#i’ll have waited nearly a decade for it so it better be good

[thewillbyersbowlcut]

the byler kiss better be the most beautiful shot in television history. it better be well lit. well directed. well acted. well written. the costumes better be top tier. the hair better be on point. i want it to be worthy of the louvre.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 5

Part 4

Steve was pacing about the waiting room, hoping for new, good news, anything. He was alone for most of it but, eventually his mother did arrive, sitting nearby. He supposed she was trying to be supportive, even though all she did was sit and read her book. She managed to do that for about two hours before getting up and grabbing his hands.

“Worrying yourself isn’t going to help either of them. Sit down and distract yourself with something.”

“How can I distract myself? My pup and my-”

Bianca hissed him to silence. “Do you want the whole town to know how loose you are?”

“Please”, Steve rolled his eyes. “Like they don’t already know.” Chrissy knew, Tommy knew, which probably meant Carol knew, which meant everyone knew but had been playing along for the past decade. Steve didn’t know exactly who was aware of Dustin’s true parentage but keeping up appearances was what their whole town was about. 

“Better for it to be speculation and not outright conversation. You might not care about your own reputation but think about Dustin’s. Children can be cruel. He already has so many disadvantages, you think they won’t point out the fact that he’s a…”, she looked around, making sure they were alone for the moment besides the nurse at the desk ten feet away before whispering, “bastard.”

Steve wanted to argue. He wanted to shout but she was right. It didn’t matter how much he loved Eddie, how much Dustin was a product of that love. All that mattered was status. Of which, Eddie had none. If it was publicly acknowledged that Dustin was Eddie’s pup, his reputation would dip, Harrington name be damned.

Satisfied, Bianca picked up her book and adjusted her shawl. “I’m going home. If there’s no news soon, I expect you there as well. Don’t leave your husband’s bed cold.”

It wasn’t long after she left that the surgeon came to speak with Steve. He held his breath for some kind of news. Like most physicians, this one wore blockers but Steve could tell from her eyes the news wasn’t good. And just his luck, that was when Tommy arrived.

“I’m glad you’re both here”, she started with. “We’ve finished the operation, but there’s been some complications. The donor is fine, but your son hasn’t woken back up yet. Mr. Munson can go home soon, but we’ll have to keep Dustin for another night, at least.”

Tommy put an arm around Steve’s waist, playing the part of concerned husband and father, doing all the talking while Steve felt the ground drop from under him. Then, the surgeon turned to leave and he felt Tommy pull at his waist, as if the leave, and his senses returned to him.

“Can I see them? Please?”

“We’re keeping Dustin in quarantine for now, but you can see Mr. Munson in just a moment.”

Tommy frowned, turning Steve towards himself. “You can’t-”

“Yes I can”, Steve said firmly. 

He pushed Tommy’s arm off and went to where they were housing Eddie. He looked weaker, paler, but he was breathing and smiling at Steve. Steve nearly ran over, sitting on the bed and hugging him as gingerly as he could while also pressing their bodies together.

“Eddie….Dustin he-they said he-”

“I know, I know baby”, the pet name slipped from his lips as easy as breathing. “But if our boy’s anything like you, he’ll pull through. Strong just like his dad.”

Steve felt the sting of tears again. Eddie should be able to walk the streets as Dustin’s father, proud as he did anything else. They shouldn’t have to hide it. He blinked them back and sniffed, watching as Eddie’s smile turned to a scowl while his eyes slid past Steve’s shoulder. Steve followed his gaze and who else but Tommy was at the door. Steve sighed and looked back at Eddie.

“Doctor said you can come home tonight.”

“I’ll stay an extra night. Just in case anything changes with Dustin”, Eddie said.

“Eddie, you don’t have-”

“I do”, Eddie said. “‘Sides, I feel less likely to get my throat slit here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Steve nodded. “Tomorrow.” His lips ached to kiss him, his hands longed to hold him. But even if Tommy wasn’t glaring daggers into his head, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Steve stood and left with his husband, the walk out to Tommy’s car silent but he let Steve have it the minute they were inside.

“There’ll be no secret to keep if you keep on throwing yourself at him like some whore. I mean Jesus Christ Steve, do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? How do you think that looks? How do you think it makes me look?”

“We were alone in the room-”

“Which was unlocked, anyone could have walked in. Like me.”

Steve looked out the window, unable to face Tommy right now. His son was hanging by a thread and for the second time today he was being lectured on his actions and appearances. The ghost of Richard Harrington was very much alive. Tommy went on the rest of the ride home and seemed to want to continue it even as they walked inside the estate but Steve wasn’t going to let it go on forever. Especially after Tommy’s next comment.

“Think of the example you’re setting for Dustin. You should take a page out of your parents’ book and-”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare. Dustin is perfect and you’re blind if you can’t see that. And if you want me to be just like my parents, guess what? We’re already there!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“God, do you not see it?”, Steve’s voice was bordering on hysterical now. “I married someone my father picked for me, even though I was in love with someone else. A loveless marriage with no passion at all, a husband with only a passing interest in raising my son, while he goes off galavanting with some floozy I don’t know-”

“Hey!”, Tommy’s face got red suddenly and he bit his tongue, lest he say Carol’s name out loud in an attempt to defend her. “What…”, he laughed. “What makes you think I’m going out with some…floozy?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen. He needed something in his stomach before he crashed. When Tommy followed, he decided to answer. “I told you, we’re literally living the same lives as our parents. And I happen to know my father cheated on my mother twice. And those are just the times that I know.” He went into the fridge and saw that a plate had been wrapped for him, bless Scott.

“So just because of that, you think I’m cheating on you? You think I’d do that to you?”

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that we haven’t had sex in years. And I know you haven’t been celibate that whole time.” Steve put the plate in the microwave.

“So you’re the same?” Tommy moved closer to Steve, crowding him against the counter. “Have you been running around on me? Pretty convenient that Munson shows up at your beck and call so easily.”

Steve slapped Tommy across the face. “How…dare you?”, he hissed. “I’ve never-I would NEVER! You think I’d just throw away everything just to sleep with someone?”

“Not just anyone. I know that Munson’s not just anyone to you.”

“But this marriage means something to me”, Steve said. “And Dustin means everything to me. So no, I’m not going to have our dirty laundry out in the street just for a fling.” His gaze turned hard. “So I really hope you’re not doing the same.”

“I’m not”, Tommy said. “I promise I’m not.” He grabbed Steve’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “I only have eyes for you, Stevie.”

Steve held his gaze. He wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that Tommy wasn’t going out and sleeping with someone else. He didn’t have any proof besides this feeling, this sense that the only reason Tommy hadn’t forced himself onto him was because he was getting it somewhere else. He sighed and his shoulders sagged.

“Go to bed. I’ll be up once I eat.”

Tommy nodded and left him there. Steve wished he had someone to talk to about this. But the only one he could think of was Chrissy and for obvious reasons, he couldn’t speak with her. Steve ate, then went to bed, but had a very restless sleep. When the phone rang the next morning, he hopped out of bed to answer it. With each second he felt lighter and lighter. He didn’t even hear Tommy wake up as he sped through getting dressed. 

And then he was out the door, on the way to the hospital.

Steve didn’t even try to hide his tears when Dustin was brought out in a wheelchair. Eddie too, mostly just so they could match even more.

“Dad, chill out, they just won’t let me leave on my own legs. I didn’t like, become paralyzed”, Dustin said.

“No, I know, I know I just-” Steve paused to wipe his tears as he knelt down to hug his son. Eddie had a hand on both Steve’s shoulder and Dustin’s.

It was a touching scene for those who witnessed it. Which included one very gossipy nurse, and he told his girlfriend on his lunch break, who told her hairdresser later that same day, who also happened to do Carol’s hair. So she knew about Dustin’s condition before she met with Tommy at their usual room at the inn.

“Remember, this is what we wanted”, she said as she poured them both drinks. “He’s in perfect health, so that condition of the will is fulfilled.”

“Now comes the hard part”, Tommy said, accepting the crystal tumbler from her. He took a long sip as he looked out the window. In the dark, you couldn’t see but a few lights on the other side of the treeline.

“What’s so hard about it? They could get lost on a hike, slide off the road, we could even hire some goons to take them out during a breaking and entering”, Carol said, swirling her glass.

Tommy lit up a cigarette then, opening the window just slightly. “You think we can get away with it that easily?”

Carol’s eyes narrowed. “I think it’s too late to back out. Not after what you promised me. And think of the life we could have after. No one to hold you back. Not Steve, not that pup of his, not even Madame Bianca Harrington can tell you what to do.”

Tommy chuckle-snorted. “You hate her too?”

“She annoys me. It’s Chrissy I hate. Little goody-two shoes, thinks she’s better than everyone else. Speaking of little prisses, you’ll never guess who’s back in town.”

“Who?”

“Nancy Wheeler and her pathetic husband”, Carol plopped down onto the bed, only just managing not to spill.

Tommy took a drag and blew it out the window. “It’s like a parade of Steve’s exes.”

“And you’ll never guess what I heard about them~”, Carol said in a sing-song voice.

