#don’t get me wrong she’s really pretty and I had fun drawing her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abbyromanoff · 1 year

Text

I’m sorry…(Trouble Chapter 4)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 3043

Warnings: smut, fingering, praise, angst, fluff, possessiveness, jealously, homophobia, secret relationships, R’s parents being assholes

Series here:

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

It had been nearing a week since the last time Nat called you, talked to you or even looked at you. You felt hopeless and alone, she had never been this distant with you, what did you do wrong? Whenever you tried thinking of all the possibilities of what you might’ve done to upset her, you came up empty. It had been dragging you down all week, and everyone had noticed it.

“So, Y/N, I was talking to our neighbor. You know Mrs. Barnes, right?” You nodded with a mouthful of food, putting a finger to your lips to signal to wait.

“Yeah, I know her. Her son is in a few of my classes.” She smiled between bites, giving hinting glances to your father who sat on the other end of the table. You were too caught up in your own mind, you couldn’t notice the clear meaning behind their shared looks.

“Well, she’s told me that her son is single. We thought it’d be perfect to set up a little something for you two.” Your head shot up, your angered expression not matching your mother's cheerful one.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t give me that look. Trust me, you’ll love it! We can go shopping for a pretty dress and you can get all dazzled up, you’ll look so beautiful.” Were you not beautiful without the dress or makeup? Apparently not, that’s only what boys cared about anyways.

“Mom, I appreciate it but I don’t really like Bucky like that.” You tried stating calmly, only for your annoyance to grow the more she spoke.

“Why not? He’s a very handsome young man, you two would look so cute together. Don’t you think, Y/F/N?”

“Your mother is right, Y/N. You need to stop staying inside all day and go out. Make friends, go on dates, have fun for once.” You sighed, your appetite suddenly lessening as the thought of eating alone made you nauseous.

“Darling, you need to do more with your life besides sitting in your room and writing or drawing or whatever you do up there in that cave of yours. You’re 18, you’re not getting any younger.” It hurt hearing the words come from your own parents, the people who were supposed to love you. Nat’s words ran through your head, maybe she was right, maybe she was the only one that actually loved you. And you ruined it without even knowing.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to go out with him, I don’t want to date anyone. I don’t want a high school sweetheart like you guys, I want freedom.”

“Y/N, no boy is going to want to date you when you’re old. They want a young, pretty girl to have their children, why do you always have to go against everything we say? Why do you always feel the need to start an argument? Can you not just listen to your own parents for once?” You quickly shoveled in the rest of the food, not caring to ask if you could leave the table and immediately standing up to head to your room. Your parents called after you, disappointment and angered words leaving their lips. It brought tears to your eyes, why couldn’t they just love you? Were you that unlovable?

Your body collided with the bed, the soft mattress almost immediately readjusting to your body and hugging you softly. You let it all go, all the frustration and worries turned into tears that quickly turned into loud sobs. You wished Nat would be here to hold you, take care of you. But she wasn’t. She hated you. And it was all your fault. You’d sit here, drowning in your sorrows and hoping that she’d at least call. Some would say you were acting dramatic, but they must’ve never known what love feels like.

Nat sat parked outside of your house, the limited light making it nearly impossible for anyone to see her there. She wanted to talk to you, not apologize, just talk. She didn’t think you deserved an apology after what you did. You knew it would hurt her and you still went out with Kate.

She got out of the musty car filled with smoke looming in the air and walked to the side of the building. She could see your light on and took her chance, using the firewood your father left out to her advantage. She stood on top of it, mentally thanking her height which let her just barely reach the first-floor roof. She was lucky your room was connected to it as she knocked on your window, seeing a figure through the blinds almost jump up. You knew who it was, Nat was the only person who’d ever climb the side of your house so idiotically. You rushed to unlock your windows and open them, seeing Nat’s beautiful face smiling back at yours.

“Nat!” You quickly covered your mouth to try and minimize the sound you made, fearing your parents would somehow hear you. “What are you doing here?”

“What? Am I not allowed to see my favorite girl?” She let herself into your room, knowing you’d let her in anyways. She cupped your cheeks in both of her hands, staring down at you and licking her lips.

“I missed you, baby.” Her voice was hushed and her breath reeked of cigarettes. You feared it was another high of hers, she’d act like she cared for you and then would forget everything she said the morning after.

“Are you seriously high again?” She chuckled and shook her head, grinning at the cute pout that painted your face.

“No, I’m not high. I only had a few cigs, nothing too dangerous.” You let out a relieved sigh, trying to fight the urge to have her in your arms but failing. Your tears returned as your wrapped both arms around her large form, your head resting on her chest as she cradled you closely.

