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fillinforlater · 10 months

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Eleven to One: Scandalous Shooting

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin

Length: 3140 words

Tags: quickie sex, semi-public sex, might get caught, sex toys, toy use in public, a tiny bit of feet kink/admiration, standing sex, from behind, hard sex, very wet, very close to squirting, very close to losing your career, megalomaniac!you

TW: semi-public sex, I guess lol

Inspiration: the GIF below. Pure sex.

Credt: @sooyadelicacies, my wonderful co-writer in this series. You can find more parts here!

(A/N: After almost three weeks, I'm finally back! Eleven to One is far from being over, view this as sort of an interlude with a big plot point and some nice, good fun with our hot af Ahn Yujin. Enjoy!)

“Excited for my new shoot? Yujin has sent a video.”

"Fuck you dumb bitch, suck it just like that."

Your cock was currently slamming the throat of a gagging Kim Chaewon for what could be between one minute and one hour, anything in between really, but either way, her salvation has just arrived. You pull out of her huffing and puffing mouth and with no further thought wasted on the training session, you prepare to leave.

"What? Where are you going asshole?" Chaewon shouts, baffled, furious, most importantly baffled when you instantly have your hands around her neck and glare down at her, petite and small, kneeling on the floor, one could almost mistake her for a good girl. Chaewon is not yet there though.

"My desire and cock is needed elsewhere. You're not a priority, only a cheap convenience. Yujin is demanding my attention, rather, I demand her body right now."

Chaewon's face further contorts to a scowl, as you expected. There is the spirit to fight, fight back, fight you, fight whoever opposes her. This spirit is slowly but surely bending to your will and the best part about it: Chaewon has no clue.

"I'm better than she is..."

Left to right, you cross her messed up face with your cock and scoff at how pitifully desperate her expression is. A little fingering with Minju, a quick blowjob, a facefuck, and she is already demanding you to stay; over your beloved girlfriend, mind you.

"Don't kid yourself, Chaewon." You get your hand in her hair, comb it then mess it up again. "You are so far behind, it's not even funny to compare yourself to her. Like I said: not a priority.

"Minmin, I need you to tie her up. Chaewon's been bad again."

"Yes Daddy!" Minju says naked before you, she is always in the next room, ready to adhere to your commands with glee and joy, even as she puts ropes around her friends ankles and wrists.

"Oh and Minju,” you add, pants not yet around your waist. “How about you suck me off and I'll blast it all over Chaewon's face before I leave. If you are fast, I’ll allow you to lick it off of her too."

Minju’s eyes brighten and she nods furiously. Soon she’ll nod on your cock.

It always fascinates you how easy it is to get into certain areas as long as you look determined and wear the appropriate attire. You dart into the building where Yujin currently still had her shooting for the 1000th magazine her stunning face will be featured on.

Is this an issue for you? No. Yujin is yours, ready to go the extra mile for you every single day. She accepts your craziest desires, the family of lustful friends around the two of you, hell, she risks her entire hard earned career and reputation for you. No reason to mistrust her or be envious because people get to see her face or shoulder or feet—

Okay, this is where you draw the line. Yujin just looks too good; her curvy, willing body on the drawer, hair done to tempting perfection, gaze full of sex and then she sticks her bare feet out. You have to stop it, though it's already on camera, they can’t have more of that.

Behind a group of staff members you come to a halt. Get on your toes and look over their heads to find Yujin, in talks with the director. You hear whispers about some reshoots, Yujin handles the small, direct criticisms like a professional. Of course your eyes also drop from her face to her hips, then even lower to her feet, which are currently hidden in two ugly slippers.

Blending in with the crowd, you make a mental note to speed up plans for your next merger, which is right around the corner, only some stupid, posh guys in suits hesitating, because they don’t want to lose face to Hyewon’s non-nonsense negotiation tactics. After this final chess move, there is no more sneaking around after that. It's a checkmate for any and every doubt. Nothing can stop your fantasies from coming true.

You wait for Yujin to notice you, but then grow impatient. Tapping on your pants pocket, you push a button and notice from a distance a twitch of pleasure on her face as she quickly scans the room to find you.

Perfect, she still has it on her. Whenever Yujin goes out, she has the option to take a small bullet vibrator from her purse and use it to relieve some stress or make a boring schedule more fun. The vibrator is connected with both your and her phone, so you can always test if she knows that you are nearby—and also have your way with her, of course.

Yujin’s libido is great enough for such a bold move and of course she has found you immediately, but instead of going straight towards you, she continues her duty. After all, the reshoots have to continue.

"This scene right here, on top of the drawer," the director says. Yujin gets into position, and thank God she kicks off the slippers.

You lick your lips a little before turning into a scowl. You push the button again, only this time on a higher setting. If you arrived, you were the top priority, not some wannabe director having his eyes look at the most sex-oozing woman to ever walk on this earth. Watching Yujin squirm, you decide to pull out your phone and make a call. The call.

"Hyewon, plans have changed. I want the merger motion to go forward right now. I'm done waiting."

"Yes, Master!"

You only had to wait as you watched Yujin continue to try and control herself under the power of the toy inside her. As the minutes and poses went on, it became harder for her to withstand the buzzing pleasure, though the constant background noise has everyone except you blissfully unaware of the vibrators presence. You have to admit, waiting is the thing you hate the most in this world, but with Yujin on the edge, in public, right before your eyes, it’s more than bearable.

"Miss Ahn, is everything okay?" the cameraman asks, worried and puzzled by Yujin's expressions and the increasing redness on her cheek.

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm gu-ud. Should I try a different pose?"

"How about you put your legs up on it, like you did earlier?" the director suggests.

When it comes to poses, magazine shoots, and being in front of the camera in general, Yujin is a goddess in every aspect. Cute, thrilling, hot, seductive, cool, she can do it all—and today she decided to give the people what they want.

This tease cannot go unpunished. You continue to let the vibrator do its thing on a low setting to not elicit any unwanted moans and just wet her crotch more and more. It might not be noticeable on the black dress, but she is about to soak it, let her juices run down her legs and pool at her marvelous feet. You are insatiable, not even stopping when she looks at you with begging puppy eyes—

Yujin is at your mercy; only you can get her out of this.

A message from Hyewon lights up your phone. It is done, Master. Well spoken, she must have really pushed those otherwise tenacious executives around hard to get it done this quickly. Smiling, you decide to make your presence known, startling the crew.

"Mr. Director, you should be getting a phone call any moment now, I'm here to supervise the rest of this shoot. You're all doing wonderful, but I want to make sure Yujin's health is prioritized. Could we go for a lunch break now?"

"Sir, who are you—" The shrill ring of his phone interrupts the bewildered director, though his bewilderment only increases with every second the phone call continues. He hastily runs from set to set, gathering staff members, phone still pressed to his cheek.

"What have you done now?" Yujin snarls, her body not on the drawer anymore, unstable next to you. She grabs your suit, but elect to You ignore her and watch the staff flock out, the directors face full with sweat, an apologetic gesture towards you.

"So-sorry, Sir, we of course take the health of the idols very seriously. I didn't know you were managing her."

"It's alright," you say reassuringly, hand in a pocket, and in the thrill of the moment, you push the vibrator to the strongest setting. "Are you~ alright, Miss Ahn?"

Yujin cries out, her shriek startling the director. He tries to react quickly, but you put on your sternest, most serious face, really, the feat of a great actor, though that is par for the course in your business.

"Lets not waste any time. Mr. Director .I'll need everybody off the set. I'd rather not have anyone see Miss Ahn like this. Thanks for your understanding."

"I-I, of course, I'll—"

The director throws his hands in the air. His face is pale, he is unsure where to run, left, right; he needs time to catch himself and find the exit as does everyone else. He closes the door with an apologetic bow and you can hear him shout in panic and frustration.

"How the hell did you do that?" Yujin mumbles, her hands on your side to keep herself upright. Look down to find her legs drenched in her own juices, the dress ruined, her hair in a wild mane.

You lick your lips.

"Oh baby girl, you're mine now. I had Hyewon seal the deal. I bought your company, which means, personally and professionally, every part of you belongs to me."

Yujin's puppy eyes have never been bigger—except for maybe the time you first penetrated her tight pussy—though this time you find it hard to make out any clear thought she might have; is it pure bewilderment at the boldness and timing of your move? Is it anger because you purposefully got her into trouble, took things too far, just because you could? Or is it—

"Now what?" Yujin grits her teeth and looks to the wet floor. "This was too risky! Reporters will ask questions, some are going to spy on you, rumors will spread—they will find it out! You can't hide this forever."

You gently rake your hand through Yujin's raven hair and watch her toes tense up. Her entire body radiates tension, stress, like she can see everything crumble. The future looks bleak, nothing but darkness. The ‘young you’ can relate strongly, the bottom is usually dark—but as long as you fight, you'll reach the light. Even in the poorest of areas, someone is able to reach for the stars and create a better place for himself, his family.

A better place, even better than what you believed was already perfect.

"Trust me, Yujin," you coo to her and gently pull her hair back to look down at that concerned face of a beautiful goddess. "This is going to lead to moments greater than you could've ever dreamed of."

She looks at you with a swirl of conflicted emotions, but you don't let her dwell on it for too long as you move in to kiss her, prodding your tongue into her mouth too. You subtly position your left hand's fingers near her wet snatch.

"We don't have—"

"—a lot of time," the two of you whisper simultaneously. It's teamwork, alright, how she finishes your sentence with her needy voice, how you hike up her dress while she fiddles with your zipper, how you both find a bit of cover in the far corner of the room. If someone were to come in, you'd at least not be seen, but by the way Yujin squirms when you pull at the cord of the oval vibrator, her voice will make the situation blatantly obvious, even for a blind person.

"You need to stay quiet," you growl in Yujin's neck while you still try to get the plug out of her tight cunt. "This is some serious business, don't disappoint me. Do it like you did last year, on the red carpet.

"Why the fuck—"

The vibrator is still stuck inside her, the walls of Yujin's pussy clamp around it, not ready to let go of the pleasure the constant vibration brings. If it wasn't for your arm around her waist, Yujin would've dropped to the floor already. She is unable to resist it, it's deep inside her, it's snuck and comfortable.

A conflict for you, for her: Can you really let her cum just like this again? It would not be the great, immediate release for your cock you were looking for, but the humiliation, Yujin's embarrassment would make you ascend to a new level of all-powerfulness. It's the same for her, just the other way around. It seems that she has made up her mind before you though:

"Daddy please, you-you need to leave… let me finish the shoot and—"

But you keep kissing her neck.

"Baby girl," you growl. "Either you cum on my cock after I pound your tight little pussy or I turn that toy in you on maximum for the rest of the day. You'll squirt like a fucking fountain, make a mess and then what? What will the headlines say then?"

"Daddy, please! At home… I'll do whatever you want, just not here."

"You know it already don't you, baby girl? I'm your salvation—my cock is your salvation—with it inside your walls, it will keep your cum from spilling out and save you from becoming breaking news."

This much convincing, with Yujin convulsing, is really confusing, but in the end, she is unable to conceal her desire for you to plug her. Her neediness is an issue and your neediness is the solution.

There is no need or time for a blowjob, you are ready to enter right away, so you grab as much of the black dress as you can and pull it up. Yujin's help would be appreciated, but the horny thing can barely stand on her own, both her hands on your back to find security.

"You're the prettiest when you are this needy, baby girl," you tell her as her large, watery eyes are unable to look anywhere but you. A couple of tears spill over, then down her cheeks when she finally presses out the vibrator from her pussy. "Get your leg up here, on this couch."

The angle is perfect, your throbbing cock aligned—you still need to dive in her delicious full lips with that strawberry flavor to deafen her moans. The dive was almost too late, the draw of her cunt is too strong for your manhood to resist, and of course you fill her fully.

"God, you're so tight, you're always tighter when you're so needy.” Your words come pouring out when you disconnect your lips from hers; it’s like disconnecting from the world and ascending to a place of unknown, unbound, unending power. “I get it now. These shoots, these long and stressful hours. You're so hard working baby girl, but now we can fuck anytime. Isn't that a good thing?"

You thrust harshly and stroke Yujin’s pretty hair. Anytime, anywhere, it all doesn’t matter anymore. What it matters is you in her, above her, all over her. This is what your love is "Tell Daddy how it feels."

"Y-you're so greedy," Yujin huffs out, even after years of almost daily pussy pounding she is unable to control her breathing during sex. "Where, fuck, where will this end?"

"Answer my question, baby. And keep your moans down. I might make you cum, erupt like a pent up volcano. I can already feel the tsunami building up. Admit that you want me this greedy, because nothing can satisfy—"

"Fuck, okay, okay." Yujin grabs the sleeve of your suit with one hand and your nape with the other. "Daddy, own me. My entire life, my career, my social circle—take it." Her eyes are daggers, then a concoction of bliss, devotion and insurmountable expectations. "Take re-responsibility, and I'll be the best baby girl ever."

"You'll be that either way."

Slam her against one of these many thin, unstable decorative background walls, watch it sway dangerously backwards, but fuck her with the same recklessness as before. Yujin's teeth dig into her lower lip, her body losing all it's grip, except for the grip of her cunt, which you have fucked from every angle, sure, but standing has her the tightest. At least, you believe it right now—maybe it's the setting, the chance to get caught, the career ending thrill.

"I'm your good girl, good girl, Daddy, I—"

"Go on and cum. My cock will save you."

A fleeting moment, a moment of silence, no movement, as if time itself freezes. A moment where Yujin truly is powerless, where she can't just walk out and break up with you or throw everything away and live a different life. She is about to scream her orgasm out, and with her arms uselessly hanging on the sides of her convulsing, climaxing, prime body, nothing but you can stop her from getting caught.

And she submits herself to it, the scream never making it to anyone as you silence her with a strong palm on her luscious lips. Yujin shakes and shakes, only hints of juices making their way past your shaft, your base. She is plugged and both her legs and dress are saved—at least from being ruined entirely.

The orgasm continues in waves. Yujin's eyes water, her moans echo back, her knees melt like ice cream in the summer—she has to admit, she is waiting for your cream inside her, though it never comes.

"Good girl," you coo to her and start fixing her hair while still balls deep in her cunt. "I have some spare panties for you. Don't worry, I soaked them in some perfume, they won't smell anything. Remember, Daddy is right here. Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes." Out of breath is an understatement. You suffocated the poor girl to the point of exhaustion. Maybe that is the point, to make her look exhausted, weak, hell, she can barely walk. You support her, watch her put on the panties, swipe away some messed up makeup that would look too wild, too suspicious.

"Hook your arm underneath mine," you tell her. "I'll tell them your ankle is hurt, that we'll go to a doctor, something like that."

"Daddy, why do you go through such lengths for, for this?"