Tommy put out his cigarette. “You remember I don’t come here to hear you yap all night, right?”

“Trust me, you’ll wanna hear this...”

-------------------

Dustin chomped down on a burger. The color was already returning to both him and Eddie’s faces. But that might’ve just been the warm lighting of the restaurant they were in. 

“Just for the record, this doesn’t count as one of our weekly dinners”, Eddie said after swallowing a mouthful of fries.

“Weekly what?”, Dustin asked, although he didn’t swallow, so it came out more like ‘mwekle mwhat?’

“Swallow, don’t talk with your mouth full”, Steve reminded him. “And he’s going to be having dinner at our house once a week. And every other weekend, you’ll stay with him.”

“That’s…awesome!”, Dustin beamed.

“I figured you’d be up for it”, Eddie said. “You seem like the coolest guy in town. Minus yours truly. And your dad of course”, he winked at Steve.

The warmth blooming in Steve’s chest was doused the moment Dustin spoke up.

“My dad? Cool? No way!”

Eddie grinned. “Oh I could tell you stories-”, he paused when Steve cleared his throat loudly. “Age appropriate stories.”

“But you have to eat first”, Steve reminded him. “You can’t get that mountain of ice cream until you finish.”

It was a nice moment of calm before the storm came rolling in.

Part 6

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 21

Hello! We're back with more Royal Pain. For the person(s) that thought the kiss meant the nearing of the end of the story: NOPE! We still have a bit to get through plot wise. Plus I don't usually go through past them getting together, and wanted to explore that a little before the end.

Also, where have my commenters gone? I used to get 10 or so comments a post and the last part of "Well Met By Moonlight" only had one. My usual commenters just didn't. If I have suggested in anyway that I don't like comments or don't appreciate them, know that I really, really do! And I miss it when people who used comment don't anymore. I'm not going to name names because this isn't a callout post, just a concern, I guess.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Today we have a replay reaction to the kiss by the Royal Pain crew, Wayne being wise (and mention of a ring that has always been a thing in the story, I just forgot to put it in before this oops!) and Chrissy getting some advice.

***

To say that Steve was practically squealing from joy when he got to his car would be an understatement. He put his bluetooth earpiece in his right ear and immediately called Robin.

“Are you okay?” she asked as soon as she picked up.

“Eddie kissed me!” he giggled excitedly.

“No fucking way!” she gasped.

“Not yet anyway,” he said slyly, pulling into traffic.

“Steven Joseph Harrington!” Robin squeaked. “You don’t get to make dirty puns like that unless I’m in hitting distance.”

Steve laughed. “Joseph isn’t my middle name.”

He could hear her snap her fingers. “I’ll guess it eventually.”

“It’s been nearly a decade and you still haven’t guessed it,” he reminded her. “I can make it harder though...”

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed. There was silence for a moment. “You can’t make it harder, can you?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I can actually, but you told me not to.”

He could feel her narrow her eyes from across town as she weighed her options.

“Go ahead,” she said haughtily. “I don’t think you can.”

Steve grinned. “I have two middle names and you’ve never guessed either one.”

“You do not!” Robin hissed. “There is no way!”

“My parents were super traditional,” he told her. “My middle names come from each of my grandfathers.”

“Oh my god,” she said, “that makes so much sense.”

Steve licked his lips and waited. Five, four, three, two–

“Don’t you change the subject, Steven!” Robin came back. “Eddie kissed you.”

“He did indeed,” Steve said, “and I will tell you all about it when I get back to the shop. I’m like three minutes away.”

“I want to know everything!”

“I promise.”

*

Steve got to the shop and everyone was standing around the front counter, chins propped up on their hands, blinking at him expectantly.

He shook his head. “Menaces, the lot of you.”

Erica batted her eyelashes. “Yeah, but you like menaces.”

Steve tilted his head to the side and then nodded. “Yeah, yeah. But first I have to tell about my lunch with Wayne.”

Erica and Chrissy groaned, pushing off the counter and rolling their eyes. Robin and Argyle stayed in position though.

“Trust me,” Steve said holding his hands up, “it’s relevant to the story.”

“This better be good, Harrington,” Chrissy snarked.

“Oh it will be,” he said with a smile, “I promise.”

He started telling them everything. Wayne’s approval, the confrontation with Quinn, Eddie coming to the rescue, the kiss.

“Lunch was definitely relevant, dude,” Argyle said. “Getting parental approval is super important in a relationship. Especially if they’re close.”

Steve nodded. “So does the story live up the hype?” he asked the girls.

Robin rolled her eyes. “I suppose.”

Chrissy giggled. “It was so cute, Stevie. I’m happy for you!”

Steve waited for Erica, who sat there tapping her lips for a moment. She cocked her head. “Ehhh...it was all right.”

Everyone protested, talking over each other.

She burst out laughing. “God, you guys so easy. Of course it was awesome. Super sweet, too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something when the bell over the door sounded, announcing the arrival of his next client.

He turned to greet them as everyone but Robin scattered. As much as he would love to gossip about his newly minted love life, he had clients that wanted tattoos.

*

Eddie kept licking his lips the whole way to his apartment.

“What made you change your mind?” Wayne asked. “About dating Steve? Him saying ‘I love you’?”

Eddie bit his lip and shook his head. “I had made the decision before that. It was just with Seth stalking me, I didn’t want to get Steve hurt if Seth thought we were together.”

Wayne nodded. “If Seth would threaten Steve over being your friend and tattoo artist, I shudder to think what he would have done if your relationship was more serious.”

“In fact I was going to tell him before Seth threatened him,” Eddie said with a sigh. “We had plans to have dinner at his place and I was going to tell him then.”

“But then Seth showed up?” Wayne asked.

Eddie nodded. “And then that night, I was going to at least let him know that after the whole thing with Seth got resolved, I was going to kiss the hell out him, but that didn’t work out either.”

Wayne tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“That was the night he ran into an ex,” Eddie explained. “The ex. The one that broke his heart. Found out a whole bunch of other shit that night, too. I spent most of the night trying to console him.”

“So the stars finally aligned today, then?” Wayne asked.

“About god damned time, too,” Eddie agreed fiercely.

Wayne hummed. “He’s good for ya, Ed. I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a long time. Even when Seth was breathing down your neck, you were more solid. You had your friends, but with Steve standing beside you, you looked like you could handle whatever the world threw at you as long as you had him.”

Eddie blushed, annoyed that driving kept him from ducking his head or shoving hair in his mouth to cover the flush on his cheeks. “He makes me feel brave, because he’s been through shit too and he’s still standing. Still moving forward each day. I love that about him.”

“Good.”

They drove the rest of the trip in silence. When they got back to the apartment they chatted as Eddie helped Wayne pack for his journey back to Hawkins.

“I want to see you both come Labor Day,” Wayne growled. “No excuses, you hear?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, sir.” He gave him a jaunty salute.

It looked absolutely ridiculous coming from a long haired metalhead and Wayne’s snort cinched it.

Eddie grinned but gave him a gentle shove. “Steve wasn’t lying when he said that was the plan, by the way. We had been talking about taking him down to meet you since the first week of us becoming friends.”

Wayne nodded sagely. “I understand that he’s not close with his parents.”

“It was big ole mess,” Eddie said softly. “His parents are very recently divorced, like it was finalized last month, recent.”

Wayne hummed. “I remember you saying something about that,” he said. “At least you had an uncle who cared when your parents decided to be shit, it doesn’t seem like Steve had that option.”

“He was close to his grandpa though,” Eddie murmured. “On his mom’s side. He was really broken up when the man died.”

Wayne zipped up his suitcase. “How old was Steve?”

Eddie shrugged. “Young. Eight or nine. His grandfather got cancer before his mom met his dad. His grandpa had struggled with the disease before it finally took him. Steve said that it had ravaged so much of his body that his death certificate was like a laundry list of possible causes of death. Heart failure, kidney failure, cancer...you name it, it was probably on the damn thing.”

“That ring he wears all the time,” Wayne asked, “that his grandfather’s?”

Eddie nodded. “His dad tried to take it for years, saying it inappropriate to leave to a little boy.”

“Only he wasn’t going to stay a little boy forever,” Wayne said. “I guessing that since he still has it, his mom interfered?”

“Maureen Harrington wasn’t going to be winning any best mom awards at any point in Steve’s life,” Eddie scoffed, “but she did do some shit and hiding that ring was one of them.”

“I’m glad he had someone looking out for him,” Wayne said. “I’m sorry it wasn’t all the time. But he at least had something some of the time.”

“He’s not jealous of me or Robin,” Eddie said, “Or anyone of his friends that have a good home life. He’s happy with his found family. He loves them as though they are blood.”

Wayne smiled. “I’m happy for you, Ed. You’ve got something real special with Steve.”

Eddie blushed. “I love him.”

“I think the whole world knows it’s mutual at this point,” Wayne said with a small shake of his head.

Eddie just grinned.

