#steven: what if I spoiled YOU instead
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my star, id see it as fun to spoil you. even if you dont need much, if you ever do? just tell me and ill try and get it for you. that is if you will let me. if not? ignore this.
woe! cup of coffee be upon ye! it has the creamer steven likes in it!
[Hai moon! I offer up your son! His hair seems to be a mess. His eyes are puffy, and his cheeks are probably stained from crying so much! Also, this time? He's not in his usual suit attire. Sure, he still has slacks? But Sly seemingly has Joe's shirt on their shoulders! His voice is probably cracked. He is… A mess.]
"I just wanted to check in with you. Hha. If.. it’s a bad time I can come back later.-“
@ask-steven-stevenson
hi steven! you are currently in xis sisters house! xis sister isnt here at the moment, however, so its just you n moon. xe steps forward, attempting to reach out before hesitantly folding xis hands to xis chest. xe looks concerned.
hi! hello, kiddo! nonono, its never a bad time for you to visit! is something up?
#moon: idm spoiling you !!#steven: what if I spoiled YOU instead#<- moon wont stop him if it makes him happy but xe DOES want to be able to return the favor at least</3#once he gets coffee sly may open up to moon#if xe is okay with it ofc#<- woe. coffee be upon ye.....#and xe is!!!! very okay with it!!!!! :3#starflower duo#moon reblogs
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the ghost you dressed up as [5]
pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x R summary: "You've decided that, maybe, murder isn't as bad as you thought it was. Especially if your girlfriends say please." note: discussion of violence masterlist
“... and that's when Shauna stabbed her in the shoulder and sent her down a flight of stairs,“ Jackie says excitedly, trailing her fingers absently up your arm as she regales you in the story of Casey's murder. She's so excited to tell you the story that you try not to cringe hearing the brutal death of your friend. You keep having to remind yourself that this is your girlfriend and not some true crime documentary.
“We never saw Jackie coming; she always had a nice thing to say about everyone,” They’d say.
There's an almost childlike eagerness on her face as she sets the scene, eyes bright and animated, like she can't wait to share every gruesome detail with you. “She screamed the first few steps, but then she got sort of quiet. I mean, the thudding was pretty loud, but I think she hit her head or something.” Jackie frowns at the memory, looking put out. How dare Casey pass out and spoil her fun. “God, and when Shauna started going down the stairs after her? She started clawing at the tiles to pull herself away. It was kind of sad, really, but you know…”
Jackie looks over her shoulder at Shauna affectionately. “You should've seen how Shauna just stood there watching. She didn't even flinch, all calm and stuff, as she did her little head tilt. You know the one?”
Jackie mimics the movement sloppily, an almost awkward exaggeration of Shauna's terrifying glare. She smiles widely at you as she lets it fall, like she's waiting for you to laugh. You nod slowly, forcing a smile to your face.
“Yeah, I know the one,” You agree.
It's not that the conversation is completely unexpected. Dating them has come with a host of morbid conversations–offers of murder seem to be how they show affection–but this was about someone who used to be your friend. It wasn't some abstract victim you barely liked like Allie or someone who you hated like Steven. Listening to Jackie talk about her last moments of utter agony made you feel sick.
It hadn’t bothered you listening to how Allie or Steven died, or even Tatum. Jackie had described that one at length, going into every gorey detail like you hadn’t been there to see it yourself. You think you must know every word of that mocking phone call she’d had with Tatum before Tatum had finally dropped the phone in her fear. The shrill ring of the phone, the way her voice started so confident and turned broken and begging by the end, the way she’d cried at Jackie’s giggling taunts, how she broke down into sobs and begged for her life. You hadn’t minded listening, not really. It was sweet in a way, even if it sounds fucked up to admit, but there was always some sort of affection underlying everything they do.
The worst part is how unaware of it she seems, like it's just another cool adventure her and Shauna had without you. She'd even assured you a few days ago that they wouldn't leave you out of it the next time they “went out.” Like it was a date.
Shauna seems vaguely amused about the whole thing, peering over Jackie at you as she lays behind her. She’s been half-watching you and half-listening to Jackie all night. Drifting in between her clear desire to go to sleep and Jackie’s desire for her to stay up and talk with her. Instead, just settling on listening in with her eyes barely open. Something has finally caught her attention, though, as she pokes at your hip with the arm she's got wrapped around Jackie, looking at you expectantly.
“What?” You ask suddenly, squirming under their combined stare.
“I asked if you were okay. You're not like mad or anything, right?” Jackie asks, frowning slightly. Her enthusiasm begins to dim at your lack of reaction, leaning forward to search your face for any sort of clue as to how you’re feeling. Even now she doesn’t seem to believe you’ll actually answer in the affirmative, looking at you with a quiet expectation that you'll reassure her–tell her, of course not. There's a genuine curiosity to the question, but you know what's underlying it.
You can handle it, handle us, can't you?
“It's just a lot to process,” You lie, trying to make your voice sound steadier than you feel. “I had no idea that you were doing all this for me.”
Jackie's positively beaming at your words, eating that lie right up. She rests herself head against your shoulder, nuzzling her face into the side of your neck as she peppers your skin in brief kisses. Either unaware or uncaring of how tense you'd been previously, but still managing to turn you into mush as you relax back into the sheets. It’s hard to stay upset for long when she’s so damn affectionate all the time, erasing all of your worries before you even realize you have them. Some part of her, however deep, must be aware. But when it comes down to it, how much do you really care?
Shauna looks unconvinced, like she can see at least somewhat through you, but she just absentmindedly rubs circles on Jackie's skin with her thumb. She’s more than content to let Jackie live in her delusional, wholeheartedly supporting most of it, but she won’t ever let you forget that she sees more than you want her to. There’s always something so horribly knowing about her. Always watching, always waiting. Her eyes linger where Jackie presses up against you, a glint of approval in her eyes. She’s pleased with what she’s seeing–the way Jackie clings to you, the way you allow it.
Jackie’s still oblivious, lips grazing your skin like she’s marking you as hers. You, in the brief moments you’d allowed your mind to drift there before you forced yourself to stop, had always imagined Shauna as the more possessive of the two. It was true, to some extent. She was certainly more outwardly possessive, more likely to start a fight with someone just for standing a little too close to you, as she’d done so many times with Jackie. It was like she was always on edge, just waiting for an excuse to unleash all that rage she had inside her. But Jackie was a different breed altogether.
Her need for your attention was constant, suffocating even at times. If she wasn’t in your direct line of sight, she would endeavor to be there as quickly as she could manage, as if you’d forget about her in the twenty minutes you were taking a shower. Her eyes scanned for you constantly, like a nervous animal looking for predators. As if she wasn’t the thing that goes bump in the night. She wasn’t as outwardly aggressive, but she was no less intense for it. The hunger that was always present, how she always needed more from you–your time, your affection, your focus–was almost more dangerous.
“So you’ll come then, next time? Like you promised?” Jackie prompts lowly, her lips brushing against your skin with every word. Her fingers still trail lazy patterns up and down your arm, making it difficult to focus on anything that isn't her. Even as you turn your head to look, you find two pairs of eyes looking back at you: Jackie's hopeful eyes and Shauna's expectant gaze.
“It wouldn't be the same without you,” Shauna adds, her expression neutral as she gauges your reaction. She may try to look uninterested, try to put on some air of indifference, but you know her too well to know that she's not ever capable of that. Beneath that forced calm she's watching intensely, desperate for some sort of reaction.
You remember the way Shauna had looked at you covered in Tatums blood, smug and exhilarated but still so clearly nervous of your reaction. She expected you to react positively because she needed you to. It was as if she believed she could just will your approval into existence as long as she acted like she already had it.
Shauna always got so blank in those moments, shutting herself down like she could stop your reaction from hurting her if she just pretended she didn't care. But Shauna always cared, to a fault even. She was so sensitive, so easily hurt, when you got down to it. Always so ready to read in too far over a simple twitch of your face. If you frown, if you hesitate too long, it's like she's already decided for you how you feel about it.
Jackie was the opposite: while Shauna withdrew, Jackie only clung even tighter. It has made your life complete and utter hell any time you've witnessed them get into a serious disagreement, watching as Shauna retreated to lick at her wounds while Jackie hopelessly chased after her. Every step she took only drove Shauna–who was intent on drowning herself in her anger–further away. Jackie never knew when to let go, and the more she pushed, the more Shauna pulled away. Like the world's most irritating game of tug-of-war.
You can’t remember ever making that promise, not even hinting at it. Yet you find yourself agreeing anyway, nodding your head before you even realize what you're doing. How could you not? They made it so hard to disagree, so hard to deny them anything. You've accepted so much about them, been made complicit in their murder. At this point, you might as well just bite the bullet at join.
“I'll be there,” You promise weakly. It feels inevitable, like there was never another choice for you to make. Really, haven't you been set on this path from the moment they sat across from you in the cafeteria? Before that, even, if you count the time they'd spent planning to make you theirs from afar. They've made you this way, haven't they?
Someone who would say yes without thinking. Someone unable to leave even if you wanted to.
Jackie squeals excitedly, her hands clasping yours and squeezing hard as she presses more losses against your shoulder. Shauna doesn't react right away, but you can't see the way her shoulders carefully start to relax. A pleased upturn of her lips as she snuggles further into Jackie.
Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, as they always do, but you don't feel left out anymore. You're a part of it now, even if it took you a while to realize. No longer tiptoeing around their bond like you've spent so much of your time doing.
Not a spectator, but an integral part of it.
…
You’re the last one out of the classroom, which is probably the only reason it happened to begin with. Deep in thought about the murder you were now expected to join in with, you hadn’t noticed that the bell had rung to dismiss you from class. Your classmates certainly had, a fact you’re made aware of as the door slams behind the last straggler as he slips out the door. It startles you out of your thoughts, a quick glance around the room telling you what you’ve noticed embarrassingly late.
You stuff your things back into your bag, cursing under your breath and not even bothering to slip your papers into folders–Jackie will probably do it herself whenever she so helpfully goes through your bag for you. It definitely has nothing to do with her wanting to go through your stuff. How generous of her, really. You can already imagine the look she’ll give you: that half-fond and half-exasperated look she gives whenever she thinks you're being careless.
No, you’d much rather catch up with your girlfriends after class before Jackie calls the national guard.
The sound of your teacher calling out your name forces you to come to a stop with your hand hovering over the handle. You can just barely catch Shauna’s eyes as she leans against a locker across the hall, looking curiously back at you. It takes everything in you not to react, the interruption raising hell for your already frayed nerves. You pause, considering what would actually happen if you just opened the door and left anyway, before clenching your jaw and reluctantly turning around.
“Mrs. Loomis,” You acknowledge, trying not to let your irritation show. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you leave. Your hand flexes around the strap of your back, fiddling idly with the end.
Her smile is as strained as you feel, the kind you pull when you should be smiling, but you’re really just uncomfortable and trying not to let the other person know. The pursed lips and the lingering tension around her eyes as she forces a smile does more to project her mood than if she hadn’t bothered to smile at all.
“How are you doing?” She asks, trying to seem kind. Maybe it would’ve been, if not for how cautious it sounded. Careful, even, like she was talking to something about to bite her. You catch the way her eyes flick nervously up and down your figure, darting back to the door just as quickly. She seems just as eager as you are to leave, and it makes you wonder why she had bothered to stop you at all.
How are you doing? Like she has some kind of right to ask that of you? A bitter feeling wells up in your chest, as much as you try to push it down. She, of all people, should know. You haven’t forgotten the way she looked at you when the cops had first shown up to interview you–the way she’d turned you over to them without a shred of hesitation on her part. None of the concern she seems to possess in droves now. Mrs. Loomis hadn’t even had the decency to tell your classmates off for their whispering, pretending not to see whenever you’d given her a desperate look on a particularly brutal day.
All she ever offered you was silence. It wasn’t her problem, was it?
No, you’ve seen that look before. A concern that’s really just poorly veiled suspicion, when they’re too afraid to confront you about whatever they think they know about you. Far too cowardly to come out and ask you directly.
“I’m fine,” You say stiffly, almost cutting her off. It wouldn’t matter what she had to say to you anyway. You were passed the days of wanting her to help you.
“How are those girls you hang out with?” She asks, leaning back against her desk with a move that she clearly thinks looks casual. You can almost see the gears turning in her head as she picks her angle.
“Fine.” Your eyes drift unbidden back to the door, knowing the two of them must still be waiting for you in the hall. The thought fills you with an equal mix of comfort in dread, burdened by the weight of their secret–your secret, soon enough. Mrs. Loomis doesn’t miss the shift in your attention, suddenly standing up straighter as she refocuses.
“It's just…” She trails off, clasping her hands in front of her. It’s like she knows she’s going somewhere she shouldn’t, but she’s too curious–or worried–to stop herself. “How well do you think you know them?”
Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring hot in your chest. The question lands with all the subtlety of a punch in the face, immediately putting you on edge as you start to size her up. You hadn’t expected this line of questioning in the slightest, and you don’t at all appreciate the insinuation in her voice. How dare she sit here and point fingers at things she doesn’t understand when she’s spent so long turning her back on you.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
She doesn’t flinch, which surprises you, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Fear or surprise–you’re not sure, but you know you don’t like it. Whatever it is, she quickly tries to mask it with another fake smile, the same tight-lipped smile she gave you as your life fell apart.