“Shh, it’s okay.” She kissed the top of your head, smelling the sweet shampoo that she loved so much.

“What did they do?” She sat down on your bed, pulling you close to sit on her lap. Your legs were over her side as she used her thumb to wipe the tears pooling out of your eyes. You told her everything, failing to notice the angered expression she held.

“I swear, I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“It’s okay, Natty, it’s not your fault.” You both sat in comfortable silence, the only sound being the sniffling coming from your nose and the hiccups leaving your mouth. She had almost forgotten the entire reason she came to your house until you spoke once more,

“Natty?.” She gave a hum in response, signaling for you to go on.

“Are you mad at me?” Her silence was all the answer you needed. But you still wondered why, why was she mad at you? What did you do wrong?

“I’m sorry for whatever I did, I really don’t know what I did wrong.” She almost broke when hearing the soft and apologetic tone you used on her.

“I don’t want you hanging out with that girl anymore.” She muttered, but you could still hear her. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you had a feeling who she meant but why did she hate her so much?

“With Kate? But, Nat-”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, Y/N, you know what you did. And you couldn’t fucking even tell me.” She paused, releasing a troubled breath and flaring her nose, “Do you like her?” The question took you by surprise but you couldn’t deny there were small feelings there, ones you’d never tell Nat about.

“What? No! Of course not! She’s, just a friend.” She didn’t seem to believe you, but you couldn’t blame her, you couldn’t even believe your own lie.

“I want you to promise me something.”

“Of course. Anything.” She looked you dead in the eyes, her anger settling for something warmer and sweeter when seeing you.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll never talk to, go near, or even think about her. I don’t want you around Kate, she’s not good for you.” Your eyes widened at her words, the thought of losing Kate wasn’t one you liked, but losing Nat would be even worse. You were a wreck without her for only a few days, you couldn’t even imagine how crushed you’d be if you lost her again. So, you had to agree, it was the only thing you could do.

“But, what if I lose you again? Kate she- she doesn’t do the things you do. With her I can actually talk and not just be shut down, it’s nice, you know?” You regretted your words the second they left your mouth, Nat clearly didn’t like them either.

“What, so you don’t want me anymore? I’m too much for you?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

“Listen to me, Y/N, you’re mine. And so what if I have an occasional smoke, at least I’m actually having fun instead of hiding all day doing nothing. Kate is not good for you, she ruins people. I don’t want to see that happen to you. I would hate to see you get hurt because of your own stupid decisions.” Her statement reminded you of your own parents, were you really that boring that you couldn’t even break loose every now and then? Maybe that’s why she’s too embarrassed to have you around. Because she doesn’t want anyone to see her with someone like you.

“Tell me, baby, who do you belong to?” She was standing in front of the end of the bed now, you stuck in your old position. You held your hands in your lap and picked at your fingernails as the emotions that were bottled up started to arise. When getting no response, she tried again.

“I won’t ask you again, who do you belong to?” You sniffled, refusing to make eye contact with her as you muffled your response.

“You.”

“What was that?” She teased further, your voice only rising as you spoke again.

“I belong to you and only you, Nat.” She hummed, nodding her head slowly in agreement. She cupped your cheeks like earlier, this time leaning in close but not just letting your lips touch, she was waiting for you to make the move. You reluctantly did, pressing your mouth against hers for a short yet passionate kiss. Before you could pull her back in for more, she moved back.

“Nat-”

“Shh, just let me do all the work, okay?” You were pushed down onto the bed as you watched Nat remove her leather jacket along with her shirt. Her denim jeans were next to go, leaving her to be left in nothing but her bra and panties. You were still fully clothed, until she sat next to you on the bed, ridding you of your shirt and soon your pajama pants. Your bra was already been removed when you had gotten dressed, your freed nipples hardening as the cold air hit them. Your legs clenched together as she played with the hem of your panties, slowly dipping a finger in to feel your warmth.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me.” She whispered, her breath ragged and short.

“Is this all for me, Y/N?” You nodded as it became too hard to speak, the fear of accidentally releasing a noise too loud and your parents hearing overcoming you. She seemed to understand and didn’t push any further. Her other hand played with your neglected breasts, running her fingertips over the buds gently. Her hips thrusted into the air, her arousal pooling in her damp panties when hearing your light moans. You had such an effect on her, she didn’t understand it but you did things to her nobody has ever done before. You made her feel cared for and loved while making her horny as ever, it was unbelievable.

