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radiosteve · 11 months ago

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Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F.

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut.

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics.

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes.

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him.

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit.

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts.

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room.

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child.

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him.

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus.

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door.

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours.

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did.

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder.

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours.

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind.

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up.

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened.

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself.

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun.

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter.

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him.

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

“Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust.

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant.

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said.

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around.

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been.

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now.

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car.

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you.

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him.

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below.

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence.

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer.

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence.

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand.

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

787 notes · View notes

worseforwords · 9 months ago

Text

The Arrangement

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter I of Marshmallow

“Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” your mom’s voice cackled through the phone. “Take your phone off your ear, mum, you’ve facetimed me,” you chuckled. “Oh, right. Hi, darling, lovely to SEE you,” she giggled at her own joke. “How are you, love? And where are you? I don’t recognise that wall behind you,” she inquired. “I’m in the changing room at Arsenal, you know, my job.” “Right, ‘course. Everything alright? How’s your g-” “Yeah, everything’s good,” you quickly interrupted her, hoping no one in the changing room caught on to what she was about to say. “I have to head to training soon, mum. Did you want anything from me?” “Right, busy woman, no time for chit-chat with her mum. Your dad and I were just wondering if we could come visit you anytime soon. We haven’t seen you since Christmas, and we would both really love to meet your girlfriend!” She said that last part with a bit too much excitement, and you were sure you saw some heads snap your way from the corner of your eye. “Ehh, yeah, I’m just a little busy at the moment with football, so I’m not sure when I’ll be free,” you said as you quickly turned down the volume of your phone. “I know, darling, but I noticed there’s no match scheduled the weekend after the next one, so you’ll be free then, right?” Another disadvantage of being a professional athlete: usually having a very public schedule. “Right, yeah, I think so. I’ll call you after training, mum.”

You hung up after both of you exchanged goodbyes and you immediately noticed a few eyes on you. One pair belonged to a smirking Katie, who quickly plumped herself down next to you. “What was that I heard? Does somebody have a new girlfriend?” “What the hell, why haven’t I heard about this?” Leah joined in. “Lotte, did you know?” Your roommate Lotte shook her head. “Haven’t seen or heard anyone at our house.” “How is that even possible?” Victoria wondered out loud. “Is it a long-distance thing?” Caitlin joined in on the conversation. By this point, you were surrounded by your teammates, gazing at you, awaiting answers, and your head was spinning, trying to come up with anything to explain your situation.

Ultimately you decided on just telling them the truth, knowing full well a lie wasn’t getting you out of this situation. “There is no girlfriend,” you said quietly. Clearly, your answer wasn’t satisfactory as everyone kept staring at you frantically. “My parents kept asking me when I would finally bring someone home because my brother and sister are both happily married or engaged homeowners starting their own families. They keep telling me not to wait until it’s too late. At Christmas, when they started again, I finally snapped. I lied and told them I have a girlfriend.” You took a quick breath before you continued. “Only it backfired because now they won’t stop asking me about her, and apparently, I have to find a girlfriend within the next week or so.” You let your head fall into your hands dramatically. There was a short silence as everyone around you processed what you had just told them. Then a loud shriek as Katie burst out laughing. “Oh boy, you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, mate!” she shouted. “Good luck with that.”

The next few minutes were filled with everyone either light-heartedly teasing your situation or attempting to play matchmaker and find you a girlfriend, which you knew was futile with only 10 days to go. This was precisely why you avoided going on dates. All the unwarranted attention and people meddling in your life, you didn't need it. You’d rather concentrate on the love of your life that you did have some control over: football. Fortunately, Kim took her captaincy very seriously and summoned everyone out of the changing room for training to begin, but not before sending you a sympathetic smile as you mouthed a quick “thank you” to her.

Training went by swiftly, and afterward, some of the girls gathered at Beth and Viv’s for dinner. You sat on the sofa with Laura and Viv as Alessia was directing Vic in the kitchen, and Beth was setting the table. “So, Y/N, are you going to tell your parents the truth about your girlfriend... or lack thereof?” Laura asked. “I don’t know; it’ll be so embarrassing. And I definitely won’t be able to hold off on them trying to set me up with their neighbour’s son, who is studying to be a doctor, or my mum’s colleague’s daughter who’s in law school.” You imitated your mom as you talked about the people your parent wanted to set you up with before dramatically making a barf gesture. “But what else can you do?” Viv asked. “Let’s see... Fake my own death and start a new life elsewhere? Start studying robotics and learn to design my own robot girlfriend? Pretend I’ve got short-term memory loss and have forgotten who my own girlfriend is?”

“Okay, I need to join in on this, scoot,” Beth waved her hands, gesturing for you to move over. “The fact that you thought of building a robot girlfriend before considering finding an actual girlfriend is insane,” she said, almost like she was scolding you. “I get it,” mumbled Viv as Beth immediately sent her a stern glare to which she responded with by blowing her a quick kiss. “I don’t want a relationship right now. Besides, 10 days is way too little time to find someone,” you said, ignoring their antics. “Fine, have it your way, go with the robot. Vic can help you; she’s studied maths,” she joked as she got up again. “Excuse me,” Vic got involved from the kitchen. “Which of my subjects do you think is about robot girlfriends?” She giggled. “I say go with the Dory thing.”

“Vic, stir this sauce for a bit, please,” Alessia spoke sternly as she turned towards all of you. “Okay, I can’t believe no one has thought of this, but the solution is very simple. You just find someone who can pretend to be your girlfriend for the weekend your parents visit,” she explained as all of you listened. “Yes! Less, that’s a perfect plan,” Beth exclaimed. “But who should it be? Maybe you can hire an actor!” She added as you seriously considered this option for a moment. “Hm, I don’t know, seems kind of risky if they don’t really know me,” you said.

“Yeah, you should probably pick a friend, someone you’ve known for a while and who knows what you’re up to these days,” Laura stated. “Sooo, maybe a teammate?” Vic suggested. “Yes!” Beth shouted again. “A teammate. But who? Obviously not someone who is openly dating someone else already, so me and Viv are out,” she then stated more calmly. “Laura and I can’t make it either, we’re going out with the Aussies, remember?” Vic asked as Laura nodded.

A silence fell as everyone sort of stared at Alessia, who was too focused on her cooking to notice. “Less?” Beth caught her attention, making her jump a little when she noticed everyone’s hopeful gazes fixated on her. “Are you available?” she asked. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll do it.” Alessia sent you a quick smile before continuing to make dinner. “That settles it then,” Beth said, giving you no say in the matter whatsoever. If you were being honest, though, you were just glad you had found somewhat of a solution to your problem. Besides, you didn’t know Alessia that well, the two of you usually being in different friend groups within the team and you had been intrigued to get to know her better for a while now.

The next few days in training everyone was mostly focussed on the game ahead. Some new pieces of gossip flooded the changing room and much to your delight, you and your love life were left unspoken of. It almost seemed a bit too good to be true, and you were now starting to worry it had all been a joke that you took too seriously. After all, the whole plan was a bit insane, definitely unlike anything you had ever done before. Were you just too desperate to notice that it was all banter?

"Everything alright, Y/N?” Alessia's voice jolted you from your mental spirals. “You seem a bit distracted.” “Yeah, all good. My mind just wandered for a second.” You feigned a smile. “Okay.” She returned the smile. “Hey, Alessia,” you began before she could exit the changing room. “Can I talk to you for a second?” “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” She settled herself beside you.

“So, you know about our crazy fake girlfriend plan, and—” “Correction, it’s my crazy plan, not ‘our’. My idea.” She interjected with a satisfied expression. “Right, your crazy plan. Anyhow, I realise you were put on the spot when Beth asked if you were available. I just wanted to say you don’t have to do it; I can find someone else,” you spoke hesitantly. “Oh no, I want to do it. Unless you’d prefer someone else, of course.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly clarified. “Alright then, let’s do it.” You offered a shy smile. “Ehh, I hope that’s not how you planned on asking me,” she giggled. You shot her an ‘are you serious?’ look. She responded with what you assumed was her best ‘yes, I’m serious, how dare you even question that’ expression. “Give me one second.”

You darted around the corner, returning a few seconds later with a ring made from bright blue kinesiology tape. “Alessia Russo, will you do me the honour of being my fake girlfriend for the weekend?” you proposed, getting down on one knee before her. “Yes, YES, a thousand times yes!” She dramatically pretended to swoon as you slid the makeshift ring onto her finger.

“Right, so my parents will be visiting from Friday night until Sunday, most likely,” you swiftly changed the subject, attempting to avoid any blush creeping onto your cheeks. “But you don’t have to be there for the entire duration, of course. If you could just pop in for a bit on Saturday, that would be great,” you suggested. “Oh, well I don’t really have any other plans because I assumed this would be an all-weekend kind of thing,” she replied softly, and you felt the warmth in your cheeks intensify. “And Dan is out of town anyway.”

Right, Dan. Her boyfriend. You were aware of him, you had met him – this wasn’t new information. So why did you suddenly feel a knot tightening in your stomach at Alessia mentioning him? “So, what do you want me to be like?” She brought you back from your thoughts. “What do you mean?” You asked. “I mean, how do you want me to be around your parents? We’ve got to impress them, right?” She explained. “Oh, just be yourself. They’ll love you. I know they will,” you assured her as she got up from the bench, ready to go warm up.

“Whatever happened in here?” Leah asked as she entered the changing room, followed by some other girls, right after Alessia had left. “What do you mean?” You inquired. “Well, Less just almost walked into me; she was all flustered and smiley, and now here you are, looking all flustered and upset,” she explained. “Nothing happened. I’m not upset. Just a bit nervous about my parents visiting and everything,” you lied. Either Leah didn’t notice or she decided to let you off the hook, but either way, she didn’t ask any further questions about it. As one of your best friends, Leah knew you very well, and she also knew that questioning you in a room full of people was the worst thing she could do to you.

“So is Less still coming?” Beth inquired. “Yes,” you mumbled, not wanting everyone to get involved again, but with no success. “Less?” Katie jumped in. “Why would she come?” Luckily, Beth came to your aid and explained the whole situation to everyone there so you didn’t have to.

“That’s a great plan,” Katie finally spoke. “But how will we make it believable?” “I’m sorry, we?” You tried to interrupt. “We should quiz them!” Beth suggested loudly, ignoring you entirely. “What is happening?” You mumbled to Leah who just laughed at you in response. “Yes! Lotte, can you come up with some questions about Less, and Leah, you can do the same for Y/N.”

Somehow, everyone had agreed on the quiz idea, and once again, you had no say in it. On Wednesday night, a few of the girls gathered at Lotte and your place to prepare you and Alessia for the weekend. The anticipation in the air was as thick as the excitement before a big match. Tables were set up, and a stack of papers with questions lay in the centre. Lotte, with her mischievous smile, and Leah, ever ready for a good laugh, were the architects of this grand interrogation.

You, Alessia, and the rest of the team settled in around the living room. The atmosphere was a mix of nerves and amusement, everyone eager to see how this plan would unfold. Beth, who put on an oversized blazer and a bright red Arsenal bowtie for the occasion, took charge, announcing the rules with a theatrical flourish.

“Alright, everyone! Welcome to the Ultimate Fake Girlfriend Quiz Night!” She exclaimed, earning a round of laughter. “We’ve got questions about Y/N for Alessia and questions about Alessia for Y/N. Let’s see how well our fake couple knows each other.” The room erupted into cheers. Lotte, holding a list of questions about Alessia, winked at you. Leah, armed with questions about you, looked equally mischievous.

The first round began, and Leah fired off questions about you. Alessia, to everyone’s surprise, answered with remarkable accuracy. “Alright, Alessia,” Leah said with a smirk, “what’s Y/N’s guilty pleasure snack?”

