#so really i have like 7 days to see ALL THE SHOWS

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika, Ambessa, Grayson

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them <3 (this is needed after the pain of act 3)

my masterlist

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 1

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

warnings: fwb should be warning in itself, jungkook is a simp and a hot nerdy professor (yummm), oc has a tabby cat named miso, bam makes his first appearance, jungkook has a big ol' crush on oc, some unrequited romantic feelings (?) we're not sure yet, explicit sexual content; making out, kook has heart eyes for oc's boobs, five second strip show, like a split second of male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), a teeny wheeny bit of fingering, oc rides that thang like a cowgirl, unprotected sex (oc is on birth control and they're both clean), plus some angsty vibes at the end :(((

word count: 3.5k

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: part 1 is out my dudes !!! 😭😭 i hope you enjoy this little introduction to jungkook and oc, and i can't wait to start exploring their dynamic a little more in depth in the next parts!! i'm so excited to go on this journey with you all, so pls make sure to follow, reblog, and send me an ask if you want to chat about these cuties 🤪 part 2 coming soon !

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the end of the day and Jungkook is on his way out, heading home after an exhausting day at the university. He walks down the corridor, his phone in hand, his eyes trained to his phone as he checks his emails.

You step out of your office, shutting the door and straightening your bag on your shoulder. You dig through it for your office keys, locking up once you find them. He looks up from his phone for a second and spots you, a smile tugging at his lips as he pockets his phone and walks over to you.

He leans against the wall next to your door, arms crossed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” he murmurs with a little grin.

“Hey, Kook,” you greet softly, walking away to head home, Jungkook peeling himself off the wall to walk next to you.

“Long day?” he asks with a sympathetic smile.

You love your job, really, you do. But some days are draining and dealing with young adults who don't even know how to reference their sources for an essay or spell parliament properly can actually drive you to drink. “Mm, thank God the day's over,” you chuckle, looking over at him as you walk down the stone walkway together, the sun slowly starting to set on campus.

He chuckles, looking over at you to catch the way the golden hour light casts a pretty yellowish-orange glow over your skin, his eyes quickly diverting down to the ground to stop himself from staring, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hey, uhm...if you don't have any plans tonight, do you maybe wanna come over to my place?” he asks, feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush every time he asks you that, even if he's done it ten dozen times by now. He knows why he's inviting you over. You know why he's inviting you over.

“Yeah, sure,” you say casually, heading in the direction of the parking lot to get to your car. You see it in its usual parking spot, right next to his, just like it is every day, like a silent declaration that you're a package deal.

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control. “Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?” he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over,” you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

“You can go, I'll manage,” you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. “You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing.”

“You should quit teaching and go into comedy,” you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. “Ha. Found it,” you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments’ feel more like a reward than anything else.

You go home and feed Miso, the grey tabby lounging around like she's the queen of your apartment, completely unbothered that you're only staying for a little while before eventually leaving again to get dicked down hang out with Jungkook. You put on some comfortable sweats and give her a few kisses and cuddles before heading over to Jungkook's place.

This is a regular thing for you guys. You remain professional at work, well, as professional as two people who are hooking up can be, and then you go over to his place, or vice versa, and sometimes there's wine, sometimes there's dinner, sometimes you go straight to the sexy part, or sometimes there's no sexy part at all because one of you just wants to talk or watch a movie. It works for you. It's easy. It feels good. Really good.

He's a good friend. He's kind, he's a good listener, and he's all those nice, sweet, lovely things. He's also really good in bed, which is always a bonus in a...friend.

Good friends offer to drive you home from the club when you've had one too many to drink. Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

"Slow down, you're gonna choke," he chuckles, watching you stuff your face with Indian takeout. It's like a competitive sport when the two of you eat dinner, which is one of the things you like most about hanging out with Jungkook. There is no pressure to be perfect. You can act the way you really want to and not feel scrutinized for it. Maybe it's just because his big fat crush has completely tinted the way he sees you, but he'd happily watch you pig out if it means he gets to spend time alone with you.

“I thought you like it when I choke a little bit,” you tease, just wanting to get a reaction out of him, and that's exactly what you get. He nearly chokes on his food, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide as he looks over at you.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you can't just say stuff like that,” he coughs, trying to compose himself, roughly clearing his throat to not die via chicken biryani. It’s quite a strange thing how he can go from this to a sex god in bed, not that it's anything for you to complain about.

Jungkook does the dishes after dinner which allows you to enjoy some alone time with Bam. The brown doberman plops down on the couch, practically begging to be cuddled. He’s always been quite fond of you, since Jungkook adopted him three years ago. He’s the sweetest boy. He loves being loved on, much like his father.

Jungkook watches as you give Bam “lovies” as you call it, the dog absolutely basking in the attention.

“I’m starting to think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook jokes with a scoff, smiling as Bam does his ‘sit/lay down’ tricks for you. What a showoff.

“He’s never gotten that comfortable with anyone who isn't me,” he murmurs with a soft smile, watching the two excited puppies in his living room. “He gets really excited when he knows you're coming over.”

“Bam, cut it out. I’m Miso’s mommy, she’s going to get jealous,” you playfully scold him, although the scratches you give him say otherwise. He’s just a doe-eyed, dark-haired, soft-hearted boy. Again, much like his father.

Jungkook finishes drying the dishes and practically shoves Bam out the way to get the same attention from you. He lays down on the couch with his head in your lap and you already know what he wants. You lightly scratch his scalp, watching his eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Sex is great, but there's something about moments like this that just makes him want to get down on his knees and give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

“I think Bam-ie’s upset,” you chuckle, looking over at him with a soft, apologetic smile, his father looking anything but sorry. He chuckles as he watches Bam quietly stroll back to the bedroom, his eyes fluttering shut once more when you do that thing with your nails that sends shivers down his spine.

“He’ll live,” he scoffs, wincing when you give his hair a firm tug, his lips puffing up into a pout.

You don't really remember how exactly you ended up on his lap with your hands in his hair and his lips peppering your jaw and neck with gentle, tender kisses, but you know that it feels good.

“We’ve been so busy lately, we’ve barely gotten a chance to do this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands trailing up your thighs to rest at your hips.

You scoff, your eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. It's true. You’ve both been so busy with work that you haven't hung out or had sex in two weeks.

“I know. I’ve been relying on my vibrator.”

He feels a shrill of heat run through him at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, as if he hasn't already seen the actual thing live in-person.

“Yeah? Is he better than me?” he teases with a little grin, pressing soft kisses to your pulse point.

“First of all; she, and I mean…she gets the job done,” you tease, not wanting to outright admit that nothing and no one can make you cum the way he does.

“You couldn't have just said no?” he chuckles, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. “Maybe I should get myself a toy too…y’know, for when you're too busy,” he teases with a lazy grin.

“What, like a pocket pussy?” you laugh.

“Mm. Something like that.”

“I’d prefer you to be inside me instead of a fake vagina,” you quip, leaning in to press a feather-like kiss to his lips, just testing the waters a bit. “Are you gonna think of me when you use it?” you tease, batting your lashes the way you know makes him go a little weak.

He swallows thickly, nodding like he’s hypnotised. “Of course I’d think of you,” he murmurs, his hips bucking up in a sad attempt to get you to give him some friction. “It wouldn't compare to you though. Nothing compares to you.” His voice is soft and airy, sounding almost pathetic.

You feel a little smile tug at your lips, your resolve slowly slipping. He’s so open about his thoughts and feelings. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable and lay it all out there, even if it is just sex.

His heart does that stupid thump-thump thing again at the sight of your smile, but now really isn't the time to psychoanalyse that, so he pushes that thought away for later.

“Can you take this off for me?” He slips his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, getting a bit antsy to see more of you.

He’s never really given it too much thought whether he’s an ass or tits typa guy, but when you pull your sweatshirt over your head and his eyes land on that black bra with the little pink bows, the one that you know he likes so much, he swears he’s never seen anything prettier.

“God, I love these.” He leans his head forward to press soft little kisses to the tops of your breasts, his hands trailing up the sides of your ribs. “My pretty girls.”

Your eyes fall shut, the butterflies starting to flutter in the pit of your stomach. Sex with him is so soft and sweet. He says nice things and he makes you feel good, both physically and emotionally, and that makes your anxiety spike just a tad, so you deflect.

“Do you always make conversation with a woman’s tits before you stick it in her or…?”

He chuckles, and it's deep and warm, a little comforting, like if hot cocoa had a voice.

“Take this off. Wanna see them,” he murmurs softly, lightly tugging at the strap of your bra to let it snap back against your skin.

You roll your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips tells him that you're more than happy to oblige. You reach back to unclasp it, letting the material fall from your body, his eyes growing a shade darker at your exposed skin.

He swirls his tongue around a nipple and sucks before repeating the same thing on the other side, giving both breasts the attention they deserve. His eyes flutter shut like he wants to savour every little moment with you.

You reluctantly get up off his lap, and before he can protest, you're discarding the rest of your clothing, sliding your sweatpants down your legs. He makes quick work of following your lead by removing his shirt and pants, his boxers following quickly behind.

You make a little show of removing your panties, and you would normally be embarrassed by the amount of moisture that has already accumulated inside the flimsy material, but right now, all you can focus on is his hand giving his cock a few lazy strokes while he watches you undress for him.

“C’mere.” He spreads his legs a bit, his cock already almost fully hard, the tip slowly turning a light shade of pink. You'd never thought of a cock as 'pretty' before, but damn, it's pretty.

You do as he says without a single protest or complaint, your pussy practically throbbing at the sight of him. Oh, how wonderful it is to be his friend.

You get down on your knees in front of him, his eyelids hanging low as he looks down at you, his hand pumping his cock.

You pride yourself in being good at oral sex, but it's never been something you particularly love doing. That is, until you started hooking up with Jungkook. Sometimes he’ll just be doing something as simple as watching a show on tv, and you’ll be on your knees with your hair up and his cock hitting the back of your throat. It's everything, from the sounds he makes, to the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in ecstasy, that makes it so enjoyable.

You take over for him, giving his cock a few strokes before swirling your tongue around the head, pulling a deep groan from the back of his throat. You start sucking, working your way down his length, occasionally looking up to see that look on his face that makes your pussy clench. He rests his hand at the back of your head, not applying pressure, just wanting to feel more of you as you bob your head up and down a few times.

You give the tip some attention, then go all the way down to the base so that your nose just lightly brushes against his pelvis, then back up again, keeping a nice rhythm. His groans, paired with the way his stomach tenses every time you take him down to the base, is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

“Fuck…baby, stop, please. Don't wanna cum too early,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching for you to get up and straddle his lap. Your hips slide back and forth, your slick coating him, his dick glistening under the low light of the living room lamp.

“Already? Jesus, Jungkook, have some self-respect.” You can't help but tease him a bit, even in a moment like this, where you're in no position to be making fun of his desperation when you’re as wet as you are.

He scoffs, his hand disappearing between your legs, his middle and ring finger rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding back to sink into your sopping entrance, shutting you right up.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teases with a lazy little grin, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, your wetness allowing him to move them without any resistance.

“Don't speak about my daughter at a time like this.”

His laughter gets cut off by your lips crashing into his, his fingers slipping out of you as you lift your hips to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Want me to sit on it?”

“Yeah.” His voice is breathless as the anticipation slowly builds in his gut. No matter how many times you have sex, he’ll never get tired of that rush of adrenaline that flows through him in that moment right before he slides in.

“Ask nicely.”

“Y/n, come on,” he laughs half-heartedly, tilting his head back against the couch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll sit down, Kook,” you whisper, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against his.

“Please…please, baby. Ride me, please.”

The groan he lets out as you slowly sink down on his cock is enough to send shivers down your spine. It's thick and long, but it's not too big for it to hurt. It fits perfectly, nice and snug like a glove.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters hoarsely, his hands gripping you harder as you begin to roll your hips in that fluid motion that makes him go a little crazy.

It feels like an honour that he gets to see you like this, naked on top of him, riding him deep and slow on his couch after a long day at work. He doesn't know what he ever did in his lifetime to deserve to be balls deep inside you on a Friday night, but he knows that he’s a lucky bastard.

“Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, looking down to watch the way your pussy sucks him in, like something out of a wet dream.

You set a nice pace, riding him just the way he likes it. You reach down to rub circles over your clit, your walls clenching around his cock, pulling soft moans and whimpers from his lips.

“Keep going,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum, baby…”

You ride a bit faster, applying more pressure to your clit as you chase your own high. He fights to keep his eyes open, desperately needing to watch you as the pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” The pleasure creeps up on you and you cum with a breathless moan, your walls fluttering around his length, throbbing and pulsating.

“Gonna…holy shit…gonna cum, baby, don't stop…”

You use the last of your energy to bring him to his peak, moving your hips until his cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath you. He cums with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard that it might bruise tomorrow.

You continue to grind down on him to help him ride it out. You gently run your fingers through his damp hair, his skin slightly dewy, his eyes squeezed shut. He trembles as the aftershocks flow through him, his breathing coming out a bit uneven.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, looking like he just died and came back to life. He lifts his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Come on, let go. I gotta go clean up.”

You very rarely allow him to cuddle you after sex. It feels too intimate, too romantic. You don't allow yourself to be romantic with Jungkook. He's not your boyfriend and you like it that way.

He lets out a small hum of disagreement as you lift yourself up, his hands moving to hold your waist.

"Stay here for a little longer," he mumbles softly, his voice drowsy. He looks at you with big doe eyes, trying to persuade you to stay. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You're starting to soften inside me and I have to shower, Kook. You know I hate feeling sticky.”

He reluctantly lets you go, groaning softly as you get up off his lap. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, his eyes following you as you walk over to the bathroom.