“You’re so beautiful, have I ever told you that?” She had, but this was the first time she seemed to mean it when she wasn’t high. She wasn’t one to give compliments, but whenever she said them, meaningful or not, it made your heart melt.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and you’re all fucking mine.” Her digits teased your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves as you soaked her fingers. She pulled them out of your undergarments, licking the two digits and moaning at the taste of your juices.

“You taste so good, love.” She pulled down your panties, you lifted your hips to help her in the process. Her eyes widened when seeing you bare, your precious cunt on display for her. She licked her lips as her fingers found their way back to your needy clit, her mouth finding place on your breasts. She circled your nipple with her tongue, your head tossing back as your hands grasped the sheets beneath you. You’d never felt so good before, not even from your own fingers. You had guessed Nat had practice before, the thought only made you envy whoever it was who got to be with her first. You always expected your first to be a man, but you also never expected to meet someone like Nat who’d change everything for you in just a few months.

She could feel how tense you were, and no matter how needy you were, she couldn’t get you to relax in her hold.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay, I’ll be gentle. If you need me to stop I will, just tell me, I won’t be mad.” The soft side of her calmed you down like a breath of fresh air. You needed her and she needed you just as much.

“I’m ready, Natty. Please, I want you to touch me.” She nodded, hesitantly pressing her lips onto yours and savoring the feeling. Oh, how she’d never get sick of those plump lips of yours. She pressed her forehead against yours, the tips of your noses hitting just barely. You felt her fingers prodding at your hole, begging to feel you. You gulped down your worries and nodded, almost instantly feeling two digits slide into your tight cunt. She didn’t move, instead letting you get adjusted to them and kissing you apologetically when you hissed in pain. She wanted to kiss your neck and paint your skin with her marks, but she knew she couldn’t. She could only ever mark you as hers where no one could see, her love for you would always have to stay hidden, even from you.

“You- shit! You can move now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes just- please! Please fuck me, Nat.” She didn’t say anything, instead doing as you asked and slowly sliding her fingers in and out of you. Your whimpers and whines only encouraged her to quicken her pace. As much as she tried to be gentle, it was nearly impossible to hold back.

“God, please! I just wanna- fuck, I wanna ruin you, baby. Wanna make you mine, show everyone you belong to me.”

“Please mark me, Nat, please. I don’t care if they can see it, just want you everywhere.” She compiled, moving her head towards your chest and kissing down to your nipples before leaving a small purplish hickey. She admired it as if it was gold, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it and she never planned on doing so.

“Shh, you don’t want your daddy coming in here and seeing his daughter all spread out for me, right? I can see the look on his face already, he would be so disappointed in you, such a shame.” Her words didn’t register in your brain, you were too out of it to even think. Your mouth formed an O shape as she thrusted into you repeatedly, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you came closer and closer to the edge.

“Nat! I’m gonna-” Her hand covered your mouth to silence you. As much as she wanted to listen to your moans on repeat for hours on end, she knew there was no way she could without you being caught.

“Cum for me, Y/N, cum all over me.” She hid her head in your neck, sucking the skin softly, completely forgetting her rule of no marks that could be seen. Your coil snapped, your juices soaking her digits as she let you ride out your high.

“Good girl, baby, you did so well for me.” She takes a deep breath, the words she wanted to say were begging to get out, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t admit it. She worried that once she let you know how she felt, you’d leave her. She knew it was no excuse to hurt you, but she couldn’t help it. And deep down she knew you’d never take advantage of her, but it still was a fear she’d always have.

“I love you so much, Y/N. So, so much.” It felt relieving to get the words that had been haunting her mind out. She had only told you so when she was high out of her mind, but now, she was sober and she truly meant it.

“I love you too, Natty. I love you more than anything in the world.” She kissed you gently, easing her fingers out of your hole slowly as to not hurt you. She placed her digits against your mouth, dragging your lower lip down and making you taste yourself. You sucked on her fingers, staring up at her as she smiled back at you. You were so beautiful, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“I’m sorry about everything, love, I promise I’ll change. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.” Before she could lie down next to you, a loud knock interrupted you both. She jumped to try and grab her clothes, but it was too late.

“Y/N, me and your mother wanted to-” He stopped in his steps, staring at the scene in front of him with widened eyes. Anger and disappointment took over him. You and Nat shared a look of fear, you were fucked.

Taglist: @pancakefan7529 @natsxwife @kksalexa @arualdcg

355 notes · View notes

gaybananabread · 5 months

Note

Hii! I hope I'm doing this right 😅

The amazing digital circus, Lee Jax! Ler ragatha!

