#yet they hate Cate

[graveyarrdshift]

I'm very surprised by how many people hate Cate Dunlap. They wouldn't survive watching The Boys if they think she's a bad person lmao

[catedunlapsgf]

can someone tell me why as soon as my tongue really started healing i get the worst cold of my life with the worst sore throat EVER

[vivwritesfics]

How are you:)

A date at a Cate Cafe with Max and then going back to his place and his cats get jealous:>

-🐎

Hello my dear!! A short one I apologise

Max had never been to a cat cafe before. She nearly couldn't believe it that he, a massive cat lover, hadn't yet been to a cat café.

It was criminal.

Let it be known that Max both loved and hated the idea of a cat cafe. He didn't understand how that many cats in that small a space could be happy. Plus, cats jumping on tables while they're trying to eat?

But then Max experienced it. The moment a cat rolled over in front of his feet he was crouching down, stroking them. He sat down opposite her, letting out an excited giggle whenever a cat brushed past his legs.

Max found out it was a charity, that all of the money donated went towards the cats. So, after their wonderful little afternoon tea, Max wrote out a phat cheque.

Throughout the afternoon tea, Max couldn't stop comparing the cats around him to Jimmy and Sassy. He missed them while they were there, that much was clear.

So, she and Max headed home.

"Jim! Sass!" He called as he let them into the apartment. But, in typical kitty cat fashion, they ignored him.

It was an endearing sight, seeing Max search for his cats. The moment he found one (Sassy, but she couldn't tell the difference), he scooped it into his arms and kissed it all over.

"I missed you," he said again and again as Sassy tried to get away.

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Bad For Me. —

Jordan Li x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst (questionable, not there)/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: enemies to lovers, car sex, slight humor, possessive dom!jordan, got your tea bitch sub!y/n.

synopsis: jordan hates your guts or wants to rearrange them. they haven’t decided yet. (yes they have).

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

She forces her way through the crowds, feeling herself bump into more than one frat boy being obnoxious on the dance floor, when she's finally pushed her way from everyone, her eyes darting around to the bar's seating area, not too many were there on account of the drinks keeping them busied.

She sighs until her attention is taken by a friend waving her over. Fixing the cowboy hat on her head, she makes her way over to them, a gentle smile on her face taking one of the seats next to Emma.

She doesn't notice them at first until she looks up and her smile immediately drops when they wink at her.

"Y/n? Earth to Y/n?" Marie snaps in front of her taking her attention away from the supe.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"I'm here, ma. I was...distracted. Far too many frat boys in that crowd."

"You didn't see anything you liked out there?" Emma asked, draping her arm around Y/n and passing her a shot.

Y/n smirks, downing her shot, head leaned against Emma's when she speaks, her eyes close for a second, meeting Emma's the moment they open again, shaking her head, "Nah, sweetheart. Ain't nothing for me on that floor, you know me."

"I do. You're very picky."

"I like it that way."

As she talks, a pair of eyes track her every movement like a hawk's, eyes barely leaving her to scope out the scene, when they do look away, it's like something pulls them right back to her, which was the wildest thing to them in all honesty. They'd disliked the supe the moment they first met. There was something about her that just pissed them off.

"You been awfully quiet, Jor." Cate speaks up, leaning forward to observe their every move. "Shifty eyes too. What's up?"

"I just need a shot. That reason enough?"

"I'll take it. For now."

Jordan's eyes roll, and now they're really trying their hardest not to look over at the witch, she had psychic abilities, they were sure she'd had them pinned the moment they talked, and if she did, she didn't let it on, looking at them curiously for a fraction of a moment that felt like hours in Jordan's eyes, every time her eyes met them it felt like she could see through to their soul, rip them open and dissect every flaw.

"I could...go get us some?" She offers, moving from her spot leaned on Emma, legs crossed one over the other. Cate's eyes break from Jordan knowingly, but no one really says a word, what's understood, after all...

"You stare any harder your eyes will pop out of your skull, kid." Cate pats the poor thing on the shoulder, grin stretching cheek to cheek.

↳

Jordan despises you, they despise your very existence, the way your platinum blonde curls frame your face, making your dark brown skin pop out in a way that could distract God from his toughest battles, your lips full and always glossed, black lipliner a staple combo for you, they'd noticed. They'd noticed a lot about you and that's what they hated. You were insufferable in a way that left their mouth watering for more.

A puzzle they were determined to solve.

When you had come back with the shots, they weren't surprised that you caught somebody's eyes. That's another thing they hated about you, they hated that anybody else could look at you and notice the beauty they'd been trying their damndest not to notice.

When you were about to sit down again, some jock who Jordan noticed had been eyeing you for quite some time comes over, and Jordan wasn't exactly happy about it.

It happened so quick, everyone and no one was surprised when it did.

"I was wondering, if you, pretty thing would like to dance with little ole me?" He had the most infuriating southern accent possible and Jordan's jaw set immediately upon hearing it, stood up before you could utter an sentence in response, their form towering over you now as they look up at the douchebag, blonde with blue eyes and overwhelming steroids abuse.

"Move along, alright?" Jordan has a grin of all things on their face, like this was merely entertainment to them, their arms casually draping across your shoulder as if it was meant to be there.

"I was talking to the lady, Li."

"Yeah? You're talking to me now, Jeremy. You okay with that?"

Throughout this all, Y/n hadn't really uttered word, in complete shock that this was happening, I mean this was the same person that had just called you a nuisance a day prior.

"Man, I don't want a problem."

"So don't make one." Jordan's gaze burns into his soul, jaw clenched and eyes darker than they'd been before, they smile, eyes narrowing further.

Jeremy scoffs, turning to walk back off with his friends.

You just look up at Jordan in disbelief, mouth opened slightly.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After that night Jordan was strangely quiet, you hadn't heard a peep out of them since then, no smartass remark, insult, it was complete silence. Though they lingered. Loomed.

It wasn't until you were pulled into an empty classroom, their scent taking up residence in your every sense, it's hard to pin what it reminds you of but you know what it feels like, and it's the most cliche thought you've ever had.

They just stared at you for a moment like they're trying to get a read on you, size you up, you feel exposed, naked as the day you were born despite the sweater she wore.

"You...You make me so unbelievably angry."

"I do? That's what this is? Anger?" You cock your head to the side, a smile threatening to appear on your lips, eyes so deep they drown in them. Jordan hisses, bringing you closer to them, their breath tickling your skin.

"Yeah that's what that is. Anger. We need to talk."

"I agree. Let's."

Jordan hoists you up onto the table, staring you down like it was their job to, before they speak, you beat them to the punch. "That was wild...What you did last weekend at the bar. For you especially. Wanna address it?"

"What? I didn't want him anywhere near you. So?"

"Since when did I become your problem?" You ask, your hands in your lap almost protectively like you were skeptical of how the situation would go, they could pratically smell the nerves on you, and it made them all the more...needy. Like you were the sundae to satiate their sweet tooth, before they knew it, their arm was snaking around your waist tugging you closer to them.