You grin and look down at your girlfriend, mere moments before the photography director comes rushing back onto the set.

"Why are you so tight whenever we might get caught doing this?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #ive smut #male reader smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin smut

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

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So I few days ago I saw this post with the still where Sevika growls at Jinx looking like she is 3 times bigger than her, and I remembered that I'm like, 4cm (1-2 inches?) taller than Jinx and Sevika would look exactly as big if I was there instead of Jinx. Which at first made me think that I'd give Sevika a piece of my mind if she screamed at me like this, but on the second thought...well, I had to be a woman enough and idmit that Sevika'd make me fucking cry.

Which leads me to: Sevika screaming at reader - mb reader is Silco's goon or smtg (preferably with the height dif to make it scarier) and R is on a verge of tears. Sevika is like, "what the fuck..." She doesn't feel bad in the moment, just shocked and lost (you're criminals, who tf would cry) R comes home and gets angry at Sev for treating her like this and gives Sev reality check the next day, which leads to Sev apologising and then being all like "did I just fucking apologise to her what the FUCK I'm the fucking second in command" but she gets so impressed she asks R out after this.

Thank you for your writings, they're genuinely my morning paper (you post when it's nighttime for me and I read your stories in the mornings). Also you honestly impacted my writing - recently I'd write a line, look at it and think, oh, this is Angel's, she'd write something like this, and it so heart-warming to me. 💕

oh my god that is so heartwarming to ME i'm CRYING!!!!! i love this idea, lets do it!!!

men and minors dni

at first, you're just a blip on her radar. a new hire of silco's, just another set of arms to help lug and count and wield vairous weapons.

you catch her eye a few times in your first weeks working for silco. you're always cracking jokes, making other goons chuckle. you make her chuckle a few times, too. she calls you out during a briefing one evening, complimenting you on your hustle at the drop earlier that day. but besides that you're nothing to her.

and then you fuck up.

it's not your fault, not really. it's jinx's. she's got an intense fondness for fire, and you'd forgotten about that fact. so when the thirteen year old asked you for a lighter, you'd shrugged and tossed her one, thinking she was gonna light some firecrackers or experiment with smoking-- normal thirteen year old things. you never thought she'd set the warehouse you're all standing in on fire.

everyone makes it out unscathed, thank god. jinx runs away with a squeak when sevika comes stumbling out of the building, covered in soot and scowling. "jinx, you fuck!" she cries. "who the fuck gave her fire?!"

you meekly hold your hand up, still coughing up the lungfuls of smoke you'd inhaled. sevika growls, then shoves your shoulder, hard. she towers over you, glaring down at you as she seethes.

"you stupid shit-- what the fuck were you thinking? i'd bet nothing at all, since you clearly don't have any fucking brains in your skull--"

sevika cuts herself off, baffled. she coulda sworn she just saw a tear fall down your cheek.

you sniffle, wiping your face quickly. sevika almost laughs. you're... crying? what the fuck?

who the hell does that? you're a goon for fucks sake-- your job description might as well be: fuck up jobs and get yelled at. and now you're crying?

sevika just stares at you, bewildered, then she scoffs, turns around, and walks away.

you think that's the end of it.

for sevika it's only the beginning.

you didn't plan on confronting her, initially. but sevika was so shocked and put-off by your reaction to her yelling, that she's been yelling more and more at you just to see if you'd react the same way.

it's been two days now, and no matter what you seem to do, sevika's two steps behind you, growling and ready to demean you.

you lose your temper when she criticizes the way you're sharpening your knives.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you growl, suddenly, interrupting her mid-rant. "you make me cry and then decide, what, that you've just gotta see it again?!" you ask. she blinks, even more shocked than she was when you burst into tears. "not all of us are tough as fuckin' nails sevika! but if you think crying is crazy, you should see what i'll do to you if you keep fuckin' with me!" you shout.

sevika's never been this shocked, intimidated, and turned on all at once in her life.

she clears her throat, gulps, then speaks. "i... i'm sorry." she says.

you sigh, then nod. "it's fine." you cut her off, before swiftly walking away. she watches you go, more confused than she's ever been in her life.

did she just... fucking apologize to you? her? second in command to silco? apologizing to you? rookie goon who'd only been hired to dig graves and clean blood stains?

and why couldn't she stop thinking about you? why was she suddenly so drawn to you, muffling her laugh at every one of your jokes she overhears, her eyes drawn to you every time you're in the same room?

sevika almost throws up when she realizes she's crushing on you.

she tries to ignore it. but now that she's aware of her attraction to you, it's all she can focus on.

she goes to work, she's thinking about you.

you're in the room, she's trying to subtly get close enough to sniff your shampoo.

she's at home, she's sleeping off a hangover and having wet dreams about you.

she lasts a week before you confront her again.

"are you plotting on killing me?" you ask one evening while you and sevika lug crates of shimmer off an airship. she trips over her own feet, then looks over at you like you're crazy. you just raise an eyebrow at her.

"what makes you thi--"

"i cursed you out and ever since you've been... watching me." you say. sevika cringes. "ran's worried for me. they say it's like 'watching a predator stalk its prey.' i figured if you were gonna kill me you'd've already killed me, but. i thought i'd ask, just in case." you say. sevika chuckles, unable to help herself. you're funny.

"i'm not plotting to kill you."

"then why--"

"i wanna ask you out." she mumbles. it's your turn to trip over your feet.

"what!?" you squawk. sevika huffs.

"i dunno. i don't get it either. but you cried in fronta me-- i don't remember the last time someone i wasn't killing cried in fronta me. i couldn't stop thinkin' about you. and then you yelled at me-- nobody yells at me. not even silco. and i apologized. i think-- fuck... i think you got me hooked." she groans. you're equally shocked, pleased and amused, smiling in shock and awe at sevika's revelation.

"...so?" you ask. sevika scoffs.

"whaddya mean 'so'!?"

"so... whaddya gonna do about it?" you ask, tilting your head to the side. sevika blinks at you, then smirks.

"can i take you to dinner?"

"actual food or just liquor and smokes?"

sevika giggles-- nobody makes fun of her. but you are. and... she likes it?

"actual food. whatever you want, i'm buying." she says. you smile.

"after work tonight?"

"yes." she nods, grinning. you shrug, pretend to consider her offer, then nod.

"alright." you say.

sevika bites her lip to keep in her girlish giggle. but then you dart forward and press a peck to her cheek-- and she can't help but let it out anyways.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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sidsinning · 1 year

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UNNECESSARY AND UNHINGED RANT ABOUT CINDERELLA'S CHARACTER FROM CINDERELLA (2015) INCOMING

Lemme talk about Cinderella from Cinderella (2015) for a bit actually yeah because these changes to my girl completely baffle me

She has friends now

Goes outside on her own

Says the only reason why she's staying is because it's her parent's house- bruh.

All of this takes away (+ more reasons down the cut) from the true cruelty of OG!Cinderella's backstory and how it all connects so well to inform you of her character and the actions she takes

OG!Cinderella has been indoctrinated into accepting her life as a maid to her step family since she was a small child. She is never seen going outside of the house besides the night at the ball. The only friends she had were random animals around her she couldn't even fully converse with. She had no other human perspective on her situation or how to get out of it. It makes sense why she's just taking her stepmother's tyranny while holding everything in because this isolation and neglect is all she knows. This is the entire limited scope of her world. A sad reality to many cases of abuse in real life.

And they just. Erased all of this for some. Reason???

The night at the ball was a big deal because she literally NEVER gets to go out. This is the only time she interacts with the outside world aside from the ending. The impact of that was HUGE in the original movie. The new one just cheapened that imo by implying she goes out in town and talks to others regularly. This event was an impossible, fantastical dream come true to someone who is never treated as anything but a servant to everyone she knows.

Basically OG!Cinderella has it way worse which is what makes the ball such a huge deal in the first place.

Third point I don't think I need to explain how Cinderella staying in her abusive home bc the house is "hers to love now that her parents are dead" is not a good character change and doesn't make sense. I would understand if her dad was alive and insisting on staying, but he is GONE. It is a building you grew up in sure, but that's all it is. Not something you sacrifice your wellbeing for. So that's a shit reason they didn't need to make up to say why this character is stuck in her abusive household. The isolation and years of gaslighting were enough. (Also showing how much of a frightening presence and manipulative villain Lady Tremaine is.)

And she sure left it quick after getting hitched lol

The Fairy Godmother having the audacity to test Cinderella with that "oh I'm a poor old woman and I want some milk please" nonsense

Not very godmotherly of her in this version. 🥴 The Fairy Godmother appeared in the original to offer pure comfort to Cinderella in a time of desperate need, when this resilient and kind spirit finally reached her breaking point. The dress, slippers, pumpkin carriage, and magic were all given freely as a present to make her feel better at least for one night.

Meanwhile this goofy ass Godmother has the audacity to be like "hey is she gonna be nice or not even though she's crying in tattered, recently destroyed clothing- I need to see that or else she doesn't get the magic juice". Like why did this become a way to test her morality all of a sudden? Why did you need something from her to give up the magic goods?? It's not even a good test she just walked a couple steps and poured some milk in a bowl,,,

Idk man they made their relationship transactional for no reason which taints the original purpose of this scene imo. The original Fairy Godmother already KNEW Cinderella was kind without having to make sure by disguising herself as a rancid old lady. 😭 Weird and unnecessary addition.

Kinda nitpicky here but this film did not at all match the terror of the torn dress scene which really shows you how horrifying and humiliating it was to Cinderella

Comparison

AND THE BIGGEST OFFENDER: THE WAY SHE "ESCAPED".

I NEED TO TAKE A BREATH

BECAUSE LIKE. WHAT WAS THAT.

Original Cinderella, seeing a real chance of escape from her abuse, uses everything in her possession to do so. She's yelling for the mice to get the key, to get Bruno to chase away the cat, running down to meet the prince's attendants to make sure they get the proof of her identity from her- and that moment she oh-so-casually pulled out the second slipper??? SEEING HER STEPMOTHER'S SLACKED JAW??? GAGGED US ALL.

ICONIC

But 2015. Bitch. What is going on. She gets locked up and easily accepts her doom. She just twirls and sings in her prison like a dunce because cINDerELLa wAs aLReADy cONTenT wIth her sMaLL mOMEnts oF hAPPIneSs anD dREamS wItH thE pRinCE.

Just. Gives up.

Not the mice begging her to get up and save herself come on now

The mice have to do their best on their own to push open her window so the prince and his crew hear her on time.

And yeah, all she had to do was open a window.

WHAT. WHY. HOW. WAS THIS??? MORE EMPOWERING???

1950: use your brain to fight to the very end

2015: quit while you're still ahead, or don't try you just gotta dance and sing all pretty then someone will come along and save you

I'm sorry, but for a production that was so critical of the notion of "Cinderella just waited around for a prince to save her"...is that not literally what they changed the ending to?

You wanna talk about lack of agency in princess stories well here you go 😭

You know what's sad about all this in the end is this is still the best recent live action Disney remake imo LOL

Anyways hello if you've made it all the way down here I rest my case

#disney #cinderella #cinderella 2015 #sidrabbles #rant #i like 1950s lady tremain more but i dont dislike this more sympathetic and character driven take on her either #feels different but not bad #prince is 10000x better no complaints from me #but the bar wasn't that high in the first place so congrats i guess??? LOL RLLY THO THE ACTOR KILLED IT ROB STARK YOU GO GIRL

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superblysubpar · 1 year

Text

masterlist | the music

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for the movie franchise Star Wars | mentions of the holiday Halloween being celebrated by others and reader enjoying it | Leigh is not my character creation, a shared character who @sweetsweetjellybean originally created & I put a little twist on for this story with her permission.

Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

9.4k words | A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude for those who've read this story & those that helped me get through writing it, especially my beta extraordinaire @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz for helping me break that pesky wall of self doubt and writer's block always. I have a big long A/N on the epilogue that's posting right after these two chapters with more sap. Thanks for being here, I love you immensely if you've made it this far from the beginning or you're just arriving 💛

In the movies, they like to make those big plot twists drag out for the protagonist to let it really sink in. Or maybe it's more for the viewers. Special effects, camera angles, flashbacks, and poignant music playing - all to make seconds feel much longer than they are.

In your experience, these plot twists are usually predictable. Of course that guy’s the villain, it was the best friend all along, he’s Luke’s father, et cetera, et cetera. You’re utterly baffled every time by a character’s lack of intuition to see it coming. You’ve booed at writing and acting and told yourself that in real life, it’s so different.

Sure, surprises happen. Reality does not care about predictability, the fragile state of the human heart, or what’s fair. You get that. People cheat, they make mistakes, they die, they lose - and there isn’t some fade-to-black-happy-ending guarantee when they do. There isn’t a countdown on the bottom of a screen letting you know there’s still time left to make it all back from whatever happened, no assurance that it’ll all work out.

To call something real - something happening directly to you - a plot twist, seems horribly wrong though. Is there another word for it? Those moments that manage to catch you off guard, that come without warning or a build up. Moments that hit you repeatedly like a knife to a chest in a slasher flick. Or feel like the instant demise of oxygen leaving your lungs as a door opens to space. That sucker-punch from a red glove to the jaw when you think you’ve just won the big fight.

What do you call that shit?

Robin’s voice is an echo, muffled and distorted as if you’re deep underwater. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, you are so much prettier than Steve mentioned.”

Who is with Steve?

Robin keeps going, putting her entire foot in her mouth, oblivious to the way Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. You only stop staring yourself, after what feels like hours, to finally take in their intertwined hands as Robin babbles. “Wait, I mean…no, see…alright, he told us you were pretty is what I’m trying to say, but like you’re even prettier…”

Who the hell is with Steve?

Her laugh cuts through the fog and your eyes finally focus on the woman attached to the sound.

She’s pretty, just like Robin keeps saying over and over again.

Dark, shiny hair, piercing eyes that you can see - even from this distance - are a hazel to almost match his. A hypnotizing smile, curves and a confidence radiating off of her… everything you wish you were but aren’t.

She laughs again, assuring Robin she gets it (in an infuriatingly humble way), introducing herself as Leigh Kensington.

Nancy perks up at the name when Robin gasps and shouts, “Oh my god! Nance!” Robin looks back, waving her over, “Just like Legally Blonde!” Her voice attempts to lower as she sighs to Leigh, “She loves Reese Witherspoon. It is Vivian Kensington right?” The question louder and directed at Nancy again. Robin doesn’t even take a breath to let her answer though, “Which is hilarious because Steve’s mom’s name is Vivian and you’re dating Steve and you work in legal, right? And-“

Emerald glass shatters around your feet as the bottle of beer falls from your hand, the sharp shards scatter quickly, too broken to ever be put back together. Your legs turn to lead and muscles are no longer in communication with your brain as it finally makes the connection to what you’re seeing and hearing and what that means for you.

