#i meant to post this right after prime ended

[glitchedcosmos]

A quiet moment after it all

[riotinyellow]

I'd hate to make two posts about tweets in the same month, but you lot need to see this.

Tommy commented on a video where logan promotes prime during him addressing gaza

Logan responsed

Tommy responded

Tubbo, Ranboo, Rosanna Pansino, James Marriot, and Jack Manifold came to Tommy's defence

Logan responded

I think it's important to note that logan closed his replies and purposefully only left these replies

Tommy responded

The entire mcyt community came to his defence like it's 2020/21 or some shit + jacksfilms and rosanna pansino

Logan ended up misunderstanding tubbo's tweet and liked it, thinking it was in support of him. As shown by tubbo on stream

Logan responded

Logan only left this reply in his closed comment section

Tommy sent the final blow so far

It should be noted that at some point, logan posted these and deleted them right after. No one actually knows what he meant. Whether he meant tommy is fruity or sour

Logan privately reached out to tommy

Jacksfilms compares logan to sssniperwolf and rosanna pansino mentions her experience

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - I - Nightmares

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: "Feyd-Rautha he's psychotic", at least thats what people say. Only, people forgot to add that your father's decided you were to marry. It's been over a decade and Feyd's committed to have the marriage and you with him as he ascends as heir and na-Baron of Geidi Prime.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: abduction, masterbation, voyeurism

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️

“Another one?” Your best friend and fellow Bene Gesserit sister asks as you wake in another cold sweat. Nodding you sit up in bed blinking through the darkness. Leia lights the lamp and a yellow glow shines into both of your faces. The first vision was a decade ago, you had been sleeping under the stars. Pale skin and a bald head. A large brute of a ban killed another. Then there was a boy clearly terrified but shaking with anger too. Black eyes, black teeth, pale skin, a temper. Year after year the visions became angrier, more psychopathic. Handing you materials Leia climbs into bed beside you and you begin your account of the vision.

“Will you tell the reverend mother?” She asks.

“Not yet” you confess ordering your thoughts and placing the coded message on the scroll. Leia watches in silence. This vision was in a black room probably on Geidi Prime. You were asleep on a larger black bed with four posts. You were asleep only to wake up to the black eyes looking down at you. He’d never spoken before but he’d said two words in the strangest grittiest words before. “You’re mine” unlike all the other dreams you felt him in the bed, felt the friction of him coming closer, felt his breath on your skin, the heat coming from his body.

“Are you alright?” Leia asks, handing me a glass of water.

“No” you confess as the two words haunt you. There’ve been all kinds of visions. Brutal murders, sick torture, murderous games with concubines, moments of tyrannical rage and now. Now he’d come for you. Stepping out of the bed you find solace in the coolness of the stone on your feet. Leia follows and you search your things for the herbs that dull your senses. It’s a necessity for sleep and reprieve. Since childhood you’d been careful not to share but as you’ve grown it’s only become clearer and clearer the subject of your dreams. He was tall, strong, angry, well off, psychotic and some would say handsome. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron and your original betrothed.

“What is it?” Leia asks.

“He’s coming for me mother must teach me the way” you say against your training with fear and foreboding.

——-

Feyd’s earliest memories were of you, he’d been with his father on your home planet looking into your cradle. Your mother was beautiful and your father kind. You were peaceful and little and he’d held you in his arms. He felt protective and during the commitment ceremony he’d meant every word. As a second son your world was promised to him. Even as a child the differences between your two cultures were glaring to him. The freedom to play and be a child, the kindness of the people and you was something to look forward to. But then Rabanne had murdered his father, and his mother had been indifferent and after a few years it enraged him to no end. In a fit of anger he’d killed her. Even with all of his concubines he’d never felt as peaceful as he had with you in his arms as a child. He’d stopped a genocide in your home world looking for you only to find your mother’s kind eyes fearing for her life. He’d done right by sending her to a peaceful planet instead of taking her life. He learned you had been taken by the Bene Gesserit sisters which meant you could be anywhere. No matter where,  he intended to find you.His heart felt like a displaced magnet. Angrier still was the fact that he imagined you living a full life without him. Unbothered, not tortured by the distance as he was, happy and serene. Still he could not disclose his search to anyone in fear for your life. He would have to move carefully to keep his commitment to you.

 Another planet, stepping off the ship he’s given respect by the procession awaiting his arrival. His heart races; he knows your close. Sticking earplugs into his ears he applies the fasteners having his guards to the same. No one would use the voice on him today. He moves quickly spilling no blood. He can feel you. He’s getting warmer. He can feel it. Moving quickly he heads down into the belly of the academy moving quickly through the bunkers. His heart pulls as he passes an entryway stopping when he has a familiar sensation. Heart racing violently against his chest he stops Turing to face the steel door, he stops breathing allowing the violence of his heartbeat to reverberate through him like a war drum. Feyd-Rautha signals for his men to wait outside. Using the code scrambler he gets into the door. Hiding you hold your breath ducking down into the thick of your clothes, the sound of the alarms system’s failure are blaring. Fear racks through you as you try to keep calm remembering the Bene Gesserit mantras. Fear is the mind killer. The noise stops and you relax a little waiting for an announcement. Heavy boots hit the floor forcing you to freeze, the steps come closer stopping in front of the closet. Leis screeches and its muffled, trembling you contemplate your next move. The steps come closer and you see the door open, light filters in. You cover your mouth hoping for safety until a black eye meets yours.  Familiarity and horror paralyze you. Pale skin and a bald head. The face from your nightmares. Feed-Rautha Harkonnen. Pinching yourself you discover he’s finally free’d himself from your dreams and is now material. He steps in separating the close from around you leaving you crouched against the wall with no cover before sitting on your bed and watching you like he has all the time in the world.. His smirk is unsettling and it takes a moment before you stand feeling silly and all too vulnerable crouched in the deep closet.

“Get dressed” he croaks but you’re shaking like a leaf. Snarling he procures robes from the closet placing one over your head. The trembling intensifies. And he steps back feeling rejected. Leaving he has his men pack up your things and then there’s a barrage of people asking you all sorts of questions from what you like to wear and eat and do and it’s all so much. You’re loaded onto a Harkonnen ship and placed in a room alone. Looking through the window you gaze into space. When a few hours have passed you hear the door open and know it’s him before it closes. He takes a seat in his leather robes. You turn to face the man who moves like a snake. He’s more terrifying in person than in your dreams. His eyes watch your every move drinking you in. Parting his lips and showing his black teeth.

“Are you comfortable?” His words come as a surprise. It’s the thing you’ve least expected. It takes a moment before you nod, trying not to be rude as you look around the room.

“Yes, thank you” you respond.

“We are heading to my home world. I understand you have different needs. The Mentats are sourcing food and clothes if there’s anything you need let them know” he explains sanely.

“Ok” you respond, your hands begin to shake again. You sit on them trying to hide the true fear you feel. House Harkonnen is known for many atrocities. 

“I’m sorry” you apologize, terrified and embarrassed.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

“A Harkonnen” you confess and his snake-like eyes look displeased.

“Do you know who I am to you?” He asks, forcing you to frown.

“Nothing” you respond only to regret it instantly. Feyd-Rautha takes a breath inflating his chest as he trembles with rage, the paleness of his skin flushing as searing anger bubbles to the forefront. He stands stepping back from you in fear of hurting you.

“My father and yours promised us to each other” his fierce voice cracks as he struggles for control. His terrifying blackened teeth make your eyes shut. He’d done terrible things to people, slight and then slash that's how it went. He was one with his knives and happy to use them. You wait for life to end, your breath to hutch and everything to fade into darkness but it doesn't happen. You hear boots hit the floor three times. Bravery, curiosity? Perhaps it was so quick and painless that this is purgatory? You open your eyes and see Feyd has given you more distance. He’s recalled his anger and he stands stoic, fierce and regal.

“Do you not remember?” He asks because that day had been so monumental to him.

“I had heard heard whispers but …” you trail considering the realities and the odds. Your visions, how you’ve been in hiding. Out of all the things they call him; liar isn’t one of them.You consider the possibilities and it comes to you. Your heart begins to race, you feel stinging in your thumb, like a pinprick. A commitment ceremony was held. The realization is dizzying. “You wish to be married?” You ask and he nods. “To me?” You specify and he nods again. “But I’m nobody from an extinct world. I’m not even a high ranking member of my order” you declare in truth.

“No, you will be na-Baroness Harkonnen” Feyd says, taking a step in your direction. He watches you try to make sense of it. He’d never considered your reaction to being found, he hadn't expected fear or reluctance. He expected your inherent trust in him for you to cling to him for support and comfort as you once did, for you to relish his touch and be most comfortable in his arms.

“na-Baroness” you whisper, looking up at him. Pride fills Feyd at the sound of the words coming from your lips, utter perfection.

“My wife” he rasps and somehow your fear seems unfounded. “I made a vow that I do not intend to break” Feyd says recalling you in his arms as a babe. Your eyes looking up at him without fear in your swaddling helpless, innocent, true and his. A knock at the door causes him to withdraw, he turns standing in front of you. The guard tries looking around to you until Feyd stomps a foot. The man averts his gaze telling Feyd your landing is imminent. Nodding he straightens his gown as he stands tall. Feyd-Rautha holds out a hand. You take it with a deep breath and it seems to amuse him. The heat of him feels familiar. “There will be a crowd, I will send you along in a pod” 

“With who?” You ask standing with him.

“My men” he specifies and it's unsatisfactory. Grabbing your head dress you place it on your head and move forward that way. You hold his hand he secures yours warmly walking at your side. You keep up with him and as the door descends you start to tremble. He stands in front of you as you try to overcome your fear. His eyes are reassuring, his strong hands gripping yours in solidarity. There's no weakness in him. He’s all strength, cunning, volatility, rage and psychopathy. His eyes urge you to get a grip but the roar of the welcome party is unnerving. Your fathers reign ended to a crowd. Soldiers came and there was shouting, there was cheering and you had no time to say goodbye before your mother put you into an escape pod with a scroll. You arrived at an outer planet to find out your father had been beheaded. It’s why you hate crowds to this day.

“Not today” he whispers motioning for someone to come get you. The roaring is violent and you follow them into a pod lighting up at the sight of Leia. The two of you embrace each other warmly. In moments you’ve deemed each other okay. The guards watch the two of you closely. Sitting beside her you take a moment to check the beauty mark on the inside of your thumb. It had been there as long as you could remember. You should be terrified by your current predicament, inadequate training, no  preparation, playing a part of an unsanctioned plot of sisterhood, at the mercy of perhaps the galaxy’s most unbalanced man. But he’d been nothing but reasonable thus far outside of your abduction. 

The cheers from the people are thunderous, they celebrate his return with conviction. Once outside the pods you become acquainted with the sprawling palace halls. Uneasiness fills you and your hand clasps Leia’s for comfort, something your guards eyes settle on. Saying nothing you follow behind him seeing a Mentat among your escort. You’re brought into a grand hall with a stately black stone table. Fresh colourful food is on one side while rare organic meat is on another, the sight of the bloody dishes and iron rich aroma sickens you and Leia.

“I wish to retire, I am exhausted” you declare unable to sit. The silent guard turns to you nodding. He motions for a Mentat to guide you and Leia to your quarters. You're separated from her after a long hug. Your room is far grander than your quarters at the academy. It has a familiar quality of the ones from your home world. The colours are less sterile, the hues less grey. Pulling open the drawers you find lush vibrant fabrics, the sort of robes you remember your mother wearing before the fall of your house. It's a strange thing. Turning you lean against the dresser puzzled by the days events and not nearly as scared as you should be.

Finished and energized by his warm reception Feyd-Rautha heads to the dining hall. He waits against the door when he hears no chatter. Bracing himself for anything he pushes open the doors to find the room empty with the exception of the Mentat and a few guards charged with your care.

“She wished to retire” the Mentat explains.

“Did she eat?” Fey’d asks.

“No” The Mentat responds. Feyd’s mood sours, settling into a rage, if it were anyone else he would have dragged them back out of the room, placed a collar around her neck and forced her to do as he pleased but it wasn't anyone, it was you. 

“Set the table in my quarters” he demands heading into his rooms. Undressing he removes his armour until all he has on are slacks and a tunic. Feyd dismisses his staff sitting at the table and pressing a button. A screen emerges from the wall with a wide panoramic view of your quarters on display. He watches you as he eats, watches you let your hair down from the ornate style of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. He watches the sway of your hips as you go from room to room. He watches you admire the artwork that's been placed there. Feyd-Rautha watches you with pride and admiration, you weren't trying to run as far as he could see. He watches as you return to the sleeping chambers. He feels himself stiffen as he watches you undress, standing he drops the rare meat drawn to the screen with a crooked grin as you make your way to the cleansing chambers. The bounce of your breast, the softness of your skin, everything has him solid as stone. He watches you step in and the misting of water commence, the beads of water glisten on your skin, he zooms in to get a better view of you unguarded. The surprise in your expression as the automatic system goes through the washing ritual.

His thoughts are heinous and depraved, his need for dominance, ownership, acceptance and submission are more than he can take. Releasing his manhood from his plants he begins stroking it roughly. For the first time he doesn’t call his concubines to satisfy him. They would all fail miserably, no one but you would ever again, but this night he would have to do. He needed you so bad he felt desperate. Stroking himself faster he’s practically salivating as the chamber begins drying you, the way your hair blows, the surprise in your eyes, the suppleness of your skin. It takes everything in him to contain his hunger for you, control his passion, his need. He wanted to be inside you marking you, claiming you with his seed. Watching your expressions change as he takes you further and further into the pleasures of passion. You would be his wife soon enough. His hands would never leave your warm flesh. He would keep his manhood sheathed inside you training you well. Coming hard from his own fantasies Fed’s shallow breaths bring him to a stark realization. He would do anything to have you stop trembling at the sight of him, he’d try to be as patient as possible. He needed your submission, your acceptance of him, and he needed it to be real, to want to share his bed. Looking up at the screen he watches you dress in sheer bed robes. Climbing into the large bed he watches you find comfort in it. 

“You’re mine” he says to the screen as a promise.

🖤

Thank you so much for reading 🩶 let me know if you enjoyed, want to be added to the taglist or anything else on your mind 🩶 comment, like & reblog for more Feyd. xx

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22

[urfavlarry]

How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3

The devil with his angel

Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’

a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.

In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.

Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.

The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”

Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.

——————————————————————————

Joost Klein

@joostklein✓

It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.

Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others

user79107 and 568K others commented

bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3

user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND

fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12

——————————————————————————

{your nickname}

@{yourusername} ✓

I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..

You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx

Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others

hihixlovers and 567K others commented

lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr

apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!

——————————————————————————

After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.

You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.

You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”

About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

Hello! You could write with Bumblebee ROTB where he and the reader are good friends and the autobot team receives a threat that includes hurting the reader, Bee becomes alert and watches over her, that with every little thing the reader does he looks at her, or every time For the reader to turn around, Bumblebee looks away because he doesn't want her to know that he is being overprotective of her because they are both good friends.

I saw your post about applications being open :D (Sorry if the wording is wrong, I'm using the translator) have a nice day <3

Protection squad

No need to apologise anon, I think I understand what your asking for so here you go :D. Word count:716

You always looked forward to after school. It always meant that you could hang out with the Autobots. Bee, especially, is super excited for you to burst through the doors. He patiently waits for 3PM to ring. Just like that, he immediately saw you, trying so hard to stay still, he was just so happy to see his bestie after 6 cruel hours.

It had been fairly quiet back at the base of operations, with Optimus keeping an eye on any Decepticon activity, Mirage then heard Bee's engine as you entered the building.

"Sup y/n" He saluted you two from where he sat.

"Hey mirage, What's been happening ??" You said as you got out, Bee transforming back.

"Nothing much, Primes' got his optics locked in tight on some cons that have been getting cozy a little too close" He gestured so and so, You all haven't noticed any form of Decepticon activity ever since the trio crashed onto earth, But Optimus was always way too cautious.

"They do best to stay away, But we're keeping an eye on it" Optimus turned his head briefly to look down and greet you before going back to the screen... A message then popped up on the screen, a voice message, it started to play a little bit crackly before Optimus finally got it stable enough for it to be clear.

"This message is for Optimus Prime... We are aware of your team's location, and your human contact..."

You looked up at the screen when it was said about a human contact, surely it couldn't be you could it... "Who is it ??" Optimus held a hand out to you gently so he could continue listening.

"We are prepared to take action, If you do not surrender yourself. Your human is on the line..." The message ended there.

You and the Autobots looked at each other, Ok you were now fully scared. How did they know of them and you... Optimus frowned slightly, but bee was also very worried.

"How do they know ??" You looked up at them.

"Cons..." Mirage muttered.

"But they couldn't have found you guys already, whoever sent that has to be bluffing... right ??"

"So our enemies are closer than we have had anticipated... we will keep an eye on you and find our intruders, Bumblebee I want you to keep an eye out for y/n" He looked at his commrade.

"Yes sir..." The radio flicked as he made a salute gesture.

Bumblebee was not going to let any con hurt you, no matter what. But along the way you began to notice how protective he was... sometimes even to the extreme, He parked a little closer to the school doors, following you to your weekend job, Hell even when you had to go to the bathroom he got nervous !!

You knew Bee was just trying to look out for you, But you needed to have your space as well. It's also been a couple weeks since the message... But he still hasn't let up. Every time you turned around, he would always distance himself and feign what he was doing. What him ?? He wasn't looking, tapping his digits together and looking away ooh a butterfly.

"Bee I know your looking at me..." You sighed

He whirred a little and turned around a bit more, shuffling and flipping up his doors to shield the sides of his face. "No you don't..."

You frowned a little and gently walked to him, placing a hand gently on his digit. "I know you want to keep me safe buddy... But this... is a little extreme..."

He whirred sadly, He just wanted to keep you safe, he didn't want to let any Decepticon hurt you... He didn't want to lose the one thing that helped him with his time on earth, He was doing it cause you were his best friend.

"I know..." You reached up to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him, nice and tight. "But I'll be ok... I promise" You gently placed your hand on his cheek as he leaned into the touch. "Keep... you... safe" the radio flicked as he happily nuzzled his free cheek against yours.