"You became my problem the second you got here, and I can't seem to get rid of you. I don't know what you're doing to me, darlin' but I..."

"You what?"

Their forehead presses against yours, holding you even tighter against them like you'd crumble if they were to let you go, something so fragile that only they could protect it. That's what you were to them. "I need you. Horribly. And it fucking sucks to have to admit it but there's...there's something about your freshie. Something that latches onto me and doesn't let go. Can't you feel it?"

"I always have." You respond coolly, your hand wrapping around their bicep, and it's absolutely far too late to turn back now nor do either of you want to. Neither of you want to ruin this.

"Then the jokes on me, huh Pretty girl?" They chuckle, pushing your legs apart to stand between them, they trap you between their arms their face unbelievably close to yours, "How could I not understand just how badly I needed you, sweetheart? You're something worse than a drug and I think we need to leave before I tear you apart right here right now." Their voice is deep in your ears, something that vibrates within you like a freight train.

There was nothing in their tone to suggest that they weren't completely serious in their quest to drag you off, you could see their self control dwindling before your very eyes and you knew that if it weren't soon, you'd be bent over a desk in some room a poor janitor would have to clean up later.

It's silent for a breath, but their hold on you only grows tighter, possessive like they were afraid of you vanishing.

Their breath kisses your skin, words a soft promise of their undoing.

"My place."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

It wasn't my fault, I don't know when the lines had become so muddied but having her by my side just felt insanely right to me, her perfume blanketing over me and imbedding every fucking detail of the witch into my psyche so deep I can never seem to get rid of it, and as she sat beside me singing her heart out to the radio, it furthers my obsession, she, my vice, and the neverending subject of my every thought.

She says something but I don't quite hear it, her scent drowns it all out, euphoria washes over me, and I can hear her rambling on about everything and nothing like she's already so comfortable in my presence.

My hand rests on her thigh, and I tune back in just enough to hear her ask me with a knowing smirk on her face like she could see right through me and then some, and I wouldn't be shocked if she could. That was the thing about her, she was always one step ahead and that's what pulled me to her.

"You weren't listening to a damn thing I said were you, Li?" She asked, leaning forward to look at me better, observing me so intensely I could feel myself growing an unbelievably deep shade of red that kinda irritated me. Maybe that's why I disliked her so much at first. She was the first person here to make me feel things I didn't wanna allow myself to ever feel, especially not with the path my life was headed.

It was her that made me wanna break all my rules, and I've always been a control freak. It was annoying to feel her pushing so hard at walls I thought I'd built so indestructibly. -- Now here she was looking at me with that damned smile of hers, staring through me and making me question everything I've ever known.

"I- Yeah, Um nah. I was a little distracted, I admit." I chuckle too nervously for my own liking, one hand on the wheel and the other squeezing the pretty thing's thigh; I always get a hit when she looks at me like I hold the world in the palm of my hands, and I can just feel my throat squeezing shut, my self control something so fragile when I'm near her.

"I see. What's on your mind?"

She asked me what was on my mind, I think that's when it snapped. I knew about this little hideaway, a spot away from the lights and the threat of being seen, and before I even realized it that's where we were, a shaded space away from everything with the woman I'd been fantasizing about for way too damned long for my liking, she was gonna be the fucking death of me if I didn't fix this.

"Cute. You know what's on my mind. Get your ass over here."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

She was in their lap within a breath or two, the car wasn't particularly spacious but it was enough for the two of them, a mess of desire ripping off each other's clothes with intent, it was almost like something necessary needed for them survive, something akin to oxygen itself.

Their hand reaches up to tug her head back, hands entangled in her curls, forcing her to look into their eyes directly.

"Ride me." The statement was so simple, so effortlessly whispered between them and it didn't...it didn't get to hang in the air too long either, unrequited was something this situation knew nothing of.

Her body was pressed so closely against them it was almost suffocating, her forehead against theirs when she was fully on top of them. Her chest heaves, their breathing and the sound of the music the only thing heard in the car, and it seemed they were determined to be the loudest things there.

They let out a sharp hiss when their cock is finally exposed to the air and it takes not even a moment for her cunt, dripping so shamelessly, to hover over their hardened length, leaving a heat so lethal to wash over them.

They grip their hand around her neck, tugging her even closer, eyes searching hers with an intensity so palpable it could be cut with a knife. Their hands roam over her like they'd been itching to explore her for a while now and god had they ever been. They'd been absolutely thirsting for it.

"Safeword. Let me hear it."

"I don't know, fucking lime?"

She and Jordan look at each other silently, the hand on the clock ticking ahead before both burst into laughter, Jordan's hands gripping her hips tightly within their palms, the way they look at each other intense, heated, and filled with mutual affection for the other party. "Lime? Fucking lime?"

"You asked for a safeword, I panicked!"

"Yeah?" Their finger trails down her neckline, eyes locking on hers, hands moving her hips in time with their thrusts, a low groan tumbling out of their lips, fingers digging into her asscheeks, pulling as close as they could get her. Closer, if possible.

The way her words die out on her lips, their free hand wrapping around her neck, taking in Y/n's scent, they get closer.

"God you're so fucking cute. Look at that, you're speechless for once in your life. No talking back right now, sweetheart?"

"You...I want you to kiss my ass." She responds, but her voice is weakened, an air of vulnerability washing over her. Jordan catches onto it without much effort on their part, one look at the poor thing and it was clear she was nothing more than putty in their hands. Melting right between their fingers.

"You and I both know you can do better than that. You have done better than that...Where's that spark now, doll?"

Their hand reaches down to pinch her clit between their fingers, breath ghosting over their lips, a shit-eating mischievous-looking smirk on their face, they can practically feel her ending begin.

"Speak up, baby. Be loud for me."

Their hips angle for her g-spot, and with a particularly hard push, they feel her clench around them, cock twitching sensitively when she grips them like a vice and she obliges their requests, singing a pretty little song, all for their utter euphoria.

The way her face twists up, eyebrows knitting, and eyes squeezed tight, lips parted to let a scream out, one so desperately needy it sends them over the edge immediately, their seed spilling into the witch and arms grabbing her tighter without any intent to let go.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

They had to spar the day after, the little witch could feel her limbs aching with every step she'd taken and unfortunately it was only going to get worse; She could see Jordan looking at her with a determination so familiar in their gaze that it made her shiver. She knew she wasn't safe despite what had happened last night.

"Seriously?" She glances at them, narrowing her eyes their way.

"You're not safe because you're sexy, get your ass up."

Y/n silently nods to herself, standing up to get herself prepared, sighing airily, that familiar confident grin shows up on her face. "Fine. Let me beat your ass and shut you the fuck up."

"That shouldn't be so... C'mon, let's go. You're going down, freshie."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: happy 21st birthday to me bitchhhh!!!!!!!!!!! here's my lil late lil birthday fic I guess <33.

[strawberry-circus]

One thing that I’ve noticed about The Boys is how they treat parental love.