Alessia pondered for a moment, a playful glint in her eyes. “Chocolate-covered pretzels. She hides them in the back of a cabinet, but I always find them.” Laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Alessia, impressed and slightly amused that she had picked up on your secret indulgence. Apparently her close friendship with your roommate had given her quite an advantage.

Lotte, taking her turn, quizzed you about Alessia’s life. “What’s Alessia’s weirdest talent?” she asked with a sly grin. You thought for a moment, realising Alessia had shared a few quirky skills in the changing room. “She can do this weird thing with her tongue, like roll it into a clover shape. It’s bizarrely impressive.”

Alessia blushed, seemingly surprised that you remembered such a minor detail. The room erupted into cheers again. As the quiz progressed, Alessia consistently demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of your habits and likes. It seemed like she had been paying much more attention than you thought.

The highlight came when Leah, with a devious smile, presented the final question: “What’s Y/N’s weirdest habit in the morning?” Alessia, grinning confidently, answered, “She talks to herself in the mirror while doing her hair. Full-on conversations with her own reflection.” Your face turned crimson, and a chorus of laughter echoed through the room. You shot Alessia a playful glare.

The quiz ended and the consensus was clear — Alessia and you knew each other surprisingly well, considering this was supposed to be a fake relationship. However, Katie, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist stirring the pot.

She leaned forward with a teasing grin. “So, you two aced the quiz, but do you even have any chemistry?” Her question hung in the air, causing a collective intake of breath from the spectators. Alessia looked at you, a subtle uncertainty in her eyes. “Seriously, guys, you need to up your game. You look way too platonic.”

Your teammates, now fully invested in your fake romance, decided to play relationship coaches. “Alright, stand up,” Beth commanded. “Let’s see how you two handle physical proximity. Hug. Now.” You and Alessia exchanged a glance, both feeling a bit awkward. You hesitated for a moment before tentatively wrapping your arms around each other. The teammates observed and then erupted into a chorus of opinions.

“Too stiff!”

“More like you mean it!”

“Look into each other’s eyes, not the ceiling!”

You and Alessia shared an amused yet bewildered look. The teammates continued their analysis, discussing everything from hand-holding techniques to the positioning of your bodies. It was like a crash course in relationship theatrics. “Alright, sit down,” Beth commanded again. “You two are sitting too far apart. Scoot closer.”

As you and Alessia moved to sit side by side, Steph suggested, “Try a more casual touch. Like, Y/N, put your hand on Alessia’s leg.” Panic flashed across your face, but you complied, very carefully placing your hand on Alessia’s leg. The room erupted into laughter again.

“Okay, she said casual, Y/N. She’s not made of thin glass now is she?” Beth joked, and Alessia chuckled as you adjusted your grip, secretly wanting to disappear into the couch. The teammates continued to give advice, critiquing every move and gesture. Amidst the laughter and chaos, Laura suggested, “You guys should try the 36 Questions. You know, that study that makes people fall in love?”

That mention drew curious looks from you and Alessia. Beth explained, “People say you’ll fall in love if you answer them honestly with someone. It could help you two look more... well, in love.” The idea was met with a mix of enthusiasm and skepticism. “Homework for our fake couple!” Beth declared, and everyone laughed.

As the evening wound down, the teammates left your place. Everyone but Alessia, who offered to help you clean the place up. Lotte went to bed, leaving you and your now approved ‘fake girlfriend’ with a newfound list of relationship do’s and don’ts, along with the prospect of a homework assignment that promised to make your fake relationship more convincing.

“So… I guess we’ve got some homework to do,” you said, feeling very awkward all of a sudden now that it was just you two. You then realised you had never really hung out together without at least one other person being there. “Yeah, 36 questions,” she started as she grabbed her phone. “Do you believe in this?”

“No of course not,” you said, ever the sceptic. “But I do believe Katie is gonna murder us if we don’t do our homework. Both of you exchanged glances like, ‘Are we really doing this?’ and rolled your eyes in silent agreement that this was a bit of a silly experiment.

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She read the first question from her phone, immediately gazing at the ceiling as if in thought about her answer. “I bet yours would be Michael Jordan,” you said. “Hey, I’m asking you about your answer not mine!” She giggled as she elbowed your shoulder.

“Fine, let me think. Do they have to be alive?” You wondered. “I mean I guess it says ‘anyone’, so if you want to have dinner with a corpse, by all means,” she chuckled. “No, not like that, ew,” you now elbowed her. “I just mean I would love to have dinner with my grandma. She’s sacrificed so much for our family, but I only ever knew her as a child so I’ve never been able to thank her for it.” Still in thought you stared at your feet for a bit until you realised it had been quiet for a while in your living room.

“Sorry,” you said, quickly looking up and finding Alessia’s eyes already on you with a look you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll just go with Beyoncé, she’d be a cool dinner guest,” you quickly changed your answer. “No, no, that was really sweet. I bet your grandma would love to have dinner with you too. And I’m sure she knew you’d be grateful,” she said softly, her eyes remaining on yours. “Yeah well, you just called her a corpse so that idea is kind of ruined for me now,” you teased. “No I didn’t!” She protested.

The first couple of questions were mostly light and you chuckled at each other’s silly answers. However, as you continued down the list, the questions became increasingly deep and personal and as eye-rolls turned into thoughtful pondering, you both found yourselves sharing way more than you had expected.

Alessia’s responses were open and honest as she shared stories about her childhood dreams, the hurdles in her football journey, and her aspirations beyond the pitch. One question, in particular, struck a chord: “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?” Alessia’s response was heartfelt. “I’d want to be fearless. Not just on the field, but in life. There are times when I feel held back by my own doubts and fears. I’d love to face everything without that weight.”

Her openness made it easy for you to share your own dreams and fears. The conversation flowed easily, moving through topics of love, aspirations, and personal histories. It felt like something shifted between the two of you. Alessia was no longer just a teammate or a fake girlfriend to you. She was someone you could talk to, someone you felt a genuine connection with and you had a newfound appreciation for her.

By the time you had finished the first set of questions you finally looked at the time. “Oh my god, Alessia, it’s 2 am!” You both jumped up. Two hours had passed since everyone had left and you had an early training the next morning. “Really? How did that happen. I should run then,” she said.

“Hey, do you want to stay over?” You asked as you immediately noticed her questioning expression. “In the guest room I mean. Just cause we have an early training tomorrow and I don’t want you to be exhausted.” You quickly added. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” She smiled shyly at you. “Okay, be right back.” You stated as you sprinted towards your bedroom.

You returned a few minutes later with a bunch of stuff in your arms. “Here’s an unused toothbrush, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and I didn’t know what you like to sleep in so here’s some shorts, joggers, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Wear whatever you want.” You rambled nervously as she chuckled. “Thank you Y/N. Good night.”

The next morning, your alarm blared, pulling you from the depths of sleep. Groggily, you stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Training awaited, and as you yawned your way through the morning routine, the events of the previous night flashed in your mind. You couldn’t help but glance at Alessia, who was already up, seemingly more awake than you were. She flashed you a tired yet friendly smile. “Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Morning,” you replied, trying to shake off the remnants of your dreams. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar situation you found yourselves in.

As you headed to training together, you couldn’t ignore the amused glances from your teammates. Alessia, clad in your training gear because she hadn’t brought her own, was the target of playful banter. “Nice walk of shame, Alessia!” Katie teased, eliciting laughter from others. “You two look tired, looks like our chemistry experiments worked a little too wel!” Quipped Beth, pointing out the bags under both your eyes.

Training progressed as usual, but not without the occasional teasing from one of your teammates. You knew none of them really meant anything by it though. Everyone knew it was just a bit and that the two of you were no more than friends. And so did you, cause that was the deal, right?

“You know,” Alessia began when the two of you were alone for a second after Katie asked her when you were planning your next sleepover, “despite all the teasing and the fake girlfriend stuff, I’m kind of enjoying getting to know you better.” You felt your cheeks starting to flush as you took in her genuine smile. “Yeah, me too. It’s strange how these things work out.” You tried your best to reciprocate her smile without blushing too hard. What on earth was happening to you?

The day went by swiftly as the prospect of having Alessia around as your fake girlfriend all weekend had you slowly spiral into a nervous wreck. When Friday afternoon finally arrived, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror as you went over the many things that could go wrong. What if your parents didn’t believe it? What if they did? What would that even mean? What if she never even showed up cause who were you to think she would do something like that for you? What if her boyfriend got mad? What if she suddenly started liking you, for real? What if she didn’t?

You splashed water in your face, desperately trying to stop your mind from spiralling, and more specifically to erase those last thoughts. Where was your mind coming up with all this none-sense? Was there something more to this? Another splash. No. None-sense. You groaned as you watched drops of water trickle down your face.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” You heard Lotte’s voice call out from the other side of the locked bathroom door. “Less is here.” You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself. “Be right there!”

“You’re early,” is the first thing you said when you came out of the bathroom after quickly drying yourself off and fixing your hair. “Nice to see you too.” A kindly smiling Alessia appeared once you opened the door. “Thought I’d help you prepare before your parents show up. Hey, are you okay?” She gazed at you as if she was examining your current state. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, hi, thank you for being here.” You opened up your arms as an invitation for a hug which she accepted immediately.

“Allright, lovebirds, I’m out.” Lotte said, suitcase in hand as she hugged you both goodbye, leaving for a little romantic getaway with her boyfriend. “Have fun!” You both shouted at the same time as she closed the door behind herself.

You spent the next hour or so getting the house ready for your parent’s arrival and providing Alessia with all the necessary information on your family, as if you were doing a last minute study session for an exam.

Then, a knock on the door echoed through the house, signalling the arrival of your parents. A surge of nerves shot through you as you exchanged a quick glance with Alessia. You both took a deep breath, steeling yourselves for the upcoming performance. “Ready?” Alessia whispered, and you nodded, though your heart was doing a drumroll in your chest.

-> Chapter II

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc

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comicaurora · 10 months ago

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Why do you never want to talk about aurora in videos and streams, even if requested? Do you just feel disingenuous, or is it something else?

Because self-promotion makes me uncomfortable, I don't want to obnoxiously self-aggrandize, and part of me still feels like the worst crime I can commit is inflicting myself and my work on other people. I've been smacking that part down over the years, but it's not wholly gone just yet.

Funny story about that. I was just a panelist at the sci fi fandom convention Capricon this weekend, and I was on two panels about comics with Gene Ha, a comic writer and illustrator who's been in the superhero comic business since 1993. Most recently he worked on Wonder Woman Historia, a "what the amazons were up to pre-Wonder-Woman" comic volume. He had a sketchpad with him and spent his time on the panels when he wasn't talking drawing portraits of random audience members and then slipping away from the table to hand them to them. Absolutely lovely man.

When we were making small talk before the panel, he leaned over and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "By the way, I checked out your webcomic this morning, and it's really good!"

He then proceeded to relentlessly compliment my grasp of paneling, flow, and readability, which was the most unexpected and unbelievably validating thing I'd ever experienced.

Then, when we were recommending comics at the end of the first panel, he drew up a little sign and propped it next to his nameplate - "comicaurora . com by Red!" - and brought it to the second panel we were on to reiterate the point. And the whole time I was comedically cringing into a ball, I was like "maybe… I don't need to be cringing into a ball about this……?"

It was very, very kind, and though I have difficulty taking compliments because it makes the imposter syndrome goblin that lives in my brain cackle madly on its throne of skull, I 100% believed his sincerity. A legitimate professional and pillar of the industry - a neutral party who is not already a fan of me - says I know what I'm doing.

Wild!

#asks #behind the curtain

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opiopal · 7 days ago

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An MC who acts slightly, but noticeably different with each person or group around them.