“Shit! Jesus, woman-“ Eddie jumps back from you as the glass skirts across the pavement further.

Robin finally turns in your direction at the commotion, her brows knit together in worry. Face progressively getting more concerned as it tightens. Her hand lets a bean bag fall to the board with an echoing thump. “Hey, you look-“

Not waiting to hear the end of her sentence, you will your legs to work and spin, taking off in search of literally any place that isn’t there. Your feet pound against the pavement, thuds that vibrate through the rubber of your soles all the way up to your eardrums.

It’s seconds, less than a minute, and it’s as if the entire stadium - hell, your entire world - has spun upside down. Roars to your left, the rumbling of fan’s excitement from the nosebleeds down to the field mingle and harmonize with the rapid beating in your chest. As you keep running with no real destination other than away, your shoulders bump stranger’s, meeting their frowns and scoffs with whispered and rushed apologies. The familiar sting behind your eyes forms, eyelashes growing damp as you suck in a sharp breath. No more running, you need somewhere to hide.

You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not. How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?

The familiar long line all women are accustomed to grabs your attention and you’re off again. Disgruntled and shouted annoyance from everyone in line echoes across the dull gray tile as you rush past them, yelling something about an emergency. You slam a turquoise door, sliding the silver latch with shaking fingers as your forehead rests on the cold material of the stall. You focus on breathing through your nose and out your mouth, this is fine. You’re fine.

A buzz in your pocket once, twice, and then a third time, and you don’t have to pull your phone out to know they’re texts from him. Despite your better judgment, you look:

It buzzes a fourth time and you lock the phone, debating just chucking it into the toilet.

The sleeve of your sweatshirt presses to your mouth as you clear your throat. No tears are falling for him, not today, not ever.

You hate Steve Harrington.

This was always the plan.

You hate Steve Harrington.

It’s not like you were in love with the guy.

Even as you think it, the panic turns to defense inside of yourself - scrounging around for rocks and bricks, reinforcing the wall around your heart you had started to let crumble for a boy you thought was worth it.

“Girl, what the hell?”

A familiar pair of red converse with writing and doodles covering any space they can, mirror your feet at the base of the stall. You step back, fingers hovering over the latch, ready to tell her it’s fine. Robin isn’t an idiot though, and you’re certain that despite your denial, she’ll take one look at you and make you spill your guts.

Her feet move closer, the familiar clink of rings meeting metal hits your ears, letting you know she’s pressing her palms to the door. Robin’s voice is softer and for one brief, horrible moment, you think she knows. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The guilt that’s hovered over you for months like a storm cloud, releases, engulfing you completely, the promise of sunlight no longer on the horizon. Funny how just hours ago, you were thinking about Robin finally knowing, about how she couldn’t be mad, not when you were both so happy. Your gut twists. You’ve lied to your friend for so long, and for what?

“Just, um, cramps.” The lies keep on building, pushing at the dam you’ve created to keep it all from her. You’re just buying time now, the pressure is going to reach its breaking point soon and you’re worried your friendship with Robin will be washed away when it does.

At the mention of cramps, the disgruntled voices of those in line turn to understanding - muted solidarity in the form of tampon and painkiller offerings.

“Robin, why don’t you grab her some food or something? Maybe a ginger ale? I’ve got stuff in my bag and we’ll meet you all out there,” another familiar voice suggests.

“But I can-“

“That would be really great, Robs,” you interrupt her protest, pushing out the words to sound as eager as you can.

A pair of white tennis shoes sneak between Robin’s and the stall door - like Nancy is trying to put space between the two of you, shielding her girlfriend from any more of your lies.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Robin starts hesitantly, “I saw this gourmet grilled cheese stand thing and-“

“No!” Fingers curling over your mouth at the severity of your interruption, you take a beat before quietly continuing, “Uh, um, actually, just some chips please?”

Your eyes close, willing the memory of your last grilled cheese away. Now is not the time to remember the man you shared it with.

How he looked at you.

How he asked you to open up, how it made you feel when he said he knew you.

How he kissed you.

You hate Steve Harrington.

The initial shock has stopped sizzling and is now a full burn, anger releasing over your frazzled nerves. What else has Steve claimed, what other things could be ruined when all you can do is relate them to him? But as quickly as the anger for him forms, you have to glance down and realize there are three fingers pointing back at yourself.

Why did you give him the opening?

“Roger that, kitten!”

You’re sure she gives a salute to your closed stall door, the red sneakers turning on their heels, her footsteps fading away. The pristine white of Nancy’s twist slightly towards the door. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Can I come in there?”

Clearing your throat once more, you try to brush her off, “Nancy, really, I’m fi-“

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it’s the way she says the word - that a girl you don’t know all that well can see through your lies, be so sure you’re not fine. Maybe it’s because you desperately wish that you could have opened the door for Robin, to leave the football game and go drown in margaritas and dissect every little thing that led to this moment and let her tell you it was all going to be okay and boys are stupid. Or maybe, it’s the fact that you’ll never get to do that, never allowed to tell Robin, that makes you slide the latch unlocked for Nancy Wheeler.

She slips in quickly, her brown curls that are clipped in a half up-do bounce as she tilts her head quizzically at you. Her arms cross over the embroidered team logo on her sweatshirt, her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She’s got this way about looking at you that, without saying anything, makes you want to tell her everything. An energy radiates off of Nancy, a quiet curiosity bubbling under the surface - or perhaps it’s frustration. You’re being studied, a puzzle she can’t crack.

Her lips twist as she clearly debates her words before she finally settles on a simple, “You didn’t know?”

Nancy’s question makes your stomach drop, solidifying that she not only knows about you and Steve, but that Leigh is not a new or unknown development. Your mind swirls to their argument on the beach, Nancy finding you in the bathroom - how long has Steve been seeing Leigh?

“No,” your response comes out in a half laugh, trying to cover up any feelings that attempt to sneak out and reveal too much. The toe of your sneaker scuffs at a knick in the tile as you avoid her eyes.

She tucks a curl behind her ear and sighs. Her face pinches into that quizzical look again, huffing, “He’s an idiot.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. You don’t want to dwell on how she connected the dots about you and Steve or how you’ve all been lying to Robin, and you especially don’t want her pity. “Nancy, I really don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine. Can we just go?”

At the clamp of Nancy’s mouth shutting and the purse of her lips, you regret the icy tone almost immediately. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try again. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” trailing off because where do you even start? You’re mad, hurt, confused, blind-sided, the list could go on and on and you don’t care to reach the end at this moment. You force a smile, changing the subject all together, “Don’t you want to get out there and hear how incredibly little Robin truly knows about sports?”

Nancy’s lips twitch and her arms drop to her sides with a sigh. “Right, well, if you change your mind, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Sometimes, people say things to say things - like they feel as if they’re supposed to say a certain thing when a certain situation calls for it. One look at the kindness in Nancy’s eyes, the small smile on her lips, and you know that is not the case right now. She genuinely, truly means she’s there to listen if you need it. Despite lying to all of them, despite barely knowing her, and the realization has tears forming behind your eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier.

“Thanks,” the word leaves you quietly. It feels small and inconsequential in return for a gesture you’re not even sure Nancy realizes the weight of.

That is, until she turns from the door, her hand hovering over the latch as she faces you again. “I should mention though, that one of you is going to have to tell Robin. Sooner rather than later. And I make no promises it won’t be me, but she should hear it from one of you.” Her tone is adamant with absolutely no room for arguing.

Your guilt tugs you down harder now, only able to nod in response.

Nancy’s head bobs once in return, silently agreeing to drop the subject unless you bring it up again, and she leads the way out of the bathroom.

You hear Robin before you see them. She’s passionately arguing her case about a new musical group that Eddie is scoffing at. Leigh holds her hand up at Eddie’s argument and begins agreeing with Robin, who beams before sticking her tongue out at him.

“Hey.”

The word freezes you and Nancy clears her throat as she makes her way towards the others. Steve pushes off from the brick wall as you turn to face him.

You’ve seen many looks in his eyes before now. When they glint with mischief and charm as he flirts, how they soften as you tell a story. When they’ve turned darker as clothes are shed and they get to roam freely over your body, taking you in like an artwork. How they seem to melt like honey all over you when you’ve found them staring and they don’t care to appear ashamed he’s been caught.

Now, they’re looking at you with far too much pain behind them that doesn’t seem fair. He shouldn’t get to look at you like that, he shouldn’t get to look sad.

Steve extends his hand, a green can with beads of condensation running down the sides of it in his palm. You ignore how your fingers touch and they way his try to linger as you take the soda from him.

When you don’t say anything, he pulls the sleeves of his maroon sweater over his fingers, the toe of his boot scuffing the pavement as his brows meet in the middle. Several pieces of hair fall over his forehead that’s wrinkled with concern, letting you know he’s run his hands through it too many times to have already broken whatever products he’s put in it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk for a sec?”

A sec.

A quick conversation, one he just wants to get over with. To tell you what? Things you’ve already concluded from his surprise today? That he’s with someone. He wants to stay friends. He never felt the way you were starting to feel for him. This was always the plan.

You’re not interested in anything Steve has to say any more.

“Game’s about to start, Harrington, maybe later.” Your tone is clipped and short, smile forced.

His brows pinch closer together as he tilts his head, the harsh line of his jaw flexing. “Really? Cause the way you ran off and that tone could have fooled me.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know exactly what you’re hearing, but if you have something you’d like to say, by all means Steve, let’s hear it.”

Steve closes his eyes and a long breath leaves his nose, “Please-“ his plea is cut off by her.

“Hi, I’m Leigh. It’s so nice to meet you, Steven’s told me so much about you! I hope everything is okay? Everyone was so worried…”

She reaches forward, arms wrapping around you and your stiffening body.

She’s fucking hugging you.

“Uh, yeah, you…too. And yes, thanks, I’m fine. This will help.” Untangling yourself from her, you hold up the can and force another smile. “Thanks Steven.”

Leigh beams at him, grabbing his hand and you just can’t help yourself, turning to him again. “Actually, Steven was just letting me know he had something to tell me, what was so important, buddy?”

Eddie coughs as Steve narrows his eyes. Nancy claps her hands, interrupting the tension filled moment, “Alright, ready guys?”

Robin points towards the bleachers. “I’m ready for tip off! To our seats!”

Nancy gives you a look, some sort of attempt at bringing light to the moment in front of her, before she wraps her hand around Robin’s arm and starts to walk away. “It’s kick off, hun.”

Leigh laughs as Robin lets out a long ‘Oh’, Steve and her following. When Steve glances back over his shoulder at you, the full can of soda meets the trash as you turn towards Eddie. Stealing the fresh beer from his hands, the plastic cup tips to your lips, foam slowing you down as you chug.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy killer.” Eddie tugs on the cup, pulling it from your mouth. “From my understanding, football games are long and we need to pace ourselves. Stevie is not worth a two in the afternoon black out.”

Your mouth opens to protest and he waves his hand in front of your face, “Ah, ah, ah, you can squeeze my fingers or something whenever you feel like punching him instead.”

“Ed-“ you begin, adamant you need another drink (or twenty) to deal with the day you’re about to have.

He begins to walk away, waving his hand dismissively, “No really, I’m a secret masochist, I’ll love it.”

Your eyes narrow, hating the way your lips fight a smile that wants to meet his mood. Despite everything, you’re grateful for him and Nancy. Unsure of how to even attempt to show them how much you appreciate them. Especially after Nancy’s reminder that someone was going to have to tell Robin eventually, and these two had been lying for the both of you, keeping your secret when they didn’t need to.

Up ahead, you hear Leigh laugh, catching her head thrown back and his smile, the squeeze of her fingers on his bicep and you gulp. Your feet plant to the ground harder and you tug on Eddie’s wrist. As the group rounds the corner, heading to their seats, he turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

Eddie must see something in your expression because he mumbles, “Such a fucking idiot,” before he turns to the nearest vendor. “Yeah, hi, I need four very large beers. And I’m talking take your idea of large and triple it.”

This time the smile wins just a little. It’s quick to fall though, when Eddie taps his cup to one he hands you and proclaims, “If you can’t date ‘em, drink about ‘em. To the losers who break our hearts.”

“I-“ ready to tell him that’s not it at all, but his look makes your mouth close.

You don’t say it out loud, you don’t dare to speak it into existence - Eddie is wrong. You’re not broken hearted, you’re just mad Steve didn’t tell you. You’re mad that clearly they all knew, so why not you? That’s all.

Your cup taps Eddie’s again and you let the beer wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Screw Steve Harrington.

As the third cup of cheap beer hits your lips, you risk a glance down the line of your row again. Immediately regretting it like you have every other time. Leigh pushes the loose strand of hair on his forehead back and your eyes return to the field quickly. You’re sure your skin is turning just as green as the artificial turf, the beer making it a little easier to admit to yourself that you are jealous of the intimate moment. Your gut twinges slightly at the remembrance of only a few short weeks ago when you purposely tried to make him feel what you are now. You have no right to be mad at him.

The players blur as they move in an intricate dance only they know before anyone else. You’ve always liked sports, but today has been a good reminder as to why. Players and teams practice and memorize skills and plays that work - but there’s no guarantees. They need intuition to know when to use certain moves, to have a good defense and follow their gut and deviate from the plan when they think the other team is pulling a new play.

It’s all predictable, but not at the same time. Risks and playing with the odds, yet revolving around something incredibly low stakes like a ball in a net or getting past a painted line on fake grass. It’s also realistic. Sure, there are once in a lifetime passes like the Minnesota Miracle or a ball sinking into the net from a distance unfathomable as the final buzzer sounds - but most of the time, it’s just about who’s the best that day. Who ran faster, who slipped through someone else’s mistake. You like that the players can pour themselves into it and it’s still not going to be a win every time, because it’s just not sometimes, and that’s okay. They lose and they get up and they do it all over again. They also know that if they win, it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing so without hard work and dedication.

Poetic to your circumstances, really. Steve was just better at the game, and you knew the eventual outcome of your deal with each other. So really, is there anyone to be mad at here other than yourself?

Steve’s laugh echoes down the line and your jaw clenches, because maybe Steve was better at the game, but he certainly wasn’t playing fair.

Yeah, you can still be mad at him.

Your eye twitches as Robin and Leigh gush over horror movies they both love, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving you when they head off together for a bathroom break.

His eyes actually burn your cheek from the way they stare down the row in your direction now that he doesn’t have her to focus on. Clear to you now that all you are - all you ever were - is an afterthought, something to pass the time.

Refusing to look his way, you try not to feel bad about the sigh you hear all the way from five seats away.

Oh, I’m sorry Steve, are you mildly upset that I don’t want to talk to you after you got me to open up just to blindside me?

