Stevie too, don’t you? You’ve done it right here on this couch haven’t you?” 

Something about the way Bucky talked about you and Steve really riled you up. You hollowed out your cheeks, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes as you waited for him. After a second you, pulled back and grinned.

“I let him fuck my face right here, Bucky. Do you wanna do that too?” 

Bucky licked his lips and grinned right back, grabbing the side of your head ever so gently and guiding you right back down onto his cock. Then, he did exactly what he wanted. His hips thrusted up quickly, moving in and out of your mouth in record time. You gagged against him as he held you there briefly, then slowed down.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come, doll,” he fell back against the couch as you took over once more, both hands alternating between massaging his balls and stroking up. You took him back into your mouth, sucking harder as Bucky’s moans grew louder. 

“So close, so fucking..” You pulled back and Bucky grabbed his cock with one hand, steadying your open mouth before him with the other. He growled as he came, hard. You stuck your tongue out, smiling wide as his climax washed over him, unloading onto your tongue and lips. You let it sit there in your mouth for a few extra seconds, keeping eye contact with Bucky as you swallowed it down.

He collapsed against the couch, eyes blown open wide. “Holy fucking shit. Stevie, the mouth on your girl..”

“You can address your compliments to her directly, Buck,” Steve laughed, standing from where he had been sitting in his chair and coming over to help you up. “You might have made his brain malfunction, sweetheart.”

You smiled proudly, meeting Steve’s lips for a kiss. You leaned against him again, tilting your head up to him. “Need you inside me, please?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. His hand rested against the base of your neck, holding you flush against his chest. “And can Bucky watch?”

You couldn’t help but giggle and nod.

Bucky’s eyes opened slowly, as a smirk grew on his face too. He didn’t even bother cleaning himself up or pulling his pants into place again, simply leaning back and watching carefully as Steve led you over towards his desk. 

Steve took his time, kissing you quite generously as he peeled your dress up towards your waist. You felt him smile against your lips as his hands tugged on your underwear, sliding his fingers towards your center. Just as he had predicted, you had clearly really enjoyed yourself, as your soaked panties indicated.

“I’m gonna slide right in, baby,” he breathed against your neck, swirling his fingers around your clit. “Maybe next time, we do this at the same time. Do you want to try that? Bucky in your mouth while you’re full of me?” 

You groaned, twitching as Steve’s fingers sped up. It wasn’t long until your orgasm approached and soon enough you were quivering in Steve’s arms, ricocheting your way up and down the rollercoaster of senses as Steve turned and pressed you against his desk.

You laid down across it, on your stomach with your ass up in the air. You could feel Steve behind you, shoving your underwear to the side as he freed himself from his own pants. You gripped the edge of the desk as he entered you, slowly at first to make sure you were comfortable and ready. 

Across the room, you watched as Bucky was gripping his own cock, somehow hard again. Steve held onto your hips and thrusted steady, letting out his own series of grunts and moans as he fucked you.

Between your own moaning and Steve’s, you could barely hear Bucky across the room but he said your name out loud. You met his eyes as he was rubbing his shaft.

“You’re incredible, doll. Absolutely fucking incredible. And look at you, taking Steve so well. You like that, huh? Being so fucking full of him?”

With your own orgasm approaching, all you could do was cry out in agreement. Steve growled behind you, speeding up as he gripped your hips even tighter. 

“Look what you did to Bucky, baby,” Steve smacked his hand against your ass, holding you tight against him. “With just your mouth..” 

Bucky smirked, biting his lip as he watched you bounce against the desk. “Gonna let me feel that pussy next time?”

Your climax felt volcanic - a flurry of neurons firing off in your brain as you quivered, safely pressed against the desk as the weight of Steve covered you like a warm blanket. He came right after, growling in your ear as he spilled into you. Steve stayed in place after, as if unable to let go as he caught his breath. 

As you came back down to earth, Steve eventually stood, taking a moment to clean you up before coaxing you back into his desk chair. Yeah, you definitely needed a few more minutes. If you stood, you might fall down like a baby deer. 

You leaned back into the soft leather chair, eyes closed as you grinned. 

Steve kneeled before you, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee as he fixed your skirt. 

“Baby, you okay?” 

You opened your eyes and looked down. He was flush and seemed awfully content. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile like that before. 

You bit your lip, resisting your urge to scream with joy. You glanced from Steve over to Bucky. He was still sitting on the couch, though his pants were done up and buckled again. 

“I’m really good. Like, wow. Great. Amazing.”

Bucky laughed from his spot. “Doll, you’re amazing. I..” He sat up a bit straighter. “Best  sidecar I’ve ever had.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking back to Steve again. They were wearing matching grins. You didn’t want to ask. 

“I have worked up an appetite though..” You moved to stand. Steve got to his feet and offered his hand. “How do we feel about milkshakes?”

You collected yourself as Steve and Bucky strategized the best way to sneak out of the club and find a table at your favourite diner. 

There was a shift, though. When Bucky opened the car door for you, exchanging another smirk with Steve. Something in the air felt different.

Part 2 - The Penthouse

[little-diable]

Bad Omen - Tyler Owens (smut)

This was somewhat requested by a lovely anon reader, so I tried to incorporate it as much as I could. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader and Tyler have hated one another with a burning passion for years, but when they get stuck in his dying truck with a tornado nearing both seem to realise that their reasons for hating the other aren’t as valid as they thought they were.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), reader gets slightly hurt, enemies to lovers, some angst

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.8k words)

“Tell me this is a fucking joke, Owens!” Sweat was pooling on her forehead, adding to the clammy feeling she hadn’t been able to shake for the past minutes. Curses rolled off his tongue, words she couldn’t spare any attention to as her surroundings began to close in on her. “Tyler!”

Her panicked voice managed to rip him out of his own state, fully focused on getting his truck to start again. Both had been stuck there for a good ten minutes, being shaken from one side to the other as his truck died in the middle of a field. They were surrounded by nothing but a wooden barn the nearing tornado would rip apart any minute now. 

“Would you shut up for a second, (y/n)! I’m trying to save our fucking lives here.” She had known that driving with Tyler had been a mistake, a mistake she had made only for her friends to get some bonding time with Boone and Lily. A mistake she was now paying the price for while being stuck in his truck without a way to reach their friends. “Fuck, of course this only happens when you’re around.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not some bad fucking omen.” A groan ripped through Tyler at her spiteful words, a sound that was swallowed by the cries of the nearing tornado. Both were staring at it, heavily swallowing as it dawned on them that they had no place to hide, unable to find shelter in the truck that would normally be secured to the ground. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth, (y/n)!” Anger dripped from his words as Tyler kept fumbling around. He was too distracted to pick up on the tears welling up in her eyes, too distracted to fully notice the panic she was swallowed by. Fears buzzed through her mind, fears that grew louder with every passing second. 

“Fuck, I don’t want to die with you by my side, that’s the worst scenario ever.” Her words drew a laugh from Tyler who stared at her for a second or two. The whole thing seemed surreal, not once had his truck died on him before, not once had he worried about his safety while he was driving it straight into a tornado, all until today. 

“Trust me, darling, you’re also not my first choice to spend the last minutes of my life with.” The truck was rattling from the heavy winds, shaking them while (y/n)’s hands darted out to stabilize herself. Another shake followed seconds later, too powerful to catch herself before her temple connected with the metallic outline of the window, forcing a pained groan out of (y/n). 

“Shit, are you alright?” Her reply was swallowed by the sound of Tyler’s truck roaring to life, drawing relieved sighs from both while he managed to secure the truck. Her shaking hand found her temple, unable to bite down a hiss as blood coated her fingers. She felt his eyes on her, quietly watching (y/n) before he reached for her chin, tilting her head in his direction. 

“Does it hurt?” She barely understood the question, drowned out by the sounds of the tornado which was about to swallow the truck. (Y/n) tried to ignore the concern dripping from his words, concern that also swam in the bright pupils wandering over her features. 

“Of course it hurts, you dipshit!” Tyler let go of her instantly as if her skin was suddenly burning him. His jaw muscles ticked in anger, eyes focused ahead while darkness momentarily swallowed them. (Y/n) reached for her backpack to press a tissue against her wound, hissing once again as the thin fabric made contact with her skin. 

“What did I ever do to you for you to be such a bitch whenever I’m around?” Tyler’s words drew her glassy eyes back to his angry features, breath getting stuck in her throat as her eyes found his. (Y/n) had to look away after a few seconds, trying to ground herself before finding her voice again, solemnly focused on Tyler and not on the tornado both had been chasing for most parts of their morning. 