Banana,oranges,lemons please!! :3

Absolutely fine if your not able to do it but just a request :D

(oh no I forgot something 😅😭 Can the most focused on spot be the ears please!! Super sorry!)

Fruit(s): Bananas, Oranges, Lemons

You’re all good, Anon! Jax is such an ass and I’m here for it (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠◡⁠`⁠). I’ve been pretty sick this week, so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes or quality issues (ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ). Fair warning, the bunny man is quite the prick in this because I like bickering. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Jax

Ler: Ragatha

Summary: Jax is being a total brat, sassing and picking on all the other characters. Ragatha has enough, giving him a lesson on manners he won’t soon forget.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

The Amazing Digital Circus was…an interesting place, to say the least. If one could get over the fact that a likely-sentient AI entity ran a digital fairgrounds that nobody could ever escape from, their minds twisting and going down a deep spiral of paranoia and uncertainty until they lost their sanity, it was kinda cool. That first part was a pretty big hang-up for most, though.

Jax, however, had grown pretty used to the madness. He had his wit and sarcasm as a coping method. Why worry about your own misfortunes when you can laugh at someone else’s? The rabbit took every opportunity he could to quip, snicker and poke fun at his fellow characters. He got on everyone’s nerves.

His antics really got to one being in particular: Ragatha.

She felt as if she could tear his ears off some days. Jax would always bully the others, but he had been horrible that day. Pomni was still getting used to things; the poor thing didn’t need another reason to fret. His jokes were only putting everyone on edge, and that jester was already on a narrow ledge… It needed to stop.

“Wow Gangle, I didn’t know you could actually do something productive. Color me shocked.” Jax hovered over her, looking down at the ribbon being’s drawing. It was some sort of fan art, though he couldn’t name the media. It didn’t look that accurate, and he wasn’t that much of a nerd before he put the headset on…

Before she could think to be shocked at the half-praise, he quickly put the dickery in his words. “Shame it’s too trashy to make out whatever you drew. This place is enough of an eye-sore as is.”

The tears on Gangle’s mask rippled as she sniffed, trying not to let his mean words get to her. It didn’t really work; she’d put a lot of effort into that… She clutched the drawing to her chest as she ran away, her mouth line quivering. Jax just chuckled, not really caring that she ran off. It was just a joke. Not his fault she couldn’t take it.

Ragatha put her hands on her hips, marching over to Jax. He rolled his eyes, preparing for the lecture. “JAX! What is wrong with you?! Gangle worked really hard on that! You…you need to quit being such a jerky prick!”

The wide smirk stuck, though his eyes widened slightly. It was hardly a solid insult, though coming from such a typically passive-aggressive person, it was surprising. Didn’t know she had it in her…heh.

Jax’s snarky smirk returned, his eyes forming amused crescents. Hello, new source of entertainment… “Relax, dollface! Crybaby’s fine. Just havin’ another pity party.”

She scoffed, letting her typically suppressed temper show. “Seriously? You told her that those amazing drawings were trashy! Why are you such a bratty bully?” Her tone was as curious as it was disappointed. Eugh…

“I’m not a bully. I just say what I see; not my fault you babies can’t handle the truth.” Okay, maybe he was going a bit further than he normally did. He was bored, and the banter was actually amusing. As long as he danced on the right side of the line, he’d be fine. “Like you. I mean, I get this place knows our minds or something, but it really nailed you. Trashy scraps and frayed yarn.”

This little…ugh! He was bringing out a side of Ragatha she didn’t know she still had. “Oh really? And what’s that make you, cotton tail? A bargain bin, carnival prize knock-off?”

Jax actually chuckled; finally, someone fun. “Nah, I’m just better. Taller, good-looking, not made of sewn together *boink*. I’d say it did me right.” He smirked, leaning in and getting to her level. “You found a nice 1830’s girl yet? They’re all about raggedy scraps.”

Oh, that was it! She glared, her upper lip curling as she reached for him. The lanky jerk leaned away just in time, taking off in the opposite direction. Okay, so it was possible to make her mad…totally worth it.

Ragatha chased after him, going over revenge plans in her mind. She normally tried to avoid conflict, but Jax was out of control. Rabbit stew seemed delicious, even if it would only be a simulation…

Jax tried to find literally any not-obvious spot to hide, but everything was ginormous and solid, a vengeful Ragatha on his heels. He just ran for his life. He might’ve made it, too, if he hadn’t tripped on something. “What the-” He went down, face-planting on the bouncy floor. Gloink…of course. He could’ve sworn it smirked at him, even though they had no mouths.