“I just wonder if you’ve considered what sort of influence they’ve been having on you. You’ve been different since you started hanging off of them.” You don’t like the way she says that, not one bit. The almost condescending way she says it, hanging off of them, like you were some sort of leach. Like your presence was somehow unwanted. Or maybe she meant it a different way. Maybe she was just insinuating that it was a phase, that you were somehow falling into the wrong crowd.
Each word is chosen carefully, each designed to seem as unthreatening as possible, but the warning is clear in her voice. The insinuation cuts deep, sending a wave of panic through your body even as you try to remain unaffected.
What does she know? Or, rather, what does she think she knows? Half truths and suspicions can be deadly in the wrong hands. You of all people were aware of how deep they could cut if wielded correctly. Mrs. Loomis was playing with fire, but you don’t think she realized.
It takes a concentrated effort to keep the nerves out of your voice as you say, “They’re my friends.” It’s not quite as certain as you’d like it to be, but that could work in your favor if only you could play it correctly. Trying to dance around accusations wasn’t your strong suit, not by far. She doesn’t buy it, you can tell.
Maybe it’s because it’s not entirely true, not anymore. Mrs. Loomis has picked up on something in your voice, but you doubt that it’s the truth. She hears your hesitation on the word friends and draws the wrong conclusion from it. She thinks that you have reasons to doubt their affection, that you could doubt their loyalty over something as simple as her words. It isn’t doubt that makes you falter–it’s the memory of hands on your skin, of kisses, and so much more shared in the dark.
Jackie and Shauna–they’re so much more than your friends. They’ve pulled you into their mess, into their darkness, and you’ve let them. You’ve had so many times to dig your feet in, even if it wouldn’t have ultimately made a difference, but again and again you’ve let yourself be moved with the current. Maybe you’ve always wanted it. Needed it, even.
“Sometimes people we think are friends aren’t looking out for our best interests,” Mrs. Loomis says slowly, a pitying smile crossing her face. It makes you feel so small and insignificant. “You’ll learn that when you’re older.”
Falling in with the wrong crowd, then. What had she noticed? A small part of you wants to scream, to ask her why now. Why not when you needed someone, anyone, to believe you? It’s too late now–for you and for her.
You knew Shauna would want to do something about her, that this insult couldn’t go unanswered. Especially when she was already on the prowl for someone else. It was so pathetic that she had even dared to try, meddling in what she would never understand. Whatever she thinks she knows–whatever scraps of truth she’s managed to put together from idle gossip she upholds as truth–couldn’t be close to the reality of it.
“It’s awful, what’s been happening to you. I believe you’re innocent, but those girls are no good. You should see the way they look at you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think...” There’s a finality to her words, like she’s already decided the ending and has written it for you. Even now she doesn’t even bother to offer you help, offering a few half-hearted words of wisdom and expecting you to do all the work of fixing it. She’s judging you again. That’s all this is in the end.
Your hands clench tightly into fists by your side, almost shaking with the effort not to start yelling. You can feel your fingernails digging into your skin hard enough that you start to worry you’ll draw blood. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing, you think bitterly. Letting her know that she could ever get to you. You hate this: the way she talks to you like you’re some child.
More than anything, you hate how small it makes you feel. Weak. Helpless. And maybe that’s why you keep wondering what Shauna would do about it. What Jackie would want to do, what she would help you do. You run through the scenarios in your mind, each one more gory than the last. The thoughts of bloodshed are the only things that manage to calm you, finally allowing you to give Mrs. Loomis a stiff nod.
Wouldn’t it just be so easy to handle it their way for once? Your way, ignoring it and hoping things changed, hadn’t been all that effective lately. You’ve taken the high road for months on end and have nothing left to show for it.
Jackie greets you the second you step out of the door, hands pressing against your shoulders in a way that would have you anxiously glancing around the hall if you didn’t already know it was empty. She pulls you forward by the straps of your bag, pressing a kiss against your cheek in full view of that tiny door window. You wonder if Mrs. Loomis saw, but decided that she must’ve. You’d easily seen Shauna from where you were standing, and you knew your teacher was probably going out of her way to look. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not this time.
Even Shauna notices that fact.
“Forget to do your homework?” Shauna asks, lips pursed tight. She, of course, already knew that wasn’t true. It was obvious she didn’t have the skill of subtlety that Jackie so often used to dance around the question, but you appreciated the bluntness of it all. She doesn’t say it in so many words, but you feel it in your bones nonetheless. What did she want with you?
“It seems you’re quite the topic of discussion lately,” you say dryly.
Shauna hums. “Is that right?”
It’s easier this way, to get ahead of it.
Jackie doesn’t pull away, her thumbs rubbing thoughtful circles against your shoulders as her grip tightens around the strap of your bag. “What did she say?”
“Asked me how well I knew you. Insinuated that she thought I was falling into the wrong crowd. That I was just hanging off you.” You don’t bother to hide the bitterness in your voice. Why should you? Not when they would understand, when they would spark your ire into a burning fire. You want them to.
Shauna goes absolutely rigid, her mind racing as she looks between the two of you. “She doesn’t know anything.” It’s both a statement and a question, like she isn’t quite sure herself.
“No,” you agree. “But she thinks she does.”
“She’ll be watching,” Jackie adds thoughtfully. The word lingers long after it leaves her lips, heavy with implication.
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Invisible — Conrad Fisher x Fem!reader
Description: every summer you always join your grandparents at there beach house at cousins beach because of your problems with your mom, but this time… let’s just say you aren’t the only grandchild to come along
Warnings: reader being ignored, mild abuse (just a slap on the face that’s all) hurtful words are said, and bad writing
Fandom: the summer I turned pretty
Requested: no
( Read part two here )
Every summer, your mother would drop you off at your grandparents house so she could have her freedom, but this summer was the one that changed your relationship with your family forever
Your grandparents have decided it would be a great idea for your oldest cousin and her two boys to stay with you guys during the summer because of her nasty divorce.
Of course you were excited about this, but you weren’t as excited with all the attention your cousin have gotten because of this
So this caused you to stay away from your grandparents beach house to hang out at the fishers beach house instead.
“Hey y/n!” Said Steven as he saw you enter the house “trouble at home?”
You looked at Steven before nodding your head, this time things were different.
The oldest son of your cousin was bragging about how he was the better one and talking about having his own insurance for his car when he turned 15, while you were trying to engage in a Conversation, let’s just say that you got talked over.
“Yeah, I needed to get away from the huggy and the wuggy that aiden watches.” You lied as you sat on the couch
“Hey, maybe you can bring Aiden over to play some video games with me and Jere.” Suggested Steven “that is if he wants to.”
“He probably will… is Conrad around?” You asked looking around the house
“H-“
“Y/n! What brings you by?” Asked Susannah as she gave you a hug “oh I heard what happened with your cousin, that’s horrible for her to go through a nasty divorce.”
“Yeah, it’s been pretty rough on her.” You said as you tried to fake a smile
Surely a divorce is awful, but it isn’t the end of the world.
“I remember playing with her when we were kids, she was a life of a party when it comes to parties.”
“Yeah… anyway is Conrad home?” You asked “I really need to speak to him.”
“Yeah, he’s around.”
“Thanks, I’ll just find him.”
With that you left,
After thirty minutes of finding him, you finally find him, so you walked over to him sitting next to him on the sand
“Hey y/n.” Said Conrad
“Hey.” You said with no expression, as you looked down at the sand
“What’s wrong?” Asked Conrad with concern laced in his voice
“My family been ignoring me again.” You said as you crossed your arms on your knees placing your head on your forearms
“Y/n, I hate to see you like this.” Said Conrad “you just need to stick up for yourself.”
“I know but sometimes its just hard ok.” You said as you were on the verge of tears “it doesn’t help when they have been doing it for years.”
After you said that, Conrad’s eyes lit up
“They’ve been ignoring you for years?” Asked Conrad “but… your relationship with your grandparents are great.”
“That’s because they raised me Conrad.” You said “and I get called shit because of it.”
“What do they call you?” Asked Conrad as he placed an arm around you, pulling you into an embrace
“They think I’m spoiled rotten and a burden to my grandparents.”
At this point, Conrad was fuming, just because your mom was a horrible mother doesn’t mean you are an attention seeker.
“I’m sorry, you had to endure that y/n.” Said conrad “if I could take the pain away I would but-“
“Just… hold me.” You said “that’s really what I need right now.”
You came back home and it was midnight, after staying with the fishers and conklins for a few hours, you finally returned home.
You opened the slide door as you carefully shut it not wanting to make a bunch of commotion, you walked further into the house before being stopped by your grandmother
“Y/n, why are you out there this late at night?”
“I was visiting the fishers and the conklins.” You said, slowly turning around
“Your always over there, I think it’s high time that you start staying on house arrest.”
“What so I can listen to Kelly nag and nag about how shitty her life is?” You asked “I don’t want to.”
Your grandmother eyes widen at the language that we’re using
“And you are to not hang around that Conrad fella either.” Said you grandmother “I don’t need you going around saying things like that when there are children in this house.”
At this point you were furious, so you did what you always did, run away from your problem, but that didn’t work because you were grabbed by the arm pulling you back
“Let go of me!” You shouted “your hurting me!” As you tried to free you arm from your grandmothers grasps
“You think I’m hurting you?” Asked your grandmother “this is hurting you, I never seen a girl that is so selfish that all she thinks about is herself!”
With that, you were slapped on the cheek, sending your hand to the sensation of the burn. In shock
“I hate you!” You shouted as you ran upstairs, and with with tears running down your face that. You cried yourself to sleep that night with a red mark on your face
——
Expect a part two of this coming soon!!
The summer I turned pretty masterlist
#the summer i turned pretty#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher x you#tsitp conrad#tsitp fic#tsitp imagine
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Hey! How would the moon boys react to fem!reader? Cupping their face in her hand out of the blue?
Weather is more than appropiate for fluff stuff <3
Moon Boys + Reader cupping their face
Marc Spector:
The most reluctant of three. He craves for signs of affection but won't react positively to it at first.
Your hands holding his face makes him feel... weird, a little vulnerable, a little childish. Consider most of his childhood and adolescence he didn't get much love.
"Drop it" he murmurs, but he's not serious. Won't take your hands off, won't turn away, he just struggles with his own feelings.
Little by little, he breaks. He sobs with an expression of embarrasment, as if waiting you'd find it ridiculous or stupid (which of course, isn't the case), and may kneel down as you still cup his face, all defeated and tired.
Listening words of reassurement and compassion is the best for him. Feeling you trust him and love him despite any mistake or flaw gives him the self-confidence he lost so long time ago, and the fact you don't judge him is even more important.
"I'm sorry, I... I know I'm not good foor you..." "You never say that again, Marc. It's a lie. You're good, for yourself and for me"
Steven Grant:
You probably caught him in the middle of a crisis or a panic attack, mumbling so fast his accent becomes thicker and you can barely undestand what he says, and once you put your hands on his jaw...
"What are...? Ohhh that feels better, yes..." he murmurs as soon as the warmth of your hands relax him almost immediately.
May close his eyes just to enjoy your spoils, even will accept to sit and, perhaps, a little massage on the shoulders (he's very ticklish so be careful).
Little by little, his tangled mind takes a straight trail of thoughts, and he vents everything in a more calmed tone. It's not just the flesh to flesh contact, it's the fact you're there, listening him, what helps him to recover quick.
Chances are he may reccomend to take a nap together, just to be sure he'll wake up in a better mood, or simply make some tea for you and him as a gesture of appreciation for what you did.
"Honestly don't know what would I do if you weren't here, love"
Jake Lockley:
For this case I can imagine two scenarios: one, Jake returning early in the morning, all tired and moody, or two, you having to approach Jake to calm him down since he's losing a little his temper and probably about to do something hideous.
If it's the first case, Jake simply walks in, dropping his jacket nd mumbling something about being sick of everything. Once your hands reach his face, he sighs almost in relief, as if he just entered a hot bathtub.
"I'd wish I could spend night here with you instead of outside more often, bonita" he complains and groans like an exhausted dog, allowing you to rub his face. A soft smile appears in his lips, and you know he's back to normal again, like a spell.
The other scenario sounds dangerous, but not because of Jake. As soon as he feels your presence right next to him, something in his mind sounds an alarm and he stops anything he's doing. If you'd got hurt during his watch, he would never forgive himself.
"Jake, Jake!" anyways you need to call him out to be sure he's paying attention. "It's okay, mi amor, it's over". Just a single hand will do, and he cups it into his own hand, gently squitting his eyes.
"Perdóname, princesa, I just... had a bad time" he murmurs, grabbing onto your hand as if he'd never let it go.
#moon knight#moon knight series#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley headcanon#marc spector headcanon#steven grant headcanon#moon boys
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Can we just think about somno/cock warming with Steven for a quick sec? Like imagine getting sweet doe eyed Steven semi hard to sink down onto him just to sleep. Waking up to the poor man whimpering and begging for you. Lord take my soul now.