You walk off to his bathroom and close the door, locking it behind you. Locking the door is something so simple but it means so much. It means, 'You're not my boyfriend so we can't share that level of intimacy. You can fuck my brains out, but you can't wash my hair in the shower or sit on the toilet while I do my skincare'. It's too coupley.

Jungkook slowly puts his boxers back on, staring at the bathroom door. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He knows he probably never will be. He knows all your boundaries and your rules and your reasons for having them, but that doesn't make it sting any less. He can't help but wonder what it would feel like if you actually allowed him to love you, but he knows he’s just being foolish and hopeful. He knows that by physically locking that door, you're locking him out of ever getting closer to you emotionally.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 18

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17

Steve doesn’t see much of Eddie for the next few weeks. Presumably there are still Dungeons and Dragons sessions and band practices, but Steve and Chrissy are no longer invited. Jeff flits back and forth between their two groups like a child of divorce, and Steve? He just misses Eddie.

Eddie, who even once Steve slinks back to his usual seat in the cafeteria for lunch, no longer gives his table top rants. He doesn’t say anything at all, not where Steve might overhear him. But he still has Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and that’s enough.

In his free time, he writes aimless letters destined to never be read.

Steve’s moving on—getting over it is a process, or so he tells Chrissy. He never shows her the letters, can’t bear to see the pity on her face. He doesn’t talk about it with Robin again either–just hides his notebook away and gets on with his life.

Eddie’s just a boy, and it’s just a crush. Steve can move on, he always does. He tells Eddie as much in a letter he’ll never read.

Everything changes when he opens his locker and something drops out. It’s a bright yellow envelope, sloppy sunflowers drawn on the sides with black pen, and there, dead center, is his name written in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, is his name. Not Secret Admirer, not even Harrington, just Steve.

He shoves it into his backpack before Robin can close her own locker and notice.

It stays hidden there for the rest of the day as Steve’s heartbeat rabbits away in his chest, and his palms itch with sweat. He doesn’t open it that night either, too afraid of what he might find in it. It’s like that one story Robin had told him, where the guy goes crazy after burying someone under the floorboards or something? It’s calling to him, no matter how hard he plugs his ears.

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He still hasn’t opened it by school the next day. Might not ever have opened it if he hadn’t glanced toward Eddie during lunch and caught his eye. Eddie’s staring, gaze intense even with all the distance between them. But then, the weirdest thing happens—Eddie smiles just a little, and finger waves at him, like they’re friends.

Steve just stares, gobsmacked until Eddie’s entire face starts to turn a splotchy red and he looks down at his lunch table as if embarrassed.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks, looking behind her at whatever had caught Steve’s eye.

“I have to go,” Steve blurts, rushing out of the cafeteria before she can ask anymore questions.

His and Chrissy’s usual abandoned classroom has a teacher in it, so he ends up in his and Robin’s bathroom stall, this time alone. Still, he sits on the ground, leaving enough room for the ghost of Robin to have a seat, too.

He opens his backpack, zeroing in on the envelope instantly—as if he’d ever, for a second forgotten about it—and finally pulls it out.

He traces the sunflowers on the paper, memorizing the grooves Eddie’s pen had made before finally turning it over and sliding his fingers beneath the seal to tear it open.

The paper’s thicker than he’s used to getting from Eddie, and it’s that same, bright yellow that doesn’t fit Eddie’s aesthetic at all. But it fits Steve’s, and that’s the thought that finally gets him to bring the letter closer to his face and begin to read. 

   Steve,

   I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry.

   As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad.

   Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew?

   So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date?

   I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer.

   But I really, really, really hope you do.

   Yours, always, hopefully,

   Eddie

Steve stares down at it, flummoxed. He reads it again, and again, and again. When the words on the page don’t change, he slips it delicately into the envelope, and goes to his next class, mind swirling away with the clouds.

“Can I drive you home?” Steve asks Jeff before he can climb into Chrissy’s car.

“Uh, sure?” Jeff replies just as Chrissy cuts in with a near-frantic, “are you okay?”

Steve smiles tightly at her and says, “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I just need to talk to Jeff.”

She bites her lip, looking even more worried than before, but all she says is, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jeff and Chrissy trade an indecipherable look and then Jeff dutifully follows Steve to his car and climbs in. Before he starts the engine, he pulls the envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks.

“Read it,” Steve replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression crosses Jeff’s face as he reads.

It’s silent for a few minutes aside from The Clash filtering quietly tinnily from the radio, but then Jeff says, “so, he finally did it.”

Steve’s fingers clench on the steering wheel at the vague answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked. “Is it some sort of joke?” Steve grits out, still unable to look at Jeff’s face.

“No, man,” Jeff replies, doing that same shoulder clasp thing he’d done last time he’d been in Steve’s car while he was upset. “He’s just been working through some stuff.”

“So he’s…” he finally shifts his gaze toward Jeff, hoping to convey his question without having to say it aloud.

“Seems so,” Jeff replies.

And Steve shudders, all those same feelings he’d been working so hard to suppress bubbling back to the surface, the most dangerous of all being hope.

“Are you going to go?” Jeff asks, voice even enough not to show his opinion on the decision one way or another.

Steve swallows, throat dry. “I don’t know.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, and when he calls Chrissy later that night, she asks the same thing.

“Are you going to go?” she asks breathlessly, like she’s hanging on his every word.

Steve sighs. “He said he might be gay, Chris. What if we go out and he’s wrong?”

Left unmentioned is the niggling voice in the back of his head still insisting that the whole thing is some sort of cruel prank to get back at him. He’d lied, and strung him along, and gotten him hurt. No matter how many times Eddie apologizes, Steve knows he’s not really the one that should be.

“What if he’s right?” she asks.

Steve knows, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to go, just at the chance that Chrissy’s right, that Eddie’s right, that Jeff’s right. Steve desperately wants to be wrong. 

***

Steve doesn’t show any outward appearance of having received the letter. Eddie watches, obsessively trying to catch even the barest hint of what he thinks of the note– if, when he knocks on the Harrington’s front door, he’ll open it.

He keeps looking, and looking, and finally, blessedly, when Eddie looks, Steve’s looking back. Their eyes lock, and such a wave of relief courses through Eddie that he, like a fucking idiot, waves at him. Steve stares, mouth open, and does absolutely nothing back.

Eddie looks down at the table, whole body aflame with mortification, hair dangling messily into Doug’s mashed potatoes.

“Dude,” Doug says, shoving Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him away from his precious lunch.

“You good?” Jeff asks, leaning across the table to poke at Eddie’s bowed head like it’s potentially diseased roadkill he found on the side of the street.

“He hates me!” Eddie whines, turning his head just enough to glance towards Steve’s table, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth.

Steve’s not there at all anymore.

“Harrington?” Gareth questions around the bite of apple lodged in his throat. “Aren’t you trying to steal his girlfriend?”

“Of course no—not anymore!” Eddie stutters, turning his head the other direction to glare at Gareth instead.

For his part, Gareth just looks down at him, supremely unimpressed. “Uh huh,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet even when very obviously fed up. “Is this more secret bullshit you’re refusing to tell me?”

“It’s not my secret!” Eddie hisses, finally removing his head from the table so he can crouch on it instead, leaning over Gareth like a gargoyle. “And I promised!”

“Bet you told Wayne,” Gareth mutters.

“Oh my god, I told Wayne!” Eddie cries, dropping off the bench entirely to crawl under the table where he belongs. It’s not like there’s anyone in the room right now that he wants to impress—he already scared Harrington off.

“Dude,” is all Jeff says, peering under the table to look down at him judgmentally. “Chrissy is going to kill you.”

Eddie clutches his hair hard enough that it hurts. “It’s Wayne! He doesn’t count,” Eddie whines, “does he?”

Jeff snorts, kicking his foot out until the toe of his sneaker connects softly with Eddie’s kneecap. “He doesn’t count,” he starts, continuing before Eddie’s even slumped with relief, “to you.”

When Eddie slinks out from beneath the table, Steve’s spot is still empty, and Chrissy’s sitting there, glaring across the cafeteria at Eddie like she can just sense that he didn’t keep his vow of secrecy.

God, girls are scary.

He avoids looking in her direction the rest of lunch, picking at his own potatoes and mushy peas just for something to do.

Steve’s not going to open the door—he knows that. But, even still, he wakes up early on Friday morning to sneak into Mrs. Johnson’s yard to carefully cut a few of her sunflowers, ducking low enough that the bushes in front of her windows will obscure him.

When he’s done, he’s got five perfect sunflowers, tied together with the brown shoelace he’d stolen from a pair of Wayne’s old boots.

He leaves them in the kitchen, awkwardly propped into a bowl full of water since the Munson’s aren’t the kind of family to own a vase, or even a tall enough glass, apparently.

By the time Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift, Eddie’s elbow-deep in a trash bag in the back of his van. Wayne peers through the propped-open doors, eyebrows already raised as Eddie freezes, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

“What’re ya doing, boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie stares, brain full of ants and TV static as he fumbles for an answer. What comes out of his mouth is “I asked Steve out!”

Wayne’s lips quirk up, and he’s smirking at Eddie as if to say, see? told ya, the smug bastard. But all he says is, “is that so?” drawling and easy like he’s not acting all-knowing and superior.

Eddie groans and takes his hand out of the garbage bag to run it through his hair and pull. “Or I left him a note?” he says, gut churning as Wayne’s face drops to his more customary frown. “Oh my god, he’s not going to show!”

“Then why’re you cleaning your van out?”

Eddie puffs up, glaring back at Wayne now. “Well I’m going to show up, Wayne!” he replies, voice shrill. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wayne snorts when Eddie calls himself a man, just like he always does, but his lips are quirked up again, looking almost proud as he replies, “good man,” with only a slightly mocking intonation. “Want some help?”

They get all the trash out in a matter of minutes. When it becomes clear that the vacuum cleaner can’t reach no matter how close they park the van, Wayne comes back out with the broom from the kitchen and they sweep as much debris as they can from inside before Eddie steals the comforter from his own bed and lays it across the back carpet, masking the weird stains.

Wayne finishes it off with a spritz of his own rarely-used cologne, covering up any remaining funky smells. Even so, Eddie elects to leave the windows rolled down to air it out for as long as possible.

When Wayne notices his commandeered shoelace around the sunflowers, he doesn’t say a thing.

Then, he’s forced to go to school, wiling away the hours until he’s standing in front of the Harrington’s front door, boots shined for the first time in his life, sunflowers clutched in shaking hands, van parked neatly behind him, hair brushed into submission. He’d even used his fancy conditioner, thoughts of that half-remembered first letter waxing poetic about his hair fueling his action. 

All for a boy who won’t answer the door.

But, Eddie’s a man of his word, so he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He waits such a long time that he jumps when the door opens, breath catching as he looks at Steve Harrington, face-to-face for the first time since that disastrous day in his living room. His mostly-healed eye aches with remembered pain, his ribs cold with the absence of Steve’s hands.

He’s missed looking at him.

Steve’s in light-wash jeans, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a green sweater that makes the gold in his eyes pop, even in the dim light from the Harrington’s porch light. He looks good, put together enough for a first date, casual enough to just be his everyday clothes.

Eddie’s heartbeat flickers with something that feels alarmingly like hope.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

He smiles, trying to be charming, but he’s never done this before, doesn’t know how to contort his face. He holds out the sunflowers, arm awkwardly extending, hoping desperately that his offering will be accepted.

Steve stares down at them, hand still clutching the door like he’s one second away from slamming it closed in Eddie’s face. Eddie holds his breath, heartbeat ratcheting up from the oxygen deprivation.

Steve reaches out, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he tries to take the flowers from him. Eddie’s fingers stay clenched around the stems for a second too long, hand following the flowers trajectory toward Steve’s own chest until Eddie forces his hand open and lets it drop uncomfortably back to his side.

Steve stares down at them, leaning down to take a sniff. Eddie winces—they don’t smell like much, just dirt and nebulous green things. But Steve smiles, just a tiny, little thing that hits Eddie’s body like electroshock therapy.

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly, not looking away from the sunflowers as he asks, “come inside while I put them in some water?”

Steve swings the door open wider, and Eddie slides past him and into the Harrington’s house. As Steve wanders further inside, Eddie stands in the entrance—foyer?—feeling remarkably out of place. Even from here, he can see enough negative space to house twenty-odd people, a vaulted ceiling, and is that a chandelier? Eddie doesn’t step a toe off the mat beneath his feet, afraid his very presence will stain the perfect white interior.

He shouldn’t be here. Places like this aren’t for the Munson’s of the world. They’re for royalty, kings and queens, and all the upper crust that spits down on the rest of them. But when Steve comes back, sans sunflowers, he’s smiling just a little, tromping his own shoes over the white carpet like he doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here either. Maybe it’s possible to carve out a space for him in the Munson’s shitty trailer, however small.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, still smiling just this side of awkward. “What’re we doing?”

As Eddie holds Steve Harrington’s own front door open for him to step through, Eddie’s mind’s buzzing with maybes.

***

Eddie’s van smells like mothballs and cologne, and the radio’s quietly playing the sort of generic pop music Steve usually mumbles along to on his way to school. But, Eddie’s fingers are twitching against the wheel, and he hasn’t said a word since they’d climbed in, so Steve sits on his own hands and keeps his mouth shut.

The longer the silence drags on, the more Steve regrets ever opening the door at all. Eddie pulls into Hawkins’ drive-in, and buys their tickets and two bags of popcorn. Steve’s hand clenches in his lap, Eddie’s words to Chrissy all that time ago running through his head—we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time.