*

Steve grinned as Chrissy wandered out of her room for the third time today. The first time was that she forgot her purse in her car. The second time it was because she had a question for Robin (completely made up and not something that was essential at all to her job). The third time it was because she wanted to ask Robin if she wanted anything from the deli on the corner for lunch.

Could you tell that Vickie was being trained by Robin today?

Vickie put her hand on Robin’s arm to get her to slow down in her nervous and very rapid fire explanation of the phone system and Steve thought Chrissy was going to explode.

Chrissy was wearing a pink blouse with spaghetti straps and white lacy cardigan over the tightest jeans Steve had ever seen and he’s been to a lot of Corroded Coffin shows. Her hair was up in an artfully messy ponytail and her makeup was tasteful and very pink.

Steve was just grateful she hadn’t paired the outfit with anything high heeled and instead chose white ballet flats. He was always worried someone was going to sprain their ankles in high heels walking on their hardwood floors.

He winced as Chrissy’s poor attempt at flirting fell flat.

“Oh,” Robin said, “Steve already ordered him and me Chinese, sorry.”

“I’d love something though,” Vickie said brightly. “Do they have a turkey club?”

Chrissy sputtered for a moment before she nodded meekly. “Yeah.”

“Great!” Vickie continued. “Just let me know how much and I’ll wire you the funds.”

Chrissy nodded again and with a squeak, dashed back into her room. Steve watched as Vickie’s smile turned knowing.

He shook his head and went to go talk to his apprentice.

“Someone’s got a crush,” he said, leaning against the door frame, with his arms folded.

Chrissy threw her arms in the air. “At least you noticed. I don’t think she has.”

Steve chuckled and made his way over to her, swinging the door shut behind him.

“I love her,” he said sitting down on her client lounger, “but she absolutely loses her head when a pretty girl is around. Gay, straight, bi. Doesn’t matter she becomes an absolute mess.”

“I’ve noticed,” Chrissy said bitterly. She thought about Vickie and Mandy and how Robin was just goo around them.

He hummed, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “Here’s the thing though, you are one hundred percent ahead of the game compared to the other two girls.”

Chrissy scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

Steve grinned. “Mandy has a boyfriend, soon to be fiance and Vickie could be bisexual. But she could also be straight. Robin knows you’re a lesbian. You have the advantage of her knowing where she stands with you.”

Chrissy blinked. “Oh.”

“You want to get the girl?” Steve asked. She nodded. “Then you’ve got to step up your game. Time to woo her and not just flirt with her.”

Chrissy chewed on her lip. “But how do I do that?”

Steve shook his head. “Well for starters, paying attention. Robin and I always get Chinese on Fridays.”

She blinked for a moment, pulled out her phone and then the light bulb went off above her head. “Oops.”

“Yeah...”

She took a deep breath. “Do you think I have a chance?”

“She thinks the cheerleading thing is scary hot, so...”

Chrissy grinned. “It’s short skirt, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “And the cute little socks.”

Chrissy laughed. “Can’t forget those.”

He turned to walk away, but she stopped him. “Thanks for this, Steve. I know you didn’t have to.”

Steve just smiled softly and then walked out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Thoughts on how to get the girl of her dreams.

***

Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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[mara-tevith-solo]

One Enchanted Evening

Just a little Adam Warlock fluff. This MFer restarted my Will Poulter era and I stg... man’s too good for this world

Pairing: Adam Warlock x Ex-Avenger/ Guardian!Reader

Warnings: It’s fluff, mentions of drinking, Blurp being adorable, flirting, established relationship, making out

Rating: 18+

Words: 1.1k+

"C'mon Y/n! Let's go get pretty boy wasted for the first time! Drax, Nebula, and some of the others will be there!" Rocket called from the front door, sounding way too enthused with his little side quest as Adam smiled brightly, and innocently, beside him.

"I can't, I have to take over for Ullette tomorrow; her daughter is coming for a visit." You apologized with a breathy laugh, shaking your head at the two. "Don't poison yourself, Rocket. I'm betting a quarter mil that his alcohol tolerance is about as good as Steve's."  

"I'll take you up on that bet!" He laughed with pride and little foresight.

"Who's Steve?" Adam asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. There wasn't any jealousy there, just pure curiosity.

"He was one of Y/n's Super Soldier Earth pals, worked on the same team together for over a decade, stopped the world from ending a few times, we all reversed the Snap together about three years back. Good guy. Was hung up on a broad he used to know."

"What's a broad?"

"Its a term for a woman, though it's not so respectful. Y'all better get going before Drax pre-games too hard."  

"Alright alright, I'll keep lover boy out of trouble, swearsies."

Adam shifted on his feet, looking at Rocket's retreating form before looking at you like a puppy who didn't know which way to go. You placed your hands on his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt soft under your palms as you raised up onto your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek "Don't let them drink too much. Last time a challenge like this happened, Drax had to have his stomach pumped."

"Should I be worried? Because I'd be more than happy to just stay home with you and we could finish that show and--"

"It'll be fine, Adam. Go have fun with the others. I'll still be here when you come back." You smiled teasingly before pushing him the rest of the way out the door, Rocket's crossed arms and exasperated expression in your peripherals, shaking his head at the two of you.

"Don't have too much fun without me." He finally conceded with a cheeky wink before turning and making to leave with the Raccoon.

As soon as the door closed, Blurp let out a soft little whine, making you turn back towards him with a small pout that turned into a frown as soon as you saw the sadness on his little face, the worry in his eyes that was always there whenever Adam left without him. You swooped up the little fuzzball and nuzzled your face against his "Oh, come on fluff, you can help me make some ice cream sundaes for us." You hummed as you began dancing to a phantom melody only you could hear, his eager agreements nearly busting him loose from your arms. You laughed as you set him on the counter, motioning for him to sit and stay while you went for ingredients.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had done the late night treat, the F'saki watching as you began making two bowls, his topped with Orloni jerky with strawberry sauce while yours was just a simple vanilla with hot fudge sauce. He was vibrating with anticipation as you picked up both bowls and began leading the charge back to the living room, being careful to not trip you on the way. He'd done it once, and only once. He'd gotten too excited and had zipped over your foot while you were beginning to take a step, resulting in you faceplanting into the hard wood covered cement floors, breaking your nose in the process. He'd felt so bad about it, and hadn't zipped anywhere near your feet since. He sat by the couch, tall and pretty as he waited for you to put his bowl down "There ya go, buddy. Enjoy!" You giggled softly as he dug in with a happy chirp. You curled up on the couch to enjoy yours. Afterwards, you didn't bother with the dishes, suddenly too exhausted, laying down just a bit to nap until Adam returned. Blurp was all too happy to join you, cuddling up on your stomach with happy little purrs, falling asleep well before you did.

"Y/n!" Adam's whispered shout pulled you out of a light doze, still curled up on the couch with Blurp, an excited Adam leaning over you both. Blurp didn't even flinch, just grumbling softly in his sleep as he curled up tighter, much like a sleepy, disgruntled cat. "Sorry!" He giggled, still whisper shouting "I figured it out!"

"Figured what out, handsome?" You hummed groggily, smiling sleepily up at the golden man who was smiling ear to ear at the endearment, a dreamy gleam in his eyes.

"Drax helped me figure out why my chest burns whenever I think of you... and when I'm around you... when we're apart... any time you're even mentioned really. He said that's how he felt about his Ovette. He called it 'love'." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing where the conversation was going. "He said that I need to make sure you know how I feel about you, that you never doubt how much I love you. And then he cried... a lot... he's very drunk..."

Your heart felt like it was soaring as you reached up and cupped his cheek, your fingers then moving to trace his jawline and his chin. He moved down with you, like he didn't want you to stop touching him, an intoxicated warmth to his eyes that wasn't from the liquor. When your lips touched you could swear it was unlike any kiss before, it was electrifying to your very core, your very soul. It made your breath stutter as one of his hands planted firmly on the couch by your shoulder as the other gripped your hip. "I love you too, Adam." You murmured against his lips, your voice feather light, just for his ears. His kiss became hungry, devouring everything that you gave him like a man starved, some of his hair falling into your face, the tickling sensation making your toes curl and your heart splutter.

He almost closed the distance between you, but Blurp squeaked in protest on your stomach, almost pouting up at him like you'd both mortally betrayed him "Sorry Blurp. But I need to borrow my love." He was gentle as he picked up the F'saki, usurping him of his position. The fuzzy being only huffed and went to steal your bed. Adam didn't give you a moment to laugh at the situation, swallowing the sound eagerly as his tongue begged for entrance, his hard length making its presence well known against your thigh. He moaned loudly as your tongue came out to play with his, your hips bucking up into him, begging for friction "Y/n, oh gods." He moaned, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck.  

[severusloveslily]

potions & parchment || snamione AU

Severus stalked back into Hogwarts, a scowl on his face. He had just made the always lovely trek to the Ministry and had, yet again, been thwarted by the dunderheads that make up their government. 

Since the Dark Lord’s downfall, he had spent a year or so recovering from his injuries. He was still trying to work out the odds of how the hell he’d managed to survive. Despite his best efforts, he was still alive, so he decided he ought to at least try and enjoy his freedom. Following his recovery, he dusted off many of his stalled research projects and had gone to work. Nearly a decade later, he was ready to present them to the Ministry. 