You’re not surprised when a dark denim leg presses against your shoulder, his large brown boots landing on the open seat next to you as he climbs over. As he sits, you stand, quickly making your way down the row, occupying Robin’s empty seat on the other side of Nancy.

Steve stands, hands on his hips as he frowns. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

Turning your attention back to the field, your knees bounce with restless energy, anticipating his next move. An intricate dance just like the players below you.

Steve climbs back over, and you can’t help but relish a little in his groan and mumbled comment about being twelve under his breath as you shimmy between Eddie and Nancy, shoving Eddie into your old seat, ignoring his grunted protests. Unable to help yourself, you smirk into your beer, watching out of the corner of your eye as Steve’s jaw clenches. Making him irritated seems only fair under the circumstances.

You’re ready for his next attempt, sure he’s going to make Nancy swap with him or come up behind you. So when he puts his foot on the chair, you move to the edge of your seat. Steve pounces, tumbling over the back of the row in front of you instead. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed pink as his hands land on the armrests of your spot. His arms cage you in as he leans over the back of the blue metal chairs, ignoring the grumbled complaints of those he bumped out of the way in his pursuit.

His face fills your vision, freckles that dot the sharp slope of his nose, the light scruff he’s let grow more highlight’s the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cupid’s bow. For a second you forget you’re supposed to be mad when you finally meet his eyes. They steal all of your attention and you hate that you can’t look away.

You hate him.

“We’re gonna talk,” he huffs, catching his breath.

“You should hit the gym.” A sad attempt to change the subject, to hurt him a little. Your eyes flit down to his lips in a mistake. You can’t look at his eyes again so you settle on his cheek, trying your best to ignore the endearing pair of freckles.

“I know you’re mad, and if you just let me explain, I-“

“You’ve had plenty of chances to explain before today Steve!”

The hush of the people around you makes your eyes close, taking a moment for a calming breath. Eddie coughs into his fist on your left and squints at the field, Nancy scratches the denim on her thigh and clears her throat on your right.

Steve’s eyes narrow, his top lip pulls in, tongue licking over it before he lets out a cold laugh, “Jesus Christ, what was I supposed to do, tell you while we’re fucking? Or how about after you told me about your parents? I-“

The beer in your hand splashes across his face as he coughs and sputters. His fingers wipe over his eyes and you stand, pushing past the gawking crowd and down the stairs.

Nancy and Eddie were right.

Steve Harrington is a fucking idiot.

You’d rode the train past your stop twice, both your airpods in and a look about you that dared anyone to even glance at you the wrong way. At the sight of the sun sinking past the horizon, you bite down on your cheek, willing your gut to stop twisting as it attaches a thing you love to him. Steve Harrington was not going to ruin sunsets for you, you draw the line at fucking grilled cheese and football.

The flick of your entryway lamp illuminates your place, the lyrics “You call me strawberry wine…” drift out of your airpod as you remove it from your ear. You’ve had enough of the universe’s poetic irony today. Tossing the case and your keys into their dish as you turn the lock on your door.

The sunset is the least of your worries, what didn’t he touch here? Your door, the coffee mugs he proclaimed as his favorites, the counter, the fire escape. You reach for the bottle of wine on top of your fridge as you click on the Instagram notification.

A caption reading ‘We just hope both teams had fun🏈 ’ below her photos. A selfie first, Robin’s bashful face filling the screen, getting her cheek kissed by Nancy. Another, this one with you - she must have caught it during bags - a shot of Eddie and you mid-laugh. The last one clearly taken after you left, the group in the stands, Steve’s sweater gone, replaced by a dry light blue t-shirt. You click your phone locked again and drink straight out of the bottle as you walk down the dark hallway. Old wood floors creak underneath your feet as you make your way to your room.

Fuck, your room.

It’s a moment that perhaps you should be crying during, do normal people cry when boys like Steve Harrington blindside them? When a man you start to break down for was spooning you fully clothed at the start of the day and getting a beer tossed in his face by the end, shouldn’t some sort of despair come out in the form of dramatic tears? Nothing leaves your eyes though as you strip the sheets off of your bed. Steve’s not worth any. No guy is.

Tugging harshly at the last corner of the fitted sheet with a frustrated grunt, you throw all of your bedding out into the hallway and slam the door. The flutter of paper on your desk as the door swings closed catches your eye, your chest tightens at the realization of what you left there.

The glow from the setting sun outside washes over the photobooth strip as you walk towards it, lit up in a perfect square of tangerine. Your thumb brushes the last photo as you pick it up, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

It rips easier than maybe it should have, diminished to something small and as broken as you can make it before you toss it in the trash in your bathroom. Your eyes linger on the shower curtain and then your shampoo. The wine bottle presses to your lips again as you make a mental note, adding those to your list of things to replace tomorrow as well.

Your phone pings again, the group chat you’ve just been recently added to:

Your thumb presses the lock after turning it to silent, the dots from Robin appearing letting you know you don’t want to keep reading all of them talk. Your bare mattress stares at you as you drink more wine. They’re home. Together? In his apartment? In his bed?

It doesn’t matter, good for Steve, hope he’s happy. Good fucking riddance, right?

Opening your bedroom door, you sigh at the pile of bedding, stepping over it and making your way to your couch. Your protective wall is still standing, your armor dusted off and polished once more. It’s time to pick up the pieces, replace what’s broken, and move on from what others like Eddie may want to tell you is heartbreak, but you would argue is just called life.

And life is pain, and anyone who tells you differently is selling something, right?

Halloween season used to be one of your favorite times of the year. Parties and opportunities to dress up like someone you’re not. Evenings to be a character in a story far different than the one you were living, with lines already planned for you to say, an ending meticulously thought out. Now, however, the red fabric that clings to your body serves only as a reminder of how your life is the furthest thing from picture perfect.

Originally, when you found the dress thrifting with Robin, it had felt a little like fate. A tiny and gentle nudge from the universe in the right direction - a sign. Now, you’re sure it was actually some twisted joke. Someone, somewhere out there, is laughing it up as they play with you like a plastic doll. Because even meeting Robin, a thing you were positive was divine intervention, is now wrapped around him. Some evil force at work as they had you meet her, then him, while they cackled and said ‘Ha! Watch this! This one’ll be good.’

Your costume now a cruel oxymoron - a girl who resents love dressed as someone who cherishes it. Pretending to be a girl who loved a boy endlessly, so devoted, she claimed to die the day he supposedly did. A girl who-

“You know,” a finger pokes your cheek, “For a princess, your sour look is not very princessey.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at you, hands on her hips, orange fabric of her skirt swishing around her thighs as she turns. Her sparkly red turtleneck and shine of her black mary jane’s glint in the strobe lights that are making sweeps over the room.

You try to smile, if only for the fact that Nancy actually got her to wear the costume. Crossing your arms, your eyebrows raise as you respond, “Well, you must be a detective or something, Miss Dinkley.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but fights a smile, fiddling with the magnifying glass in her hands. When you don’t say anything more though, her big blue eyes soften as they glance up at you through fake glasses, and she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, is everything okay? I feel like…” she trails off, shaking her head, at a loss for words it seems - an unusual thing for her.

The line for the bar shifts forward and you nod, that terrible feeling still sits heavy in your stomach like a bag of rocks - you’re weighed down, to be left at the bottom of your guilt to drown. “I’m fine, Robin,” it slips out when you repeat the words quieter, because maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aha!” She points a finger in your face, “You just said be fine, implying something is in fact not fine currently and-“

“Robin,” your laugh is unconvincing even to yourself. You rub your temples as you face the bar. “Quit being a meddling kid.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out with a little more bite than you intend and her mouth shuts quickly. It’s silent for only a few seconds though, before her shoulder bumps yours. Her question quiet, “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

Your head rests against her shoulder in a silent ‘I’m sorry’, hers against yours in an equally unspoken ‘You’re forgiven’ as you sigh. “Oh, just since you put on the costume.”

She hums and then lifts her head and faces you. “Last thing, and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

Facing her, you swallow harshly as she stares at you with eyes that feel like they can see everything. Even more so when she says, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re important to me. And if there’s something going on…” she trails off before smiling sadly and continuing, “You can tell me, okay? You can open up and I’ll probably talk too much and offer too much advice, but comes from a place of love and-“

You hug her tightly, Robin wraps her arms around you just as fiercely as her sentence breaks off. Your response sticks in your throat, an alarming hope of ‘what if I told her?’ rising in you that you need to squash down quickly. She can’t know, despite Nancy’s warning that she should. If she did find out, you’re not certain she’d be on your side anyways. It was all your idea to lie to her, it’s selfish of you to ask her to comfort you in this situation.

Especially after you made her practically drag you to the party tonight. Eventually giving into her puppy dog pout (for a girl who easily falls for it, she has a pretty convincing one herself), your guilt all but consuming you at this point. You could put on a smile, a brave face - you could pretend to be someone you’re not, just tonight, and just for her.

You haven’t seen Steve since the football game, ignoring any sort of notification related to him in your phone. But in the process of trying to remove anything Steve from your life, you’ve removed Robin from it as well - a packaged deal. Each ignored message, each call you watched ring and left unanswered, every dodged lunch, were just more punches to your gut, pieces of your heart ripped off and stepped on. You missed Robin so much, one night out, forced to make small talk with him, was a fair price to pay for the deceit and lies - if it meant you got to see her again.

When you break away from the hug, it’s your turn for the bar finally. Both of your eyes widen at the sight of the specialty drink menu. ‘Bootini’s’ and things like a cocktail called ‘Vampire Kiss’ making both of you frown at the dollar signs next to each. You’re suddenly grateful for the tequila that’s still filling your stomach with warmth and Eddie’s insistence on taking the shots before leaving Nancy’s.

“They do have like, a regular bar, right? Cause your girl is on a budget and…” your sentence trails off as Robin smiles at something, someone, over your shoulder.

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.”

His voice alone is enough to make your shoulders go up, to cause your stomach to twist, but when you spin to see him, you know it’s not the tequila making the room feel fuzzy and your stomach heave.

He can’t be serious.

He is not wearing that. He’s not.

“Come up with that all by yourself, did ya?” Robin pats Steve’s shoulder and before he can reply she’s holding up a hand in front of his face, letting out a low whistle. “Hoolly cooww.” She motions for Leigh to spin who blushes and laughs, but obliges as Robin keeps going, “Miss Morticia Addams, if you wanna ditch Dingus here…”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, an edge to his tone you may have found amusing if it wasn’t because of his best friend hitting on his girlfriend. “Seriously, Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him and Leigh laughs more, squeezing his shoulder. “I should be the one saying holy cow! Look at you two! Y/N, where did you find that dress?”

God, you hate that she’s nice.

Her dress is phenomenal. The low cut, black fabric that hugs her curves and drapes over her flattering in a way it simply wouldn’t be on you. She’s got the perfect gauzy sleeves, the rings and red lips and nails, she’s even got a rose and scissors in her hand.

You hate that you want to like this girl.

Your smile is tense, “I, uh-“

The bartender clears her throat and you point, saved by the bell, turning your back on the group. A name of one of the drinks leaves your lips and you’re vaguely aware of Robin saying something about finding the others and to not order her something with whiskey in it because he remembers what happened last time.

The deep breathing through your nose is a sad attempt for composure when you get a longer chance to take Steve in. Even with the dim bar lighting, the mirror behind the shelf of various liquors gives you a perfect view. You’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him.

Steve’s dressed in all black, head to toe, the v-cut of the flowy top revealing quite a bit of his dark chest hair and you swallow, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. You always hated how Buttercup couldn’t tell it was Westley, in fact, you hate it in any movie when a character has a mask over their eyes and suddenly everyone is unable to tell who they’re dancing with, hell who’s kissing them. If anything, the black band of fabric across his face only makes the lips below and the eyes underneath it stand out more - the curve of his top lip you can still feel under your tongue. The colors of his iris’ so distinctly Steve that you’d recognize anywhere - instead of a sea after a storm, a forest. He really went all out, even his scruff shaved to have a thin mustache, he’s wearing the black cap pushing down his normally styled and perfectly messy hair, and when you glance down, you’re not surprised to find matching pirate boots standing next to you.

His hand reaches across your chest with a matte black card - that kind that isn’t glossy like a normal one and you quickly hand the bartender crumpled bills instead, earning a sigh from Steve.

“You’re not seriously wearing that.” Weeks of no contact, and you hate that your voice doesn’t come out strong and confident when that’s all you can think to say.

Risking a glance his way, you find his eyes are already on you, his jaw clenching before he asks, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Your inhale is sharp - how can he be this cruel? How can he act like that costume means nothing, or like the last few weeks weren’t awful? Weren’t they awful for him? To go from talking almost every day to nothing?

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?” Gesturing up and down his body as you ask. He truly can’t be this much of an asshole, he can’t-

Steve shrugs. “I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Turns out, he can be.

Before you can even start to formulate something nasty to respond with, a person walking by shouts out, “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!” Clapping Steve’s shoulder as they waltz past like it’s the 90’s and people still say ‘dudes’ to strangers.

Dude did just make your point for you at least, though.

You hold your hands out to the retreating body in a show of ‘see?’ and then childishly flip Steve off. “The case rests, your honor.”

“It was last minute and I didn’t-”

His weak and pathetic attempts at excuses fall on deaf ears as you push your way through the crowd towards the beacon of red neon announcing an exit for this god forsaken bar.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you don’t think it is - screw Steve Harrington for ruining a fucking bar, for ruining the word dude, for ruining The Princess Bride, for ruining everything.

Screw everything.

The sting of rejection and the quiet anger that’s been sitting at a simmer since the game rests over an open flame now. Your insides quickly grow to a rapid boil. Apathy and anger rage for the top spot as everything you’ve tried to keep under a lid steams, ready to overflow and burn.

Ignoring the calls of your name, something still makes it past your seeing red rampage of an exit, connecting the voices, aware of Steve saying something to someone, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care who or what. The cool air hits your body as you push outside, stinging against the damp skin under your eyes.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, his voice quiet, “Y/N-“

“Don’t touch me, Steve,” you warn, taking a step backwards after yanking your shoulder from under his fingers. Your hands balled into fists as you spin to look at him.

He runs a hand through his now uncovered hair, face fully revealed without a mask too. He watches you closely, his voice gentle, as he raises his hands up, “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-“

“You don’t get to check on me anymore, or worry about if I’m okay, you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone scathing.

Steve’s gaze bounces over your face, his jaw hardens as the vein in his forehead dances. Somehow his voice is soft despite the bite to it, “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I am your friend, and I -“

Your laugh causes him to break off. You gesture inside and then to his outfit. “Friends don’t treat each other this way, Steve.”