“I hope this is okay?” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence as he spins the dial to the correct channel to catch the movie. “I wasn’t sure if you liked horror, but this is all that’s playing this weekend, and I’ve been wanting to watch it so—”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and it is.

He’s never been much for horror beyond putting it on for dates so he has a built-in excuse to reach out. But, he’s not squeamish, and maybe those same thoughts are running through Eddie’s head: an excuse to reach out and touch.

But, as the title card flashes SLEEPAWAY CAMP in big, boxy font, all Eddie does is reach into his popcorn bag and stuff a handful into his mouth. Steve follows suit, the buttery kernels turning to ash on his tongue.

He watches with little enthusiasm as the stupid teenagers on screen fool around and get torn apart. Eddie makes little comments throughout the movie, but there’s nothing Steve can grasp onto.

What does one say to, “whoa, blood fountain,” or “god, that kid’s a douche,” or, “they should’ve killed him sooner.”

Steve still tries, humming and nodding along and verbalizing his own agreements. Eddie never responds, just keeps stuffing his mouth with popcorn until the bag’s empty. Steve stares down at his own mostly-full bag and wonders if the separate bags were just to make sure they didn’t accidentally brush hands. 

He hands his own popcorn over, and Eddie grabs it twitchily, muttering a “thanks, dude,” without really looking at Steve at all.

Steve just wants to go home, crawl into his own bed, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But he just sits there, silent as the movie plays on. He doesn’t understand the end, but he missed so much of the beginning and middle that he barely questions it.

When it’s over, Eddie turns the dial back to that same, nondescript station that doesn’t fit him at all, fingers clenching hard enough on the wheel that Steve can hear it creak under the strain. Steve turns away, to look out the window, throat clogged up with feelings he doesn’t want to think about.

The longer this date drags on, the more excruciatingly clear it becomes that whatever is driving Eddie to this, it’s not him returning Steve’s feelings. This isn’t how dates go when you’re excited about them, there’s nothing clicking into place–it doesn’t even seem like Eddie’s trying.

He feels small, and sad, and every minute that passes with Eddie saying absolutely nothing at all only makes Steve feel more like a charity case that Eddie’s taken pity on. 

He never should have listened to Chrissy and Jeff’s encouragement. They’d both been so hopeful that he’d caved, but they’re not the ones stuck in the devastatingly uncomfortable moment. It’s just him and Eddie, living with the fact that Steve’s got a crush on a boy that can never like him back.

There’s no coming back from this, no matter how nice Eddie tries to be about it. Because he is nice, no matter how he’s been acting the past few weeks.

Steve’s the problem—always has been, always will be.

So, he stews in the silence, watching the same familiar buildings pass him by like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. And maybe it will be, if Eddie decides to be not so nice. This was all so catastrophically, unbelievably stupid from that very first letter all the way to this moment, stuck in a van with a boy that won’t even look at him. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until Eddie’s pulling into a familiar clearing in the quarry. His headlights illuminate the skid marks Steve’s car had made in the dirt when he’d screeched to a halt to stop Jason Carver from rearranging his face.

Eddie slides into park much more levelly and cuts the engine. The quiet is absolute, made worse by the darkness surrounding them. Steve can hear the crinkle of Eddie shifting on his seat, the sound of his throat as he gulps like he’s about to go off to war.

 “I thought—” Eddie starts before petering off as his voice breaks. Steve listens to him take a few shuddering breaths before starting again. “I thought we could star gaze?”

Steve sighs, slumping back into his seat, so unbelievably tired. “Eddie—”

“Unless you don’t want to!” Eddie rushes out. “I just thought…”

Steve would kill to know what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t pick up his trailing sentence, just leaves it hanging in the silence between them. Steve sighs again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperate to keep an even keel.

“Look, Eddie” Steve starts, turning toward Eddie. He can see the silhouette of his frame hunched over in the driver’s seat, but his face is a black void for Steve to project upon. It makes him brave. “You don’t have to do this. You, like, tried it out, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Steve—”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve cuts in, exhausted. “You can just drop me off at home, and we can go our separate ways.”

Eddie makes a sound like a strangled cat, and then his silhouette lunges across the distance between their seats. Steve jerks back, head banging painfully into the window as Eddie’s mouth mashes against his, more teeth than lips.

PART 19

Shoutout, once again, to my beta reader and friend @queenie-ofthe-void for this one!!! I struggled for weeks on the date, and then they said, "what if you just make it as awkward as possible," and then I wrote this entire date in a day. Truly a muse for me <3<3<3

[hannieehaee]

hi can i req ff that “really nice guy to everyone but you” thank youu

them being really nice guy to everyone but you

content: sort of enemies to lovers implied, not angsty at all, implied repressed crush, etc.

wc: 651

a/n: i've never heard this concept before so im assuming its some sort of repressed crush type of thing(?) sorry if i got it wrong</3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's petty and stubborn, so this game could last forever to him. he'd want to be very obvious in his niceness towards other people in front of you whilst just completely disrespecting your existence. it'd give him satisfaction when he'd see you fume at him. maybe it was something he needed to externalize to understand why it pleased him so much.

jeonghan -

god you're the biggest target to his pranks and teasing. wont leave you alone ever. he just finds so much entertainment out of making you miserable. unlike with other people where he'll prank them half the time and be a caring angel the other half, you just get a demon out of him 24/7.

joshua -

he's a cocky bastard in your presence. he's the perfect gentleman to everyone else but you never really get to see that side of him. what's worse is that he'll only ever smile at you when he know's he's getting under your skin, and it's always a smile of satisfaction.

jun -

he would not have even meant to be mean to you right off the bat but somehow things ended up like this. so now he's just kind of a dick around you whilst being his easygoing self with everyone else. you're mean in return so it kind of works out.

soonyoung -

he'd slip up sometimes, lost in staring at you in the midst of what was supposed to be some weirdly mean interaction between you. you'd probably know that he liked you beneath all the rudeness, but it'd be fun to play around with him.

wonwoo -

he'd drive you insane with how soft and sweet he is with everyone other than you. you'd feel dejected at first, but at some point you'd treat him exactly the same. this would either lead to sone amazing slowburn between you or someone being killed off the friend group. no in between.

jihoon -

it'd be easy for him to be perceived as mean by you. he didn't even have to try, he was just a little dismissive by nature anyways. he'd never actually be too outwardly mean, but he'd be able to get away with it the most.

seokmin -

it'd be obvious to everyone that he didn't mean it. he could never be mean a day of his life. he'd try very hard to make it seem like he didn't like you, but he'd snap out of it sooner or later, making amends and treating you as nicely as he did everyone else.

mingyu -

he'd be cocky as hell around you, giving you snide remarks left and right. he just loved when you'd fight back, insulting him twice as hard and even attempting to go after his gigantic physique.

minghao -

it'd bug you how obvious he'd make it. he'd give you a dirty look one second and the next he'd be hugging someone as he greeted them. it'd piss you off, but the mere reaction from you would just get him to amp it up even more.

seungkwan -

when you realized this special mean treatment was reserved for you only, a war would start between you. it'd become a battle to see who could be meanest to the other. it'd be painfully obvious to everyone else that you liked each other behind all that meanness.

vernon -

he's just so annoyingly indifferent around you, it'd drive you crazy. he's not even mean, he just ignores you .... except when you're not looking. all his friends would know the truth, but he'd keep the act up in front of you.

chan -

would be weirdly standoffish and a show off in front of you just to piss you off. knows all your pet peeves and ticks and takes advantage of that. classic example of trying to get your attention by being rude and basking in it even if its only ever to tell him he's annoying and a loser.

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 14

Here we are again at the end. I'm sad to see this one go. It was a real challenge to see if I could write heavier smut and the answer is "eh, so-so". There should have been more nudity and sex in this thing than there was, but after the fight with Tumblr over the stripper tag I just gave up trying to even tag things properly anymore. Because of the fucking purity police.

But this gets racy. As racy as I get.

So thanks for one hell of a ride!

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

~

Steve flopped on their sofa with a whine. “Robin... dancing with him just the two of us is going to kill me. I just know it.”

Robin looked over at him from the kitchen with an impressed eyebrow. “You know who to blame.”

“Chrissy,” they said together.

“If she had been dating you,” Steve huffed, laying lengthwise on the sofa and putting his right arm behind his head, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey!” she protested. “There is no way that that literal goddess is ever going to date a peon like me.”

Steve lobbed a pillow straight at her head. “Only one of us gets to mope at a time, and it’s my turn. Plus you aren’t a pee-on or whatever it was you called yourself. I bet she thinks you’re hot.”

Robin came over with the two bowls of stew she had reheated and handed one to Steve, who promptly sat up straight so she had a place to sit.

“There is no fucking way,” she huffed around a bite of carrot. “Did you see the way she danced with the new Wrath? Micaela has all the right moves, who would want me when they could have that?”

Micaela looked like a Greek statue come to life. She perfect olive toned skin, deep brown eyes and the perfect pout to her lips. She was also married to a guy named Paul, who did construction for a living and didn’t care about the stripping as long as it made her happy.

“I’m pretty sure Paul would take issue with that,” he huffed. “Besides, I’ll make a bet. I’ll ask her tomorrow if she thinks you’re hot and when I win, you have to do laundry for the next month.”

Robin shrieked in outrage. “There is no way, Mr. Clothes Horse that I am going to wash that many clothes for a month.”

“Oh so you agree,” Steve said batting his eyelashes, “that you know she thinks you’re hot?”

She began sputtering and squawking, finally she settled down with her stew and very mumbled, “Curses foiled again.”

Steve kissed her cheek and turned on “Unsolved Mysteries”.

“This show was creepier in the eighties,” she huffed. “Now most of the time it’s just supernatural shit. Robert Stack would appalled.”

Steve waved her off, “Shush! I want to hear about the Chicago Moth Man.”

~

Steve bounded up to Chrissy the next day, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey-ya, hot stuff!”

Chrissy threw her head back and laughed. “What’s happening, yourself, you goober?”

“So...” he began, rocking back on his heels and then back on his toes, “so I have this bet with Robin. If I win she has to do the laundry for a month and if she wins, I have to tell Eddie I like him.”

“Oohh,” Chrissy said, rubbing her hands together, “I almost want to see you lose so you have to tell him. What’s the bet?”

“That you don’t think she’s hot. I said you do, she thinks you don’t.”

Steve smirked as he saw the complete indecision warring on her face. “Damn it.” She stomped one foot dramatically. “That’s really not fair, Steve...”

His grin widened and he knew he had won. “I’ll tell you what, you let me win the bet and I’ll have you help choreograph a dance that will knock all of Eddie’s clothes right off.”

“Tell Robin that not only do I think she’s hot,” Chrissy said returning his grin, “but also tell her to be ready next Tuesday at seven, because I’m taking her out on a date.”

Steve gave her a fist bump and walked away, back to where a very anxious Robin stood, twisting a cloth napkin to death.

“I win,” he said smugly, “and you have a date on Tuesday at seven. Dress nice, but not fancy.”

Robin sputtered and stammered. “I would have thought at the very least she would have gone my way if for the very reason one of you to boneheads needs to say something because even long time regulars are starting to notice the friction between the two of you will light this place on fire.”

“Oh I totally bribed her,” Steve said, smirk never faltering for a moment, “I told her she could help choreograph a dance to actually seduce Eddie.”

“You are so smug,” she said through gritted teeth, pinching his cheek. “I don’t have anything to wear, you know this right?”

Steve waved her off, smacking her hand away. “Go on a shopping trip, it’s not like you’re broke. Hell, we’ll go tomorrow before work. Make you the prettiest butch lesbian there ever was.” He patted her cheek firmly. “Now, I’m going to go shake my ass.”

He walked off as Chrissy walked up to her. “Hey, gorgeous,” she purred, “I’m assuming Steve told you about our date?”

Robin nodded, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you thought that about me.”

Chrissy leaned over the counter, putting her boobs on display. She played with one of Robin’s many necklaces. “I thought that when you got hired, sweetie. This is just me finally taking the plunge.”

She licked her lips slowly as Robin’s cheeks turned bright red, causing her freckles to really stand out.

“Oh.”

Chrissy chuckled. “Such a pretty little thing. I think you have me a disadvantage, Robin.”

“How’s that?” Robin asked, amazed it didn’t come out as complete gibberish. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t even see straight, every fiber of her being was focused on that single point of contact where Chrissy had a hold of her necklace.

“You’ve seen me naked and covered in chocolate sauce,” Chrissy purred, “and I was curious to see if that was on offer.”

How Robin didn’t immediately devolve into a complete buffoon, she had no idea. “Never on the first date.” She almost squeaked when she realized the words that had just come out of her mouth. That’s it. This wasn’t Hellfire Club, this was Heaven. She had died. Clearly.

“Duly noted,” Chrissy said, straightening up. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Robin nodded and Chrissy waved goodbye over her shoulder. Joe who was the head waiter and her boss patted her on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it too personally,” he said with a huff of laughter. “I’ve seen lesser lesbians turn into gibbering hound dogs when she does that. She’s just a softy, really, she just also loves to blue screen the hell out of potential dates.”

Robin turned to him. “Why is that?”

“Because she wants to set the expectation that she is a stripper,” Joe said with a shrug. “She’s good at her job and she isn’t going to quit for anyone. So if she goes super sexual out of the gate and the person doesn’t mind it, then she knows it’s a safe bet.”

“Oh.”

That made more sense than it didn’t. But now she had figure out how to date the hottest woman Robin had ever met. No pressure.

Right?

~

To say Steve was nervous would be an understatement. He was about to turn an already sexually charged dance between him and Eddie and turn the dial all the up to eleven. He’s not even sure if it could be called “simulated” sex, when they were both going to get naked for a crowd, but it was definitely going to be something.