The doll was on him in seconds, quickly pinning him to the floor. For fabric and stuffing, she was pretty strong. Before he could think to fight back, his arms were pinned above his head, the girl straddling him and blocking his every escape. “W-woah doll! At least buy me dinner first!” That one was kinda stupid, but it was there.

The smoldering glare that comment received finally shut him up, if only for a moment. So many ideas, so little time… But she couldn’t do anything to hurt him. One, it wasn’t physically possible, and two, she was better than that. He still needed some kind of shove in the right direction… Ohohohooo, that’s perfect.

“I think you need to learn some hard lessons, Jax. Respect for your friends, and when to shut up.” The tone of her voice was surprisingly playful, even if it had a serious edge. He didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

He wasn’t sure what she was up to. That is, until he felt one of her mitten-esque hands on his stomach, wiggling into the furry surface. Unable to bite his lip, giggles slipped past his defenses, greeting the smug doll. “W-whahat the *bloink* ahare you dohohoing?!”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m showing you what happens when you’re a snarky dork.” Ragatha smirked, keeping his hands pinned firmly above his head. “W-whehen dihid you gehehet strohohohong?!”

She tsked, trying not to take offense to that. “You need a filter, Jax. Apparently Caine’s isn’t enough. My way is a bit more…hands-on.” Ragatha went to town on his belly, digging her fabric fingers into his midsection.

Squealing, twisting and turning, Jax tried anything to escape. He might’ve had the height advantage, but when it came to strength and endurance, he was surprisingly out-matched. Also, apparently very ticklish. Shocks across the board.

Jax kicked his feet, the pads thumping against the floor. She cooed, teasing him further. “Aww, guess you really do live up to your character, Thumper.”

The tickling wasn’t even the worst part, though it did come in a close second. It was the teases. He honestly didn’t think she had it in her, but *sproing* he was wrong. Ragatha squeezed his hip, making him jolt and squeal. “R-RAHAhagathaha!” Okay, make that a tie.

His laughter, to Ragatha, was honestly adorable. Who knew a jerk like him could be so ticklish, much less have a laugh like that. It was bright, bubbly and uncontrollable. Hearing her friends laugh, no matter how rude, was something special. She could listen to it all day, though she didn’t quite plan on going that far.

While the silliness wasn’t hurting him, his pride was being battered to bits. No matter how much he wriggled and writhed under her, he couldn’t manage to break her hold or knock her off. Beyond that, she just had to keep exploring his spots. “Youhuhu lihittle- GYAAAHAHA! NAHAT THEHEHERE!” Like that one.

Ragatha's eyes widened as she rubbed the base of his ear, not expecting the spot to incite such a reaction. She wasn’t complaining, though. “Geez, Jax. These floppy ears are so sensitive! I have got to tell the others.” The doll switched between each ear, making sure neither felt left out. They twitched and flopped, but couldn’t avoid her skilled hand.

Even though he was the most prideful of all the characters, her tickling was really pushing his limits; he just couldn’t take any more. Abandoning his ego for a moment, he cried out. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! IHI’M SOHAHAHARRY! P-PLEHEHEASE NO MOHOHORE!”

She took that as her cue to quit, releasing his arms and climbing off him. The rabbit man immediately curled into himself, giggling like a toddler. She did notice, however, that he was still wiggling slightly, his closed eyes moving as if he had a twitching nose. He was clearly happy, though she bet he’d never admit it out loud.

“Y-youhuhu…youhu’re dehehead!” The threat would’ve been a lot more menacing if he didn’t look and sound like he’d had the time of his life. “Uh-huh, sure. Just try to be nicer, okay Giggles?” Ragatha pat his head, walking away and going to find Gangle. Knowing her, she would need similar treatment, though for very different reasons.

Jax took deep and giggly breaths as he tried to calm himself. That was…wow. He didn’t even think stimulation like that was possible in the Circus. Then again, Caine did say the only thing he couldn’t control were their minds. How his mind felt right then…he’d rather not talk about it. Her plan had worked; he’d definitely be thinking about that encounter for a while. Maybe not for the intended reasons, though…

#tadc tickle #kasey's fruit shop #lee!jax #ler!ragatha #ticklish!jax #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #the amazing digital circus tickle #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #sfw tickle fic #jax is an asshole

114 notes · View notes

lockettelullaby · 1 year

Note

Ur amber freeman post was so good😭 can we get another? Maybe reader is also a Ghostface and they are just fluffy and chaotic together??? Plzzzz

A Little Bit Theatrical

Pairing: Amber Freeman x Ghostface Fem!Reader

Word Count: 615

Summary: You spend the night over at your girlfriend’s house to help her prepare for her big performance.