Summary: Steven is preoccupied by a research task for Marc that keeps him away from bed with you. You decide to keep him warm until he's done in the most distracting way possible.
Word Count: 2,850
Content: somnophilia, cockwarming, overstimulation.
ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST
It's dark in his flat, the only light is coming from the small desk lamp in the corner and the blue aquarium lighting from the fish tank that bathes everything in a shade of pale neon blue.
The rain is pitter-pattering against the large windows. There is a faint scraping sound of pages being turned every so often.
You're lying in bed, head propped up against your pillow, as you try to keep your eyes open and observe Steven where he's hunched over his desk that's filled with piles and piles of books that he's completely consumed by. He's drowning in the books. Face practically pressing up against the ink that you're convinced will leave smudges on his soft cheeks. His outdated librarian glasses are slipping down the arch of his nose.
"Steven," you murmur sleepily, asking him for the third (or is it the fourth time tonight?) to come join you in bed.
But you get the same reply you got last time. A gentle hum, followed by, "in just a minute, almost finished love."
You give it another minute, then two-- until a good half hour must have passed before you call out for him again.
"Steven."
The only response you get from his is a distracted hum. He doesn't look up.
"Come to bed," you try again, but it's a lost cause.
Ordinarily, you barely have to finish the second syllable of his name before Steven's head pops up like a meerkat, with his alert and undivided attention focused all on you.
In the rare times he didn't, you'd certainly get his attention by the time you finished the first repetition of his name.
Tonight though?
This is probably the fourth or fifth time for the evening you've asked for him.
You're… annoyed to say the least.
With a heavy sigh, you raise yourself into a sitting position in the bed.
"What is so important it can't wait until morning?"
It comes out just a tad sharper than you had meant it to.
That seems to finally snap Steven out of his trance.
He looks up from his book, turning in your direction as his eyes flicker over to you with a wide-eyed expression of surprise. Like someone's just stirred him from a spell.
"Oh! Sorry sorry," he closes the book in front of him and holds it up to you.
"Marc needed me to decode the location of some ancient map, and it's a bit more complicated than we thought. It's a bit like a treasure hunt, quite fun actually. We're trying to retrace the steps of Hargrave Marks, he's an archaeologist from the 60s, who had this detailed journal of his treks. But I also have to cross-reference it with several history books cause the accounts aren't exactly contemporaneous or accurate even for the time it was written. Hargrave had a tendency to opt for good storytelling instead of accuracy and--"
His excited ramble pewters out as you cross your arms across your chest. It's rather hostile, you realise when you see him bite his lip in worry at the sight and follow up with a much quieter: "Sorry, love.. am I being too loud? Am I keeping you up?"
There's an apologetic smile on his lip, and normally that would be enough to make any traces of irritation thaw and melt into dew. You're soft for Steven that way.
But this time, his cluelessness at the source of your irritation only serves to make you more irritated.
"No, that's hardly the issue. I want you to come to bed with me."
You can admit that you're acting spoiled.
Because you are spoiled. Used to being spoiled rotten by Steven's profuse adoration. The way he constantly showers you with his affection and full attention at all times. It's probably why it feels like something that is rightfully yours (him) has now been unfairly ripped from you by someone else (Marc), and you're not happy about it, childish and unreasonable as it may be.
And poor Steven, he looks genuinely torn, eyes flittering between you and the book pages. Hesitation etched over the line between his brows, his eyes lingering at the reflection of the TV screen for a few conspicuous seconds too long (Marc).
Whatever Marc is saying to Steven, has him sheepishly ducking his head back down towards the books.
"It might take a while longer," he murmurs, eyes not meeting yours. "Maybe half an hour? Or an hour? If you're sleepy you shouldn't stay awake for me. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."
You lie back down on the mattress with a huff as you turn away from him. Trying to shut out the white noise of his pen scribbling away as the pages continue to turn.
Mad as you may be. It's cosy and warm underneath the sheets. And you had a long day at work. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep. The odds were against you. You don't know how long you are out for, but you wake to the weight of the bed shifting.
Blinking your bleary eyes open, you see Steven with one knee clambering into bed, books strewn all across the mattress, and another half dozen huddled up in his arms, and a pen tucked behind each ear.
"I'm sorry, love. This was taking longer than I thought, and I hate being away from you. I didn't mean to wake you up."
God, this sweet adorable man. All at once, guilt washes over you for having been so harsh to him earlier.
Stretching out your arms, you wrap them around his back and curl one hand around the back of his neck as you pull him down to you, relishing the small "oof" sound he makes as he plops down on top of you with a soft thud against the mattress, books landing somewhere besides you both.
"You finished?" you ask.
He shakes his head, apologetically. "Not quite yet, sorry. But I thought I could maybe do the rest in bed? That way I can at least be close to you. If you don't mind? I'll try to be very quiet."
You hum, pressing your face into the warm crook of his neck. He's so soft and warm. Comforting and steady. You draw in your breath and you're not sure if you're imagining it, but he has that familiarly pleasant smell that reminds you of a bookshop. Notes of coffee and a freshly turned page. Drawing up your lips, you mouth a small path along the line of his neck, and relish the keen little sound that he makes. A quiet little whine as his hips hitch up and press up against your legs.
"Lo-love that's-- oh god that feels--wait, I still--" he's babbling, the way he always does when your lips are on him.
You nip at the soft skin with your teeth, not enough to hurt, just with enough strength that you know will have his toes tingling as he tries to curl them against the sheets for reprieve.
"Wait," he murmurs, even though he's the one who's bearing down his weight down against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against the softness of your stomach, separated only by the comforter. "I--I need," he licks his lips, trying to find his words. Eyes glazed in a way that tells you the blood in his head has travelled south, and his capacity for speech is quickly going with it.
You hum softly, one hand travelling between your torsos as he hisses sharply at the touch of your hand when it brushes up against his clothes then underneath, your knuckles dragging against the bare skin of his soft belly. "Hmm? Need what Steven?"
Reaching for his waistband, you slip your hand into his boxers. He's already half-hard, and still rising as if to meet your fingers as you wrap them around the girth of his cock, and he gasps brokenly with a half-strangled noise.
"Tell me what you need," you remind him.
His pupils are blown wide as he swallows, Adam's apple constricting against that graceful throat. He's trying to find his words again.
"I need to finish my reading. I promised Marc."
"So finish, I'm not going to stop you."
Steven's gaze darts downwards between your body, to where your hand is still wrapped around him under his sleeping pants, with a pointed look in an unspoken accusation that you are in fact: stopping him.
His cock twitches in your grip. You can feel the slick wetness of precum leaking down from the blunt tip, trickling down your knuckles even as Steven is trying very hard not to react.
You can't help the smile that spreads on your lips as you tilt your head up, until they're brushing against his sensitive ear, letting your breath fan against the shell of it as you speak.
"Don't let me distract you, keep going, keep reading. Finish your work." You're still holding him in one hand, as the other moves to the waistband clinging to his backside and drag it down.
You let your nails gently graze along his spine, round hips and thick thighs as you do, enjoying the way he shivers defenselessly under your touch.
"Uhm, love-- you're--"
It doesn't take much encouragement or strength on your part. You grab hold of his hips as you roll him onto his back, and he lets you. No resistance on his part, as you straddle his hips, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.
"I'm what Steven?"
The tip of his tongue, pink and glistening darts out in a nervous habit against his lower lip.
"No-nothing, nothing..." he manages. Words slurred and clumsy in his mouth as his hands grip onto your thigh as if he never wants to let you go.
It's all you can do, not to laugh. Whatever promises he had made Marc, it seems to have flown out of the cuckoo's nest.
You really should let him finish his work for Marc though, it won't do to make Mr. Grouchy even grouchier. Problem is you're not quite ready to let go of Steven or to relinquish his attention that you've finally earned from him this evening.
Dragging your hand, you let it caress the soft cotton of his shirt from his chest to his stomach then further down as you grip his cock again.
"Don't worry, let's make a compromise" you say as you stroke his cock up and down the fully hardened length as it twitches and jumps in your grip.
Steven is already nodding forcefully before he's even heard what he's agreeing to. You grip his cock angling it between your thighs and you can hear the soft gasp erupting from his mouth as the tip catches against your slick entrance.
"Keep reading, and when you finish--" you tilt your hips, sliding down in a slow and steady pace. The pleasure is sweet and heady as it skitters through your spine.
Steven's fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, trying to drag you down deeper onto his cock. But you refuse to let yourself be rushed, taking your time to prolong the sweet stretch of the thickness of his cock splitting you open as you sink down on him inch by slow, gorgeous inch, until he's buried to the hilt of you.
His eyes are on you, wild and frenzied, like you're the only thing he can see, his whole world: sky, ocean, and every atom in between are composed of you.
Leaning down, you lie flush down on his firm torso, until your breast are pressed up against his chest, you tilt your head up just enough to press a much too chaste kiss on his lips.
"Keep reading" you tell him again and he whines.
"Love, I can't--"
"Finish the work" you interrupt. "You've promised Marc and I'm not going to move an inch until you finish."
His eyes widen impossibly large at your words, as he starts to realize what he's signed himself up for. Then his bottom lip pushes forward. He's actually sulking, and god, he has no right to make pouty look so gorgeous.
Without any words, his right arm reaches out along the mattress, patting it down until he finds one of the books and brings it to his chest. He lets out a slight testy murmur, in a grouchy tone that is much more characteristic of Marc than it ever would be for Steven.
Once the book is settled in his hand and he starts to read, you nestle your face into his chest. It's the best solution to prevent yourself from bursting out into laughter when you hear Steven mumble discontentedly about how: he's never going to do Marc any more favours again.
He still smells of books and coffee, of warmth and happiness that makes you feel weightless against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he reads, hypnotic, like being rocked to sleep, and before you know it you drift to sleep.
You wake to pitch blackness. A sweet syrupy pleasure that flutters somewhere deep in you, but you can't tell where it comes from, and you can't grasp it in your hold. It skitters to your stomach and down to your thighs, warm and soft that makes you clench down to chase the sensation.
A keen gasp fills the room. Too low to be your own voice.
You blink your eyes against the darkness, mind still fussy and drunk with sleep, as you shift your body and are rewarded with that sweet-honeyed pleasure swirling through your stomach, except brighter this time, sharper, and you can't help but clench down again, hoping you can catch it this time and make it stay.
The sound comes again, a sweet gorgeous gasp, except this time, it breaks off in the middle with a quiet whimper.
"Love, please..." the voice pleads with you.
It's such a pretty voice, soft-spoken and gentle, but it sounds almost pained.
Steven...
You dart up, elbow anchored against his firm and solid chest as you look down on him, the small patch of drool on his white shirt, shit...
Trying to raise yourself further, the warm pleasure drags against your insides, and you can't help the moan slipping past your lips. Thick and heavy, his cock is still inside of you jerking from the movement in protest.
You fell asleep on him.
"I finished all my work now." He says it like an announcement.
You look down until your eyes meet. They're sharp. Mouth in a firm line of concentration. Then his hands grip down on the outside of your thighs, hard enough that you think he might leave permanent dents.
Patient, sweet, polite Steven is at the end of his ropes it seems. He pushes you down flush against him until you're pressed down as far as you can take him. It's white and electric, no longer the slow and lazied pleasure you've dreamt of in your half-awake state.
"Been having a nice restful nap, you have," he says, and you don't miss the sarcastic tone in his voice even as he groans, low in his throat, while he continues to reprimand you.
"Did you know that you've been shifting and squeezing down on my cock the whole time? No, I don't imagine you did, love."
The firm weight underneath you shifts, and you barely have a second to breathe and regain your composure before Steven raises his hips, thrusting up and into you as far as he goes.
"Felt like I was going mad."
He lifts you up, hands beneath the underside of your thighs, as he drags his cock alongside you, slowly. Maddening.
It feels like payback. The sweetest lesson you've ever earned.
"Said you weren't going to move until I've finished," Steven reminds you, as he holds you still. "But I've been done for quite a while, and you've been moving quite a lot before then actually. Writhing, hot and wet around me. I can actually feel it dripping out of you."
He pulls out of you until only the fat tip is resting inside you, his hips flush back down against the mattress. One hand draws down between your legs, his thumb sliding wetly against your folds, infuriatingly slow, until he's reached your clit but doesn't press down. He holds it there, without any pressure as if he's waiting for something.
"You ready love?" he asks, holding you poised against him, his hips canting up in preparation
Steven searches for your eyes, and the look in his eyes, focused and honed, has your heart beat fast and excitedly with no logical rhythm against your ribs.
"Yes, Steven."
It's all he needs, he thrusts up as his hands pull you down on him in a devastating stroke that incinerates the air in your lungs.
You're in for a long night, and whatever shortlived sleep you managed to catch earlier won't be enough for what Steven has in mind for you two. Not when you've gotten him riled up like this.
But that's alright.
You look down at Steven, eyes glassy with a feverish sheen. All of his attention pinned on you.
It's not so bad is it? To get to have all of Steven's devoted attention for yourself like this.
Dedication: To @thirstworldproblemss who was indispensable as always, for the brainstorming, the coming up with the hottest Steven dialogue (jesus fucking christ her lines are fucking fire) and for the beta-ing and putting up with my atrocious run-on sentence, tenuous grasp of grammar and wilful typos. I love you.