Bee will keep you safe for as long as he lived, always.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[eashgirl]

If anyone remembers that one episode from season nine where Peri got Mrs crocker for a godchild(slight spoilers for a new wish and Peri's relationship with Dev)

She was depressed because she felt like Crocker didn't love her back,and she tried to use wish after wish to quell that emptiness,leaving Peri so exhausted because no matter how many wishes he tried to grant she never seemed to get happy

It got so bad from what I remember they tried all ways to get her to break the rules just so Peri would be free from her,she only truly lost him when she reconciled with Crocker who admitted he did indeed love her

I can't help but compare this to Peri's new godkid in ANW, Dev tried to do something similar,all he ever wanted was to have his dad's love which he never got because Dale literally cares more about money and his literal boots more than him,hence similarly no matter how many wishes he kept asking for hardly any of them were able to geniunely make him happy beyond the surface level, I'd argue the only times he was truly happy was when he and Hazel were friends but that's for another post.

Peri did try his best to adhere to the rules and to grant his wishes,but this in turn just made Dev get even more frustrated because in all fairness he doesn't really NEED a fairy to give him little things like a cupcake or something like a game he's rich he can get an AU pair to bring him that anytime,and the more riskier wishes that can be deemed as more fun is against the rules. Heck I'd even argue that initially Dev may not have seen Peri as anything besides an AU Pair but with magic given that he only really used him to make wishes. Dale probably just told him to ask the au pairs anything he wanted as a means of neglecting his own parental responsibilities. That and Peri wanting to do his absolute best at his first job to impress his parents and stick by the rules along with Dev's frustration and lashing out is the core reason why it fell apart so quickly.

This difference in opinion led to all of this, they're both at fault and both have legitimate reasons for it,Peri had the excuse that this really is his first job he's just doing what he was taught at the academy just grant the kid's wishes and make them happy,he probably did not anticipate the need for severe emotional understanding when it comes to troubled kids(honestly who decided to give a newbie a kid that needed way more help from a seasoned fairy godparent though? I blame whoever made that decision)he did care about Dev in the end but by that time it was too late.

With Dev it's he's a hurt kid and he lashes out at others which I'm not trying to justify it's still wrong,and people can get hurt because of that but given his circumstances I really understand him, he's not used to allowing people in and builds walls around himself even the slightest gesture is enough to make him to increase his guard even more like when he thought a single argument with Hazel meant their friendship was over and tried to go back to being his old self until Hazel pointed that out to him,the sunglasses being a literal metaphor for it,he takes them off a lot during his friendship arc with Hazel and starts putting them on all the time near the end during his downward spiral. He acts the persona of a bully as a means of gaining control of his situation,when it's obvious that is not how he truly is lost and founders day being a prime example,he was genuinely getting better until he found out about project H,and I can understand his reaction his dad who's always absent,hardly ever pays any attention to him literally won't look him in the eye unless it concerns bussiness,cares more about his son's friend then he cares about his own son,did Hazel deserve to get yelled at though?no she didn't, it's still not her fault.

Then immediately after Hazel leaves Peri comes back and tries a feeble attempt to cheer him up by persuading him to make a wish,which really wasn't the right call to make in that specific moment which further aggravates Dev into telling him to leave before having a mental breakdown.

And later in best of luck he ends up getting in a vulnerable position when Peri declares he's quitting,and Irep ends up being a bad influence,he gets manipulated and tries to take over fairy world as a desperate means of getting Dale to finally, finally pay some attention to him which he does initially until he immediately shifts his focus to Irep instead. Literally leaving Dev in the dust on the ground. Alone again.

(I really want to make this post a bit more detailed but I'm six days away from an exam so I can't find the time,any grammar mistakes is because of how rushed this one was might edit it later)

Cosmo phrases it best what he wanted was something no fairy could ever give him,he wanted a parent's love and that is something no amount of wealth or magic is ever going to amount to,which is ultimately the final straw in making Dev abandon everything and accept the consequences without any persistence.

Peri couldn't really relate to or understand Dev because he always had the love or his parents even when he was anxious of messing up they were always supportive and loving, I don't think it's a coincidence that the panel always shows the three of them hugging infront of Dev and Hazel the latter trying to talk to him after everything that transpired. A physical metaphor of what he doesn't have and has to see Infront of his eyes all the time. Again I don't really blame anybody(except maybe Dale but if I'm blaming Dale I'm also blaming Vicky),Peri is a rookie he just graduated so it's unrealistic to expect him to be the best right away, I actually think he might need to ask Wanda and Cosmo for advice in season two how they dealt with certain kids and how he can improve himself.

Because neither Dev or Peri were perfect they were horrible to eachother,but that doesn't mean they can't be better.

It's clearly setting up an overarching story, I actually have faith in the new writers they didn't throw in that scene of Peri saying he cared about Dev and leaving it ambiguous whether or not Dev actually still remembers because of that one theory for nothing.

My reason for bringing in Mrs Crocker is to point out that the only way Dev can really quell his own emptiness is by attaining the love he always wanted, I think by off chance he does indeed remember everything- which I believe is the better option to retain his charecter development-,he may have finally come to understand that no matter what he does his dad would never care about him the same way he cares about his Business and himself,maybe this will lead to him forming better connections with other people, reconciling his friendship with Hazel and befriending Winn and Jasmine and maybe even getting Peri back as his fairy.

Another reason slightly crack that inspired me to make this post is this

This is Peri's eventual state/reaction every time he gets a godchild, boy's been bad at this from the very beginning it's that and simultaneously always gets a hard case on his first try

[pastelwoolfie]

raise your hand if you like old man yaoi!! ✋✋✋

good GOD i love optiratch like hrrrrgrgrgrgrggg I LOVE THEM🫶🫶🫶

(it’s headcannon timeeee)

ratchet (the ookiest pookie) was born to be a medic, right? cybertronians have different frame types, we know this, there’s grounders, seekers, racers, two-wheelers, war frames, etc etc we know this!! i like to think that a bot can be born in a medic frame - that means more dexterous/nimble and sensitive servos, sharper optics, additional system processings/knowledge retention capacity to account for All That Knowledge they need to know to be a medic. a bot born to be a medic is a bot known to be a medic, which ratchet was. he was born a medic and became a phenomenal one. that doesn’t mean non-medic frames can’t be medics, though! knockout was born a racer, but he became a physician. medic-borns can also be really really bad doctors!

more about ratchet though. this post is about ratchet.

born to be a medic, he went to medical school. as one does. and fresh out of school, just starting up his work, BOOM there’s a war. obviously this doesn’t take him by surprise - his college roommate was an activist-slash-archivist-slash-his-crush-slash-protestor, renown Good Guy orion pax. he was literally there when he became a prime!! he had met megatron, awesome gladiator extraordinaire, and was all ‘oh he’s so violent’!! already being close with optimus meant he was immediately enlisted to the autobot cause. he was so ready to join the autobot cause. in fact, it was his joining the autobot cause that convinced many others to join. do-gooder, no-nonsense medic ratchet, top-of-his-class, kind-sparked ratchet wants to join the autobots? oh, good golly!! i should join him too!! if he’s an autobot, the cause must be worthwhile, right?

ratchet never got to experience that normal childhood most cybertronians have. he was medic-born, after all. he was raised with that always in mind, that pressure of healing others always there, and he simply grew into it.

thats why he’s so lost after the war’s end. it is literally almost all he knows - and the parts of his life that weren’t seeped in war and revolution and politics (he hates politics so much, but he was unfortunately involved in them) he spent training to be a doctor, surrounded by illness and injury.

ratchet does not know how to relax. he just doesn’t get it.

yap sesh over 👍

[hermitessun]

[trigger warning in advance]

More of a scrap post -

one thing I’ve noticed significantly with rohini placements, or should I say partly since this obviously won’t apply to everyone:

rohini natives’ proneness to get into sex scandals of some kind.

here’s examples:

the left picture depicts Karima El Mahroug, also known by the stage name Ruby Rubacuori (Italian for "Ruby the Heartstealer"). In 2011, Karima was involved in a sex scandal with Silvio Berlusconi. Silvio Berlusconi, former Prime Minister of Italy, was accused and initially convicted of paying then 17 year old Moroccan Karima El Mahroug for sexual services.

born in Morocco, her birth time unfortunately isn’t precise, however there is a very high chance Karima is a rohini moon.

on the right, we see Algerian Zahia Dehar. In 2009, Zahia, who was then 16 or 17, was allegedly paid for sex with Karim Benzema, who was a player on the France national football team. This became part of one of the biggest sex scandals to ever hit French sport. Despite her best efforts, Zahia Dehar is still best known in France as a footballer's birthday present.

Zahia’s exact birth time isn’t available either, however it is safe to say that she was most likely a rohini ascendant.

these two women really exemplify life through the lens of rohini. this post is by no means meant to glorify their scandals and struggles with the male world, far from that: It is undeniable that the rohini essence leaves its mark on the female native in one way or the other and these two women really showcase that.

both have in common, that they drew in powerful men through their uninhibited sexuality, as the sex appeal both Karima and Zahia share to this very day is simply unarguable. Berlusconi, as controversial as he may have been, was a PRIME MINISTER after all in all his glory and money. Karim Benzema is a notorious, wealthy footballer.

it is these very sensitive, explicit scandals that have opened a door for them. if we take a look at Karima (rohini moon) now, she is happily married with one daughter, looks amazing and is living an extravagant life with her Italian husband as seen in her Instagram posts, while still maintaining a low profile. Zahia (rohini ascendant) established her very own lingerie line, commanded attention in the French fashion industry and made a debut in the French acting department as well.

Rohini is multifaceted, part of rohini natives is their coquetry and their strong link/tie to the opposite sex and sensuality (think, marilyn monroe for example).

As discussed above it can be quite common for rohinis to end up in sticky situations with the public eye, if you catch my drift. while it doesn’t necessarily need to be a blatant sex scandal, it can also be in form of frequent sexualisation, a tainted reputation or defamation of some sort through kinswomen and other envious girls.

truth is wherever life takes a rohini native, she will always benefit in one way or the other and it will most likely be through her beauty and sex appeal.

Of course there is much more to rohini than this

[jolenes-doppelganger]

uuhhhhmm hi!! i was wondering if you’d be up to write a (smutty?) story about rose the hat!!! nothing specific but (i assume) you kind of know how rose is… and maybe incorporate that in the fic? and the whole steam thingy? yeah…

anyway! have a great day!!

[Hi! Thank you for the request! I really leaned into her more sinister qualities that were explored in the book, specifically her fascination with blood. She is a dark character, so this fic is reasonably dark. ]

The Debt

Rose the Hat x f!Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: Returning to the windy city was always a trip Rose dreaded. Not for the drab blocks of concrete, but for the memories that lingered. A child she’d let get away, a meal that had escaped her. The cost of that lapse. What happens when the familiarity of the city converges with the familiarity of a touch?

Warnings: Dark themes (threat of bodily harm, threat of murder, depictions of post-murder situations, etc), graphic sex (oral R receiving and giving, 69, penetration via fingers R receiving, breast worship giving, near smothering of R, light spanking receiving, blood kink, brief bondage, biting), !! Dub-con/coercion !! [Moments of straight M/F interaction between Rose and Crow, allude to nudity, brief touching, but not any more graphic than the novel itself described these interactions.]

A/N: Once again, this fic is not indicative of my moral code, I would NEVER condone someone pursuing a similar relationship, especially if the themes of dub-con/coercion are in any ways similar or amplified. *To be reasonably true to the characterization of Rose is to understand that she is an evil person and wouldn't show up to your door with a bouquet of flowers and a home-cooked meal.*

Word Count: 3.669k (hehe 69)

Rose hated Chicago. Chicago meant traffic, smog, disorder and weird looks. Traditional caravans sailed right by the town, so driving through it with the True Knot's troop of motorhomes would be both a nightmare coordination-wise, most certainly drawing unnecessary attention. The Knot camped out in a trailer park, using cars to drive into the city while a few stayed back to ensure the safety of their caravan; prime members slept in hotels in the city. Rose and Crow were assigned to a suite, sharing a King bed and a bathroom. Sleeping in a hotel meant access to a shower and larger amenities, but the wide open spaces bothered Rose. She preferred the coziness of her Earth Cruiser over the opportunity to shower at any given moment.

"Rosie, whatcha got on your mind?" Crow asked, chest bare, lounging in the bed after their coital affair.

Rose snorted, tits out and unashamed. Her hat was set off to the side, hair tousled from their passion.

"I hate Chicago, that's what's on my mind."

Her lover nodded, trying to remain considerate, but he was really focusing on the curve of her breasts.

"It's temporary. We'll get the kid by the end of the week. And in the meantime..." he smirked, reaching to bring her in closer.

Rose rolled her eyes, playfully swatting away his advances.

"As if you were hard again." she protested.

"What if I was?"

Rose reached down. He was flaccid, predictably so. They hadn't fed in a while. He was like any man in his mid-50s, capable of lasting one round, needing a little blue pill to sustain an erection for longer than a few minutes.

"We need to eat." Rose grimaced.

She got up from the bed, walking into the large shower. She was tired. One look at herself in the mirror and Rose saw just how weak she was getting. They needed that kid. Her crow's feet were growing more pronounced, her belly sagged, so did her breasts. Cellulite littered her thighs, and her upper chest had that ugly scaly look that developed in older people exposed to the sun. It was unbearable. She turned the light off and showered in the dark.

<------------->

It was done. The little girl with the braided pig tails was limp in front of Rose; the child's body had given up. Normally she'd be feeling extra frisky right now, leaning into Crow's advances as he felt her up under her bloody shirt, but she just felt hollow. Giving out cleanup duty was easy. Crow pressed on the child's chest, pushing the last bit of steam into the metal cannister. Rose cut off the friendship bracelet the child had on, tying it around the cannister. Crow sensed something was off, and he followed her into the Earth Cruiser. She put the cannister away, looking up at him with vacant eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Rose walked into the bathroom, using the reserve water to fill the sink, stripping her clothes off as she washed away the blood.

"The kid. The one we lost ten years ago."

Crow sighed.

"The one that disappeared after we followed her into Joliet?"

Rose nodded, lost in her own thoughts.

"I want to borrow your truck, head into the town. I need a night for myself."

Crow frowned. Rose only ever went out alone in dire circumstances. She was upset, and it perturbed him.

"That can wait 'till morning, let's spend tonight-"

"No." she cut him off. "You have a hallway pass, go fuck someone else tonight."

Now Crow knew something was off. Rose was possessive, unreasonably so. If he so much as looked at another woman, he'd hear about it eventually. But offering a hallway pass unprompted? Something was up.

"Rosie, stop. We're going to talk about this." Crow planted his hands on his hips.

"No, we're not."

Rose pulled on a fresh pair of clothes, jeans and a sweater. The topper came with her, obviously. Crow attempted to block her as she left, but he was only a few inches taller than her. With the top hat she had the odd ability of appearing a head taller than everyone atop of her 6' frame.

"Move."

Rose exited the cruiser, Crow's keys in hand. She jumped into the vehicle, speeding out of the campsite. She had one destination in mind, one person in mind.

"Alright you little snot." Rose fumed, focusing her attention on an energy signal she'd been trying to pinpoint for the last decade. "You want to play games? Don't you know what you cost me?"

For the first time in decades, Rose was speeding. The True Knot never violated traffic laws. It drew attention, but in Rose's current state of mind, pushing 80 on the highway was the only reasonable balm to her anxiety. Through the midst of her anger-fueled aggression, she felt it. A little sensation, a prick of energy so damn familiar it made her stomach flop. She slowed down, pulling into the far right lane, focusing her energy on that little bubble of energy.

"Oh honey, you're still here, huh?" Rose whispered. "(Reader) was your name, wasn't it? But that's not what we called you, little minx. You're a Pandora's box."

Rose drove through the suburbs of Joliet, drawing closer and closer, running Crow's gas tank down to the last quarter. It didn't matter, she was close. The little buzzing in her head continued, until finally it was unbearable. Rose grinned, pulling off to the side of the road in front of a cute little red brick house. She didn't do anything, not yet at least. Instead, Rose adjusted the rings and bangles on her left hand. Left for receiving, various 'lucky' charms she'd collected. The right hand she kept bare. It was her dominant hand, she liked it bare. That and it was the 'giving' hand. She didn't need any sort of energetic enhancements, more likely hindrances upon her.

"You're alone in that little house, Pandora." she smirked.

Creeping toward that house like a wanted visitor, Rose waved to a few neighbors who were walking about. The only malicious element that could even tickle the minds of observers was that hat. Tipped at that weird angle, barely hanging onto the crown of her head, like a poorly perched bird. Rose reached for the knocker; she didn't need to try the doorbell to know it was broken. A soft click as the door opened.

"Well, hi there." Rose smiled.

You didn't have time to fasten the dead bolt before she'd forced herself in, towering over you and pinning you against the nearest flat surface.

<------------->

She'd tied you up. The deranged woman with the most certainly semi-cognizant hat had tied you up on your childhood bed.

"Who the fuck do you-"

"Shut up." Rose demanded, slapping her hand over your mouth. "You're gonna listen, you're gonna stay quiet, and if you scream I will sew your mouth shut."

She moved around the room, closing the curtains, locking and barricading the door. Nothing was going to interrupt this, no one was going to stop her from getting that revenge she'd been dreaming of for a little over a decade.

"Three True died because of you." Rose sighed, settling on the bed in front of you. "They starved. We were all starving, but they couldn't hold off. And you? Look at you." she snorted. "What are you, a teenager? No, you might even be in your twenties. I've forgotten how old you were when we were tracking you."

The heinous monologue ended there. Rose pulled out a pocket knife, focusing on digging out the dried blood she hadn't gotten out underneath her nails.

"Are you a cannibal?" you asked, quiet.

Rose snorted.

"I mean, sort of. We don't eat flesh, but we eat. And you... God, you would have been tasty. Now you're grown up. Age ruins all the goodness of steam, it spoils, tastes rotten."

You swallowed, staring up at the woman with the knife.

"So by not being able to find and eat some part of me... People died."

"Not people, dear. True Knot, my family. The most important people alive."

Rose's personal fable was inherently narcissistic, unyieldingly ignorant of the world around her.