“How can you even ask me that? Did all the chasing shake your memory? You fucked me over the first times we met, Owens. You left us behind while we counted on your help.” Her voice was cold, fuelled by the anger thumping through her veins like a drug poisoning her system. Everything in her screamed at (y/n) to chase the distance, to move away from Tyler as quickly as possible. She had been too close for too long already, needing to get away from the man who made her feel all kinds of things she couldn’t put a name on. 

“I fucked you over? You stole my data, all that work was lost because of you, of course I didn’t trust you no more!” Tyler’s voice boomed through the truck, almost as loud as the tornado had been. Her mind was racing, knowing that she hadn’t stolen anything from him which left her wondering what he was talking about. 

“I didn’t steal shit from you, why should I? We work on different areas, Owens. Your data wouldn’t help me.” No longer was she close to screaming, no longer was her voice guided by anger and hate as it slowly began to settle in that both had been stuck in heavy miscommunication for a while now. 

“But only your group was around that week, and Michael.” A “Fuck” left Tyler seconds after he had ended his sentence, wondering how he could have been that stupid. Of course, it had been the sketchy guy he had been forced to work with on the project, a guy who had bailed on Tyler at the first given chance, blaming (y/n) and her team for their mishaps. 

“Seems like you need to work on your people skills, Owens.” Chuckles broke out of (y/n) as she shook her head at him, followed by a groan as her headache settled in. 

“Let’s get you to a hospital, and then we’ve got some talking to do.“ 

…… 

“Who would have thought that a massive band aid would look that good on you.” Tyler shot her his signature smirk while she found her way back to him. She was a bit uneasy on her trembling feet, too shaken by the last hour and the emotional whirlwind both had been caught in, from thinking they were about to die to realising that they got to live another day where their enemy slowly turned into somebody else. 

“Shut it, Owens.” She rolled her eyes at him, brushing past Tyler but being unable to escape him due to the fingers that found her belt loops, pulling her back in. (Y/n) collided with his broad chest, having to place her hands against his shirt before she could lose her balance. 

“How about a thank you, huh?” He was walking a fine line, risking another spiral of anger she’d instantly pull him into, but the smile tugging on her lips told a completely different story. (Y/n) stared up at him for a second or two before one of her hands wandered up his neck, pulling him down to her to brush her lips against his ear.

“For a thank you you will have to work harder than that.” And with a soft chuckle clawing through (y/n), she pushed Tyler away to make it out of the hospital. He stared at her for a second or two before snapping out of his trance, unable to bite down his grin while jogging after her. 

His hand clamped down on her wrist, once again forcing her to a halt before she could open the passenger door of his truck. (Y/n) found herself getting lost in his bright eyes, not used to the sudden warmth his touch now pushed through her instead of the anger she no longer felt. Both moved at the same time, getting lost in one another’s embrace while he dipped his head down.

But before he could kiss her, Tyler angled his head to the side, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth, “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling, and I ain’t one for losing.”

……

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep on me, darling.” Tyler was sitting on her motel bed, pressed against (y/n). They had shared dinner a while ago, finding shelter in the dark room while she tried to stay awake, all because of her doctor’s orders. 

“Well then do something to entertain me, the movie sucks.” Her chuckles rang in his ears, sounds that made his heart beat faster as he gazed down at her while her eyes found his. Tyler pondered over his choices for a second or two before he tilted his head down and kissed her, softly pressing his lips against (y/n)’s.

It took her a second to give in to the touch, allowing her hand to find the back of his neck to pull Tyler further down towards her. Their lips kept meeting, sharing desperate kisses that were fuelled by the emotions both were still a stranger to after deeply hating the other for the past years. A hate that had always been accompanied by a form of lust and longing for the other, longings they had never dared to even think about for longer than a handful of seconds.

Tyler shuffled around to hover over her, keeping her trapped between him and the bed while her hands moved from his neck to his shirt, slowly popping open the first few buttons. Her fingernails scratched at his skin as she tried to push the fabric down his broad shoulders, leaving him to groan at the feeling of her skin pressed against his.

For a second, he interrupted the kiss, chasing the distance to rid himself of his shirt. (Y/n) had seized the moment to reach for his belt, unbuckling it with a kind of urgency that made both their hearts race even faster. Her shirt followed moments later, exposing her bra-clad chest to his wandering eyes - a sight that made his cock twitch in his tighter growing jeans. 

“Lean back, baby, let me do the work, you shouldn’t move much.” His voice dripped with lust, a low growl that shot shudders down her spine. (Y/n) sank back into the pillows, watching Tyler move closer to slowly undo her bra. Within seconds he had latched onto her right nipple while his hand palmed her left breast, making her sigh in relief. 

Tyler seemed to know exactly how she needed to be touched, how to draw her closer to the edge she’d eventually fall from. He was everything she hadn’t known she needed, while he had deep down always known that having (y/n) would mean his end. Every second was cherished by the both of them, though while Tyler tried to calm himself, (y/n) silently prayed that he’d move faster. 

“Tyler,” his name rolled off her tongue like a Sunday morning prayer, repeated over and over again. Their eyes held contact as he kissed his way down to her jeans, undoing them with skilled fingers to pull them down her legs with her panties in tow. And there she laid, naked in front of him as he thanked his lucky stars for pushing them into this mess. His fingers itched to take a picture of her, needing to remember this very moment until he’d take his last breath, but the sigh of his name forced him to move again. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. Let me take care of you.” With her thighs spread for him to settle between, Tyler kissed his way to her aching core. His calloused fingertips felt rough against her pulsing bundle, adding enough friction to get her to arch her back. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close the second his tongue brushed her folds, groaning at her taste. 

“Oh fuck, Ty’, need more.” His chuckles vibrated on her skin, making her shudder while he pushed two fingers into her. Her walls fluttered around his digits, curled against her swollen spot while he sucked on her bundle. Moans clawed through (y/n), knowing that he was pushing her towards her orgasm all too quickly. 

“You taste so sweet, how could I have missed out on this for so long.” Tyler’s groans made her chuckle - sounds that bled into moans as he sucked on her clit again. She gave it a few more seconds before pushing him away, leaving him confused while she tried to catch her breath.

“Fuck me, make me cum on your cock.” Her whispered words made him groan, forcing Tyler to move to get rid of his jeans and boxers, exposing his aching cock to her eyes. (Y/n) made a silent note to suck him off later tonight, needing to feel him rest on her tongue. 

She watched Tyler rip open a condom with his teeth, rolling it down his cock before settling between her thighs again. He hovered over her, had one hand pressed to the mattress next to her pillow, while the other held onto her hip. Their eyes stayed connected as he pushed into her, leaving both groaning in relief. 

“You’re even tighter around my cock, you’ll be the death of me, darling.” His words felt like praises, making her lightheaded and aching for air to flood her gasping lungs. Her walls fluttered around him to pull him in deeper, allowing Tyler to push fully in before pulling out again, set on a slow rhythm. 

“Faster, please.” An almost devilish smirk tugged on his lips, his bright eyes twinkled with mischief but his thrusts stayed slow, calculated almost. 

“You can’t move too much, baby, gotta take care of your head.” Her teeth were buried in her lower lip, leaving marks while she stared up at him with annoyance laced in her gaze. Tyler could only chuckle at her while fucking into her deeper, clearly enjoying her struggling. One of her hands found his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss while wrapping her legs around his waist.

Both groaned in unison as she tugged him in closer, wondering how they fit together so perfectly. Too much time has been lost over the last years, time they could have spent just like that, pressed together in the most intimate way imaginable. Time they now had to make up for, chasing highs and lows together, giving in to the emotions they had to adapt to, all while falling in love with one another. 

“Stop teasing me, I don’t care about my head.” Her words left him chuckling, spurring him on to move a tad bit faster - but not nearly fast enough to push her closer towards the high she was aching for. 

“Ask nicely for it.” It was a simple command - a command she’d normally curse him for with calling him all sorts of names. But she was desperate, aching for her orgasm only he could push through her now.

“Please, Tyler. Fuck me harder, make me cum.” He didn’t reply verbally, only moved faster with a smirk resting on his lips. She left marks on his back with her fingernails, making her shudder against him while her free hand found her aching bundle of nerves, giving her the needed push.

Tyler watched her fall apart beneath him, a sight that left his chest swelling with pride. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while his own moved closer. With a deep groan Tyler followed her down the edge moments later, forehead pressed against hers, hand fisting the bed sheet. 

He pulled out of her, got rid of the condom and found his way back to her to pull (y/n) against his warm chest. Both were chasing their breaths while clinging to the other, allowing it all to finally sink in. 

“How’s your head?” Tyler’s whispered words made her smile, pressing a kiss to his naked chest before allowing her eyes to find his bright ones. She cupped his cheek with one hand to feel his stubble pressing against her palm, cherishing the calm moment that felt all too new to them both.