However, he was hitting roadblocks at every bloody turn. Though he’d been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, they still didn’t particularly like ex-Death Eaters. He couldn’t say he blamed them, but it was frustrating. He didn’t want to be stuck teaching for the rest of his life. It was a means to an end at this point. 

“Severus?”

The man stopped and turned to see his boss, Minerva McGonagall, approaching him. He waited for her to catch up, before he continued walking. “I’m not in the mood right now, Minerva.”

“How did the meeting go?” she asked. “Not well?”

“You astound me with your deduction skills,” he muttered. “I want to be alone.”

“Why did they turn you down?” she pressed, struggling to keep up with his long stride. 

“You know why, Minerva,” Severus drawled. “In any case, I suppose I’ll just have to fund my projects personally. It will take much longer, but... one day, perhaps I’ll get there. Unless someone else beats me to it,” he muttered. He was trying to develop a serum to numb the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Though the Dark Lord was gone, his followers remained, and there were still people recovering from the war. It would also help Aurors on their mission. 

He had also tweaked his Wolfsbane recipe and he found it was more effective than the one before. Though he wasn’t fond of Remus Lupin, it opened his eyes to the horribly lonely world of people stricken with lycanthropy. He was trying to help. 

“You know,” McGonagall started, “Hermione will be here for her semi-annual visit next week. Why don’t you speak to her about it? That could be your way in. If you get the Minister for Magic on your side, they can’t say no. Right?”

Severus stopped walking and pondered that. He’d rather rip his hair out than ask a third of the Golden Trio for help, but he had his back against the wall at this point. “Perhaps,” he murmured. It wasn’t a bad idea, but she never really came to speak to him anyway. She hardly even observed him when she was here. He was glad she was taking such a proactive approach to the school, no other minister in his memory had done that. She was doing the world of good for their society, and fit the job to a tee. The country was better off with her at the helm. 

[fictionkinfessions]

I miss Annabeth so much it physically pains me. She was one of my best friends, even after we broke up (we were not a good pair, easier to admit that now than it was in the past); I relied so much on her for… gods, nearly everything that sometimes I have to sit down and ask myself “what would she do? What advice would she give me?” and sometimes that… doesn’t make it better. I’ve been here for over a decade at this point and haven’t been able to find her, which has got to be some sick prank played on me by the gods. I’ll keep trying, of course, I’ll never stop looking for here, but it gets so unbearably hard sometimes.

Same with Grover, I miss that goat so much. I try to be more eco-friendly and conscious on what I give and take from nature for him. I know it’s small, but some part of me thinks he’d be happy to know I took all his rants and raves to heart, that I listened and really took in what he was saying; not a lot of people wanted to do that, but he was usually right. He was my other bestfriend, carried me and had my back through so much that it’s baffling to think I haven’t spoken to him once in this life. I reread our source and have to shake off tears because of how much I miss him at times, as embarrassing as it is to admit that.

It’s been harder with the live action and all the news surrounding that, especially because of how much Leah and Aryan look like them, sound like them, act like them— I mean, they’ve got their mannerisms down almost perfectly. Wherever they both are, I hope they’re okay. I hope life is treating them kindly and they’re able to do things they wanted to before but either never got around to or were unable to. I hope they’re happy. I hope they know I miss them, that still love them with every inch of my watery being, and that I’ll never stop waiting for them to come home. — Percy Jackson (fictive) (#🔱☀️)

x

[themareverine]

tw religious themes, angst, reflection

It’s December 23rd. I turned 30 on Thursday.

Wow.

A decade ago I was still in college. On the cusp of deciding who I would become, who I was. You don't feel that way when you're 20; there's a deep relief of being out of your teens and finally being an "adult" that, with it, comes the expectation of respect and knowledge. How naive that is, thinking life just somehow downloads. It doesn't.

Then, I dreamed of doing film (still do) and had no idea where life would take me. I loved Jesus, but was nowhere near where I needed to be at His feet. I loved my parents, but wanted so desperately to fly into freedom. I harbored deep hatred toward myself; my body, my personality, who I was. My confidence was in shambles.

Ten years ago, I would be appalled where I am standing right now at 30.

God grabbed a hold of me differently in my 20s and routed me on a path I have fought hard to love and desire. I am embracing new callings and words from the Lord, letting old things go and wrestling with old dreams that I, now, much older, realize were fantasy. I have done things and lived in a way I never imagined. I've done so much of what I never thought, so little of what I ever desired, that my perspectives and interests have changed. And that is a good thing.

I have learned as my birthday has come and gone that life is not nearly so much about expectations and dreams as it is learning who you are, and accepting who God desires for you to be. It's much easier chasing what Jesus has for you, working in tandem than it is to fight the systems of heaven. Dreams evolve and bury, but God and His will for us, it doesn't change. It takes time. And waiting for time isn't nearly as bad as we think it is, it's just difficult.

My prayer at 20 was to figure out who I was and make a name for myself. That, arguably, may or may not have happened. I certainly didn't figure out nearly everything I thought I should, what I wanted, but I figured out other things. My prayer for my 30s, now, is to step farther into what God has planned. To worry less and praise more. To fight my battles in worship and faith, not fear and anxiety and self loathing.

Life is so fleeting in the scope of the everlasting. I could grieve over the years I wasted hated myself and hating being alive because of pain and disappointments, but instead, I know those days happened for a reason: so I could be where I am now, for other people. It wasn't about me. It was about my story, my testament, what I would overcome.

My celebration of all of this is mostly inward. I worked my new job in a new milestone career on Thursday. Suffering with a foot injury means I move slower, right now, which is both good and a bummer. I worked out, had a weekend preparing for Christmas/Hanukkah with family and giving back. Sunday I went to dinner with my family, had my favorite dessert, and opened gifts from my family, which included a stunning citrine stone and diamonds. Three diamonds, for the three persons of the Godhead, and also my 30s; a citrine stone because my favorite color is yellow and to remember to be happy with this journey.

As someone reminded me on my day, I am blessed and highly favored. I am new in His righteousness. I am no longer my own, but I am His, purchased with a high price.

It is good to remember, friends. But it’s even better to forget. I’m still working on letting go and forgetting the old things. The old Miriam. The old days of being lost and worried and unhappy. Embracing the new me is my mission, who God desires me to be.

I’ll try to post the full scope of my thoughts in story.

Here’s to the next decade, and what comes with the 30s.

and yes i did take some noir selfies of myself that i actually love. i haven't selfied in a long time. wearing one of my favorite things (a black blazer that makes me feel like a powerhouse) coupled with a good hair day all just cocktailed together don't judge me!

[neonblessing]

6.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

Shiv pocketed the phone, then reached out and took Ornarch’s withered hand. “I’ll do it.”

Her god smiled. “I knew I could count on you.” With a twist of his long, thin fingers, a sleek black card appeared and found its way between her fingers. “Twenty thousand credits.”

Shiv nearly dropped the card in surprise. “Twenty thousand?!” The payout for picking a pocket was three digits at the highest: cards would be canceled long before they could be used, and there was always the risk that the mark might have augments or trackers. B&E paid better, but you needed to find a fence who could break into stolen electronics, and they were almost universally scum. The shit she and Raz had looted on the botched job could have been worth a hundred grand, even after a steep cut from both Ornarch and a middleman, but that had taken weeks of planning and cost her an arm. Twenty thousand up front was unthinkable.

Ornarch waved a hand dismissively, rings glinting in the industrial glare. “Grease some palms, hire some muscle, buy a gun. Whatever makes the job easier.”

“Thank you, lord.” She hesitated a moment, realizing she had no idea where to start looking. “Do you have any leads?”

“How were Raz’s finances?”

“About as broke as me, I think. Those implants cost a lot.”

“So they’d need to sell off some of the haul to get away from here. They aren’t safe in the Diluvian, and fare out of here is pricey.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Wonderful.”

“Any idea as to why they did it?”

“No. No clue.” She almost choked on the words. That was the worst part, the bit that kept her up at night. What could have been so important that they’d just leave her?

“Ah well. Good luck, Shiv.” The dismissal, unspoken, was irrefutable. She would do what he wanted, he would give her what she wanted. The conversation was over. For all his immortality, Ornarch was not a patient god.

Shiv turned to leave, the roar of water rushing up to meet her as she approached the exit of the pipe. Could she even kill them? In a fistfight, even down an arm, definitely. Guns were a toss-up given that neither of them knew how to shoot. But of course, Raz was a skulljack, and a good one at that.

Skulljack. It was a dirty word, the worst kind of mage. Raz’s brilliant blue undercut hid dozens of neurocranial implants–translators and antennae and arcane batteries–all bent towards one terrible purpose: the subjugation of the will. In that dingy waiting room before their first operation, she’d told them not to do it, but she’d come to rely on their skills in the years since: skulljacking took too long to be useful in a fight, but it was priceless in an interrogation.