For example, uhh maybe they act much more mature and down to earth with people like barbatos, Lucifer, and Diavolo. But when with mammon, or during a scheme with almost any of the other brothers they’ll match the amount of energy they have. Or while with Levi, they’ll be much more uhh in a rambling sorta mood.

They’ll be goofing off with some of the brothers, like turn around, talk incredibly formally formally to Lucifer and then get back to goofing off😭

(If you couldn’t tell I’m the same guy who asked for competitive MC I’m so sorry I yap so much in asks!!!)

no worries! I also tend to yap a lot in asks when I suggest stuff to other people! also I LOVEEE this concept(totally not because I also tend to do this by mistake)

but I could imagine mc going from talking all Shakespearean with mephisto or luci to basically verbal texting with Levi and mams,

like it could be so dumb and make for a lot of laughable moments, one second mc is chittering away then all of a sudden luci or s8n asks a question, and they turn and say some stupid crap like “I believe I returned that book yesterday, though I could be incorrect.” And once they leave mc will turn back to the group and be like “anyways chat,” which I could imagine would make the other loose their MINDS immediately, just straight up CACKLING. And mc probably gets annoyed about it a few times, it’s not like they can help it!!

other times I could imagine this coming in handy at like big parties at Dia’s palace, because they could totally walk around with like asmo or mephisto and fake snootiness, or when they hang around dia and suddenly they just match his loud happy vibe immediately, or literally anything. Talking to a noble?? They love mc because they just act so proper and polite!! Smh servants? They are just so sweet and considerate to the work they are doing!

also just mc randomly tone matching could add up with this, like, Luci is scolding them, and mc matches his volume and anger unintentionally and the situation escalates FAST. Same deal with s8n. or having a simple convo with Beel and it’s just two monotones going back and forth. And with mams, he gets excited about something and mc responds in that same tone of voice, so then he gets MORE hyped because his human is ALSO hyped and mc sounds MORE hyped as well and so on.

(also I am so sorry this took so long, I am unfortunately plague ridden and am trying to use this small window of feeling slightly better to push out as many drafts as possible)

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shitpost #obey me imagines

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katyawriteswhump · 1 day ago

Text

driving me crazy (day 1 steddie holiday drabbles/whumpcember)

for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 1 prompt 'snowfall' & @whumpcember day 1 prompt 'broken bones'.

WC: 991 Rating: T CW: prescription drug use, and slight accidental abuse of prescription drugs. Tags: No Upside-Down au, idiots to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, snuggles, minor angst, seasonal rather than xmassy. Summary: When Steve breaks his arm, Dustin persuades Eddie to give him rides to work. Eddie does not expect his icy jock-despising heart to be melted.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Eddie pulled up where Steve waited on the sidewalk, his arm swaddled in a cast and sling. Steve’s face was ashen as the skies, which spewed out the first snowfall of the season.

“Get in,” yelled Eddie, rolling down the van window.

Steve obeyed, bringing with him an icy gust. “Thanks, man. I appreciate—"

Eddie pumped up the stereo to max and accelerated off, wheels skidding in the slush.

He was helping Steve because Dustin had begged. Steve, obviously, couldn’t drive and his work-shifts at the amusement arcade were similar to Eddie’s at a bar farther up the road. Eddie would’ve refused anyhow, till he learned how Steve got hurt—confronting nasty-ass bullies who’d been hassling the out-and-proud ‘freaks’ at the arcade. Son-of-a-bitch was treading on Eddie’s turf!

“He didn’t actually lose the fight,” Dustin said. “He slipped on ice while winding up for the crit-hit.”

“It’s Harrington,” protested Eddie. “Doesn’t he have dickwad friends to drive him?”

Dustin sneered, like this was the dumbest suggestion ever. “None of us are old enough to have a licence.”

Now, Eddie peeped sidelong, wary. Steve boogied along to Aerosmith in an eerie foreshadowing of a ‘dad-dance,’ fingers drumming the dashboard.

“Cool track,” shouted Steve.

Eddie’s teeth grinded. Ugh, Harrington wanted to chat? Eddie turned down the volume eventually, because Steve’s voice was scratchy, and… he wasn’t the worst company. Eddie could genuinely believe this guy—despite his bitchiness about denim vests—might defend geeks from a cohort of a-hole jocks he used to belong to. On the ride home, Eddie found himself glancing in the rearview mirror to watch Steve giggling at his dumbass jokes. In fact, they might’ve crashed into a snowdrift, if Steve hadn’t shouted then one-handedly grabbed the wheel.

They’d been riding together a week, when Dustin called asking Eddie to fetch Steve home early. Eddie now drove Steve regularly, even when their shifts didn’t coincide. Steve tumbled into the van wearing pink earmuffs and cackling his damp-flattened hair off. Apparently, Steve had accidentally taken a double-dose of pain meds, though not enough to be in danger. Eddie didn’t ask where the earmuffs came from, silently conceding they looked cute.

Oh. Fuck.

At Steve’s condo, Eddie helped him up the stairs, studiously avoiding clasping Steve’s butt. Shame he couldn’t ogle that in the rearview mirror. Steve groped Eddie’s ass shamelessly, which was forgiven in the circumstances. He fumbled so long to find his key that Eddie almost jimmied the lock.

“Wanna stay for a beer?” asked Steve, half-tripping through the door.

“I’m driving, dude.” Eddie grabbed and steadied Steve, who slammed him with huge puppy-dog eyes, which Eddie managed to ignore. He was absorbing the mouldy walls, the frost on the fucking inside of Steve’s windows. He’d known Steve had struggled since his parents threw him out. He’d not expected this:

“Jesus, Harrington, no heater?”

“No need. I usually get toasty in my hot-tub.” Steve snorted, rolled his eyes. “It’s broken, mom.”

Eddie almost dragged him home to the trailer. Instead, he failed to fix the heater then figured he’d have that beer. Steve, mega-keen to fetch it, stumbled beside his understocked fridge, then collided face-first into Eddie.

Again.

“Ow!” Steve shifted the pressure off his cast. Eddie grunted at the strain of having dead-weight Steve in his arms. Meanwhile, Steve’s glazed eyes focussed into lasers that seemed to pierce to Eddie’s soul:

“Thanks,” mumbled Steve, as warmth blossomed between their tightly-pressed bodies. “Honestly never thought you’d help after… y’know… High School… stuff. I couldn’t have got by without you and… um… I like you?”

Steve’s teeth pinched his lower lip. Eddie mirrored him, found himself dying to kiss him, while staggering disbelievingly over the words formulating in his head:

Disturbingly, I like you too.

“You feel that?” Steve exploded into fresh giggles, destroying the moment. “Electricity, Munson. Pffffzz!”

Riiiight. He’s high as a Guns ‘n’ Roses gig.

They collapsed onto the fold-out bed, huddling beneath a blanket and arguing over what movies they’d watch right now, if they could afford VHS players. In the morning, Eddie awoke spooning Steve. The frost inside the window was patterned like snowflakes. He smiled into Steve’s hair, despite the fact his nose and toes were kinda numb.

This time, Steve’s groan shattered the moment. “Uuuuugh, sorry ’bout yesterday. Jesus, hope I’ve still got a job. Only got hired for being the sole applicant.”

“You’ll be fine.” Even Keith admitted Steve endured the kids and noise in the arcade valiantly and was injured in the line of duty—as a kickass babysitter and bouncer. Besides, if Steve was fired, Eddie would make Keith pay.

Eddie borrowed tools from Wayne, and they fixed the heater together. Things remained awkward-ish for a day or so, before normal car-share buddying resumed. They exchanged some loaded glances, but Harrington was still Harrington. If he was into Eddie, he’d make his move, give some kinda sign.

Then Dustin dropped his latest bombshell. “It’s cool you’re still giving Steve a ride. I mean, since he’s had his cast removed.”

Huh?

Next day, Eddie asked, casually, while driving, “You still need that sling, Steve?”

Steve blushed cherry-red and came clean. He’d sold his car last week, because he was behind on rent. He’d pay Eddie for gas and more, if Eddie could keep driving him.

“I guess I lied, sorry, though my arm’s still pretty sore. It’s just… I…” Eddie drew up outside Steve’s. Steve sighed hard, turning away. “I really do like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” Eddie reached to coax Steve back around, two fingers on Steve’s reddened cheek. Their clouded breaths mingled, and Eddie grinned like an idiot. “When you were high… Yeah, I felt that dumb crackle, too.”

The brush of their lips felt more like lightning. They made out for so long that snow grounded the van, forcing Eddie to stay the night.

And every night, till they moved somewhere better together, with a decent heater and endless shared warmth and snuggles.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

@wheneverfeasible 💚 My ST fic on AO3

#steddie #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie holiday drabbles #whumpcember24 #whumpcember24 day1 #steve harrington whump #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fanfic #snowfall #steve x eddie #steddie fluff

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hey-august · 4 months ago

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Is this what you wanted? | Buggy x afab!Reader

WC: 3k Warnings: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x afab!reader, friends to something, profanity, mentions of alcohol, fingering - reader receiving, vaginal sex, creampie, pls practice safe sex, angst no comfort A/N: Um...I'm sorry. I'm happy with this story, but also so very sorry. Happy Angst August!

Teaser: Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain.

You both knew what this was. A handful of sunny afternoons spent with sandy feet and ice cold beer bottles dripping with condensation. Nights in seedy bars - fingertips salty from snacking on peanuts and empty shells found in your pockets the next morning. An hour or two grabbing a bite to eat, sharing a plate of puffed pastries stuffed with spiced meat, or seeing who can eat a bucket of fried spiraled potatoes the fastest. (Buggy got the furthest before he bit his tongue, shrieked at the horrifically incorrect crunch, and you dropped your food while cackling.)

This was fun and that’s all it was.

Just moments of levity whenever time found you two together. There was nothing more behind the way you hugged Buggy each time you saw him. Or how you’d compliment his new looks and applaud the goofy poses he’d strike. Nothing behind the way his hand would rest on your shoulder or back when you two walked through crowds. Or when you’d grab his sleeve and lead the way. When his hand would rest on your knee. Nothing in the way his eyes held the stars sparkling on the water. Or your laughter in the wind when his ship is at sea.

Sure, there was the one night you two kissed. But it didn’t mean anything. It was raining. There was lightening. And thunder. You two were stuck outside, huddled under Buggy’s heavy coat, which was only getting heavier with each raindrop that it soaked up. The flashes of light were bright. Blinding. And the thunder was loud. And his lips were close.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of them as he talked. The red paint was faded from a night of drinking. Buggy would lick his lips while talking. Drops of rain clung to the stubble on his jaw. His adam’s apple bobbed. And his lips…they were soft and warm against yours. The next flash of lightening shone brightly in his eyes before he returned the kiss. In the rain, while hiding under a coat. And that’s where the moment ended.

They were rare, but the times you spent on Buggy’s ship were some of your favorites. He was loved by his crew and they embraced you by extension. Cheery greetings and invites to have a drink were plentiful. They pulled you into their tricks and dances, told you stories and listened to yours, asked for your help and shared advice. The ship was noisy, it smelled, there was chaos and mess, and it suited your Buggy perfectly.

The moon watched you and the captain in his quarters. Laughing and drinking, like usual. The pirate was showing you a map, a finger rasping as it followed the course set for tomorrow morning. He tapped a spot excitedly, telling you about all the treasures that would belong to him. How the expedition will make him and his crew famous. That you were lucky to know the Great Captain Buggy and the fearsome Buggy Pirates before it all changed. And even luckier, he would bring you back something special.

His volume rose and dropped, uncontrollable with the enthusiasm bubbling through him. The passion and fervor Buggy emanated was captivating. In this moment, he was walking among the stars. And in this moment, you wanted to walk with him.

“I could go with you.”