"So you're better than me because you eat... Kids?"

Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing your face.

"I'm better than you because I'll live for centuries. The oldest of us have seen empires rise and fall, we've seen society advance, society crumble, all of it." she whispered. "We are the chosen few, the best. You're... A rube. A stupid, forgettable little tick."

She seemed awfully presumptuous, you thought. But your small judgements were out of place with the extreme fear that clouded most of your higher processing abilities. The animal brain was clawing out from it's cage, and you knew that this meant the odd things would start happening. Ever since you were a kid, it had been the same. You were normal, happy, unbothered, and then once someone put you in a corner, it was like something out of a paranormal movie. The ropes at your wrists got loose. Then the ropes at your feet. They were spinning out, moving with every rapid beat of your heart. But your telepathy was no match for Rose's abilities.

Blinding white pain filled your head as Rose pressed two of her fingers into your left temple. Hands reaching up inside your head, hands clawing and tugging at the animal bit of your brain, shoving it down, pinning it into a corner. It was brutal, and it left you groaning from pain.

"Naughty little thing. But talented, so talented. Telepathy? At your age? God you would have been tasty. Maybe you still are..."

In your state of wooziness caused from Rose's rape-like invasion of your head, you hadn't noticed her reaching for the pin off of her hat. And then that pin was being pressed through the flesh of your clavicle, hitting the hollow skin there. It stung, badly. With a horrid scream, vapor sprung from your lungs. The woman inhaled it readily, her eyes flashing bright blue. And then she sputtered. She removed the pin, coughing and hacking violently.

"You taste... Disgusting." she winced, her face screwed up in disgust.

Blood trickled down from the wound on your collarbone.

"God I need to get that taste out of my mouth, it's like spoiled milk." Rose complained, looking around the room for something to rinse out her mouth with.

Her choices were scarce. Half-stale soda, water, (which wouldn't do a damn thing), or... Now that would do.

"Mnm." Rose smiled, licking the blood from your clavicle away.

Her tongue was revoltingly wet, and it stung where she licked you. Rose's face was screwed up in a light smirk, watching with interest as your body reacted against your ever-rational mind. Her tongue was soothing, and there was a degree of sensuality to her movements, the way she leaned down, rolling her tongue slowly over the wound. She was straddling you, a hand on your shoulder, the other behind your neck. And the tongue continued to work, the papillae of her tongue drawing a light friction over the wound. It was... Arousing.

"Did I tell you that you could touch me?" Rose smirked.

Your hands were resting on her back, drawing unconscious patterns.

"... No."

Rose chuckled at this, nipping lightly at your neck.

"You're enjoying this... Twisted little girl."

The bite went straight downwards, causing your pelvic floor to clench involuntarily.

"I'm not. Well, I am, not because I want to-"

Rose's lips crashed against yours, tongue immediately pressing through your lips as you gasped. Claiming, tasting, exploring. She coaxed your tongue out slowly, her hand cradling your head, massaging gently.

"Give me your tongue." a voice sounded in your head.

It was feminine. You obeyed, sticking it out. Rose's lips enveloped the muscle, sucking wetly. The result was immediate. Your hips twitched, your core clenched, and you let out a desperate moan into her mouth. Rose let out a low hum of approval, continuing to suck your tongue in and out of her lips, imitating oral sex. The suggestion was arousing, and when you pulled away, the look on her face said it all. Rose was pleased. She knew she was sexy, she knew what she was doing was hot, and the fact that you were confused, horny and scared, all against your will, it only served to pad her ego.

"Poor thing... Are you worked up?" Rose crooned, stroking your sides. "Tell you what... I'll make it better, but then afterward you and I are going to brainstorm a way to work off your debt."

Your words caught in your throat. You didn't want to owe her anything, that would be very bad, but you had a feeling that it wouldn't matter what you decided. She'd laugh if you told her you didn't want to fuck her, and probably fuck you anyways. But then again, to make the best out of a bad situation... Who would blame you?

"Mhm, you'll come around." Rose hummed, licking a stripe up your neck. "And it will be reaaaaal good."

Your hands were resting on her back again. She didn't scold you this time. She took the topper off, setting it to the side. Her hair was a little frizzy, but it really didn't matter. She looked like a fallen goddess either way. Her hands reached for the hem of her sweater, pulling it off. Pert, large breasts jiggled with the movement, unencumbered by a bra or other garment. You wondered why you hadn't noticed it before. Rose wondered why she was wasting her best window of performance on a rube.

"You like what you see? Oh I know you do." Rose smiled, resting her elbows on either side of her face. "Kiss them. Give them the attention they deserve."

You obliged, angling your head up to kiss one of her nipples. Tentatively at first, and then a little surer. Rose pulled down your bottom lip, silently beckoning you to open your mouth. She pressed her nipple into your mouth, sighing in delight as you obediently swirled your tongue around the areola.

"Beautiful. A little suction, not too much, I'm not a cow." Rose sighed.

Adding increasing levels of suction, you stopped when Rose let out a low moan, her hips bucking against your stomach. You alternated swirling your tongue and sucking, drawing the sweet noises from Rose's mouth.

"The other side now, my other girl is feeling left out." Rose breathily gasped.

As you swirled and sucked the other nipple, she reached up to pinch the previously worshipped breast. Her hips twitched erratically, and judging by the increasing frequency of her little gasps and moans, she was getting more aroused. Finally she pulled back, her nipple sliding out of your mouth with a wet plop. Rose pulled at her jeans, sliding them down her knees and onto the floor in one swift motion. Whether she took off her panties at the same time or was never wearing any, you couldn't be sure.

"Stay put." Rose ordered.

You leaned back against the bed. She put a knee on either side of your face, lowering herself as she spread her labia open. The sight was both daunting and arousing, her inflamed clit pulsing angrily amidst the pink strip of her inner labia. You opened your mouth as she lowered her entrance over your mouth.

"Lick." she breathily moaned.

You licked a stripe up from entrance to clit, tasting her for the first time. It wasn't anything pungent or otherwise remarkable, but it was good. She fisted her hands in your hair as she rocked against your tongue, pushing her clit into your nose.

"Stick your tongue in, fuck me with your tongue." Rose rasped.

Obeying, you punched your tongue in and out of her hole, catching her secretions with your tongue. Rose moaned emphatically, continuing to grind her clit over your nose.

"That's it, just like that..." Rose praised. "Pull me against you."

Grabbing her thighs for support, you pressed her down into your mouth, alternating between licking stripes up her labia and fucking her with your tongue. Her moans grew louder and more emphatic, pressing her clit into your nose until your nostrils closed, preventing your ability to breathe. She worked faster against you, riding your face with reckless abandon, either unaware or unconcerned with your lack of air. In a last ditch effort to prevent suffocation, you pistoned your tongue in and out of her earnestly until she let out a howl of pleasure, squeezing her thighs over your face.

...

"Hey, wake up!" a voice echoed, muffled and unclear.

A sharp sensation, someone shaking you. Things came into clarity, bit by bit. Rose was over you, shaking you and slapping your face. She came into focus slowly, her face flushed.

"Fucking finally." she swore.

Arms pulled you up, stripping you of the sweaty shirt that clung to your breasts. You weren't wearing a bra, who could blame you? It was midnight on a fucking Tuesday. Or Wednesday, you guessed.

"Are you awake now? I'm not done with you."

You frowned, still adjusting to being awake after nearly suffocating to death between the woman's thighs.

"Naughty thing. Lay over my lap, I'll get you awake again."

You groggily obeyed, breathing steadily. Rose's hands caressed your back gently, pulling your pajama bottoms down. You were still uncomfortable, although your arousal had significantly dulled following you passing out. Her hand caressed your panty clad bottom, squeezing and pulling the flesh expertly. You let out a soft hum of contentment.

"Wouldn't have been a bad way to go, you know." Rose teased, continuing to knead your buttcheeks.

You gave an unconvinced hum in response. Rose let out a low chuckle, giving you a playful smack on the rear.

"Let's try this again. This time you can be on top, huh?"

Rose helped you up, after taking off your panties of course. She laid upon the bed, and you moved to straddle her face.

"Nuh uh. Turn around, the other way."

You obeyed, facing her legs.

"Now lean down. Hold my legs open, that's right, princess."

Princess. The name felt more intimate than the other titles she had given you, most were insulting. You found yourself looking forward to tasting her again. Her clit still remained engorged, and you busied yourself with licking at it as Rose drew her hands back and forth over your thighs.

"Pretty pussy you've got." she crooned.

A sharp bite to your inner thigh. It shocked and aroused you, and your core clenched involuntarily. Rose gave a low chuckle at the sight.

"Is she this wet for me?" Rose cooed. "Might need to have a taste."

Her tongue parted your labia, circling your entrance. Your hips bucked into her mouth, and she smacked your butt in jest.

"Naughty."

To make up for your unintentional disobedience, you leaned down, spreading her labia and exposing her engorged clit to your tongue. You circled it a few times before pulling the hood back, sucking softly. Rose's reaction was immediate. She groaned, kneading your thighs tenderly.

"Mhm. Good girl."

Her tongue returned to your entrance, licking lazily, occasionally rolling over your clit. Enough to stimulate, not enough to really please. It was infuriating, but you doubled your attentions in the hopes she would reward you. Taking her clit in your mouth, you sucked it, drawing it back and forth between your lips like she had done earlier with your tongue. Rose moaned, letting out a few words that you didn't understand, a foreign tongue. Then her mouth was at your clit, her tongue drawing steady circles over the nerve. You felt her thighs clenching, and you held them open as she reacted accordingly. Her mouth abandoned your clit, and she moaned out, her hips thrusting against your mouth. Then her mouth was sucking violently against you, two fingers roughly penetrating you. But just as her orgasm subsided, just as a familiar clenching began in your abdomen, she pulled away.

"No!" you whined.

A harsh smack cracked over your ass.

"Shut it."

She pushed you to the side, sitting up. She used your shirt to wipe the mess off her face.

"If you want to come, you'll crawl over here and ride my fingers."

Much to your utter dismay, (and deep humiliation), you saw the truth in her eyes. Crawling into her lap like a discarded puppy, you winced as the pushed two of her fingers into you once more. But that was were her roughness ended. A hand encircled her waist while her thumb rolled gentle circles over your clit.

"Put your arms around my shoulders, princess."

The soft praise and gentler look returned to her eyes. She smiled softly at your obedience, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck.

"You've been good... I suppose I should reward you."

Her fingers moved gently in and out of you while her thumb moved in that soft pattern. It was good, a gentle stimulation to push you up to a gentle climax. You had the feeling that if she wanted you to squeal in pleasure, she'd do so, but this was an allotment, not a reward. Her kisses on your neck turned into soft, tender bites, matching her tone. A slow build up to climax began, and you wrapped your arms tighter around her.

"I.. I'm gonna-"

"-I know you are. Now moan my name, 'Rose'."

You felt your lower muscles slowly starting to clench, and you let out a soft whimper.

"Rose!" you obeyed, feeling your pelvic floor clench and unclench erratically.

It was fulfilling, but not by much. In truth, you'd been most stimulated when you were pleasing her, a truth that made you aware of a darker truth. Rose was toying with you. She wiped her hand off nonchalantly, putting her hat back on. With that one action, she went from uncommitted lover to sinister debt-collector.

"Now. About that debt."

<------------>

A/N: This is really just a one-shot, I don't see a part two or continuation, but I would be more than happy to write a similar story or use a similar template to create a series. Feedback is always welcome. :)

[paravillintiniay]

I don’t have any mutuals on twitter who really care about The Penguin and we all know twitter is terrible for getting your posts to the people who want to see them so I’m gonna talk about The Penguin over here because omgggg episode 4 is crazy!!! Spoilers for The Penguin up to episode 4 under the cut!!

Okay so not to be an Oswald apologist because let’s get this straight with the context that I’m first and foremost a Sofia falcone truther BUT.

I really don’t think Oz meant for any of that to happen to Sofia. Oz probably couldn’t have known the full extent of what Carmine did to those women since he’s just Sofia’s driver and I don’t believe Sofia shared any of her suspicions about her mom with Oz, so I think Oz was afraid that when Carmine inevitably caught wind of what Sofia was toying with that he’d end up taking the fall for her and his head would be on the chopping block. Think about it, what was Carmine going to do? Kill his daughter that he loves? That he wants to take over the family business? No. But she could be punished, her driver is pretty expendable.

Oz tried to talk to her in the car and she basically told him to shut up and know his place because he’s just her driver which I think hurt his ego and that also contributes to why he told Carmine. He seems to have thought they were friends or at the very least that she respected him. I think after she refused to listen he got scared and went into cockroach survival mode which is a pretty consistent character trait from him throughout the reevesverse (and really all Oswald cobblepots)

I think it’s also fairly telling that he didn’t sign any of the papers calling her insane despite being around her CONSTANTLY and being a prime witness. He should have stuck his neck out and vouched for her but how could he? He sees what Carmine is framing her for, how ruthless he’s being to his own daughter? No. If there’s one thing about Oz it’s that he’s a survivor.

Now this absolutely doesn’t excuse what he did to Sofia in the present day, he’s a pussy for that how do you fumble a bad bitch like that!!

Also while we’re at it I do want to expand more on the cockroach survival mode thing Oz seems to do because I find it reallllly interesting!! I’m not entirely sure everything he does is manipulation (some of it obviously is, like playing both sides with the falcones and maronis) but instead I think it’s like a knee jerk reaction/compulsion. Like how in episode 3 Oz is very friendly with Victor and tells him he shouldn’t be ashamed to take up space! His disability doesn’t mean it’s okay for people to put him down! Paying him well and trusting him! And then immediately when he feels threatened and afraid he might lose Victor as a trusted employee he throws it all back in his face and hits him where it hurts saying exaaaactly the right things to make him feel small? I think he does this almost instinctively without thinking it through, which I really do find interesting about him and I haven’t seen anyone else talk about so maybe I’m reading too much into it idk. Maybe I’m reading too much into all of this. I just like to think about my favorite shows and characters a lot!!

If you see this and read this I’d looooove to know your thoughts and theories too!!!

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part seven)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.7k summary: due to an unexpected visit, you're forced to tackle a certain situation head on. maybe now you can get some answers from the rockstar that broke your heart — or maybe your family will just annoy you about it.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / a little comfort, minor use of pet names, tiny bit of fluff, familial drama — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

There is an infamous estate in East Hampton that’s been key to many conversations between your family members.

Grey Gardens was four acres of oceanfront land. 

The prime location had been prone to controversy right from the very beginning, or more accurately, since 1901. Controversies involving the women that owned the estate. Women not so dissimilar to your own grandmother, such as Margaret Bagg Phillips who was challenged for ownership of the land after the passing of her husband — (his brother suspected that she cremated him so that an autopsy couldn’t be performed). 

More notably though, Grey Gardens had at one point been home to Edith Ewing Bouvier Beale, and her daughter, Little Edie. 

Your Nana would often use Big Edie’s martial fall out as an example to never trust a man’s intentions. She’d also use the Beale’s widely publicised story as a warning. People will judge you, especially if your name is already known to some.

Despite the gossip associated with Grey Gardens, the reason for its frequent mention at your family’s dinner table wasn’t because of the vast size of the property, its architectural style, or design. And it wasn’t the scandalous story, or the association with being a recluse. No. For your family, the name signalled an escape. A white flag, of sorts, to end the standoff between two or more people because the talks were going in circles. The mention of Grey Gardens was to allow for reflection since seeing someone else’s point of view, in the heat of the moment, was not easy.

A white flag you were now waving.

“Eddie came to see you?” Val asks in disbelief while she carefully sets a bowl of mashed potatoes down on its designated spot at the family dinner table.

“Grey Gardens,” you mutter, not interested in getting into this conversation.

Unfortunately, your younger sister ignores you, along with the meaning that your family has given to the East Hampton acres of land. She proceeds to press on the matter, rather indelicately, because she’s always been nosy when it comes to your celebrity skin — not out of jealousy, you knew that much, just morbid curiosity, as she’d always say. Normally you don’t mind it. Hers is the only attention you give into because she’s always been your number one fan. This whole situation with Eddie however, well, that you didn’t want to get into. It’s the reason you stayed hidden in your apartment for all those weeks following the breakup.

So you made a promise with yourself: no one has to know that the Corroded Coffin frontman showed up at your door the other night. And by no one, you meant your own family and close circle, since you already told Steve and Eddie’s undoubtedly gone to visit his sister. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, three days with no hitch. Saturday… Well, the tabloids had to go and ruin that day for you and put a hink in your plan to keep this situation underwraps. EDDIE MUNSON SPOTTED IN NEW YORK: the Rockstar plus the Big Apple, it can only mean one thing.

People aren’t stupid. They picked up on the hidden meaning immediately. Understood the illusion presented to them by second-rate journalists who were dreaming of writing about things that matter, but are instead stuck working on puff pieces about people five-times more famous than they’ll ever be. So the gossip train took off. Eddie Munson was in New York City to see you. This time, of course, that was true, but you hated that other people knew about it. Most importantly, you hated that your family knew.

“Did he say why he came?” Val is relentless.

Tension is building up your back, to your shoulder blades. You crack your neck. You’ve never been one to go against family, but you’re maybe about one question away from telling Val to fuck off. Jesus. The intention behind the thought disappears from your mind just as fast as it initially crept up. It would be redundant. She’d just call for mom, the peacemaker. 

And speaking of mom…

“Valentine, can you please gather your siblings? Dinner will be ready in five minutes and I’m pretty sure Jonah is knee-deep in Play-Doh, while Amelia will take about twenty to put down the phone.” 

She always walks into the room like she’s in a rush for something, despite never having anywhere to go outside of school pickups and grocery runs. Yet there’s an elegance there, thought by your Nana, and an aura of warmth and a certain poise that you’ve envied since you were a little girl. An aura that can’t be mimicked or copied. You’ve tried.

“Your sister is going to help me out here,” your mom adds before Val can argue, “The green beans need to be finished, and I need someone to check on the pie because I have to handle the steaks.”

You’re grateful for the distraction, following your mom into the kitchen. The sizzle coming from the oil is soothing, like white noise. You stand in the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to close your eyes, listening to the hissing as you take in the surrounding smells. Solace. Although it’s brief because your mom is calling your name and she’s again in a rush, opening the oven quite harshly and telling you to look at the pie.