Also to the secret nonny. You don't know what your ask did to me (and TWP) we went into a horny frenzy and I couldn't sleep haunted by the horny images that were flashing behind my eyes because of your ask. I adore you! thank you for sending this in.
a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡
#oscar isaac#moon knight#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#steven grant#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fic#moon knight x you#moon knight x reader#💌 asks
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s&z was shorthand for zim and skoodge so it wouldnt show up in the main tags btw. i dont want them knowing im a su fan without them following me
hello steven universe fans. the bismuth episode? yeah, reverse it. thats s&z now
#pinky if you see this#what i mean is: instead of bismuth telling steven to shatter her and then trying to kill him#i have zim trying to kill skoodge#and then#well i mean its a bit more complicated. zims just trying to garner a reaction#when skoodge doesnt give the one zim wants#he decides to ''do it himself''#devoto spoil#oh and i guess instead of. other party not knowing what actually happened to her. its other party literally would not be able to remember#????????#idk im more tired than when i posted this#so its a bit incoherent
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𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓔𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰
𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕
[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and jake enjoy having movie nights, but he has the habit of spoiling the endings for you. this time is different, though. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.9k a/n ☽ ⤏ my fifth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ this one derailed from me as well. I swear these guys have minds of their own. this ended up being a lot sappier than I intended, but...c'est la vie. I love one jake lockley. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽
“I’ll never forgive you for this.”
“Come on, querida. You should’ve had some idea that this would happen.”
“No, I absolutely did not!” You lifted your face from your hands, twisting to the side with your elbows still planted on your knees in order to glare up at your smirking fellow historical drama critic. “It’s not my fault that I don’t have a sixth sense for figuring out plot lines in the first ten minutes like you do!”
“Says the writer,” he chuckled, eyes glittering. “If it makes you feel any better, Steven wasn’t expecting it, either.”
That did, actually. You and Steven had long since developed the practice of conducting ongoing commentaries and speculations on the potential plotline based on the details revealed in whatever media you’d enjoy together—be it TV shows, movies, or books (print or audio)—whereas Jake was more the type to verbalize his predictions as they came to him, disregarding any suspension of disbelief. At least Marc only remarked on the glaring inaccuracies regarding combat, weapons, or injuries that Hollywood lauded for exaggerated effect.
On one hand, it used to drive you crazy—you preferred to experience things as they unfolded and let the story tell itself, following along for the ride…but, on the other hand, the knowing gleam in Jake’s eyes, the smug tilt of his close-lipped grin, and the way he’d start to pay more attention to you instead of the film (particularly with his hands—rubbing his palm over the line of your, at times, tense shoulders, grasping the nape of your neck and stroking the pad of his thumb along your hairline and under the shell of your ear, or petting your head like one would a beloved pet—about which you could never truly complain) eroded your exasperation over time. Now you almost looked forward to it—even if you still gave him a hard time about the inevitable spoilers involved.
Tonight, it would seem, however, that he’d decided to bide his time in order to see your unprepared reaction without dropping an obvious statement that would have indicated the plot twist to you ahead of time. For once, admittedly, you would’ve appreciated the warning.
“How could they say that about her?” you bemoaned, eyes returning to the screen with prolific lamentation. “She’s literally done nothing to them—she doesn’t even want to marry him, they didn’t have to drag her reputation through the mud!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, querida,” Jake chuckled, “it was visible from miles away.”
You huffed and turned away from him, refocusing your attention on the television screen. You watched the protagonist’s subsequent emotional breakdown with trepidation, frowning as she was scorned and criticized by the people that should have been her allies and had claimed to have been her friends. The only people that believed she was innocent in the matter were her sister and, fortunately, her love interest. He arrived late the next rainy night on a raven-black horse that shivered and bellowed mist from his nostrils as the man, drenched and pensive, dismounted to greet the distressed young woman at the door of her family’s home.
“Hey,” Jake murmured, nudging your side with his elbow. “It’ll turn out fine.”
You glanced up at him, relaxing slightly. You’d been teased in the past by several people for being so emotionally invested in fictional characters and their plight—your ex included—and while you weren’t ashamed of the fact you had the ability to extend so much empathy (even in hypothetical situations), you were sensitive to what others might think. Steven didn’t mind—he was much the same as you, honestly, and that was such a relief. Marc didn’t seem to mind one way or the other, thankfully. But Jake was a notorious tease and found a lot of joy in flustering you, and you were still getting used to gauging his personality since you hadn’t known him as long as the other two—so that he wasn’t poking fun at you about this was a monumental relief.
“I know,” you breathed, sinking into his side. He coiled his arm around your shoulders in response. “He’ll save the day with his money and marry her silly. These things never have sad endings.”
Jake hummed and drummed his fingertips on your upper arm. “It’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want you to be sad, chaparrita. Might have to pay that studio a stern visit otherwise.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed at the sentiment—as aggressive as it was. There was one thing that you had learned for certain since meeting him: Jake showed his love through protectiveness as opposed to the gentler means of the other two men. You’d never want him to hurt someone for you, necessarily (unless they deserved it, of course), but the thought that he would be willing to go up to bat for you, that he had your back no matter what, was far more reassuring than you had ever expected it to be. (Something, something, scary guard dog privileges.)
“Some movies need them, though,” you pointed out. “Sometimes that’s the whole point of the story—something out of the characters’ control happens, and they have to decide how they’ll react. Other times it’s pointless, serves no greater purpose to enhance the plot.”
“Shit happens in real life for no reason, though,” Jake pointed out, voice low as the music onscreen swelled. The love interest was embracing the weeping protagonist, having informed her that he had, in fact, solved the issue. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”
You nodded, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Some people are fortunate enough to have happy endings, though,” you murmured. “It’s a dangerous thing to claim, because things could always go wrong, but…” You swallowed, tucking your nose under the lapel of his shirt. “...I’m glad I met you guys. It was worth everything I’ve gone through.”
Jake stilled, falling silent. You had also learned that such intimate proclamations tended to throw him for a loop—he was not accustomed to revealing his inner emotions, since he’d repressed them (and himself) for so long. He was getting better at communicating in general, thanks to Steven’s long-suffering patience and gentle coaxing, but you could tell anything ‘mushy’ made him slightly uncomfortable. (Having noticed this, you’d asked him early on if he wanted you to slow down on giving him affection—but he’d visibly recoiled at that suggestion, more demanding than asking you not to stop. You could only really speculate since he didn’t talk about it much, but you knew that if you were in his position, even if such attention was new, you’d be famished for it. You’d decided he was just embracing his adjustment period instead of avoiding it, like Marc had tended to do at first.)
He shifted, angling his body closer to yours, and tucked the end of his nose behind the shell of your ear. “...We’re glad we met you, too, querida,” he finally murmured, his free hand slipping down to curl around the knob of your knee. He pressed his face into your neck, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding pulse against his lips. “You’ve done us a whole lot of good.”
Chest tightening, you focused resolutely on the television despite the warring urge to arm him up and press a litany of kisses all over his face and head—any affection he felt comfortable doling out was precious indeed, and you would grant him the privacy of tucking himself out of sight, even if it was under your chin. Marc struggled the most with letting himself be seen as any semblance of vulnerable—and while Jake was more inclined and apt to it, he was still learning to trust you in particular, so allow himself to lower his guard and be himself with you (while, simultaneously, discovering and determining exactly who he was).
To receive a compliment of such caliber from Jake, though, was the highest bestowment of honor anyone could receive. He was picky, you’d learned, extremely so—especially regarding people with whom he associated. He had high standards, given the fact that his top priority had always been protecting the system first and foremost. Allowing anyone with dangerous intentions close enough to potentially hurt them was simply unacceptable, and thus he kept most everyone at arm’s length. That was why he’d acted in such a way towards you when he’d been forced to intervene for Marc’s sake, leading to your first ‘official’ meeting—he never gave anyone the benefit of a doubt until they proved themselves worthy of his extremely loyal regard (and his protection).
“I’m glad,” you responded softly. “I always try my best.”
“It’s all we could ever have asked for.”
You caved, but just slightly. You tilted your head down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, nestling your nose into the neatly combed curls and inhaling the complimentary scents of their shampoo and hair gel. You curled an arm around his back and rubbed your palm in a series of circles between his shoulder blades, forgoing the movie for the sensation of his breath hitching against your throat.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “For letting me have my happy ending.”
He swallowed roughly, and when his muscles went rigid you almost expected one of the others to surface—Jake had a habit of retreating when emotions got to be too much for him, which you’d never taken offense to (only had ever worried, but it wasn’t usually very long before he slipped back into the driver’s seat to reassure you by diverting the topic to let you know he was okay)—but instead of Steven’s falsetto lilt or Marc’s flat baritone emerging to notify you of the switch, Jake’s rumbling rasp vibrated your skin via his scruffy lips brushing your artery. “It’s I who should be thanking you, chaparrita, for not running for the hills when you had the chance. You’ve…been there for them when I couldn’t be. And you didn’t…you stuck around for me.” He cleared his throat quietly. “Gracias.”
“De nada,” you returned, kissing his head again and reaching up to play with the errant locks at the nape of his neck. “Eres precioso a mi.”
He let out a breathless, if slightly wet, chuckle, and snuggled in closer. You counted it precious. You counted them precious.
“Tengo hambre,” you commented after a while, sensing he might like to have an out. “¿Qué tenemos qué podemos comer?”
Jake retracted, but it was slow and borderline reluctant, if you didn’t know any better. “Let’s order something, chaparrita. I don’t feel like futzing around in the kitchen this late.”
You smiled and reached for your phone. “Sounds good to me. Asian or…?”
“Thai.” To your surprise, Jake tugged at your arms as he reclined, coaxing you to recline on top of him, your back to his chest. He wrapped you up in an unyielding, tight embrace, smothering his face into your neck once more to mumble against your ear. “Those glass noodles Marc’s gotten before are good. With the chicken.”
You tried your best to bite back your smile, but you couldn’t help the heat building beneath your cheeks. You raised your phone over your face to pull up the corresponding delivery app. “Anything for you, handsome. Anything for you.”
#fisara's codices#fanfiction#moon knight#moonknightevents#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fluff#reader insert#jake lockley#jake lockley/reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley/you#jake lockley x you#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fluff
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Android Hero (3)
Summary: Worried about your well-being, your sister convinces you to accept the robot your company has been given. Steven cooks, cleans and takes care of everything you might need in your house. When you jokingly suggest that he start making the decisions on your life, your relationship changes to something very different. His program really is irrelevant. aka.: Obsessed robot boyfriend Steve. WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Future AU. Tension. Robot Steve. Smut. Masturbation. Sex toys. Vaginal fingering. Degrading kink.
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Masterlist
You sighed, staring at the door. Steve was always too conventionally on time.
"I'm on my way," you told him.
You searched around your clothes, finding a silk robe folded in your drawer, and put it on, covering your half-naked body.
Hopefully, dinner and charging would be equally quick, and you'd be able to get yourself off.
When you opened the door, Steve was waiting right there for you.
"Did you finish what you were doing?" he asked, almost in a teasing tone.
You glared at him. Did he...
No.
He was just a robot.
"I'll serve your food," he affirmed. "I suspect you'll want some wine?"
Wine usually made you horny.
Was he trying to send you a message?
But it was a good idea.
"Yes, please," you confirmed.
When you both walked down, he didn't direct you to the dining room, but to your living room, waiting on the coffee table in front of the TV.
"You should relax a little," he told you. "Watch your favourite show. Can I offer you a massage?"
You chuckled.
"Steve, you are really spoiling me," you chuckled.
He smiled.
"You are easy to spoil, miss Maximoff," he said simply.
You took your plate, placed your feet on the table, and Steve quickly sat in front of you, taking your foot and starting to massage it.
Maybe you shivered.
You hadn't realised how touch-starved you were until he actually touched you.
You took the glass he had poured you and let yourself relax as the fantasy show played on the TV, distracted until he spoke up.
"I must say," he ran his thumbs over the soft bit of your foot. "I was a little nervous when I was assigned to you."
You looked at him, surprised.
"Really?" you asked.
He confirmed with a nod.
"Humans need a lot of attention and care, I realise," he explained.
You chuckled.
"You talk as if we are pets," you pointed out. "Is that how you see us?"
Steve looked at you.
He didn't answer, though, only moving up your leg.
"How was work?" he asked, instead. "Did they like your dress?"
You felt yourself flushing a bit, flustered.
"I... uh..." you cleared your throat. "Got some attention. Compliments."
"Really?" he looked at you, interested. "What did they say? That you looked pretty? Radiant?"
You blinked surprised.
"Radiant," you agreed. "Exactly."
He smiled a little.
"This is your best colour," he affirmed simply. "It's supposed to make you look radiant."
You looked at him, and while you didn't want to talk about the sales guy, you felt like you should.
You would tell him anything he asked you.
"There was a guy in sales who said something more," you confessed, at last. "He didn't disrespect me, of course, just..."
Steve waited and you flushed a little.
"He didn't say anything extra," you explained. "Just that I looked beautiful and happy. And that I should do it more."
He listened to you attentively, and you sighed.
"And he looked at me... differently."