A/N: This request was so much fun to write! I’m also fully convinced that Amber gives off theatre kid energy.

“You know, it’s really hard to give my speech when you keep making faces like that.”

The voice sliced through the air as you lifted your head from your copy of Murder on The Orient Express. Standing across from the bed was none other than your girlfriend, Amber, who had a frown plastered to her expression. Realizing she was talking to you, you rolled onto your back, the upper half of your body dangling off the edge of a bed as if you were a circus performer.

”Huh? I wasn’t making a face!” you protested, bringing your book up to your face like a mask.

Rolling her eyes, Amber stepped forward to yank the book from your hands. Though she was upside down in your line of vision, you couldn’t help but feel your chest lift at the sight of her. Her raven hair fell over her red oversized flannel like a cascade of onyx. One sleeve had slid down to her elbow, allowing her black tank top to be visible as she raised a brow at you.

”Really? Then a mystery novel must be pretty hilarious.” she huffed, holding the book in the air as you pouted.

“It actually kinda—“

Your words fell short at the sight of Amber’s deadpanned expression.

“—okay fine. It’s just you’re…”

“I’m what?”

”…a little bit theatrical. Don’t get me wrong! You’re totally giving the whole scary-I’m-going-to-kill-you-all type vibe, it‘s just kinda like if the drama club was putting on a production of Stab.“

Amber paused, lowering the book in her hand. ”Babe, I’m in drama club.”

You blinked back at her before losing your balance, sending you tumbling onto the floor. Groaning, your gaze flickers back to Amber. She chuckles at the sight, gently helping you back to your feet. Your arms wrap around her neck instinctively, as if it were second nature to you. Giggling at her smile, you scrunched your nose playfully.

”I forgot you were a theatre kid.”

“Shut up. How would you deliver the lines then?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think as Amber‘s arm held you in a tight embrace around your waist.

“Make it slow. Saying things in a lower voice rather than yelling them makes the effect that much more scarier because it shows you’re in control of your emotions.” you explained, loosely playing with Amber’s hair.

Leaning in, Amber gently placed her lips against yours, the scent of her cinnamon perfume surrounding you like a storm.

“Did you learn that one from your book, baby?” she asked after pulling away, holding the book above your head once more. “Maybe you should do the speaking instead of me.”

It didn’t help that Amber was a few inches taller than you. Crossing your arms, you reached up for the book desperately.

“I thought the plan was you do the talking and I start the fun? Now give it back.” you protested.

Laughing at the sight, Amber smirked before holding the book behind her back.

”So you were paying attention. Kiss me first and then we’ll talk about getting your book back.”

Before a second thought could enter either of your minds, your lips crashed against Amber, leaving the two of you stumbling to the bed. Hooking your leg around her hip, you felt her arms draw you in closer as raven hair fell over you. Quite frankly, you didn’t care too much if you got your book back in that moment. Your attention was captivated by the theatrical girl above you.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #scream franchise #scream five #amber freeman drabble #amber freeman x female reader #ghostface x reader

538 notes · View notes

hairstevington · 1 year

Text

flowers and ink (part 3)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie makes up an excuse to get closer to Steve, and it works...eventually! Part one, part two

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Tattoo Artist!Eddie/Florist!Steve, platonic soulmates Robin and Steve, Eddie thinks they're dating, miscommunication trope but it's resolved by the end, THEY ARE IDIOTS YOUR HONOR, Steve is a sweetheart, the fluffiest of fluff

A/N: This was originally supposed to be the "ending," but I might end up continuing it if people are interested in seeing where it goes - either here or on Ao3! Otherwise, I do have more Steddie content coming soon no matter what. At this point I'm in too deep to quit. Thanks all!

Eddie scanned the room in search of any sort of inspiration.

“Sure, what’s up?” Steve asked, nonchalant.

Flowers. There were just flowers everywhere. That’s all Eddie had to go on. Okay, flowers it is.

“So, this woman came by the other day and she wants this whole sleeve of flowers, right? But, like, I don’t do flowers very often. So I’m gonna practice drawing flowers a lot these next few weeks while I’m nailing down the design, and I guess I, uhhhh, was thinking maybe I could look around here and take some notes or something?”

Lies. All of it. LIES.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Steve said. “You can hang around here as long as you want. Or, until we close, anyway.”

“Which is in fifteen minutes,” Robin reminded her coworker.