“Where’s dad?” You wonder while doing what she’s requested you to do. The pie is burned at the top, but you don’t tell her, taking it out instead and setting it aside to cool. The oven is off before she even gets a chance to ask what it looks like.

“He’ll be back soon,” she answers simply, “Went to pick up Caroline and your Nana.”

You nod and move onto finishing the green beans before your mom can implore you to do so. She starts whistling. The same tune she always does when cooking — your first number one song. It makes you smile. She’s always told you how proud she was, both of your parents did. Their beautiful girl, their second daughter, grew up to become bigger than the world. That’s plenty of reason for pride. You start to hum along.

For the next ten minutes, five longer than what your mom said dinner would take, you forget all about Eddie Munson showing up at your apartment door. 

-

The banging continues. Eddie's calling your name through the wood that’s separating your two bodies, desperate for your attention. It’s almost like a plea, but that would mean he’s remorseful of something, and if you know Eddie at all — which you think you do — he’s not the remorseful type, considering how often he fucks up.

With a trembling hand, you slide the chain onto the lock and slowly open the door, peeking at the rockstar from between the created gap. Eddie is quick to readjust his position, leaning forward against the frame, so that he can see you better in the dim light of your apartment.

“How did you get past the doorman?”

“I uh… I told him I was your boyfriend.”

You can’t help but scoff. His answer angers you. Enough to want to shut the door back in his face, which you’re about to do when Eddie places his hand between the crack, preventing you from doing anything.

“Just hear me out.”

“Please leave.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No,” you snap, “You… you don’t get to call me that.”

Eddie sighs while dropping his hand, though he doesn’t move much further and his persistence makes it hard for you to just leave him there, sulking in your hallway. 

Motherfucker. 

Despite the resentment you currently feel, and despite not really wanting to talk to him, you briefly close the door to unlatch the chain, then open it again before stepping to the side, allowing him to enter the confines of your apartment because a) you’re an idiot, and b) you’re a stupid fucking idiot.

The rockstar lingers for a moment, glancing between you and the inside of your home, and you think he must be unsure about your sudden change of heart. Frankly, you’re unsure too since you did your best to get over him — a lot of that effort to no avail. You’re mainly unsure though, ‘cause once he steps through the threshold, it will be a lot harder to kick him out.

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask, breaking the rather heavy silence, but you don’t wait for him to answer. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some water.”

Eddie nods at your words, slowly, and you leave him there, lingering by the open door before he finally takes that step forward. You disappear into the kitchen under the pretext of hydration, when you’re alone, however, instead of reaching for two glasses, you lean against your fridge as the tears breach through the corners of your eyes. The stone-like facade you put up just moments prior has disappeared the second you allowed yourself to breathe.

Every inch of you is against indulging the Corroded Coffin frontman in whatever conversation he hopes to have with you, hence why you shut the door in his face in the first place. He broke you, a sentence you repeated to yourself like a mantra while spending hours on end in bed instead of living your luxurious life. You’re dreaming of Grey Gardens. The escape that it provides. The white flag you wish to wave in means of avoidance because avoidance is always easier than working through feelings, especially since you’ve been down this road before with Eddie and he just doesn’t seem to change.

Then there’s that voice of reason, closely resembling your mom, telling you that Eddie did come to New York and of all people, he chose to see you. Despite everything that’s happened, despite knowing he most likely wouldn’t be greeted kindly, he still came to see you. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Wrong, considering the timing of his arrival is shortly after your not-so-fake date with one of his closest friends as so carefully planned by Max; who was counting on this very reaction from her brother. She prepared you for it, so you knew damn well that whatever conversation you’re about to have would be far from productive, since, you suspect, this is the reason he’s in the Big Apple to begin with.

And while you’re in the kitchen trying to regain control of your nerves, Eddie is also going crazy.

He didn’t really come here with a clear mission. Honestly, calling Marianne to charter a jet last minute was a pure knee jerk reaction after reading that spread on you and his so called friend, Steve. A night out on the town, featuring his best girl and someone he thought was a best friend. The photo of the two of you was cosy, too close for comfort and too much for poor ol’ Eddie. He wondered how the two of you met. He wondered what you talked about on this date. Did either of you mention his name? 

Then the questions took a turn for slightly more perverse considering your history. 

Did you do more than just hold hands, as depicted in the photo? He wondered if you, as the tens of girls in Hawkins, also thought Harrington was a good kisser. Was he better than Eddie? Did you enjoy kissing him? Fuck— Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. The feeling made him sick. 

That’s when Eddie knew, despite all perceived consequences, he needed to see you.

Your apartment was exactly like he imagined it to be. Big and bright. Eclectic, but with classy furniture that unsurprisingly looked more expensive than anything he’s ever owned. It was carefully arranged to maximise the space and make it look more inviting. 

There was a display of various awards on top of the marble fireplace, most notably a Grammy. Eddie smiles at the statue, then continues to glance around your living room. A gallery wall catches his attention, so he stops his small, self-guided tour in front of it. The photos vary from your magazine covers, to childhood memories. In the middle, there’s a picture of your family and although Eddie’s never met anyone aside from your evil grandmother, from your stories, he knows exactly who everyone is — your parents, Alicia and Brad, with their four daughters, Caroline, Valentine, Amelia, and you, plus the youngest boy, Jonah — and he can’t help but wonder if you told them anything about him. 

He suspects the answer is yes, since why else would you disappear for a few months to Los Angeles, only to come back heartbroken. So the brunette rockstar hates himself even more for putting you in that situation in the first place. He wishes more than anything that he could explain, but the grisly threats made by the very person that’s sitting right in the middle of the family picture, ring in his ears.

That’s how you find him. Staring blankly at the photo frames ahead.

-

Everyone settles at the table, taking their assigned seats, like it’s always been. Mom on one end of the wooden piece of furniture, your dad on the other. The sides see your Nana sitting in between you and your older sister Caroline who’s partner, Jackie, usually takes today’s empty spot. Across sits Valentine, Amelia, and little boy Jonah, who’s always closest to your mom, otherwise he throws a fit.

Nana initiates prayer. Your family has never been overly religious, if at all, but you do believe in thanking whatever higher power may exist for the blessings you’ve each encountered in life: your parents meeting each other when they did and starting the beautiful family your Nana is constantly praying for, Caroline for graduating at the top of her class in medical school and most recently starting her surgical residency at John Hopkins Hospital, Val for her spot at NYU and Amelia for her spot at the top of the cheer pyramid (a sure scholarship ride, when the time comes), and lastly you, for everything that made you. Jonah is the only one that has no idea what’s going on. He’s just happy to see food. 

The potatoes are passed clockwise. That’s when the chaos slowly begins to unfold. 

“Guess who came to see our star,” Val teases. She means no harm, but you just have this feeling that there’s no way this could end well.

“Who?” Caroline asks, focused more on plating her dinner than on actually getting an answer. She’s just being polite, as always. Unwilling to leave her sister hanging.

“A certain dark-haired rockstar.”

“Val—”

But your attempt at a protest is quickly interrupted.

“Oh for the love of everything good,” your Nana exhales rather loudly, “What does that boy want with you now? I thought you left that fiasco behind in Los Angeles, where it belongs.”

“It’s not like I invited him over,” you state, “He just… appeared.” Not entirely a lie because they don’t have to know that the last date you were seen on was carefully orchestrated to get under the rockstar's skin, which is why he came.

“I for one like the thought of you and that boy together,” your mom says, knife cutting into her piece of steak, “There’s something very kind about his face, and you know what I always say about kindness.”

“At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters when it comes to love,” you chime in unison with each of your sisters.

“Exactly.”

“This isn’t about love.” The tone of your Nana’s voice is urging close to displeasement. You look at her, but she’s focused on her plate. If you knew any better, you’d say she was avoiding your gaze. Almost as if she was hiding something.

But you quickly brush the thought away before it can grow into something more. Whatever her stance on the rockstar, and she’s made it very clear on numerous occasions that she wasn’t Eddie’s biggest fan, your Nana was often a lot of talk and little follow through. She didn’t like to get her hands dirty, unless there was a clear benefit to her, or someone in the family. And there was no winning for anyone when it came to the whole situation with Eddie.

“Eddie’s cute,” Amelia says sweetly, taking a forkful of green beans into her mouth. “Like a sexy sort of cute. That bad boy look is definitely working for him.”

“I don’t see it.” Caroline shrugs.

“That’s ‘cause you’re into chicks, not dicks.” Val points out.

“Valentine.” Your dad’s first words around the dinner table are always spoken to reprimand someone else. A man of a few expressions, is what you often described him as. Holly thought it was insanely hot which always grossed you out.

Val clears her throat, understanding that she’s crossed a line with that rather cheeky comment, but she doesn’t apologise. Instead she continues with questions to the initial subject she raised — Eddie coming to see you.

“Did you let him in?” She probes, “Did you guys talk?”

-

Eddie does turn his head as soon as you walk back into the room, sensing your presence like he usually does. He tries to smile, though his mouth refuses cooperation with his brain and instead pursues his lips into a lopsided line, somewhat reminiscent of what he was trying to achieve, but not quite. Not really.

Avoiding more eye contact than absolutely necessary, you place the two glasses of water on the coffee table before standing on the other side of it. Ensuring ample space between you and the Corroded Coffin frontman. A necessary precaution considering how fast you tend to give into his mahogany-coloured eyes.

“Talk.”

It’s simple. Right now, that’s all you can muster.

Eddie clears his throat. Right now, that’s all he can muster.

In the few minutes of rather unbearable silence that follow, you’re forced to come to terms with the fact that Grey Gardens is most definitely not an option. Eddie is actually here, in your living room, for one reason or another, which is another reminder of how the two of you ended up like this in the first place: “I think we made a mistake,” he says a little too bluntly. “I-I don’t think we should have labelled this so soon, and ehm… This is nothing on you, sweetheart. I’m just not the relationship type.”

“Eddie, talk.” You say with a little more conviction. “Because you begged me for a chance to hear you out just mere minutes ago, and now you’re as silent as the dead, so I’m a little confused and getting even more peeved off.”

“Okay,” he breathes finally, “Okay, uhm.”

Running a hand through his crazy locks, Eddie glances briefly at the golden award on your chimney, before settling his gaze on you.

“I-I saw the pictures of you and Steve.” A statement that surprisingly isn’t fueled by anger, or the jealousy he was for sure feeling, but rather by a sadness that he only blamed himself for.

“Right…”

“How did you two meet?”

“At Saks,” you answer, intentionally leaving out the young redhead that was also present, “We bumped into each other and kind of hit it off.”

“Did he say he knew me?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking him all those questions, Eddie? I’ve got nothing to explain to you since we’re no longer together, you made that very clear,” you state. “If it bothers you so much that I was seen out with Steve, then ask the guy that’s supposedly your friend.”

There’s a twinge of guilt that oozes through your veins because if it wasn’t for your agreement to Max’s little plan, you wouldn’t have to witness Eddie’s desperation. And even though you try to remind yourself how hurting the brunette man back is exactly why you agreed to the stupid date in the first place, seeing Eddie’s melancholy expression makes you think it wasn’t really worth it.

“Look, I-I—” You’re about to give in, explain the situation in hopes he’d simply let it go and leave you be. Leave you to finally move on since, at the end of the day, that’s what you really wanted, no, needed to do. 

The phone rings. Interrupting your train of thought along with the conversation. When you answer and it’s Steve, calling to check in since you never called him back, like you promised you would, the guilt bubble bursts and bleeds.

“Eddie’s here,” you simply state into the receiver, your back now to the Corroded Coffin frontman as he continues to stare at your frame. 

“Oh,” Steve sighs, “Do you need me to come over? Diffuse the situation?”

Even though Harrington can’t see you, you shake your head. “No, that’s okay. I’m okay,” you affirm and for the first time that night, smile. Albeit slightly. “Thank you anyway, and ehm, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Deal.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

When you shift in your spot to once again look at Eddie, his expression is no longer one of dejection. Instead it’s replaced by the look you knew you were bound to be at the receiving end of at some point during this night — resentment.

“So you call each other goodnight after just one date, huh?”

Bitter, the tone of his voice. Like a child at a playground who was forced to share his favourite toy. It causes you to roll your eyes ‘cause you’re once again reminded of the person everyone warned you Eddie is: a self-serving asshole. And to say you weren’t expecting a drop of the broken facade at some point would be a lie. 

“It’s really nothing to you,” you state back, crossing your arms under your bust, no longer wanting to explain how this all came about. “Now, if all you came here for is to question me about my date, I guess you can leave ‘cause I’ve got nothing else to tell you, Eddie. It’s frankly none of your business and I once again remind, that you made sure of that.”

Eddie scoffs, but doesn’t say anything else, not even a stupid goodbye, or see you around. He simply brushes past you and slams the front door shut. Leaving you all alone with your thoughts, yet again.

The sudden silence is overbearing.

You think of Grey Gardens. Inside, a dust-covered grand piano. Untouched and unplayed for many years. You think of the songs that never made it past the first key, wasted because of the hosts decision to lock all doors. Self-preservation. Recluse, like Val recently called you.

And a recluse is the last thing you want to be again.

-

Jonah is making a mess. He’s playing with his dinner, potatoes everywhere but the places they’re supposed to be. Your mom is trying to calm him down. Unfortunately the further she bargains for peace, the more excited he gets. He’s laughing now. Clearly enjoying himself, along with the attention he’s getting.

Mom’s voice is calm while she repeats his name. Amelia can be heard from the kitchen, screeching that your brother got his dinner all over her new jeans and the stain won’t come out. Caroline is shouting back from her seat, giving your youngest sister cleaning tips she’s picked up at the hospital. Your Nana and Val have gotten into an argument over the parenting style you were all raised with (Valentine protecting your mom, while your Nana remains ever the scrutinizer).

You’re grateful that for a few minutes, everyone is focused on your brother.

Then Jonah starts crying. It’s gotten too loud for his tiny ears. He’s no longer enjoying the minor disruption he’s caused, he just doesn’t know how to apologise for it, so he opts to let the floodgates open. Watching him, you think how lucky it must be to just cry when things get tough. How freeing it must be to not keep shit in until it gets too much.

When his screams get louder, your mom glances at your dad, who understands without a single spoken word that he can no longer just observe. So your dad stands. He walks around the table until he’s by Jonah’s chair, lifting him up in one swift movement.

“It’s alright, my man.”

With that, they’re gone. The cries soon fade. When Amelia sits back down, a wet patch on her jeans, it’s quiet around the table again. Your mom asks for the empty plates, a smile on her face as if the last ten minutes didn’t just flutter her completely. One by one they’re passed to her without a word. When she stands, Caroline follows by picking up the bowls with leftover mash and beans.

“So are you gonna see him again?” Amelia asks. Continuing the previous topic because if she’s engaged in conversation, then mom won’t ask for her help.

“Who?”

“Eddie, you dingus.”

You grimace. “I don’t know.”

That apparently was not the right answer because your Nana jumps back in with nothing but judgement in her tone of voice.

“Honey, do you really want to put yourself through more heartbreak?” She queries, “Because I’ve told you before that boys like that don’t change their ways.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really know if they change or not, since I wasn’t exactly privy to the circumstances surrounding the demise of my and Eddie’s relationship in the first place.” You don’t mean to snap, but that’s exactly what happens. “Now, does the concept of Grey Gardens not apply anymore, because if so, I must’ve missed that family meeting.”

You walk away from the table next. Sick of answering questions. Sick of this conversation. Sure, this was your family, but there were things you wanted to keep private. Especially things relating to Eddie since you were still only trying to figure everything out yourself. 

The conversation with Eddie didn’t amount to much. Without allowing yourself to second guess the feeling in your gut, you rushed after the rockstar the night he walked out of your apartment. There was a lot going through your mind, but one thing was a little more clear, he wasn’t going to win. Eddie Munson was not going to be the one to play victim in this situation since he’s the person that’s caused this crazy domino effect. He won’t turn you into a fucking recluse again.

Unfortunately he’s gone by the time you make it to the lobby. You don’t get a chance to confront him then and you haven’t heard from him since. You’re not even sure if he’s still in New York — a feeling creeping through you screams that he is, but you can’t be sure.

The line rings once, twice. Then a jovial voice picks up.

“Mayfield residence.”

You clear your throat. “Hey, Max, it’s uh… it’s me.”

“My favourite popstar,” Red cheers, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is Eddie there? Or do you maybe know what hotel he’s staying at?”

When Max doesn’t immediately answer, you think you fucked up by calling. Dumb idea, dumb idea, dumb, dumb, dumb. Sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, you proceed to chew on it nervously, about to tell her to forget you asked, forget you called. But then a voice flows through the receiver and it doesn’t belong to Max.

“Heard you’re looking for me, sweetheart.”

Eddie.

“Have you ever been to Coney Island?”

-

The Wonder Wheel was an attraction to hundreds, if not thousands, locals and tourists. A glistening staple of the peninsular neighbourhood. You could never hope to see it during the day anymore. Not since your fame skyrocketed, now on par with the amusement park. At night however, when the sun went down and the workers finished their shifts, well, that was a different story.

The watch strapped to your wrist displayed two in the morning as you walked towards the metal gate with a rather hesitant Eddie by your side. He’s unsure why you called, unsure of why you invited him out here after making it pretty clear the other night that you didn’t want to talk to him. What changed?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tony was the security guard, about four years shy of retirement. Working the Wheel grounds since he was a kid, following his dad who’d done the job before. A true New York family affair. You befriended him a long time ago now. 

“I thought I’d seen the last of you, kid.”

“Back to my roots now. It’s nice to hear I’ve been missed,” you say as Tony opens the gate for you without question. 

“One hour,” the older man states, like he’s done many times before, only briefly glancing back at the rockstar that’s accompanying you. Thankfully, he chooses not to comment.

“One hour,” you repeat with a nod and a smile.

Underneath the Wonder Wheel is where you hope to find some peace in this whole situation. Eddie’s still hesitant, and a little confused, especially when you lay flat on your back on the dirty ground to stare upon the metalworks of the world famous attraction. He doesn’t question you though, just accepts that to continue any sort of conversation, he’s going to have to join you.