Buggy paused, then let out a deep belly laugh. He tapped the map again and explained how dangerous the trip would be. His crew was trained and ready and even then, some of them might not make it back. Meanwhile, you could count the number of islands and towns you’ve visited on one hand. On the map, the circumference of your travels was smaller than the bottom of the bottle you two had been sharing.

“Don’t make jokes like that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye and leaving behind a smudge of eyeliner.

“I’m serious. I want to go with you.” You stared at Buggy, just waiting for him to laugh that beautifully irritating laugh again.

But he didn’t. The lighthearted joy slid away while the smile stayed. The twinkle in his eyes flickered, a weak candle in the darkness overtaking his expression.

“You don’t know what you want.” Buggy spoke slowly, as if you misunderstood yourself. As if he knew better.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Don’t fucking patronize me,” you stormed over to Buggy and grabbed the lapel of his coat, ignoring the giggle that escaped his mouth. “I know what I want.”

“Then tell me.” His voice was low. Teasing. Burrowing into your head.

You stared deep in the pirates eyes, ready to repeat yourself.

“I want…” The words drifted off as nimble shadows pulled at the truth that both of you knew. The real answer. It wasn’t what you wanted, but who.

Buggy placed a hand around your fist, keeping his coat trapped. He tilted his head and raised his brows, a cue for you to continue talking. Instead, you fell into the depths of his eyes. Like you did that night in the rain. You crashed, lips first.

He let you push his coat off, rolling his shoulders until the heavy garment fell. Buggy matched your movements to stay connected and entangled. When you were busy holding him close - hands on either side of his face, sliding to the back of his head, down to feel his chest - his hands busied themselves with buttons and buckles. Then they busied themselves elsewhere.

Your heartbeat increased dramatically, nearly pushing you out of your mind, when Buggy’s fingers dipped beneath your clothes. Biting his bottom lip, you whined. The moment was becoming too full to hold everything. It threatened to split you - mind and body. To force you to pick between thinking and experiencing.

“Too hard,” Buggy snapped, pulling his tender lip from your teeth.

You mumbled an apology. Maybe. It felt like you said something as you pressed your forehead against his stubbled cheek. Despite starting the journey cautiously, one of Buggy’s fingers slipped and slid between your folds and collided with your clit, sending a jolt through your body. Standing on tiptoes, you let out a pitiful moan and leaned into Buggy more. You swayed together, adrift in the waves the ship sat on.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Mmhmm…”

Buggy’s chin was pressed against your head grinding into the acknowledgment you nodded. His body continued to chase and constrain you. The arm wrapped around your back was less of an embrace for affection, but more for desire. He pulled you off balance just enough for him to hold and maneuver you. With a leg wedged in the area between yours, Buggy ignored the space you tried to create by hovering above the pleasure.

With each caress, every drag of his thick fingers against your bundle of nerves, you floated into the stars. Buggy pressed against you, pushing you higher and higher until there wasn’t enough air to breath. Your head was whirling, following the movement of the constellations and the spin of galaxies. You were far, far away. Clinging to Buggy’s shoulders, you clawed your way back into your body and back into his hold.

“N-no, wait,” you choked out.

Buggy’s jaw moved but the words were lost in your messy hair. Sliding a hand down to his elbow, you pushed the pirate’s arm back. The rest of his body followed, leaving an emptiness between your legs and in your chest.

He held up the two fingers that stole some of your heat and rubbed them together before pulling them apart. A strand of wetness bridged the gap, a sticky thread catching shimmers of light. With a wink, Buggy popped his slick-coated fingers in his mouth and nodded in approval.

The captain’s desk was barely a step behind you. Between the furniture and the captain himself, there was hardly enough space to undress. Sitting on the hard wooden edge, you kicked off your heavy shoes with a thud and shimmied out of your pants. Two hands on your hips stopped your next moves.

Buggy hooked his fingers on either side of your cotton panties and slid them down slowly. So fucking slow. The feeling rippled out across your skin, bringing heat and goosebumps. The little bit clinging slick that found it’s way to your thigh was cold.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Buggy said, his eyes following a tangible path from the thin, soaked fabric and up to your wet cunt.

“Because you keep teasing me, you shit!” Your breathless response couldn’t hold onto the intended sharpness. If anything, you were whining. Begging for more.

The hungriness only increased when Buggy finished undoing his pants and let them fall, along with his underwear. His cock sprang forwards and bobbed, finally freed in your presence for the first time.

Sure, some late night rum-fueled talks carried filthy stories. Raunchy comments about past trysts and boastful claims about sex and alcohol, both of which came with daring remarks about what was under everything. Poking at suspected lies and prodding at the truth beneath all the clothes and bravado. Despite the talks and drunken dances, stupid faces while eating hot dogs and sausages, cream-filled pastries and familiar looking fruit, you weren’t ready.

Buggy’s cock was thick and dripping, the shiny head swollen with the audacity he had for commenting on how wet you were. Despite all the precum smeared on the blunt tip, his stupid striped underwear was probably just as wet as yours. What a fucker. You watched his dick twitch, bouncing erratically under it’s own weight while another pearly bead gathered at the slit.

“Oh just say it! You’re too easy to read.”

Buggy’s taunt was accompanied by bringing a hand to the base of his erection. With his thumb and forefinger nestled more in the blue curls than wrapped around his member, Buggy held himself carefully. Little movements let him squeeze and stroke the bottom of the shaft, working out a groan that was just as light.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. The cool color stood out among the hot flush on his face, which was adorned with beads of sweat already collecting near his hairline.

“You’re fucking dripping,” you said. The smile that grew on your face was met with an equally pleased grin from the clown. “You’re making a mess, Buggs.”

Buggy bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I’m about to.”

Fuck, those three words were more than enough for you to spread your legs like a whore.

The first touch was everything. All the thoughts and feelings that you tried to ignore, that you peered at through closed doors, that brought you onto this damn pirate ship, went up in fire. White hot flames licked at your skin and consumed all the oxygen in the room.

Buggy’s hand trembled, sliding the tip of his dick along your slit and mixing the liquids with a sickeningly wonderful sound. Just as he took his time exposing your wet heat, Buggy took his time lining up. He ignored your little whimpers and gasps, or maybe he couldn’t hear them at all over his own ragged breathing. The way his gaze was hooked on the path his cock was following reminded you of the awe his eyes reflected when looking at a treasure map.

Just then, you wanted nothing more than to lay under all of the attention. It was agonizing. Delicious and painful. Your hands hurt from gripping the edge of the desk. Your ass hurt from hanging off the wood. Your pussy was tender from being swollen and needy for so long. Your chest ached. But all the pleasure meant you didn’t want the pain to stop. Not yet. You wanted the fire to swallow you whole.

Blue eyes found yours through the inferno. They were full of pleading and warning. Buggy’s tip rested against your entrance. Your lips mouthed a silent word, one that both confirmed and begged for what came next. For the connection that your bodies craved.

Buggy swore under his breath as he eased into you. Something about being so wet but incredibly tight. You weren’t sure. All you could think about was the stretch needed to accommodate his girth and the subsequent fullness. You were real fucking full. And you wanted more.

You looked at the man kneading your thighs. His cerulean brows were knitted close and his eyes were shut just as tight. His pink tongue poked out to moisten his lips before retreating so Buggy could clench his jaw. All while his fingers dug into your soft skin, his short painted nails threatening to leave crescent impressions.

“Bug-”

“M’fine,” he croaked. “Gimm- nnh- Give me a m-moment.”

You wanted to. Truly, you wanted to be patient. You had been so patient leading up to this, but as each second stretched in to eternity, you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Move… Please move.”

Buggy finally opened his eyes and were met by yours, which full of tears and longing.

“Fuck,” he whispered desperately as he pulled out. “How does it feel even tighter?”

Although he was talking to himself, your body reacted and Buggy groaned through the contraction.

“Goddamn it, just screw me. Stop fucking around and make a me-”

Your frustrated tirade was cut off by two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. With your mouth pushed open, Buggy pumped moan after moan out of you with the quickening thrust of his hips. It wasn’t fast by any definition, but his nails finally broke the skin on the inside of your left thigh as he tried to hold what he couldn’t.

Spit collected around his fingers. Spit that he smeared on your face when he pulled out his hand and squeezed your chin.

Buggy leaned in.

“Is this what you want?” Each measured word was delivered when his cock was buried deep.

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and disappeared when it’s fall brought the drop to Buggy’s wet hold.

You nodded. And again, you crashed lips first. Buggy drank your bitter lie, which was sweetened by every sinful sound he fucked from you. In return, you took his heat, his lust, his passion - anything and everything he gave you in this moment. You held it all close, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“M-make a mess for me, okay? Make a mess on my cock,” Buggy panted.

You gave a half nod, stopping to press your forehead against his. Your nose against his. Buggy didn’t pull back, he stayed as you curled tightly and shook. He listened to your shallow breaths and the wet slap of his skin against yours. He bullied his cock into you repeatedly, pushing your limit until it became a new normal. Until your pussy welcomed him deep. Until you dissolved into the flames of ecstasy.

The sounds you made cracked with each throb of Buggy’s impending release. Your walls contracted and fluttered uselessly around the intrusion. The mindless responses were answered in kind by the pirate’s climax.

Buggy’s cock pulsed as it flooded your insides, his hot cum flooding what little area he didn’t already occupy before finding it’s way to the exit. With each slowing thrust, thick creamy drops fell to the floor, and seeped into the cracked wood.

With that, the fire was doused. It was gone. The heat was retreating. You clung to the embers, keeping your legs locked at the ankles. Buggy's soft touch drifted over angry red slivers on your leg before hooking under your knee and easing your tired legs further apart.

Buggy hissed when he pulled back and vacated your body entirely. The mess was undeniable. Cum and pussy juice coated his dick, collecting in the blue curls at the base. Some had found its way down his thigh, slicking down the sparse hair there. His face paint was streaked, ruined from being rubbed, touched, and sweated away. Strands of hair stuck to his face.

And as for you…well, you were entirely fucked up. Your head and heart were jumbled. Rubble and ash. And the little ember you hoped to protect didn’t survive what came next.

Buggy pulled up his underwear and pants, smothering everything under the layers of fabric.

“You should-” He was still out of breath. “You should probably head out now. You- you got what you wanted, so we’re good now.” His voice shook and he took a deep shuddering inhale.

Buggy put a large hand on your leg, his thumb grazing the marks he gave you. After a pause, he patted your thigh and squeezed one final time before leaving the room. He didn’t look back at the person he left exposed, half undressed and dripping on his own desk before closing the door.

Fuck.

The fire was back, but it hurt this time. Worse. Everything was melting and falling apart. You could hardly see through the haze as you pulled on your clothes. You couldn’t even fasten your pants. Your hands were too numb. Or maybe they were shaking. Holding your clothes together with one hand, you carried your shoes in the other. Fuck staying here any longer to put them on.

The door was in the fucking way. Not just because it was a door but because -fuck it. Just fucking fuck.

Your shoes fell from your hand as you struggled to turn the knob. You finally got the door open but those goddamn fucking shoes were in the way. Bending down, the first sob escaped your lips.

With shoes in hand again, you kicked the door open the rest of the way and padded out of the suffocating room. You kept your eyes trained to the floor as you navigated your way off the ship. While you could avoid seeing any of the sideways glances from the crew, you couldn’t tune out the murmurs and chatters. You did your best to ignore hesitant calls and move away from pitying hands.

You didn’t want their reassurances. You didn’t want their pity. You didn’t want any of it.