“Not hurting, thank you for taking care of me.” She pressed another kiss to his chest before letting her head drop against it, hearing his slightly accelerated heart pound in his chest. 

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One FortyThree

Owens holds the metal thing at the end of the stethoscope to warm it up before pressing it to the bend of Eddie’s elbow, and Steve doesn’t like him, even if he does seem to be thoughtful about what he’s doing. He also gives Eddie his full attention and time to talk his way through his thoughts, and how good he is with Eddie makes Steve’s blood fucking boil. “Blood pressure is good. Could you pull up the back of your shirt?” He spends some time asking Eddie to take deep breathes while he moves the thing around, listening. “That all sounds normal, can I do your temperature too?”

Eddie nods and happily opens up for the thermometer.

“And...that’s normal too. Did you have any more symptoms you want to talk me through?”

Eddie shakes his head, curls shifting over his shoulders as he fidgets and settles his shirt again.

Owens hums, “so one bout of nausea, and vomiting. Weight gain, which we did confirm that you have gained a little, but with your build Eddie, I’d say that’s a good thing. You’ve been more active with work and your friends, so you may simply still be building some muscle. Steve’s having a recurring dream, and he thinks you should drink milk?”

“And not beer,” Eddie adds, scowling at Steve briefly.

Owens sits, thinking for a second. He’s clearly taking it seriously, which irritates Steve beyond reason. Someone who was involved in the torture of children cannot be kind; it’s got to be an act. When Owens shows his true colors, Steve is going to be right there to gloat. “Okay, all that’s left is for me to take some bloods, if you’re okay with that.” Eddie flops his arm out in answer, “I’ll call with the results in a couple of days.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Steve reaches over reflexively, pulling the strands of hair free from where Eddie’s practically chewing them, “no. I think you’re fine.”

“Okay...do you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Steve makes a dismissive noise, “pfffft, of course not.”

“What then?” Eddie waves his hands about dramatically.

“I...don’t know. Maybe you’re getting superpowers, like El?”

Eddie spends the rest of the day frowning at random inanimate items, but he doesn’t manage to move anything with his mind powers.

“Stevie?” Eddie sounds part curious and part amused, “what are you doing?”

Steve’s borrowed his mothers clothes steamer for his shirt. Most of her clothes far too expensive to simply press. Steve wriggles the head of the thing around, “it’s a steamer, it gets the creases out...I need to look smart tomorrow, I...have a job interview.”

Steve has the shirt hanging from the shower rail in their bathroom.

“For something new? Not Family Video?” Eddie leans against the counter.

“Uhm...yeah, it’s for working at a school. Well, Kindergarten, in a school.”

Eddie’s face brightens, “little kids?” He sounds excited about it.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’ll be, helping the teacher I guess. If I get the job. The hours will be different, but it’s more money.”

Eddie just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy Stevie love.”

Steve sighs at himself, setting the shirt straight and turning the steamer off, he doesn’t even know what he was so worried about, “I applied last week, well, posted the letters, the day after the pot luck. I should have told you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie smiles brightly.

“No. No baby,” Eddie pulls Steve close, still leaning against the counter. Steve lifts their linked hands, twisting Eddie’s engagement ring on his finger, “we’re in it together. A new job is a big deal, so we have to tell each other these things. One day we might...get our own place. And that means we have to pay bills to keep the water and the electricity on, we would rely on each other. I was wrong not to tell you.”

“I...okay. I think I understand. So...when it comes to important things, we should just say?”

“Yeah, yeah we should.”

“Okay,” Eddie frowns for a second, thinking, but then visibly brightens, grinning, “I got a C plus!”

“You did? On what?”

“English literature,” Eddie still kind of says it a little stilted ‘lit-er-ra-ture,’ but it’s getting stronger, “she said it was very clear, but I need to,” Eddie frowns up at the ceiling a second, “analyze the language more fully, to highlight deeper understanding. Or something.”

“Baby, that’s so great,” Steve kisses him on the cheek, “and the math?”

Eddie looks suddenly petulant, “math is hard and doesn’t make any sense.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “yup. I feel you. You need to get someone who isn’t me to help with that.”

Eddie nods, then sighs, “Dustin.”

“Afraid so.”

Eddie scrambles over the back of the couch, desperate to get to the ringing phone. Steve sighs, hoping that it is Owens this time, just so Eddie will stop panicking every time it rings. He’s spent the last two days jumping at every sound and leaping for the phone whenever it rings.

He’s probably been offending people with the disappointed way he hands the phone off to Steve every time it hasn’t been Owens.

“It’s for you,” Eddie hands him the phone, frowning, but not his disappointed frown, which probably means it’s someone Eddie doesn’t know.

“Mr. Harrington?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling in regards to your recent interview, we were wondering if you’d like to come in for a trial. We need copies of your identification and, subject to checks-” Steve just agrees. The interview went sort of okay, he thought. Everyone was nice enough, and he was enthusiastic about the little kids, but the fact that he had no experience at all really showed. Steve had left the interview feeling kind of deflated, so he’d tried to put it from his mind since.

He figured he'd just leave it for a week or so, and when he didn't hear anything, he could just try something else.

Steve scribbles down what he needs to bring on the notepad next to the phone, which is good, because he’s not taking in a single thing he’s being told. He thinks he ends the conversation politely, but honestly it’s a bit of a blur.

Eddie’s got his trying to understand face on, and no doubt he heard everything being said with his super powered hearing, “did you get the job? A trial?”

“I, yeah…I think as long as the trial goes well then yes. Yes, I think so?” Steve tries to go back through what the woman's just told him, the news sinking in enough that he’s starting to feel excited about it, “yes, as long as my security check thing is okay, so I can work with the kids.”

Eddie breaks into a beaming smile, and Steve can’t help but feel a little pleased with himself, “you’re going to do so great! And Monday...we need to get you a lunch box! Like mine! You won’t be able to eat red vines at work any more.”

“No, I guess I won’t. I’m probably going to need some more actual shirts-”

Steve is cut off by the phone ringing again, and Eddie practically dives for it.

“Owens! Hello!”

Oh finally, Steve thinks to himself, “he’s just going to say you’re fine,” he mumbles at Eddie.

Eddie’s frowning, “what hormone? What does that do?” There’s a long minute of silence, “what does gravid mean?” Eddie’s frown becomes more and more spectacular, “but I’m not-” Eddie looks up at Steve helplessly. Steve offers to take the phone but Eddie shakes his head at Steve’s outstretched hand, “okay. Yeah, we’re on our way.”

Eddie hangs up, “well? We’re going to see him now?” It makes Steve a little uneasy that Owens wants to see him straight away.

“He wants to do a scan.”

“What kind of scan?” Steve is instantly suspicious along with worried, “he wants to see you now? Right now? Is there something wrong?”

“He doesn’t think so but there’s...things in my blood that don’t make sense. He said if I was a snake I’d be gravid.”

“What the fuck is gravid?”

“Uhm…” Eddie touches his stomach, looking down at himself, “eggs?”

Steve swallows thickly, reaching to rest his hand over Eddie’s. Eddie moves to rest both of his hands on top, holding Steve’s hand close to himself, black nails pressing a little, “you mean...like a baby? In there? Right now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ, that...that can’t be? Can it?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says again, looking helpless and more than a little worried.

Steve breathes out slowly, “okay. Okay get your coat, lets go and find out.”

The car ride is mostly silent, but Steve senses Eddie’s unease and rests his hand on Eddie’s thigh, “it’ll be fine. We’re together, so it’ll be fine.”

Eddie just nods, fiddling with his rings.

Eddie’s laid out on the bed at the motel, stuff spread across his tummy, “this may just be a simple quirk of Eddie’s transformation, my concern is that they will need to be removed surgically, if I can actually find evidence of anything,” Owens is saying as he moves the thing around. Steve has no idea where all this equipment came from, and to be honest, he doesn’t want to know. Owens must have already been unloading it all when he called.

“What, why?”

“An operation?”

Steve and Eddie both speak at the same time, both concerned. Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand, face full of fear.

“Well, how else?” Owens says absently, moving the thing around on Eddie’s stomach, “they can’t possibly be fertilized, and male genitalia isn’t exactly designed to…” he finishes with a thoughtful hum, “there’s definitely something there. Eddie your internal organs aren’t laid out exactly as I would expect, but I only have the x-rays from before you got your legs, so it’s...difficult to tell, considering the change, but there’s definitely something there.”

“Wait, just wait a second, are you saying Eddie does have eggs inside him, right now?”

Owens follows the low waistband of Eddie’s jeans with the wand thing, “I’m fairly sure, yes, just here.” He points to the screen, a lot of it makes no fucking sense at all to Steve, but there’s some dark splotches and he takes Owens word for it. “So we would have to remove them. My concern is that they would eventually begin to break down, causing infection, or worse.”