There’s a half-a-beat of silence. Just the wind, the water, and some crickets. You exhale slowly, eyes closed momentarily because this was one of your safe spaces and now you might’ve ruined it by bringing your ex.

A sigh escapes your lips.

“Eddie, why did you really come to New York?” You ask without looking at him.

When the rockstar doesn’t immediately answer, a glimmer of hope for what you two lost, oozes through you. It’s foolish, yes, you know that. Your Nana would even call you stupid for holding onto something — someone — that has hurt you repeatedly. Matter of fact, she damn nearly has earlier this evening. But it’s Eddie, you tell yourself. He’s charming, but not in a try-hard way. The charm comes naturally to him. He’s funny. He’s wicked smart. And underneath that cold-ish exterior, he’s unbelievably kind (as your mom suspected). You learned this about him. Which is why it hurt so much when he ended things so casually. It seemed uncharacteristic to the Eddie Munson you’ve gotten to know, and possibly even love.

He seemingly came to ask about your date with Steve, as his little sister predicted he would. Just like she planned for. At first, you thought that too ‘cause what other reason would there be to bring him all the way out here after months of no contact. What other reason, except for just seeing you.

“I think I told you once that wherever I go, solo or with the band, I never really set foot outside of whatever hotel they have me staying in, or whatever studio I have scheduled interviews and press in, venture from whatever show I have.”

“Your exact words were: they keep me prisoner,” you say through a smile.

Eddie laughs briefly at the memory. “Well, sweetheart, it’s true. Fame overall in a way is like a prison. Do you ever feel that way?”

“That’s one way to not answer my question,” you tease, nudging his side slightly. “But I guess, yeah. Can’t go anywhere without Hank out of fear some randomer will come up to me with ill intentions, or I’ll end up in the papers again and my ex-whatever will fly across the country to confront me about it.”

You look at him then, a smile circling your lips. Eddie does the same. His brown eyes scan your own for a moment, contemplating the comment you just made.

“We kinda get what we signed up for though, no?” You add. “Seems ungrateful to complain.”

Eddie nods. He licks his lips before looking back up at the sky above, spotty between the metal of the wheel, but beautiful nonetheless. Different from Los Angeles. Different from Hawkins. Reminiscent of the people he’s met here. Reminiscent of you which makes it perhaps the most perfect night sky he’s ever seen.

“I came ‘cause I wanted to see you.”

He exhales.

“When everything went down… I thought I was doing the right thing, sweetheart. I thought I was protecting you from the hell I know dating me can become,” Eddie explains, “I know that’s not an excuse and if it was, it’d be a fucking lame one, but people that are close to me get hurt. That’s just the honest truth.”

“People like Chrissy Cunningham.”

Eddie’s head snaps back in your direction. He’s shocked, that’s for sure. How do you know that name? Did Steve tell you? Surely not without giving Eddie a heads up first. That’s the least Harrington could do after going on a very public date with his ex-girlfriend.

Quick to notice his surprise at the mention of Chrissy’s name, you realise the only way to get the truth, is to be honest yourself.

“Eddie, there’s something you should know about my first run-in with Steve.”

“Did he tell you about Chrissy?” The question is quiet, almost as if the rockstar is afraid to ask it. He’s clearly nervous and it goes well beyond you just knowing about Chrissy.

“Max told me.”

“What?”

You sigh, glancing back up at the metal and sky above.

“She was with Steve that day at Saks. We, uh, we didn’t really talk then. We didn’t even introduce ourselves ‘cause I was with Val who was trying on dresses for this event,” you tell him, then quickly look at him again.

“Max left a note with Hank. It was her address, she wanted to meet me.”

“You met with my sister? I was just with her. Why didn’t she tell me that?”

“I guess maybe she wanted me to be the one to tell you, I don’t know.” You shrug before continuing, “Eddie, she told me how you were seemingly crazy about me, so to her, it didn’t make sense that you suddenly weren’t. All she really wanted was to get your attention, get you to talk to her at least.” 

You pause. “Don’t be mad at her please.”

“Why would I be mad at her?”

“Because she’s the one who organised that date with Steve,” you answer. “It was fake, Eds. All for show, to get under your skin.”

He stares at you. Blinking as the information settles. Betrayal isn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe what he was now feeling. Lord knows he deserved it ‘cause there’s no denying he’d been acting like a complete prick towards everyone around him, including little Red who he’s supposed to always be honest with.

So the date was fake. That gave Eddie some solace. You weren’t really going to start dating one of his closest friends, even if the friend in question is calling you goodnight after said fake date. Then again, that’s just Steve the King Harrington, always the gentleman.

One thing remained unanswered, however. How much do you know of Chrissy?

“I’m not mad,” Eddie says eventually. “It actually makes a lot more sense now. Steve’s a good guy.”

“Not the type of guy to go out with his friends' ex,” you tease lightly.

The brunette smirks. “Still a dickhead.”

That makes you laugh. And as the sound settles, a sound Eddie would only describe as angelic, it makes the brunette rockstar smile a little wider. He didn’t think he’d ever be so lucky to hear your laughter again. He especially didn’t think he'd be the one to make you spur the emotion, not after what he’s done and how he’s treated you. But here the two of you are. Your laughter has faded, but the smile on your face remains.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not mad I went on a date with that dickhead,” you say honestly.

“Tsk. I’m not mad at Red,” he clarifies with a smug smile, “Never said anything about you, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “May I remind you that you have lost all right to be mad at me for seeing other people when you’re the one that ended things?”

It’s meant to come off lighthearted, but you can’t hide the hurt behind your words. There’s a pain there. One that you’ve forgotten about for the last twenty-or-so minutes because things are easy with Eddie. They align. The imperfect dots that represent your life are pulled together by an invisible string when the rockstar’s around. He somehow manages to make you feel normal and you live to experience a level of normalcy. Even if he hurt you. Twice.

“Tell me about Chrissy,” you change the subject. Steer your thoughts in a different direction.

Eddie avoids eye contact. He lifts one of his arms, flicking the piece of metal and listening to it echo in the night. A lame effort to buy some time before answering you because now that his initial fear of someone else telling you about Chrissy has been squashed by your not-so-simple request, he needs to figure out a way to avoid answering. The threat your grandmother has made at that godforsaken party remains fresh in the rockstars mind: “And Eddie,” she continues, “I wouldn’t tell her about this conversation, and I also wouldn’t be so brave to tell her about Chrissy yourself, because with a snap of my finger, the whole world will know. Then you gotta ask yourself, what’s more important? Your happiness, her happiness, or the careers you both worked extremely hard for.”

He swallows his breath before glancing back at you once again.

“There’s nothing to say.”

It’s simple. Can be perceived as vague ‘cause someone is avoiding the answer, but Eddie hopes you’ll just take it as him not wanting to talk about an ex-girlfriend. Not that Chrissy was his ex, but you didn’t really know that.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” he lies.

-

There are clear moments that define a person's life and they’re not as basic as one would believe: first words, steps, tantrums, day of school, first friends, first fallouts, fight, crush, kiss, first anything — the list goes on, and on, and on. No. These definitive moments are a lot more hazy. Often remain unclear until you find yourself in therapy, spewing your feelings to someone who’s paid to listen, or when you’re black-out drunk and what’s bothering you deep inside is now between you and some stranger you just met in a nightclub bathroom.

Your list of moments is short and yet, somehow, it features Eddie’s name multiple times. In any other reality, that would be almost poetic. As if some higher power considered the two of you to be bound together. In this reality however, it was almost cruel. You had built a life bigger than you ever dreamed possible, and yet your existence is defined by the rockstar. 

Almost cruel.

“There’s a place in the Hamptons. Grey Gardens it’s called. I like to walk by it whenever I’m in the area, which in recent years obviously isn’t often, but still… There’s a certain solace about the property and despite its rather barmy history, my family uses Grey Gardens as a way to move past certain topics without a larger fight.”

The sand beneath you is coarse yet soft at the same time. You run your fingers through it, feeling every individual granule, while your gaze is fixated on the dark waters ahead. Eddie watches you. His arm is pressed against yours. He’s got no idea what you’re talking about, but he’s hooked on every word. As always.

“When you showed up at my door the other night, Grey Gardens is what I thought of,” you admit, “Truth be told, as angry as I was at you for breaking up with me like that, when I saw you, the last thing I wanted was any sort of confrontation.”

“I didn’t come here to argue,” Eddie clarifies.

“I know, Eds.”

There’s a brief moment of silence during which you wrap your arms around your knees and tilt your head to look at him, offering the rockstar a small smile.

“I believe you came ‘cause you regret your decision.”

Eddie looks away, bottom lip now between his teeth. He does so because you’re right, but unfortunately he can’t admit that out loud. He can’t say anything that’s on his mind because he’s aware of the wider implications to both of your careers.

“So, what happens now?” The rockstar asks, only slightly afraid of the answer.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86

[under-lore]

About "Tweets aren't canon"

One misconception that one seems to be nearly guaranteed to see brought up by someone whenever discussing Undertale/Deltarune lore with people who are not particularly invested in it is that "Toby Fox said tweets weren't canon".

And, when you first hear it, it actually sounds quite convincing, because this tweet is in fact real and does seem to say that.

So... What's actually going on here with tweets and with this one in particular ?

The actual status of tweets

Before mentioning what's really going on with that specific tweet, i'd like to lay some groundwork first.

For instance, regarding the fact that this tweet dates back from November 2016. And that if the tweet were to be taken seriously, it would mean that no tweets especially after that date are to be treated as canon.

Something that is rather explicitely not the case.

There are several examples for this, although the Gaster tweets which introduced us to Deltarune and directly link up to the game's "Goner Maker" introduction sequence are i would say prime offenders.

Here in these tweets, we are not yet connected, then we are given a way to connect.

Then, we pick this back up where we left it in Deltarune, where we are then asked wether the connection was a success.

This has of course been pointed out to Toby (although he never responded to those messages), and yet it did not prevent him from re-doing the exact same thing a few years later for chapter 2.

In short, the situation is that, to this day, Toby Fox still purposely uses tweets in order to provide important canon-accurate information about his games, with the Spamton Q&A as recently as last year.

In light of that, using that one tweet to say that any information coming from tweets is invalid just can't be right... So one might wonder :

But then, why did Toby say that ?

The problem comes from the fact that this quote is usually cropped like this when people try to share it around :

Which is greatly misleading !

Obviously, Toby Fox's popularity comes mainly from Undertale and later Deltarune. Due to this, and due to the majority of the fandom nowadays being teenagers, many in the fandom are not aware that ever since his own teenage years, Toby Fox has been for the lack of a better term, a massive shitposter. A habit that only started to die out after Undertale's release and in the year that followed. (Though he still shows glimpses of it from time to time)

I mean, we are talking about the person who kept on posting memes on twitter for nearly a decade and who made "a goast poot on u" at the end of the Earthbound Halloween Hack, his first semi-serious game project.

Why ?

Because he's just that kind of "funny guy" and felt like it. His words, not mine.

This was, up until not so long ago, the kind of person that Toby was online.

When taking all this into account and looking back at the un-cropped version of that quote, it becomes pretty obvious what's going on here.

Toby Fox found a bootleg nursery rhyme video of Undertale characters, found that hilarious (As the "funny guy" that he is), and decided to make a shitpost about it. Joking about how this weird thing that he found, right here, was the peak of official Undertale material and might just be more canon in his book than the kickstarter or tweets were.

The post that started this whole thing in the first place was just that, a shitpost, a joke, not something that Toby ever actually meant. Which honestly should have been pretty obvious in the first place, i mean, this is still a post about Toby trolling bootleg nursery rhymes, people. It wasn't meant to be taken seriously...

Besides, that tweet's statement would have been self-contradictory anyways. If tweets weren't canon, then this tweet would not be canon either, etc... Leading to one of those silly paradoxical loops rather than to an actual statement about tweet canonicity.

So then, that brings the question : Why ?

Why do so many people still claim that tweets aren't canon ?

The reason is likely the same as the reason why this misconception was created in the first place : It is a rope to cling on to for some people to defend certain headcanons that Toby had debunked via tweets.

Because yes, between late 2015 and late 2016 Toby used to once in a while answer a question about the lore of the game on tweeter. Leaving some people with their headcanons turning out to be wrong.

(A few examples of headcanons that Toby denied on twitter were that Undyne killed the green soul human, or that ghost monsters used to be humans, for example.)

It was some of those people, in the first place, who started cropping this tweet to make it seem like their headcanons were still on the table and started the mess in the first place.

This rumor, at its origins, was not just a mere misconception but rather a deliberate attempt at misinformation from some fans that weren't happy with the way Toby had taken the game, which is unfortunately still being shared around to this day due to how sensible it seems at first sight.

[sabotourist]

Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

[just-some-random-blogger]

Rebel

Prince!Kylo Ren x Cage Fighter!Reader

Summary: Prince Kylo was a rebel at heart. His grandfather, Emperor Anakin, was on his final limb trying to groom the boy into becoming a good Skywalker, but it seems he was too preoccupied with things outside his duty to care.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: fem!reader, alternate universe, slight modern/contemporary world au?, royal family-ish au, enemies with benefits?, smut (sadism, dom/sub dynamic, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, light bondage), kylo is going through a phase ig, yucky smoker!kylo (don't smoke pls), slow burn, typos, etc.

A/N: Felt like cross posting this on AO3 also minors dni you guys arent ready for this because I'm not ready for this HAHAAHHA my brain farts are real. also if there's anything wrong with my star wars lore just roll with it ok it's the beauty of my au world HAHHAH <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

"Put that out before father sees you."

Kylo looks over his shoulder, pulling away the cigarette from his lips as he blows smoke from his lungs. He looks at his mother and sighs, "my father or your father?"

Leia eyes her son, "Ben-"

"Kylo," he corrects, taking another puff of his smoke.

The crown princess narrows her eyes and with one flick of her finger, the barely burning cigarette shoots out of his fingers, across the hall.

"Bro- what the fu-"

"See," she places her hands on her hips, "you would have been able to stop me if you trained with Luke more often," Kylo's mother offers as she leans into him and sniffs his rank smoker odor, brushing him off as she did.

Leia's son, who towers over her, cringes as he is pat down harshly.

Leia notes, "you reek."

"Stop it," he quips as his shoulder is swatted with way more force than necessary. Kylo curls his arms over himself in protection. She does not relent, and so he calls, "mom!"

Leia sighs and places her hands on her hips, "no, you're right," she looks up at him, "I should just let the emperor catch you," she raises a finger, "and let's be honest. Even if you trained more with Luke," she turns about, " you still wouldn't be able to best me."

The woman marches off, mentally noting to rant to her son's father about him.

Kylo grunts as he watches his mother walk away. By the time she reaches then end of the hall, Kylo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He pulls out his sleek, silver box of cigarettes and grabs a stick. He turns around as he begins to light the thing lazily pressed between his lips.

He doesn't get to though. His fire is burnt out by the ominous snippy atmosphere and his lighter slips through his fingers.

Immediately, the cigarette falls after, down to his boots and he grows frigid at the sight of the slouching man before him, hand propped on a cane, face concealed in a dark mask.

"Emperor. I-"

"Continue to disappoint?" he speaks through the constraint of his mask, not even raising a finger to get both the fallen objects on the floor as well as the one in Kylo's hands.

The emperor chucks out those hazards through the window, using so much Force that it probably propelled out of orbit. Kylo internally begins to sputter out curses.

"Why are you roaming here in the gardens, killing your grandmother's flowers, boy?" the old man demands, breathing heavily.

Kylo gulps and clenches his hands into a fist.

"Are you not meant to be training with your uncle?" Anakin quips, taking a deep breath as he slowly walks past his grandson.

Kylo tenses and steps aside to allow the emperor passage. He knows better than to do so, and yet he still offers, "do you want some hel-"

"Do you have a death wish?" Anakin wheezes as he heads to the arch in the hall, not even sparing his hulk of a progeny a look. He would have beaten his ass in his prime, he thinks, as he makes his way into the palace garden.

Immediately, Anakin feels a Force around him. He basks in it and Kylo can feel it too, though he thinks the Force is coming from his mother's father.

Anakain swears he can smell the scent of his beloved Padme in this moment. He mentally debates taking his mask off, but decides against it, knowing his child's child will throw a hissy fit, then his actual children will throw another hissy fit.

Kylo does nothing but watch the old man walk off. He thinks of the few memories he has with his grandmother then goes terse all over again when he hears a shout, "GO TRAIN, BOY!"

Kylo releases a breath, "yes sir."

Anakin, after a long while, finally reaches a bench and sits down. He looks at the flowers in the shrubs and bushes around him. He breathes in deeply, as deeply as his mask will allow him then closes his eyes. He pretends he was not himself, rather that he was his younger self. He thinks about his wife and how he would have plucked out a flower for her in this moment.

"Oh, Padme," instead he sighs, "you're grandson is a rebel, my love. I don't know what to do with him," he opens his eyes, "but you would have."

Kylo, at this point, had successfully fled the wrath of his forebears, and was now at the garage, readying his air speeder. He ruffles his black, baggy jeans with infinite pockets and feels his key eventually. He jumps in his vehicle and finds another box of cigarettes in his compartment.

"Thank you, Kylo," he mutters to himself as he gets another stick of nicotine.

He lights his cigarette as he waits for the garage door to open.

But then came a high-pitched beeping noise, and he immediately pulls away the lit stick in his mouth.

R2-D2 rambles on and on in his dings and buzzes in a scolding manner.

Kylo's ears ring. Fucking droid. He rubs his ear then turns to his side. He watches as the robot nears rolls back and forth as it chastises him.

"Can it, tin can."

R2-D2's light becomes red.

Kylo clutches his steering wheel, "if you rat me out to grandpa, I'll turn you into a museum display."

R2-D2 flares even more at the threat.

"Well, I don't give a shit if uncle Luke is waiting for me," he snips back, staring his engine, then driving off. He raises a hand, "later, loser."

R2-D2 loses its marbles.

Kylo drives deep into the capital city, the part that was more commercial and had less military presence. But really, the old man's reach was felt throughout the galaxy. It'd be a matter of time before his fun is over. That's why he intends on having as much fun as he possibly can.