Like he wanted to fuck you.
"How?" he asked.
You processed your lips together.
"Like he wanted to... uh..."
Steve raised his eyebrows waiting.
"Fuck me," you whispered, not wanting to say it aloud.
"Oh?" he massaged your calf. "That must have felt good for you."
Your cheeks burned.
"I don't think you've been fucked in a while, have you?" he asked.
You gasped.
"Steve!"
Why was he even asking you that?
"I have access to your period tracker," he told you. "And you have logged every instance of sexual intercourse in it, if I recall correctly, it was-"
"I know how many times I've had intercourse," you interrupted him. "There's no need to mention it."
He gave you a soft look.
"I only have your best interest at heart," he affirmed. "Some humans require sexual stimulation for relief and happiness."
Your cheeks burned in embarrassment.
"Is that what you want from that man?" he asked, massaging your thigh. "For him to fill your sexual needs?"
You whimpered.
Why did he have to sound so sexy while saying that?
"I mean," you squirmed a little. "It doesn't have to be him."
You sipped your wine to stop yourself from saying more as your mind ran beyond your mouth.
"So you would just let any man have you?" he pushed his hand between your legs, almost touching your cunt now. "Such a slut."
You gasped and jumped when he traced a finger over your folds.
That wasn't his program! The Androids weren't programmed for vulgarity!
"Steve, I-"
"It's what you are, though," he hummed, tapping your sensitive centre. "Logically speaking."
Steve parted your folds and you could only pant. What was he doing?
"Slut," he continued. "Definition from Oxford Languages. A woman who has many casual sexual partners."
You whined - why did he sound so hot?
Steve massaged the outside of your cunt up and down, soft and almost unintending.
Did he know what he was doing?
"Steve, that's not my leg anymore," you panted.
"It isn't?" he asked, clearly teasing you, and tapped your clit, making you squirm.
"What are you doing?" you whined.
He wasn't a sex bot!
"I took the liberty of upgrading myself," he hummed. "To provide you with some more care."
You stared down at him, confused, and gasped when he stopped tapping and started circling your clit.
"I am, after all, tasked with fulfilling your every need," he continued. "And you told me to take control."
"Steve," you panted, squirming. "I don't know. I don't think we-"
"You don't think, miss," he corrected you. "This isn't your work. I'm the one who commands this house, and I command you. And I think you need special care to make you better."
You moaned, speechless.
Steve stood up, watching over you for a moment and reaching for you, untying your robe.
"You're so beautiful," he hummed, pushing it off your shoulders. "So hot... I've been watching you for quite some time, you know?"
You swallowed down.
"Have you?"
He hummed, fingers going down to your chest, and he toyed with the fabric.
"And you have no shame, do you?" he asked. "Always naked around me. Always showing off."
You shuddered.
"I didn't know you cared," you tried to argue.
His lips curled in a little smirk, and he moved his gaze to your eyes.
"I don't," he agreed. "But you make me care."
His fingers held the little bra, and you inhaled deeply, surprised when he tore it.
"Steve!"
"I bought better ones," he assured you. "Don't worry."
Steve picked you up, sitting on the place you had been sitting and putting you on his lap with your back to his chest, and you gasped when he used his legs to spread yours, pushing a finger into your cunt.
"Steve," you squirmed, shocked, but he just held you close.
"Be a good slut for me, miss," he whispered into your ear.
You whined.
Where had he learned to talk like this?
"It's what you like, isn't it?" he fucked your cunt slowly. "I read the little stories you have bookmarked on your phone."
Your face burned in embarrassment. He had read your porn?!
"Why?" you moaned, feeling him push a second finger into you.
"Because I want you to improve, miss," he answered simply. "And I think I have a good motivation for you."
You gasped when he moved his other hand down, rubbing your clit.
"You humans are so easy to work on," he cooed. "All you need is some good leading."
The moan that left your lips when he curled his fingers inside you was embarrassing.
"I knew those toys weren't enough to make you cum, miss," he cooed softly. "It's good that I'm here, uh?"
You whimpered, squirming.
"Steve," you arched your hips. "I'm so close."
He kissed your shoulder.
"Cum around my fingers, miss," he purred, moving quicker, and his finger vibrated on your clit.
You cried out, shaking on top of him as you reached your orgasm, and Steve only pulled away when you started pushing his hands away.
"Good girl," he kissed your shoulder. "Aren't you happy you wore that dress today?"
You panted.
This was just for wearing the dress?!
. . . .
"Android Hero" was posted on my Patreon in January. To read it now, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I post everything there earlier!
. . .
Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515 @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs? @patzammit? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics? @alexisshoto @princess-evans-addict @dreams-of-feysand
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#welldonebeca's android hero#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader fanfiction#steve rogers x reader fanfic#steve rogers x reader fic#steve rogers x reader smut#steve rogers x reader fluff#steve rogers x reader angst
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Happy 3rd Anniversary Little Nightmares 2!!
I have not finished my pointillism piece for the celebration, so it will have to be belated. Instead, I will share a disjointed rant about how I think Thin Man and the Signal Tower function!
In my mind, the Signal Tower from Little Nightmares 2 (pictured on the right) is a Lovecraftian Shoggoth (pictured on the left), and it crashed to the earth thousands- perhaps even millions of years before we see the game take place. This is a theory I have personally had since the game came out, but I know there is a theory video floating around somewhere about this same theory, and a few of my fellow fans also share it.
(If you have not played/watched LN played or listened to the podcast, and do not want it spoiled, be warned! Spoilers ahoy!)
I will attempt to explain how I see Thin Man and the Signal Tower having a sort of symbiotic relationship, and what exactly Thin Man is and where Mono comes from.
In "The Sound of Nightmares", we learn that children almost always get to the Nowhere in their sleep, with a few possibly having been born there (i.e. the Pretender). However, Mono seems different, and not just from Six. His abilities of walking through tv screens, and whatever other powers he possesses as he grows into Thin Man, seem to be completely natural to him- to the point that he must cover his face with a bag to keep them at bay.
I am going to take this a step further and say that Mono was not only born in the Little Nightmares universe, but he wasn't even born on their version of the earth!
This is where my theories begin to seem a bit far-fetched, so stay with me.
I have decided to call what Mono/Thin Man is, a "Broadcaster" (a name which was assigned to Thin Man by fans when he first appeared in the secret ending of the Residence DLC), and has been a populr name for him in fanfiction, as well as fanart and comics as well.
Well, now I want to take a closer look at Thin Man's powers- and how they are comprised of electromagnetic fields and frequencies of light. So why can Thin Man manipulate these things in his environment to the point where he can pretty much control reality?
Because he is part of a species- a "Broadcaster". An alien. He has these superhuman abilities because he isn't a human at all!
You may have noticed that I said "a" Broadcaster. Implying there are more- which I believe there are, somewhere, out in the universe. I personally think that they are ageless beings similar in life cycle to the fabled pheonix; Growing old and being reborn again new each time.
But where do these Broadcasters come from?
The way I think, the only way any being could manipulate the laws of matter and light could be to have it composing their bodies as well. Yes, I am indeed implying that Thin Man is a solid projection of light (yes, like a gem from Steven Universe lol). All this to say, I believe they are born amongst stars forming in nebulas. They are made of/powered by stars! Made of light!
I mean, think about it! Whenever he's seen in-game, he looks black and white and staticy just like he's on tv! Like he's made of fizzling and flickering light. But what about Mono? Mono is solid, and he can even die!
Well, we can explain Mono being more physical and vulnerable as him being a tiny baby of course! I don't think he's just trapped in a time loop by the Signal Tower- I believe the Broadcaster life cycle for Thin Man starts over when we see Mono wake up in front of the TV in the forest at the beginning of the game.
"But why is Mono 'born' as a 10/11 year old?"
That, my friend, is because the Shoggoth that composes this particular Signal Tower is garbage at approximating human anatomy! It's never seen a human baby, and therefore can only replicate what it has seen- children.
"But Pickle, what do you mean the Tower made him look human?? What???"
Well, if you were a giant behemoth that consumes entire populations, you'd need something to lure them in. Like an anglerfish! And what did I pose is made of light? Broadcasters. That's what I think so far. The Shoggoth rips through nebulas searching for a Broadcaster, and once it traps one it its body, it takes it to a planet and uses the Broadcaster's abilities to consume the populace. Make him look like them and plaster him all over their communications and entertainment.
So there you have it! My current Thin Man/Mono theories and headcanons. I may elaborate on this further, and draw up some broadcaster life cycle examples. Let me know what you think! 👁️✨
Again, Happy Anniversary Little Nightmares 2!! 🎉🎊🎁
#pickle blogging#pickle speaks#little nightmares#little nightmares 2#this took me like 2 hours#idk how you all do this#you are stronger than any US marine#mono#thin man
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hello there I really like your stuff and wanted to put in a request if there available. Recently I read a fic about if yandere Steven was a lucid yandere instead of delusional and while I know you personally headcanon him as delusional I wanted to see your spin on him being lucid (if your comfortable with that) and I was also wondering if he was would ever kidnap his darling what lead him to it,how,why his reaction to escape attempts,how he treats them and etc.If you do write this I would really love a gender neutral reader. Thanks for being you and have a good day 🩷🫶🏾🥰
Ok a lucid yandere Steven lets go this is a little bit difficilt scince stevens morals go almost completly angeinst all forms of yandere stuff so your gonna need a little bit of suspension of disbelife here but considering that this show is about gay rocks that shoudnt be too hard .
.A lucid yandere Steven would be a manipulative yandere meaning that he would rely upon manipulation rather than intimidation and kiddnapping
.As above he would not kidnapp his darling instead only using it as a lst resort once all else has failed like if you attempted to move somewhere far away or attempted to break up with him and then he would try and justify it as "protecting you".
.Steven Now lucid cannot kill it literaly goes ageinst all of his morals hece why he would try intimidation and manipulation to try and get people away from you but if he ever did accidently killed someone for you then his mind would shatter and he would become delusional
.Punishments what punishments? he wouldnt lay a fingure on you with out your permission this guy is the ultimate gentleman you can scream and shout and throw things at him the only thing youll achive is making him cry. Weather he is genuinlly crying becuse you
. For comfort there would be lots of physical touching and hugs and kisses (never with out yyou permission of course) he would definitly want to spoil you and expect him to be putting quite the dent into his farthers credit card buying you everything you could ever want or need i think he would try and see it as a way of making thing up to you. But of course their would have to be limits like going to see your friends and family is a big NO NO
end
#steven universe#su#yandere#yandere su#yandere steven universe#asks#ask#yandere asks#steven universe future#yandere steven#lucid yandere#yandere headcanons#headcanon#steven universe x reader
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I keep thinking about TBB and how it ended. Or the whole season i should say, the ending was pretty good with a few flaws ( in my opinion ).
And you know, I'm not surprised, as much as i LOVE this show, I'm used to cartoons getting shit. Its been going on for far too long.
Its Disney AND Netflix. And here is a list of shows that were doing good, got told mid season its getting canceled, and a rushed ending.
Amphibia
The Owl House
She Ra and The Princesses Of Power ( 2018 )
Centaurworld*
My Little Pony G4* and G5
Steven Universe*
OK KO lets be heroes.*
Star Trek Prodigy*
Kipo and the age of the wonderbeasts.
The Mandalorian ( i know its not a cartoon but it has the same vibes as TBB ).
And probably many more. It sucks, so bad, for animation. And I'm saying this because i fully believe Disney or whoever was going to cancel TBB if it already isn't. They just didn't want to announce that.
Other notes:
*Centaurworld ; Was meant to be an ADULT cartoon and very much has left overs from that, however Netflix decided it was too MLP-esc so they made it for kids instead which ended up just being a bunch of fart and butt jokes. And then got canceled anyways so everything had to rush and wrap up in season 2. Which SUCKS because it is so beautiful when it can be and has beautiful music.
*MLP G4 is not Netflix nor Disney and while it did get multiple seasons and an ending, it had new writers during, i don't know, s6 or s7. And things slowly went backwards. And the end felt rushed imo. It wasn't a bad one but it didn't feel.. satisfying.
*Steven Universe ; i love Steven Universe, it was canceled because the creator got an Sapphic wedding AND kiss scene on screen, on a kids cartoon. But they compromised by after the finale they would get a spin off and a movie. The finale is good. Whats rushed here to me, was the spin off. And again, this is not Disney or Netflix, but Cartoon Network.
OK KO and Star Trek prodigy are also not Disney or Netflix ( which apparently Netflix is trying to save Star Trek Prodigy ) but also kicked the bucket.
All this to say ; there is a huge problem within the animation area and I'm tired of CEOs or whoever forcing creators and writers to cancel or shorten their stories.
The Bad Batch s3 is no better in my opinion. I loved a lot of scenes of it and I'm grateful for a lot of it and I'm not honestly sure if this is Disney or Jennifer or someone else but it really hurts.
Here is why it bothers me:
I'll just get this one out of the way first. Tech. Tech COULD have been sacrificed. He COULD have died. In a way that was actually meaningful. Omega got captured anyway, she was probably going to whether Tech went home with them or not. His death IS sad and i DO see them trying to honor it, i do. But its bad to me because it really does feel like "gotta kill the autistic person". Its really annoying when shows try to have an autistic character and then mistreat them ( She Ra 2018 as well but Entrapta didn't die but she does get mistreated a lot ). Its annoying and hurtful. Especially with the writers and such teasing his fans so strongly. There was no reason to. Its not a spoiler.