Because, according to Buggy, you already got what you wanted.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #buggy angst #hey-august buggy fic

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olderthannetfic · 11 months ago

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Until I read the comments on that one post I had no idea the Bechdel Test was a joke and wasn't supposed to be a serious measuring stick by which you gauged if something was feminist or not. Everywhere I'd ever heard it brought up, it was brought up as a very serious thing, and it was a failure of media if it didn't pass it. I remember the debate about Mako Mori from Pacific Rim and if she was a character you were "allowed" to like as a progressive person despite the fact that Pacific Rim doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, the discourse, the discussion of if the director was sexist for not writing in another woman for her to chat with about non-men related stuff, the camp of people trying to insist that having a fully realized character arc and being as developed as any of the male leads = good writing even if she doesn't talk to another girl...

And I've also had the remark about my writing not passing the test, just not to my face. I searched my fanfic's name once, curious to see if anyone was discussing it outside of tumblr and AO3, and found a Tiktok complaining about it not passing the Bechdel Test. The top comment was "motherfucker YOU don't pass the test but we still watch your ass". I cackled and moved on, but neither the commenter, poster, nor I had any awareness this wasn't Feminist Media Critique 101 theory and was, in fact, a goof.

Right now there's a segment of fandom debating if Blue Eye Samurai is feminist since when Mizu and Akemi talk, they do bring up men, since, y'know. Women aren't considered people with rights in their era in Japan and thus it's something they mention instead of only talking about being cool girlboss badasses who never bring up gender. If something doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, a smug segment of the internet high-fives itself and congratulates one another on being More Feminist Than Thou.

They then get really angry if you disagree, even though by this metric, Sleeping Beauty (the original animated one, where Aurora has only 16 lines of dialogue) is more feminist than Blue Eye Samurai.

*DYING*

Okay, so, nonnie....

Dykes to Watch Out For (1983-2008) was a long-running comic and major piece of lesbian media. I grew up buying compiled volumes at the bookstore. To be honest, that kind of 90s-ish lesbian culture isn't really my scene despite me being bi, but it was very nice to have this slice of life-y somewhat realistic, occasionally somewhat parody, look at the queer communities around me. It's up there with Tales of the City for me in terms of being a window into a particular culture and time and place.

If anybody is interested in queer history, in addition to looking up factual info, I think a read of the complete Dykes would give a really good overview of how people were thinking about things and what issues came up a lot. You'll see things like Barnes & Noble increasingly putting feminist bookstores out of business in the 90s, attitudes towards porn in lesbian circles—all kinds of cultural issues of the day.

I drifted away as I got later in my teens and found more genre fiction I cared about, but at one point, this comic was a very welcome antidote to the glurgey coming out stories that made up a lot of the more realistic media.

Anyway, here's the comic itself, reproduced in its entirety because I think it's important to actually understand the context.

This is from 1985, so the era of Rambo, Conan, and Death Wish, each of which you can see being made fun of here. It's based on Bechdel's friend Liz Wallace's actual rule for seeing movies.

That's it. That's the origin of this whole stupid test.

"LOL, fuck 80s action movies". That's it. That's the joke.

The fact that blockbusters still routinely fail to pass in the 2020s is shameful, but that was never the point of the strip.

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mariamakeslemons · 2 months ago

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Spooktober 2024: Day 6 Ghost

Warning: Non-con voyeurism, non-con touching, breaking and entering

You move around your apartment, ignoring Johnny’s whining and grabby hands. He’s trails behind you as you throw out the paper plate you used for breakfast, pouting at you as you try to make the apartment viewable for the man’s friend.

“Listen, I’m not letting the first impression your Lieutenant have of me is as a trash gremlin,” you remind the man.

“But, booooniiieee,” he whines, trying to grab you, “Ah jes wan’ a kiss.”

“Absolutely not,” you declare, spinning around to point at him with narrowed eyes, “If I let you kiss me, I know exactly how that situation will escalate. We don’t have time for that.”

“LT won’ min’,” Johnny states, causing you to sputter and flail at him.

“Absolutely not!” you repeat with a shriek, feeling your face burn as you scurry into the bathroom. Soap cackles, following behind you as you start the shower.

“Then, how aboot we have a lil’ fun?” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. You scowl and toss a spare towel at his face, ignoring his laughter as you start up a quick shower. You feel filthy after only two hours of sleep due to stress and nerves about work and this visit. The email you got from the Lieutenant only made it worse.

“Yeh sure Ah cannae help yeh in there?” Johnny asks, peeking his head through the curtains.

“Out,” you intone, grabbing your shaving kit and carefully start shaving.

“Och, tha’s right, bonnie,” he purrs, “Git proper smooth fer LT an’ Ah.”

“I will get the salt, you horny fuck,” you threaten, which only makes him pout and finally disappear. You’re pretty sure he’s still watching, but when Johnny turns invisible, he can’t talk to or touch you.

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It had been a week after you moved into your new apartment when weird shit started happening. Nothing malicious, but still, weird shit. Your keys moving around when you know you’ve set them in a certain spot, your water bottle filling and emptying at random times, the music suddenly cutting on or off (luckily at reasonable levels of volume). You went and got one of your friends, one who’s always been sensitive to medium bullshit, to show up.

“Oh, this is rancid,” they said and immediately stepped back out of your apartment, refusing to go back in. They explained that your apartment is haunted by the last owner, a soldier who was killed. The spirit wouldn’t leave, there was still too much energy for them to just disappear into the ether. So, you now have a roommate who doesn’t pay rent. Fucker.

Of course, having grown up watching horror movies way too early, you know the best thing to do is research. Low and behold, you got a lot of information with a few careful questions and searches. One Sargeant John “Soap” MacTavish, also called Johnny due to serving under Captain John Price, was killed on a classified mission, leaving his apartment for sale once everything was processed with the family. It took a little longer, but you managed to email someone who knew the spirit. A Lieutenant Ghost, who was initially dismissive, at least, until Johnny started talking to you and demanded you type something only he’d type with a reference to a mission with a moment that didn’t make it anywhere near the report. Then, the Lieutenant started to ask questions, ones that you could answer and Johnny eagerly answered. From how the two men would converse with only each other, you’re pretty sure they were together together. Which makes Johnny’s obvious flirting and the few lines that the Lieutenant typed specifically for you all the more awkward.

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

“Oh, yeh shoul’ wear that!” Johnny chirps, pointing at a particularly short pair of shorts, “LT’s always liked a pair o’ legs.”

“Absolutely not,” you declare once more, trying to dry your hair before giving up and stomping over to your clothes. Pulling out a sweatshirt and sweatpants, you pull them on before sticking your tongue out at Johnny childishly. The ghost whines as you head into the living room, only to freeze. Standing in the middle of your room is a mammoth of a man, wearing a skull balaclava and dressed all in black. He turns his head, dark eyes taking you in before humming.

“Yer a looker,” he rumbles, taking a step toward you.

“Oi, LT! Boots off! Bonnie thing likes th’ flat clean!” Johnny calls, perching his chin on your shoulder. The man, the Lieutenant you think, looks at your shoulder and his eyes widen a bit.

“Well,” he huffs, “Bett’r listen t’ their rules, yeah?” He bends down and pulls off the giant boots he’s wearing as Johnny shoves you toward the giant. You swallow around a bundle of nerves as Johnny’s hands trace over your sides.

“Um,” you choke out, “How did you get in?” The behemoth pauses and looks at you, pulling out a key from his pocket.

“Was Johnny’s,” is all he says as explanation, before grabbing you by your hips and shoving you onto the couch. He clamors on top of you and pulls his balaclava up enough for you to see his mouth, “Now, yer gunna be good and let us have a little fun.”

“Donnae worry, bonnie,” Johnny coos, his blue eyes glowing ominously above you, “We’ll make sure yer havin’ a good time.”

#Spooktober 2024 #my work #Ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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daydreamingtomatos · 2 years ago

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WE STAY WINNING

Tokyo Ghoul Patheticman Poll Finals!

Once again dear god please vote for who you consider the MOST PATHETIC LOSER MAN! Not your favorite!

Would've had this poll up sooner but I wanted to make a nice banner to catch more people's attention. It's a patheticman poll so naturally, I had to draw them all crying. I'd love to hear everyone's reasoning for their choices if you have the time, but otherwise go wild!

#i was editing this next to my friend and we both just kept cackling #so proud to have gotten him out of last place and into second. get fucked <3 #a win for naki is a win for the bisexual community. so says me because i am bisexual #i'd like to thank the academy and every person who remembered that tokyo ghoul has a plot past volume seven #and also everyone who remembered that shuu had his pathetic moments in a lavish mansion while naki was having his on an abandoned roof #rip seidou it wouldve been funny if you got second but now you get to be last which is about as funny.#thank you to my friends who have heard me be insufferable about this blorbo ever since i read tokyo ghoul.#he cried himself to sleep every night for this win. no one tell him what number is on the medals #reblog #tokyo ghoul #naki #tomato talks

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smilingangel582 · 6 months ago

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Warning spoilers after episode 11 of wind breaker

Poker and flush

"Grrr..."

"Sakura-kun..."

Gold and black eyes glared up, almost sending chills down anyone's spine.

"What?"

Tsugeura gives a smile, holding his poker cards for implication, not shaken by that glare, "when ya play poker, you need a poker face..."

"Shut up, I know that!" He muttered now keeping the cards closed to his flustered face.

Why? Why his boring place -to play games and hang out? Honestly... these guys are weird. That's what Sakura would say though he never understood the warmth inside him.

Nirei and Suo exchanged amused glances with each other while Kiryu smirks, his cards neatly splayed with his long fingers. He displayed, "Three of a kind..." then eyes Sakura who literally winced.

"You're so bad at this Sakura-chan" his voice hints playfulness.

Sakura just grits his teeth, grumbling, "Shut it! This game sucks..."

Suo sighs, feigning exasperation though he has a teasing smile, leaning a bit closer to Sakura, "That's what you said when we played Uno and Mario kart"

"Well they all suck!"

Suo grins, letting his hands glide and neatly sprawl the cards on the floor they played on. "Full House..."

Tsugeura whistled, "wow again?"

Sakura already placed his hands down to fold his arms and everyone could see he had a terrible deck at hand... Suo laughs.

"Well I thought I'd be a royal flush... sadly not..."

"Quiet!" He blushed.

Nirei wonders now, seeing Sakura turn redder by each second, "Sakura-san, why's your face so red?"

Tsugeura laughs, his head tilted back for volume, "Haha! Suo-kun guessed it right, that is a royal flush indeed" and then added, "or a straight flush?"

He gestured to Sakura's face, who huffs, looking sideways and folding his arms more reservedly, but his flushed face getting brighter.

Such a tsundere... Nirei chuckles to himself.

"Sakura-kuuun~" Suo sang now wiggling his fingers towards him.

"Oi! Suo s-stop!" Sakura defensively slaps the sneaking hand that attempts to tickle him. Though another hand snuck from the opposite side to poke Sakura in the ribs.

"Ack -hey!" Sakura slips on his back, now stumbling backwards, embracing his ribs with a scowl. Kiryu who's behind Sakura looks interested as his eyes perked up, "Oya?"

Tsugeura looked up in a similar gesture, his cards which are three of a kind, dropped, "Oya, Oya?"

"Ehh..." Sakura noticed many stares, all interested and keen. He slowly attempts to back away but Suo grabs his ankle to pull him back, "Oopse! Almost let you get away there, Sakura-kun"

Tsugeura noticed Suo's action and swiftly joined in with a childisly excited expression, "Haha! I'm loving this, I'll grab him for you"

Sakura sputtered, legs kicking madly now when Suo tried to restrain his legs and Tsuge looming over him, "H-ha? W-w-what the -no!"

Without any difficulty, the muscular guy grabbed his wrists and easily had them above his head, "Gosh Sakura, I expected you to have more violent struggles... plus you seem smaller than i imagineu were"

"Shut up! I-I I'm nohoOHOt!" He arched his back when Suo slides a finger up his side to silence his retorts.

Kiryu looks blissfully at the display where Sakura gets mobbed by Suo and Tsuge.