“Oh. Shit, yeah,” Steve chuckled. “You can hang around for fifteen minutes, then.” Eddie smiled and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

Then, of course, Eddie had to walk around and examine the flowers as if he actually gave a shit about them, which he didn’t. He was far more interested in the man behind the counter, but whatever. This would do.

He had fifteen minutes to figure out what he was going to do at closing time. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could get an invite to hang out with them after. Although, did he really want to be a third wheel? Was all of this just pathetic?

Probably.

“Hold on, your hair is still a little messed up,” Steve said to Robin. They both giggled softly, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

Definitely pathetic. Eddie drifted farther into the back so he couldn’t hear them whispering to each other anymore.

Flowers were nice. Eddie didn’t have anything against them, he just wasn’t drawn to them like a lot of people seemed to be. They were a bit too pretty for his taste. Too delicate. He took a couple pictures (to really sell his bullshit cover story), and before he knew it, it was closing time.

Eddie walked back up to the front to join Steve and Robin, ready to say the line he’d been preparing the last fourteen and a half minutes. Is it cool if I drop by tomorrow to keep looking around?

Steve spoke before Eddie could ask his question, stunning him momentarily.

“Hey, so I was thinking if any more questions come up, you could just text me. You know, if you want.”

“Hold on, your hair is still a little messed up.”

“Oh my god, fix it!”

“I’m trying! Stay still!”

Steve brushed through Robin’s hair with his fingers, smoothing down the strands that were sticking out. He caught her looking at him, then glancing in Eddie’s direction, then back at him.

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” Steve warned.

“He came here for you,” she whispered to Steve. “With lotion!”

“We were just talking about it at the shop earlier,” Steve dismissed. “He probably is just making fun of me for using the wrong kind.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Robin muttered. “He likes you.”

“Shh!” Steve’s eyes went wide. Eddie wasn’t that far away, even though they were speaking quietly. Suddenly, Steve remembered what he’d learned about Eddie, and that he hadn’t told Robin yet. “Okay, look. Maybe you’re right.”

“I am,” she insisted.

“Fine,” Steve conceded. “So, he told me that -” Steve stopped himself and looked around the room to double check that Eddie was as far from them as possible. He went the charade route anyway.

Steve looked at her intensely until she was completely focused. He pointed vaguely in the direction of where Eddie went, and then used the same hand to flip his wrist downwards with an emphatic nod. Robin’s eyes went wide.

“Shut up,” she said. “Confirmed?”

“Out, proud, and mentoring the youth,” Steve replied. “Oh, and Will Byers was there.”

“What?!”

“Shh!”

Robin collected herself again so she could resume whispering.

“You need to ask him out.” Her voice was barely audible now.

“I don’t know how.”

“You’ve done it a bazillion times, Dingus,” she reminded him. “What makes this any different?”

“I don’t know!” Steve admitted with a shrug. “He’s so much cooler and smarter than me, and it’s, like, really intimidating.”

“Steve, we have to work on your self confidence,” Robin sighed.

“You tease me all the goddamn time, Buckley.”

“I’m allowed,” she said. “You’re not.” Steve rolled his eyes but accepted the feedback.

“I’ll do it, okay?”

He knew he needed to sound casual about it, in case he was reading it wrong. Just because Eddie was gay didn’t mean he was interested. But! If they talked more, Steve could flirt a little and then know for sure.

So, when Eddie came back at 5pm, Steve took the leap.

“Hey, so I was thinking if any more questions come up, you could just text me.” Steve watched Eddie freeze, and Steve had no idea what to do with that. He backtracked immediately. “You know, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie responded after a few moments. Steve wasn’t sure how to read Eddie’s hesitation.

“Cool,” Steve responded. He could practically feel Robin’s judgment from a few feet away, even without looking at her. He snapped himself out of his trance and grabbed a pen and one of the Flowers for All business cards, then flipped it over on the counter to the blank side.

“You could just -” Eddie said, holding his phone up. “Use this, you know.”

“Oh, duh,” Steve said, mentally kicking himself. He took Eddie’s phone and put his number in, then handed it back. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Eddie responded. Steve figured if Eddie wasn’t interested, he just wouldn’t reach out. No harm done. “Have a good rest of your night, guys.”

“We will,” Robin answered, knowing that Steve was obviously incapable of acting normal. “Stop by any time, okay?”

“Okay, thanks,” Eddie repeated. He did a small wave and then left the store with nothing but the residual jingle from the bell above the door.

Steve immediately slunk to the floor and sat against the wall.

“Not one word,” he said.

“That was painful.”

“That was three words.”

“You didn’t ask him out!”

“Yeah, well I’m getting there! I got his number, didn’t I?”