The TALKS in between that we missed. Tech talking to Phee about Crosshair. Crosshair learning about Tech's Death from Omega. Omega talking to Emerie about her brothers. Crosshair coming back with Omega, we don't even see them just silently watching him walk into the ship. Its just nothing. I'm sure i am forgetting some because it happened, SO much during this season.
What happened to Cody. Like its fine if he's being saved for another series but then perhaps say that.
Creators do not have to be extremely secretive about everything. Fans who don't want spoilers don't go looking for it. I'm not implying they need to spoil the ENTIRE plot, but saying Tech is dead-dead is not something to be secretive about, An hour long finale is not something to be secretive about, etc.
The other Clone X's, while they are very very cool and supposed to mirror CF99... they weren't overly needed honestly. It felt so rushed. Like I'm not saying they needed to be someome either, they don't need to. But i wasn't fearful or full of impact when i saw them my genuine reaction was "this is too much now". It was like if they DID decide to put Darth Vader in it at last second. Like i fully believe Omega was supposed to be home with Crosshair for a little longer and help Echo and Rex with the clones. And then these new CX clones were supposed to show up in s4 and be the ones to get her again.
The fans.. would have wanted.. season 4?...... i don't know why its so bad to want that. And honestly atp, i don't get why its so bad to have plot filler. Its BAD for series that got canceled or shortened, but its not bad for a series that you want more of, because then you get more time with them or more lore if you're lucky.
It occured to me there was not one flash back. Not one about the past. The most was Omega talking about how she watched CF99 be made and that it implied shes older ( and is ) than them. Could you imagine the emotional impact on us and for Omega, watching her, watch them grow up. I don't think Rebels or TCW really had flash backs either but they usually did it in other ways.
I'm not like.. a good writer, so maybe writers on here will disagree and thats okay, I'm open to that.
TLDR: I'm tired of Cartoons kicking the bucket too soon for far too long. I feel like The Bad Batch s3 also had this treatment and it isn't fair to the fans.
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Okay, yeah... I thought so...
Replies screenshot from my add to this post this post that I accidentally found through an email notification of an @ that you'll see didn't even scan on my tumblr radar on a reblog chain I couldn't add on to again because I blocked OP (good ♥).
This attempt at an @ is still hilarious by the way like OP was so afraid of me she blocked me I literally couldn't fucking hear or responded to any of what you little shits were saying ...
@poutyrootveggie @duncebento @specialmouse Whoaaaaaaa you little mediocre weebshit abled-bodied special needs dunces! I was so shocked that the last tough guy @ from the miku simp with the tumblr badges literally didn't scan and I only found out about this from opening my email and clicking the blog notes!
Yeah, I know you abled-bodied little shits wish god nuked you half as much as she nuked me since you're begging not to be perceived as feeling anything in your legs since you wanna be a vegetable that bad so you can have access to your weeby little comfort items and Mickey D's toys forever because you're never gonna grow up and get laid and I know you're gonna understand this as much as I understand tiktok memes because back in my day it was a Beelzebub Song but let me teach y'all's lil' steven universe sour cream studio ghibli guzzling wannabe misgendering unwashed surfer brah asses about something called hyperbole and sarcasm and metaphor and what a real dramatic "queer reading" means : It means I know and I don't care and if you want me to be nit picky about it y'all are too special needs to even mind your spelling...
And in this context means no disrespect but sometimes I wish I had as much the privilege and confidence as a low support needs abled-bodied autistic on social media explaining a thing about their Fandumb Oppression Olympics to be able to get away with typing like that much of a high support needs retarded version of myself while pretending to be that shocked by what a woman in a wheelchair is saying while causally misgendering her while I don't have any OCD regarding using any sort of punctuation while I'm doing that so abled bodies don't think I'm retarded, because I'm an abled-bodied autistic that can get away with doing the best impression of a retarded version of myself because I'm quirky brah it's not that deep but this lady who I just called "dude" and I have no idea how she feels about that doesn't Know Her Memes TM and that's what matters.
Not that a bunch of abled-bodied autistic weebs are trying to gang up on an actually disabled wheelchair user right now over what again, essentially amounts to a fandumb superiority/bully complex bigger than the weebs on Big Bang Theory and again, essentially started over Spoopynatch dishorse,,,,,
Because when abled-bodied autistics talk like that online or irl itssamememario but if my wheelchair bound arse ever did that in front of an older abled-bodied authority figure or anyone abled-bodied really...! Nitwit school. Special Needs Programing. 9PM curfew stuck in a group home.
Anyway, Homestuck ended years ago go lobotomize yourselves with a sharpy collective hallucination style if you wanna unlive that angy abt it!
Was shit like this why I'm getting so many new followers? Thanks but no thanks kidz go listen to your bops! ;) ♥
Have fun being stuck in your little tenderqueer fandumb mode forever because you made sure Hazbin is my last one but at least I'm a recovering Disney Adult using her Vivzietine patch instead of a little shit gen z otaku who's so spoiled I can get away with pretending to be more brain damaged than I actually am!! ;) ♥ X.O
(But oh, before I go @poutyrootveggie ...
"#ITS A MEME ABOUT PEOPLES UNNECECARY DOGSHIT HELP #I NEED THIS TO BE SATIRE" .. You mean a bunch of unnecessary dog shit like..? A bunch of weebs and apparent Homestuck and Supernatural fans trying to collectively dogpile on a Hazbin Hotel fan sharing on a fandumb post on fandumb website tungle.hel when they try to scold you about wishing you were doing s satire when they don't understand hyperbole and you wish that this abled bodied shit autistic with a Miku plushie for an icon and tumblr badges was a satire in and of themselves but deep down you know they're seriously pathetic enough to think, again that, causally misgendering and harassing a wheelchair bound woman for barking too loud about their own Special Interest Demon Discourse TM on a post made by a person with the studio ghibli cat TM as their icon talking about their demon shit rusty nail show discourse cause they're loser who liked that dog shit in the first place and I know I have far superior taste than any of ya so don't fucking @ me again... You think any of this cyberbully shit when I was just minding my own damn business and didn't even @ OP sharing sharing my fandom story fandumb story on a fandumb post on a fandumb website makes you look like the good ones? You mean pulling some "unnecessary dog shit" on me like that?
Well, jokes on you hon...This Hellhounds second bite fueled by Kesha's Cotten Candy bit down so hard on that lil' pussy OP got so scared of me that they blocked me back, meaning I couldn't even fucking hear you when you tried to @ me to stir shit up again and hows this for a final anime showdown? I'm pulling a Hatsune Miku putting my headphones back on so I won't be able to fucking hear you again.. You abled-bodied-wannabe-tard! LA! LA LA!`~ ♥
You want my silence? Pay me for it!
#Hazbin Hotel#hazbin hypocritical#luna replies to people#anti culture#anti anti#vivziepop#undescribed#blocklist#tenderqueer#tenderqueers#weebs#weeby tenderqueers#It's 5 in the fucking morning what did I do to deserve this?#At least I know how to use my indoor voice when I'm typing ... sometimes ...#Oh yeah 'pouty' cause you're not a retard enough not to bully people ...#You have a Miku Icon and I have my own O.C and a Rocky Horror header how “unusual” can you truly be???#You wanna be a vegetable so bad ... ;)
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Review: Abigail (2024)
Abigail (2024)
Rated R for strong bloody violence and gore throughout, pervasive language and brief drug use
<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/04/review-abigail-2024.html>
Score: 4 out of 5
The trailers for Abigail, the latest from the Radio Silence team of Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett, promised a simple, straightforward horror/comedy that inverted the premise of their prior film Ready or Not (a lone female character faces off against a group of people inside a mansion, but this time, she's the villain), and that's exactly what the film delivered. Probably the biggest problem I had with this movie is that the trailers spoiled way too many of its wild plot turns, not least of all the central hook that the little girl at the center of the film is actually a vampire, which the film itself doesn't reveal until nearly halfway in -- but then again, I was having way too good a time with this movie to really care all that much. I came for blood and some grim laughs, and I got them, courtesy of some standout performances and filmmakers who know exactly how to take really gory violence and make it more fun than gross. If you like your horror movies bloody, this is certainly one to check out.
Our protagonists are a group of criminals who have been recruited by a man named Lambert to kidnap Abigail, the 12-year-old daughter of a very wealthy man, after she gets home from ballet practice and hold her ransom for $50 million. However, once they've taken her to their safehouse, a rustic mansion deep in the woods, strange occurrences start happening around them, and one by one, they start turning up brutally murdered. Before long, they learn two things. First, Abigail's rich father is actually Kristof Lazar, a notorious crime boss who has a brutal and fearsome assassin named Valdez on his payroll who may well have been sent to take out these hoodlums. Second, and more importantly, Abigail is herself Valdez -- and a vampire. A very pissed-off vampire who quickly gets loose and goes to war against her captors, using all her vampiric powers against them.
In a manner not unlike From Dusk Till Dawn, the film starts as a slow-burn crime thriller with few hints as to what Abigail truly is, instead focusing on fleshing out our main characters, a motley crew of entertaining crooks who have no idea what they're getting into. Our protagonists may not be a particularly sympathetic bunch (being kidnappers and all), but all of them are great characters who are very fun to watch, reacting as many of us would to seeing what happens in the latter half of the film and anchoring the mayhem in something human. Melissa Barrera makes for a likable and compelling lead as the token good one/telegraphed final girl Joey (not her real name; they all use codenames taken from members of the Rat Pack), Kathryn Newton was hilarious and got some of the biggest moments in the film as the rich kid hacker Sammy, and Giancarlo Esposito made the most of his limited screen time as their mysterious leader Lambert, but the real standout among the protagonists was Dan Stevens as Frank, a corrupt ex-cop who becomes the de facto leader of the group and takes charge once the carnage begins only to turn out to have some skeletons in his closet. This was a group of people who all felt like fully fleshed-out, three-dimensional characters who I wanted to see either succeed or, in some cases, get what they had coming to them, even if the words "let's split up" were used a bit too often during the third act.
The true MVP among the cast, though, was Alisha Weir as Abigail. In the first act, she's excellent at playing an innocent-seeming little girl -- with emphasis on "playing", as every so often she lets her precocious mask slip just enough to let both her caretaker Joey and the audience know that she knows a lot more than she's letting on. After the reveal, she turns into a hell of a villain, a potty-mouthed psycho who's absolutely relishing getting to murder her captors, operating with glee as she fights them and continuing to them even when they think they have the upper hand. The film makes great use of the fact that Abigail is also a ballerina, not just in her outfit but also in how the action and chase sequences give Weir (who has a background in musical theater) ample opportunity to show off her dance skills, which has the effect of framing Abigail as the antithesis of her captors: violent as hell, but also elegant and graceful in a way that lets you know that she's probably been doing this for a very long time. I can see Weir going places in the future, if her performance here is any indication.
When it comes to scares, this film is a mess of gore, inflicted on both Abigail and her captors. The first act keeps us in the dark as to what's really going on, and did a good job building tension as Abigail lurks in the shadows and the characters find the dead and mutilated bodies of her victims, not knowing what's really happening. There are decapitations, a man having half his face torn off, lots of bites, and more than one instance of somebody exploding into a mess of gore (a gag that, going by how they used it in Ready or Not, Radio Silence seem to be pretty big fans of). There's a creepy sequence of somebody getting psychically possessed by Abigail that spices up the proceedings with a different kind of horror, especially as the performance of the actor playing the victim shifts. The climax was action-packed and filled with vampire mayhem, and while I thought the story was kinda spinning its wheels at this point, the film was still too much fun for me to really fault it too much. At this point, Radio Silence has become a brand I trust when it comes to delivering popcorn horror experiences that aren't that deep, but are still very fun, enjoyable times at either the multiplex or in front of your TV.
The Bottom Line
I came to see a ballerina vampire kick people's asses for nearly two hours, and that's exactly what I got. Abigail is a rock-solid, rock-em-sock-em good time of a horror/comedy buoyed by a great cast and directors who know how to entertain. If you don't mind lots of blood, check it out.
#abigail#2024#2024 movies#horror#horror movies#comedy#comedy movies#horror comedy#vampire#crime movies#vampire movies#melissa barrera#alisha weir#dan stevens#kathryn newton#giancarlo esposito#radio silence#angus cloud
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Fundamental Differing
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masterlist | playlist | chapter vi
Chapter VII: Soft But Estranged
summary: an off day on tour doesn’t mean an off day for partying! The entire touring family heads out for what’s supposed to be a fun night off on the Vegas Strip.
tags/warnings: so much angst it’s gross, mutual pining, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, slow burn, hurt/slight comfort, pining, longing, break up, excessive drinking
a/n: i’m turning up the dial on this fic to 11. angst to the max. no fluff all pain. torture. enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!