He aimlessly roams for a moment, driving through streets he frequents, and some he doesn't recall he's ever been. He leans on his side and feels the wind blow back his jaw length hair. Then he finds himself parking in a coincidentally free spot on a busy street.

It's destiny, he thinks.

So, he pulls up in the edge of the street and hops out of his air speeder, aimlessly walking around. He pulls out his comms device and sends a message.

From Kylo: where u?

He shoves his comms back in his pocket, keeping his hands stuffed there, knowing he wouldn't get a response from his friend any time soon. He walks to the edge of the street, stops right at a pedestrian lane, then crosses once the light turns green.

As he struts past a conveniece store, he turns to his barely visible reflection and runs his hands through his hair. The street grows increasingly busy as he continues. It's packed with people on the daily their commute, off to work, to school, or to wherever they ought to be. With every being that passes him, human, alien, droid, or otherwise, he slowly feels the paranoia seep in him.

He rubs his nose, 100% sure that that old lady was whispering about him.

He was being watched, he was being looked at, he was being talked about. A work hazard, something you deal with as royalty. He likes to pretend he's better than that, public opinion doesn't matter to him, but he isn't a very good pretender.

He clears his throat, pulls out the shades he always kept handy on him, and puts them on. Suddenly, he's not as paranoid.

In truth, if you knew the faces of the Skywalker clan, not even these large glasses would stop you from recognizing him. But still, he felt better with them on. The only reason he probably did was because the little boy in him still believed the words of his father.

Ben had been 4 or 5 at the time, and had been struggling with the attention from the general public and the press. Han Solo had gave him shades, the very same one he had now, and told him when he had them on, he'd be invisible. It helped that his dad, mom, and uncle were in on it and pretended he was when he'd wear them. The servants were quick enough to follow suit. His grandfather though, ever the cynic, never played the game with him, and always told him to put the ridiculous thing off.

He figured then of course the emperor could see him. He had superior connections with the Force.

Kylo crosses the street.

A group of school girls catch sight of him and stare as he walks by. Once he's gone, they squeal and gush over how handsome he was.

Kylo feels his comms vibrate.

To Kylo: At work. Can't come.

Kylo snorts, then turns to his side when he smells an alluring savory scent. He sees the burrito stand and walks over as he replies.

From Kylo: im getting burritos

Kylo walks to the order window and decides he'll get what he always gets. The employee begrudgingly walks over to the window and leans on the table by the window, "Good morning," she says flatly, "what can I get you?"

Kylo examines at the bandage she has on her brow and the swollenness of her cheek. He knows it'll turn blue soon, but he doesn't say that, "two classic burritos, one of them with extra radish."

She nods and then punches up Kylo's order on the register, "12 credits."

Kylo pulls his head back, "12? It's 4.50 each."

"Not anymore for a long time," she mutters in response, shifting in her spot.

Kylo lets out a breath, thinking it's a ridiculous price, but pays 12 credits nonetheless.

He receives another message.

To Kylo: No.

Kylo snorts yet again at his text mate. He moves to the side and waits for his order. In the meantime, he looks around the block, thinking of what else he can do to amuse himself.

From the corner of his eye, he spots the sign The Death Star, and chuckles under his breath. He uses his Force to try and see what exactly this death star was, and then quickly realizes it was a cage fighting arena.

Kylo smirks.

From Kylo: come to 12th street. we're watching a cage fight in the death star :D

Kylo turns around when he hears his order get called out. He says quick thank you to the man who gives him his burrito. He looks at him and his pudgy form, then examines his knuckes before he pulls away. He spots, seeing no bruise on them. He definitely wasn't the one who punched the lady that worked here.

Kylo then crosses and heads to The Death Star. He looks at his comms one last time before heading for the entrance.

To Kylo: ????

"Moron," he chuckles to himself.

He reaches The Death Star, finding it had a small entrance with guard big enough to block it whole.

"50 credits," the bouncer says to him.

Kylo looks at the man. He was twice as big as the one who worked at the burrito shop. Still, Kylo thinks he could take him.

"Why so expensive?" he asks.

The bouncer rolls his shoulders back, "you got a problem, peasant? Then leave."

He does not like that. The bouncer was on the steps leading up to the door, which was why he was about as tall as Kylo. He wonders if he should force choke him and walk in, but then he feels a buzz from the comms in his pocket and is snapped out of it. He pays the over-expensive door fee then walks in, eating his burrito.

"Just keep walking straight then go down the stairs," the bouncer says, "you can't miss it."

He doesn't miss it. He immediatly spots the stairs, finding it went both up and down. Kylo looks up in curiosity. He figures if he instead went upstairs, there would most definitely be someone there waiting him to throw him down. He simply just descends with his burrito.

Once he reaches the only place the stairs lead to, he surveys the setting, wondering why there were chandeliers and drapes in this foyer when he knows once he gets to the area where the crowds were screaming, there would be a semi-large cage and audience members hollering for blood. Weird.

But then again, his grandpa lived in a palace and he was out for his blood.

He takes it back. It's fitting.

He continues to walk, chewing on his food, then get into the arena, at the very edge of it. It seems the round just finished, considering the reaction of the crowd.

Kylo promptly finds an empty spot, then sits down as he watches the cage get swept. It looks like a droid was shattered after the match.

He chuckles when he imagines it being R2-D2.

It takes a few minutes for the next round to commence, and by the time it does, Kylo's burrito was finished.

At this moment, he pulls out his comms and sees he's received multiple messages. He grins when he sees the one that confirmed that he was, in fact, going to be seeing his friend here at the death star soon.

There is a loud announcement suddenly, and the crowd goes wild. Soon enough two competitors are announced, and Kylo perks up and tilts his head when he sees the face of one of them, you, the burrito lady.

Kylo, is so stunned that has to push his shades down to see if he was seeing clearly. Yep. Still 20/20.

There you were, standing no longer in your burrito-stand uniform, but in fitted shorts and a fitted tank top. You had wraps in your hands and feet, and the marks on your face made total sense now.

Kylo leans back on his seat and pushes his shades up.

You got them from your cage fights.

He finds himself smiling.

Interesting.

"- with 27 wins and 2 losses-"

Hmm, an impressive record.

Kylo cannot help but to cheer with the crowd as it screams for you after you are introduced. An interesting name you had. He'll have to remember that.

Both you and your opponent's hands are raised just before the start of the match.

The prince nods his head and thinks he will enjoy seeing you win or lose today.

Halfway through the match, as Kylo is screaming for you as you bash your knee into your opponent, who was, mind you, twice your size, he is grabbed my the arm and ripped out of his focus.

Kylo turns annoyed then breaks into a smile, speaking loudly over the audience' noise. "Hux! You're just in time." Kylo hands the man the burrito with extra radish, then turns back to the cage, "burrito girl is really good!"

Hux takes the burrito and looks at Kylo, then the cage. The dark haired man clenches his hand into a fist and cheers as the round is called to an end.

The red haired man pulls his head back after beholding the collective protests.

"AW WHAT! SHE TOTALLY WON THAT ROUND!" Kylo snarls against the announcement that your slimy alienoid opponent was the victor for round 3.

Kylo sits back down and cross his arms. Hux sits down next to him and gives him a look, "you're insane, you know that right? D'you know what would happen to us if someone-"

"And you're boring," Kylo retorts, running his hand through his dark locks.

Hux holds back his eyeroll, and shakes his head instead. His ginger, gelled back hair reflects the glaring spotlights in the room. Hux unwraps his burrito and takes a bite, crossing his legs as he did so.

Kylo turns to him, mentally noting he appreciated he came to him right after work, the give away being he was still in uniform. Hux's sharp shoulder pads starkly contrasted the softness of his frumpy sweater, though they were both black.

"Extra radish," he points.

Hux nods and rolls his eyes, "yes," he chews, "thank you, Ben."

Kylo glares at him.

Hux chews some more, then corrects himself, "Kylo."

Kylo turns away, looking back at the cage.

The next round promptly begins and Kylo is visibly excited. He talks over the loud cheers of the crowd, "we're going to meet her after the round."

Hux knits his brows as Kylo stands to his feet and claps for the competitors.

"Meet? Who?"

"Her!" Kylo points to the cage.

Hux looks.

"I paid 500 credits to have her company to ourselves later," Kylo says with a fond smile.

Hux nearly chokes on his burrito, "you what?!"

He is dutifully ignored for the rest of the match.

When the match does end, Hux thinks of Kylo's decisions even more poorly. The prince is incredibly sour, as the match did not end in favor of this burrito girl as he had gotten fond of for no other reason than that he is compulsive.

Hux does not know if he should be mulling over the fact that the girl, who lost the match on a technicality, worked part-time at the burrito shop that made the delicious snack he just ate, or the fact that Kylo, in all his temper and moodiness, was about to meet her when he was extremely disappointed and very emotional over her loss.

Hux, though he knew about Kylo's explosive tendencies, doesn't dare offer to just leave though, considering he basically made himself homeless by paying so much to meet the cage fighter.

That would be funny though, no? A homeless prince.

When Kylo and Hux are let in the back room, the two turn to each other, seeing the poor conditions of the place.

"500 credits dude," you say, standing from the spot you were sat on.

Kylo takes in the cuts and bruises in your form, agreeing with himself that, considering the violence you exacted and received in the ring, you looked extremely well, and came out mostly unscathed.

"You should have won that round," Kylo says shaking his head. He watches as you smile softly at his words. He feels his chest flutter and decides he enjoys the subtleness of your expression. He would love to make you react the same way again, "that thing outnumbered you with his six arms."

You shrug, toned shoulders glistening with sweat and ointment. Now that he was up close, Kylo could see how fit you were. He licks his lips when he catches your barely visible navel.

"A biological advantage," you retort, "it's not like I can ask him to cut off his arms for me to make it fair."

"Still," Kylo raises a finger, "you should have won."

You shake your head at his words, offering another smile, but no further reply.

Hux surveys the dingy room, thinking if you worked at a burrito stand and a cage fighting job, you must be desperate for credits. He turns to you and straightens up, "you know, with your skills, you could do well as a trooper," the commander says, "you would be paid well, given lodging, health care-"

"So you are an imperialist," you place a hand on your hip and point to him.

Commander Hux tenses. Kylo chews his bottom lip as he holds back a laugh.

I mean, Hux was very visibly an imperialist.

"I thought you just liked imperial fashion on whole other level," you add.

Hux finds himself getting defensive, "is that a problem?"

You tilt your head, "liking imperial fashion or being an imperialist?"

Kylo pretends he's offended and knits his brows, speaking at the same time as his friend, "both."

You look between the two and shake your head, "no. It's just weird to see an actual, I don't know, officer from the regiment spectate a match."

Hux narrows his eyes, "why, is this place illegal?"

You snort, and Kylo beams at the idea.

"I wouldn't have joined this troupe if it was."

Kylo is mildly disappointed, but more so amused by the topic that was spiraling and how Hux was reacting to it. Kylo turns back to you when you point at him, "I remember where I know you from."

Hux feels slightly agitated over the idea the prince was going to be recognized.

Kylo smiles and adjusts his shades, "yes, you took my ord-"

"History class, 204, professor Djarin."

"..."

Hux pulls his head back and looks between Kylo and you.

Kylo is dumbfounded. So much so, he takes off his shades, "you went to Naboo Public State?"

You promptly laugh upon seeing his brown eyes, knowing well how much he rolled them at your shared history teacher, "yeah. Djarin called you Skyslugger cause you were always late."

Hux internally cringes, agitation level skyrocketing, because that does sound like something that would have happened to him in school. That meant, you knew exactly who they both were now, which meant, if you wanted, you could happily talk about how a commanding officer and the prince of the empire went to your cage fight match at a place called The Death Star, and paid 500 credits to speak with you after. Lord, he could already hear General Leia's disappointment in his head.

Kylo snorts, though he was more annoyed at the memory than amused, "damn Din Djarin."

"You never graduated, did you?" you ask.

Hux turns to Kylo, wordlessly telling him not to answer that.

Kylo does anyway, "I didn't, no. Parent's pestering me to re-enroll."

That's enough, Ben, Hux thinks loudly.

You tilt you head, "maybe you should."

Hux turns to you and presses his lips, "hear that, maybe you should!"

Kylo turns to him as Hux slaps his hand on Kylo's shoulder. He glares at Hux, "no."

A beat passes.

You look between the two, "so, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Hux instinctively turns to Kylo, prompting you to do the same.

"Well," Kylo starts, leaning onto one leg, crossing his arms.

Hux recognizes this behavior and then makes a face.

"I honestly wanted to just talk about how I think you deserved to win, and perhaps," he moves slightly closer to you, "to invite you to hang out with us."

Hux shakes his head and raises his hands, "count me out. I have places to be."

"Just you and me then," Kylo smiles softly.

Hux rolls his eyes, he was right. Another day, another plaything. He so very much wants to leave now.

But then, Hux catches the way your face twists. He finds his lips curling into amusement as you furrow your brows. You are clearly uninterested, and suddenly, he is glad that Kylo paid 500 credits just to be here. His rejection will be sweet and deserved.

"Your payment for a meet does not extend to outside endeavors."

Kylo nods, leaning towards you more, "oh, I know. Just wondered if you would be interested in getting a drink."

"Well, I'm not."

"Interested in getting a drink?"

"In you, Prince Ben."

Kylo's face twitches. Hux clears his throat to hold back his laugh.

Kylo doesn't have anything else to say and it is hillarious.

Another beat passes.

You shift in your spot as Hux turns around and laughs in his hand. Kylo rubs his nose and straightens up.

"Is that it?" you ask.

Kylo turns to you, ire beginning to burn, "what?"

"Is that all you wanted?" you clarify, waving a hand. "I mean, you paid 500 credits, I can show you around the place if you like."

Hux turns back around and smiles, "oh, please, do. That would be lovely."

Kylo clenches his jaw, "no. I saw everything I needed to see already."

Hux makes a soft oof sound and indulges himself with a chuckle.

"I'm a force user," Kylo says, "I used my Force Sight to see."

"Ah," you nod.

Hux turns to you and nods, "I stand corrected, I think we will both be leaving now."

You purse your lips and shrug, "suit yourself."

Kylo releases a huff. You knit your brows when he nods to you in regard, "burrito girl."

You blink at him, "500 credits dude."

Hux watches as you curtsy at Kylo. He shakes a hand and his head, mouthing, "he doesn't like that."

You straighten up and watch as the two then walk out of the room.

"Oh, if you ever want to apply as a troop, tell them you were recommended by commander Armitage Hux."

You raise your brows at that, "your name is Armitage?"

Hux makes a face at your expression, "what? Why?"

"Nothing it's just, you don't look like-"

"Hux, let's go."

You turn to Kylo, who just walked out of the room.

"Just call me Hux, everyone calls me that."

You purse your lips then nod.

"Goodbye then," Hux waves and follows after his friend.

As Kylo and Hux exit the room, then the arena, the latter notes, "well that was fun."

Kylo ignores him.

Hux chuckles, "oh, come on. She was a good fighter. You said it yourself."

Kylo grunts.

"I especially enjoyed it when she defeated you."

Kylo glares at Hux. Hux grins from ear to ear.

"Do you want me to demote you?" Kylo groans.

"You can't demote me, prince Ben," Hux says a-matter-of-factly as they climb up the stairs.

Kylo eyes Hux as he ascends before him then uses his Force to make him trip on the steps.

As Hux nearly faceplants, barely catching himself with his hands as he crashes down, Kylo steps over him and continues climbing up.

"BEN!"

Kylo hisses harshly, "don't call me that."

Kylo leaves Hux, deciding he deserved it for being annoying. He thinks he'll go get drinks by himself since no one cared to keep him company.

He nearly breaks his comms after all the ruckus it made while he was brooding in a booth at a lounge he frequented. He doesn't destroy it though. It wasn't his to break. It was a gift from his uncle. His mother refused to get him a new one after breaking countless ones before this one. Luke made him swear to keep it intact.

Kylo abandons his booth to get himself another drink after finishing his nth cocktail.

This time around, with his tiny martini glass in hand, complete with a paper umbrella, he decides he's going to dance, even if he was tipsy and, frankly, hated dancing, especially those folkdances his mother and grandmother taught him and made him do every moment they could. Fuck that shit.

Kylo puts the umbrella stick in his hair just by his ear and chugs his drink as he walks to the crowded dancefloor.

He raises both of his hands and sways his hips on beat as he sifts through the creatures dancing to insanely loud music.

He randomly taps someone's shoulder and hands them the glass, which they stupidly accept, allowing Kylo to break it down and boogie freely with no glass to think about. Only his dark glasses.

By break it down and boogie, of course, I meant Kylo was flailing his head and arms around, pivoting his shoulder and belly to the music. Was it good? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

He feels a bunch of people come onto him, grinding on him or dancing with him. He lets them. When they tell him they should take their dancing somewhere else, he refuses.

Eventually, he's turned down a bunch of people and is left alone.

With his forehead damp with sweat, he exits the dance floor when the music changes to something slow.

He decides to get himself another drink.

"Never knew you had that in you, Ben."

He cringes before he even sits down. He turns to the woman in a pink dress next to the stool at the bar he was about to sit on. He feels his brows pull up at the sight of her.

"Don't call me that, burrito girl," Kylo quips as he calls for the bartender.

You furrow brows further, leaning on the bar top, "call you what? Your name?"

Kylo is served another cocktail, the only one he ever orders, without needing to say it. He thanks the bartender as he downs his drink.

You raise your brows at him, watching some of the liquid spill from his corners of his mouth.

Kylo turns to you, wiping his lips, "don't call me Ben."

You blink, "so... you want to me to call you 500 credits dude?"

"Kylo," he retorts, as he racks his brain. He can't seem to remember what he's looking for though, so he asks, "what was your name again?"

You give him a once over before responding.

When he hears your name, Kylo shakes his head, thinking, truly, the only time he heard it was during the match earlier today, "I really don't remember you."

You chuckle, "yeah, more so now than ever."

Kylo looks at the bright pink dress on your body and thinks it looks good on you, "you change your mind then?"

You take a sip of your drink and turn to him, "what?"

"You come here knowing it's where I'd be?" Kylo leans forward.