Watching the newest season and Gen V, it made me realize the perfect way they portray a specific type of abusive parent. Both Homelander and Dean Shetty love their kids, and it’s heartbreaking to know that fact because it’s so easy to write off relationships or cut someone off when you believe that they don’t love you.

Ryan and Cate know with everything in them that their parental figures love them, but Cate knows and Ryan is starting to realize that they can’t fix them. There is something deep within their parents that makes them hurt people. And that all of the love that they may feel towards them will never stop them from hurting their kids.

In Homelander’s case it comes from this deep selfish desire to see himself reflected in everything, to the point where he falls apart if things don’t go the way he wants. This causes him to lash out and explode. He is trying for Ryan, but he’s so genuinely sick and twisted you don’t know when he’s going to lose control.

Dean Shetty has been so blinded by what Homelander did to her that she created an entire program built around the idea of killing all supes. Yet she still loves Cate. She still reaches out and sees the kindness within her that nobody does. She hates everything that Cate is, but she sees Cate as a helpless little animal who had bad owners. She loves Cate, but she will never accept her.

It’s hard enough to know that your parents are awful people, it’s worse to know that through it all you are still their favorite child.

[pinkcrocss]

On Cate "Apologists"...

Okay... It's gotten to the point where the Cate Infantilization and apologia is getting annoying.

I thought the show did a decent job of portraying a sympathetic and complex character, but... she is still a villain. People are allowed to dislike her and she is not the biggest victim in the show by a long shot.

Also, people that keep saying "she's just a kid"... she's a college junior. She's supposed to be like 20-21 years old.

I get that that is still pretty young and a lot of her trauma happened when she was a kid. But she is still an adult that can be accountable for her actions.

She shares the exact same coded yt-supremicist ideals as homelander (similar blonde haired/blue eyed features are not a coincidence), and even if it came from trauma, so did Homelander and Shetty's actions... so?

Y'all hate Shetty cuz she tortured supes and wanted to enact a genocide due to her trauma and misplaced hatred? Wtf was Cate doing in the last episode?

Most of the human staff at Godolkin are not aware of the woods. They are also victim to Vought's propaganda and Cate is aware of this. Yet she intentionally massacres them and uses her powers to influence people to do it for her.

She continuously violates people's consent and bodily autonomy (despite being a victim of SA herself). If she had been able to touch Jordan and cause them to hurt Marie (or Marie to hurt them in self-defense), what do you think that would have done to either of them psychologically?

I actually don't hate Cate (although her growing fandom is starting to push me in that direction), and I was fine with the "Yass queen! Villain lady iconic!" type of discourse when I thought y'all were just kidding...

But now that it's starting to bleed into racism towards Marie and Andre, transphobia towards Jordan, and just the most pea-brained, no nuanced misinterpretations of the show's themes and messaging, I think we need to step back for a minute. Y'all are starting to sound like the gender-swapped version of the boys fans that worship homelander and think *he* is the actual hero of the story.

It also doesn't surprise me that the worst offender of this is a Swiftie. Because when we talk about the infantilization of a powerful, white woman as a precursor to racism... 👀

That being said: No hate to normal T-swift fans (I actually grew up on her music too) but the coincidence was too obvious to not point out.

And I have no issue with like MarieCate shippers, fan artists or anyone that's engaging with Cate's character in a normal, nuanced way... but a good chunk of y'all need to get a grip.

I've really been enjoying the Gen V fandom (small as it is), and i would hate to see it go the way of the greater boys fandom.

[aneveningsword]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write sub Jordan li with a dom reader, where the reader gets jealous of someone flirting with Jordan

And can there be Smut if you write smut

Only if you're comfortable with it. Thank you

Hi anon!! I love this request, I mainly focused on fem!Jordan but if you want I am happy to do a mas!Jordan verison

pairing: Jordan Li x gn! reader warnings: not proofread, badly written smut (I am very sorry) words: 1008 summary: basically the ask

masterlist

You had always felt secure in your relationship with Jordan, you knew they would never cheat because they knew no one could fuck them as good as you. While your relationship just started as a way to let off stress for the both of you, it soon developed into true feelings. You knew you liked Jordan more than a fuck buddy and they knew they liked you more too. Yet, the pair of you were hesitant to put a label on what you had, afraid it might ruin things.

It wasn't unusual for your small friend group to frequent clubs and bars at night, looking for a different way to release all the stress from school. Most of the time you simply frequent the bar, eyes watching over the crowd, only dancing when Cate or Marie would come over and drag you into the crowd, not that you minded.

But tight there was a sight that made the grip on your drink a little tighter, had your jaw locked in anger. It wasn't often that people approached Jordan, it was a bit of a surprise given how attractive they were. But you guessed it had to do with the way they always seemed annoyed and disinterested in everything around them.

But it seemed someone was feeling brave tonight, perhaps aided by some liquid courage. You watched their hands roam a little too low as they danced with Jordan, how they were whispering filthy things in their ear hoping to get a reaction. You couldn't get a clear read on Jordan's face, but it was clear they didn't dislike the attention they were receiving.

Downing the rest of your drink, you made your way through the crowd, eyes never leaving the pair. Upon reaching them your hand would interlace with Jordan's as you pulled them to your side in one swift movement. A noise of surprise left them, but their words died in their throat as they took note of the jealousy swirling in your eyes as you stared at them.

"You mind? We were chatting." The harsh voice of the drunkard abused your eyes as you looked at them unamused. You wished you had the power to blow up people with your eyes, but sadly you were not graced with such a gift. Leaving you to settle for the harsh glare and burning hate that were in your eyes.

"Yeah? Sure didn't look like it." Jordan was silent next to you, hand still wrapped in yours. This was a part of their little plan to get you to fuck their brains out tonight. Get you all jealous and riled up, by entertaining some drunk idiot, and it had worked perfectly.

"Come on." Your voice left no room for argument as you basically dragged a grinning Jordan out of the club. You had barely a few meters from the club before you pulled them down an alley and pushed them against the brick wall. The noise from the club could still be heard despite the thick wall.

"You're such a fucking slut." Your voice is low, face so close that if they pushed forward just a little they could capture their lips with yours. But you knew that, hand on their hips holding them in place to make sure they didn't try and ruin your fun.

"Hmm? So fucking desperate that you'd go home with anyone?" The question brought a small frown to their face but you knew there was no negative emotion behind it. "No, I just-" They began in an attempt to defend themself but you quickly cut them off. "Just what? Wanted to make me jealous? Well, consider it done."

Within an instant your lips were on theirs in a passionate kiss, the hand on their hip pulling their body flush against yours, as your free hand rests on the side of their neck to deepen the kiss. Their hand tangles in your hair, and a soft moan escape them from the contact. This is what they had been wanting all night.

Breaking the kiss, your mouth began to trail kiss along their neck, leaving small bites here and there pulling soft noises from Jordan. You feel their hands begin to drift over your body, hands finding the helm of your shirt as they begin to lift it up hoping to slip their hands under. Detaching from them your hands wrap over theirs, stopping their action.