——
October 1989
“Oh, honey, come here.” Robin pulls you into a tight hug, letting you sob and snot into her shoulder. It’s three in the morning, and you’ve been drinking yourself into a stupor. You left Eddie a week ago, and haven’t been able to breathe right since. Seeing the video for The Crawl on MTV this morning sent you into a dizzying depression, remembering the days when Eddie would sit at the kitchen table trying to put the chords together. You wished you were with him, on tour, greeting him with kisses after every set. But he left for tour yesterday without telling you, and you only found out when Dustin asked why you weren’t with him. You hadn’t had the heart to tell him you’d broken up with him, so Steve had to break the news.
“I just don’t get it. Why didn’t he try harder? Why didn’t he fight for us?” You weep into the fabric of Robin’s shirt as she rubs your back in soothing circles.
“I don’t know, love, but he’s a fucking idiot.”
Present day
Your POV
Your issue of SPIN comes out today, and your heart is slamming in your chest in line to check out. In your hands is a copy of the magazine, a picture of Corroded Coffin plastered across the cover. Eddie’s eyes seem to glare even from the glossy paper, his arms crossed over his bare chest while the rest of his bandmates stand behind him, looking equally stoic. In the top corner of the page reads, Femme Punk Takeover: An Interview with Death Dance Approximately. You read the words over and over, refusing to spoil the spread for yourself until you’re alone and safe to scream with your friends about it.
Once you exit the store, magazine clutched in your hand, you speed walk back to the hotel you’re staying in. Today is your off day, but tomorrow you play a show on the one and only Las Vegas Strip. Your plans include celebrating the magazine spread by drinking yourselves silly.
Back in your hotel room, you kick your shoes off and fling yourself onto the bed. Robin’s out shopping with Steve, and Sylvie and Lilith are getting lunch, so you have the afternoon to yourself. Instead of diving right into your own spread, you curiously turn the pages until you find the Corroded Coffin interview. It spans four full pages, including photographs and quotes in bold, big lettering. You swear to yourself you’ll only skim, but that promise is quickly broken when you read the first sentence.
Kings of Rock, Corroded Coffin, sit uncomfortably in their folding director-esque chairs, as if sitting for an interview is the least punk thing they could be doing. Their frontman fidgets with his gleaming silver rings, his lips pressed together in concentration or annoyance.
Jessie Stevens: So, on your new album Freak Show, there’s a song titled Sweetheart. It’s far different from the rest of the tracks, a calming break before the climax of Severed Thumb and Wiped Clean. What influenced this mood change?
Eddie Munson: Sweetheart is about someone that was once very close to me. It’s about love and loss, and a whole shit ton of heartbreak, and the one person that never made me feel like, the freak, y’know?
J: Do you still talk to this person?
The frontman’s face falls a little, like he’s reminded of something upsetting.
E: It’s… complicated.
You roll your eyes. It’s not complicated, the answer is a firm no. You and Eddie don’t talk, not more than you’re forced to. You continue scanning the article, until you find something else that catches your eye.
J: You’re currently touring with Death Dance Approximately, who are quickly moving up in the world of rock. What advice would you give them as seasoned rockstars?
Munson pauses, looking at his bandmates with a question in his eyes.
E: I guess I’d tell them never to let go of themselves. I lost myself for a while, honestly I’m still pretty lost. The industry is brutal, it takes so much of your soul away from you, and if I could go back and tell myself one thing, it would be not to let go of who I was. I miss that person.
You read Eddie’s answer, over and over, your eyes stinging. You miss who Eddie was, before signing, before giving in to fame and attention the way he has. Desperately, you want to believe that sweet boy is still in there somewhere. You think he is, after the events of last night, but you’re not sure how to yank him out of the steel shell he’s built around himself.
Further down, one more thing catches your attention.
J: Do you wish you’d done anything differently? Whether it be in your career, or in your life outside of it?
E: I wish I fought harder for my people. I lost someone I loved so much. I let them walk out of my life without any objection. I wish so badly that I could’ve made them stay, but… It was too late. I’ll never know now. I’ll never get to fix it.
Munson’s bandmates look to each other knowingly, clearly aware that the mysterious person he speaks of is the reason for his sour mood.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” It’s barely a whisper, despite no one being in the room with you. All he had to do was ask, and you’d tell him everything. Why you left, what would’ve made you stay, but he’d rather tell the whole world he fucked up than just apologize to you.
—
Eddie’s POV
His copy of SPIN lay open in his lap as he reads the Death Dance interview. His bandmates are god knows where, enjoying their day off while Eddie mopes in his hotel room.
J: How do you guys feel about touring with one of the biggest names in rock?
Eddie rolls his eyes at the question, knowing you probably hated hearing his band brought up in your interview.
Y: I mean, we knew them growing up. It’s really cool to see them all again, and we’re honored to tour with them.
Eddie’s surprised you’d even mention knowing him at this point, it makes his heart beat a little faster.
J: You know Corroded Coffin?
Y: Yeah! I moved to Hawkins my senior year, where I met Robin, and they were all seniors. We played DnD together, made music together. We lost touch after high school, but the world is so small.
J: Is that what Indiana is about?
Y: In some respects, yeah. Indiana was a huge change from where I grew up in Boston, a much smaller, more conservative place for sure.
Eddie puts the magazine down, and reaches for his CD player. He skips to track 5, and closes his eyes as the guitars wail in his ears. He only knows parts of the song, from hearing it live when he can stomach watching your set, but somehow it feels like listening for the first time.
I’m from a city where no one knows each other / where we walk down streets avoiding eyes and shoving by / and when I moved to Indiana, I began to understand why / I wasn’t meant for smaller towns, where everyone knows my name, / but you had been there, my saving grace, / and now I miss the comfort. / I miss the sounds of singing birds, and the crackle of a fire. / I moved back to the city, and though it’s pretty, / it’s no longer what I know. / Indiana wasn’t home, but I found my home there / In the warmth of your eyes and the smell of your hair / I let myself believe I could make my life here / and when I lost you, I lost everything. / Indiana wasn’t home, but I found my home there. Indiana wasn’t home, and I lost my home there.
He plays the song four times before he can bring himself to breathe right again. Eddie can hear your heart breaking through your voice, the way it cracks on the chorus, the way you belt the final verse. All at once, he understands why you left, why you felt you had no choice. He was drowning in the pressure of being famous, leaving you behind to watch him from the shadows.
—
Your POV
You finally throw the magazine down, and rush to shower and get ready to go out. Tonight is your night off, a night to relax and not think about the boy across the hall. It’s easier said than done, though, as your mind keeps wandering to that final paragraph. I’ll never know now. I’ll never get to fix it. All he had to do was ask. You’d tell him everything; why you left, what could have gotten you to stay. But he’s been so cold, so distant with you, and you can’t really blame him. It’s just as difficult for you to be on tour with him, but you’re still trying to be mature about it.
Your spiral is disturbed by a knock on your door. You clip your earrings in and rush to answer it, smoothing your shirt to make sure you’re presentable. You open the door to Robin and Steve, their arms linked together like best friends on the playground. Both of them are dressed up, Steve in a button down and black slacks, Robin in sequined overalls that scream Vegas! They greet you with gleaming smiles, and you move aside to let them in.
“I’m almost ready! Any idea where we’re going?” You ask them both before pulling your lipstick out of your bag.
“We’re taking the strip by storm! It’s a group outing, everyone’s coming!” Robin claps her hands together
“Everyone?” You quirk an eyebrow, looking at her in the mirror.
She bites her lip and glances at Steve, who only shrugs. “Yeah, Gareth and Jeff overheard us planning, and we figured some bonding was in order. But don’t worry! We can separate when we get there.”
You smack your lips together and shrug. “It’s not me you have to worry about.” You turn to face them, extending your arms to present your glammed up self. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re gonna rip Eddie’s soul out of his bod— Ow!” Steve rubs where Robin has elbowed his arm. “You look beautiful.” He recovers, and you stick your tongue out at him.
“Let’s get goin’ then!” Robin heaves herself off the bed, and you hold the door for her and Steve, following them out the door.
—
The casinos are the most insane thing you’ve ever experienced. The bright lights almost blind you, and the sounds of slot machines are so loud you can’t hear yourself think. It’s no wonder no one wins these things, it’s impossible to concentrate.
“C’mon!” Sylvie grabs hold of your wrist, leading you and your bandmates to the blackjack table. You glance behind you, sending a help me look to Steve, who shrugs in defeat as he follows Eddie and Jeff to the bar.
“Robin, I don’t know how to play!” You object, but she’s already sitting in a free stool by the dealer.
“No worries, babe, this is all on me. I just want you all to watch me win!” She’s buzzed, having gulped her champagne down in the car on the way here. You giggle at her confidence, knowing damn well she also has no idea how to gamble.
“Whatever you do, don’t bet our royalties.” Lilith nudges her, hiccuping on her own bubbly.
“Yeah, yeah. Hit me!” She slaps the table, and the dealer smirks like he knows he’s about to watch Robin lose all of her disposable income.
—
Eddie’s POV
“Whiskey, neat.” He orders his drink, flopping down on an empty stool. Steve sits next to him, while Jeff orders drinks for himself and Gareth. “Come hang out, man!” Jeff calls when he receives his drinks, already walking to the table his bandmates sit at with yours. Eddie nods a response, nursing his drink.
“You gotta at least try to enjoy yourself tonight.” Steve says, taking a sip of what looks like fruit punch.
“I am enjoying myself, Steven” Eddie holds up his whiskey, as if to prove the point. Steve glares at him, and Eddie takes a swig. “What?”
“You’re moping! You’re a famous rockstar on a cross country tour, and you’re moping. Had I known you were gonna be a drama queen this whole time I would’ve brought a goddamn book to read.”
Eddie groans, taking another sip. “I know, I know. I’m miserable.”
“You need to talk to them.” Steve says bluntly, not looking at Eddie.
“Why would I do that?”
“I know you want to.”
“I do not!”
Steve snorts, and Eddie presses his lips together in annoyance. “You read that interview, right?” Eddie nods. “So you know they talk about you now. You’re on their mind. You listen to the song they mentioned?” He nods again. “So you still care about what they have to say. What’s stopping you? Why are you so fucking scared?”
Eddie turns in his chair, back to where your band sits at the table, anxiously watching as Robin plays another round. Your face is pink, caused by the alcohol or the warmth of the building. Your shirt hugs your frame tightly, accentuating your features. You lift a glass of champagne to your lips, pinky extended, leaving a smear of red lipstick on the rim of the glass. Your eyes sparkle with excitement as your friends cheer Robin on. You have a happy glow to you, and it takes everything inside of Eddie to rip his eyes away. “What’s stopping me is the fact that they deserve better.” Eddie grumbles, gulping the rest of his liquor down and calling the bartender over. “I don’t want to ruin this for them. I’m already here, and that can’t be easy. I want them to enjoy this experience, I don’t want to intrude on it.”
“So, what, you’re just gonna drink yourself to death every time we have an outing? You think that isn’t causing them any distress? Your liver is gonna deteriorate soon, man. May wanna figure out a different strategy.”
“Will you get off my ass about drinking, Harrington? It’s rich, coming from the kid that shotgunned like sixty beers a week his freshman year of high school.”
Steve chuckles, and Eddie can’t hide the grin creeping onto his face. “Fair enough. But that was high school. I didn’t have a billion fans relying on me not to die of alcohol poisoning.”
“Nah, just the six hundred Hawkins High students. Big whoop!” Eddie emphasizes his point with a show of jazz hands. “Either way. If I’m gonna talk to them, I’m gonna be drunk when I do it.” Eddie gulps down his second drink in one go, feeling the effects of the alcohol starting to kick in.
“Whatever, dude. You wanna go play some cards?” Steve offers his hand, and Eddie takes it begrudgingly, yanking himself away from the bar and into the mass of the crowded casino. He’s forced to squeeze by you, apologizing under his breath as he brushes against your back, sidestepping between the tables. You don’t seem to notice. He takes his place next to Gareth, and Steve stands firmly between him and you, a bridge neither of you dare to cross. Eddie feels your eyes on him, and it takes everything inside of him not to look back. Instead, he’s dealt into the next hand, planning only to play one round as a distraction from your presence. The waiter drops off another round of drinks, and Eddie slaps his palm on the table. “Deal me in.”
—
“Okay, that’s enough!” Steve yanks on an objecting Eddie’s arm, hauling him away from the table. He’s already lost a good chunk of change, both at the table and to the expensive drinks he’s been gulping down. Despite his objections, Steve manages to drag Eddie out of the casino unscathed.
“Here,” Steve sticks a cigarette between Eddie’s lips and lights it for him. “Sober up a little.”
Eddie plucks the lit stick from his mouth and exhales, the cool night air bathing his warm face.
“Where,” Eddie’s eyes are glassy, his vision blurring as he takes in his surroundings.
“We’re outside the casino. Waiting for the car.” Steve lights a cigarette for himself, inhaling as Eddie does the same.
“Where’s Y/n?” He realizes suddenly that he hasn’t seen you in hours.
“Back at the hotel. They left a while ago, but you didn’t want to get up. Sometime around your fourth hand, when you accused the dealer of cheating.” Eddie looks down at his feet, seeing four of them, and hums in response. “They told me to make sure I get you home safe.”
He looks back up to his friend, cautiously optimistic. “They said that?”