Steve rubs his forehead, slowly realizing what Owens means, “and what if they are...fertilized?”

“Well, I’m working on the assumption that isn’t the case, since Eddie is male. Well, can’t be the case, unless...Eddie, in the Upside Down, did you ever see any part of the reproductive process?”

Eddie frowns at Steve, “did you see anything ever lay any eggs baby?”

Eddie nods, “only Demogorgons. After a fight with each other. The...hurt one, laid the eggs. I don’t...it was dangerous, to be around, but sometimes they were hurt bad enough that they might die. So, it was safe enough for us to eat some.”

“Eat some?” Owens is carefully wiping the jelly off, but he stops for a second looking between Steve and Eddie, “this is how you transform? Or how you would have done, had you not had Steve’s...toes, available.” Eddie nods, “and then you would become a Demogorgon?”

Eddie nods again, this is stuff they’ve been over before, but neither Steve nor Eddie have revealed anything further.

“So it was about who won the fight, and not about...say, male or female?”

“I don’t think so. Demogorgon...have both I think.”

Owens sits back for a second, “there is precedent for it. It makes sense, in a way. The party laying the eggs would be more vulnerable during the process, and their invested energy would be much higher. I’m assuming that creating the eggs themselves, rather than just being the party the fertilizes them, would take a much greater investment of energy.”

“I think I have...I’m like a Demogorgon. Kind of.”

“Right,” Owens says gently, “in that you..?”

Steve does not like talking about this. It feels inherently very private, and he really doesn’t want to talk about it with Owens of all people.

But he’s the closest thing Eddie has to a doctor, and the idea of eggs rotting inside Eddie and making him really sick is causing enough concern that Steve knows they need to pull the plaster off.

“Eddie’s...not exactly built like a human guy, down there.”

“He isn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head, also clearly a little pained by the conversation, “I’m...different to Steve. There’s a way in. Like a...girl?” He hedges, speaking softly.

“Oh.” Owens sits back, letting Eddie pull his shirt down, “I thought this would just be a...well. I assumed it was just an odd test result due to Eddie not being human. I wasn’t expecting the possibility of actual...so if there is indeed something…Eddie how would you feel about me examining you?”

“Would you be able to tell better?”

“Well...yes. I wasn’t aware that your physiology was...so different. A...general health check might be...beneficial? There were no evidence of any reproductive organs at all when we x-rayed you at the lab, when you had a tail. But now...well, you’re half human now, so I guess this is...possible? It makes sense that Eddie’s genetic code has filled in the gaps with human code so...it’s best I have a look.”

Steve wants to say no, he really, desperately, wants to stop this from happening, but...it doesn’t feel like it’s up to him.

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly.

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve tells him, soft but firm. He really does not like the idea of Owens poking around down there but...he also kind of feels like they need to know. What if Eddie’s health is at risk?

“I...want to know. Stay with me?” Eddie grips his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere baby.”

Owens is continues to be really considerate, which makes Steve grit his teeth so hard they hurt. He leaves the room while Eddie strips his bottom half. He’s given Eddie a soft towel to lie down on and another to cover himself with. It’s a little awkward, because despite all the kit Owens has with him, this is still a motel room. The best they can do is Eddie lying with his ass at the bottom of the bed, one leg bent enough that his heel is hooked onto the edge of the bed next to his ass.

Steve kneels next to him, rubbing a thumb in soothing circles on Eddie’s palm while Owens gathers some things and puts some gloves on. He pulls over a chair, “still okay for me to go ahead?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.”

“Okay, you can tell me to stop at any time and we will, right away. I wasn’t expecting to do a,” Owens thinks briefly, “internal exam, so I’m improvising a little, but if anything makes you uncomfortable, just say, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers.

Owens holds the end of a small torch in his mouth, improvising. It’s not ideal but needs to happen, Steve guesses.

Owens mumbles something around the torch, and Eddie frowns up at Steve, looking scared and upset enough that Steve wants to call a halt to the whole thing already, but Eddie just squeezes his hand tighter. Steve can’t see what Owens is doing under the tent of the towel, but Eddie flinches and suddenly moves, pulling away, drawing his legs up.

Owens' chair creeks as it topples over, the torch gets dropped as Owens makes a shocked noise. Before Steve can really process what’s happening Eddie is pressed against him, sat up and dragging the towel tight against himself, and Owens is sitting on his ass on the floor, hand held to his cheek, looking shocked, “Eddie, you okay?”

Eddie nods, but he looks near tears, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it would do that.”

Owens pulls his hand away from his cheek, looking at his fingers, “it’s okay there’s no blood, you didn’t...break the skin.”

There is a pink mark through, a clear scrape on Owens cheek, just below his eye, Steve can see it from here, “Eddie, did your dick just bite Owens?” He asks before he can think it through, Eddie just clings to him tighter, so Steve wraps him up in a big hug, “it’s okay.”

“I am fine Eddie just...startled. Give me a moment I should...probably get cleaned up.”

“Eddie!” Steve calls through the trees, “come on baby!”

Steve actually finds him pretty quickly, squatting next to one of his saplings. He’s curled up into a little ball, hugging his knees, hair sticking out everywhere from under his bobble hat.

“Eddie, baby, come on, it’s freezing out here.”

“No,” it sounds petulant, but Steve knows he’s still really upset, so he doesn’t push it. Eddie had cried on and off on the way home, and headed out into the yard. Steve had given him twenty minutes of alone time but it really is cold out here, and he’s worried, and doesn’t want Eddie to be alone.

Steve crouches next to him, “checking on your trees huh?”

“Do you think they will be okay?” Eddie’s voice is soft, but he’s not crying any more. He does have faint tear trails on his cheeks, Eddie’s tears still not quite clear, even now.

“I don’t know a lot about trees baby but...I think they’re supposed to lose their leaves and everything in the winter, and they still look okay,” some of them are tall enough now to have a few spindly branches on them, “we have to wait for spring, okay? We have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see,” Eddie repeats absently, pressing his cold pinked nose into his coat sleeve.

“Can we go in? You need to get warmed up, okay? Owens is fine, it was just a scrape.” Eddie just nods, and Steve knows he’s upset about hurting someone; Eddie hates that. Doesn’t like to think he would ever hurt anyone. He stays silent though, and doesn’t answer.

“And I’ve...been thinking,” Steve volunteers, “if you want Owens to check you out properly I could, you know, just block him in. I’m pretty sure he won’t hurt me, I could just have my hand in the way.”

“Never hurt you, Stevie love.”

"What do you think?"

"I...maybe. I was...scared. It was different to before, but still kind of the same."

"Before...what do you mean baby?"

Eddie swallows thickly, before finally lifting his head to look at Steve, "before, when they would take me out of the tank."

Steve has to close his eyes briefly and let the horror wash over him before he answers, "baby, I am so sorry, I didn't even think of it. Or that it would remind you of that." And Steve berates himself for not thinking of it; Eddie was literally experimented on, of course this would affect him, "you really don't have to do it again if you want want to."

Eddie huffs out of his nose, the cold air making a faint cloud, "we maybe should find out, though?"

"Come on, lets go inside, it's cold out here.”

Eddie lets Steve pull him up, and they walk into the house, Eddie’s mittened hand held firmly.

“Do you want to try again?” Steve asks, helping gently with the arms of Eddie’s coat. Eddie shakes his hair out after pulling off his hat.

“I think...maybe we have to?” Eddie says quietly, and oh so sad. “Stevie, what if there’s…” he touches his stomach absently, huge brown eyes looking to Steve. But Steve doesn’t know. He can’t know...and...what if there are eggs, like Owens seems to think?

What if there is a baby?

It’s...almost too much to deal with. The possibility of it. Something Steve had so easily dismissed as never ever going to happen. There’s a kernel of hope under all that worry and confusion, that Steve keeps wrapped up, shoved right to the back.

“You’re probably right baby, about trying again, you want me to call him? It’s...probably the only way we’re going to find out.” Eddie nods, “want him to come here? Or the motel?”

“Here,” Eddie says right away.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll call him, and then hot chocolate, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t say a thing about whizzy cream, so Steve knows it’s bad.

“It’s okay baby, it’s still fine, okay?” Steve’s multitasking. They’re in a guest bedroom; Steve didn’t really want Eddie having an invasive medical examination in their bed. Kind of feels like the sort of thing that would leave an uncomfortable memory.

Steve has one hand in Eddie’s hair, and the other cupped at the juncture of Eddie’s thighs. Eddie’s penis is desperately trying to get through the barrier of Steve’s hand. It’s not trying to hurt Steve, the petals are pulled tight closed. The blunted head is pressing and trying to burrow through Steve’s fingers, just straight up trying to force it’s way past to get at Owens.