A small, mocking pout plays on your lips as you speak "I don't think I remember saying you could touch me. You wanna be a brat, I'll treat you like a brat." Your voice is stern as you pull their hands from your shirt. One hand moves to grope their breast while the other hangs onto one of their hands. While this was just meant to be a quick fuck, you knew Jordan likes to feel your hands intertwined together. The action grounded them as things got heated.

Your lips are back on their as you shallow their moans, sandwiching them between your body and the wall. You bully your thigh in between their legs, knee pressed hard against the cold bricks. Detaching from them you move to whisper in their ear "Come on baby, grind down on my thigh. I know you want to."

It seemed it was your permission they were wanting, as within an instant they were rolling their hips on your thigh letting out the most pathetic little noises that sounded like music to your ears. Your mouth moved to begin leaving marks on their neck, marking them up to show who they belonged to.

Your fingers pinch their nipples as you need the flesh there. It was not long before the stimulation was going to be too much for Jordan, their whines only increasing in volume and pitch. Just as they were about to reach their high, your thigh dropped from between their legs, leaving them cold and empty.

"You really think I was going to let you off that easy? Baby, you've been bad."

[ser-rctslcyer]

Pairing: Jordan Li x GN!/ENBY! Reader Word Count: 2.3k Synopsis: This upcoming Valentine’s day is the perfect time to ask your crush out– unless you were Jordan who had no clue where to begin because their crush. Warnings: Not Canon Compliant, Fluff and Mush, Crushes, Lack of Communication, Valentine’s Day, Dialogue Heavy (chatty cathy college kids) A/N: I wrote this last minute and severe needing sleep but I have been desperate to write about them. 

The second bell rang and Jordan was quick to get up out of their seat and out the door. Their mind weighed heavily on them, as they trudged through the halls; using their smaller frame to navigate through the busy halls with ease. Fingers fiddling with the volume controls of their music, they rolled their eyes at all the grotesque pink, white and red streamers along with the copious amounts of paper hearts. Valentine’s Day had of course, taken up every free real estate on campus and they could not escape it no matter wherever they looked. 

It had sucked, not because they hated the holiday; hell, they usually got the best treats around this time. What bothered them wasn’t unfortunately going to change any time soon and so this Valentine’s was again going to be another bust. Jordan stopped in front of a water fountain to refill their bottle, they caught a familiar set of leather gloves. 

“So, have you confessed your undying love for them yet?” Cate questioned, leaning in as she whispered the last part. 

“First of all, it was just going to be a date first,” they sighed; rolling their eyes at their friend’s familiar know it all smile. 

“And then tell them you’ve spent  the last four years pining over them endlessly?” 

“Cate.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited for you. You deserve to have a nice time with the person you’ve been crushing on since freshman year..” she spoke sincerely, which made Jordan tense up. It still felt weird to have people genuinely rooting for them and not backhandedly attacking the parts of themselves they held so dear. They shake away the feeling focusing back on their friends words before looking at their feet. 

“You did ask them out, right? Jordan?” Cate inquired, moving closer to 

“Jordan?” they couldn’t ignore their name for a second time and looked back to her furrorwed brows. 

“I froze, okay!” Jordan sighed, dropping their shoulder before slugging off down the hall. 

“Jordan!” they heard the call from behind them and knew it was going to be a long talk. Each click of her boots getting closer filled them with a little sense of dread as they mentally prepared themselves for a time of questioning. 

“I was getting there, about to ask them but then I got freaked out and changed the conversation,” they huffed, turning to look at Cate while still keeping a steady walking pace.

“What did you do with your gifts?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair to smooth it out. 

“Stuffed them back into my backpack when they weren't looking at me.”

“Oh, you are so hopeless,” she made a sad puppy face and Jordan rolled their eyes. 

“I am aware but you don’t have to say it aloud,” they pinched the bridge of their noses, and shook their head. 

“I feel like I do because you’re siking yourself out.”

“How could I be psyching myself out, when I’m not even sure if they’re interested in my like that.” 

“You two talk well enough already? What’s the difference if you do it during a date?” she pressed, and Jordan was thankfully that the hall they were walking down had no other students walking through it. 

“Maybe the fact we barely talk face to face outside of class and class projects? Or the fact I am not even sure they like me? Or if they do, do they have a preference? There’s a lot of things that could go wrong, Cate!” they bellowed, gritting their teeth a small bit as they tried not to switch themselves to their male form. 

“True, but that’s just dating in general! It can be a little tricky.”

“But it’s 10 times worst if I fuck up,” they threw their arms into the air, dropping them sadly as they stopped walking. It was silent for a moment, which they hated because like coming off as an callous dick; nor did they really want to be stuck in their own thoughts at this current moment. As they slow their breathing, a hand comes to their shoulder and they catch the apologetic look from Cate. 

“I know it seems really scary but that’s just how love works. It’s also not like your going into this completely estranged and unknowing,” she reassured, clapping her hands together.

“Elaborate,” they mumbled, kicking their feet out as they walked slowly. The two of them were bond to be late for their next class but it ceased to matter at this point. 

“The two of you have been talking since you both got here, and have genuine conversations with one another. Also don’t the two of you text?” she asked; totalling the amount they communicated on her fingers. 

“Mhm.”

“See! You two are definitely in different circles but you both still manage to keep up with each other.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean munch. I’m not seeing how this helps me ask them out?”

“Ugh you can be quiet the bore sometimes,” Cate poked their side which made them jerk and they give her a glare. “Well since you want me to give you the cliffnotes I will; there is a good chance, possibly slim, that they also like you,” a smug grin crosses their face, as Jordan’s mouth drops in disbelief. 

“Now you’re just making shit up,” they concluded, trying to shake the feeling of their heart pounding in their chest. 

“I’m being serious! No one would keep up that well with someone who’s just a classmate. No student ever is that dedicated to working outside of class on school projects with people they don’t know? Neither of you would have been chatting for this long if it didn’t mean there was something there,” she explained, her words making the hopefully gears in their brain turn with ferocity. 

Cate was at least onto something because they didn’t keep up with half of the other classmates that they also chatted with. If that was really true, did you still like them now? Why hadn’t you said anything before? They don’t get much time to ponder their thoughts before Cate wants to interrupt them again.

“Listen to me–”

“Hey, Jordan,” a voice called, a voice they had already been dying to hear since yesterday afternoon. They turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of you walking over to them; their frame growing in a few sizes as you reached them.

“Oh hey,” the blonde turned, stealthy nudging them; an unnoticed jab about how quickly they shifted.

“Hi Cate,” you greeted, as kind as ever even though the two of you barely spoke. Your eyes go back to them and Jordan nearly wants to crawl in a hole as a part of them felt bad for talking about you.

“Are you still free after your classes today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was hoping we could maybe finish the rest of Mr. Pittman’s science work, if that’s cool with you?” you added, pulling your bag closer to you as he grinned. 

“Mr. Pittman? I thought that wasn’t due till next Friday?” Cate questioned. 

“It isn’t but I like to get a head a bit to clear up some of my schedule.”