He had been slowly ramping up the tension between him and Eddie with each week and it was the last Saturday of the month and he was about to blow something. Eddie’s mind or his fucking job.

He really, really hoped it wasn’t his job.

They did their trio dance and Lilith slunk off stage, leaving behind Lucifer and Samael. The looks they were giving each other could have set that stage on fire. Steve was already most of the way red and his wings were tattered. It would not take much for Samael to fall. And fall tonight, he most certainly would.

Steve started out slow. He wanted to make Eddie come to him. He ran his hands all up and down his chest. One hand went up to his throat while the other dipped to press the heel of hand against his aching erection.

The moaned he released was not faked.

Both hands touched his cheeks and then dug into his hair, his hips thrusting out. The audience was hooked but the person he wanted was Eddie.

Lucifer watched with hooded eyes as Steve made love to himself. Then the water fell on Steve’s head and he ripped off his top. The wings were skeletal now, the last bit of feathers having been washed away with all the white.

He was standing there in red boots and g-string, head back and chest out.

The growl from Eddie was primal and Steve wasn’t sure if it was Lucifer or Eddie who made the sound.

But it didn’t matter, it did the job.

Eddie stalked across the stage and pulled their bodies flush together. He lifted one of Steve’s legs up and unzipped the boot, gently pulling it off. That leg went tightly around Eddie’s waist and he did the same with the other leg.

Soon Steve was only wearing the g-string, completely wrapped around Eddie, who was still fully dressed.

With his hand firmly on Steve’s back, Steve lowered himself backwards, arching his back, like those Renaissance painting of fallen angels and deposed saints.

With his free hand Eddie ripped off the harness with the wings tossing them aside to be picked up by one of the other dancers. Then that hand slid over Steve’s chest, down to the front of Steve’s thong and ripped that off as well.

The gasp from the audience and then the roar when Eddie tossed at them was loud.

Not that Steve could hear them over the rush of blood to his head. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely due to hanging upside down or the fact that the only thing that separated him from Eddie was the leather pants he wore as Pride.

Steve wrapped both arms around Eddie’s neck and began to grind against him.

Eddie forcibly set him down and pushed him away.

Steve had nothing to worry about because he knew this was part of the dance and turned toward the patrons.

He danced, reveling in his now naked form, showing off and simpering to the crowd. Then he’s yanked back, into Eddie’s arms.

He smirked and pushed Eddie away, turning back to the crowd. Eddie yanked on his arm again but instead of pulling him close, he pushed him to ground.

Steve stared up at him, propped up on his elbows as he scooted away from Eddie, toward the edge of the stage.

Eddie pulled on his tear away leather pants, leaving him only in the black combat boots he wore.

He stood, straddled over Steve and then knelt on one knee, running his hands over Steve’s torso and then pushed him all the way to ground.

Steve’s arms came up and his hands roamed over Eddie’s legs and ass. Eddie’s other knee hit the stage with a loud thump, causing the audience to jump. They were that enthralled with what was going on on stage.

Eddie slithered down Steve’s body and they both moaned together.

Steve was no longer sure where his body ended and Eddie’s started. It was like they were one.

Eddie stood up and as he straightened, he flipped Steve so he was on his stomach. He knelt back over Steve’s prone body and lifted his head by his hair. Steve knew to rise with it so it didn’t actually hurt, but fuck it was sexy as hell.

And the crowd thought so too.

Steve rose on his arms, stretching his back, like a mermaid pose, head back. Then he went straight down again slapping the stage to make it sound harder than it was.

He rolled over and looked up at Eddie. Eddie beckoned him to him and Steve followed, hypnotized. Entranced.

They danced together, their bodies moving as one.

Then with the dying beats of the song, Eddie dipped Steve, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

The audience went...well wild was too tame a word. Feral. They went absolutely feral.

Someone handed them garters for them put on and get money stuffed into. Once all the money that was stuffed the garters and thrown on the stage was gathered up, Steve and Eddie stumbled into Eddie’s office/dressing room.

Mouths and hands everywhere as they tried to touch as much as possible. As they were already naked or mostly there all it took was a quick tumble onto the sofa and they were really going at it.

“Baby,” Eddie huffed. “I was so hard, I almost came twice.”

Steve moaned underneath him. “Only twice? God if I didn’t have an ex-boyfriend who liked edging me I would’ve come several times.”

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows to look Steve in the eye. “We going to unpack that later when we are both sane again, but for right now I need to see you come!”

“Deal!” Steve cried as Eddie ground down.

The sex was short and explosive, as they had been turned on pretty much from the get go.

Eddie collapsed against Steve’s cum covered chest causing him to let out a pained huff.

“Where the fuck did you learn to dance like that?” Eddie complained. “Have you been holding back on me?”

Steve chuckled. “I had Chrissy help choreograph that in exchange for getting her a date with Robin.”

“That sneaky little minx,” he said with a fond shake of his head. “She is in so much trouble for that.”

“Hey,” Steve protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

There was silence for a beat.

“It did work, right?” he asked shyly.

Eddie raised his head to look him in the eye. “I guess that depends on your end game, if I’m honest.”

“I’m in love with you, Eddie,” Steve said his voice shaking just a little with the raw emotion of it all. “I want to take you dates, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know how you take your eggs so I can make you breakfast in bed. I want it all, with you.”

Eddie sat up and pulled Steve with him. “I want that too. I’m love with you, too. I’ve always been attracted to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to Chrissy, you defended my club against Nancy and Jason, you made it possible for me to really turn this club into something really special. It was good before you came, but you made it great. Of course I want to be your boyfriend, Stevie. I’d be upset if you didn’t want that, too.”

Steve surged forward and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Okay.”

Steve really didn’t feel like walking through the throng of people waiting to get paid, so Eddie loaned him some clothes.

When Eddie opened the door everyone cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Just remember I’m still your boss. Speaking of which, let’s get you people paid.”

Jeff and Chrissy came forward the locked box and the tip jar. Eddie counted the money, but instead of Steve on the other side of the desk like he used to do, Steve sat on the corner of the desk watching Eddie work.

After everyone had gotten paid they all shuffled out except Robin, Chrissy, and Jeff.

“Nice to see you two finally worked it out,” Jeff said with a huff of laughter. “I was about to embarrass the hell out of Eddie if something didn’t change by tonight.”

Eddie shuddered. “Glitter and stickers. So many stickers.”

Jeff grinned broadly.

Robin handed Steve a bag. “This has all your stuff in it, like your clothes, wallet, cell phone, and keys. I don’t want to see you home until sometime tomorrow.” She cocked her head to the side. “Mainly because I’m making out with my girlfriend tonight and really don’t want you there.”

She winked at him and then grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and hauled her out of there. Chrissy squawked and wave goodbye, yelling her congratulations over her shoulder as she was dragged along.

“And that’s me out of here, too,” Jeff said jutting his thumb at the retreating pair. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

Once everyone was gone, Steve smiled down at Eddie.

“Tomorrow,” he said wistfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“I like the sound of an infinity of tomorrows,” Eddie replied.

“Me too.”

They kissed again and walked out to their cars. Steve followed Eddie to his apartment, and just like in the rest of Eddie’s life, just never really left.

Soon he was spending most of his time over there, sometimes for sex, but mostly just being himself.

One Tuesday night when they were curled up on the sofa, Eddie asked him to move in for real.

“I’d really like that,” he murmured against Eddie’s lips.

Steve thought back to that fateful day when Robin came home from getting the job at the club, telling him that a dancer position just opened up and they were desperate. He hadn’t really stripped in a long time, the stripper-cize classes excluded. Those really weren’t the same thing as actually stripping.

But money was running out and he was out of options. So he auditioned using that silly song, hoping to stand out just enough to get the job.

And it instead changed his life.

“I love you, my little devil,” Steve purred.

Eddie’s returning smile was blinding. “And I love you too, angel.”

They kissed happily in their ever after.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE!

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup @micheledawn1975

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

I’m a transfem Christian, and sometimes I worry that I’m twisting Christianity to suit my politics and views rather than the reverse. I was raised as a Southern Baptist and left for the Episcopal Church, with the conservatism of the former church being a large reason for my departure. I really don’t want to have to chose between either being able to transition and being a good Christian, but I’m so worried that I’ll have to make that choice.

Hey there, I am so sorry for the delay in responding to this. I don't for a second believe you are "twisting" Christianity to suit your views by living into your true self:

Jesus tells us that we can know a thing by its fruit — if the fruit is good, the tree is good; if the fruit is bad, the tree is bad (Luke 6:43-45; Matthew 7:15-20).

What are the fruits of transition? Joy, community, reconnection with your own body? Life?

What are the fruits of the things preached by ultra conservative churches? Hatred, fear of difference, violence? Deportation instead of love of stranger, judgment instead of mercy, control via terror instead of liberation through God's love?

Near the end of this webpage of mine about a liberatory framework for reading scripture, I address the accusation that queer Christians are just "reading into" the Bible what we want to see. To sum it up, I agree that all people bring our biases to the text — heck, the biblical authors brought their own biases to the text!

“The truth is, you can bend Scripture to say just about anything you want it to say. You can bend it until it breaks. For those who count the Bible as sacred, interpretation is not a matter of whether to pick and choose, but how to pick and choose. We’re all selective. We all wrestle with how to interpret and apply the Bible in our lives. We all go to the text looking for something, and we all have a tendency to find it." - Rachel Held Evans

Many theologians say that when we accept both our own biases and the biases of the people who wrote, edited, and compiled the books of the Bible, the best way to determine what is Divine in scripture is to follow The Rule of Love:

"Any interpretation of scripture is wrong that shows indifference or contempt for any individual or group inside or outside the church. All right interpretations reflect the love of God...for all kinds of people everywhere, everyone included and no one excluded.”

- Shirley Guthrie

The webpage offers more details about this way of reading the Bible, if you are interested. But at the end of the day, the main thing I hope you can come to believe not only in your head but in your heart and your body is that you are beloved. That God created you exactly as you are with purpose and delight. That you have vital gifts to share with the world that the Body of Christ is not whole without.

If you need further assurance through theology, I invite you to check out Austen Hartke's Transgender and Christian YouTube series.

You may also find Rev. Nicole Garcia's story encouraging; she's a trans pastor who once said that she has experienced two vocations in life: one to ordained ministry, and one to being a woman.

God is calling you, too. I pray that you can feel Their presence and love in your life -- even when it's hard to believe in it yourself. <3

(For more, I have a trans tag and an affirmation tag and trans women tag and also an FAQ you might like to peruse through)

[everlastingdream]

Part 1 - Part 7 - Part 8

Kara bathed in the artificial light, feeling her powers restoring. But it didn't help with her tangled thoughts at all.

J'onn and Alex was planning a mission, Winn was checking the equipment. And Lena...

After declaring that Lilian Luthor was the culprit, Lena's image blurred even with Winn's device still working. She silently took a step outside of the room to disappear completely.

Lena looked really shaken. But then she appeared ten minutes later, face resolute, only to start helping Winn. They seem able to communicate through gestures alone and judging by his exclamations Lena made some good suggestions.

Honestly speaking, Kara was shaken herself. It's not that she was that afraid to face Lilian Luthor, but the thought about the fact that the woman who called herself Lena's mother (even just for the sake of public appearances) tried to kill her... Anger started to boil inside Kara. For her cousin, for innocent people Luthor family hurt, and for Lena.

"Kara? Is everything alright?"

Alex stepped inside the room in dark googles which made her look silly, and Kara smiled despite the situation.

"Yes, thanks, Alex. I think I need another couple of minutes and we can start".

"It's good. But I'm still not sure if we need to do it now. It will be better if have another day or two to get ready".

"Maybe, but I agree with J'onn. We don't know if Lilian knows that we have Lena's files, so it's better to do it fast, even if we won't take her in custody".

"Yes-yes, I know. We'll do it like you both decided. But I was talking about you. Are you okay?" Her sister looked worried even in her funny googles.

"As much as I can", Kara said truthfully, closing her eyes. "I'm nervous about going into Cadmus base, knowing it can have kryptonite. And..."

Alex just waited for her to continue.

"I kinda don't want to go there. I will need to come to terms that Lena... I want to help, really. And I know it was just couple of days, but... I see her, Alex. I hear her. I talk with her. I... I don't want to see her dead body".

They just sat here in silence. Alex, a steady presence by her side. They both pretended that tears didn't slide down her cheeks.

/ / / / / / / / /

"Kara", Lena was floating near, once again visible to only one person.

"Yes, Lena?" Kara wanted to call her name again. To call her enough times so that her name is permanently etched inside her mind.

"Thank you for your help. If not for you... I would've been stuck inside that apartment for eternity. Meeting you was the best moment of my afterlife". Lena chuckled but it sounded wet. Kara couldn't bring herself to look at her.

"I'm glad to meet you too. Even if we didn't know each other for long, I enjoyed our time together".

They fell silent.

"What's your favorite color?" Lena suddenly blurted.

"Red", Kara smiled despite her surprise. "It was one of the colors of my House, and the color of Rao. What's yours?"

"I don't really remember. But I think it either green or blue".

"Not really a fair game of twenty questions."

"I'm a businesswoman, Kara. I'm not really fair".

Kara hoped that she would remember this smile for the long time.

/ / / / / / / / /

They played all the way to the base. Laughing and bickering like they knew each other for many years. And Alex and J'onn who was usually pretty strict about communication on missions didn't say a word.

But they quited down when the entrance to the underground base showed up.

The way inside was easier than expected so everyone was tense. Lena helped by looking through walls which allowed them not to waste time on unnecessary rooms. But they all were wary of letting her go too far because no one was sure what will happen if Lena found her body.