It’s angry. Sometimes it pulls back and goes for a headbutt, and Steve’s vaguely concerned Eddie’s dick will remember this and come for him in his sleep. Or something.

Eddie nods, “I’m okay,” but he has a pained look on his face, “nearly done?”

“All done actually,” Owens pulls back, withdrawing the thing he’s using to get a better look. It looks like a ducks bill crossed with a metal torture device to Steve.

Eddie’s dick doesn’t go back in until Eddie is securely wrapped up in a blanket.

“Okay, Eddie,” Owens starts slowly, turning off his head torch. He was better prepared this time. “The layout of your insides is...understandably different to what I’m used to seeing. That being said, I believe you have a kind of,” Owens gestures vaguely, which isn’t in the slightest bit helpful, Steve can’t help but think. “Like a pouch, and from what I can see, it does have eggs in it.”

“Eggs, plural?” Steve tries not to panic, he really does.

“Yes, but there’s already signs that some have developed further than others. Some are still very small and dark, some a little bigger, but...there’s one that’s visibly larger than the rest. It’s too soon to tell but...I think that shows that at least one is definitely growing. Eddie, you said Demogorgans lay eggs?” Eddie nods, “okay, so...it makes sense to me that your body would try and find a middle ground between the human way of doing things, and your Upside Down biology. If Demogorgons produce many eggs, then maybe of the few I can see, only one is developing because of the human parts of you.”

“So...what does that mean?”

“I think...it’s possible...that one egg may keep growing into a baby.”

Part FortyFive

[apollosdaydreams]

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Reader doesn’t know the hat rule, so Tyler teaches her it

Warnings: smut (18+ only), age gap?, Tyler: 28, Reader: 23. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) Sorry if this sucks in still pretty new to writing smut lol,



Tyler and you were at the rodeo, enjoying each other's company after a frustrating day of chasing. You looked over on your left where Tyler was sitting, giving him a small smile. Looking up at his hat then back to his eyes.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He said while cocking his head to the side slightly and smirking. You looked down with a soft smile shaking your head slightly, then looking back up at him and shrugging your shoulders.

“Nothing.” You said.

“Nothing?” He replied. “I can see the gears turning sweetheart.” You just rolled your eyes at him and playfully pushed his shoulder. “Just enjoy the show Ty.” You replied with a soft laugh. You then turned to watch the rodeo and Ty couldn’t take his eyes off you, he just gave you a soft smile, eventually pulling his eyes away and started to watch as well. As you watched the rodeo you would often look over to your side to watch Tyler. He was leaning over and his forearms were on his knees, his tongue sticking out in focus. You giggled a little bit and grabbed the hat off his head, Tyler then quickly looked over in confusion before he smirked. You gave him a smile and a small laugh.

“I think I look better in this than you, what do you think?” You asked, as you playfully pretended to strike poses. Tyler couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Yeah you do….” He mumbled.

Tyler and you were both walking back to the motel you and the others were staying at, Tylers hat still on your head. You guys walked up to the other Tornado Wranglers, and they were sitting by a fire they had made. Boone looked over at Ty and you and smirked when he saw that you were wearing Tylers hat.

“Nice hat you got there y/n.” He said with a soft laugh, and the others joined in on it. You were unaware of why they were laughing, you really thought that they thought that Tyler’s hat looked good on you.

“I know right!” you said happily. “I think I look better in this than Ty does.”

Boone looked at Tyler, then back at you. “You know what they say y/n?” he asked, and you gave him a slightly confused look. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You cocked your head to the side for a second before realizing what he meant. Your eyes widened and your face turned bright red, you looked over at Tyler with slight shock and horror written all over your face.

“Oh my god Tyler! I didn't know, I didn't mean to imply anything.” you said quickly, taking off his hat and handing it over to him. At that moment Tyler realized that you didn't know that hat rule. “It's alright sweetheart, don't worry about it.” He said softly, putting his hat back on and trying to calm you down and not embarrass you even more. The pet name only made you blush harder. You were embarrassed now, wanting to dig yourself a hole and never crawl out of it.

“I’m getting tired guys, I’ll see you in the morning.” You said softly. Kate looked at you with soft eyes, knowing the crush you had on Tyler. “Night y/n. Sleep well.” She said, the others also saying goodnight.

You made your way up the stairs of the motel and pulled out your keys to your room that you were sharing with Kate for the night. Before you could get the key in the door you heard someone clearing their throat behind you, looking at who made the noise you looked behind you and saw it was Tyer.

“Oh, hey Ty…” you said quietly, before he could get a word out you were already apologizing. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by wearing your hat, I honestly didn’t know about the ‘hat rule’ ” you said with an awkward laugh and using finger quotes over ‘hat rule’. Tyler smiled at your rambling. “It’s alright sweetheart, plus I did think you looked really good in my hat, even if you didn’t know the hat rule.” Tyler joked. You rolled his eyes at him and playfully gave his shoulder a soft push. “Oh shut your yapper Tyler.” You said laughing. Tyler couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughing. “But you know it’s fine if you weren't trying to insinuate anything.” He said, making a small step forward to you. “But if you were, well I wouldn't be complaining sweetheart.” He said with his signature smirk. You could feel your cheeks redden slightly, looking up at Tyler, then looking at his lips, then back at his eyes, before you took a small step forward and cupped his face with your hands pulling him closer to you. Tyler pushed you against the wall, kissing you hard. Teeth clashing every once in a while before you pull away gasping for air.

“Let's take this to your room cowboy….” You whispered.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Tyler said with a side smile.

Shaking your head slightly and letting out a small laugh you followed Tyler to his room, he quickly pulled the keys to the room out of his pocket and opened the door, letting you go in first, and quickly following behind you. Before he closed the door he put the ‘do not disturb' placard on the door, locking it behind him. You quickly stepped out of your shoes, and Tyler quickly did the same thing, then quickly pulled you in for a deep kiss, slowly bringing you over to his bed, once the back of your legs made contact with the bed he pushed you softly. You then pulled Tyler down by the collar of his shirt. His hands slowly raked down your body before he started to toy with the button on your jean shorts.

“Can I take these off ya? Dyin’ to see what you have under them.” He said kissing your neck, making you moan. “Yes, take them off please.” Tyler then quickly pulled them off of you, and then flipped you over so you were on top. He then reached for his belt taking it off and throwing it off to the side, before he unbuttoned his pants also throwing it off to the side. Leaving him in his boxers and his shirt, his length showing through his boxers from how hard he had become.

His hands slid under your shirt, you shivered at the feeling. Not knowing if it was because his hands were cold or something else. You then slowly felt him begin to take off your shirt, tossing it to the side. Leaving you only in a lacy bra and matching panites.

“God sweetheart you, are just, wow, fucking beautiful.” He mumbled against your neck, making you blush.

“Ty I think you should take this off.” Tugging at his t-shirt.

“Fuck sweetheart, I wanna see you with out anything on.” He said reaching for the hem of your shirt. Looking at you in the eyes, “Is that alright? Can I take this off?” He asked, but you couldn’t find yourself to form any words, only nodding your head. “Sweetheart I need words.” He said, you gulped and took a deep breath. “Yes, please, yes you can take it off Ty. Pulling your shirt off and tossing it to the side with the other articles of loose clothing. His thumbs playing with your painty line, as you grinded on top of him. His hands were all over your body, reaching for the back of your bra he quickly got it off, his hands then slowly moving to your panties.

“How much do you like these?” He asked.

Shrugging, “I mean I like them I guess.” You said confused, before you could ask why Tyler quickly ripped them in half throwing the ruined panties away. Gasping, “Tyler!” you said. “Those were expensive.” Tyler grinned into your neck. “I’ll buy you one in every color sweetheart.”

“You should take these off…” You said pulling at the waistband of his boxers. He then brought his hands down and quickly pulled them down slightly, his cock then sprung to his stomach. Looking down at him, your eyes widened.

“Ty, I don't think that will fit.” You said looking at his dick. Tyler smiled smugly, bringing you closer to him by your hips, both of you gasping slightly. “It will fit sweetheart.” He said. You then looked down and grabbed his dick lining him up with you as you slowly sank down. Tyler groaned as you slowly fit all of him in you. “See told you it will fit.” He said breathing heavily. You rolled your eyes at him and you slowly began to move up and down his length. You looked over to your side and saw the hat that was on Tyler’s head just moments ago. Reaching for it you put it on your own head, smiling down at Tyler. Tyler moaned, he couldn't believe the sight that was in front of him.

“You look so perfect, wearing my hat, in my bed.” He whispered, hips lips trailing down your neck.