You raise a brow at him, "no. I came here to meet someone but I got stood up."

Kylo chuckles, "serves you right."

"Excuse me?" you tilt your head.

Kylo grins and stands, "you're excused."

Kylo walks off and heads for the dancefloor again even though the music was still slow. Why? Because fuck it. He was down to slow dance with strangers.

You take your turn to survey Kylo as he drunkenly moves to the dancefloor. He was incredibly large and even through his baggy clothes, you could tell he was quite athletically built. You turn away just before he catches you looking.

The entire time he dances, Kylo's eyes isn't closed like how they were a while ago. He was looking at you, faced to the bar, hunched over in a pretty pink dress, waiting for no one.

Pathetic. You should be dancing here with him.

He dodges a two headed alien that asks if he wants to have a good time and walks back to you.

He calls out your name and grabs your arm, making you turn to him from your seat with a glare that would have intimidated him, but he was drunk, and he could so take you... in more ways than one.

"Forget about that loser. He's not into you. I am. Dance with me."

You gotta hand it to him. He is confident. But then again, it'd be embarrassing to be in line for the throne and not be.

You take a moment to wonder how Kylo could possibly know you were waiting for a guy then decide he was just good at guessing, not that you looked pathetic right now. You pull your arm out of his grasp, "haven't we established I don't like you?"

"Yeah," Kylo scoffs, placing his hands on his hips, "well, I don't like you either."

You narrow your eyes at him, "why do you want me to dance with you then?"

"Because this is what lounges are for!" Kylo flails his hands out, "not for sulking."

You roll your eyes at him and turn away.

Kylo raises a finger and uses his Force to spin you around. When you realize this is what he did, you stand and look up at him, eyes devoid of any amusement, "you know, I don't care who you are. You're seriously pushing your luck right now."

Kylo enjoys a good conflict. He shakes his head the way drunk people do and raises a finger, "if you're going to waste your time waiting on someone you already know stood you up, wouldn't it be better for him to walk in on you having so much fun rather than looking miserable?"

You clench your jaw at his words and tense when he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the dance floor.

This time, you do not refute him, though you drag your feet on the way.

"Only to make him jealous," you say, walking close to Kylo.

Kylo makes a gagging sound, "how corny of you."

You shove him back, and Kylo is taken off guard by how strong you actually are. He collides into a group of people, who promptly shove him back towards you. You grunt as you catch him, keeping him upright.

"You're wasted," you hiss.

Kylo grins, "no, I'm Kylo."

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with less force, then turn around and leave him there.

Kylo grabs your arm before you can walk away any further .To his surprise, you do not repel him and easily fall back into his arms.

"We're meant to dance not to-"

Kylo shuts himself up when you speak a name that is not at all his.

He lifts up his eyes and sees a man looking at you with contempt. Before he can think, you shove him away and walk over to loser. The man eyes Kylo as you walk with him.

Kylo feels a headache coming on. He just stands there in the middle of the crowd, sticking out like sore thumb with how large and unmoving he was, waiting for the headache to come. To his luck, it doesn't.

He decides to go to the bathroom then settle his bill.

He busts open the men's bathroom door, cringing at the sound of moans that come to a halt when he enters. He quickly washes his hands and walks out, pulling out his comms device, sending a message to multiple people to have him get picked up.

He decides to drink some more as he waits.

He downs about three more cocktails before paying his dues and coming to terms with the fact no one was going to pick him up.

He sighs and drunkenly gets out of the lounge, gracelessly bumping into some people along the way.

He is surprised to see a pretty pink dress when he gets out to the curb.

Kylo calls out your name and hears you gasp.

When you turn to him, he swears he sobers up a fraction at the sight of your red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

He coughs and shifts on his spot, "you want me to kill him?" He points to no where.

You knit your brows and cross your arms, "what?"

"I can kill him for you," Kylo mutters.

You make a face and shake your head rapidly, "are you insane?"

"Yes," he mutters, "I don't like it when girls cry over guys-" he brushes his nose, "-s'why I don't date."

For a prolonged moment, you stare at Kylo, at this drunken Ben Solo, second in line to the Skywalker Empire, the same one who laughed at your joke that one time during lunch. You feel incredulous to the events that has transpired.

You weren't shocked that he didn't know you from university. For starters, he was a chronic repeater, turned drop out, which was insane to think considering he let the class copy off his exams, setting a new curve because of how many of them aced that test.

Ben Solo was the cool kid with bad habits, and he hung out with troopers in his spare time, which meant he didn't really know anyone beyond his circle.

And this Kylo persona was just the same as the Ben you once knew. Bigheaded, loud, and rebellious, with streaks of genuinity and thoughtfulness who wouldn't expect from him.

He was a loose canon in other words. This was why you didn't like him, why every time people would gush about him, you'd let yourself think opposite because nothing ever came out of liking a guy like him.

You ask through your clogged sinuses, rather out of context, "why can't I call you Ben?"

Kylo runs his hands through his hair, the umbrella he left there falls on the floor, "cause I don't like him."

"You don't like Ben?"

He shakes his head, "don't wanna be him."

A group of people exit the lounge the next moment, prompting Kylo to walk over to you to make way. You narrow your eyes at his answer and wipe your face. He probably meant he doesn't want to assume his roles as a prince.

You find yourself chuckling.

Everyone's got their own thing, you think.

"You're drunk," you mutter, making him turn to you.

"I'm Kylo," he repeats once more, making you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, I got that, prince."

Kylo grumbles, looking away from you, "shut up."

The word triggers you, because the man you thought you loved and would love you back just spoke the same words to you a while ago. You look at him, emotions flaring up all over again. They manifest in rage and contempt, "no."

Kylo turns back to you, face fully annoyed.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" you stab, "why do I have to shut up about it?"

Kylo shakes his head and let out a deep breath. The smell of alcohol makes you pull back, "now I really don't like you."

You scoff, "well I really don't like you either."

"I didn't even do anything to you," he raises a finger, "and you rejected me?" he retorts in full offence.

You pull your head back at his words.

He begins to trail off, "what? Was I a jerk to you in uni? I wouldn't have been because I barely talked to anyone there, so I know you're just being spiteful."

Is he really on about that? You make a face, "have you never been rejected before."

"Of course I've been rejected," he sputters out, "just not without unfounded reason."

You cannot believe what you're hearing, it was like this moment really was a reply of your earlier encounter.

"Are you trying to say I'm being senseless?"

Kylo scoffs, "I'm saying you getting dumped is the universe balancing itself out."

You let out a dry laugh, "wow," you step on his foot, making him reel back in pain, "asshole!"

Kylo nearly topples over as he pulls his leg back and grunts, "you little shit!"

You very much walk away after that. You manage to storm to the edge of the street before you can't move at all anymore.

It takes the honking obnoxious sounds of Kylo coming near for you to realize it was all his doing.

He comes over like a siren, screaming out in the otherwise quiet street, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you out into orbit right now."

You turn to him, feeling just a fraction of a tinge of fear rise up into because he was from a line of powerful Force users after all. But then you remember Ben Solo was all bark and hardly any bite. You scoff, "well, for starters, I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

Kylo laughs. It's honestly pretty dark it makes your skin break out with gooseflesh.

"If you could, you'd have done it by now-" you choke on your last word. Literally, Kylo force chokes you up until he gets close enough to press his hand on your throat.

In all honestly, you were in a damning situation, and yet you were more focused on the way he licked his lips, grit his teeth, and rubbed his fingers on your skin. That, and the fact that you still could actually breathe through the pressure he was putting on you.

You felt your stomach roll.

He pulls you close to him, and before you can think of fighting back, he uses his force to keep your body pinned in place.

He releases you altogether and gives you a once over, "don't underestimate the things I can do."

Kylo looks at the cut on your lip, drawn over with lipstick. He thinks of licking the color off, "the things I want to do to you."

Your heart skips a beat. You huff, hands shooting to his sides the moment he releases you from his Force hold.

His other hands comes to your neck. He tilts your head up at him.

You heave, "and what do you want to do with me... Ben?"

He hisses, "put out that glint in your eye," he steps forward, pressing his fingers into my scalp, "make you beg."

You feel your stomach roll.

It amplifies when Kylo traces the injuries on your face with his fingers.

Needless to say, Kylo was wholly surprised but fully pleased when you got back to your place and didn't put up much a fight against him.

He was a kinky fucker, making you get on your knees, making you do his every whim, making you call him sir.

You figured pretty quickly that he probably craved to be in control, considering how bossy he was. Kylo figured the opposite for you, considering how readily you were to be told what to do.

He fully enjoys making you undress him, especially with all the lip worship you gave on his burning skin. He half regrets making you undress yourself, considering how satisfying it was to see you strip. He would have loved it more had he done it himself. Maybe next time.

He massages your body the moment your bare. He makes it a point not to press on your bruised skin, but then the inner sadist in him felt his insides ignite at the whimper that left your lips when his hand brush over your swollen hips.

"Kylo," you moaned as he kneaded at your sides while he trailed kisses down your sternum.

He lifts his head, smirking as you tugged at his hair, asking for his attention.

"Yes, my sweet?"

With you pressed beneath him on your bed, you buck your hips upward into him. He feels his cockiness double with your neediness.

"I'm gonna have to hear you beg, baby girl," Kylo muses, "that's our deal."

You whimper, "please."

Kylo is insufferable. He grabs your bare thighs and pulls them apart, rubbing himself in your already sopping heat. He pouts, feigning confusion, "please what?"

"Please, sir," you whine.

He laughs, asking again, "please sir what?"

"Please, sir, do something."

How desperate. Adorable.

Kylo sighs and nibbles on your breast as you tighten your legs around him, "hmmm, let me take my time."

Your soft flesh reluctantly retreats out of his mouth as you force his head off you by lifting it up. Your nipple is grazed out of Kylo's teeth as you shimmy beneath him, pushing your way down against his wishes, wanting nothing more than to be aligned on him.

You want to be a brat? Game.

Next thing you know you're paying your dues, pressed on your knees, hands bound to the bed with his belt as he lets your needy core drip down your parted thigh as he barely touches you with his fingers.

"One more time," Kylo coaxes as you sob and whine.

"I'm sorry, sir," you sigh in defeat, eyes watering at the edging.

Kylo shushes you, though he laughs and shifts behind you. Your body jolts you feel him grab your hips that have been tirelessly hanging in the air, waiting for this very moment to come to pass.

"Now, remind me what you want again?" Kylo says as he brushes the tip of his length against your entrance.

You let out a pathetic cry, feeling your core flutter in anticipation. You desperately cry out his name.

He appreciates it, but it isn't an answer. He tells you this exactly.

"Need you," you mutter, "need you to fuck me."

Kylo's ego is through the roof. "Need me to fuck you?" he repeats, though he does not give away how much that strokes his ego.

He does not forget your lack of respect though, "where's that sir, baby?"

You nearly sob as you repeat yourself, "need you to fuck me, sir."

You let out a lewd noise when you feel him slowly push into you.

You immediately try to fuck yourself onto him, but you're too delirious, and he's too strong for you to follow through. Kylo locks you in place, pulling you tightly against him, "hold on, pretty girl. Don't ruin this for me. Need you to calm down and take me well."

All you can do is pull at your bounds, further helping the bruises form there for visibly.

"Kylo," you groan in an empty threat and desperate plea.

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, slowly beginning to move.

You graciously moan in response.

He immediately quickens his pace.

Your noises grow louder.

Kylo wonders about your neighbors. He smiles and decides he doesn't care though. The next moment he thrusts into you so punishingly, as if it was a punishment. But no it felt so good.

Your bodies slamming against each other makes your bed creak in distress as it, itself, ruts into the wall behind its headboard.

You drool on your arm as you breathe hotly against it.

Kylo drives you further into insanity by rubbing into clit.

Needless to say, the next thing you know, you're making even more of a mess and your legs begin to give out as he continues to brutalize into your tenderness.

You come around him with a frantic cry and feel your body quake and tighten around him.

The ripples of ecstasy continue to ride out and heighten when Kylo comes inside you, pouring all his heat, frustration, and want into you.

He basks in your wetness the way you bask in his hardness. Your toes curl and your air leaves you. Kylo's rigid thrusts continuously grow sloppier.

A few moments pass and you both go putty.

You very much remember going for a less intense, more intimate round two after, with him leaning against your headboard and you maneuvering up and down him as your chests pressed together. You very much also remember Kylo curling into you later that night.

What you don't remember was ever kissing him, or feeling him get up to leave the morning after.

So it was a big fuck you when you saw him later that day, with his stupid ass shades in the middle of the afternoon as he whimpered over a ticket.

You made a mental note of the make and plate number of his air speeder next time he makes a mistake of parking it here.

The truth was, Kylo had been waiting for you at the burrito store, not knowing you didn't have a shift that day, and once the pudgy guy, a funny guy honestly, name Marley, told him he couldn't loiter there, he bought a burrito and asked where you were. Marley told him that you didn't have a shift today, so then he made Marley promise to pass a message to you. Kylo trusted him to tell you that he wanted to apologize for leaving.

That fucking summit earlier today was so fucking boring.

And Marley did mean to pass the message on, it's just that he forgot after taking so many burrito orders.

So it came as an even bigger fuck you when Kylo came to your match that same day, cheering you on.

What you wouldn't do to have him trapped in this cage with you.

You made it a point to tell the guys at The Death Star, not to let 500 credits dude anywhere near your changing room later that day, nor to let him in the place again, in fact, unless he was willing to pay 500 credits as a door charge.

So the next day, guess who wastes 500 credits trying to get into The Death Star for absolutely no reason?

Kylo does.

You didn't even fight that day.

The day after that, he has half the brain to go to the burrito stand again instead.

You nearly lunge at him and the stupid shades propped on his pointed nose through the window when he says, "you made your guy charge me 500 credits as a door fee?"

"Sorry, I only do burritos here," you quip back, "don't know what you're talking about."

Kylo brings out some units, "20 burritos then," he raises a finger, "I'll give a tip only if they're made by you."

You growl at him, nearly swatting the credits off the window sill, "the fuck do you need 20 burritos for?"

"I have a family!" Kylo calls back.

"And you're their burrito provider?" you scoff back.

"I am, actually," Kylo growls, "this is the only place in the capital that has nice burritos!"

Marley overhears this and pushes you aside, "why thank you, Kylo."

Kylo turns to him, clearing his throat, "it's not really a compliment. It's my opinion."

Marley beams, "and a great one! You know, I've been meaning to tell you, you look so much like our star prince, Prince Ben Solo."

You watch as Ben Solo cringes and waves his hand, "trust me, we look nothing alike."

You scoff at him.

Marley doesn't get to refute that as suddenly, he remembers something and turns to you, "oh," he gasps, "that reminds me. Kylo was here when you didn't have a shift and said he wanted to speak to you."

You pull your head back, "what?"

Kylo's eye twitches, "wait, are you saying you didn't pass my message to her?"

Marley turns to Kylo, "well, I was stacked up with burrito orders-"

The ding of an alarm from behind you indicates that you no longer have to listen to him, as your shift just ended.

You're not dealing with this.

You immediately hang up your apron and promptly leave, heading out the back, trailing down the narrow alley.

Before you could even reach the end of the exit, you jolt back when you see a heaving Kylo run up to you and block your passage.

You glare at him, watching his adam's apple bob as he gulped. You, yourself, gulp at that.

"I had to leave because I had a duty early in the morning," he rushes out.

You huff and push past him, shoving him back. Again, he forgets about your strength, not that he remembers much about that night beyond your sweet sounds, and is shocked when he nearly topples back.

Kylo does feel something familiar with how he uses his Force to keep you from walking away.

"Kylo, I will fucking deck you, I swear to--"

"I didn't think of leaving a note because I panicked and I'm an idiot."

Kylo circles around you and raises his hands in surrender. He accepts the consequence of you decking him if you really meant to once he removes his Force hold.

You sigh deeply, but don't bash his head against the pavement. He is grateful for it.

"So," Kylo starts, "do you still hate me?"

You narrow your eyes at him and scoff, "what is that? An apology with no apology?"

Kylo watches you walk off and chases after you, not at all convincingly responding with a, "I'm sorry!"

To be fair, even he could tell that he sounded more confused that apologetic.

"Take a hike, Ben."

Kylo growls. He pulls his shades off and manages to stand in front of you. He clenches his jaw and points with his glasses, "you know what. I hate you too."

Your face contorts. You scoff, "great," you force a smile, moving on.

He blocks you again when you sidestep, "you have made me spend thousands of credits in such a short span of time."

You sidestep once more, only to have him block you.

"I never asked you to do any of that!"

"So you're not sorry," Kylo narrows his eyes.

"Not at all," you gleam.

"Then that fucking does it!" he barks.

You look up at him as he seethes.

He steps forward, "you hate me, cause I'm an dick, and I hate you, cause you're a bitch."

You let out an incredulous laugh and feel your insides rage.

You grab him, intent on seriously hurting him, but it seems he anticipates it and grabs you right back then spins you over. He pushes you against the wall of the dingy building, pinning you against his body.

He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

You can feel your heart hammering in yours.

Neither of you can tell the other felt the same.

"Let me go, you fucking-"

"But I'm sure you can't say fucking without thinking of me fucking you, huh," he mutters under his breath as he brings his face near yours.

You tense at his words. You feel your breathing strain after.

Kylo's lips barely curve.

Defiantly, yet halfheartedly, you mutter under your breath, "fuck you."

He leans in and rubs his nose against your ear, "that can be arranged."

When Kylo releases you, you shove him back and walk off.

He heaves as he watches you storm away. He releases a breath in annoyance and licks his lips, finding himself gritting his teeth at his shoes. He got all worked up for nothing?

"Hey!"

Kylo lifts his head

"You better keep watching my matches," you say, turning to him as you walked back, "I get a cut from the door charge."

Kylo shifts in his spot. He does not show how he is pleased to know you want him to come to you again, "that 100% markup is cruel."

You shrug, "well, I hate you, so..."

Kylo holds back his laugh, "you'll pay for that, pretty girl."

You ignore the way your stomach rolls at his pet name. "Make me," you mock, turn away, then walk off, "see you, Ben."

Kylo scoffs, "oh, I'll make you."