He drags his palms down his face, his own disbelieving laugh echoes against the brick of the bar. “Are you kidding me? I have been nothing but your friend! I am sorry about what I said at the game, but really, when was I supposed to tell you? And this costume…I…” He shakes his head, licking his lips as he takes a step closer to you. “Look. I should have told you about Leigh sooner, but if you would have given me five minutes to-“

“Five minutes. A sec.” Your hands move in quotation marks as you recall the conversation he wanted to have at the game too. Your face pinches into an irritated scowl as your hands drop in front of you, palms open. Exasperation laced around your words, “What the fuck is there to explain anymore, Harrington? You’re dating her and you didn’t tell me - the story is over.”

Steve stands just in front of you now, that gravitational pull at silent work again, even weeks apart unable to switch it off. Your bodies move with each other, your voices rise in sync, your chests fall with shared breaths. A different sidewalk, that same feeling of flight or fight, but you know that it’s too late this time. Even turning the heat off isn’t going to fix the damage that’s been done.

Another laugh huffs out of him, “You’d like that, right? That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything.” He shakes his head and points to his chest, towering over you, “This is all such total bullshit. You’re mad at me for something that was your idea, because you didn’t get to decide when it was over.” He shrugs, waves of nonchalance carrying his words through the air to hit you hard like a slap across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

Any maturity you attempted to have towards the situation has evaporated.

“Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

Your chests almost touch with each ragged breath as his hands run through his hair and he pulls. A frustrated groan at your words, while the volume at which his come out becomes louder, “I’ve got plenty of fucking mirrors, why don’t you take your own advice! You’re a hypocrite. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you didn’t ask me for this arrangement. Tell me that the words ‘no feelings’ and ‘just sex’ didn’t leave your mouth. Tell me what you have to be upset with me for then!”

Your chin quivers at his words, the truth of them daring the tears behind your eyes to fall.

Steve gulps, his fingers dance on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes shine with his own held back tears, like he regrets how he said it but not that he did. His voice quiets as he pleads, “Tell me.”

He doesn’t get to look at you like that. He doesn’t get to say those things to you and then look at you like that.

What happened last time Steve Harrington asked you to open up and tell him something?

Tequila lingers on your tongue, aiding in the formation of words that are meant to sting - you want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. You bite down on your jaw, the anger and pain ready to fall down your cheeks as you remove yourself from him.

Your hands press against his chest, “You’re bullshit. This is bullshit.” A small shove as you practically growl the next words, “I’m a hypocrite? How about the fucking bathroom at that party where you told me I couldn’t have it both ways, but then you’re dating someone while getting all jealous?” Another shove, this time his fingers brush your wrists, a halfhearted attempt to get you to stop. “Begging me to open up to you? For fucking what, Steve? This costume? You…” you close your eyes and let your hands drop, letting the words do all the work now, “You’re a liar. You’re an asshole.”

Steve’s head ducks down, his fingers brushing his nose before he rolls his shoulders back. When his mouth opens, you step backwards, shaking your head.

“Lose my number, Steve.”

His eyes roam over your face, waiting, searching. He only nods once and takes his own step back.

“As you wish.”

Your breath sucks in sharply, a sob you’ve been holding in since the moment he said the words ‘Sorry we’re late’ threatens to finally crack out of your chest. You wish you had another beer to toss in his face for using those words at this moment.

It’s not said with the kind of reverence of the movie. There isn’t a narrator to let you know what he actually means by the phrase. But you know. It’s not an ‘I love you’, not like this. No, it’s merely a promise to do as you asked.

All you can do is turn away from him, hold your chin up and roll your shoulders back as you walk down the sidewalk.

There is no hopeful glance back over your shoulder, no loud smacks against the pavement made by his feet chasing after you like in the movies.

Like you said, your story is over.

'One New Voicemail':

“Hey, just thought I’d try ya, I know you’ve been busy. Um, well, Steve and I are heading to the Rocky Horror show tonight and I know he’d love someone to aid in his teasing of how totally into it I get. Right Steve?”

[muffled sounds of movement and whispers]

“Hm…yeah, I uh-”

[a clear smack to his shoulder]

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you or we’ve done something just the three of us! Anyways, call me back, text me…beep me if you wanna reach me…ugh, sorry that was so lame, okay bye. Love you!”

If you were surviving before them, you could survive without them. It seemed simple enough.

You’ve never stayed in one place for long, friendships like Robin, Eddie, and Nancy had been left before. Friendships that were never given a chance to really even start before you were gone. The promise of any relationships packed into boxes and off to the next city. Addresses and phone numbers and notes of ‘Keep in touch’ left to collect dust until forgotten about completely.

So, it should have been easy to continue to ignore their messages. To ignore the holes in your chest, to ignore the want to call or text one of them when something happened as mundane as a stranger calling another stranger ‘toots’ in your mailroom. If Steve touched things in your life and now caused them to wilt in your memories and sights, the other three made things bloom. They breathed life into you again.

You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington take something like that away from you.

Which is why you found yourself curled into your father’s sweater for courage, walking down the sidewalk towards the cemetery with a promise to meet them there.

Orange and brown leaves crinkle underfoot before they blow across the pavement. The moon is full, the sky that deep indigo it seems to only get this time of year. Both a perfect backdrop for the bare trees that dance in the wind and the blocks lined with homes with glowing porch lights. Orange buckets overflowing with candy rush past in a blur, laughter and squeals of children echoing down the street past you.

As you make it to the black iron fence, your eyes roam the blankets and patrons occupying them in the park next to the cemetery. Apple and brown sugar meet your nose and you take special note of the mini donut booth attached to the scent. Which is where you see Eddie, shoving two in his mouth and rolling his eyes at Nancy. He spots you and grins around the sugary dough, nudging the shoulder to his right and nodding in your direction.

Robin spins and you see her shoulders visibly fall and a grin spread across her face. She says something to the other two who head in the direction of the blankets and she races through the crowd. Muffled oofs and sorry’s meet your ears as she dodges and spins around people balancing concessions.

You reach the front of the line, a sandwich board proudly displaying the original ‘The Evil Dead’ poster sits next to an older woman on a stool at the gate. She smiles at you, holding a flashlight towards the ground. “Ticket, dear?”

“Rose! Rose, she's my girl!” Robin shouts, breathless as she makes it to the gate.

“Oh!” The elderly woman smiles wider, ushering you through, “Have fun ladies! Tell Edward I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robin salutes with two fingers and then grabs you in a hug. “Jesus Christ I missed you!” Her voice is loud and she shrinks in your arms as the lights of the booths go out and the crowd surrounding you turns and shushes. Her voice shifts to a whisper, “Whoops. Come on, we’re towards the back and we still have all the commercials to chat without too many nasty looks.”

Robin holds your arm in a death grip, a silent promise to not let you out of her sights and clutches so long as she can help it again it seems. When you reach the blanket, Nancy and Eddie’s conversation stops abruptly and their smiles seem painted on as they look up at you.

It’s one of those moments, those silences that are too stilted and too abrupt, letting you know exactly what was being discussed just seconds before. You wave a little, ears burning since you have no doubt about who the subject of their interrupted conversation was.

“Eddie,” Robin begins, huffing as she falls to their cushy spot with extra blankets, trays of drinks, and several bags of sweets littered around them, “Rose is fiending.”

“Oh shit!” Ducking and wincing when someone turns around and glares at him. He grabs one of the cups with a big R on top and squeezes your shoulder as he stands, “Be right back! Glad you came!”

Sitting as Robin pats his now empty spot next to her. “Can I get you anything? We have cocoa and cider, donuts, popcorn, candy corn, caramel corn, basically any kind of corn and-“

“Robin,” Nancy hums, almost singing, as she sips from a cup. She squeezes her fingers. “You have to actually take a breath to let her respond.”

“I’ll never say no to a cider or donut,” you point to the items with a laugh.

Robin grabs them and hands it to you. She whacks pillows and squishes around, rolling and frowning and readjusting.

Eventually, she sighs, content, and grabs Nancy’s hand and then a donut from your bag and knocks it against one in your fingers before taking a bite.

“Happy?” Nancy asks as Robin hums around the sugar she licks off of her lips.

“You know it. Only thing that would make tonight better is…” she trails off with a grin.

You take her words as a warning to look around, wondering where he is and mentally preparing yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you though.

It happens quickly and yet not at the same time.

Your head turns to see them walking hand in hand. A swing of fingers as they walk past twinkling lights, the breeze blowing her hair perfectly.

Nancy says “Shit,” under her breath as she sits up. When you turn to look at her with a frown, she opens her mouth but no words come out.

The movie starts.

Eddie slows down as he makes his way back towards the blanket, looking at Nancy then over his shoulder then back at you.

Robin waves her arm too much and you turn to look again, trying to figure out what you’re not getting.

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he stops, tripping over his own shoe.

Leigh waves and something sparkles on her hand in the moonlight.

Robin beams and squeezes your wrist. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe they actually came! I figured with the whole engagement thing they wouldn’t. Now it’s all officially perfect. All my favorite people together on my favorite day.”

Plot twist: Steve Harrington is engaged.

WCIL taglist:

@loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

#steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #we'll call it love

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weird-is-life · 11 months

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Hi I was wondering if you could do a steve harrington x reader where he asks reader to move in and its sweet as well as give her a promise ring

Hii lovely, ty for the request! I haven't written for Steve in a while now, which is a crime really😭. Hope you like it, warnings: use of pet names, fluff, (0.6k)

Steve's been saving up money for his own place for a while now. But finally, he has enough to find a nice, cosy place to call home.

And surprisingly, he finds one pretty easily and signs the papers straight away with a big big smile.

He can imagine his future life in there already, there's just one thing missing, you. But he plans on making it your home too, well If you agree to move in with him.

So as you guys walk hand in hand from your date, he says," I want to show you something.." He says it exactly right in front of the apartment complex. He intentionally chose restaurant close to the apartment.

"Okay?" you say, a bit confused by it, but you follow him inside as he navigates the building with his hand holding yours.

You get even more baffled, when you stop on one of the last floors and he magically brings out a key and opens the door.

You hesitately step inside the apartment behind Steve. It's open and big, enough space for a couple. Your first thought is that you like it, it looks very cosy. Even if there's no furniture yet.

"What do you think?" Steve smiles at you, tho there's a small flicker of uncertainty on his face.

"Steve, what's this?" you ask shyly. Of course, you've thought of the obvious answer, but you don't want to assume anything and then have your hopes crushed.

"Well...," he starts as he smiles at you nervously, " you know, I've been saving money for a while now. A-and I finally saved up enough for a proper apartment. I looked for a good place and found this one and i knew it was the one, so I....I got it. "

"You got it?" your eyes go wide, "it's really yours?"

"It's mine," he grins proudly," but it could be ours. I'd like for you to call it home, too" he adds.

Steve retrieves something from his pocket, as he extends the hand towards you, you recognise what's on it. There's a key and a ring, hanging on the chain.

"I know, it can be a lot, but I'd love it if you moved in with me, honey" you slowly accept the chain, eyes even wider then before.

Steve notices your panic as you look at the ring and reassures you," I'm not proposing," he chuckles," even if I really want to marry you someday, sweetheart. It's just a promise ring for now."

You are relieved immediately, because you don't think neither you or Steve are ready for marriage yet, but you love the idea of the promise ring. And you love the idea of living with your Steve full time much much more.

You suddenly throw yourself at Steve, hugging him tightly with a giggle. It catches him off guard for a second, but when he processes it, he squeezes you tightly, face burying into your neck. " Stevie, I'd love to move in with you, t-this place is perfect."

Now it's Steve's turn to be relieved, he is so so happy, that you agreed. Because he doesn't think he would survive it if you didn't.

"Really? Oh my god, you are the best, sweetheart. I promise, I'll take care of the cleaning, I'll cook, I'll do everything." He lifts you up in his arms and spins you around happily. Steve's a giver, always, so you have no doubt, that you and him will split the household chores equally.

"I know, Stevie. I love this place and I love you," you say with a happy smile.

"I love you more, you have no idea," he responds, lovesick look on his face (that's basically his normal look around you). He gives you quick kiss or two and gives you a tour of the apartment.

"We need to go to the stores tomorrow.....-" you instantly start planning the decorations as you leave the apartment. And Steve just nods, he is more than happy to let you decorate it however you want. He needs only one thing there, you. Nothing else about it matters to him.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington

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lisbeth-kk · 4 months

Text

May Prompts (24) Imperfect

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 24)

Summary: Rosie meets a young man in Paris. Love is in the air but one thing gnaws on Rosie's nerves. She need to warn Timothy of her protective relatives without making him run for the hills.

Twenty-Four Years Old

When my first year in Paris was coming to an end, I went with a group from my school to a party. It was held in a big apartment that apparently belonged to some ridiculously rich aunt. The amount of red wine I’d drunk before we arrived, made sure I didn’t remember the details of the family tree.

What I do remember was the young man reading French poems with a British accent, and afterwards, the beginning of an interesting story about two men finding each other in a dream, and later apparently meeting in real life. I desperately wanted to hear more, but when I got him talking, he said that he wasn’t sure the idea was good enough to pursue.

“You wrote this?” I asked baffled. “I thought it was brilliant!”

“That’s probably the Pinot talking,” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “People normally say that it’s utter bullshit.”

I huffed at this ludicrous statement.

“So, why read it out loud, then?” I challenged him.

“Dunno. Perhaps I hoped that someone like you may turn up and like it” he quipped.

“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” I muttered and rolled my eyes.

***

Timothy and I were thick as thieves after that evening, and it soon evolved into more than friendship. He was studying literature and creative writing at Sorbonne Nouvelle, which was located quite close to Marguerite’s building. After our first official date, I pondered bringing him to my place, but uncle’s surveillance made me reconsider. Dad and Papa planned on visiting soon, and I knew it was futile trying to hide anything from Papa.

You’d better prepare the poor sod, before meeting the British Inquisition, I thought with a grimace.

After David, Papa wouldn’t make the same mistake of failing to observe even the tiniest flaw.

We hadn’t talked about our families at all, because there were so many other topics that were interesting, but I knew time was running out. I decided that after a good meal with some wine, it would be the perfect time to tell him about my fiercely protective family.

Rinsing and eating mussels, is a sticky and quite down-to-earth affair, and a better opportunity would be hard to find, so I plunged in with both feet so to speak.

“I…um…think it’s time to tell you about my…family,” I started.

“All of them, or just your fathers?” Timothy said while dipping a bite of bread in the creamy sauce.

I almost dropped my spoon in surprise. Had I told him that I was raised by two men and no mother? Not to my knowledge. Perhaps some of my other friends…

“Rosie?” Timothy said softly.

“Do you know who they are? Have you…”

Timothy lifted his hands, motioning me to calm down.