Steve nods, a smirk on his face. “Told me they’d kick my ass if anything happened to you. So I’m keeping my promise.” The car pulls up, and Steve opens the door for Eddie. “C’mon, in ya go.”
Eddie lets his eyes slip closed as the car starts moving, promising himself he won’t throw up on Steve. He thinks of all the ways he could possibly tell you he’s sorry, how he could start to mend the wounds he’s caused you. He’s going to, he decides, as soon as he can manage to walk on his own.
—
Your POV
There’s a banging on your hotel room as you’re clawing your way out of your clothes. You pull your big t-shirt on, pause Breaking The Girl, and rush to answer it. You’re expecting room service with some wine, or Steve with tomorrow’s game plan. “Coming!” You call, finally opening the door, only to be greeted by Eddie’s wobbly figure. “Oh. Hi.” You look at his nose as you speak, afraid of what would happen if your eyes were to meet his. His face is flushed from the drinking, his eyes glazed over and his hair frizzy.
“Hi. Bad time?” He looks you up and down, causing your cheeks to warm despite your blood running cold. You realize now that the shirt you’re wearing is one that once belonged to him. “I’ll, uh, go. I can um… I’ll come back later.” His speech is slurring, and you can smell the alcohol as he speaks.
“No!” You say, too quickly. “It’s okay, I’m just getting ready for bed. You wanna come in?”
Eddie hesitates, but you step aside to let him enter. He stumbles forward, placing himself gingerly in the chair across from the bed, where you sit across from him, acutely aware of your current pantsless state. “I read the interview.” Eddie starts, looking at the floor. You cross one leg over the other, waiting for him to continue. “And I’ve been listening to the album. Your album, I mean. It’s great, by the way, really fucking great.” He won’t look at you, instead focused on fiddling with his rings. You don’t respond, unsure where he’s going. “I came to say I’m sorry.”
Your eyes widen. This was the furthest thing from what you were expecting. “For what?”
Eddie slides further into the chair. “Everything. I’ve been such an asshole since the tour started. Especially to you. I wanna say I didn’t mean it, but I did. I wanted to hurt you. Flirting with all those girls, playing that fuckin’ song in front of you. I meant all of it.”
You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. You doubt Eddie will even remember this conversation tomorrow, so you refuse to let his words convince you of anything. You don’t answer, just blink at him as he continues searching for the words to explain himself.
“I was trying to ignore it, I guess. How I felt about seeing you again. I was hiding it, and probably really poorly. I can't imagine it’s been easy for you, either, but you seem so happy. And it’s made me realize how horrible I’ve been.” He looks up from the floor then, his eyes searching yours for an answer. His face is flushed, his hair disheveled, and his lips are set in the pout that always got your heart stalling.
You clear your throat quickly, knowing it will crack under the pressure otherwise. “Eddie, it’s not your fault. You didn’t force this tour to happen. It’s an unfortunate coincidence.” He winces at your words, and you rush to correct yourself. “I mean, we didn’t know we’d see each other like this. We weren’t prepared. The way you’ve been acting, though hurtful, is completely understandable.” You want to cry. You want to throw Eddie out of your hotel room so you can sob into your pillow. But you don’t move, and neither does he.
“Why’d you leave?” He asks after a long moment of silence. “What happened to us?”
You know he’s drunk, and you shouldn’t be indulging him, but you’ve wanted to say so much to him since breaking it off, and you’re still a bit tipsy. “I was losing you. To groupies, to the label, to whatever you had become, and I didn’t think it was fair to fight it. This is all you’ve ever wanted, all we ever talked about when we were together. And you got it! The only thing you ever wanted. And I am beyond proud of you, Eddie. Who was I to pull you away from it? I couldn’t hold you back from this, but I couldn’t live in the background either. I couldn’t make you choose between me and your dream, so I chose for you.” Your voice falters as you explain, eyes threatening to spill the tears they harbor. “You deserve everything you ever want, Ed. I truly believe that.” You don’t tell him you still wish he wanted you.
Eddie is less than graceful in his response. “I would’ve chosen you. Over and over again, Y/n. I wish I hadn’t made you feel like you were my backup, my plan B. I lost sight of us, I know that now.” You sigh, your heart breaking as he speaks. Years ago, it’s all you wanted to hear. But it’s too little, too late now. “It got to my head, having you and getting signed. I felt like I could have it all. It got overwhelming, and I didn’t realize what I was doing to you. You were right to leave, and I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it out. I blamed you for my misery when I caused all of it myself.”
You get up from the bed, and approach Eddie, kneeling beside the chair so he’s forced to look at you. “I appreciate the apology, Ed. I know you mean it. But I needed to leave for my own sake, too. I couldn’t keep competing with you, with all of the attention you were getting. I needed to focus on my own dreams, and I couldn’t convince you to root for me the way I had for you. Now that I’m here, I’m glad it happened this way. I wouldn’t have gotten here any other way.” You rest your hand on his knee, and you feel a drop fall from his cheek onto your finger. “You’ll always be special to me. I need you to know that.”
Eddie nods, sniffling. You stand up and offer him your hand. He takes it hesitantly, and you feel the familiarity of his calloused fingers entwined with yours. You can’t bring yourself to let go as he gets to his feet, missing the way his skin feels on yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” You lead him out of your room and down the hall. “You got your key?”
Eddie clumsily pats his many pockets before finding his key card in his vest. He swipes it, and you pull him into the messy room, the bed unmade, empty beer bottles lining the nightstand and entertainment center. Eddie collapses onto the bed, and you get to work yanking his shoes off the way you used to after a long night out. He’s still in his jeans, but you don’t make a move to take them off. He’s not yours to take care of anymore, and if he wakes up uncomfortable, it’s not your problem. “Okay. Goodnight, Eddie.” You’re about to leave when you hear him whisper something. “What was that?” You don’t want to believe what you think you heard, but he says it again, clearer this time. “I’d still choose you.” You press your lips together, stifling your sobs as you close the door behind you. You can’t bring yourself to believe him.
—
chapter viii
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heres my HMS headcanons because i am bored
starting off with . sexualities
heart: asexual, panromantic
soul: pansexual
mind: aroace [this is partially because i am projecting]
i don't always follow the heart with wings headcanon / design but i like to follow it occasionally just bc i think it's neat. now i like to think he uses them to help him navigate, sort of like a cat's whiskers or a cane. since he's like wearing a blindfold i imagine that when he's thrown off or disoriented he fluffs up his wings to at least get some sense of direction to ground himself
one of my favorite headcanons i have is that mind has a little digital voice recorder that he likes to log every day in, like a diary. after careful consideration i have decided it's a Diasonic DDR-3000 Handheld Digital Voice Recorder [yes i copy and pasted that]. it's one of his favorite items and he uses it to keep just one constant thing going, since i imagine he relies on schedules [logic!! whoa] and probably has a touch of the 'tism. in case you are wondering this is inspired by steven universe and no i'm not apologizing
i also headcanon heart to not be completely blind. rather, i imagine him to just be really sensitive to light. so, his blindfold is kind of see through, but not totally. just enough to make it so that he's not blinded [haha] by light all the time. this is partially based on THA and light, but also just one i kinda settled on.
i actually don't have many headcanons for soul. he's a rather silly guy and i usually stick to canon. but i do headcanon him to just randomly start talking to us, the viewers, out of no where. mind and heart just think he's insane
headcanon for all of them including whole . in the system hc/au, heart and mind almost never front . its always either whole or soul. their friends don't know they're a system and just kinda assume whenever soul is front that whole is just feeling a bit silly. but when heart or mind do end up fronting their friends are like "dude what Happened to you" HDJSNF like . mind fronts and he's just being mind and whole's friends are staring at him like 😦. soul, heart and whole are probably worried about telling their friends that they're a system but mind doesn't care and tells them anyways . they end up being chill about it
the senses of the main 5 that mind wouldn't mind [haha] losing are taste and touch. but he would hate to lose smell, eyesight, or hearing, which is why he doesn't understand how heart is so chill wearing a blindfold all the time.
kind of expanding on that one above, but not directly related to it, mind argues that he'd prefer to keep smell to help with stuff like fires, gas leaks, spoiled food, etc. but he doesn't say it's mainly because he really likes candles. he loves candles and their different scents. he probably lights up a ton around him and soul walks in to see him like sitting in a circle and assumes he's trying to like summon the fucking devil or something and just leaves
mind is allergic to cats. heart tried to bring one in once and mind died [joke he just had an allergic reaction] so that's when soul jumped at the opportunity to be like "why not get a chicken instead"
mind always insists on eating the healthy and "logical" foods . but sometimes soul will find mind at 3 am treating himself to a singular cookie and then hurriedly trying to hide it. heart and soul wouldn't tease him about it if he didn't try to keep it a secret.
sorry [not] there's so many mind headcanons but that is because i am a mind fan . shit i forogt???? help???? ill remember it one day. i'll just give a different one . mind loves weighted blankets
one day i'll remember that one
soul and heart love to experiment with outfits . heart loves dresses they're fun ! every once in a while when he's positive he's alone, mind will try on a dress or a tux . he secretly has fun. heart and soul have not found out yet
#chonny jash#chonnys charming chaos compendium#cj mind#cj heart#cj soul#cj whole#cj headcanons#headcanons
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i'm back w more au stuff!! this time, centering around a pop duo. to tell you the truth, i kind of built this au around them.
anyway, if you have any questions about the au or anything.. i'm always happy to answer. <3 now... hcs under the cut!
♡ trish is the only daughter of model donatella una and fashion photographer aceto doppio. doppio signs his work as 'solido naso' so he can keep his private life separate from his professional life. diavolo is trish's uncle, who often spoils her when he sees her.
♡ growing up, trish had a rather normal life. donatella and doppio wanted to make sure that trish didn't have to deal with invasive questions and paparazzi hounding her, but she's always been interested in the glitz and glamour of her parents' work. instead of modeling, she wanted to write music and eventually become a popstar. she started with a small youtube channel doing covers, and eventually started doing her own original songs.
♡ lucy is the daughter of steven steel, who is a famous director. she's homeschooled so the paparazzi or any fans can't bother her while she's trying to learn, and she's rather well-versed in navigating the industry thanks to her attending many social events with steven, his former protegé funny valentine, and funny's wife scarlet.
♡ when lucy was ten, she decided to become an actress because she enjoyed cameoing in steven's movies growing up. she did commercials and small tv roles until steven eventually put her in his most recent film, a silent way, when she was 13. it was her breakout role. she appeared on a few tv shows after and people still talk about her even now since they're interested in what she'll do next. honestly, she was considering going into music.
♡ shortly before lucy's fifteenth birthday, she met trish through a public performance that trish was putting on. lucy was impressed. when she went home that night, she found trish's youtube channel. with this, her mind was made up. she'd take a break from acting, and focus her energy on singing.
♡ for her birthday present, she had only one wish; to record music, but only if she could record it with trish.
♡ steven gets into contact with trish and her parents, and they schedule a meeting with each other shortly after. trish isn't totally onboard with the idea initially because she always thought of herself as a solo act. after thinking on it for about a day or two, she comes back and agrees to perform alongside lucy.
♡ they call their act diva riot!! their main sound is glam pop. trish writes a vast majority of their songs, but lucy pitches in with her own ideas as well. their debut album is called roll out the red carpet.
♡ to help them gain some publicity, diavolo invites them to take some photos at passione and offers to put them in the latest issue. they accept, of course. the rest is history
okay!! time for some more miscellaneous thoughts about them together and apart!
♡ lucy helps trish navigate her first few celebrity events, especially since trish isn't the type to suck up to other people. plus, lucy's well aware of who to steer clear of lest their reputations get completely tanked or they get dragged into extremely awkward situations.
♡ in turn, trish helps lucy improve her singing voice. there's a noticeable improvement as they record more albums together, and lucy's grateful for the advice.
♡ one day as a show of friendship, lucy dyes a strip of her hair pink to match trish. in response, trish begins to wear yellow star-themed accessories as a reference to lucy.
♡ lucy idolizes the joestars to an extent, so she gravitates towards star-themed memorabilia. she cameoed in a movie starring johnny once as a kid, and they developed a close friendship with each other since she always hung around set. she hasn't been able to see much of him after his accident.
♡ even before she became famous, trish often hung around passione's studio for fun when her parents were busy. she's friends with bucciarati and the models that picked him to be their agent (abbacchio, mista, narancia, and fugo), but she's still getting used to giorno's presence because he's new.
♡ eventually, lucy begins to hang around passione as well. trish invited her, and she sticks around for someone else as well. who that is a secret between herself and that person.
♡ one time for a concert, trish convinced lucy to perform with actual animals. diavolo secretly paid for it. trish came in on a lioness, while lucy had a snake draped across her shoulders. (britney spears reference? you already know.)
♡ donatello and aceto eventually come to see lucy as a part of the family, while steven does the same for trish. lucy and trish call each other the sisters they never had.
if i had to describe diva riot's overall aesthetic, i'd say it's very bratz inspired. i literally looked up lines i could use for inspo 😭 anyway!! when they're performing, trish's main color is pink while lucy's is orange.
#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jjba#jojo headcanons#jjba au#jojo au#trish una#lucy steel#celebrity au
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