“Stop talking.” You muttered, pulling him closer to you. Tyler chuckled softly, “yes ma’am.” He said, his accent strong and heavy. He gripped your hips harder helping you ride him. Your hands were resting on Tylers chest, you then felt Tyler move his hands towards your clit. Moaning out as the pad of his finger made contact with the bundle of nerves.

“Ty… please.” You moaned breathy. He laughed slightly, rubbing the bundle of nerves harder and thrusting up harder. Before you knew it you coils feel your legs begin to shake as you came crying out.

“Holy fuck.” Tyler whispered, finishing after you, his pace slowing.

*^*^*^*^*^

You were laying down next to Tyler, both of you trying to get air back into your lungs.

​​

“That was-”

“Incredible, I know.” Tyler said, answering for you.

Leaning your head on Tylers shoulder you jumped slightly as you heard someone knock.

“Next time would it kill ya to be quiet?!” Boone yelled from outside.

You blushed in embarrassment, Tyler only laughed and brought you closer to him. “Yeah, yeah, sure Boone!”

Spoiler alert you didn't listen to Boone.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

© 2025 on tumblr apollosdaydreams do not translate/remake/repost my works on any platform without authorized permission.

Would really appreciate it if you could reblog! :)

I hope you guys enjoyed this fic, if you have any suggestions please don't be scared to comment or reach out to me!!

[bwobgames]

Now where are the little-

“Mr. Oliver”

“Oh! hello Sim-“

“Simon?!”

“Hello”

“How are you-?! How much milk was sacrificed for you to get this tall?!”

“Oh! I got into volleyball. I also brought the hat you gave me”

“Ah, that’s not to say the hat made me tall actually I think it does give me a bit of height but it’s mostly sport Mom wanted basketball but I don’t really care much about that but she still wanted me to sport so I got into volleyball and also swimming but swimming takes a lot of drying and cloth changing so it’s a bit bleh so-“

 “Hat funny”

“Glad you like it. I’m afraid you’ll be able to break my bones soon.”

“Wait, where’s Nadia?”

“What do you want”

“Woah, you look like a Victorian lady”

“I think you’re mixing up your eras, detective. I’d look way more pompous if that was the case”

“Hmm…”

“What? What are you looking at”

“Heh.”

“I’ll kill you”

“I didn’t say anything~”

“I’ll throw your body down the rails”

“Mr. Beebo! Mr. Ángel! Miss Vivi!”

“Owen! It’s been so- What’s wrong with your face.”

“Huh? What do you mean? You don’t dig the ‘stache?”

“I’d rather dig my own grave.”

“You look like a magician”

“It’s cool!”

“Thank you, Miss Vivi and Mister Beebo! I’m glad to know there’s still people who are not afraid to innovate in this world”

“Wait, you’re 18 or something now, right? You can call us by our names now! You won’t get sued!”

“Scary… But I’ll try!”

“Mister-! I mean. Private Detective Oliver Beebo. Look what I brought!”

“Oh! I’m guessing you finally mastered all chords?”

“Yeah! Although I’m still a bit slow for performing any songs…”

“But it’s okay, I’ll practice! I’ll be the guy who plays at campfires when nobody asked them too! Just like you!”

“…You’re a menace”

“Hehe”

“Mari, isn’t about time the train goes?”

“Not yet, the train will probably arrive a bit earlier so we can gather our seats, should be soon now”

“Do we have our own seats? Are they reclinable? Is sleeping in the floor allowed”

“No, of course not. There are cabins with beds. There aren’t that many though, so some of us we’ll have to share”

“Trains with beds? I didn’t know the old times had that”

“That’s true, while this train is an old model, it’s been refurnished to nowadays standards”

“This train is supposed to be a test for making more of these! Long overnight trains with snacks and bathrooms and all!”

“Of course, we’ll be staying on the premium part, so our travel might be a bit more… luxurious than most”

“Are you planning on investing in these, Mari? Because I wouldn’t mind using my baby for this.”

“It depends. I’d rather not think of business right now, but we’ll see.”

“Oh! Oh! I brough some games so we won’t get bored!”

“Did you bring card games”

“Ah, sorry. Only boardgames. But I got some rubix cubes!”

“I will be entertained”

“I don’t think we’ll have much time to game, dear. We’ll be sleeping”

“Aw, but then we’ll miss the fun of a luxury train! We should have fun!”

“I’ll stay up! Let’s have a pajama party!

“We’ll have to be ready to leave at 8:00 am. I really rather sleep”

(The train leaves at 8 pm and reaches its destination at 8 am. Ah, 12-hour overnight travel home, how I missed you)

“Is that you cat?”

“Kitty”

“Woah. A loaf of bread”

“Can we pet him?”

“Ah, he’s getting ready to sleep, so I’d rather-“

The train is here.

<-PREV START NEXT ->

[biggestsimponhere]

‘Tis the damn season

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

➻ Synopsis: You left your hometown at 18 yet here you stand ten years later in front of the only person you’ve ever loved

➻ Requests are always welcome!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

If i wanted to know who you were hanging with while i was gone i would have asked you

There was once a time when you could have asked Tyler Owen’s anything and you would’ve gotten an answer. But you left. Ten years ago. Something about the small town thing that you couldn’t get over, you felt trapped. Now you lay in your bed, it’s cold out, you’re curled under blankets and watching videos of the so called tornado wrangler on youtube. You smile despite yourself, you had missed him but you had to go.

A girl enters the side of the screen, one you didn’t recognize. Her hair was blonde with dark brown roots, her doe eyes practically sparkling as she looks at tyler. You can’t help the pang of loss that shoots through your chest. You push the feeling down and turn off your phone, shoving it far underneath your pillow. You have no right to be jealous you know that but you miss him and then there’s her, you can’t get the image of her out of your mind as you lay there in the dark. Your eye catches on a shirt hanging off the handle of your closet door.

Tyler’s shirt. You remember the day you got that shirt so vividly. It was cold, despite the heat that usually comes being on the south, arkansas winter had a way of chilling you when you didn’t want it. The two of you were walking home from local diner, it was late and snowing and neither of you had thought to bring a coat. Tyler had shrugged off his flannel and draped it over your shoulders before pulling you closer. The two of you walked to your house practically glued at the hip.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass but i felt it when i passed you, there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

“Y/n?” A voice calls from your left. You had been out shopping, grabbing some last minute things your mom needed to cook, because of course she would send you. Luckily for you it wasn’t tyler’s voice. It was boones. You smile as you turn and greet him. “Does ty know you’re back in town? I mean he must not if he hasn’t already shown up at your door” Boone questions as he stares at you. “He doesn’t know i’m back and you can’t tell him, i’m going to leave as soon as the holidays are over” You say pleadingly. Lily slides into the conversation seemingly having overheard you two.

You glance at lily, “wait, he’s not here right?” you ask slightly panicked. “No he’s not, he sent us out to get things, you know how he is” Lily shrugged. You breathe out a sigh of relief but can’t help the longing that goes through you. “You’re going to have to tell him y/n” Lily says sternly. You know you left things shaky, you also know Tyler never got an explanation. “He doesn’t need me ruining his life,” You shake your head, “He’s got that girl, i saw her on the video” You say quietly. “Who? Kate?” Boone laughs. You find yourself quirking an eyebrow at him because what’s so funny.

“Why are you laughing bo, i’m serious” You say softly, trying to keep your true emotions from slipping through. “If you think tyler’s gotten over you just because you’ve been gone for ten years then you are absolutely ridiculous” He wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs. “What’re you talking about bo, there’s no way he still misses me” You interject breaking through his laughter. “I’ve gotta go, i’ve missed you both… don’t tell ty… please” You say quietly as you hug them. They both give you their reassurance that they won’t tell him but they think you should.

i’m stayin at my parents house, and the road not taken looks real good now

Being back in your high school bedroom is harder than you thought it would be. They didn’t touch anything. The pictures of you and tyler, happy, smiling from ear to ear decorate every corner of your mirror. You stare at them for a minute before pulling one off. It’s always been your favorite one, the two of you had taken it while trying to figure out how to use your polaroid camera when you first got it. It was slightly blurry but the smiles beaming at you through the photo tell you all you need to know. Tyler had taken it, his arms outstretched as he holds the camera away from the two of you, you’re reaching for it in the photo and maybe that’s why it’s tilted like that or maybe it’s because tyler’s hand was shaking so bad from laughing.

You curl back onto your bed, the polaroid clutched in your hand as you bring the covers up under your chin. You’ve never been one for wallowing but there’s something about being back here. Your mother finds you like that hours later. She sits on the bed beside you, softly pulling the polaroid from your hand and setting it on your nightstand. She knows you miss tyler. She also knows why you left in the first place. She tucks the blanket tighter around you and kisses your head softly before heading back out of the room. You don’t wake despite the creaking of the old door as she shuts it.