“Fair enough,” she smiled, and you nodded back. 

“So?”

“Yeah, I’m all yours,” Jordan agreed quickly, and just as faast they regretted that word choice. They barely see your eye twitch but your usual happy look doesn’t fade. 

“Awesome, I’ll swing by you dorm once I’m off work.,” you confirm before starting your way off back in the direction you came. “Bye Jordan, bye Cate!”

“Bye,” the two said in unison, waving until you had rounded the corner across campus.

“I’m all yours?” Cate’s teasing voice turned back on, along with another poke in the side to which they huffed out.

“Shut up.”

“You are so down bad,” she chuckled, pulling her hair up into a bun. 

“I know, shut up.”

“Look you now have the perfect opportunity to ask them out; today is now or never.”

“Ugh, I’m going to class!” they cursed, heading away as the bell rang again. 

It was by a thread, Jordan resisted tearing up their entire closet to find a more suitable outfit for tonight. It didn’t need to be anything fancy but something that would be appealing; and so they settled on a plain black sweater with plaid pants.They flutter between forms unsure of how to present until they on their male form.  They paced around their dorm for a moment, trying to not let their nerves get the best of them when there was a knock on the door. 

“Hi.” they greeted and you smiled. 

“Hi.” You stepped into the door as you always do, with ease as you had already been here a million times before. They notice the little extra package you carry, something you didn’t usually have but he couldn’t place from where. 

“Is your fridge clear?”

“Mhm, there’s only a few cans of beer in there; been meaning to restock,” they answered, moving over to open it for you. As they watched you set everything down, they caught how neat the bought was designed, clearly something that was pretty pricey. “What’s that?”

“Oh, a cake! Was thinking I could use something sweet for today,” you grin to yourself as you slide it in carefully. 

“Ah right, Valentine’s Day.”

‘Really Jordan?’ they wanted to curse themselves out into all oblivion, but they held it all back with the bite of their tongue. 

“You can have a piece if you’d like; but preferably when we’re all finished up with our work,” you put your hand on your shoulder. Jordan shivers and drops their head, not wanting you to see their elated grin. 

“Wouldn’t want to ruin the sweets with science homework,” they chuckle, causing you own pretty chuckle. 

“No we wouldn’t.”

Studying usually came with a bit of ease to them, as most of the time they didn’t have a hard time focusing on what task was put in front of them. This time however felt impossible as Cate’s words were floating in their head. 

“Is something wrong?” you chimed, not quite looking away from what your doing but you do glance up at them

“Hmm?”

“You keep looking over, do you need something?”

“Um, well,,, actually maybe I do,” they run their fingers through their hair; looking away toward the door. 

“Oh? What did you need to ask me?” you inquired, giving them your full attention as you set your journal aside.  

“Would you like, to maybe go out tonight?” their eyes race over your face, watching for any and every little expression. “As in like a date,” they conclude, awkwardly but at this point there was no other way this would come out. They had done this proposal a million times over in their head to make it perfect, but of course that only worked if they had done the rest of their plan.

“I- I yeah, I’d love to,” you answer makes their eyes widen.  

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you nod vigorously; tugging a fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. “Is that not the answer you were looking for?”

“No, no, no. I didn’t think you would honestly say yes,” they bit back their idiotic smile. 

“Could I show you something?” you asked and Jordan nodded, watching as you got up and pulled the mystery cake box from the fridge. As you got to the bed, you opened the lid, careful tilting it down to the them to show a pretty pink and white cake with the words ‘would you be mine’ written in red icing on top. They looked between you and the cake, excitement building within them as you gave a small smile. 

“I also was going to ask you out today,” you closed the lid, carefully put the cake back up, “but it looks like you beat me too it.” You got back on the bed, sitting a closer to them before you spoke again. 

“I figured since it was our last year it was either now or never since we’ll graduate, and–”

They can’t let you finish as they cup your face; kissing you with everything they have. Their lips moves tenderly, their tongue swiping the inside of your mouth in joy. It felt even better when you pulled them closer by the hem of their sweater. A low groan leaves them as you kiss back with the same boldness, pushing and rubbing yourself against them freely. They shudder, a pit forming in their stomach burning full of desire. 

Jordan quickly pins you down on the bed, taking advantage of the momentum to deepen the kiss. Your moan reverbates in their mouth, and goes straight down which makes them press their hips to yours. There’s no longer any words left between you, as you roll your hips up against theirs. Jordan’s head buzzes for a moment and you take this chance to flip them over so their under your instead. They look up at you, wide eyed and wet lipped as they switch to their fem form and stay there. 

“We can finish it later,” you breath deeply, brushing you lips over their jaw. 

“Are you sure?” they panted, squeezing your hips; trying to have some self control and not roll their hips. 

“Yeah, the only reason I wanted to get it done was just incase you said no and I needed to cry my eyes out for a week,” you chuckle softly, which made their heart sink a little. They push themselves up more, enough to where they can grab your chin and pull you down for another kiss. 

“You’ll never have to do that.”

“I hope not,” you grin, nuzzling your noses against theirs. 

“I fucking promise, baby,” they steal another kiss, making sure to nip at your lip before pulling away, “I’ve waited too long for this.”

“So have I,” you tug at their longer hair, tilting their head up and kissing over their neck and letting go. “We’re probably not gonna make dinner huh?”

“No probably not,” they chuckle, trailing their kisses over your collarbones. 

“Would you mind, if I stay the night?” Jordan knows you already know the answer but they don’t mind showing you with a nice drawn out kiss. 

“Never.”

[comradekarin]

Daemon was possibly worst off that Alicent and Rhaenyra in the repetitive scene front and yet he managed to gather the biggest land army TB has. Jacaerys secured key alliances with the North, Vale and the Twins & suggested a more stable version of the dragonseed plan. Aemond is hadcore carrying Team Black. Cole had managed to basically cut Dragonstone by land and his plan took down the most dangerous dragon the Blacks had. They Did Stuff, amidst having their own emotional character arcs and they have made moves that are logical and further their causes. The biggest thing Rhaenyra did was a desperate ritual sacrifice, giving dragons to guy she doesn't know anything of and one of which is very obvious loose cannon. The most significant thing Alicent did was... sell her entire side off, which kinda goes against her previous characterization. Rhaenys? Died the silliest death, by being a experienced dragon rider that allowed a downed lizard the size of a building to sneak up on her. Rhaena left All her resposibilities, to go chase a dragon in the dumbest way possible, without any forethought; the amount of plot armor required for a girl without provisions to survive IN THE VALE (where raiders are plentiful, remember Cate and Co having to fight back in GoT) in colder times. There' a pretty big difference in how men and women were portrayed and I wouldn't call the show particularly feminist, despite the overexposition of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

anon, you perfectly articulated my thoughts. the men in the show are able to have their own emotional arcs without it hindering the execution of their end goals. on the other hand, all the female characters follow this identical “no violence” prototype that actually harms not just their relationship with other characters but the narrative itself. and what’s worse is that a few of these female characters are portrayed differently than their season 1 counterparts. in season 2, there are a lot of contradictions and inconsistent characterizations that don’t serve a narrative purpose. and this is not to say that all of the men are perfectly written, either, nor am i trying to imply that rational characters are inherently good characters. but, all of the choices the female characters are making aren’t reflective of their season one traits, let alone the books. and these choices are being made so we can stick with this narrative that “its the men that are violent, and all the women are trying to navigate around them”. it’s silly. i go further into how exactly here.