“Sorry, I assumed you knew,” he murmured.

“Knew what?” I snapped. “You’re worse than…”

“I know who you are, Rosamund Watson-Holmes. A dossier, I think will suffice as a description, was delivered to me by a courier after our first coffee date. Four “letters” from each of your watchdogs. I didn’t know there were so many ways to threaten a person…”

“Damn, them!” I exclaimed. “Always, they have to meddle just because I had one bad boyfriend. Jesus, they’re incorrigible.”

“No matter how imperfect you find them, they love you dearly, or should I say fiercely,” Timothy chuckled. “After the initial shock, I must say I found it quite amusing and adorable. Four grown men, with the careers they have, your dad even an ex-military, and they’re all softies. Your police uncle was probably the scariest, come to think of it. Not that he doesn’t love you to bits, but he was the only one who stayed somewhat professional. He certainly didn’t bring any medieval torture methods or mafia tendencies into the equation if I hurt you purposefully or otherwise.”

“Oh, God,” I growled utterly devasted of my protective relatives.

Timothy chose to call them The Fab Four, which still earns him stern looks, but I know the four protectors are quite proud of themselves.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 24: imperfect #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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wanderingwriter87 · 7 months

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i used to stare up at the moon. longing.

the closest i ever got was the big gray model at the science museum, big enough to fill a room, but so small really, in the grand scheme.

astronauts, i was told, had to be good at math. i could always ask my mother now - did she say that to motivate, or disqualify? did she hope that memory of the moon, that desire, would reach me while i sat sobbing over pre-algebra at the dining room table?

playing a conversation game, i am asked the prompt. would you rather have a million dollars or go to the moon? (but you can't tell anyone you've been. it must stay a secret, between the moon and you.)

it is an easy choice for me. my husband and his friend are baffled - what's the point of going to the moon if not to brag of the experience? i want to ask them if they've never wanted something just to want it.

(later i will learn the answer, when i find the love letter hidden in his wallet)

i know that i will never have what i wanted in those moments. when the moon looked so close it felt like i could build a ladder and touch it, touch it with my bare hands. that is as close to impossible as anything can be.

but what if the moon saw me one day - if i made her smile? what if she asked me, why are you staring? do you want -?

oh no, no, i would have to demur. i mean, yes. of course i want. but you see, i was never good at math.

what does math have to do with anything? she would ask.

well then, i would say. yes. i have always wanted to touch you.

(did you know the moon can blush?)

#my writing

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thatgayoctopus · 8 months

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guuuUUUYS I wrote a Smol Smol kinda angsty Dr. Two Brains and Wordgirl one shot where she asks him about removing Squeaky's brain and he says no!!! Because I don't think he would say yes even though I want him to!!! It has a good ending because I'm a sucker for soft things™

No warnings!

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

"...what?"

Doctor Two brains seemed baffled by the question WordGirl randomly asked. They'd just finished a battle, standing and chatting atop a building while they waited for the police to arrive to take him to jail.

"I... I was just wondering, Y'know, with Dr. Tubing moving away soon that you'd consider getting... It removed."

She gave him an awkward smile, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable weight in the air. He gaped at her for another moment, before sighing and shaking his head.

"No, kid. I'm sorry, but... No."

"wh- why not!? I know that that brain hurts you, and I know Steven hates having to commit crimes-!"

He winced as Squeaky sent a sharp throb of pain through his skull at the mention of Steven, and he held a hand up to silence her. He gently cupped his left hand over the small brain, realizing that this only proves Wordgirl's point further. He couldn't help but get a little frustrated, grumbling quietly.

"Wordgirl, I said no-!"

He snapped, accidentally shouting a little. She closed her mouth, the hurt and surprise visible on her face. Geez, sometimes he forgot that she really was just a kid.

"s- sorry, Wordgirl, I didn't mean to..."

He sighed, running his hands down his face as he struggled to put together the right words before continuing.

"Look Kiddo, I know how much you miss him. But the truth is, even if I get this removed, he won't be back."

He looked down at her, his face softening with sympathy. Her injured gaze followed his movements as he knelt down, attempting to hopefully help her feel a little more heard and safe. His words became a little gentler.

"I really only have hazy recollections of his memories, and I doubt they'd return. And frankly, Wordgirl, I don't want to go through all that again."

He shuddered at the memory of waking up in the lab, in pain and confused, nothing but two panicked voices in his own head to keep him company. The early days were harder to remember, since it was mostly Squeaky and Steven bossing each other around and haphazardly piloting their body through the city.

Wordgirl frowned, fiddling with the top of one of her gloves.

"go through... What again..?"

He looked down, one elbow on his knee as he slumped over slightly. He looked tired.

"Not knowing who I am, Wordgirl. I've only recently been Dr. Two Brains, and I'm still figuring out who that is! I just... I don't think I could handle another big change like that again, Y'know...?"

He tilted his head, searching for her gaze, but she avoided eye contact. It was a lot to take in for a little girl like her. He frowned, feeling a little guilty.

"wordgirl... I hope you know this doesn't mean we're not friends. I know it gets... Weird, sometimes, what with all the impulsive crime sprees and cheese obsessions, but kid... You can always come to me for help, alright...? Well, almost always, there's still rules against some things."

He chuckled, scratching his neck nervously as he remembered the "anti-conspiratory" rules in the Villian rulebook.

"we can't go to a museum together, pretty sure that's one..."

He mumbled, getting lost in thought. She was finally looking up at him, lip trembling as if she were about to cry.

"aw, kid, don't cry...!"

He opened his arms reflexively, offering her a hug. She ran into his arms so fast she knocked the wind out of him, her super strength nearly crushing him. With the way she could lift one of Tobey's giant robots like it was nothing, he knew she couldn't help it. He managed to wheeze out a simple sentence, patting her back awkwardly.

"k- kid, don't kill me--"

"oh! Sorry, heh--!"

She let go of him, stepping back and holding her hands behind her back apologetically.

He pressed a hand against his chest, catching his breath and giving a weak chuckle.

"no, no, it's alright. Asking a superhero for a hug, I should'a known better."

All in all, the interaction probably could've gone way worse. The sweet moment ended when his sensitive rodent ears picked up the sound of a roof access door opening around a small concrete wall, and he looked over. The two police officers rounded the corner and gave wordgirl a polite wave, the red haired woman speaking up.

"Heya Wordgirl! Great job stopping Doc again! We heard about the whole thing. Oh, uh, you too Two Brains I guess."

She offered him an unsure shrug and he rolled his eyes, standing and holding his hands behind his back so they could cuff him.

"Gee, thanks officers..."

He mumbled. Wordgirl, however, couldn't be happier with the praise, grinning and giving a playful curtsy with the corners of her cape.

"oh, it's nothing really, heh! See you later, Dr. Two Brains."

She gave him a final wave paired with a bittersweet smile, and he nodded appreciatively.

"till we meet again, Wordgirl!"

With that, the little hero zoomed off.

#the autism made me do it #doctor two brains word girl #doctor two brains #dr two brains #drabble #wordgirl oneshot #wordgirl writing #word girl #Wordgirl #hurt/comfort

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redgoldsparks · 6 months

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March Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 4 by Ryoko Kui

I'm reading these books so fast I can barely remember which parts of the plot happened in which volume but know that I am still having a great time!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 5 by Ryoko Kui

Oh, this story has taken a darker turn, and also just introduced a whole bunch more characters. Will I be able to keep track of them all? I hope so!

Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb, read by Anne Flosnik

Unfortunately, this is definitely the weakest Robin Hobb book I've read so far. I was expecting to like it less than the glorious, 5-star previous trilogy, but I actually think I'm going to skip the rest of the Rain Wild Chronicles and read summaries online to get to the next Fitz books. This book follows five main POV characters. This works fairly well for the first half, when the characters are all in different physical locations. However once all of the characters meet up, we start getting the same scene from multiple different POVs, which feels extremely repetitive. Also, almost EVERY SCENE includes a flashback, often a lengthy flashback, sometimes to something that happened only the previous day and could have been told as present-moment action. This writing choice baffled me. It's something I can't remember struggling with in any of Hobb's previous books, but by the end it was driving me up a wall. The book also moved very slowly; the stakes feel lower, and the character far less emotionally true than in the two Fitz trilogies. Disappointing, but I will keep moving forward towards the next part of the series I want to read.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 6 by Ryoko Kui

Damn, a lot of characters get murdered in this volume! Good thing almost everyone who dies in the dungeon can be revived. Also, very excited to finally meet the cat ninja I've been seeing fan art of since before I even started the series :3

Delicious in Dungeon vol 7 by Ryoko Kui

I am still completely caught up in this series. I love the glimpse of Senshi's past revealed in this volume, and the lore of the dungeon that is still being revealed. There was a line in here about how the dungeon leaves you alone if you don't ask much of it, but that if you have strong desires it throws even more obstacles into your way. Our heroes have such big goals right now, but they're marching ahead regardless!

School Trip by Jerry Craft

A satisfying new installment in the New Kid series from funny, talented, charming Jerry Craft! I appreciated how this volume started to complicate some of the students who had been left a bit one-dimensional in previous books. Several people stood up to and called out a bully; new friendships were built; and Jordan Banks left Paris even more inspired than ever to follow his dreams of becoming an artist. This series has a lot of jokes, but also a lot of heart!

A Frog in Fall (and Later On) by Linnea Sterte

Minor frog is less than a year old, and is dismayed when winter begins to steal all of the light and warmth from his world. Instead of bunking down safely with his mentor to wait for spring, he sets out on a journey with two vagabond toads passing by on a quest to make it all the way to the tropics. They tramp through the Japanese countryside, encountering tree spirits, new friends, dangers, and views the likes of which minor frog had never even imagined. This is a gorgeous book; every page worth pouring over, an economy of line and detail building a beautiful and mysterious world of talking animals and miniature packaged foods. Made me want to draw.

Dark Rise by CS Pacat read by Christian Coulson

In 1820s London, orphaned Will tries to earn enough as a dockworker to survive- and evade the killers pursuing him. Violet dresses in her half-brother's clothes and sneaks onto a ship in the Thames to watch a man be branded with his master's mark. Katherine excitedly anticipates her engagement to one of London's richest and most mysterious lords; his gallantry nearly makes up for the fact that he's twice her age. And in the bowels of one of that lord's ships, James tortures a man for information. All of these characters are 16 or 17 years old, but all of them are tangled in an ancient conflict between the Light and the Dark which stretches back into an age of magic before history. This is CS Pacat's YA fantasy debut, and it contains a lot of tropes very familiar to both YA and high fantasy- there are shades of both Tolkien and Rowling in this. Its fast-paced and action-packed, but especially in the first third of the story, the characters all felt fairly thin. None of them have quirks, hobbies, career hopes, relationships outside of immediate family, school, or work; or much more than a brief sketch of past. It took until the mid-way point for what I consider Pacat's major strengths as a writer to emerge: intense, homoerotic interpersonal sparring between characters operating under major power imbalances. Every scene in which the seductive, manipulative, powerful evil gay faced off against the good boy chosen one crackled with energy. Unfortunately, there were only four of these scenes in the whole book. It ends on a cliff-hanger, because of course it does, with a tempting set up for book two; but that doesn't entirely excuse the fact that the first 50% felt like set up. I will definitely keep reading, but long-time Pacat fans should take note that this is toned down version of what I expected based on Captive Prince.

Feeding Ghosts by Tessa Hulls (re-read before event)

What an accomplishment! I savored every page of Feeding Ghosts, absolutely floored by the labor and courage that went into the writing of this book. The inking is gorgeous, the history is clear, digestible, and devastating. This book threads the line between honesty and compassion in a way that I appreciate so much in any memoir, but especially one dealing with family. Hulls lays out the story of three generations of women starting with her grandmother, Sun Yi, a Shanghai journalist who faced intense persecution during the rise of Communism in China, who penned a popular and scandalous memoir and then suffered a mental breakdown. This left her only daughter, Rose, a student at an elite boarding school with no parental figures and no other family to lean on. Eventually Rose earned a scholarship to an American university and in the end moved her mother into her California home. Sun Yi haunted that home during the author's own childhood. The unexamined trauma and codependency of Sun Yi and Rose drove the author to the extreme edges of the Earth, seeking freedom from their ghosts. But in the end, she stopped running from her family history and turned, instead, to face it. Shelve this book with Maus, Fun Home, Persepolis and The Best We Could Do. Re-read it for a second time and got even more out of it on a second pass.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 8 by Ryoko Kui

Laios and company realize that their encounter with changling mushroom rings had more consequences than they'd realized- its the body swap episode! This visual humor is contrasted against increasing dangers from both above and below, as nastier monsters and political machinations begin to close in on our heroic adventuring party. I'm now over halfway through this series and almost feel like I should start reading it more slowly to savor it, but I'll probably just keep devouring it instead.

Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang and Leuyen Pham

High school senior Val grew up knowing her family was unlucky in love; for generations, relationships in her family have ended in heartbreak. Her childhood love of Valentines Day ends with a shocking family revelation and what feels like the beginning of a curse. Then her Vietnamese grandmother sweeps her off to a Lunar New Year celebration in downtown Oakland and a pair of cute lion dancer boys catch her eye. Could one of them break the spell on her heart? This story offers a classic and satisfying rom-com, with Val torn between an outgoing, rich, but flaky boy and a broody, shy, loyal one. The story takes several kdrama style twists and includes ghosts, saints, red envelopes, confessions, fights, reunions, tears, and kisses. For a comic, its wordy; the pages are dense with small panels and thick with dialogue, but also illustrated with such warm, humor, and realism. I really liked that the story included as much of Val's relationship with her family and best friend as romance. And the lion dancing scenes practically leap off the page with color and energy!

Witch Hat Atelier vol 10 by Kamome Shirahama

This series remains as visually stunning as ever but I'm struggling with how every single book expands the cast. There are so many characters now that I don't care about that much, and have trouble remembering from volume to volume. I wish the story line would stick more closely to Coco, her classmates, and their main mentors!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 9 by Ryoko Kui

Oh the stories are all converging! The savior at the bottom of the dungeon is probably a demon! Ituzumi saves the day! I am still having a great time reading this series.

A Dowry of Blood by ST Gibson read by Abby Craden

A short, very queer, very poly retelling of Dracula focusing on his coven of enthralled lovers. I liked the way the book breezed through history, as the dysfunctional little family moved from one major European city to the next, with snatched moments of glittering joy interwoven with violence and plague. The story is fairly simple, and has a happier ending than I expected, or honestly think the characters deserved.