"Sakura-chan looks so cute... and he's blushing like the royal flush he wishes he had -or a straighr flush at least..."

"Oh!" Nirei grinned with agreement, "yes, Sakura is the royal blush!"

"D-dohohont fuhuhucking mehehess wihihith mehehehe -ahahaha shit!" He had been fighting Suo to free his legs but Tsuge instantly scribbled his fingers under his arms to make him buck and squirm. His head pulled back, his limbs less accurate in trying to escape and cackling loud... a sight no one has ever seen.

Nirei looks with awe, "I feel like Sakura-san's laughter is actually cooler than his usual angry grunts..."

Suo grins, nodding as he gives random pokes on Sakura's stomach and even crawling under his shirt to torment the sensitive skin to make him jolt and shriek.

"Yes Nirei-kun, even if his little temper tantrums are endearing than anything, his giggling is much more amusing to me" he gently tickles his bare sides under the shirt knowing how bad it gets the guy.

"Gaahahaha shihit cohohohome ohohon!" He tries to lower his arms but failed miserable as he felt his neck being targeted, he scrunchedhis neck with a squeak. Despite his large body he's surprisingly gentle and that's not helping poor Sakura at all.

"Aww that was cute!" Tsuge cooed, still running his fingers gently on his neck.

"I wonder what will happen if I do this?" Kiryu abruptly stepped in, and wiggled his fingers teasingly over Sakura's kneecap but that made his foot jerk and nearly hitting Suo's jaw who expertly dodged.

"Whoa now we can't have that..." Suo captures his leg and gave his calf a good squeeze.

"EHHH! WAIT!" His cry got loud and he broke free from Tsuge but couldn't do anything when Kiryu continued his little torture on his knee and Suo carefully strumming his fingers over his soles now after targeting his calf.

"AHAHA SHIT NOT THEHEHEHERE!" He exclaimed with a shrilled high-pitched laugh, Tsuge laughed along as he tried to grab his shoulders for perfect restrain.

"Nice his knees are as bad as his feet... perhapshis calf muscles are more sensitive than his knees..." Nirei jotting down notes and that made Sakura snap with loud giggles, "HEHEHELL HAHA NOHOHO WAY YOU RIIHIHIGHTING THAHAHAT CRAHAHAP!"

"I sure hell am!" Nirei sticks his tongue, then watched how Sakura gets slugged with tickles.

"Ahhhh~ Sakura-chan is so cute, it's so wrong to be that adorable!" Kiryu sang.

And the teasing began...

"Yes Kiryu-kun, his poker face always falls and its too adorable!" Suo joins, sliding a finger up Sakura's arc, that made him squeak and squirm more -oh and his blush.

Tsugeura chuckled as he snapped a few pics of them on his phone. since Sakura's restrains are lowered he takes this chance to weakly tackle Kiryu to the ground. His face as bright as cherries.

"Hahha dahahamn it eehehehenough!"

"Nope not yet..." Suo teased, stepping forward to tase his hips with his finger, which made him jump a bit and crumble side away from straddling the pink haired guy.

"EE!"

"Oh wow its like a weapon" Suo mischievously began using his two fingers like guns to prod his sides and hips.

Kiryu laughs menacingly, raising his hands like gun symbols as well, "That makes four guns! Attack!"

They 'attacked' Sakura's stomach knowing how the tingly touches drives him into mad giggles. Sakura wished he was attacked by real guns tho...

Yet... he can't deny that he didn't mind these funny little games they played with him... even if they are embarassing as heck...

Its not bad...

Sakura however might consider revenge someday... he's not one to forget that easily... till then he might enjoy this...

Tsuge continued recording this messy play fight -well two against one fight at least. His cries of laughter and endless blushes continue a few more minutes.

Nirei loved to see more shades of Sakura, he's just like the cherry blossoms that bloom brightly every spring.

Hope it never ends.

#wind breaker tickle #wind breaker #smilingangel582 #lee!sakura #ler!suo #ler!tsugeura #ler!kiryu #kiryu mitsuki #sakura haruka #nirei akihiko #suo hayato #tsugeura taiga

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live-laugh-lenney · 8 months ago

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Omggg what about george as a girl dad to a one year old, her babbling away and first steps, george being so proud of her 🥹🥹

oh my god-

sundays were yn's favourite day.

a day where neither her nor george had any shoot plans or videos to film for their youtube channels, where neither of them were going out to see friends or family, a day that was just the two of them and their little girl to recuperate after a busy week and get things down around their flat.

where george watched the football on the television, with their little one playing with her toys and keeping him company with her babbles and nonsense conversation, yn decided it was the perfect day to have a clean out of things they no longer used or wore. along with a complete rearrange of furniture. disappearing into their bedroom with a cup of coffee and some biscuits to nibble on when she got a little bit peckish, her laptop playing soft and gentle music so she could still hear if she was at all needed in the living room, the door closed so she wasn't distracted by anything and could get it done at a good time.

she thrived being productive and she felt proud when she managed to empty their wardrobe and move it, by herself, to another corner of the bedroom that opened up bedroom a lot more than before. taking a look at the heap of clothes on the bed that either went in their bin for charity or went in the bin for washing because it was creased or needed freshening up.

"yn!"

her ears prick up and she almost drops the cup of coffee in her hand that she had cradled to her chest, panic flooding through her chest as she darts from the bedroom and into the living room of their flat, her mind racing through different scenarios given the volume of how george shouted her name.

"quick, come here."

as she nears the sofa, she sees her boyfriend sat on the floor with a grin on his face, phone open and in the direction of his daughter as she giggles and claps her hands opposite him.

"what's happened? you panicked me, idiot."

"i don't think you want to miss it if she does it again," he says with a whole heap of excitement dripping from his words, "she took some steps towards me."

"what?"

her eyes widen and her mouth gapes open as she looks at him before she looks towards her daughter, who still sat with a smile on her lips and giggling away at her parents, teeth ever so slightly peeking out from her inflamed gums.

"are you walking to daddy, baby?"

yn takes a seat beside her, crossing her legs and getting comfy on the floor, lifting up her little girl and holding her until she found her feet, a little wobbly once her toes touched the floor. her legs kicking and bending as yn let her little one adjust to being in an upright and standing position.

"come here, you rascal," george coos, arms stretched out and legs bent up, elbows resting on his knees as he wiggles his fingers in her direction, "come on, don't go shy now mummy's watching you."

it's a daunting moment for her.

but once yn removes her hands from her baby's hips, keeping them close in case she took a topple or fell down, the little girl was off on her wobbly legs. arms keep her balance as she took slow steps towards george, mouth wide with a grin as he watches her, hands catching her once she was close and cradling her to her chest.

"you're such a clever girl," he coos and she just cackles into his chest, hands clasping at the t-shirt on his body, "such a clever girl."

"she's growing up, george," yn whines softly and she feels her heart swell as george presses a kiss to their daughter's forehead, "she was crawling not that long ago, i swear."

"just means we need to have another," he suggests and smirks in her direction, "i do like the process in which we make the baby."

"of course you do," yn snorts and stands to her feet, "i'm really not at all surprised." xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey blurbs #george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarke headcannons #george clarke imagines #george clarke blurbs

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sgiandubh · 8 months ago

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Whisky, gin and beer

It was always going to be about beer, too - not only whisky and gin. And it was probably designed to be a simultaneous project, that might have been postponed for various reasons: funny how all those intelligent people across the street forget everything about COVID, when it does not fit their agendas. And by COVID, I do not mean only the prolonged lockdowns, but first and foremost the worldwide logistics crisis, with compromised supply chains and overall a huge blow on the transports' sector.

In fact, looking at those trademark websites, it becomes evident that first (now abandoned) trademark application for beer was filed in at the same time as the one for whisky, on December 28, 2018:

Separate categories, as per US regulations, need separate filings, of course. And beer is a brilliant, simple idea, with high quality local ingredients (it's really barley, water, hops and yeast) relatively easy to source. Well, spare perhaps for the hops, but that is not really a problem, anymore:

(Source: the James Hutton Institute's booklet Hops in Scotland, 2018 - well, then. The institute is based in Dundee, by the way, so I think they know exactly what they are talking about, especially after a four year long feasibility study with encouraging results: https://www.hutton.ac.uk/news/scottish-hops-viable-commercial-crop-hutton-research-finds)

As I always make a point of reminding anyone, this page does not deal in fantasy and empty, meaningless scouring of social media accounts. And cackle to your heart's content, Mordor, but S seems to have a genuine, informed interest in the industry, as shown above.

This is a different business plan and a different marketing model, based on affordable production costs and yield/volume (as compared to successive, 'limited batches' of tequila or whisky, where the accent is placed on the excellence of the product and know-how, as reflected in the final price tag). You can bottle that beer or you can sell it on tap, partnering with local bars and pubs first, then progressively extending that network. And I bet the farm it is going to be a premium, artisanal beer first, with options open for a more democratic product, once brand awareness is properly built: beer is versatile, like that.

Whisky and gin were expensive, carefully curated pet projects. Beer is a fun, easy and lucrative one, with a wider clientele and fast growing potential. And this is how that unknown, struggling Scottish actor who once was the face of Tennent's has a fair opportunity to strike it big. To be followed, which I might do. And this is also how his products could cover the entire price range, from luxury to affordable.

It is also always disheartening to see how all those bitter women congregating on certain Tumblr pages feel the need to dismiss anything he does. As I always said and I always will, many of them have no idea about the very basics of business and trade, no exposure to that world and, to be honest, no particular intellectual acuity. Plus I bet the farm many of them lie about their own circumstances: it's easy to pretend, on the Internet and always sexier (and lame, of course) to introduce yourself as a corporate whatever than a secretary. But I wonder how would they feel, in the unlikely situation they would be running their own lemonade stand, if passers by started cackling and bitching about their trade, out of the blue.

So, all in all, we seem to be dealing with some careful preparation, portfolio diversification and yes, taking much needed strides away from McGrandma. To be continued, of course...

PS: FMN Gin, still crickets? Ahhh...

#fandom #shitshow #booze wars

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prismatic-starstuff · 5 months ago

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actually you know what i'll. give some preliminary, very spoiler-heavy, underslept and stream of consciousness thoughts about the final boss; and by the final boss, i mainly mean—

—miquella, because my thoughts on him at this moment are clearer than my thoughts on radahn. (more on that later.)