i do wonder what we mean when we say a piece of film is “feminist” though. just because female characters are centered in a show doesn’t inherently mean a work is inherently feminist. as you said, rhaenyra and alicent do have the most screentime in the show yet nothing of substance is really created with that time. how can the show even be seen as “feminist” when the women are reduced to these one dimensional archetypes that don’t move the plot forward.

furthermore, how many times can the writers get away with the narrative that “fire and blood is ambiguous and not wholly rooted in truth”? it’s true, yes, but they are using this to make drastic changes to characters and plots that don’t even make sense half the time. it’s just bad writing. yet when i bring up how drastic the writing between the male and female characters are in the show differ, everyone throws a fit. it’s not wrong to have critiques, especially when the writing choices made in the show resemble one of fanfiction. at what point does “taking creative liberty” turn into “writing what i want to see”?

again, this is not me hating the show per se. i still have my own favorite characters, favorite moments, and favorite dynamics. i just wish the intentions with the female characters were there. how the writers baited the audience into thinking this would be the case with the season one finale just for it to not turn out to be true? it’s just wild to me.

[radiant-reid]

hii could u write a blurb about spencer - he doesn’t REALLY need his glasses, he’s gone without them for months but reader has to start wearing prescription glasses and hates it. so to make her feel better, spence starts to wear his glasses too (THIS IS BASC HIM IN HIS SEASON 2 ERA GLASSES) thanks cate! always appreciate ur writings <3

Thank you <3

Although you didn’t hate them as much as you hated every other pair in store, you still hated the glasses you were being forced to wear. Stupid FBI policy dictates that you have to get your eyes checked every year, and after avoiding last year’s by joining the BAU team after, this year you failed. Which means you’re stuck wearing glasses until your contacts arrive.

And of course, Spencer, your work crush, notices on the elevator ride up to the sixth floor. “I like your glasses.” He compliments.

You don’t even consider that he could truly mean it. Past experience tells you that boys don’t like girls that wear glasses. They don’t make you look cool like Penelope’s make her look, you just think they make you look nerdy.

“Thanks.” You say, trying to shut the conversation down.

Spencer notices that, too, and he begins to notice you talking less to avoid drawing attention to yourself and ducking your head when you’re introduced to people. Even Morgan won’t tease you about it.

So he starts wearing his. The first day you see them on him when he walks in for a briefing, you think it’s a joke. “Really, Reid?” You ask, glaring at him.

It only confuses everyone. It’s hard to look at him and be upset when he looks so adorable in his glasses, so you ignore him the whole case briefing.

He catches up with you near your desk once Hotch calls wheels up. “You know I need my glasses too.” He tells you. It’s half-true. He needs something to help him see properly, but that’s usually contacts, and he’s not going to tell you that.

“Do you actually?” You ask flatly. “Or is this a joke.”

“I’m not really a joking type of person.” He replies, not giving you an answer. “But I’m not wearing them to make fun of you. You don’t seem to like how yours look so I thought that if I wore mine, you wouldn’t feel… alone. I don’t know, it was stupid.” He quickly backtracks.

You shake your head, reaching out to grab his arm before he can step away. “Thank you.” You say. “I appreciate it. I just don’t think they suit me.”

“For what it’s worth, I think they make you look really pretty.” It’s worth a lot, but he doesn’t need to know just how much yet.

[aemiron-main]

Gay Mike Wheeler Posts

The OG ‘if Will Is Gay Men Who Die By Hate Crimes, Mike Is Gay Men Who Die By Suicide’ And Hypervisible Vs Invisible Gay Men And Ted Wheeler’s Ignorance Post (x)

If Mike Ever Actually Loved El/Even Just Had A Crush On Her, Why Didn’t He Use The Moment He Actually Fell In Love With Her As Part Of His Monologue Instead Of Claiming It Was Love At First Sight? (x)

The Rainbow Lens Flare On Top Of Mike In The Shed (x)

Mike Thinks Will Had A Crush On Angela (x)

Mike’s Figuring Out What Romantic Love Actually Is/Feels Like (x)

Mike’s Sweetie Pie and Phoebe Cates Expression (x)

Mike Calling El Pretty Isn’t Meant To Be Romantic (x)

The 60 Minutes Namedrog And Its AIDs Themed Episode (x)

El Kisses Mike The Same Way The Fleshflayer Flays People (x)

We’ve Seen This Setup With Will Behind Mike And El Before (x)

Initial Post About Mike’s Crush on Eddie (x)

Watch Where You’re Going, Frogface (x)

Flying Around In Fairyland With All The Other Fairies: Mike And The Fairy Wings (x)

Why Am I So Confident About Gay Mike? Do I Think I Can See The Future? (x)

Women and Bullshit Media Propaganda (x)

Heteronormativity and Troy Pushing Mike (x)

If Mike Was Ever Attracted To El Then What Was The Point Of The Mileven Familial Parallels/References From The Start? (x)

Mike, The Rainbow Jazzercise Sign and George Michael (x)

Mike’s Playlist and Frankie Goes To Hollywood (x)

Mike’s Playlist and Level 42 (x)

Mike’s Playlist, Limahl, and Neverending Story (x)

Mike’s Playlist, Michael, and Franz Ferdinand (x)

Another Gay Vs Bi Mike Ask (x)

More Gay Mike Ranting (x)

Mike, The Sauna, and the Lingerie Store Scene (x)

Initial Post About The Hellfire Club As An Allegory For Queerness (x)

There Is No Actual Mike Will El Love Triangle (x)

Another Rant About Elmike and Gay Mike (x)

Max’s Rainbow Sleeves And Byler (x)

Gay Mike And The Coca Cola Kid (x)

How Gay Can We Write This Guy While Still Having People Think He’s Straight? (x)

Mike’s Expression Towards Dart vs Towards Phoebe Cates (x)

Mike and The Rainbow On The Muppets Movie Poster (x)

Mike Isnt Just Rebounding Into A New Relationship (x)

Mike’s Reaction To “Youve Made It Super Clear” vs to “You Dont Love Me Anymore?” (x)

I Loved You, I Loved All Of You (x)

A Rant About “Will You Be Like My Brother?” (x)

Reblog Regarding Mike’s Lack Of Attraction To Girls (x)

Quit Viewing Mike And His Sexuality Through A Will Lens: They Arent The Same Person (x)

Yet Another Gay Mike and Elmike Rant: Gay Mike Is Actually The Best/Most Amicable Ending For Mileven (x)

We’ve Been Seeing Gay Mike This Whole Time and It Doesnt Need Any Extra Long Winded Explanation (x)

[sjbattleangel]

Public Service Announcement: Please, stay away away from HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Chadfarsight*, KK4EverStuff, and Cohore.