Of course, skulljacking was easier the better you knew someone, and they’d grown up together. Over a decade and a half, she and Raz had bared every last rotten secret–had aired out every scrap of encryption around their souls. They promised they’d never fuck with her, but would she know if they had? Even if they hadn’t, how long could she hold out against someone who knew her first crush, all her fears, and everything she’d ever dreamt of?

As she climbed the stairs back to street level, her nervous thoughts sublimated into a mantra, repeated with every step. 

I’m not who I was a month ago. That woman could never imagine killing them. I can.

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

[spaceorphan18]

5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Two)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

Btw - for this one, I reference one of my other fics - With Every Broken Bone. You don't need to have read it or anything - but if you're wondering where I pulled the idea that Kurt had a one-night stand, that's where.

****

Conversation Two: Elliott

Kurt finishes the rest of his bagel and throws the paper wrapper into a nearby trash can.  He still has a full cup of coffee to enjoy, and even though the stand’s regular roast is a bit bland, he’ll still take all the cheap coffee he can get in a day.  

“You’re late,” Kurt says as he sips from the styrofoam cup.  It’s nearly eleven and he does have lunch plans, but he and Elliott have been taking a Saturday morning walk in Central Park for half a decade now, and Kurt isn’t one to change his routine so easily.  

“Yeah, I know, I know…” Elliott looks a little haggard.  Despite the spring sun shining around them, Elliott’s lacking his usual energetic demeanor.  “This guy I hooked up with didn’t want to leave the apartment.  He kept wanting to snuggle.” 

“Oh, the horror,” Kurt deadpans.  He motions to the stand but Elliott brushes it off, not seeming interested despite having the knowledge that this little food cart has the best cream cheese in the park.  Instead, they start down their usual path.  

“Yeah, and then he spent an hour telling me about his antique birdhouse collection,” Elliott says.  “I mean, you do you and everything, but I’ve got places to be.” 

“Why did you even pick this guy?” 

“Kurt, seriously…” Elliott stops them in their tracks a moment, and waits until an older woman walking her dog passes by.  “He had the most beautiful cock that I have ever seen.  I thought, when he sent me a pic, that he had doctored it somehow. But nope - good god, it was a work of art.  Okay, why the look?” 

“C’mon,” Kurt shrugs a little as they pick up walking again.  “Let’s not kid ourselves.  I may be fond of them, but the penis, by design, is hardly a work of art.” 

“This guy’s was.” 

“Fine, let’s say it was.  Did you really think the most artistically designed dick was really going to be attached to the world’s most perfect human specimen?” Kurt asks.  

“You know, you can judge me all you want - and, sure we only had, like, a sixty-seven percent match on the app,” Elliott continues.  “But I got to play with the most beautiful cock, possibly, in North America.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes a little, as he shakes his head.  All these stories seem to run the same after awhile, and it’s times like these, he’s glad he’s married and settled.  “Well, maybe next time you should downgrade a little and try a dick attached to a personality that better suits you.” 

Elliott eyes him sharply.  “It’s not like I’m expecting you to understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

Elliott plays it coy a little, which is unlike him.  “The allure of just wanting to enjoy a beautiful cock for what it is.” 

Kurt snaps his head abruptly. “I’ll have you know that Blaine has a--” 

Elliott holds up his hand to stop him.  “I have no doubt that whatever Blaine has is lovely.  But Kurt, how many actual pensises have you seen in real life?” 

Kurt scrunches his nose.  “More than I’ve ever asked for.  I’ve seen yours.” 

Elliott grumbles.  “Yeah, cause you don’t know how to knock before entering a room.  No, I mean, how many have you seen actually up close? Two?” 

“It’s been more than two,” Kurt says defensively. 

“Has it?” 

Kurt grumbles into his coffee, wondering why numbers are even important.  “Fine, if we’re really going to go there… I mean, Blaine, obviously.  Myself.”

“You can’t count yourself.” 

“Ug, alright, well when Blaine and I broke up the first time I dated this British guy named Adam.”

“Oh god, you would date a British guy,” Elliott chuckled.  “Did he also have a tattoo of the queen on his thing?” 

“No,” Kurt shot back.  “He was really pale though.” He slowed his walk to think about it further.  “There was that one-night stand I had the summer after I called off the engagement.  But, you know, I can’t even remember it all that well.” 

“What about that dude who was older than your dad?” Elliott asks, wiggling his eyebrows as if it was a scandalous secret Kurt had kept all these years.

“Oh my god - I had forgotten about Walter…” Kurt replies.  That had barely been a thing. “Yeah, we may have messed around a little.  You know, his dick was much nicer than you’d expect.  But my god, he did not know what to do with it.  I honestly felt really bad for his ex-wife.”

“And…if my calculations are right, that’d bring us back to Blaine, so unless there’s a threesome in there that I don’t know about that brings your total to five.” 

Kurt continues to sip his coffee, still mulling it over.  “I mean…there was the one time I had to do a sex scene in a play, and I caught more than my fair share of my scene partner’s junk.  But he had some weird stuff going on under the hood, so probably not even worth mentioning.  I mean, like, weird piercings weird.” 

“Ew.” 

“I know.” 

“So, there we have it,” Elliott says. He holds his hands out wide, as if some great conclusion had been stumbled upon.  “My point stands.” 

“There was a point to this?”

“What I’m saying is this,” Elliot says.  “You’ve tried, like, five flavors of ice cream and decided you were done when there’s a vast array of ice cream flavors just waiting to be tasted.  And, sure, some may leave you bloated and gross and won’t shut up about endangered birds of North America but my god it was worth it while you were eating it.” 

“Why do people always use ice cream when making their sex metaphors?” 

“Who doesn’t love ice cream?” 

“Lesbians, probably.”

“It’s a multipurpose metaphor, Kurt, and you’re intentionally getting off topic.” 

“I just think it’s a ridiculous point,” Kurt says, a layer of irritation in his voice.  How is this a conversation they even ended up having?  “Have you ever stopped to think about quality over quantity? How many guys, on average, do you think you pick up a week?” 

Elliott thinks it over.  “I don’t know, maybe one or two on a good week.”  

“Wow - I didn’t realize it was that many.” 

“You’re being judgy again, Kurt…”

“Anyway…” Kurt says, with a long gulp of his coffee - lamenting that he’s almost done with the cup. “On average, I’d say Blaine and I mess around three or four times a week.  So, comparatively, I’m having my expensive, always satisfying sweet treat twice as often and always at my disposal while you scrounge around trying to engorge yourself on any freezer burned dessert in a decently wrapped package, trying to trick yourself into thinking that the ice cream sandwich stuck at the bottom is marginally better because it has that chocolate cookie included, but once you try it, it’s not nearly as edible as it initially looked. Well, you can keep your most likely chemically encrusted, cheap ice cream.  I want my gourmet vanilla with caramel sauce every time. ” 

Elliott remains quiet for a long beat.  “I think you killed the metaphor.” 

“Well, it was your metaphor,” Kurt shoots back.  “Besides, would you have preferred me to say that my husband might not be breaking the art world with his cock but his is the most beautiful to me and I would rather be fucked by that than by anything else?” 

Elliott lets out a hearty laugh. “Kurt, I love it when you're poetically crude."

Kurt grumbles again as he tosses the empty coffee cup into a trash can on the side of the path.  “And for the record, there’s nothing wrong with liking birds.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Nothing - Don’t worry about it.”

[jodilin65]

I’m going to work on this entry little by little because I’m just not feeling well. I still don’t know if I have COVID, a cold, or if my allergies and asthma have simply gone haywire. I still feel like I have something, and I do hope that’s the case because then there’s hope for things getting better.

That doesn’t eliminate the fact that I have a constantly dry, stuffy nose that makes it hard to sleep because I can’t simply blow it out. I do have saline packets arriving today that I can put in the bottle the pulmonologist gave me. I just hate the feeling of how it stings my nose. It’s like when you get water up your nose when you go swimming.

I’ve been having a lot of shortness of breath, and yesterday was horrible. First, I was depressed and feeling totally hopeless all night long. Then when he got up, my mood improved, but physically, I really went downhill. It got scary because every time I fell asleep, I would suffocate awake. I just couldn’t get enough air in, and to make matters worse, I sleep with my mouth closed, as I’ve mentioned before. I started to fear that I would keep waking up until I was too exhausted to wake up and would suffocate to death.

So as exhausted as I was, we headed for urgent care, but they were closed due to the storm. We were surprised by just how much storm damage there was right here in town. There’s a restaurant owner by the little beach who has owned the place for decades, and his place was flooded. He said he’d never seen anything like it. One of the street signs we drove under, the kind that hangs over the street in a frame, was busted out partway so you could only read half of the street name. Tom saw pics of flooding and floating cars, and this wasn’t too far from us. But because we’re roughly 30 feet in elevation, we were spared. I just wonder how much worse it’s going to get until it eventually takes this place out.

Anyway, I joined a site called 7 Cups because it said they provided free counselors at any time. Well, counselors you have to pay for if your insurance doesn’t cover it, but they have what’s called “listeners.” I wasn’t too impressed. Someone asked what was going on, I told them, and then I had to wait 25 minutes for them to reply with “I understand.”