Kara was crossing the hall to one of the wings when doors locked on the both sides. She always thought it was funny. People could search up how she bents metals and crushes concrete but they still thought simple steel locks can stop her.

"Well-well-well, who do we have here? Hello Supergirl. What brought you to one of my facilites?" Speakers in the corners became active with the woman's voice.

"Where is Lena?" Kara asked with all the patience she could master, even if her hands clenched at her sides.

"And who are you to my daughter?"

"I'm a friend", Kara looked right into camera.

Lilian scoffed and judging by the quiet murmur from speakers gave a string of commands.

"Kara, Lilian's not here", Winn intervened in the ear, "I'll try to track her, but it'll be better if you just go find Lena".

Kara turned around, destroying the lock with lasers without any delay. There wasn't a point in listening to the psycopath.

"You can take her", suddenly sounded behind Kara's back. Lilian's voice was cold and sneering. "She was even more useless than I expected. Perhaps she'll have some purpose being your punching bag. After all, you even called 'Luthor' your friend. Surely there has to be at least some purpose like that".

Kara saw Lena freezing in front of her, almost half way to the next door. She was silent and apathetic as soon as they heard Lilian, blank face facing the wall. But now she started flickering rapidly, which looked a lot like trembling.

"Don't you dare talk about Lena like that!" Kara whirled around, powered by rage and an image of Lena's back, so small and vulnerable.

If Lilian was there perhaps Kara wouldn't be able to restrain herself. But now she just blasted a camera and speakers with a good part of the wall. Like from underneath the water she heard Alex's swearing and Winn's aggresive typing. Even if he won't be able to actually destroy Lilian Luthor, but she will have some big troubles after his intervention.

It actually helped Kara to calm down and speed up to Lena. It was another instance when she regreted deeply about being unable to hug her.

"She was always like that", Lena smiled weakly and went ahead without a word.

Kara, worried sick, went after her.

/ / / / / / / / /

They passed through underground complex, defeating mercenaries, who obviously lacked any real skills. Alex reported that back up teams did the same to the reinforcements outside.

Even if it was good, but it's kind of felt like an insult to have Lena guarded so poorly.

"Supergirl, next is the room around which all defences were made. So we think it's our target", Alex paused. "Good luck".

Kara nodded even if her sister couldn't actually see her. She crumpled door, so that no melted metal would hurt Lena's body.

They stood here, not really looking inside. And seeing Lena hesitate to step in the room made Kara feel like she needed to play hero just one more time for her. So she made the first step after a big sigh even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Room was small and crumpled. There was a table, a chair and a bed. Nothing to indicate that there was someone's daughter, sister, friend's body lying inside.

There really wasn't a chance that Kara's eyes wouldn't be drawn to Lena the moment they finally were in the same space.

Lena was- Lena's body was lying on the bed. It looked pale, deadly white, which made her raven hair look even darker in comparison. It was dressed in some kind of prison's rob.

Kara sobbed.

"It's a limited collection jacket, Kara!" She pouted, turning her head away.

"Sorry-sorry", Kara laughed gently, lifting her hands up. "I have no idea about wealthy people trends despite working for Cat Grant. The world of fashion changes too fast. But it suits you!"

"Thanks", Lena smiled shy, blushing just a tiniest bit.

She knew. She knew all along that Lena was dead. That when they find her body, Lena won't open her gorgeous green eyes to look and smile at her. That she won't be warm to the touch.

But still, standing there, face to face with reality, Kara couldn't help her tears.

"It's a shame I can't hug you", Lena whispered when she thought Kara fell asleep after talking about small nothings the day they decided to ask Alex for help. "I bet it would've felt nice. And safe".

She lowered on her knees beside the bed, gently taking Lena's hand in hers, flinching from the feeling of cold skin.

Ghost Lena gasped behind her. But all Kara could think about was grieving for a friend who's smile made her heart race. Who was lost forever because of stupid power play in which she didn't even want to participate.

"I really wish we met sooner", Lena said somber. "I would've loved to take you out for a dinner or, you know, hang out. I'm rich enough for you to eat freely with your kryptonian metabolism." She sighed softly.

Kara winked, feeling bolder after meeting Sam.

"I would've loved to hang out even if you didn't spent a cent. I'm not that kind of girl, you know".

Kara lowered her head to the palm of the cold hand, praying that Rao's light helps guide Lena. And then she heard it.

Badum-badum

Kara's own heart painfully squeezed inside her chest to the point of leaving her gasping for air.

She chocked on the tears, which now freely ran down her face.

Kara looked up, ignoring worried voices in her ear.

When her eyes met Lena's she knew that it was really true.

"Y-you are- you are alive..."

[better-than-sleeping]

A part of Richard's isolation from the group that I would like to put forward is this:

I truly do believe the group care for Richard as a friend, even when their relationships start to spiral out of control near the end. But that care isn't always present throughout their lives, the same way most people aren't constantly obsessing over their friend's feelings 24/7, and he cannot understand it.

It's not just the stuff you would typically think of that proves this to me, like the twins going out of their way to include him, companionable rambles with Bunny, making food with Francis. The most obvious instance of this is Richard being excluded from the Bacchanalia, and yes, this obviously sucks as someone trying so desperately to be included and a part of the group, but also makes so much sense from their perspective.

If Richard had been normal, he would have been so weirded out! This could be a convenient excuse, but it could just as easily be the group showing their own desires to be accepted by HIM, in a kind of reverse of roles that Richard naturally doesn't want to pick up on, because that would be seeing them human, and fallible, and SIMILAR TO HIMSELF. Unthinkable!

Something I've not seen discussed is the little aside when he first falls in with the group proper and relates that they had found him just as aloof as he had found them. Their inviting him to Francis's house was simply an urge to impress him, and I can't see any other way of reading it than that. If they had simply wanted to include him, but didn't care about how he saw them, they could have simply kept inviting him to their houses and out for lunch.

But, it's the moments that also double as little instances of ostracism that really interest me: Camilla saying Henry didn't want to do another pig ritual because he thought it would upset Richard, the group telling him they've already involved him enough and that he shouldn't participate in Bunny's murder. The general reading of this (that I've seen so far) seems to be that Henry did these things purposefully to keep Richard apart from the group, he didn't know him as well as the others, an unknown quantity, someone he didn't care for as much since he hadn't known him as long. But there's a lot of ambiguity there as well, and I think what makes things so compelling is that uncertainty. It could be purposeful, or unintentional, or some inextricable combination of the two.

(As an aside- ironically, I believe Henry may care about Richard the most out of anyone in the group. Helping him while he was sick, worried about seeing Richard drunk during the day, it's all rather sweet, and I don't believe it was entirely some machievellian scheme.)

However, I like to see the isolation as mostly, if not entirely unintentional, because that makes it so much more cutting to me. It's subtle. They don't put any special thought into doing it, they just…don't even think how these things could make him feel.

The worst part is, as far as I remember, Richard never fully engages with his feelings about this, but they are felt so much through the story and his actions within them. They are moments that sunk deep within his psyche like a stone that's dropped into water and swallowed immediately without a trace. It sits very still inside him, unmoveable.

His acceptance of these moments as they are happening to him is likely a result of his history of loneliness and being apart from others. There is nothing unusual to him about this, that it would require further thought from him within his narrative.

A large part of Richard's isolation is due to his glorification of the people he deems worthy, which continues even after he begins to see their flaws. Despite them, he still can't bear to see them torn down to his level, people he can relate to instead of glorify or look down upon. I think there is an element of self destruction to this, not wanting to understand so he has an excuse to punish himself for self perceived deficiencies.

It's very intriguing, this uncertainty of how much of Richard's isolation from the group is imagined, or perhaps even self imposed in a kind of feedback loop, where he feels pushed away and so pulls himself away from them, to anonymous parties with people he professes not to care about, takes pills and sleeps for days, to numb himself from the pain of their rejection.

And in the process, this feeling of isolation is enforced, becomes more a reality through the concrete evidence he has produced by himself. Maybe the group see his behaviour and think he needs space, they give it to him. He feels lonely, he says nothing. Because he would rather freeze to death than ask for help.

[carlos-in-glasses]

How are you dealing with Tarlos being over? I’m seriously not good. It helps that Ronen said they are best friends off screen but knowing that we will never see them together again is really making me sad.

Hello! Thank you for this question. Firstly, a huge internet hug for you because I really feel your pain 💔❤️❤️❤️❤️ and this is a topic we're all grappling with I'm sure. In terms of Tarlos as characters, I'm trying not to look at it as them being totally 'over' because they and the other characters can live on through art and fanfic, just like they did during the hiatuses between seasons. We didn't need 'new' canon content to keep creating. We just...kept creating. Although this was perhaps fuelled by looking forward to the show’s return, I don't see why that has to be all that different now. There are fandoms that revolve around single books, single movies, and thrive on a lot less content than we have to work with. 

However, I appreciate that you might not be a reader of fic, and indeed even if you are…..The show itself and the physical portrayal of these characters is certainly ending far too soon, and honestly I fucking hate that. I feel sad in my body. I'd go as far to say I'm actually bitter about it, and bitterness is a horrible, horrible feeling! I keep thinking – if we hadn't had a season 3, we'd have missed out on so many amazing moments on screen, culminating in the proposal. If we hadn't had a season 4, we'd have missed out on the soulmates scene and the wedding! No season 5, no seeing TK being flung onto a dresser, no dancing at the party, none of the Enzo/Jonah/Carlos' investigation stuff that I'm LOVING. Which leaves me with this strong ache as I wonder what we are missing out on with no season 6, 7, 8... 

So, the silver lining is that the fandom will make the best out of a shit situation creatively, but it is a shit situation in reality. I think it's absolutely fine for us to mourn this loss and be there for each other, because those of us who profoundly love this show and Tarlos are all in it together and understand the magnitude. I am certainly in a weird state of grief not related to death but related to this different kind of loss, and there will always be part of me hurting over this thing I love so much. I only found the show after season 3 and it just doesn't feel like I've had enough time with it. I haven’t had enough fun!

I hope we do get to see Ronen and Rafa reunite again from time to time. They’ll be at the Paris convention in December, and maybe others along the way if their schedules allow. I was lucky enough to go to the one in June last year and Ronen, Rafa, Natacha and Sierra certainly did appear to be very close irl, so definitely do take heart in that – it’s a reason to believe we’ll get at least glimpses of them together going forward.

So yeah. I’m finding good things where I can in all this, but the headline is that I really am sad and struggling too, and I’m so sorry you are and I hope you’re able to fill your day with things that help you to feel a bit better. I hope everyone who reads this is able to do the same.

[sgiandubh]

Caitriona didn’t mention Tony. Seems the ‘reporter’ utilized Google. 😂

Dear Didn't Mention Anon,

It's always a sarcastic pleasure to see tension climbing for literally nothing across the street. Some other Brazilian Anon, just like you (best way to convey your thoughts was, in proper English, 'the reporter used Google' - not the Portuguese semantic calque 'utilized'...), even speculated we must be hiding this shattering press article, since no reaction and/or discussion happened as of yet.

Brazilian Anons would certainly have made better use of their time and grey cells if they simply presumed that in another time zone people really have other (simple and boring and prehaps even endearing) things to do. While Brazilan Anons were probably sleeping or having breakfast, someone else was just about to end a shorter Friday work schedule, buy Chinese takeaway on the way home, have a light lunch, take out Baby the Lab for a short pee stroll around the block. And mercifully collapse in flannel sheets for a blessed siesta, waiting for the first snowy day of the year. But enough about me, Anon, you are not here for this: you are here for that article - https://www.mindfood.com/article/caitriona-balfe-looks-ahead-to-life-after-outlander/

It is also an amusing factoid that C's PR and/or *** very often seem to favor second-tier media outlets in order to keep spreading around the Narrative Word. Pinoy regional gazettes, borderline clickbait/gossip websites and now Mindfood, a vanity/hybrid press magazine based and edited in New Zealand and Australia by McHugh Media Group, which main activity, at least in Oz, is (🥁🥁)...paper mills and paper manufacturing - of course.

[Source: https://www.dnb.com/business-directory/company-profiles.mchugh_media_australia_pty_limited.6ded585ed8e21b347589059682b44143.html]

Within that group, the Mindfood project is but an apparently lucrative subsidiary ('integrated media company', LOL), despite some dire client reviews ( 2 out of a resounding global 3, how odd!) on Google:

'Rank amateur's' [sic!] (...) What sort of magazine publisher doesn't have a manned office? (...) They'll go broke very quickly like that.' '(...)pretty shabby treatment of a customer.'

😱😱😱

But let's assume I am twisting again the plot (I don't, I do not need to). Let's assume I am evil like that and I give credence to two very negative (but brutally clear, too) user reviews only. Perhaps I am wrong, you might say. So, let's also have a look at some company figures, shall we?

Nay contest, it's them.

[Source: https://rocketreach.co/mchugh-media-profile_b5d2097af42e3bbb]

Now, my lovelies, how can I put it without offending anyone? What we are looking at, here, is a small company with 5 (five) employees, few web hits (164.480 hits is ridiculous, when we are talking about press/media!), but a comfortable revenue (7 million AUD - about 4.5 million USD). May I remind you that a company's revenue is roughly its gross income, before subtracting operating costs, wages and taxes. But given they have only 5 employees, wage expenses & operating costs must be marginal and taxes are rather friendly in New Zealand, where their HQ is (to the point there was, three years ago, an ongoing debate in order to determine if the country was a tax haven: https://thespinoff.co.nz/business/06-10-2021/is-nz-a-tax-haven-for-the-rich-and-dodgy-the-pandora-papers-reignite-the-debate), you do the maths. Therefore, how can this rather substantial profit be explained, otherwise than by a very friendly editorial policy towards paid and/or sponsored content and product placement galore (Lifestyle, anyone)?