(important disclaimer: i don't ship any of the characters mentioned in this post together, and i don't condone the behaviours mentioned. this is just a bit of a character analysis and my personal thoughts at this moment; they could change.)

i think miquella is genuinely all those epithets he has; kind and tender. i think he genuinely did want to make the world a gentler place. i think he meant, in his heart, every single word he said about compassion and love.

i do not think miquella knows what compassion and love are. or how to parse and display them in a healthy way, at least.

because healthy compassion doesn't boil down to 'i'll bewitch you so you're always gentle,' and healthy love doesn't boil down to 'i want you and so i'll take you.' but in miquella's mind, he genuinely believes that this is how these things look, and so those are the tools with which he means to build his new age; truly good intentions, but horribly misguided feelings and attitudes.

in the end, i think miquella is a very sad character. both in the sense of miquella personally being very unhappy, and also the sense that... analysing him makes me sad. because i don't believe he had any bad intentions whatsoever; i don't believe he was this conniving creature with malicious desires who knew full well that he was acting in cruelty... i believe he wholeheartedly thought he was doing good.

and i believe he was scared, and lonely, and desperate.

miquella, cursed with eternal physical childhood and frailty, didn't want the godhood that hung over his head like an inescapable threat. and so, when he found someone whose kindness and strength charmed him - as opposed to him having to do the charming - he clutched onto radahn... far, far too tightly.

and that's not good. of course it isn't. i'm not condoning any of it. but i just don't think it was out of cackling evilness or badness or malice; i just... think miquella really wanted someone to be there for him during the godhood he didn't want.

now, my whole opinion goes in different directions on whether or not radahn was in on this, wholeheartedly, ready to go. if he was, then fair enough, they made a vow in their youth and radahn's no victim. if he wasn't, then yeah, he was absolutely a victim in the situation.

i'm not gonna get too deep into mohg because that's very cut and dry and could take up entire posts in itself; mohg was used. used in miquella's well-meaning plan, yes, but used. which to me is... very odd, because it's making me reevaluate every single thing i thought i knew about mohg at all. it's a weird place to be in.

another thing about miquella is that he seems very much to be a person of extremes. if he's going to claim godhood, he wants to be rid of all that came before; including who he was. he literally went through the land of shadow ripping bits of himself off and out to get rid of them; got rid of a literal half of himself in saint trina.

and speaking of saint trina... i think it is extremely telling that she - literally the other half of miquella - tells us in no uncertain terms to kill him; as a mercy. that speaks volumes about the mental state miquella must be in.

lastly, there's the question of whether that eternal childhood was just physical, or also extended to miquella's mentality. personally, i think it was just physical; what he did exhibited a lot of unhealthy behaviours, yes, but... i don't think the root cause of those behaviours was him having a child's mentality. personally, there's not enough evidence there to believe otherwise imo.

so yeah... tl;dr: miquella makes me sad. he did some very bad things, but i don't think he's a bad person, which makes it even sadder. everything about him and radahn and malenia and mohg is fucked up and heartbreaking. and ultimately, i don't believe he's a deliberately manipulative evil nasty being; rather, someone who's drowning in despair to the point of self-destruction, someone who does not want his fate but is marching towards it as best he can, someone who did truly terrible things in the pursuit of what was at its heart a very innocent goal.

#shadow of the erdtree spoilers #elden ring spoilers #i... should tag this with the appropriate characters but— spoilers

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hearted-anon · 8 months ago

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Members need rest? Chan knows best!

Words: 4.4k Lee(s): Skz Ler: Channie

Chan laid back after the cruel hours of idol work, feeling his bones turn to mush under the comfortable mattress. The fans had been swarming him like bees to honey the entire day, and don’t get him wrong, he loves stays as much as the next member, but it was tiring to deal with it continuously. A soft smile grazed his face tiredly, finally slipping away into dreamland after what felt like an eternity of staring at the ceiling who glared back at him, courtesy of insomnia.

Then he heard it.

Loud screams of excitement rang through the halls like a fire alarm, making his ears ring. Apparently although the leader was more than done with all the shenanigans he had been through for the day, his members weren’t, having more than enough energy to spare. He closed one eye temporarily, hoping the members would get the hint when the oldest didn’t exit to join in. Alas, they were clueless, only making the noise grow in volume as what sounded like Hyunjin and Changbin arguing rang throughout the halls.

Slamming open his room door, he glared daggers at all 7 kids, who stopped right in their tracks at the long pang of the wood slamming against the wall. The daggers were a cold sting to their heart, making the kids cower into a corner with fear as the oldest grew closer. He sighed, he didn’t want to instil fear into his children whenever he was upset, it hurt to see them on the verge of tears as if he was going to tear them apart limb by limb.

And that’s when he thought of it.

“10 seconds, go hide.” He whispers without context, relieved when the members slowly come undone from their bundle, which he thought was adorable, maybe he would scare them more often. They all looked up at him in confusion, eyes glistening with what he didn’t know were tears or happiness that they weren’t going to die, making his heart melt when he found himself being looked up upon by 7 curious puppies. However, all fun comes to an end, he was meant to punish them after all. He didn’t respond, only counting down slowly, either way it made the kids shriek and run to hide, even if they had no idea what was going on.

If they couldn’t sleep when needed, Chan would ensure they were tired enough.

Trekking along the halls, he hummed a soft tune that echoed eerily throughout the halls, a warning call to the hiding children. He smirked, all of his exhaustion replaced by the desperate need to find all of his children, by hook or by crook. The first kid he found was of course his first child, hiding under Chan’s own bed. A scream of surprise ensued before Jisung was pulled from under the bed by his feet, a very tickle hungry leader looming over him.

The quokka babbled and pleaded for mercy, silenced in an instant when Chan pressed his lips right onto his ribs, blowing as hard as he could as his fingers travelled into his armpits quickly, kneading and massaging the middle. Han absolutely lost it, cackling and shrieking as he tried to squirm away to no avail with the oldest sitting comfortably on his waist.

“ARGH! HYUHUHAHAHA! I’M SOHOHOHOR- EEK!” Jisung tried his best to beg, but a squeal of agony left his mouth when Chris decided on nibbling onto his ribs too, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh between the bones before vibrating his teeth gently there, sending the younger to see stars. He stomped his feet onto the floor desperately, begging for release as tears of mirth streamed down his face, decorating his chubby cheeks.

“Learned your lesson? Now go to bed.” Chan strictly told him, though it wasn’t as intimidating with that wide smile, admiring his kid that panted and wiped at his tears. Jisung nodded enthusiastically, not wanting to experience another round of that torture, it was absolutely ruthless. He didn’t know his hyung was that rough, retreating back to his room, feeling bad for the other members.

1 kid down, 6 more to go.

“Where are my kids hm? I promise I won’t be too harsh if you come out now…” He feigned innocence, singing his words. He turned his head, facing the cat den that was Minho’s room. Usually anyone entering that den was prohibited, even Chan himself, who got quite the harsh scolding from the younger when the older was caught snooping in his room. But he knew he was hiding there, using his kitty privileges to his advantage. He barged in, and lo and behold there he was, resting comfortably on his bed as if Bangchan wouldn’t know of his safe haven.

“W-What are you doing here?! You c-can’t just- AH!” Minho’s scolding which was merely a ploy to hide his anxiousness, not really hidden with the stuttering he was doing. The older simply lunged at the cat without hesitation, letting out sweet Aussie giggles as he wrestled the bunny down. It wasn’t that much of a fight, seeing how he was the second strongest in Stray Kids, easily pinning those arms high above his head, seated nicely on his plump thighs.

“You were saying, cutie?” Chan giggled lowly when the bunny’s face burned a bright red at the name call, Lee Know would never get used to those compliments no matter how many times the older one did it. He kicked under Chris’s hold, trying to lodge himself out of the weight placed off of him. All was well until Minho felt fingers drum onto his lower belly, the fabric of his tank top doing absolutely nothing to protect him.

“Nah ah~ You had so much energy to wake me up right? I’ll tire you out just fine.” The oldest tutted before sinking his fingers right into the younger’s v-line, kneading all too close to his hips and thighs. A piercing shriek left his mouth before he descended into witch-like cackles, his hands weakly pulling at the fingers that invaded his waistline, even with his shirt it felt like they were vibrating right onto his weak spot.

“ARGH! HYUHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THERE! PLEA- NOO!” Another shriek left him when he felt hair brush along his ear before teeth sunk into his neck, nibbling along the pudgy skin that gathered under his ear. Stamping his feet he begged and squealed for mercy, slamming down his chin to his collarbone to block out the head, hands tugging at the fingers that wouldn’t stop kneading his skin, it was all futile. Until tears were soaking his shirt collar, which didn’t take long, he was released from his prison. Minho panted and gasped for air on the bed, curling up into himself. Chan didn’t even have to tell him to sleep, the younger’s eyes closing and promptly falling asleep.

2 kids down, 5 more to go.

Quietly creaking the door shut to the cat’s den, he snuck around the rooms, eyes eventually landing onto his soulmate, none other than his Aussie bro, hiding snugly in a cupboard. Rushing over, he pulled the chick out, more concerned at the weird angle the blonde was in, back following the curve of the cupboard, creeping him out. He held Felix high in the air with his hands under Lix’s underarms to hold him there, inspecting for injuries. The younger sighed, hoping he had forgotten all about the punishment. What a fool he was.

Once ensuring the chick wasn’t injured, Chan gave him a disappointed and knowing look. The sunshine had a terrible habit of doing anything that he could to win or hide, sometimes it was quite the danger. Too bad for Felix, it just added onto the list of reasons on why he should be punished. The sunshine looked genuinely upset at that look, frowning as he slumped under the leader’s arms, whispering a sorry under his breath.

“You’ll definitely be sorry.” Before the sunshine could retort a question of confusion, he felt a mushroom of hair slip under his shirt, lips attaching to the top of his abs, settling on one of the packs near the ribs before blowing harshly. He shrieked, falling into loud, squeaky hysterics as his feet wiggled fruitlessly under the older. He couldn’t move anywhere besides twisting and turning to the side, which only made the sensations worse. Oh how Felix majorly regretted waking Chan up, he was pinned high in the air unless he could pull himself up, which was not possible with the tight grip that held his waist high up.

“PLEHEHHEASE! NOHOAHAHA!” Felix howled with laughter when it in fact didn’t stop, the older’s lips delicately brushing along the younger’s abs before blowing on each pack harshly, before he was face to face with his navel. The sunshine could feel the warm breath that blew into it, making him giggle nervously as he looked down to plead for mercy.

“W-Wahahait! I-I’m sohohory! I wohohon’t do it ahahagain- NO HYUNG!” Felix collapsed when Chan began to nibble along the rim of his belly button, shaking his head both in denial to stop and to rub his fluffy hair along the victim’s tummy, making him squeal. Felix went limp in Chris’s hold, unable to push at his head, only kicking his feet out and shaking his own head as he begged for it to stop. His throat grew hoarse, vision blurring up with tears as he saw the light itself.

Maybe he actually did, because the next thing he knew he felt himself being laid down, seeing his own dreams within seconds. He wondered if he had passed out, only realising that he had fallen asleep the moment Chan had stopped, and was cradled and tucked into bed without another word. He smiled softly, maybe the leader wasn’t as ruthless as he thought, continuing his sweet dreams calmly.

That was 3 kids down, 4 more to go…

Not long after the leader had gone chicken hunting, he immediately found a chick’s predator, a fox. The fox hibernated peacefully under blankets and pillows, making Chan squeal like a school girl at the adoring sight. His heart melted with cupid’s arrow pierced through it, approaching the youngest quietly not to disturb him. As much as he favourites the maknae line, he was hungry for tickles, and he was going to get them all like Pokemon.

“Baby? Are you awake?” A soft whisper coaxed the youngest out of his slumber, yawning that made Chan want to kick his feet absolutely everywhere while giggling. Jeongin nodded slowly, still dazed from being woken up from his slumber. Hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a tight cuddle under the sheets. They laid in silence for a good while, Chan almost forgetting what he was here for having the cutie in his arms.

Almost.

“Are the scars on your face still there?” Chan murmured softly into Jeongin’s ear, seemingly out of the blue. They both shuddered at the memory, but swallowing his nerves he could feel the nod in the darkness of his room. And then came a sniffle. Chris squeezed the other’s waist tighter, consoling his insecurities that welled up deep in his heart. He needed to comfort him, and needed it now he did.

So why not kill two birds with one stone?

Chan gently pressed his lips to the skin of the younger’s scars, trailing his lips softly over the rough skin. He smiled when he got a soft squeak and sweet giggles in return, his hands that once laid protectively over his waist holding his hands down, ensuring there was nothing to hide that smile.

“Hyung! W-Whahaha!” Jeongin’s words were cut off with another squeak when fingers traced delicate shapes and hearts into his sides and tummy, along with the persistent loving kisses that rained down onto his scars. His cheeks soon turned a bright red, flustered out of his mind that his gentle loving did wonders to himself, not wanting to admit it. There came no response, only a soft hum that vibrated in ticklish motions along his skin, before continuing his chaste kissing all over his scars.