[flightlessangelwings]

My Favorite Bartender

bartender!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), no powers au, bartender Peter, lounge band performer reader (I left it vague so you can imagine singer or plays an instrument), mutual pining, flirting, fluff, romance, drinking, praise, bar isn't described so you can imagine any type, background reader x Flash but I just used him in name only cause I needed an ex, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting my Year of AUs with an idea I've had in my head for over a year! It took me a while to come up with more than just vibes for this but I'm happy with how this turned out! Inspired by the gif below. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up of date on when I post new things!

~

A smooth melody floated through the air as Peter shook the mixer in his hands. The clinking of the ice added to the music as if they were meant to be played together, and Peter smiled at the patron as he put on a little show. The woman who sat at the bar gave him a flirtatious grin in return as she watched him pour her drink into a glass. 

“One Manhattan for the lady,” he said smoothly. 

“Thank you, handsome,” she winked and gave Peter an extra tip… and her number on a napkin before she walked away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she rejoined her friends. 

Peter smirked before he tactfully slid the napkin out of sight, never to touch it again.

He never expected his life would turn out this way. Peter Parker had always worked hard and excelled in school. He found his way with the help of a scholarship to a top college to study more of the science that he loved so much. And from there, he got into a grad school where he perfected his craft and applied for research grants. However, life came crashing down around him when he didn’t get it and all over work opportunities fell one by one like dominoes. It was a hard time for Peter, and it took him some time to climb out of his hole again.

Following his Aunt May’s advice, Peter learned a new craft to earn some money while he figured his life out. And that was how he ended up bartending… for the last few years. The money was decent, and after some disasters with spilling drinks and shattering glasses, Peter became quite skilled at it. He and May exchanged stories about their work often too, and her words always provided comfort for him.

“You’re not a failure just because you didn’t end up where you thought you would, Peter,” May told him on several occasions, “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

“I love you too, May,” Peter would reply meekly. 

But what really kept Peter tethered to the bar was you. You had started about a year after Peter did, and he was captivated with you from the moment he first saw you. Swallowing his nerves, he mustered up the courage to say hello and introduce himself. When you gave him your name and said you were there to audition for the house band, Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Here,” he slid a glass of sparkling water your way, “On the house,” he winked as he hoped he hid how flustered he actually felt.

“Thanks,” you raised your glass in a cheer and drank before you went and nailed your audition. 

Peter loved to watch you perform several nights a week. And he felt lucky that he got a prime seat for the show. At times, he almost forgot about the customers who were waiting for drinks when you were on stage. And as you swayed to the music that filled the room, Peter would sometimes drop his glass as he [aid more attention to you than what was in his hands. 

Over the months, the two of you even started to become friends, talking occasionally whenever you came to the bar for some water or whenever you both saw each other in the break room.

However close you seemed to Peter, though, you were just out of reach. He remembered the day a man came to watch you, seated right up front the entire time you were on stage with the band. Peter’s instincts told him who he was, but his heart still dropped when you introduced him as your boyfriend. 

“Peter, this is Flash,” you introduced him as you hung on his arm.

It took everything within him to not let the heartbreak show on his face, and Peter extended his hand with a taut smile, “Pleasure,” his words held no genuine emotion.

“That’s a strong grip, Pete,” Flash responded, shaking his hand, “Good thing you’re here to watch over my baby at work,” he continued, telling Peter about how much you’ve spoken about him.

As Flash rambled on, Peter’s eyes drifted to meet yours where he noticed your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He wondered why that was, but he also decided to interrupt your boyfriend with, “How about a drink for the happy couple? On the house,” he raised his mixer and a glass with his trademark smile on his face.

You breathed in relief, “I’d love one.”

Watching as Peter spun a glass in his hand and poured from a liquor bottle from the other, you were captivated. You loved to watch him mix drinks as he put on almost as much of a show as you did when you performed. Peter lifted the liquor bottle up, allowing the liquid to frame his shoulders like a rainbow before he lowered it back down. A perfect pour. Peter then covered the mixing bottle and shook it diligently, smirking at you while he did so. The look on his face made your heart flutter- something Flash hadn’t been able to accomplish in a very long time.

The truth was you were enamored with Peter. From the moment you met on your audition day, you felt a spark unlike anything you had ever felt before. His kind way, his handsome smile, the way his hands nimbly worked the glasses along the bar, it all made your skin tingle and your face warm. You couldn’t say anything, though. You were still with Flash, more out of comfort and convenience than true love at this point. So, you just enjoyed the time you spent with Peter at work, burying your feelings deep down every day. 

As Peter poured the two glasses and slid them towards the two of you, you couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Next to you, Flash was oblivious as his eyes never left the drinks.

“My compliments to the chef,” he raised his glass towards Peter, who gave him a weak smile in return, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks, Peter,” you agreed as you took a sip, “It’s delicious.” It was just the drink you needed at the moment, and you wondered how Peter knew. 

“Later,” Flash guided you away from the bar to mingle.

Looking over your shoulder one last time, you and Peter locked eyes and your heart fluttered in your chest. Peter kept the fake smile on his face until you were out of sight, and he felt his entire self slump down in disappointment. His heart ached in his chest as Flash put his hands all over you, treating you more like a possession than a person. But, he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he didn’t want to complicate anything by telling you how he really felt. So, Peter took a deep breath and donned the mask once more as he was flagged down by a fresh wave of patrons at the bar.

*

Even though Peter couldn’t call you his, he could still enjoy the time he spent with you. And he found that the bar always felt brighter whenever you were there. Whenever your eyes met his, he couldn’t help but smile, and there were times where the flutter in his chest almost felt like a heart attack. Peter would take any time with you he could get, and he truly valued the growing friendship between the two of you. 

Every night before you took the stage with the rest of the band, you always stopped by the bar and got a sparkling water from Peter. “My favorite bartender,” you would always say as you tripped your glass towards the identical one he held.

“It’s bad luck to drink alone,” Peter would quip with a mischievous smirk as he poured himself his own glass. He cheered it with your own and together the two of you would drink in unison. From the first night he did that, it became a tradition for the two of you, and something you both secretly looked forward to.

One night, the bar was unusually slow, and there weren’t many customers inside. The band took a break from performing, not wanting to waste the energy, and you went right to the bar. “How about something a little stronger than sparkling water, tonight?” you couldn’t help the subtly flirtatious tone in your voice.

“You sure about that?” Peter replied with his own coy tease in his tone.

“I’m positive,” you shimmied your shoulders.

“Alright, you asked for it,” Peter smirked back as he mixed something new for you. It was a beautiful color, and another perfect pour. Peter was just glad he didn’t drop a glass every time he glanced in your direction as you watched him intensely.

“To a slow night,” you raised your glass to him.

“To a slow night,” Peter agreed as he clinked the glass he poured himself with yours and you both drank.

As the hours passed, you and Peter continued to talk and drink at the bar until the last customer left. The manager decided to close early since it was so quiet, and the two of you stumbled towards the back to gather your things. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you lost your footing for a moment, but Peter was right there to catch you.

“You alright?” he asked in a soft voice.

Looking into his eyes, you felt time stop for a moment. Everything else faded away, and all you could think about was Peter. His arms wrapped around you, his soft eyes looked deep into yours, and his lips looked so… kissable. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in closer. Your eyes started to flutter shut as your lips ghosted over his. Feeling his breath against your skin was like a jolt of electricity to your entire system.

Peter breathed your name as he made no attempt to stop you, as much as he knew he should. It was the moment he had wanted for so long, and it was right in front of him. The alcohol buzzed in his system, clouding his judgment slightly, though he knew neither of you had enough to be fully drunk. You knew what you were doing, your inhibitions were just down at the moment.

Just before your lips were about to touch, though, something snapped in you and you gasped as you jumped back. “I…” you cleared your throat, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered as you closed in on yourself.

“It’s ok,” Peter rested his hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,” he waited for you to meet his gaze before he continued, “You’re ok. We’re ok.” Conflicting emotions ran through his head- Peter wanted to kiss you more than anything, but he also didn’t want you to regret kissing him. So, he pushed his own wants aside and looked after you instead, like he always did.

Somehow, you knew what Peter meant with just those words, “We’re ok,” you echoed.

Peter proved it the next night when you both came back to work. He poured you a sparkling water and one for himself, cheering you as if nothing happened the night before. You wanted to apologize again, but something in you said that he knew. And everything fell back into your usual routine again.

*

But everything changed the night Peter found you in the back, alone and crying as the bar was closing down.

Immediately, he went on alert and was ready to help you no matter what. He gasped softly as he rushed over to you and sat next to you, “Hey, hey,” he cooed softly, “What’s going on? Are you alright?” Peter hated seeing you like this.

You looked up from where you held your face in your hands, and the sad look in your eyes made Peter’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be crying at work…”

“Hey,” Peter pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I won’t judge,” he tried to make you smile.

It worked, and you gave him the brief hint of a laugh before your face dropped again, “It’s over with Flash,” you confessed, “He…” you choked back a sob, “I caught him with someone else yesterday.”

Anger flashed across Peter’s face as he tightened his grip on you and murmured your name, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. You deserve better than this… Than him…

A few more tears fell from your eyes, but you stubbornly tried to hold more back, “I shouldn’t even be that upset,” you almost sounded bitter, “Considering I almost kissed you the other day,” your voice was so hushed you weren’t sure if Peter even heard you. 

“Hey you did nothing wrong,” Peter cupped your face, “Nothing happened, and it was my fault anyway…” 

You looked into his eyes and the world stopped around you. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. All you cared about was him, and the warmth of his hands. Truthfully, you hadn’t felt the same about Flash in a long time, but you stayed with him more out of comfort than anything. At the same time, though, being cheated on definitely hurt you to your core.

“Pete…” you breathed as the whirlwind of emotions made your head spin. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your body leaning more toward him as your eyes glanced down at his lips.

Peter whispered your name as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. Everything in him told him to push you away, that you were too vulnerable right now. But, he wanted this more than anything. He wanted you. He wanted to kiss your problems away and make you feel safe. He wanted to make sure you were never hurt again, since he would never do anything to hurt you. And as Peter felt your breath against his skin, he found that he was about to give into his selfishness for once in his life.

But, before your lips connected, the door slammed open and Flash, your now ex, bellowed your name. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed at you as he stomped over, “We didn’t even officially break up and here you are about to fuck your coworker?!”

“You cheated,” Peter interjected before you could reply, “I’d say that’s pretty broken up to me,” he stood strong as he placed his body between yours and your ex. 

Flash puffed up his chest and balled his hands into fists as he approached Peter, “You think you’re tough now, nerd?” he scoffed, “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Peter replied, holding strong, “But I’m not gonna let you do anything to…” he trailed off as he felt your presence behind him. Peter could feel you start to say something, perhaps try to talk him out of putting himself in harm’s way for you, but Peter didn’t care about his own safety. He only cared about yours. 

“How cute,” Flash sneered as he shoved Peter back, making you both stumble.

Not wanting things to escalate further, you called for security, who rushed in and quickly escorted Flash out. Peter stayed in front of you, blocking the view of your ex, who was cursing and hollering as he was dragged out. You knew you heard some insults thrown at you in between the obscenities, and you couldn’t help but wince.

“Hey,” Peter turned to you once the room was clear, “You alright?” he asked as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I uhh,” you stuttered, unsure of what to even say. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed your tense muscles, “I think so,” you finally replied in a soft voice as your eyes dropped to the ground.

“Listen,” he tried to keep his own tone even for your sake, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? He can’t find you there and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your gaze snapped back up to meet Peter’s and the breath in your chest felt like it was pushed out of you. “Are… Are you sure?” you struggled to find your voice again, “I won’t want to put you out or anything…”

“You aren’t,” Peter cut you off before you could finish the thought, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

*

“Home sweet home,” Peter gestured to the small apartment with an awkward grin on his face, “It’s not much but… It’s home,” he shuffled in, closing the door behind you both and locking it tightly, “What’s mine is yours. Help yourself to anything.”

You stood in the doorway taking in the space. Peter lived in a little studio apartment. It was older, but you could tell he put a lot of care into the space. The tiny kitchen had snacks all over the counter. On the other end, there was a small desk against the window next to a little tv and refurbished couch. The bed was in the far corner next to the door to the tiny bathroom.

“Aunt May must have dropped off some things,” Peter rushed to the kitchen counters and shuffled the snacks into drawers clumsily as he chuckled, “I actually try to keep the place neat, if you could believe that.”

For the first time that night, a smile lit up your face, “It’s fine, Peter,” you stepped further into the studio and sat down on the small couch, “It’s a nice place.”

“Hey,” he crossed the room and sat down next to you, taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”

Your eyes landed on where his warm hand held yours, and once more you felt the breath knocked out of you. It felt as if a jolt of electricity ran up from where your hands were connected to your heart, making it skip a beat. Meeting his gaze again, you spoke in a more confident tone, “Thank you.”

Peter smiled back at you, “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” his tone was soft as he squeezed your hand in his.

“Peter…” you breathed as you felt yourself leaning toward him as if gravity was pulling you closer, “Call me that again? Please.”

He exhaled sharply, the smile still lighting up his face as he leaned in too, “Sweetheart…” Peter cupped your face tenderly like he did before back at the club. As he felt your breath against his face once again, Peter murmured, “Can I kiss you… sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whispered before your lips were pressed against his. 

The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it sent a jolt through both of you. Months of buildup led to this moment as you both melted into the other. Heat quickly rose in the room as you started to cling to Peter, running your hands all over his body. Peter groaned into you as he did the same and soon the kiss turned more deep, more passionate, more desperate.

You broke away from Peter, breathing heavily as you looked into his eyes. You saw the same look on his face that you knew you had on yours- the same neediness was apparent on his face. As your eyes wandered across his body, glancing down between his legs for the briefest moment, Peter murmured your name.

Meeting his gaze again, you knew the question on the tip of his tongue, “Yes,” you breathed as you jumped on him.

This time, you parted your lips for Peter immediately, and you moaned into him as you tasted him on your tongue. Passions rose as the two of you clumsily pushed yourself off the couch and made your way over to his bed, never breaking apart for long.

Something crashed as you bumped into it, but you didn’t care. And neither did Peter, who completely ignored it. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment other than you. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his wandering hands started to tug at your clothes while he shuffled your bodies over to his bed.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt his desperation, and you mirrored his actions by clawing at his shirt. The two of you only broke away from the kiss to remove clothing, not wanting to miss a second of the other. A trail of clothes led the way to Peter’s bed, and once your legs hit the corner, he grabbed you and flopped you both down.

Laughter erupted as you landed side by side on his small bed. Peter paused for a moment to cup your face, cradling it tenderly in his hand for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed before he kissed you again, maneuvering you so that he straddled you.

“Peter…”

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked, freezing in place.

“Never,” you smiled as you grabbed him and yanked him down, crashing your lips into his once more.

Peter’s laughter was muffled in your lips, but he also couldn’t help but buck his hips against yours. His cock, already hardening, rocked along your body, causing you both to gasp into the other.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes… Please, Peter,” you begged in between kisses as you rocked yourself against his body to match his rhythm.

“I can’t say no to you, sweetheart,” he smirked as he dripped his hand between your legs, “Fuck,” he breathed as he cradled your body, carefully pushing a finger into you slowly.

The moan you let out went right to Peter’s core, and he groaned as he pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding a second, “Sweetheart,” he sighed, “You’re so beautiful like this,” he stammered as he sped up his thrusts with his fingers, “I’ve thought about this for so long,” he couldn’t help but confess.

Your eyes blinked open, “Me too,” you felt the heat build under your skin and your nerves burst into flames at your own confession.

“Well let’s make it worth it then,” Peter’s signature smirk lit up his face again as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at your entrance.

“I know you will,” you replied breathlessly, “Don’t make me wait another second, Peter. I need you too bad.”

All he could do was moan in reply as he pushed himself into you. Gasps and moans filled the room as Peter filled you, connecting your bodies together for the first time. The bed creaked as he started a slow and steady rhythm, rocking in and out of you to the tune of your cries of pleasure.

Brown locks of hair fell in front of Peter’s face as he fought to keep himself hovering over you, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. But every time he thrust fully into you, Peter lost himself in how good you felt. He breathed your name as his hips stammered, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“You’re amazing, Peter,” you breathed, “Fuck…”

Emotions ran high between the two of you as skin slapped against skin. Peter picked up his pace and lost control of himself. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as he felt himself engulfed by you over and over again. Fuck, you looked perfect underneath him like this, and Peter hoped that he could see this sight over and over again.

“Peter… Right there!” you cried out when he changed his angle slightly, “Fuck Peter you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Let me see it, sweetheart,” he cooed as he intentionally hit that spot inside you over and over again, feeling your inner muscles squeeze his cock every time he did so. 

It only took a few more thrusts for you to fall apart underneath Peter, crying out his name and clinging to him tightly as you did so. Your eyes snapped shut as your mouth hung open, letting the screams and moans spill without inhibition. Your body trembled as the emotions caught up to you, and as you rode out your climax, tears started to fall from the corners of your eyes.

Peter groaned your name as he watched the display in front of him, and the emotions became too much for him too. He came without warning, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he moaned your name and spilled himself deep inside you. Peter thrusted a few more times until he had nothing else to give, and when he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, he flopped down on top of you with an exhausted huff. 

Once more, giggles erupted between you and Peter as you felt the warmth and weight of his body overtop of yours. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft tone as he cradled your face.

“Never better,” you replied.

Peter smiled at you as he slowly closed the gap between your faces, placing a soft yet heartfelt kiss on your lips as he pulled out of you. He swallowed the moan you let out, and he kept your body close to his as he made yourselves comfortable on his bed. Peter cradles you safe and secure in his arms, savoring the feeling of your warmth. It felt like a dream, but if it was, Peter didn’t want to wake up from it. And he certainly never wanted to let you go ever again.

“Just rest tonight,” Peter murmured to you, kissing the side of your head, “We’ll get your stuff from Flash’s tomorrow. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”

You just hummed contently, comfortable in his arms.

“You need anything? A snack? A drink?” he asked.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and with a smirk you replied, “How about I make you a drink this time?” your tone dropped.

Peter’s own grin beamed back at you, “I would love to see that.”