Its immediate competitor is a supermarket chain in-house bulletin/leaflet, Campbell's Cash & Carry. The kind of thing that always lands somehow in your shopping bag and then directly in the kitchen trash:

This is enough to show their real reach and place on the market, I believe.

All this for what, Madam Knife? All this to say that paper is probably paid by the talent's PR/***. I will not go into useless detail, because there is very few new-ish/relevant information (e.g.: 'With a long season seven concluding in January, the Outlander epic will close out within the next 18 months, taking the episode total to 101. '). But I will, gleefully even, point out two tiny details, all of you patiently read this long rant for, in fact.

As always, McGill doesn't even deserve a quote, only reported speech that is, in fact, snowballing prior reference (this is exactly where copy/paste comes in very handy, you see). And a clumsy one at that, sugar on top - hence the copy/paste certainty and this is so, so rude, I could cry (nope...):

But... but... such a nice, thoughtful touch for her Stans, who spent DAYS in a row proving he was not a music producer, but the Night Media Manager (and I have to say, delivered actual quotes - still No Face, No Name, No Number, though):

[Tait rhymes with hate, alright - I know, darlings, it pisses you off to no tomorrow 😉.]

Copy paste/Goes to waste. Finally, I had to snort (not a pretty, nor feminine sight) when I realized Mindfood takes its readers for complete, amnesic idiots:

So she became 'a mother in August of 2021', but she did film 'the sixth season of the drama while pregnant'. Granted, this paper is written for casual OL viewers, the kind of people who did find C interesting/beautiful/clever/extraordinary, but who don't remember her name when prompted on candid camera, for example. The kind of superficial audience who will never do the maths and never question the fact a pregnant actress was filming beautiful (but steamy) scenes with her... ahem... with her co-star she is now 'consciously uncoupling' from.

ROFLMAO.

Not even sorry for the length, Anon. There you go, let's say good bye with a merry little song - I am told I have the best tunes on Tumblr (SMH). Really, Mindfood's client could have curated and tailored better the Retconning Operation - but perhaps even PR has trouble taking that man and his narrative role seriously?

[hrst4yves]

One of the girls

“I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

Caitlyn Kirammen X female reader

Disclaimer- smut, cussing, smoking, and drinking some mentions of season 2 act 2 spoilers, and mentioning of prostitution

Extras- inspired by the song ‘One of the girls’ by The Weekend, Lily-Rose Depp and JENNIE

Enjoy :)

The city of Piltover has seen numerous attacks due to someone from the under city. Only the higher ups of the city truly know what is going on leaving the city in complete silence. But you still have to get up everyday at exactly 7 pm to start your day at the club. You obviously didn’t imagine this life for yourself while you were in school but due to the death of your father who kept the family unit afloat your education was forcibly put on hold.

He died young, only at the age of 48. Your mother completely disappeared after his death. Her ghostly figure hovering around the house. Her steps heaving and her head held low. Your father always told you that if something happens to him. You had to be responsible for the family. So now you work late into the night to sustain the life your family once had. You can tell your mom is truly thankful for your sacrifice but doesn’t show it much. She is far more embarrassed by the life you had to chose because she couldn’t get her shit together.

You get out of bed and look at your hands. Trying to see if the fight you were in yesterday is visible. Seeing that it is not you stand and start to get ready for your shift. Picking out an outfit that will hopefully get you enough money to put in the monthly payment for your younger brother’s tuition. Already running late you take some things you need to keep getting ready at work. You walk out of your room and the house is quiet and dark. A pot of stew on the stove waiting to be eaten.

You give your home one last look before leaving and locking the door behind you. The walk to the club is sketchy. Of course it is, this form of work in Piltover is illegal. But for girls like you this is your only option. You walk quietly through the city. Seeing flowers in memory of the council memories that passed away due to the attack. You observe young men slumped over clearly intoxicated crying out for someone.

After many flights of stairs you finally make it to your job. Hearing the music from outside of the building always gets you prepared for what you are about to expiernce. You knock three times rhythmically on the door letting the security know it’s one of the dancers. A tall broad man opens the door for you and gives you a quick glance. “Good afternoon Y/N, loads of people here tonight.” The man says while keeping his eyes straight avoiding eye contact.

You push your way through to get in and chuckle at his statement. “That’s every night.” You sassily reply to him. He shakes his head in disagreement and bends down closer to you. You feel his slow breathing on your neck and twitch slightly. “No, it’s different tonight.” He says ominously. You playfully push him off of you and walk away. ‘Can’t be that different, right?!’

The club is dimly lit and flashes of color appear every so often. You hear all sorts of songs tonight and men whistling at the women dancing sensually on stage. You walk to the back and open the door to the dancer only section where girls are getting ready. “Hey Y/N.” Farrah says while snorting some substance up her nose. Farrah actually introduced you to the club life without her.. you don’t even want to think about it. You smile at her and walk over in a skippy manner. “How is the money tonight?” You ask while giving her a friendly kiss on her head.

She slightly blushes and waves you off. “It’s great. Like really great. Probably best all year in my opinion!” She says excitedly. You walk over to the changing rooms and start changing. Everyday is a theme and tonight it’s ’Under the sea’ kinda stupid in your opinion but whatever. Your outfit is light blue and barely covers anything. You slip on your high heels and start to pick out your songs for tonight. “Y/N! You are on stage right now.” Your boss says while quickly scanning her eyes over her clipboard. “Okay.”

Going on stage is always nerve racking but once you are up there all of the nerves go away. Your music starts playing and you start dancing sultry and smooth. Desperate men throw their money at you that they promised to save. Your body touches the cold pole and sparks your excitement even more. While dancing you see a figure in the back with piercing blue eyes. You stare directly at them. Watching them like your life depends on it.

You try to focus on your dance while still trying to make out who the figure is. ‘Maybe it’s a regular? What no way I would’ve recognized those eyes. Hmm their hair seems kinda long, maybe it’s a woman?’

You hear men whooping and hollering over your and seeing men slouched over at the bar with an empty drink besides them. It’s usually never women in these kinds of places. With this conclusion you start to feel more into the music than ever. Squatting slowly down the pole and pressing your pelvic era near it slowly. You start to slowly walk around the pole and rolling your body. You keep eye contact with those blue eyes. You guide your hands down your body and bring it back up to suck on your fingers.

This movement always makes the men in here holler for whatever reasons. The figure starts to smirk slowly which gives you all kinds of excitement. Your song ends and the men start to stand up and clap and throw money at you. You wink at them and start picking it up slowly while mouthing ‘thank you’. You step off stage money in hand and go to the dancer section only to get ready for private rooms. “Great job Y/N! You already have a customer wanting a private room with you.” your boss says while taking an inhale from her cigarette. “Okay, let me get ready then.” You tell her while putting your money in a bag saving it to count for later. You retouch your makeup, and fix your hair a bit before walking out to the private rooms.

“Hey Y/N.” A man says while putting down his glass. It’s Harlow he’s always in here. His shaggy hair covers his deep eye bags and his forehead wrinkles. “Hey, sorry can’t talk right now private room!” you say quickly trying to avoid a conversation. He’s a nice man but he’s very pushy and if you don’t stop him. He will take up your whole shift talking about himself. “Of course baby. After him it’s my turn.” He says while attempting to wink at you but actually just closes both of his eyes. You give him a wave and keep walking.

‘Him, huh? Damn I wanted it to be ocean eyes.’ You think to yourself before opening the deep red curtain to the private room. “Hello..?” You say while entering. Before even being able to finish your sentence you see the person that was smirking at you while dancing. You were right it was a women. Infront of you is a women with her legs spread and slumped down in her chair. Her features are intriguing her teal-blue piercing eyes that shine in the dim lit room. Her long blue hair that she keeps pushing out of her face. She must be nervous. Something about her looks so familiar. “You don’t look like you are supposed to be here.” You say while closing the curtain behind you. You feel her eyes stare at your figure and you suddenly became nervous.

“What does that mean?” She scoffs at your comment. Her voice catches you off guard for a moment. “Love your accent.” You say while walking towards her. She rolls her eyes and looks at you up and down. Inspecting every part of you. “You are fucking gorgeous by the way. Wouldn’t think a face like yours would end up here.” She says to you while stretching her hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment than take it. Her long slender hands are cool to the touch. ‘Wonder what this would feel like up my.. fuck.’

You smile at her. No one has ever called hour gorgeous before. Mostly because people can’t even spell it where. “I didn’t think so either but here we are.” You giggle for a second before straddling her. You really aren’t supposed to get this close to the clients but damn this girl is different. “I don’t even really know what we are supposed to do in here. But I like this a lot already.” The ocean eyed lady says while slowly gliding her hands up and down your body. Some of you is bare due to your outfit so it tingles in a good way.

You give her a quick smirk. You start to move your hip closer to her. Grinding back and forth. She pulls you closer to her and squeezes your ass. “Can I kiss you?” She asks shyly as if you aren’t basically riding her. “Of course.” She grabs your face tightly but also comforting and pulls you into a kiss. Her mouth opening to let your inside. Everything about her is so addicting. The way her tongue slowly enters your mouth.

You slowly moan into her and she takes that as a sign to take off your top. Which is totally against the rules but fuck it. She exposes your breast to the cold air. “So beautiful.” She says before leaning into your chest. She opens her mouth and sucks on your nipples needly. “Fuck..” you mumble while resting your head on your shoulder. You have never been this intimate with someone before and this experience is out of body. She smiles into your chest hearing the sounds that you are producing just from her mouth. She grips your other breast with her free hand squeezing them.

“Damn they are soft.” This comment makes you a bit embarrassed. You start sucking on her neck and run your fingers through her hair. “Hah..” is the only sound you can make just from her sucking on you. She opens her mouth exposing your breast to the cold air and lifts your body up to take off your skirt. “Can I?” She says before sliding her index and ring finger into you. The noises your body makes is fascinating.

You start to moan into her neck. “Come on baby ride my fingers.” She whispers into your ear sending shivers down your spine. You start to adjust your self into her fingers and start to move your hips. “Fuck your tight.” She whispers while pushing more into you. You try to maintain a steady rhythm with your hips like you are on stage but this is just so different. Her long slender fingers fit so well inside you. She starts to move her fingers in and out of you.

“Ha.. I can’t.” you softly grunt. “Are you about to cum?” You nod and she smirks at you. “Come on baby.” She begs while looking at you. Your body squirms with every slightly movement she makes. “Mmhmm..” is all you can muster out before climaxing. “Good job baby.” She praises you as if she didn’t do all the work. She slowly lifts you up and takes her fingers out slowly. The slimy residue that is left on her fingers is a creamy white color. She stretches apart the two fingers that were just in you and a string of the substance is shown.

She looks at you and starts to put her fingers in her mouth sucking in her cum filled fingers. You can’t even look at her embarrassed from what just happened. She takes her fingers out of her mouth and tilts your head towards her with her thumb and smiles at you. “Beautiful.”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 !!

HIIII I hoped you liked it!! Bro I’m so terrified to finish arcane that I distracted myself and wrote this instead!! I’m so tempted to write caitvi fic bc I’ve already seen all the videos their little scene it was so hot. Well anyways bye :) until next time!!

Speaking of next time what would yall prefer- Caitvi, Viktor x reader or boxer Vi x reader ? Please tell me <3

[lanalaynetalks]

Tenrou Island is one of my favorite arcs! I love this arc so much. I think this is possibly a controversial take. I don’t know. My favorite thing about shows is learning more about systems in the world. I think it’s just so interesting to see how wizards become s-class. This is going to be long. I am so sorry I love this arc so much. It’s a lot of Cana… I ADORE CANA. Plus a lot of Levy and Gajeel! I just think this arc features so many fan favorite characters so well. This is also before The Thunder Legon was nerfed so they have some cool moments. Just I love this arc so much!

1. I do think it’s crazy that they really just throw us into the arc with no filler episodes/arc between. I think this is one of the only arcs that doesn’t have filler episodes before or a filler arc.

2. Fairy Tail having a sacred place implies that other guilds do as well.

3. Something I find weird about S-Class wizards is why does the title follow you from one guild to another. Juvia and Gajeel were S-Class in Phantom Lord, but not Fairy Tail.

4. Silly thing time! Hiro Mashima trying to put all the main characters and main side characters on the island.

5. Lisanna and Juvia. I wish we kept seeing them as friends.

6. Evergreen and Elfman are one of my favorite ships and should be a main ship. It should be the big 5 instead of big 4. They were more together by the end than any of the other ships! I LOVE THEM!

7. Oh Mest… I miss your silly personality. Also how did he go from ok looking, to hot, to Nastu wannabe. I will be mourning when we see hot Mest for the last time.

8. Why did Makarov keep picking Cana? It seems a little cruel.

9. First Mavis mentioned. Mavis is one of my favorite characters of all time. I love her so much. Fairy Tail Zero is so good and made me love her more.

10. While pacing was my biggest issue for the last two arcs I feel like this is when the show found its pace. Without this arc the grand magic games would have not been as good as it was. I said what I said!

11. If I walked into the route and saw it was Mira I would have just walked away. Mirajane scares me the most out of all characters in the show.

12. I’m going to say it! I ship Lily and Carla! I said what I said!

13. I never got why Hades was so obsessed with Zeref. Because Zeref literally taught him how to use magic. I also wish we got more info on why he turned evil. It’s hard for to believe e he would attack Fairy Tail because he was a founder and was like best friends with Mavis. Him being Precht makes no sense because we never get a full explanation on how he turned evil other than he basically accidentally went down the alt right pipeline

14. I will never get over the Iron with a heart in the O. When I saw it for the first time I screamed and I still scream and fangirl over it!