“Plehehease it tickles so bahahad!” He squeaked out meekly, squealing sharply when teeth nibbled and lips kissed along the back of his ear, close to his neck. Not many people knew, but the members more than often took advantage of that sensitive patch of skin, whenever they did so much as go close to that spot, shoulders automatically scrunched up to protect himself. He fell into high pitched cackling, trying to turn around to no avail with Chan’s hands tight around his torso that bonded his arms together.

“HYUAHAHHA! NOHOHO!” He kicked out beneath the tight cuddles, shaking his head when he realised any attempt to leave was completely futile, left to suffer as so under the hands of the leader. Chris simply cooed, whispering compliments through nibbles and kisses that made Jeongin feel like his face was on fire. Only when he felt Jeongin go limp eventually was he released, cuddled properly to sleep before the oldest slipped away, like a shadow in the night’s sky.

That was 4 kids down, 3 to go.

Sneaking away into the puppy’s enclosure now, he scrambled and turned the room upside down, eager to find Seungmin. His search was fruitless, no signs of any puppy baby being in the room. Or so he thought, when he found the child’s legs peeking out from what he initially thought were a normal bundle of clothes. They didn’t move, nor breathe at first, leading Chan to think he might’ve had a hard time breathing in there, instantly activating his dad instincts.

Grabbing the puppy’s feet, he dragged him out, seeing a red faced Seungmin. Well at least he was right to think he struggled breathing, letting Seungmin catch his breath calmly as he waited. He wasn’t a monster, despite his ruthless attacks he didn’t want to go overboard after all, only seeking to tire his babies out. Once done, he securely headlocked the younger’s feet high in the air, a panicking Seungmin on the floor as he tried to sit up to get his feet back to no avail.

“D-Don’t! If you do, you're old!” Seungmin threatened with a hiss, though Chan knew behind those walls his heart was tugged down by embarrassment and anticipation, and boy was he going to take that to his advantage.

“Still wanna talk back like this hm?” Chan hummed, his fingers descending on one of the willing soles to trace gently along it, under his toes, to his arch then his heel, and repeating. The puppy screeched and giggled like a maniac, not hysterically but it felt so ticklish, so so ticklish with all the anticipation that welled inside his heart. He was lying if he said he didn’t deserve this, but it was torture!

“I-I’m sohohory! Plehehehase dohohon’t tease mehehe!” Seungmin pleaded desperately, unable to take the soft scratching up and down his soles for any longer. It drove him just as crazy as normal tickling, though he would’ve much rather had that than whatever torture method this was.

“You wanna be tickled? Okay!” Chan bubbled enthusiastically, before his manicured nails went haywire onto his bare feet, scratching along any surface of the soft skin he could find. Seungmin shrieked as loudly as he could before descending like those fingers into hysterics, tugging at his feet as his hand pounded into the floor. With the added anticipation along with those nails that felt horrible, he was driven ballistic, it took less than a minute before tears streamed down his face.

“I-IT’S SOHOHO BAHAHAD! PLEHEAHAHAHA! HYUHUHUNG!” He thrashed, tried to kick, arched his back but nothing released himself from the head lock on his feet, begging for mercy that was granted once he saw that Seungmin looked on the verge of passing out, sweat falling down his forehead like it was the most intense workout he’s ever had. Chan smiled sweetly in contrast to the torture he’s putting his children to, kissing away the tears on the puppy’s cheeks before carrying him like a bag of rice, plopping him down and promptly tucking him in.

“Sleep, or else.” Chan’s tone was strict, dripping was threats as his fingers wiggled towards Seungmin one last time, eliciting a squeal before he went out to let him sleep.

That was 5 kids to go, now the last 2 whom he planned the most for…

He pondered where the loud duo could be, steps of his feet drumming against the wooden floors that creaked sullenly when he walked. He entered the art room, a quiet wave of serenity washing over him the moment his feet touched the marble floor. It was silent here, a barricade keeping out the noises that crashed Hyunjin’s focus whenever he tried to make art sealed shut, letting his hands dance over canvases when his feet weren’t on the floor.

Smiling softly at the peace of the room, he snapped his head at the sound of pencils drawing smoothly onto the canvas. Was Hyunjin seriously drawing? A pang of guilt shot through his heart, he’d hate to ruin the ferret’s drawing with his want to punish him, he loved their passion in their respective hobbies, enjoying admiring them in their field of strength more than anything.

Which is why he set up a trap.

Holding a paintbrush in his hands, he tapped gently onto the wall, and almost in an instant a pair of ferret ears peeked from the wall, crawling over and inspecting Chan, as if a cat finding something interesting. The older chuckled softly, letting the analysis happen without a worry, he looked very much adorable this way anyway. Eventually the older got bored, scooping the artist up without a word and planting him onto the bed of the room, where Hyunjin mostly slept when he stayed up late at night.

“You argued quite loudly with Changbin, and now you act like you don’t deserve punishment?” Chan scolded, but the smile he wore was much less intimidating. Grabbing his wrists he pinned them high, high above his head, stretching out his shirt to reveal his tummy entirely. The younger visibly panicked, babbling pleas of apologies as he watched the paint brush he was so curious about draw closer to his tummy. Shaking his head, he was begging on his knees, or lying down, for this not to happen.

“Since you were drawing, how about I draw for you?” With that, Chan attached his lips to Hyunjin’s stomach, blowing long and torturous raspberries all over. Hyunjin shrieked, his sensitivity hitting new peaks as he stomped and cackled.

“ARGH AHAHAHAH! I CAHAHAHN’T TAHAHAHKE IT!” Hyunjin squealed out desperately, trying to pull his arms down from being held like ropes up to head, unable to do anything but thrash like a fish out of water. Chan grumbled when screeches filled the air, maybe he should’ve just ended it at Jeongin. But no matter, there wouldn’t be anymore screeching soon enough.

Lifting his lips from the tortured tummy, Hyunjin panted and gasped for air, pleading for mercy as he pulled at his arms, putting out his lower lip to make him look all the more miserable. Unfortunately, the judge did not rule in his favour, as right then he felt the paintbrush dip into his navel, painting delicate strokes that made him shriek before cackling like a maniac, digging his heels into the bed.

“OHOHO MY GAHAHAHD! MAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAP!” He cried out, going absolutely crazy as if he had lost his wits, much to Chan’s fun. He enjoyed seeing the drama queen being himself, wanting and craving more laughter for his ensemble of a punishment. He knew that the ferret would tap out soon, but those flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes made it hard to resist.

“One last finale…” Chan stuck his lips onto Hyunjin’s side, blowing as hard as he could. A scream loud enough to wake up the entire dorm rang out before it turned pin drop silent, Hyunjin silently begging for mercy as his throat turned hoarse and quiet. The older’s canvas was finished, letting him go as he watched the artist curl up into a ball, giggling away the tingles. He tucked Hyunjin into bed, being careful not to touch him as he twitched in agitated motions from how hard he was wrecked. Leaving the second last room, he ventured out, tickle hungry enough to say he was starving for his last victim.

6 kids down, now for the last one, he’d be saving the best for last.

Humming a soft tune, Chan spins around the halls gleefully, his mood to wreck his children increasing by the second. It put his nerves on end, sent his heart pounding and heightening his senses. He practically flipped the dorm upside down trying to find the last child of a rapper, nowhere to be found. Just as he heaved a sigh of frustration and stomped his feet with a pout, a squeal came from the chick’s coop, a squeal he knew anywhere else.

Bolting and barging right into the brownie boy’s room, he swung open the door faster than lightning, face to face with Minho’s babies, wrestling on the pillows. His eyes met Changbin’s in an instant, boring holes that went straight through the rapper’s soul, sending a chill down his spine. Believe me when I said he dashed out as fast as Chan came in, squealing for his life as a ravenous Chan chased him down.

Unfortunately, the dwaekki was caught almost as soon as he left, hoisted up into the air and slumped onto Chan’s shoulder as if he weighed air. As they trekked into Chan’s bedroom, Changbin squirmed and thrashed, trying to pull away the hands locked around his waist.

“You made me suffer. Through. All. That. Finding. You are so. So. Getting. It.” Chan emphasised his firm point, each full stop he made containing a poke somewhere on the younger’s body, from his ribs to his sides, then his back to his hips, it made Changbin squeal loudly with each poke. Thrown on the bed, the oldest took the sweater he originally intended to wear to sleep before he was disturbed, now tying Changbin’s hands above his head, making him whimper in fear.

“Since you made me go through all that finding, I’ll tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you. First, I’ll scratch these nails into your ribs, right into the crevices while whispering sweet compliments into your ear, not to mention blow wind into them. Then, I’ll knead your hips gently, not enough to make you hysterical but you’ll buck like a wild bull. To keep you down, I’ll nibble along that cute pudge of your tummy, I just bet it’ll be unbearable to you. But too bad, it won’t stop till I feel that I’ve had enough and don’t feel hungry. Aw~ You blushing?”

Chan cooed after meticulously plotting and spilling his actions that would be happening to the poor rapper underneath, whose face and ears were already on fire before anything even happened. He shook his head desperately, digging his heels into the bed as the cat fiddled with his tongue, unable to get words out. Anticipation was killing him, the thought of being told exactly what was doing and having the thought of cackling himself silly drove him up the wall. He shrieked when Chan merely placed his hands underneath his shirt, the warmth of his hands making him burst into sweet high pitched giggles, eyes crinkled shut with a dimpled smile.

“What a cutie~ Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re so giggly? Isn’t that just the sweetest…” The oldest might’ve been a tad bit sadistic for being so cruel, but he was hungry for that laughter, especially after all that searching.

“Pl-Plehehehease! I-I’m sohohohory!” Changbin meekly begged, unable to take the tendrils of anticipation that drove him crazy before any fingers or lips got the chance to wreck him silly, what an embarrassment.

“You want me to wreck you? Want me to wreck you badly?” Chan cooed sweetly with an innocent smile, masking away his sinister intentions as a squirmy Changbin only got redder in the face, nodding timidly. He smirked, he loved getting his way.

Diving his head under Bin’s sweatshirt, he did exactly what he set out to do, teeth settling onto the pudge of fat that lined his tummy before his v-line, going crazy with raspberries and nibbles onto it. His fingers drilled into his thighs, the inner section where the skin would clash the thighs together, switching between his nails scribbling up and down to squeezing it relentlessly.

To say Changbin went crazy was an understatement, a loud, shrill scream akin to Hyunjin’s left his mouth before he cackled himself insane, trying first to close his legs before they were open back up promptly, arching his back, but it only pressed that dreaded mouth against his bare skin more, forcing him to crash back down.

“ARGHAHAHAHAAH! YAHAHAHAA!” He couldn’t even get words out, only shaking his head as he tugged hard at the sweater, who suffered in agony from the sheer strength it was being tugged at, but didn’t relent to let his hands free. Chan chuckled slowly, mumbling against his pudge that made him squeal.

“Can’t even speak anymore Bin? How adorable.” Was all that left his mouth before he got busy on his tummy again, Changbin absolutely hated how his Hyungs knew exactly where to make him go ballistic, his fingers digging into his wrists in ticklish agony. His howling didn’t even make it to two minutes before it cut off, hoarsely but silently begging for mercy as tears streamed down his face like rivulets.

Chan let up, he wasn’t out to kill after all. Lifting himself out of Changbin’s shirt and untying him, he snuggled into Changbin’s hair, taking in the sweet scent of strawberries and kissing the top of his head sweetly. His hands did his usual routine of tracing those hearts into his cheeks, making the younger smile shyly through his greedy panting. They both fell asleep, both tired from hunting and being hunted.

At least now the members knew what was not to mess with now, especially at night when there was a tired chan in bed trying to sleep.

#..?#meow #no context #Felt like it #ler channie #lee changbin #lee!minho #lee hyunjin #lee Han #lee Jisung #lee!felix #lee seungmin #lee jeongin #skz tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickle

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