She heads back downstairs and settles back into the kitchen. After baking for about an hour or two she does what any sane mother would do and she pulls out the phone book. She laughs quietly as she searches for the number and smiles triumphantly once she’s got it. She moves to the phone hanging on the wall. Despite all the gorgeous technological advancements of the twenty first century your mother refuses to give up her landline, claims her grandkids are gonna know how to properly use a phone. “Yes? Tyler? She’s home” Your mom sighs softly into the phone. You may blame her for this but she doesn’t care.

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tired, now i’m missing your smile, hear. me. out.

Tyler’s at your house in the next half an hour. Your mother greets him at the door. She invites him in and lets him know that you’re still asleep. “I guess i just don’t understand why you called” He says as he sits at the table, his chair, it takes him a moment to realize. He’s sitting in the chair he sat in for four years. “She misses you, she won’t say it but she does, she needs you” Your mother says as she joins him at the table. Tyler quirks his head at that, you left, what could you possibly need from him. “I’m sorry ma’am i’m just not really gettin it” He says quietly.

“I thought we’ve moved past you calling me ma’am” She reminds him softly. He nods, looking down. “To answer your question, i think she’s lost it, now i don’t mean her mind ya know, but her love of everything really, i know she left because she felt trapped but she stopped coming home, she stopped writing, somethings going on tyler” She explains as she sips on her coffee. Tyler’s expression shifts from confused to concerned. “What do ya mean?” He asks calmly, hoping not to project how badly he wants to run upstairs and wrap you in his arms. “She hasn’t come out of that room for days, i sent her out yesterday and she came home, dazed, she needs you” Her tone makes something shift in tyler.

“Can i.. can i go up there?” He’s practically bursting with the need to hold you. Your mother nods, a slight smile forming on her lips. He’s up the stairs before she gets the chance to say anything else. The door to your room creaks but you don’t look up, assuming it must be your mother again. “Sweetheart” A voice comes from the door. That’s not your mother. You’d know that voice anywhere. You jolt up in your bed. “Ty?” You question as your eyes adjust to the light pouring in from the hall. He shuts the door behind him, dowsing your bedroom back into darkness. The only light coming from the moon reflecting on the snow outside your window.

But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. ‘Tis the damn season.

Tyler moves closer to your bed, but slowly, sort of like approaching an animal that doesn’t want to be approached. “It’s me darling” He says as he draws closer. He’s reaching over to wipe the tears from your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying. You lean into his touch instinctively. “What’re you doing here ty?” You’re pushing back more tears as he sits beside you. He looks warm. Warmer than the cold bed you’re laying in. “Your ma called me”. You laugh disbelievingly. Of course she did.

“You didn’t have to come ty, i’m fine” You say unconvincingly. “Oh i’m sure you are sweetheart” The pet names he’s lathering you in almost make you forget how long you’ve been gone. “Why don’t we go out, you can come to mine, the team misses you yknow” He says as he pulls you into his side. Every time he touches you it’s delicate like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but you don’t. You never could and you never would. “Really? You want me there?” You push at your nose, trying to get it to stop running. “I always want you around, you know that” He runs his fingers through your hair till you’ve relaxed against him once again.

It always leads to you, in my hometown, sleep in, half the day. Just for, old times sake. I wont ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

It takes little to no convincing from there to get you to join him at his farmhouse. Snow glistens, costing the fields of grass and dirt. You’ve packed a bag, a small one but tyler wanted you around and you’d take what you can get. You don’t know what it is about being around him that makes you want to be yourself but there’s a pleasant safe feeling that fills the air. He pulls into the driveway of his family’s farm house. You smile at the sight of it, it looks just the same as it always has only this time it’s topped with fresh white snow. You smile slightly as you notice the team in the living room through the window.

Tyler helps you out of the truck and grabs your bag before helping you over the ice and inside. “You know where the guest room is” He says as he gestures down the hall. He’s right you do. The only guest room you’ve ever stayed in at his house despite the very many. It’s the one right beside his room. He always told you he wanted you as close as possible if his parents wouldn’t let you sleep in the same room. You smile at the memory as you set your bag down on the bed. You start walking back towards the living room when you heard something “She’s home huh?” You don’t know that voice, but you can only assume it belongs to that doe eyed blonde.

“She is” You can hear the smile in tyler’s response and it makes you feel slightly better about yourself. The group welcomes you back in like you’ve never been gone and you sit beside tyler as some christmas movie plays. Kate, you learned her name, sits across the room at a love chair alone. She’s been staring at you two for the past fifteen minutes and it’s getting a bit harder to ignore. When you stand and head to the kitchen for some water she follows you. You get slightly concerned she’s dating tyler before she explains her reason for following you out here. “I’ve not know him long, but i could tell something was wrong, and in this short period of time that you’ve been here it’s like you’ve ignited something in him” She says as she stares at you

It always leads to you in my hometown. it always leads to you… in my hometown.

Later that night you’re tossing and turning in bed. You can’t stop thinking about when you left, why you left, or if it was even worth it. Three knocks sound on the other side of the wall. You smile despite yourself. You know who it is, it’s tyler. You reach up and knock back twice. The confirmation that you’re still awake. He knocks back four times. An asking. More like a begging. Begging you to join him in his room. You think about it for a minute before you climb out of the guest bed, which is still slightly cold despite you lying in it for an hour. You make your way to tyler’s room and walk towards his bed.

He reaches out for you and pulls you down like no time has passed. You smile at him as he burries his face in your neck. “I’ve missed you” It’s said so softly against your skin that you almost missed it. You run a hand through his hair and he burrows further into you. “I’ve missed you too ty, i’m sorry” You say as you tuck your face into his neck. “don’t have to be sorry, just don’t leave me again” he sounds like a kid but he can’t help it. You nod against his neck. You’re not leaving. Nothing could take you away from this. Not again. You can feel his body relax against yours as you tell him you’re not going anywhere.

There are things the two of you are going to have to work on but for now… here… in his warm bed, cuddled up together nothing else really matters.

[hollenka99]

One thing I really love about Detective Beebo is how the timeloops are, for lack of a better word, dynamic. Nothing stays exactly the same except for the location of the mansion and the 10 characters present on the property.

It means Ángel can only warn Oliver so much. Because sure, don't mess with paintings so Eugene Coli can't stab anyone in the clock room. Maybe don't head for the tower because you could fall despite the railings. Ollie, for the love of god, stop wandering off and giving Coli opportunities to ambush you, just stay close to me where I can protect you instead. Ángel can try to keep his friend safe but there will always be things that have changed.

The main reason for this is of course Coli. By having the antagonist be aware of the loops, even be in control of when a loop ends, it means no two loops will ever be the same. It's like how he takes the keys from the aquarium in Round 2 so it's harder for Oliver to get ahold of them. He is frequently waiting in the shadows. He noticed a handful of people were up on the balcony so he set off the bomb there. Oliver went into the shed when he was presumably nearby so he was able to kill Owen then ambush Oliver, hiding the photobook again.

It reminds me a bit of Edge of the 17th by friight (Spoiler warning since they are kinda unavoidable for what I want to say). In the fic, it is revealed that the antagonist, Dream, remembers the loops too and as such, is working directly against Wilbur's efforts to make the events of the day end with minimal casualties. But of course, with each loop, that's another method of stopping Dream that can't really be used again because Dream knows, he remembers and is able to think of ways to counter Wilbur.

The events within the House of Vera aren't particularly akin to this but the sentiment does stand. Coli knows everyone but Ángel is oblivious to what's going on. He can ambush them with axes or detonate a bomb when a small group is in an opportunistic place. Who cares that one of his targets was outside having a smoke at 8pm? It just means he has to be careful not to permanently kill Ángel but as shown by Oliver's death at the end of Round 3, that's something Coli has to keep in mind for all of them.

Compare this to a static timeloop narrative like In Stars And Time or Groundhog Day where everything is exactly the same every loop, only the protagonist is able to change things. This works well for something like ISAT because it's not actually about beating the King like Siffrin originally believes. It's about how their own insecurities are holding them back and literally making them unable to move on with their life. These types of timeloops also lend themselves to higher loop quantities (I think my Siffrin looped 70-80 times and there are literally articles estimating how many years Phil Connors was stuck in Punxsutawney), as opposed to Detective Beebo where they only loop what, 5-6 times depending on the ending? Which I'd say is typical of the shorter nature of dynamic loops in my opinion.