*I'm aware Chadfaresight doesn't speak to HellYeahHeroes anymore but she's still responsible for spewing the very same toxicity.

HellYeahHeroes/HellYeahTeenSuperHeroes, Ubernegro, Chadfarsight, Cohore and others are the most vile, most pettiest, most hateful people who have no right to call themselves "comic fans".

[Trigger warning for screencaps in the links] They will personally target comic writers using hyperbolic, personal attacks on them: Disgusting insults, making horrible assumptions of them like calling them "Hacks" multiple times, along with "Pussys", "eugenists", "homophobes", "perverts", "mysoginysts", "sex offenders", "cowards", "rape apologists", "fascist sympathizers", "Nazi apologists", "dog f***ers", telling them to "lick goats" and more.

The way they talk about writers like Jason Aaron, Jonathan Hickman, Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenburg, Dan Slott, Donny Cates, Brian Michael Bendis, James Tynion IV, Scott Snyder, Joshua Williamson and others, it's clear that they hate them solely as people. In fact, they have held a deep personal hatred for them WAY before they read any of their works. Yet they will happily mask what is clearly a bloody vendetta against people ,who never harmed them, under a smokescreen of "criticising crappy writing" and wanting their favourite characters "treated with respect".

KK4EverStuff has gone on to send death threats and wish harm upon creators, it's very possible HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Cohore and Chadfarisght have done so too.

Please, report and block them. They are the most hate-filled toxic people to ever exist in the comic fandom.

Eventually, My friend Samasmith23 and I bumped into @Majingojira and told him HellYeahHeroes and co.'s behaviour since he is their friend. Because of his more chilled, open-minded attitude, we thought he would listen to us and condemn this behaviour but instead...

...he just kept shifting the goalposts; using whataboutisms: Like "Oh, HYH doesn't talk about comics anymore", "KK isn't a member of our group", "That was old stuff", "he (Samasmith) should hold SJBattleAngel to a similar standard", "Screencaps as ammunition is a C*micsgate tactic" and others.

He then suggested that I "fabricated" the screenshots.

But worst of all?

He made excuses for their abhorrent behaviour towards creators. He dismissed our calls for acountability as "tone-policing", being "puritanical", operating under "Tumblr Morality" ect.

He even excused HYH and co's attacking of comic writers by saying: "Complaining about insults towards creators is rich when creators themselves are generally okay with its existence. Just don't do it to their face."

NO.

Calling for innocent creators to be fired is NEVER "okay"!

Telling them to "lick goats" is NEVER "okay"!

Attacking them as "perverts", "eugenists", "fascism apologists" is NEVER "okay"!

Encouuraging harrasment against them NEVER, NEVER "okay"!

Sending them literal death threats is NEVER, NEVER, NEVER "okay"!

Majingojira turns a blind eye to toxic fan harassment and, by doing so, enables it. Stay away from him.

I've wrote to multiple comic/nerd/fandom blogs on Tumblr, telling them about HellYeahHeroes's and his friend's toxicity; asking them to shame this sort of behaviour. But most never reply back. They probably think I'm some sort of "troll" trying to "start drama". And I don't blame them, HellYeahHeroes, Majingojira, Ubernegro and others are some of the most beloved, well-respected comics/social justice bloggers on this website, I understand looking up to someone thinking they could never do any wrong. I know because I was once one of those people.

You know, this takes a toll on my mental health: Trying to tell people that some of the most revered members of our communities are actually horrible pieces of work, but they don't believe you. It's like being trapped in a room all alone, with no door. You scream the truth at the walls, hoping a door will appear. But it never does, and you're stuck forever with no-one to hear your cries. And it hurts. This pain of never being believed.

I hope you all understand.

I just want our community to be safe and healthy. Please, believe me.

Dear @Hellyeahheroes, @ubernegro, @farsight-the-char @Cohore,

The way you targeted and demonized creators like Dan Slott, Tom King, Donny Cates, Jonathan Hickman, Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenburg, Grant Morrison, Jason Aaron, Brian Micheal Bendis, Adam Glass, Tom Taylor, Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Joshua Williamson, Rian Johnson, Neil Druckman was just disgusting and horrible. You have every right to dislike their work but to personally attack and vilify them is unacceptable! They are not "misogynists", they are not "creeps", "they are not "racists", they are not "antisemites", they are not "eugenists", they are not "fascist sympathizers", they are not "Nazi apologists", they are not "closeted Neo-Nazis" but most of all: They are not "hacks!"

To @Hellyeahheroes, @ubernegro, @farsight-the-char, @Cohore,: Seeing your disturbing parasoical hatred of creators like Slott, King, Cates, Hickman, Brisson, Rosenburg, Aaron, Bendis, Snyder, Tynion Williamson, it's clear that outside of comics, way before you read any of their work you've always held a personal vendetta against them as people.

Why? Did they personally hurt you or your loved ones? Did they ruin your lives? Even if they did, that gives you no right to email them countless death threats!

I don't know what you think but personally attacking these writers and sending them death threats will not magically undo the likes of One More Day, Robin: One Year Later, Avengers Academy: Arena, Avengers Undercover, Heroes In Crisis! No! Your actions are the very reason people see nerd fandom as a toxic cesspool of bullying and entitlement. And you're just proving them right!

Apologise, do better or leave.

Tell Lily Orchard, CinemaSins and Mr. Plinkett I said hi.

[literaryspinster]

5 years earlier

Last night was fun, probably a little too much fun. Marie Moreau might be a grade grubbing, social climbing pain in the ass (pot meet kettle, they know), but she sure can dance, not to mention kiss. And she’s the sort of pretty that knocks them on their ass every time. Dancing with her at the club wasn’t the plan, the plan was to glare at her from across the floor while silently resenting Luke for inviting her along, but after a few too many drinks, and lines of coke and a shot of Molly for good measure, something weird happened.

Breathy and glistening from a straight half hour of sexy dancing with Cate, Marie came up to them, similarly loosy goosy from various substances that only Supes could safely metabolize. And she took their hand, her stacked silver rings clicking against theirs.

“Come on, do something spontaneous for once in your life, dance with the girl you hate.”

“I don’t hate you,” they said.

“Could have fooled me.” She said as she led them up from their chair and to the thumping, strobe lit heart of the club. She didn’t take no for an answer, but also, it wasn't certain that they actually said no in the first place. 

The DJ was playing Capsize, a song they liked a lot more without the dancehall bells and whistles, and yet, in the moment, it wasn’t so hard to be carried by it.They were hypnotized by the sounds and the constant motion around them, and by the girl in their arms oscillating like troubled water.

Up at night I'm awake cause it haunts me/That I never got to say what I wanted/Oh my God, oh my God/I’m not the same as I was with you/I would jump out my skin just to get you/Oh my God, oh my God

Her voice rose above the music, “You know, it makes me mad sometimes, how handsome you are.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I only mean because you’re such a dick.”