City of Dragons by Robin Hobb

I DNFed the previous book in this series and just read a summary online before skipping ahead to this one. I think that was a very good choice for me. This third one was more engaging and a bit more action packed, with some cool discoveries about the city of Kelsingra and the nature of Elderlings. But the Rain Wild Chronicles as a whole do not stand up to the quality of the Farseer books. There are so many POV characters that a few of them get only two or three scenes in this whole book. I don't feel that I deeply know any of these characters; while at the same time watching Hobb pair them off at an extraordinary rate- in the last book five sets of characters got together and in this book an additional two couples are developing feelings for each other. Between this and a kidnapping, a birth, a murder, and a lot of blackmail, this series feels like a soap opera.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 10 by Ryoko Kui

Almost two TPKs in this volume, yikes!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 11 by Ryoko Kui

You know shit's getting serious when the character who has been the series main villain up until now is partially devoured by a different, worse villain. Exciting changes coming to this dungeon under it's new lord and master!

Squad by Maggie Tokuda-Hall and Lisa Sterle

When Becca gets invited to sit with the popular girl clique at her new high school, she's thrilled. But the friendship turns bloody and complicated when she learns that her new friends are actually werewolves who need to kill and feed on a human once a month. If she joins them, Becca will gain superhuman strength and a pack; she'll never have to fear a male predator again, because she will be a predator herself. I loved the queer rep and the twist on werewolf lore; I wish it had been a little longer and more developed. Give me multi-page transformations sequences!

Delicious in Dungeon vol 12 by Ryoko Kui

I love seeing all these plot lines come together! Building towards a wild climax.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 13 by Ryoko Kui

I went out and *bought* vol 13 of this series because my library didn't have it yet, that's how hooked I am. And now I have to wait until JULY for the final volume! (But also, thank goodness I didn't get into this series any sooner or I'd have a much longer wait).

#book reviews #books #reading #comics #manga

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holyparadisenightmare · 5 months

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"You can call me Steph. I'll be showing you the ropes of your new life," the upbeat woman began. The tall woman, slender in build with long blonde hair, stood before the door of what resembled a frat out.

You looked around. You were at the center of a group of young women who had all fallen on hard times. Desperate to not pay rent for a few months, you had entered into a house of surrogate mothers. The deal was, you had to carry a child to term, and in return you'd be pampered and well fed all the while. Plus, you'd be paid.

Steph spared no time welcoming the women into her home. The front door entered into a long corridor. Either side was lined with doors, marked with various women's names. A few were open, and gave way to rooms filled with women in various stages of pregnancy.

Towards the end, you saw a door with yours and another woman's name: Chloe and Elyse. No one said you'd be sharing a space. Nerves welled inside you as you carried on along the tour.

The corridor opened into a large communal kitchen that was empty except for your party of people and Steph leading you. The space was well lit, the far wall being entirely made of windows which showcased the backyard; a large paddock sparcely populated by farmhands busy at work.

To the right of the kitchen were a number of unmarked doors. Steph explained "These are the insemination rooms. You've each had the choice of natural or in vetro fertalisation! How cool!" Her high energy never skipping a beat.

This ended the tour and she guided you each into your respective bedrooms. As you open the door you're greeted by a short, heavily pregnant woman.

You were baffled by her form. She was dressed in ill-fitting clothes, as if she had worn the clothes she arrived in. Her pants sat too low around an ass which threatened every seam along its length. Her shirt hung sheer at the end of her erect belly button, with her breasts desperately shoved inside.

You were immediately turned on by the large woman shoved into cramped clothes. It took you more than a second to come down to earth. Come to think of it, everyone you'd seen so far was much the same way. Clad in clothes far too small.

She smiled awkwardly as you walked in. "Hi roomie! I'm Elyse."

You introduce yourself as you begin to unpack. The room wasn't small, but wasn't very large either. A simple bedroom with a double bed on either side. Elyse's side was decorated with false ivy, fairy lights and album art.

"I didn't know we could decorate!" You exclaimed in awe of her arrangement.

"Of course!" she said with enthusiasm. "It can be hard to get out sometimes. I'm only 5 months in and it can be hard to walk. But I know someone who can get us stuff, so let me know."

Your eyes widened. "5 months?"

"You should see Billy." The woman said with enthusiasm. "She's almost due. Big as a house. Not literally, but she might as well be. And the farmer's love her. Milkiest girl I've ever met. Tits that rival her belly."

"Farmers?"

"Oh! For when we need to be milked."

This time nothing could hide your expression

"Awww baby. I forgot. You just got in!" She approaches you and pulls you in close. Her belly bump pushing hard into your stomach. Your hands naturally resting on top. "We're breeding cows!"

Your heart shot into your throat hearing those words. Like someone had fingered their way into the centre of your mind, you felt exposed. Of course a part of you signed up because you were a little turned on at having a consequence free pregnancy, but this was more than you could have asked for.

"Its okay, baby. We'll make you feel right at home." She looked you in the eye, softly stroking your face. "Now let's get more comfortable, okay?"

She pulled down her pants. Beneath was a part of jet black underpants which were stretched tight, not only across her wide thighs, but also against the outline of a massive bulge. Your tried desperately to look her in the eye.

"Don't be shy. The clothes are just for Steph. Its too hard being this big in clothes." She said as she tried to pull herself out of her shirt. She gestured for you to help, which you cautiously obligued. She looked at you with now disheveled hair and smiled.

Elyse tucked her fingers under your shirt and pulled it up and over your head. She took a second, grin plastered across her face, admiring your body. "Sometimes I miss being so small." Her eyes jumped back up to yours, emphasising her point. "Sometimes."

"Now." she began. "In your form, you said you wanted a natural insemination. Is that right, darling?"

You nodded, cross-eyed, and mouth slightly open.

She sat you down on the bed before waddling to the room's door. You only just noticed it was wide open. And as she stood to close it another massive, naked woman walked by. She grabbed hold of Elyse's fat package playfully and looked at you. "Oooooo! Fresh meat. Can i join?"

"First time. Don't want to scare her too bad." She replies.

Both looked at you. You couldn't help but feel sheepish at the thought of these two enormous women having their way with you. But you didn't mind. You beckoned her inside with a wave.

The new woman jumped with joy as Elyse closed the door behind her. "You're very lucky. Elyse is my favourite." She says, continuing the play with Elyse's enclosed dick.

The new woman brought you over to Elyse's bed and sat down beside you. She tenderly rested her hand on her face. "Its been a while since I've been with someone so small."

"That's what I said." Elyse replied.

The new woman ran her hands down your face and along your bra strap. She turned to Elyse, "I hope we dont break her."

Your mind race at that though. 'Break me.' you silently begged as you turned to the woman sat beside you. Your thoughts so loud you swear she could hear them.

She smiled as she lugged one leg onto the bed and turned to face you. She grabbed your hand and rested it against her belly. With the other she pulled you in for a deep, tongue filled kiss.

Your heart beat fast in your chest as this kiss became your whole world. And as you lost yourself in pleasure you felt the bed jiggle behind you. Suddenly your bra was unclasped. "She won't be small for long."

Your average breasts were dwarfed by the larger women's. Elyse, behind you, draped her arms over your shoulder and rubbed her face into the nape of your neck. She firmly grasped one of your breasts while planting soft kisses along your jaw.

You gave into them, their hands too much for you to keep up with. You turned to face Elyse, and began to make out with her. Now the new woman held you close. You had never felt this touched before; this pampered. You moaned and groaned with each little touch.

Before you knew it you were laying down across the bed. The new woman awkwardly climbed up and on top of you, sat across your chest. Your slender frame fitting easily between her two emormous thighs. Her well past overdue belly rested on your forehead as she eagerly presented her pussy.

You ate, hungrily, rubbing your tongue firmly against her clit. She wobbled, and you felt her full weight shift as she tried to steady herself.

Her belly and thighs completely blocked your vision. You were flying blind.

Suddenly, you felt two hands part your legs. A soft touch ran its way up the inside of your thigh. You felt your jeans slowly being pulled from your body, your soaking wet panties finally being exposed to the air. Then they went to.

You continued to eat away as you felt something firm press against your pussy lips. You knew it was coming. You tried to beg but your mouth was full. You tried to move closer, but the weight of the new woman pinned you to the bed.

Instead you felt every slow minute of Elyse teasing you with her cock.

Happily she played with your emotions, rubbing her thick bellend against your clit. You writhed with anticipation.

Then she entered you. You had no idea what to expect. You hadn't seen it all, as she pushed deeper, you felt yourself stretch around it. It is absolutely enormous. You kept waiting for it to stop. Deeper and deeper, she pushed until you felt her pelvis touch yours.

You were full.

"Good girl."

All you could hear was the sounds of moaning and slapping, muffled by thick thighs, as you got fucked silly.

Elyse gripped both of your thighs. The woman on top of you tensed up too. You felt your own climax build.

Then she came. Deep inside yourself you felt the pressure of her seed, blocked by her enormous cock. But she kept pumping. Like a balloon you felt full and then inflated. The sensation was enough to tip you over the edge. You screamed into the new woman's pussy, grabbing hold of her fat ass. She screamed back.

As the moment passed, you felt her weight leave your face. She climbed off, leaving you in the recess of the bed your body had made. Shy the odd twitch, you were completely immobile.

You looked down at yourself. Your abdoman had swollen significantly since you'd last seen it. And as Elyse slowly pulled herself free from you, you got to see her dick for the first time. It was huge, thick as your arm and hung down to her knees. Her balls were no smaller, easily the size of two softballs.

The new girl grabbed the pillows from Elyse's bed and laid down beside you. Effortlessly, she dragged you into her arms, wrapping you around her enormous belly. You rested your head against her enormous breast, and quietly played with your hair.

"Was that good, baby girl?" She asked.

You looked up at her with wanting eyes and nodded.

#pregnant captions #fat belly #pregnant #belly kink

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livseses · 5 months

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It baffles me the offense taken at @sophieinwonderland 's plural trinity theory (that many others, including us, have come to independently) because she's checks notes using it to push an agenda.

Like, do y'all not understand how xtianity works? Have y'all listened to a preacher before? Have y'all ever been inside of a church after a big controversy has hit the news and heard a message relating to that from the pulpit?

Most scripture we see quoted is to push an agenda. Most sermons are backed by an agenda. Even earnest spiritual explorations of the Bible are informed by one's preexisting beliefs and biases (and those of the teacher if there is one). It's not wrong to push an agenda through theological interpretation. That's just what theological interpretation is.

The specific agenda may be harmful yes. But the problem is that they're pushing a harmful agenda, not that they're pushing an agenda.

Is it deeply offensive to make jokes/theories about Jesus being ace? Hell we've seen articulate discussions in xtian and ex-xtian circles about if Paul was ace or gay and doing a whole bunch of moralizing to justify his queerness. Would it be wrong to point out to a transphobe that Jesus (only having the XX chromosomes of Mary) would have therefore been either trans or intersex? How about to quote passages that seem to be Jesus specifically preaching that transition is holy?

Shit, when we had aspirations of becoming a pastor we worked on a sermon about how the early church in Acts was straight up communism. We wrote one on that meme where Jesus says "Did i fucking stutter?" We tried to get our church to start a queer ministry program. We tried to build it into a mutual aid org. Cause I'm a queer xtian anarchist and I have an agenda to push.

And I'm predicting a response out there. "Oh Faye! But that's not what social justice preachers or televangelists are doing. They're interpreting the True Word of God and building their agenda from that!" Which would be worthwhile to entertain and discuss. Except that the disdain at God being viewed as an endogenic median system is coming from non-xtians.

And sure, she's an atheist with an ex-christian host. So maybe you can think that it's wrong for her specifically to push an agenda through xtianity. But xtian theology isn't sacrosanct and immune to outside interpretation. It fucking lost that privilege when it forcibly tries to convert half the world. You can't tell someone to stop touching a religion when that religion is being forced on everyone.

Anyone who's fighting Sophie's take on the trinity on the grounds that it's wrong to interpret doctrine to push an agenda is doing christofascist colonialist's work for them. Christofascists are the ones that have a vested interest in xtianity having one true doctrine free of politics or agendas. It's those people that want to say that the xtian Bible simply agrees with their bigotry and any interpretation otherwise is blasphemous and degenerate. They want xtian doctrine to be a settle issue that lands squarely affirming their death cult of heteropatriarchial, xenophobic, antisemitic violence. Not something open for interpretations in ways that further equality or justice (exactly the goal that Sophie clearly states).

-Faye

#faye post #syscourse

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erimeows · 5 months

Text

Snowfall

Winter in Konoha is seldom noticeable, as the village tends to stay warm year-round. This year, however, they’ve been hit with a cold front from the south that has a bitter chill and steady snowfall blowing past Sai. He sits on the railing just outside of his apartment, carefully balanced and staring out at the city so he can replicate the visual of the snow falling onto the villagers on the sketchpad in front of him.

The village is different today. People have hearts and banners with different colors strung all about their homes and businesses, their spirits seem better, and the cafes and restaurants are filled to the brim. Sai isn’t sure what’s going on- a holiday? A festival?

Before he can think about it much more, Sai hears footsteps running up the steps of his apartment complex. He turns to see Sakura and Naruto fast approaching, Sakura with a big gift bag in her hands.

“Sai!” Naruto greets. “Hey, Sai!”

“Naruto, Sakura, what is it?” Sai asks, closing his sketchbook and jumping off of the railing so he can stand in front of his building on his feet.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Sakura grins and holds the gift bag out.

Sai takes the bag, then looks between his two friends, confused.

Valentine’s Day?

“...What?” He mutters.

“What, are you surprised we got you something? Don’t take it the wrong way, y’know,” Naruto huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re just doing it in a friendly way! It’s nothing, y’know, weird.”

“No, it’s not that I’m baffled by. I assumed it was normal to get your friends gifts,” Sai explains. “It’s just… Valentine’s Day? I’m not familiar with it.”

“Wait,” Sakura pauses, her seafoam eyes going wide. “You don’t know what Valentine’s Day is?”

“No. I’m still learning about holidays- we were never allowed to celebrate them in Root,” Sai hums, then sits on the ground and looks through the gift bag. It’s a new sketchbook, which he has tons of, and colored pencils that are far too cheap for him to do any good work with. Still, he knows that there was a lot of thought put into them, so he tries his best not to say anything rude. “I’m not even sure of when my own birthday is. Danzo refused to tell me, as he didn’t want me to celebrate it… They created their best soldiers by ripping away any traces of individuality, so we were all just considered a year older on the first of the calendar year, and were never celebrated.”

“That’s sad,” Naruto frowns. “Why don’t we choose you a birthday date sometime soon?”

“I think I’d like that, but first, educate me about Valentine’s Day.”

“Right,” Sakura nods. “Basically, Valentine’s Day is the day of love! You get gifts for your close friends and family sometimes, but the main point is to get gifts and spend time with your romantic partner- or confess to someone! So, to sum it up, you just express your love for someone.”