15. Makarov talking Gajeel into joining Fairy Tail will forever be one of my favorite Gajeel scenes.

16. This arc is really when we start seeing Wendy come into her character and she becomes less of just the little kid to a true character.

17. It’s heavily implied you can’t say no to being Fairy Tail’s guild master. We see Makarov be like lol no and Precht being like lol too bad. Then we see Guildarts being like lol no and Makarov being like lol too bad! Then we see Guildarts being like lol as master you are now master again! Like can they really not say no?

18. I wish we could see Makarov in his prime. I know there has been discussion about how the series is going to continue. I don’t want next generation Fairy Tail I want to see old generation Fairy Tail. I want to see Makarov and his old team beating people up. I want to see Precht as guild master. Or even early days of Makarov being guild master! I would even be ok if it was like Fairy Tail Zero where it was a one arc story.

19. I do have a theory that Precht made Fairy Law. I don’t think it’s stated ever that Mavis made all the grand fairy spells but I maybe wrong. So that’s how he was able to make Grimoire Law.

20. Another theory I have is that Precht took care of Makarov after Yuri’s death.

21. Now this is an out there theory. I know it. I believe that Yuri called Laxus back to the island. HEAR ME OUT! We know that some things just happen in Fairy Tail especially with the living and the dead. Yuri promised to always protect Mavis also his son was in danger. His legacy (Fairy Tail) was in danger. I also think that it could have been Mavis, but I think it’s more poetic coming from Yuri.

22. Makarov saying it’s up to his successor and us being shown Laxus… I am going to call it right now. The end of 100 year quest we will be seeing Laxus becoming master. This would be a perfect way to end his character. This is not the post to get into it, but ya that’s my prediction.

23. God Slayers… oh the magic that was sort of forgotten about. How sad.

24. I will die on this hill. Laxus should have been the Lightning God Slayer. This would had been able to connect him, Ivan and Hades together in a perfect way.

25. This arc also has some of my favorite speeches.

26. One thing about me is I am absolutely sat every time Mirajane transforms.

27. Elfgreen is such an underrated ship.

28. I love Evergreen so much.

29. Capricorn is cool! I really like him even if he isn’t used enough. I love him! Probably second favorite spirit. First is Aquarius because I am an Aquarius and she is just awesome.

30. Favorite Juvia moment is when Meredy said she was wanting to kill Gray.

31. Also wow the show that has shown over and over again to become more powerful is to channel your emotions is showing how emotions makes people more powerful. I really don’t get why people give Fairy Tail so much hate using the power of friendship. It’s almost like we are shown over and over again that is literally how it works. More emotion = more power. It also makes me more mad now knowing the show was created because Hiro Mashima was lonely.

32. One of my favorite things to come out of this arc is Juvia and Meredy’s friendship.

33. Honestly Juvia vs Meredy is my favorite Juvia fight.

34. Cana my love. We both have daddy issues. She just like me for real!

35. Me realizing I’ve misspelled Gildarts name this whole time… oops

36. Seeing Cana’s mom’s will and seeing Cana’s cards being around it. I think her mom also used card magic.

37. Can we talk about how Cana was defeated by Laxus in her first S-Class trial. We don’t talk about this enough!

38. I truely believe that any minor inconvenience Cana threatens to use Fairy Glitter.

39. Fairy Tail having grand spells implies that other guild have grand spells

40. Rip thunder legion…. They aren’t dead they just get hella nerfed after this arc. Well more than they already were after the battle of fairy tail.

41. One thing about Gray is going to try to cast ice shell.

42. I love Ultear so much. She is one of my favorite villains.

43. Lily being scared of thunder and lightning. Adorable. I love him.

44. I do think Hades being a founder was added later on because when he revealed he was the second guild master he didn’t mention being a founder and I think that’s something that would have been mentioned.

45. LAXUS IS BACK BABY! ONE THING ABOUT LAXUS HE KNOWS HOW TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE!

46. We are so spoiled in this arc. We got so much of side characters showing their skills.

47. So Nastu just got the flame lighting power. Honestly don’t understand how it worked! But I don’t care because it’s cool! Wanna know what’s not cool? The fact that Wendy is the only 1st generation dragon slayer to not get an extra dragon slayer element. I hope by the end of 100 year quest she gets something. I want cobra to give her poison. Because that would be badass.

48. The exceed side mission is so adorable and goofy. I LOVE IT.

49. To think of Hades just kept his Fairy Tail emblem he would have been able to win the final fight because the tree was restore

50. People say it’s a plot hole that Ultear was able to restore the tree because she said she can’t use her magic on living things, but I think it was just bad phrasing and really it’s like humans and animals she can’t us her magic on.

51. The Laxus ship that makes the most sense to me is that him and the thunder legion are just a poly relationship. Yes Elfman is apart of this.

52. Another reason why I don’t think Hades was always supposed to be a founder of Fairy Tail is because how did he not recognize Zeref as the man who taught him magic?

53. I love Gildarts and Cana so much! I know if Cana told him from the start he would have stopped going on his long jobs to take care of her. He is such a girl dad.

54. Everyone begging Makarov to let them stay and fight is another moment that makes me cry every time. Honestly the whole episode does.

55. Most iconic scene in Fairy Tail is them holding hands and no one can change my mind.

56. Mavis protecting her guild. Her babies! I love her. The foreshadowing of fairy sphere being more powerful than Acnologia.

Tenrou Island is one of the best arcs. It is also a soft reboot of the show. I can’t wait for the grand magic games. I don’t know if I’ll watch the clock arc. I haven’t watched it in years. It is always a skip for me because I want to get to the grand magic games. I know I missed a lot during this arc and forgot to write things down. I watch the show while working on my school work. I love talking about Fairy Tail so don’t be shy send me things! Thank you for reading me fan girling over my favorite piece of media! The grand magic games post will likely be multiple parts because I think it’s peak Fairy Tail.

[bamber344]

Consequences

prev

masterlist

:) sorry not sorry

anyway i said this would be a steve chapter but it turned into an andreas-steve-jordyn type of chapter because i just really like flipping the perspective all the time to be honest, it's like an addiction

enjoy the chapter tho!!!

CWs: living weapon whump, no-holds-barred beatdowns, broken bones, other grievous injuries associated with aforementioned beatdowns, manipulation, panic attacks, hospitals

Consequences

Andreas stepped out of the elevator into the surveillance room hoping to find someone to mark down G-7’s training results for the day, but was displeased to find it entirely unmanned. What was even worse was the fact that the elevator camera seemed to be switched off. Someone around here was getting a warning, that was for sure.

The door to the subject development room opened and Cheryl stepped out. She smiled at him once she noticed his presence.

“Oh, Andreas! Good to see you!” she greeted.

“Who was on shift to man the surveillance desk?” he asked, putting a stern lilt into his voice.

Cheryl glanced at the chair and seemed to only just now notice that it was empty. “Oh. Arthur said he would look after things. Where did he go?”

Andreas frowned. “Who the hell is Arthur?”

Cheryl blinked at him. “Uh, the new guy…? I ran into him on the elevator down here.”

Cold dread settled into Andreas’ gut. He powered towards the surveillance desk, sitting down and waking up the computer. “What did he look like?”

“Um, white, mid to late forties, brown hair sort of medium length, I guess? Kinda shaggy, in any case. He had a bit of stubble and a moustache, and some freckles on his nose. Why, what’s wrong?”

“I haven’t hired anyone new in almost a year. He was a spy.”

Andreas navigated to the saved surveillance footage as Cheryl freaked out behind him, finding exactly what he feared: everything from the last hour or so had been deleted. The little snake wasn’t totally incompetent, at any rate. It was just unfortunate for him that Andreas already had a good clue as to his identity.

Steven Matthews would regret ever showing his face in Andreas’ precinct.

—

Andreas entered G-7’s quarters without knocking and came across the exact scene he’d been expecting, based on what he’d seen through the cameras. The girl was sprawled out over her bed, half-dressed and completely knocked out. It wasn’t surprising that she was especially fatigued, considering all of the extra training and patrolling she’d been doing to make up for her failure with G-5, and since she’d been forbidden from having dinner tonight, he didn’t doubt that she found sleep a much more enticing option than staying up and enduring her hunger. She looked almost peaceful, in a dishevelled, snoring, drooling-on-the-pillow sort of way, and a small part of Andreas almost felt bad about having to wake her up. Almost.

He kicked the leg of the bed frame, rattling the whole thing. “Wake up, Seven!”

G-7 jerked awake with a yelp, scrambling to her feet and standing at the ready. “Y-yes, sir!”

“Put your armour on. I have a job for you.”

—

Steve rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to work his anxiety out on the elevator ride up to his apartment. He was almost certain no one had been following him back; by all accounts, he should be safe. Still, he just couldn’t get the nagging feeling of oncoming dread out of the pit of his gut.

He sighed and tried to ignore it. The fact of the matter was that there was nothing he could do either way. Whether he was about to release the information he found and save Jordyn from Andreas’ clutches, or wake up in an unmarked grave and slowly asphyxiate tomorrow morning, it was now out of his hands.

Steve exited the elevator and trudged down the hall, fishing his keys out of his pocket. His hand touched the USB as he did so, and he pulled it out along with the keyring. Inside that tiny piece of plastic and circuitry was enough evidence to launch an official investigation on de Vygon and all of his cronies, and rip all of this evil out at the root. Or maybe that was just him being optimistic. Still, it was certainly a good start.

He unlocked his door and stepped into the dark apartment, flicking on the lightswitch.

Nothing happened.

Steve frowned, flipping the switch on and off over and over. Nothing was changing. The lights in the outside hallway were still on, so it wasn’t like there was a blackout. Had the power been cut to his apartment in particular?

The door slammed shut behind him and he whirled around, only to find no one there. His heart leapt into his throat.

Oh. This was how it was going to go, huh? At least he got to enjoy one last drive before it was all over.

Darkness swept over his vision, completely blinding him right as something sunk into his solar plexus hard enough to lift his feet off the floor. Air rushed out of his chest so fast he almost puked. His knees buckled when he hit the ground again, and his attacker was quick to help him down, striking him across the cheekbone and sending him collapsing into a heap.

They didn’t let up, kicking and stomping on him over and over, refusing to stop even when he got his breath back enough to start crying out in pain. Ribs cracked and splintered. His nose was crushed, his lip split. He tried to predict where the boot would come next and protect himself, and only got snapped fingers for the trouble. A particularly bad hit to the head knocked out his hearing, leaving only ringing in its place. 

The attacker changed target, focusing on his legs. By that point, the hits were starting to blur together, only coming into sharp focus when something broke. His left knee was the first to go, followed by whatever his calf bone was called. He was certain that he knew, but the name just wasn’t coming to him. The femur? No, that was the thigh bone. The humerus was an arm bone, that definitely wasn’t it. It started with an F, he was sure. Vivienne would definitely be able to tell him, if she were there. She was smart like that.

Speaking of his femur, that broke too, and Steve screamed so hard he thought he would choke. It would have been a mercy.

Finally, the beating stopped. The ringing quieted down enough for him to hear his surroundings again, and he could just about make out the sound of distressed panting, almost to the point of sobs. Was that him? No, his breaths were coming in raspy and slow. 

“I’m… s-so sorry,” said a broken, electronic voice.

Huh. That was weird. Steve passed out.

—

Steve Matthews’ twitching, rasping body laid at my feet. His chest continued to rise and fall, and an occasional spasm rocked through his limbs. He wasn’t dead just yet. Thank god.

I still didn’t understand why I had to just… do that. Steve was one of the good guys, right? He was a police officer, working to catch criminals, and yet… Father wanted him ‘dealt with,’ as he put it. He wanted him beaten within an inch of his life. He wanted his legs broken so bad he would never walk straight again. I couldn’t bring myself to go all the way on that one. The screaming from one leg was bad enough. God, I wanted to throw up. But my job wasn’t done.

I clenched my fists, trying to get my breathing under control. I still needed to search him and seize any of the things he had on him when he arrived back. Just… get it done. If I did a good job, maybe Father would feel inclined to reward me, or at the very least, cut back on my extra training and patrol hours. What I wouldn’t do to be allowed another few hours of rest a day. My ribs still ached with every breath, and all I wanted was for it to just stop.

As carefully as possible, I patted him down, removing his phone, wallet, and keys from his person. In his hand was a small plastic… something. I grabbed that, too, just to be safe. Time to make my exit.

Limbs shaking, breath still coming in quick gasps, I made my way towards the window and slipped out the same way I entered, making sure I closed it behind me. Sirens echoed through the distance, no doubt on their way to my location. Steve’s neighbours surely must have heard all the screaming. I just hoped they got to him in time to save him.

Somehow, it only occurred to me then, in the cool light of the moon on the long run back to the facility, exactly what I’d just done. I just tortured an innocent man. I attacked him in his own home, overpowering him and beating him until he was begging me to stop, and even then I continued. That… that sounded like something a criminal would do. Hell, I’d taken down criminals for similar crimes before. How could Father order me to do something like that?

He was Vivienne’s uncle. How was I supposed to face her again after what I’d just done? She was one of the only people who’d ever made me feel safe in her presence, and I just broke her uncle. Why did he make me do it?

I tripped over my own feet right at the edge of a rooftop, tumbling into the alley below and hitting the rail of every fire escape on my way down, crashing into a pile of garbage bags. The fall barely even registered through the ringing in my ears and the pain in my chest. I felt like I could barely breathe, every gasp for air choked off and denied by the stifling prison of my helmet. I clawed at it, finally tripping the latch at the back of my head and tearing it off. Humid night air hit me like a train, and for a second it felt like I could breathe again, but the ache didn’t cease, and the world continued to spin wildly around me. All I could do was lay there, staring up at the sky and contemplating what I’d just done while trying to remember how to push oxygen in and out of my body.