And they didn’t really know why, probably because they were both obliterated at the time, but Jordan laughed, a genuine, almost sweet laugh, because it wasn’t everyday someone called them a dick and it sounded like a term of endearment. Also, it wasn’t lost on them that handsome was another word she used. Being called handsome chafed sometimes, it only fit part of their story. But it was also the only part they chose to share with her, or anyone for that matter.

Jordan wasn’t much for dancing, on the occasions someone convinced them to get up and move to blaring EDM, they relied on guarded, understated moves, a head bop here, a shoulder sway there. But her closeness, and her scent and her big brown eyes looking right into theirs as her wrists rested against their neck, made them want to lose themselves in the machine beat, let their hips and their hands move more than a conservative amount.

I'm fine/Drop tears in the morning/Give in to the lonely/Here it comes with no warning/Capsize, I'm first in the water/Too close to the bottom/I'm right back where I started/Said I'm fine

“I don’t hate you either,” she leaned in to say into their ear. And before she could pull back, Jordan’s lips landed on hers, almost as if by accident, like they had a thought and acted on it before their common sense could catch up. They’d blame it on the drugs, they’d pretend in the morning that it meant nothing, because a kiss didn’t matter much at the end of the day, not even one as good as that. 

Something about the way she opened her mouth along with theirs made Jordan’s head float away, swallowed by the music and the feel of her soft curves under their hands, and before they knew what was happening they were sucking the space beneath her ear like a horny vampire, they were calling an uber, they were backing her into her her dorm room and untying the little laces on her top, they were laying her down on the blankets.

It was more than a fun night, it may have been the best night. But it’s over now, time to get up, get dressed, drink a full gallon of water and drag their ass to class…

…except this isn’t their dorm room, because when they peel their eyes open Marie is looking down at them, her preternaturally expressive face skewed in unmistakable confusion. They’re still in her room, and the Jordan she brought here is noticeably different from the Jordan she’s looking at right now.

Shit shit fuck. This is why they don’t fall asleep with people.

They launch up from the bed, wrapping the sheet around their chest, they would switch back but they aren’t sure if the fact that they can turn from a boy to a girl is more comforting than the possibility that a random woman sneaked into her room in the middle of the night.

“Jordan slow down, just tell me what’s going on. Is this not the first time this has happened?” 

She knows it’s them, maybe she saw them change while they were sleeping, maybe it’s because their jewelry is the same, or maybe she can sense it with her sweet ass powers, but she knows. Why are they still here? Why isn’t she freaking the fuck out and ordering them to leave right now? Sure she’s a supe, she knows that weirder things than this have happened, but as far as they know she’s never woken up next to those weirder things.

“I don’t know what happened, I’m never this careless. And I mean never.”

“Jordan, hey, come here, sit down.” 

After a few moments of hesitation, they obey. They aren’t really sure what else to do, they can’t exactly pretend this never happened, it’s not like they won’t see her in class in a few hours.

“So you mean this is just something you can do whenever you want?” She asks.

They shrug a shoulder in response, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s fucking rad, why don’t you tell people?” It’s not the response they were expecting, and yet somehow, it is. After all, she knows exactly what it’s like to have an ability that people don’t understand.

“I want to be in The Seven,” Jordan explains. “I want that more than anything and no matter how much they try to act like the greatest superheroes are all special and different, the less special and different they are, the better.” 

Of course that’s what they tell themselves, and it’s mostly the truth. But that wasn’t exactly how all of this self doubt started. It started the night of the robbery. Marie doesn’t need to hear all of that though.

“But–

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be anything okay?” They say, and switch back before they can get too used to this. “We both got pretty trashed last night and some stuff happened. We don’t need to talk about our secrets and our feelings. It’s cool.”

She looks almost hurt, and Jordan wants to say something else to make that look go away, but they can’t. This is for the best.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, and Jordan stands up to leave, holding the sheet in place, gathering up their clothes and thinking this is the end of whatever the hell this is.

But it isn’t the end, because they won’t be able to stop thinking about her. And a week from now they’ll be back in this room, kissing her on the bed, touching her, letting her touch them. And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. Their fate was sealed on that dance floor.

~From How To Be Liars In Love ch. 6

[toomanyopinionss]

GEN V

RANT ADDITION

bare with me please, i just finished episode 7 and i feel just everywhere rn

I’m gonna just come out and say this

the way the writers room is handling andre is pissing me off

you know it’s probably because there’s too many characters and too little time, but i cannot find that reason enough to let this shit slide.

Andre’s meant to be a main character, correct? i mean, he gets a good proportion of screen time, he says the lines, he’s got the nepotism and the daddy issues and whatever

but they never do anything about it?

i feel like i know so… little about this man, and he’s supposedly in love with cate, who’s apparently gearing to play a huge role in the story based on this most recent episode, and he’s a top student, yet we’ve seen barely ANYTHING from him power-wise. it’s just pissing me off, cause i love it when black people get to thrive and be the main characters.

it’s a problem when his dad is seizing on the stage and all i’m wondering is when jordan li is gonna come back on screen.

Like i liked him A LOT in the first episode. He felt so real and full of potential. His interactions with Golden Boy? *chefs kiss*

But it’s been a steady regression of his character since, and he’s taken a backseat to the blond white girlfriend. THERE i said it. hate me if you want to

let me be clear, i really like this show. a whole lot. like i’m obsessed (unhealthy).

But with this story and these amazing characters, i just feel sad that we only get 8 episodes, 40-45 minutes each to get to know and love them. like i feel like i JUST started this show yesterday, and it’s already almost over.

the short seasons are such a detriment to these types of shows. interesting side plot lines and relationships are forced to take a backseat for the story instead of both things going hand and hand like the lord intended, and a bitch is TIRED.

And hottake, but the writers should have let jordan li and marie moreau be the slow burn rivals to lovers they were meant to be, i said what i said.

anyways let me go lay down and process this properly.

[andrewthedeadly]

andre doesnt deserve all this hate in this essay i will-

watching everyone dig at andre for things literally every other main character has done and some of them have done worse LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Cate had an affair with him while with luke yet hes taking all the lashings even though he's not the one who cheated... (if it was reversed where luke cheated w someone who was his bsf ikkkk that we would never hear the end of it)

He accidentally killed someone at a party and ran. which everyone else did but Marie. and we all know god u would have severely punished them for this. And we have seen where supes who can't control their powers go. why would he have stayed when nobody else who knows how the supe world works did ????? your out high asf w ur friends accidentally kill someone with your powers which could result in you going to supe rehab for like to be tested on and lose ur entire life you staying ??? like lets b fr now ..

ppl talk about his dad and idk what yall want him to do about that beside not be born or sumn like. his ONLYYYY story and saving grace for his plot. is his daddy issues and powers killing him like please.

people are mad that the person with whom he was in a relationship (not sure if cheating/post-mortem cheating?? counts idk)they were friends at least was found out to be manipulating him and others ao they could be experimented on and locked up and now he can't even be mad at that bc the lil white girl cried about doing it !!