Although I don’t see what good it would do me, if I ever really feel the need for a therapist, I’ll just get one through my insurance that hopefully isn’t a delusional religious freak like Helen was. Helen was very nice, but I prefer not to work with someone with that kind of narrow-minded mindset and that puts so much value in unproven stories.

So I finally got to bed after being up for 20 hours and managed to sleep for 5 hours, but of course, we had another power failure. Tom said we should have expected it because usually, after a storm, they do a temporary fix before they make the more permanent one, and they have to cut you off to make the switch.

Since being up, I have been short of breath, and I still have that dry stuffiness. I wish I knew what it was! Even if I don’t have a cold or COVID, we know that this isn’t an allergy-friendly climate. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking by coming here, but we’re talking about heading back out West next year.

We don’t have a ton of money, so it’s not like we could just up and go. I just don’t know how the hell I’m going to get the energy to do it. Got to do what I got to do, though. I don’t know for sure where we would go, but I do know it won’t be California or Arizona. Probably not Utah either, but likely Nevada, and even more likely, New Mexico. I don’t know if we’ll get land or go to another park.

In a park, you have more security, but with land, you have more freedom. We’re also not going to have nearly as much money to work with since we’re selling a tiny house in a cheap state. Where we got $110K from the Cali place, this place is lucky to give us more than $40K.

There would also be no flying first class out there. Instead of shipping our stuff, we would probably throw it in a truck and drive it out. We’d probably pull the car behind it since I doubt we could afford to ship it. The real problem is where the hell to put our stuff until we get into a place. We can’t afford to have it shipped and stored until we’re ready for it. Besides, our experience with that was not good at all because they broke a lot of our stuff, and it took months to get it after we requested it. So we’d likely be going back out West the same way we went from Oregon to California. Nothing is definite or etched in stone yet, but we’re seriously considering it for several reasons.

I’ve got a list of pros and cons written out. Even though the place might be older and maybe even a bit of a dump, it sure would be nice to have a bigger place! I’m just concerned with how to get the energy (and the money) to pull it off. It almost hurts seeing Doc A run off every few weeks somewhere and all the marathons she’s doing while I’m grounded day after day, feeling like shit. And she’s barely a decade younger! It’s just so unfair. I’m happy for her but sad for me. I know I’m going to suffer most days, physically or emotionally, for the rest of my life, and that’s a tough pill to swallow. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been dead years ago.

Pros of FL: - Warmer longer - Cheaper - Mostly older people

Cons of FL: - Allergies (even Tom’s nose has been stuffier than usual) - Fucked up healthcare - Crazy traffic - Planes - Motorcycles - Too many storms waking me up or threat of storms, plus hurricane dangers - Power failures galore - No Death with Dignity option - State is way too red - Unfriendly people (with few exceptions)

Tom got all excited earlier because he’s now 259 lbs and is under 260 for the first time in a long time. I noticed my weight was up a couple of pounds, and I was trying to figure out why since I hadn’t eaten much, and then I remembered the peanuts I got with our last order. Nothing puts weight on me faster than those.

My blood pressure was pretty low yesterday as well, and we’re pretty sure I got dehydrated and hadn’t eaten enough carbs. He thinks that could have accounted for some of the breathing issues. I still don’t know what to think, but I would like to get tested for COVID. The only problem with that is if it comes back positive, he’s mandated to tell the plasma place, which means he wouldn’t be able to donate.

At over 1,200 words, I guess this is a long enough entry, but I’m not ready to edit it. I’ll do it a little later and then post it.

[popentertainmentconcertreviews]

Nikka Costa & Olivia Rubini – Ardmore Music Hall – Ardmore, PA – November 11, 2024

The white soul sister is back, after nearly two decades out of the public eye. Nikka Costa released some totally funktastic grooves in the 1990s and early 2000s. Her newest album has just been released after several years, the aptly named Dirty Disco, and now Costa is out on a club tour to share her new music and old favorites. And it’s good to see that the crowd has been waiting for her.

The opening act was Olivia Rubini, recent alumni from the TV competition The Voice and the daughter of local rocker and music producer Ritchie Rubini (he was a founding member of The Caulfields, and also played with Bon Jovi for a while.) Olivia appeared to be a good rootsy blues rocker with just a bit of pop to keep things interesting.

I say appeared to be because the sound mix of the opening set was just awful. The lead guitar was so loud and high in the mix that it overwhelmed the rest of the band – steamrollering the rhythm guitarist, the bassist, the drummer, and even the vocalist.

Rubini often had to go all out just to be heard over the axe, and many of her subtler moments were just swallowed up by the wall of sound coming from one instrument. Therefore, whether she was doing a tender ballad (“Heartless Woman”) or a cover of a favorite Harry Styles song, sadly you couldn’t totally tell if she was doing them justice or not.

Of course, the sound quality is not her fault – or at least probably not, if she were a more experienced performer, she may have picked up on it and had something done about it – so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt that she is a better artist than this set showed off.

Ironically, like Rubini, Nikka Costa’s father was also a music producer, but from a different generation, often working with Frank Sinatra, who had been Nikka’s godfather. However, Don Costa died while Nikka was still a child and her music – which was pretty white bread when she recorded a few albums with dad as a little girl, starting at nine years old – became far funkier when left to the artist’s own devices.

In fact, a taped voiceover introducing the band announced “the return of the funky white bitch” to bring Costa onto the stage. Funny thing is, the last time I saw her perform at World Café Live in 2008, she was selling “The Return of the Funky White Bitch” t-shirts as concessions, so she’s been identifying this way for quite some time.

This tour is promoting Costa’s new album Dirty Disco, which is only the second record she has released since that 2008 tour. That’s kind of a shame, because while she never became a hit artist, she had a strong cult following for her first four adult albums. Things like parenthood and pandemics got in the way and kept her out of the studio and off of the road, she explained from the stage.

But now the bitch is back, and it’s good to have her. The show was made up of 13 originals and one slightly eclectic cover of “Dance Wit’ Me” by Rufus featuring Chaka Khan – a great tune, but hardly the most recognizable pick from those funk titans’ fiery songbook.

However, the setlist was pretty spot on, with her old favorites and new tunes coiling like a snake and shaking like a tailfeather. And Costa, despite all these years off the road – or perhaps because of it – had all the energy she has ever shown.

She started off with a trio of hot shots from the new album, “Dirty Disco,” “It’s Just Love” and “Keep It High.” By the time she reached back in her songbook for “Like a Feather” and “Pebble to a Pearl,” the funk was undeniable.

Occasionally some of the songs felt a little padded. “Everybody Got Their Something” had a bit too much back-and-forth vocalizing with the audience which sort of killed the funky exuberance of the tune. “Dance Wit’ Me” featured three instrumental solos: on guitar, bass and drum. Only the keyboardist didn’t get the time to shine, which somehow doesn’t seem fair. Still, that’s about one or two too many solos for any single song. However, mostly the show was fiery and tight.

Nikka Costa reminded us, for one night at least, why the world has been missing her and needing her little shots of soul. Here’s hoping it’s not another several years before she passes this way again.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2024 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: November 13, 2024.

Photos by Jim Rinaldi © 2024. All rights reserved.

[cascadedkiwi]

Notes [Comfortember 2023]

Characters: Denki Kaminari x Female OC (Kliome) Manga/Anime: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Genre: Comfort (but more fluff, I think) Summary: Kliome leaves little notes for Denki throughout his day. Word Count: 1,243

Prompt 6: Notes

Kliome giggled as she lightly hung off of Denki’s neck in the doorway. “I love you,” she said in a cutesy voice.

Denki grinned down at her, holding his hands up. “I love you, too, cutie, but we gotta go.”

Kliome kissed his nose.

He gave her a helpless smile. “Kliome, come on. I’m actually set to be early to work for once.”

She gave a little pout, setting herself back on her feet. “Are we still on for lunch today?”

“I honestly can’t promise but I’ll do my best. Pray no one decides to make my day interesting?”

“Fingers crossed.” Kliome gave him one last kiss on his cheek before sprinting out to her truck. “Bye! Love you!” She called out the window as she pulled off.

Denki blinked, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head as he made his way to his car, pausing as he settled into the driver’s seat. A folded paper was tented on the steering wheel. He opened it.

‘Good morning Chargebolt, I hope you have a wonderful day! You deserve it.  Love, your biggest fan.’

He smiled again. The i’s were dotted with little zig-zags for lightning bolts. Kliome could be so precious. 

He arrived at the agency with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. “Share some of that happy with the rest of us,” called a sidekick playfully.

When he went to change into his hero costume, something fell out of his jacket. Another paper, this time yellow.

‘Thank you for all your hard work. We’re all safer with you on the street.’

No i’s for her to dot this time, but she signed the note with a lightning bolt regardless. He couldn’t help but smile again. Even though he was a pro now, the doubts still lingers at the back of his mind, old insecurities following him from his days at U.A. None knew that better than Kliome.

“Fan Mail?”