I would argue Detective Beebo would suffer as a narrative if it had a static timeloop. For one thing, Coli's plan falls apart if he can't remember the previous loops and I doubt he'd ever be satisfied if every time he killed his victims was the first time for him. Even if he was the only one to remember until the end, Ángel being another driving force in the plot would be missing. Just because he fails to save Oliver's (or for that matter anyone else's) life for most of the loops doesn't mean he's not using his consistent memory to help Oliver get closer to the answers. And besides, someone needs to be able to remember or else everyone's just looping endlessly.

Anyway, hell yeah to dynamic timeloops. There should be more of them because they're really fun.

[hrrtshape]

heyy i wanna know which fashion house is favorite of NYC socialites. I’m guessing it could be The Row or Hermès or some brand we don’t even know?

Also if they’re gonna buy an art, like painting which style do they usually go for?

Okay last one, how do they usually see artists from 3rd country? like any type of artist with some talent and potential i guess

OK OK OK ok i'm not naming names and i'm not betraying the sisterhood (or the ndas) but here's what i will say

nobody in the scene has one favourite and if they say they do they're lying or broke or both. it's not about favourites it's about who will courier you a sample at 3am on a tuesday and whose pr girl you went to rehab with and who you sat next to at the ritz for that very cursed pierre cardin retrospective dinner where someone brought ketamine in a flask shaped like the pope

like it's LOGISTICS

it's POLITICS

it's POST-FORDIST SUPPLY CHAIN CRAP WITH A YSL TAG. whatever.

the row is safe. the row is for people who want to look like the concept of money without ever saying money. it's very i take lexapro and do pilates in the same room my mother miscarried in. it's clean girl for tax fraud witches. it's good. everyone wears it. but like. it's not thrilling. it's not camp. it's a palate cleanser between disasters.

hermes is like. soooooooo tricky. there's an age line. if you're under 25 and you own a birkin that wasn't stolen, you're either trafficked or terminally uninteresting. the scarf girls are different. the scarf girls are sick in the head. the scarf girls are plotting coups. you don't mess with the scarf girls. hermes as a house is respected but also no one's going feral over it unless they were breastfed next to a polo field. you know?

people do margiela but it's always like. 2007 margiela they bought from some man in a very cursed brooklyn storage unit who said he used to be close with galliano but it ended weirdly. and there's always this edge of don't ask how i got it just know it's real and honestly. i don't ask. i just compliment and back away slowly.

the real answer you probably won't hear is vintage chanel. there's this NEED to wear stuff that's been through something. bloodstained. stolen. repaired by a woman who used to work for miuccia but now does alterations under a fake name in dumbo. you know how it is

also random obscure italian houses from the 90s that got absorbed into the lvmh blob and then regurgitated through some influencer capsule drop. people pretend to hate balenciaga but still wear the sunglasses. the sunglasses are above politics

and i'm sorry but you WILL see people in cavalli. not ironically. full snakeprint. they're not joking. they're just drunk and hot and have unfinished degrees in byzantine art history. and it WORKS

but also like. it's not just about houses. it's about garments with provenance. like you'll see a girl wearing a slip dress from an anna sui show that only exists on a defunct photobucket and she'll say "oh i found it at a church sale in nice" and you believe her because her nails are chipped in the pattern of the french flag. it's spiritual. it's psychotic. it's extremely real

and then there's the ones who just. rotate between rick owens, celine (old AND new), this one cursed margot tenenbaum-core ukrainian brand i'm not naming, and like… uniqlo men's jumpers in size XL because it's more honest

and they all look like models from a soviet architecture magazine and you can't say shit because they studied under bruno latour or something

i'm saying it's not about the house. it's about the chaos algebra of vibe x context x what ex you're dressing for x how much adderall you've had that week. some weeks it's jil sander. some weeks it's i bought this on ebay from a woman who does taxidermy on the side and once went viral for being mean to a dolphin. it's CULTURE

art is like...... such a loaded category omg it's literally like choosing your trauma avatar with tax implications. like when a girl in the scene says "i'm getting into collecting" she means "i cried in the bathroom of a frieze afterparty and someone from the whitney offered me ket and now i own a sculpture made of expired antibiotics." it's always deeper than it looks.

but style-wise???? HMMM. they all SAY they're into minimalism but you go to their flats and it's literally like francis bacon met a tiktok mood board and started screaming

people love brutalism UNTIL they realise they can't post it with flash.

the truth is nobody wants what's tasteful. they want what makes them feel like the protagonist of a lynchian divorce trial.

text-based work is BIGGGG. girls love a good neon sign that says something vaguely communist or vaguely biblical.... "this is my blood" in courier font hanging over a mid-century coffee table

barbara kruger reprints. hans haacke but only the cursed ones. someone's probably got a lithograph of that "god is dead and we killed him" quote hung over their bed and calls it ironic. it's not. they're deeply proud of it

there's also like. a wave of figurative stuff.... post-y2k abjection meets classical oil technique but make it CAMP

girls are buying paintings of other girls throwing up in balenciaga. brushstrokes like baroque. subject matter like r/trashy

and you KNOW that shit is framed in gold leaf and lit by a repurposed theatre spotlight. we're not subtle here

OH and don't underestimate the hold that collage still has. photomontage girlies rise UP!!!!!!!

anything dada-adjacent.

anything that looks like it was made during an amphetamine spiral in a berlin basement in 1964. things with teeth. things with too much paper texture.

girls LOVE an artwork that looks like it could've been evidence in a cia investigation about thoughtcrime.

if it's sculpture it's either like. posthuman chrome-and-bone nightmare fuel or a little lump of found material that someone's cousin made at an artist's residency in reykjavík. no in-between. you ask what it is and they say "it's a commentary on neoliberal permanence" and then offer you a microdose

you take it. you hallucinate helmut lang

ALSO paintings of girls. always. huge portraits of anonymous girls with dead eyes. they say it's feminist. it probably is. they just want someone to look at them looking at it and go wow. sometimes it's by a real name.

sometimes it's by someone whose entire bio is "b. 1996. lives and works in a warehouse." it sells anyway

nobody buys landscapes unless they're ironic or haunted. abstract expressionism is for dads and trust fund nihilists. cubism is fine but nobody has the furniture for it. and anything blue-chip is hidden in a storage unit in geneva and nobody even knows it exists except for the accountant and the girl who stole it in 2013 and never got caught. slay.

so yeah. style??? more like psy-op. they buy what hurts. they buy what haunts. they buy what makes people ask "is that.............. blood?" and they say "no, it's acrylic mixed with spit." and you nod. and you sip your wine. and you say wow. and you mean it. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so when we say third country artists in my better cr…….we're not talking global south like post-colonial trauma-core……….we're talking second cousins in seoul who got expelled from art uni for plagiarising duchamp but make vr installations in abandoned malls now. or some jakarta girl who paints with lipstick and launched her first show via a burner finsta

we're talking GLOBAL TALENT. no pathos. no pity. just taste

and how are they seen???? THEY'RE WORSHIPPED. they are the NEW FRONTIER. they are the COOL ONES. because they're still HUNGRY. not like new york trust fund scene kids who only paint sad girls on soft canvas and cry if their gallery reschedules a launch party. these artists are on fire. they print manifestos. they own snakes. they quote fanon AND hello kitty

they're real.

the socialites??? they EAT IT UP. they'll fly out for a "pop-up" in sofia just to say they were there first. they want to be SEEN at the emergence. they want to post "just supporting the diaspora 🫶" while sipping mezcal with a woman who once embroidered a whole war onto a trench coat. and then they buy the coat. obviously

but also…......…..they're selective. like you have to be underground in a SPECIFIC way. you can't just be talented

you need edge. you need lore. you need an iconic mugshot or a beef with a biennale judge. and your work has to look GOOD on a white wall. like sorry. i don't make the rules

if it doesn't photograph well in gallery lighting then the money girls won't bite.

but if you do have that vibe. if you've got your little post-situationist zine printed in your home country, if you've got trauma but you don't milk it, if your art comes with footnotes and a vague connection to maoist cinema, and if you can hold court in a post-opening dinner while chain-smoking and quoting zizek sarcastically…....……..YOU WIN. they will LOVE you

they will fight over you like you're the last coherent thread of culture in a declining empire. because you ARE

it's not about class anymore. it's about cachet. you could be from the most middle-of-the-road suburb in wherever and if your art makes a girl from the upper east side cry in a way that feels productive she will fund your next five projects

no poverty required. no sob story. just VISION and VIBE and a strategically mysterious lack of instagram presence. if your feed is 3 blurry images and an ancient linktree from 2017 you're SET. FOR LAIF

they don't care where you're from. they care where you're going. they want to sponsor genius. they want to say "i bought their early work" with the same tone people use to say "i was at woodstock"

they want to be RIGHT. they want to be FIRST. they want to name-drop you at a rooftop dinner where everyone's drunk