“Your love for someone, hm?” Sai hums. He thinks of his captain, Yamato, of Sakura and Naruto, and of the girl he’s developed a ‘crush’ on since meeting her; Ino. Ino seems like the type who would enjoy something like Valentine’s Day… Maybe he could get her something. “Would you two be interested in helping me pick out a romantic gift for someone?”

“Oh, hell yeah, Sai! Put it there,” Naruto exclaims and holds his hand out. Sai simply blinks at the blond, unsure of what to do until he gets an explanation. “I meant, like, for a high five! C’mon.”

“Oh,” Sai reaches forward with his hand and slaps Naruto’s, albeit a bit awkwardly.

When he pulls back, he looks to Sakura.

“I’ll help you pick out something for Ino, but we came and got you so we could go get stuff for Captain Yamato! So, come help us first.”

With that, Naruto and Sakura are dragging Sai by his hands, and though he had planned to spend the day alone, he can’t help but smile at his two friends.

February isn’t a good month for Yamato in the slightest. His joints are worn and painful from the years of strenuous work in Root and Anbu, and the cold weather certainly doesn’t help. On top of that, his jutsu is much easier to use and control during spring and summer- and even fall- so training and going on missions has been more difficult for him.

Thankfully, for the first time in a long time, Yamato has a day off. He sleeps in, lounges around the house, stays in his pajamas, and makes himself a nice cup of hot tea. As he sits on the couch, sipping away to warm his achy body and staring at the falling snow out his window with his cat, Scarecrow, laying across his lap.

Just as he gets comfortable and leans back into the couch, there’s a knock on his door. Scarecrow stands up and runs to the door, letting out a scratchy meow. Yamato goes to open the door. Much to his surprise, the kids of Team Kakashi are there.

“Captain Yamato!” Naruto greets as Scarecrow purrs and rubs up against his legs.

“Oh, Sakura, Naruto, Sai, good morning. Come on in,” Yamato steps aside to allow the three teenagers in before shutting the door behind them. Naruto makes himself comfortable by plopping down on his living room couch, Sai stands stiffly by the window, and Sakura approaches him to push a gift basket into his hands. Yamato holds the basket and looks down at it with a baffled stare. It’s pretty, hand woven and filled with green wrapping paper. “A gift basket? What for?”

“Valentine’s Day! Don’t tell me you don’t know what it is either,” Naruto groans. At that, Yamato glances towards Sai, who seems unbothered. Scarecrow hops onto the windowsill by Sai and rubs up against his hand. “Do we need to explain it to you, too?”

“No, no, I’m fully aware of the concept,” Yamato laughs and sits down next to Naruto on the couch. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and tries to avoid the three sets of prying eyes that are trained on him. “I just forgot it was today. I mean, I don’t usually have anyone to celebrate it with…”

“Really? That’s hard to believe, Captain,” Sakura says with a furrowed brow.

At that, Yamato blinks, surprised.

“You think so?”

“You’re a good guy-” Sakura starts, only for Naruto to interrupt with-

“Even if you are scary-”

“Shut up, Naruto!” Sakura yells, then turns to Yamato as he looks through the big gift basket. It has a bonsai plant, a watering can, some candied walnuts, a big bottle of wine, and what appears to be a handmade scarf. “Anyway… We all just wanted to show you how much we appreciate everything you’ve been doing for us since you’ve been appointed our team captain. We love you a lot.”

“Well… Thank you, guys. I really do appreciate it, and I love you all, too.”

“Yes, of course,” Sakura smiles. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“So? Is there anyone you’d like to celebrate with?” Naruto asks, totally unprompted. “Today may be the day to make your move!”

“Naruto, I don’t really think…” Yamato pauses. There is someone- there’s been someone- and Yamato has loved him for a very long time, but he’s so scared of ruining what they have and getting rejected that he hasn’t dared to fess up. For all he knows, Kakashi could have a date of his own today. “Well, that’s a complicated question with a complicated answer.”

“What!? I was joking!” Naruto exclaims with a red face. Sai watches them all, seemingly amused. “No way, you actually like someone?”

“That is so not your business, you idiot,” Sakura scolds, though she does a poor job of hiding the fact that she wants to know as well when she gives Yamato a questioning sort of glance just seconds later.

“Actually, I’m sort of curious too,” Sai pauses, furrowing his brow as if he’s in deep thought. “If you like this woman, why not get a gift for her? Isn’t that the custom?”

“Well, for one, it’s not a woman,” Yamato clarifies, to which Naruto’s jaw drops. The other two don’t look even remotely surprised, and he isn’t sure how he feels about that. “And honestly, a Valentine’s Day gift could easily be interpreted as a love confession.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Sakura asks. “It’s not healthy to bottle up your feelings.”

“I’m not ‘bottling up my feelings’. I just know better,” Yamato sighs. “Anyway, you kids should go enjoy the rest of your holiday. I’m sure you guys at least have dates. I’ll enjoy today just fine on my own.”

Yamato quickly shoos the group out of his home, but finds himself fully dressed and at Yamanaka Flowers just half an hour later, staring at the bouquets through the glass window. He sees so many flowers that he could easily imagine sitting in a vase in Kakashi’s window, but… He just can’t bring himself to go in and get them.

Meanwhile, Ino Yamanaka stands at the cash register, a big smile on her face as she sees all of the happy couples walking through her shop. She notices Yamato standing outside and longingly peering in, so she rushes to the entrance to catch him before he can psych himself out of coming in (which she’s seen him do a lot of times since he’s been discharged from Anbu).

“Hey, Captain,” Ino grins as she pokes her head out the door of the shop. The brunette looks towards her, his cheeks burning bright red as if he’s embarrassed to have been caught here. “You looking to buy something?

“Er, yes,” The captain answers rather awkwardly, which is nothing new if Sakura’s many stories about him are anything to go by.

“Of course, Captain Yamato, what do you need?” Ino grabs Yamato by the arm and drags him into the shop. “Are you looking for something for your special someone?”

“Precisely. What kind of flowers are appropriate for a, uh… Love confession?”

“Well, let’s see,” With Yamato following close behind, Ino goes to the massive wall of flowers and starts arranging a bouquet in white wrapping paper. “You’re a very direct, straight-forward person, so… I think a simple bouquet of red tulips and pink dahlias will do! The tulips symbolize a declaration of love and the dahlias symbolize gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” Yamato mutters. Though the rest of Kakashi’s team is too dense to figure it out, Ino has seen Kakashi and Yamato around the village many times now. Better yet, she’s seen the way that Yamato looks at Kakashi when they’re together; the blush on his cheeks, the spacey and loving sparkle in his dark eyes, the way he glances away when Kakashi tries to meet his gaze. His crush on Kakashi couldn’t be more obvious, yet the man thinks that no one else knows. It’s a miracle that he’s finally deciding to confess. “Well, I guess that is fitting. Thank you, Ino, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It’s on me today, alright? So don’t worry about paying for it,” Ino says with a wink and clasps Yamato’s hands around the stems of the flowers, then follows up with- “Just be sure to tell Kakashi-Sensei that I said hello!”

“Yes… Thank you.”

Yamato leaves in a hurry, seemingly humiliated at Ino’s little callout. Ino makes a mental note to tell Sakura about this later and scurries back to the register. The rest of the day is busy, but pleasant, with almost all of the flowers getting sold out. The clock hits eight and she gets ready to close, but right as she heads to the door to lock it, Sai swings it wide open and enters the shop with red cheeks.

“Ino?”

“O-Oh, Sai! Hello!” Ino offers a smile, but she can’t help how nervous she becomes. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have a huge crush on Sai- he’s attractive with a unique sense of humor, and unlike Sasuke or any of the others she’s shown interest in before, he’s been nothing but nice to her. So, when he shows up at the flower shop at the last minute with ruffled ebony locks and red cheeks, Ino’s heart starts to race. Briefly, she considers the upsetting possibility that he could be here to get a Valentine’s Day gift for someone else; another girl, even. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, actually,” Sai answers with a nod.

“What are you looking for?”

“I’m not here to buy anything,” Sai responds, shaking his head. He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a jewelry box, which he holds out to Ino. “I’m here to give this to you, beautiful.”

Ino pauses, a nervous laugh falling from in between her lips.

This might be the best Valentine’s Day she’s had yet.

“Aw, really?” Ino questions. She glances up at Sai’s face, and then back down at the box. She opens it to see a beautiful silver necklace with a teardrop-shaped sapphire in the center; her birthstone. Whether Sai knew that or whether it was a lucky guess, Ino isn’t sure. She briefly thinks to ask if Sakura helped Sai pick the piece out before thinking better of it. “You’re so sweet! Let’s go on a date!”

“Wait, what?” Sai blinks.

“Dad,” Ino calls out, turning to where she knows her father is working on cultivating plants in the very back of the shop. She yells at the man over the back counter as she hurriedly clasps her new necklace around her neck. “I’ve gotta go, can you come take over and close?”

“I’ll be there in a second, honey, go on ahead!”

With her work day over, Ino grabs Sai by the hand and drags him out of the shop into the cool evening air.

Kakashi Hatake doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Or, he hasn’t in a long, long time.

He remembers when he was little, he would wake up to a big teddy bear and chocolates on the table beside his tiny bed, left by his father. When he got older and his father passed away, Kushina and Minato were kind enough to let him tag along on their Valentine’s dates- and Rin would shower him with gifts. Now, since all of them have passed, he’s spent every Valentine’s Day alone.

This year, however, he’s ready to move on. Maybe it’s stupid, but he’s developed feelings for Yamato since the younger man was discharged from Anbu. He’s convinced himself for months that it would go terribly if he acted on them, and that it’s not a good time, but when have times ever been good for either of them?

He returns from a mission just past eight and rushes to Yamanaka Flowers right as they’re closing. He sees Inoichi starting to lock the door when he arrives, and thankfully, the man is kind enough to open the door and sell him the last bouquet in the store; some sad, wilting white roses that are in such poor condition that there’s a discount on them.

As pitiful as the poor things are, he figures they’re better than nothing- that and Yamato is so good at caring for plants that he hopes the man will be able to bring them back from the brink.

He takes himself and the bouquet to Yamato’s apartment and stands on the balcony just outside of the man’s sliding glass door. He peers into the kitchen to see Yamato sat at the kitchen table with a bouquet of red tulips and pink dahlias in a glass vase and a pen in his hand. There’s probably five crumpled up pieces of paper on the floor and ten more on the table as Yamato sits there trying to write whatever it is he’s working on. Based on the flowers and the pretty pink envelope, Kakashi can only guess that it’s a love letter. Then, his gaze softens when he notices a ribbon tied around the vase of flowers with a note attached; to Kakashi, it reads.

“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Yamato groans, crumpling up the paper in front of him and tossing it to the floor again. When he glances over to the sliding door, he notices Kakashi through the glass and jumps. “O-Oh, Senpai!”

“Tenzo,” Kakashi greets, quickly sliding the door open. He considers scolding Yamato for leaving it unlocked before thinking better of it. “Good to see you, as always.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Fine, then, Yamato,” Kakashi waltzes in and slides the door closed behind him with the bouquet of white roses still in hand. Immediately, a large black cat with one eye comes and rubs itself against Kakashi’s legs. He bends down just far enough to pet the animal and smiles when they arch their back into Kakashi’s touch. “I didn’t know you had a cat. What’s its name?”

“Uh,” Yamato struggles to get any words out as he rushes to throw all the abandoned letters in his kitchen trash can. The cat leaves Kakashi’s side and paws at a paper ball, which they then proceed to chase and slap around the kitchen floor. “His name’s Scarecrow. He sort of kept breaking in through my window, and he didn’t have a microchip or collar, so I just let him in and kept him.”

“Scarecrow, huh? That’s cute,” Kakashi grins, then, in a moment of bravery, holds the bouquet out to his friend- hopefully future lover. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Sorry it’s not the nicest- by the time I got there, they were closing and Inoichi didn’t have much left except for these.”

“Senpai… You really shouldn’t gift people bouquets like this unless you want them to get the wrong idea,” Yamato says with a sheepish smile as he unwraps the bouquet from the paper and gently places it with the flowers he seems to have bought for Kakashi in the glass vase on the table.

“And what would ‘the wrong idea’ mean?” Kakashi asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Well, you know-” Yamato, seemingly flustered, covers his face with his hands- but Kakashi can see that the tips of his ears are bright red. “If you give people things like this… They might assume that you have feelings for them.”

Kakashi walks up to Yamato and pulls the man’s hands away from his face.

“Well, that would be the right idea.”

“You-” Yamato pauses, his big brown eyes going wide. “Are you messing with me?”

“Not at all,” Kakashi answers, then gestures to the paper-filled trash can, the flowers, and the empty envelope on the kitchen table. “And if this whole mess is anything to go by, I’m assuming you have feelings for me, too?”

“I, uh, yeah. You’d be correct.”

“I’m glad, then.”

Yamato allows his eyes to fall shut and lets out what appears to be a sigh of relief.

“I stopped by the flower shop, too, I just… Was having trouble bringing them to you,” Yamato frowns as he looks at the flowers on the table. “At first, I thought they weren’t enough, so I spent the rest of the day looking for a good gift to go with them, but I couldn’t find anything- and then, I thought I could make something, or write you something, and well… That didn’t work out.”

“Don’t worry about it. The flowers by themselves are perfect. I’m just sad we didn’t do this earlier if we both felt this way,” Kakashi laughs and moves the vase from the table to the window sill so the flowers can sit in sunlight. “I fully expected to come here and for you to Mokuton me out your window in a fit of blinding rage.”

“...Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why else do you think I waited so long? I’m usually not one to beat around the bush, I just… Hated to think about you spending today alone, and I was waiting for the right time, but the right time never came, so why not tell you tonight?”

“Well,” Yamato smiles and walks up to Kakashi. Much to Kakash’s surprise, Yamato wraps his arms around his waist, pulls him into a hug, and rests his forehead on his shoulder. Kakashi isn’t used to being touched like this, so his heart is pounding hard and slow against his chest as he slowly reaches forward to return the hug and hold Yamato close to his body. “Thank you… For saying something. I’m not sure I would’ve ever gathered the courage to. If you hadn’t come, these beautiful flowers would’ve probably stayed on my kitchen table and wilted…”

“I’m just glad you accepted my feelings,” Kakashi pulls back and rests a gloved hand on one of Yamato’s cheeks. “Why don’t we go on a date? Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet.”

“But it’s past nine,” Yamato argues. “As sweet as that is, Senpai, everywhere is going to be closed by now!”

“Ichiraku’s still open.”

“Then, sure. It’ll be my treat.”

“Oh, no,” Kakashi shakes his head and takes Yamato by the hand. “It’ll be mine. Now, let’s go.”

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