I supposed this was just another one of those things I was too stupid to understand. I wasn’t smart like Father and the scientists. I barely knew how to shovel food into my face without making a mess, let alone comprehend the complexities of crime. If Father ordered me to do it, Steve must have done something truly horrible. He must have. That was the only explanation. I just… needed to stop thinking about it. I would never truly understand it anyway.

Don’t stop asking questions. Don’t take anything at face value. Andreas is gonna try every trick in the book to make you feel like you’re too stupid to understand anything, so why even bother wondering? Don’t let him. You’re smart, Jordyn.

Maggie’s words echoed through my head. Back when I heard them, part of me was tempted to disregard them; just because she was my sister didn’t mean that she really knew me. She didn’t know how stupid I really was. Now, though… I just couldn’t let my actions sit on my conscience. I refused to accept the answer of ‘Father knows best.’ I needed an explanation for what I just did.

But… How the hell was I supposed to get one? Father would break me just as bad as I just broke Steve if I kept talking back like the idiot I am. Was I just supposed to ignore it and pretend everything was okay? How was I supposed to keep going on like this?

It just… felt so hopeless.

There was a bit of time before Father was expecting me back. Not long enough to let everything out, but it would have to do.

I squeezed my eyes shut and started to cry.

—

The walk back to the facility felt like it took ages, and yet at the same time, it was over in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it I was slipping through those doors, scanning my palm against the card reader, and heading down the elevator back home. I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to see Father and demand some answers, or never look at him again. Either way, I had to go report to him, so what I wanted didn’t really matter.

I dragged my feet all the way down the halls, finding out from a scientist that Father was waiting for me in my quarters. At least I didn’t have to make any detours before I could strip this armour off and go into a coma for however long I would be allowed to sleep. Better to just get it over with.

Sure enough, when I opened the door and stepped inside, Father was sitting on my bed, looking at me.

“How did it go?” he asked, like he didn’t already know. Like he hadn’t been watching through the camera of my visor the whole time.

“I…” I tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. Just the thought of the pain I’d caused formed a lump in my throat, and nothing could get past it.

Despite not receiving an answer, Father nodded. “Take off your armour, Jordyn.”

I didn’t need more encouragement than that. Piece by piece, I stripped off the black metal and dropped it on the floor like I was shedding the weight of my crimes. Somehow, things started to feel just a little bit better.

“Come here,” Father beckoned once it was all off. I slowly made my way over and sat down on the bed next to him.

“I saw what you did, Jordyn.”

“You were watching?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m always watching while you work. You did good. You did what I told you.”

I sniffed and nodded, not replying.

“It was hard, wasn’t it? Hurting him like that?”

Despite how hard I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t stop my face from scrunching up. The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Why? Why did I have to do that?”

I tensed up, expecting to be struck. Instead, Father gently put his hand on my knee. I remained frozen, just in case.

“I know it’s difficult for you to understand, Jordyn. I’m not sure I can explain it in a way you will understand. Just know that Mr. Matthews did a very, very bad thing, and he needed to pay the price for it. You don’t need to worry about it beyond that, okay? You leave that to your betters, and just do what you’re told. You’re very good at it.”

The compliment sent shivers of pleasure down my spine, as did the gentle touch of Father’s hand as it moved around my shoulders instead. I did a good job for him. That was the important part, right?

“It didn’t feel good,” I muttered, a few errant tears escaping and falling down my face.

“I know, Jordyn. I know. You’re a gentle soul, aren’t you? But you did a good job, and now you won’t need to worry about it again. Tell you what, we’ll forget about your mistakes in training today, alright? I’ll have some fresh dinner made and brought to you shortly.”

The thought lit off a spark of excitement in my belly, though it was dampened a bit by confusion. “Wh… Why are you being so nice to me?”

Father tilted his head. “You’re my daughter, Jordyn. I know I’m hard on you sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. And when you do good for me, I want to reward you.” His smile remained, but his eyes turned a little colder. “Just don’t expect this treatment all the time. You performed a very difficult and important job today, and I recognise that. That’s all. Now, what do you say?”

I nodded. “R-right. Thank you, Father.”

He gently ruffled what little hair I had and stood up. “There’s a good girl. Have a good night, Jordyn.”

With that, he left me alone in my quarters. He was… actually happy with me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him so proud and receptive of my work. A giddiness I hadn’t felt for months rose up within me, struggling against the overpowering guilt of what I’d done to earn it. I did the right thing, but… it just didn’t feel right. Father wanted me to just forget about it, but was that really possible? Maggie would have wanted me to keep questioning, keep digging and searching until I found out the truth as to why he made me do that.

Both options sounded equally as exhausting. All I really wanted was to sleep.

My stomach growled loudly. …And maybe a good meal, too.

I went about my nightly routine, showering off the sweat and tears and getting changed into some sleep clothes. All that was left was to wait.

Sure enough, Father hadn’t been lying. About half an hour after he left, a piping hot bowl of chilli and rice was delivered right to my door. My favourite meal; he must really have been happy with me.

And yet, when I brought it inside and forced it down at my desk, I could barely even taste it. There was only nausea and the sound of screams.

—-

“Could you tell me your name?”

“St- Steven… Matthews.”

The nurse nodded, writing something down on her pad. “How old are you, Steven?”

Steve frowned, trying to remember the exact number. His head had been a mess of fog ever since he woke up in this room. He had a vague memory of what happened to him to get him sent here, but everything in between was just black.

“47… I think.”

“What’s fourteen plus twenty six?”

The mental maths took a bit longer than it really should have, but Steve thought he could be excused for that, given the circumstances. “Fourty.”

“Alright,” the nurse said, putting her pad down. “Seems like you’re all there. I’ll go get the doctor, and we can go over your prognosis. If you’re in any pain, you can press this button here to get a dose of morphine. Don’t worry about overdoing it; the machine has an inbuilt limiter. Try to stay awake, if you can.”

With that, the nurse left him alone with the beeping of his heart monitor. Hearing it was a little bit of a shock, to be honest. He’d been almost certain that last night would be his… well, his last night on earth. Was it just an accident that he was still alive? Or did de Vygon only intend for him to suffer, and not actually kill him?

Well, if that was his goal, he succeeded. More of Steve was broken than wasn’t; wrapped up in casts, stabilised with metal fastenings, poked full of intravenous drips and covered in monitoring equipment. He was just doing his best not to look at all of the metal braces sticking out of his leg, lest he throw up again like he did when he first woke.

Eventually, the doctor came in and gave him the rundown: in short, he was well and truly worked over. He had a nasty concussion, a punctured lung, three broken fingers, six cracked ribs, a leg so unimaginably shattered that it was likely he’d never walk on his own again, two missing teeth, a crooked nose, a broken collarbone, some lovely internal bleeding, and enough bruising to fill a semi-truck. He couldn’t even remember half of that stuff happening.

The pain wasn’t so bad now that he had morphine coursing through his system, but that was a small consolation in the face of… everything else.

“So… how long will I have to stay here?” he asked.

“It's hard to say at this time, but we're probably looking at a few weeks, at least,” the doctor replied. “The damage to your leg will take multiple surgeries to completely fix, and with injuries like yours, we want to be careful about letting you go too soon.”

Well, that wasn't too bad. It wasn't like he had a job to go back to, anyway.

The doctor finished up and left him to his drugged-up rest. Steve closed his eyes and tried to let the sleep find him. Of course, it was just his luck that Andreas de Vygon walked in at that very moment. The beeping of the heart monitor picked up speed.

“Ah, it’s good to see you’re awake, Steven.”

“Wh… Why are you here?”

He took a seat at Steve’s bedside. “Can’t a police captain visit his detective in his time of need? I heard about what happened. Such a shame that those burglars would pick your apartment, and that you happened to come home right at that time. Apparently, you’re very lucky to be alive.”

Steve tried to scowl, but it wasn’t very easy with how bruised and swollen his face was. “Yeah, I’m sure you know a lot about it.”

De Vygon chuckled. “Fine, if that’s how you want to be. I’ll do you the respect of speaking plainly, then. I know it was you who broke into the facility last night. I don’t have any concrete proof, but I am almost certain that it was you. Why?”

De Vygon could torture him; he wouldn’t say anything. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

De Vygon hummed. “I’m sure. Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter why. Whatever your plan was has been foiled, regardless. Really, Steven… What were you expecting? That you’d just get to walk away?”

Steve glanced at his leg. “I think I have a solid shot at it.”

De Vygon laughed – actually laughed at that. “Apparently morphine turns you into a comedian. Who knew?”

“Cut the bullshit, Andreas. Why did you come here?”

De Vygon’s face darkened, just for a second, before that business neutral mask slipped right back into place. “Two things, Steven. Number one: Don’t ever show your face at my precinct again, unless you want someone to come and finish what they started. Number two: make sure whoever it is that you’re working for understands the same thing. No one crosses me and gets away with it.”

He stood up, dusting himself off as if merely being in Steve’s presence was enough to dirty him. “I would wish you a speedy recovery, but… Well, that would just be counterintuitive, wouldn’t it?”

With that, he turned and strolled out the door, just as smug as ever.

Fuckin’ prick.

There was a commotion outside just a moment after he left, and Steve heard Vivienne’s voice loud and clear through the thin walls.

“Get out of my way, asshole.”

Steve shut his eyes and prayed that she didn’t do anything stupid. If de Vygon had the slightest inkling that she had even a pinky toe dipped in this mess, she would suffer the same fate that he did.

Thankfully, things calmed down, and a moment later, Vivienne was bursting through the doors, looking on the verge of tears.

“Uncle Steve!”

She rushed over to his bedside, barely holding herself back from pouncing on him with a hug. Steve’s ribs were very grateful for that restraint. 

“Hey, Vivienne.”

“What happened?! We- We were just… I thought-”

“Calm down, Viv. I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, look at you!”

Steve put his casted hand up, trying to placate her. “I will be, okay? Just breathe.”

Vivienne pouted but she did as she was told, sighing and sitting down. “What happened? The person on the phone said someone broke into your apartment.”

Welp, there was no getting out of it now. He told her the truth; that he went into the facility without her.

“B-but… why? I thought we would go in together!”

“Look at me, Vivienne. I knew something like this would happen. How could I have let you come with me, knowing that this was how it would end?”

“I…” Vivienne opened her mouth, but nothing more came out. Clearly, she understood, as much as she so obviously hated it. She let out a sigh. “Do you know who did this to you?”

“No,” he lied. “Just one of de Vygon’s operatives, I assume.”

She looked down, her face scrunching up. “You don’t think… Surely it wasn’t Jordyn, right? Even at his orders, there’s no way she’d do something like this…”

Apparently, she would. What else would explain the darkness that overtook his vision before the assault began, or the metallic voice desperately apologising right before he blacked out? But Vivienne didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know it but him. Telling Vivienne that Jordyn almost beat her uncle to death would only make things harder for what they were trying to do.

“I don’t think so,” he answered.

Vivienne hummed. “Did you at least get anything out of it? Any proof of what’s been going on?”

And there was the kicker. Thankfully, Steve had a little more foresight than de Vygon had bargained for.

“Do you know the library on Cliff street?” he asked.

Vivienne frowned. “Uh, yes?”

“I need you to go in there with a USB. On the computer at the very back, on the left-hand side, you’ll find a file hidden in the documents folder titled ‘PGSN.’ Move it to the USB and take it to the Union. They’ll have a better idea of what to do with it than me. Be careful, though. De Vygon has shown that he’s clearly not messing around.”

 “What’s on the file?” she asked.

“Research notes, by the looks of things,” he replied. “Documenting years worth of experiments Andreas has done on his test subjects, Jordyn included.”

“You mean there’s more?!”

Steve tried to shake his head, but immediately regretted it. The painkillers were making him forget just how busted up his body really was. “No, most of them are dead, aside from the two I saw escape. It seems like he’s trying to create a superhero for some reason. From the sounds of it, he’s literally growing these kids from birth in tubes.”

“Jesus…” Vivienne muttered. “I guess Maddie was right when she wondered if Jordyn was a genetically engineered test-tube baby.”

Steve stifled a yawn. “You should get going, Vivienne. Before de Vygon realises he’s been played. Also, no offence, but I really need to rest.”

Vivienne smiled, though there was pain in it. “Okay. I’ll be back once I’m done, though. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t you have class or something?”

“What better place to study nursing than in a hospital? I’ll still get my work done, you don’t have to worry.”

Steve grinned, his eyelids growing heavy. “That’s my girl. See you then.”

A quiet pop, and Vivienne was gone.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Steve closed his eyes and fell asleep.

taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idk-whumpalt

@Iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue @lettherebepain

@bacillusinfection

wahoo! yippee! whump!

also quite possibly some of the only guy whump in the whole story so far. They can have just a little. as a treat. :)

anyway, hope you enjoyed! let me know what you thought in a comment or reblog! it's v appreciated :3

up next is a MADDIE POV!!!!! my GIRL! my depressed QUEEN! and also the last chapter in this arc :) stay tuned!

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

i didnt write my essay for this 👍👍

im so festive with my red and green color combos n whatnot

[beesorcery]

hello it's part 3 of 3 for my cool fun graphic design adventure!! part 1 and part 2 got too long. to recap i am recreating this t-shirt design but with the magic 8 ball songs instead of city names:

here is the current draft, updated through 3/27 (pittsburgh) (!!!!)

[sleeve-sleeve]

ok first murder drones now spooky month depression