Denki startled at the voice in his ear, nearly dropping the note. He whipped around to see Hakurei snickering into the high collar of his jacket. “Moody!”

“You were watching that note pretty intensely.” Hakurei raised an eyebrow and Denki had to remind himself that this guy was only half a decade older than he was.

Denki shoved it into his bag in his locker. “It’s from Kliome.”

Hakurei’s smile grew. “Nothing like sweet words from your soulmate to send you into battle, huh?” He merely huffed a knowing laugh at the red that climbed Denki’s face.

Patrol had been uneventful until two guys decided that Denki needed to get his blood pumping. What started as an antique store heist turned into a foot chase that attracted a gang of known troublemakers just looking for a reason to show off their quirks. It only escalated from there, introducing multiple stolen cars and a giant of a girl with a projectile-type quirk way too similar to Bakugo’s. He definitely wasn’t making it to lunch.

It took them four hours to get the situation under control. Denki looked up as a firm hand gripped his shoulder. He gave Hakurei a wry smile. 

“Need a mood boost?” Hakurei offered, looking a bit worse for wear himself.

Denki shook his head, pushing his hair from his face. “Nah, thanks man. Looks like you need to use your quirk on yourself.”

“If only I could.” Hakurei stumbled, giving Denki a grateful look for not letting him hit the broken pavement.

A pair of paramedics came to check them over, taking Hakurei away in an ambulance. 

Denki plopped down on the sidewalk, catching his breath while waiting to be collected to go back to the agency. The paperwork was gonna be a doozy for this one. He pulled his phone from his breast pocket under his t-shirt. His message app was loaded with notifications, but Kliome’s chat - pinned to the top - was lit up with a tiny "1" in the colored circle. 

‘I heard some jerks decided to make your day interesting, ^^’. Don’t worry about lunch. We’ll make up for it later. I know you fought hard and well. I’m proud of you. And proud to be yours. :P PLEASE go to the hospital, Chargebolt. Even if you think you’re fine. I’ll be mad if you don’t >:(   I wuv you <3'

His lips pulled up to one side and he reread the message again before typing out a response, hitting send just as a set of footsteps approached him. It was time to get back to base. 

Denki was in the camp of agency employees that started paperwork at the earliest opportunity. Mainly so he could get as much as he could down while it was still fresh in his thankfully unscrambled brain. 

A quick shower and change of clothes later, Denki was making his way to his desk. Upon approach, he noticed a container set next to the thick folder waiting for his write up. Taped to the top was a blue paper folded in the shape of a star. He sat down before unfolding it.

‘Yes, I made this. Yes, it’s a salad. You know my salads are never lacking. Hope it can comfortably tide you over until you get off. You deserve every piece of chicken and shrimp in this bowl.

P.S. Eat every legume. Every single one.’

He carefully popped off the lid, taking in the colorful and weighty meal. She had stripped the lettuce, fried the chicken and the shrimp, and he counted three different kinds of beans, chickpeas, and pigeon peas, all tossed in a dressing he couldn't identify. It honestly looked like filling for her homemade naan or a tortilla.

Thankfully, he didn't have to leave the agency building for the rest of his shift so he was actually able to finish all the preliminary paperwork. The drive home was a careful one. He had a medical all-clear but was still sore all over. A fortunate coincidence that he was scheduled off tomorrow. Not so fortunate was that Kliome wouldn't be able to spend the day with him, but he reminded himself yet again that he would, in fact, not perish from Kliome-deficiency over the course of a 24-hour period. 

A pink note greeted him at eye-level on the front door. 

'Good work today, Chargebolt. Rest well.'

He took it inside. His face squinched in confusion at the mess that greeted him. Well, not exactly a mess. But there were folded papers on every surface. Every seat in the living room. The coffee table, the TV stand, the dining table… every chair had a paper folded over the back and one in the center of the seat. The kitchen island, the counters, the microwave, the fridge, even the pile of clean dishes in the drainer and the sink faucet. 

How long had she been planning this?

The bathroom was in a similar state. Folded papers of varying colours on the closed toilet seat, the toilet tank, their - dry - towels, taped to the back of the door... 

On to the bedroom, then. Spotless. Had she run out? He walked in to see their dresser. The mirror was completely outlined in post-its.

He sat on the bed. His phone went off in his pocket.

Good night, my electric love. I landed safely. Bet you won't find them all before I get back. :P

He smiled. He couldn't love this woman enough.

A/N: She also put a note in at least one pocket of all his clothes in their shared closet. He'll be finding them for months.

[thenewfuture]

(Part 2)

Th-The…Izuru…K-Kamukura Project…?!

………….

…These appear to be a record of all of the participants and subsequent victims of the project. There’s hundreds, perhaps thousands of names here, going on for nearly six decades. Most of the subjects here died during the operations, and most that survived didn’t live long enough past the first few weeks to get a decent result.

All of which is approved and signed in your name, Chairman Kazou Tengan.

…………

W-Wait, hold on! Th-There’s no way Chairman Tengan would do something like that knowingly…! M-Maybe he didn’t know what it was for-

Kid. I get ya want to get in the chairman’s good graces. But the facts speak for themselves.

Tengan was the headmaster of Hope’s Peak for years before Jin stepped in. He knew. He knew guaranteed.

……………

…………………

….What would you have me say?

Huh?

What could I possibly say at this time that would have you believe my side in all this?

Try and I’ll judge you myself.

*sigh*......

Izuru Kamukura wanted nothing but the best for our country. He wanted to improve the world and help others in so many ways, alas it was too tall a task for one man alone.

----------------------------------

Tengan: That’s when he had the idea to create Hope’s Peak Academy. To help foster the next generation and bolster their individual skill sets to change the world.

Tengan: But as the years went on…nothing changed. Crime was rampant, diseases still spread, and the citizens still felt a great despair. And so Izuru Kamukura died without his dream ever being fulfilled.

--------------------

Until, one day…many years later when an idea struck. What if instead of relying on multiple people with incredible talents to shape the world, there was one person with every and all talents in existence to shape it instead.

And that was the basis for the Kamukura Project.

Indeed. Ever since then, Hope’s Peak has tried to craft the perfect embodiment of hope. An Ultimate Ultimate if you will. The Ultimate Hope.

By injecting all we knew about talents and the talented students, their body structure, genetic makeup, and brain impulses, onto one singular person. We could make that individual be like those talented students. Perhaps even stronger.

At the cost of said individual losing themselves in the process.

………

Y’know, I keep wondering…. Just what was the plan for Izuru Kamukura anyway? How did the school plan to use them once they were created.

I believe it went something like this… Hope’s Peak would assign Izuru to use his incredible talents wherever and whenever they saw fit. Assist in calculations, help stop disasters, become mankind’s hope for the betterment of the world.

That doesn’t sound like for the betterment of the world, that sound like for the betterment of Hope’s Peak solely.

……….

I…..I don’t understand…. How could you…..be okay with this….?

As I said, I believed it was for the greater good. The potential of all the talent possessed-

Tengan's skeletons in his closet

(Part 1)

*Flips through pages*

Is it really wise to stay here and waste precious time? I can’t see the benefit in reading that file?

Why do you have that file anyway?

What do you mean? It’s a record of every branch leader of the Foundation. Why wouldn’t I have something like that?

I meant have it here. Wouldn’t that be too good information for anyone to have? Especially, if it’s as personal as I’m suspecting it is…

It’s not that, it’s-

A last will in testament.

Hmm?

Or that’s how I’m personally perceiving it with your phrasing here in some of these notes sections. If someone were to find this and read these sections about what you had to say about them, it would fill them with a sense of remorse.

A forced remorse though… From only reading your personal thoughts in this file, instead of from your own mouth.

Almost as if you’re expecting to die soon.

…….

…I have no idea what you could be referring too…

Fine then. Take this section about me for instance. You write,

“Kyoko Kirigiri is a smart, confident, and capable detective. Being the one to solve most of the mysteries surrounding the Hope’s Peak Killing Game even under a stronger memory loss influence than the other students proves she is a prodigy worthy of her family name. It almost gives me no doubt in my mind that she can solve all of the mysteries remaining about Hope’s Peak Academy. But whether I should be worried about that is still uncertain”

…….

……

….Well? I’m right here. What do you want me to potentially uncover?

…….

I’m….not sure what you could be referring to…

You wrote it, my man. Is your memory failing that much already?

…………….

……..

Very well. I’ve already figured it out anyway. 

You have?

Yes. It has something to do… *Click*

*whiiiirrrrr* *Kyoko hits a button under Tengan’s desk. And one of the paintings on the wall splits open to reveal a compartment hidden in the wall with another type of file inside*

…with this.

W-Woah! That’s some serious spy-type stuff right there…!

And what is that exactly?

*Kyoko takes the file from the compartment* This…appears to be about the Izuru Kamukura Project.

[luvhaos]

skate and slip | kmg

pairing: kim mingyu x gn! reader genre: non-idol! au, established relationship, fluff, humor word count: 683 summary: in hindsight, maybe you and mingyu, the two clumsiest people in existence, shouldn’t have accepted the invitation to an ice skating outing.

You swear that you weren’t this clumsy before you started dating Mingyu. You’re pretty sure it just rubbed off on you. You also swear that you never used to be this bad at ice skating but you guess it has been over a decade since your parents last took you to a rink.

Mingyu has your hand in a death grip as you two shuffle awkwardly along the edge of the rink, Mingyu shouting, “Show offs!” as Minghao and Joshua whiz by the two of you. It makes you personally feel a little better when you see Seungkwan trip and fall at the other end of the ice rink, earning laughs from you and Mingyu, but that satisfaction doesn’t last long.

Mingyu stumbles himself and, because of his vice hold on your hand, drags you down with him. “Ouch!” you yelp as you land on him and you huff playfully, “Jeez, Gyu, take us all down, why don’t you?”

Mingyu scoffs, “Oh, please, you would have fallen eventually.”

“Would not.”

“Would so.”

“Would not.”

“Would so!”

“You’re both equally bad,” Wonwoo says, skating over to you.

Mingyu glares at his best friend as you grip the wall of the rink, pulling yourself up. Wonwoo, despite his taunting, helps you haul Mingyu up as well. You hold onto the wall and Mingyu leans against it. You watch as Wonwoo skates away, studying the motion of his legs and his stance. You push yourself off the wall and tentatively move away, gliding at a snail’s pace but at least you’re not actively falling down.

As you move farther away, Mingyu whines, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me here!”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it, babe,” you say and you move a few more inches forward.

“Woohoo!” Seokmin cheers as he slides past you, just a tad faster than you. “Go, Y/n!”

“I thought we were a team!” Mingyu calls from behind you.

You sigh in faux sadness and glance over your shoulder. “Sometimes, we need to leave people behind to move forward.”

You laugh at your boyfriend’s overdramatic cry and Vernon shouts, “Cold, Y/n, cold!”

You nearly tumble down again but you catch the wall in time, keeping yourself upright as you watch Mingyu gradually move himself off it. “Watch out,” he warns you, “I’m coming to get you!”

Wonwoo, who had taken two laps around the rink, settles beside you and mutters, “I highly doubt that.”

Mingyu skates a mere four inches before falling again. You and Wonwoo exchange glances and you say, “I don’t know if I’ll make it back to him without falling and I kind of like my high ground right now.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes good-naturedly and makes his way over to Mingyu on his own, once again helping him up. Mingyu pouts at you and you hold your arms out. “Come on, babe! You’ve got it!”

Mingyu clings to the wall as he shuffles towards you, one painstaking foot in front of the other. You’re barely managing to balance yourself waiting for him and as he draws closer to you, he makes a final push and flies towards you, crashing into you and sending you both down.

When the initial ache fades, you two stare at each before bursting into loud laughs. Mingyu leans down and kisses you, earning whoops and retching from your friends and you swear that Jihoon yells, “Get a room!”

The two of you struggle to your feet and you say, “I, sadly, don’t think we have careers in figure skating, Gyu.”

Mingyu hums in agreement, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his head on top of yours. “I like where we’re at right now.”

“Wow,” Seungcheol says as he passes you two. “Way to make the rest of us feel single.”

“That’s right,” Mingyu says, puffing his chest out. “Be jealous of our love.” He pecks your temple and then your cheek and soon, he’s pressing sweet kisses all over your face, earning another round of cheering and gagging.

“I second Jihoon.” Chan says, “Get a room!”

[97-liners]

more werewolf!scoups x vampire!reader

pointless fluff, some backstory, 1.1k words

same universe as my previous little drabble

@greenlivvie

Chan is afraid of you. Terrified, even, and you’re very aware of it.

You smile awkwardly at him, but you’re not sure it really carries past the large wide-brimmed hat and veil protecting your face from the sun. You try your best to remember what you would have done back when you were a human, but your memory fails you.

“So,” you say, clasping your gloved hands. You’re out in daylight today, accompanying Seungcheol as he runs some errands. He had to stop by a relative’s house to drop something off, and you had elected to wait outside to avoid the awkwardness of needing to be invited in.

Chan was on his way back from the train station when he ran into you, and out of obligation and politeness more than anything, he stopped to greet you. You know it wasn’t his first choice, because you can sense the adrenaline in his blood and the minuscule shift of his muscles, like he’s steeling himself in case he has to fight. Dressed in his school uniform and walking his bike, he somehow seems even younger than you remember him looking a few weeks ago when he came of age and joined the other wolves in the run for the first time.

You know you’re quite intimidating dressed in all black and standing in the shadow of a building, but this is the first time you’ve been face-to-face with the boy without Seungcheol acting as some sort of buffer, and you desperately want him to stop making those terrified deer-in-the-headlights eyes at you. “How is school?”

“G-good,” Chan stammers.

“Are you studying hard for your college entrance exams?”

“Yeah,” he looks down at his feet.

You’re trying your best to seem warm and friendly, you really are, but centuries of isolation really does take a toll on your social skills. 

“You know, you can always come to me for help,” you tell him. “I have four degrees.” A product of having nothing better to do over the past two hundred years.

“Thank you,” Chan says. “You’re very generous.”

The two of you fall in silence again. What are the kids into these days? You’re itching to tell him not to be afraid of you, that you haven’t killed anyone in nearly five decades, that you’re freshly sated and have no hunger for his blood, but a part of your brain tells you that doing so might make him even more afraid of you, so you just smile at him again.

Thankfully, Seungcheol rescues you. “Hey Chan, heading home from school?” He comes up beside you and takes your hand, effortlessly entwining his fingers between your own gloved fingers. 

“Oh, hyung,” Chan breathes a sigh of relief. “Hi. I’m heading to cram school right now.”

“Well, you don’t want to be late, do you,” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at Chan, who instantly gets the message. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get going,” he swings his leg back over his bike, the numerous little keychains hanging off his backpack jostling and clinking in the process. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Oh, and Chan?”

“Hm?” He looks up.

“Don’t be so nervous around my partner.”

.

.

.

“It’s so embarrassing,” you moan, hanging up your hat as soon as you reach the blessed darkness inside your house. “Your packmates are terrified of me. I’m like, half of Mingyu’s size,” you gripe, stripping your gloves off, “and the other day he still asked me if I’ve ever ripped anyone’s head off.”

“Well, have you?” Seungcheol sets the shopping bags down in the kitchen.

You wave your hand flippantly as you shrug off your long black coat. “Yeah, but that was over a century ago.”

“Don’t worry about it, they’ll come around eventually,” he promises, settling an arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. “Mingyu is afraid of everything. And to be fair, you’re a very powerful being.”

You frown at him. “I’m a socially awkward hermit.”

“You could kill me at any moment if you wanted,” he adds on conversationally, as if he isn’t talking about murder. 

“You’d put up a good fight,” you counter. “We’re pretty evenly matched.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he laughs.

“You’re the only one with no self preservation instinct.” You sigh as you collapse into a chair, exhausted from an afternoon of being out in public. 

Seungcheol shrugs. “Well that’s because we’ve met before. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Hmm?” You look up at him as he puts away groceries. “What are you talking about?”

He pauses, one hand held hesitantly over a bag of carrots. “I met you before. When I was a child.”

You stare at him. 

Seungcheol furrows his brows. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” you respond. “But then again, I’m old. My memory isn’t the best.”

“Hmm,” he turns back towards the task at hand. “It’s fine if you don’t remember, then.”

“You’ll have to remind me about it some time.” You lean your head against the back of your chair. 

.

.

.

(It’s raining outside, and you’re trying your best to focus on the book in your lap, but the persistent whimpering outside your house is distracting you. It’s probably just some wild animal, but something about the sound is unsettling. It’s not right. 

Your eyes scan over the same paragraph for the third time before you sigh and snap the book shut. If you don’t address the whining, you’re not going to get anything done all night.

Tugging on your rain boots and wrapping a coat loosely around yourself, you step out onto the porch to investigate the noise. It’s a full moon tonight, but any moonlight is obscured by the dark storm clouds overhead. You step out onto the creaky old wood and look around, eyes adjusting to the darkness, and then you spot it, the source of the whimpering.

It’s a puppy. No, you frown. It’s not an ordinary puppy. That’s a lost werewolf pup, a young one at that. He’s soaking wet and covered in mud, shivering in the paltry shelter of a flowerpot holding a wilted rose bush. “Oh dear,” you murmur, stepping forward. Without hesitation, you shrug off your coat and wrap the pup up, holding him close to your chest. You know it’s no use, that your body doesn’t carry any heat, but the action must have soothed him somewhat, because the whimpering quiets down into the occasional keen. 

“You’re too young to be out here alone,” you murmur. “There are monsters in the woods less kind than I am, little wolf.” There’s a pack a couple miles away. You’ve never interacted with them, but you’re sure they’ll get this pup back to his parents, wherever they are. “Brave little wolf,” you croon, cradling the bundle against your chest as you set off in the rain, making your way through the dark forest, head lifted high. There are no threats to you here. “Let’s get you back home.”)

[emeraldiis]

Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.