“Barely!” she replied with a laugh. “But he’s totally into you. I can tell.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Because he came here with lotion and then stuck around to look at flowers when the internet exists,” Robin explained.

Huh. She has a point.

“Fair enough,” Steve sighed. “I guess now we just wait and see if you’re right.”

Eddie was obviously going to text Steve, but he had no idea what to say. He really dug himself into a hole with the flower research thing.

Also, what the fuck was that about? What flower-related questions could Eddie possibly have? Why would Eddie text Steve for flower advice when the internet exists? What does flower advice even mean? He typed out his first draft -

Hi, it’s Eddie. Thanks for helping me out :)

Ok, boring. He tried again.

Hi, it’s Eddie. Texting so you have my number too

Could be better.

What’s your favorite flower?

Oh god! No! Delete! Delete!

This was hopeless.

“He hasn’t texted yet,” Steve whined.

“It’s only been three hours,” Robin replied.

They were doing their post-shift hang out, like usual. They had some stupid reality TV show on in the background that both of them hated but for some reason loved watching together.

“It’s felt like twelve,” Steve groaned, throwing his head back against the couch.

“It’s felt like a hundred for me, with you constantly complaining about it,” Robin responded, shoving him lightly.

“Hey, this was your doing, alright?” Steve shot back, smirking. “He’s not interested, and that’s okay.” He was trying to convince himself more than anything.

“Patience, grasshopper,” Robin assured him. “Don’t lose hope yet.”

Steve’s phone buzzed on the table. They both lunged for it, desperately checking the notification.

A text from an unknown number.

Am I allowed to ask you questions that aren’t about flowers?

“Robin, I love you.”

Sure, what do you wanna know? 🙂

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Eddie sat down and pondered what question he should ask first.

Why frog and toad?

Eddie was far more comfortable talking about tattoos. Steve responded -

Just seemed right, I guess.

Ugh, okay. Eddie forgot he sucked at texting.

Do you regret it?

He waited a minute or two until his phone lit up again.

No, not at all. We love it.

Eddie sighed. He didn’t know what to say next.

I’m not good at the text thing

Steve’s response showed up moments later.

Guess you’ll have to come visit us again then ;)

Okay, well that works.

Eddie showed up the next day on one of his breaks, pretended to look at some more flowers as if they’d changed from the day before, and then struck up a conversation with Steve about tattoos. Then, he dropped by on another break a few days later, skipping the flower part completely and jumping straight into talking about music.

“So, how’s the flower design going?” Steve asked after their discussion died down.

“It’s good,” Eddie said. “I’m just not really a flowers guy, is all.” Steve gasped and pretended to be shocked.

“You? Not into flowers??” Eddie chuckled. “I didn’t think I was either, but I actually love it here. Maybe if you keep coming by you’ll change your tune.”

“Yeahhhh, I’m not so sure about that,” Eddie replied.

“Oh, I am,” Steve challenged playfully. “There’s a flower for everyone - that’s literally why this place is called Flowers for All.”

“Oh god,” Eddie teased. “This isn’t gonna become a thing where you try to get me to like flowers, is it?” Steve smirked and bent down so his forearms rested on the counter.

“Hey, man. You got me into tattoos, I’m just returning the favor.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Yeah, it was cute, but he knew that it was a doomed mission.

Steve tried anyway. Each day, when Eddie showed up for work, a new flower was left at the front door.

First, it was a daisy.

Steve: Well?

Eddie: It's pretty. I'm not a huge fan of yellow tho

Steve: Noted

On day two, a carnation.

Eddie: are you trying to take me to prom?

Steve: maybe (just kidding we missed it)

Eddie: lmao

Then, there was a succulent.

Eddie: I actually really like this one

Steve: Success!

Eddie thought that would be the end of it. But then, on the fourth day, a gardenia was at the door.

Eddie: more???

Steve: are you a flower guy yet?

Eddie: No, but I’m running out of room on my desk

Steve: Better get another desk then

At this point, Eddie thought for sure Steve was messing with him. Maybe that’s all this ever was. Robin kept saying over and over how bored they were at work, and Eddie was their current source of entertainment.

He gave the flowers to Bob - except the succulent, for obvious reasons. Eddie named him Sonic.

On day 5, Eddie found a red rose dipped in black ink on his desk. Bob had apparently already let Steve in to set it up. Eddie would have groaned in frustration, except the stupid thing was actually extremely badass. Like, he thought it was so cool he was sad it was going to wilt eventually.

Fuck. This had to stop.

Eddie marched into Flowers for All, rose in hand, ready to tell Steve that he didn’t just want to be some project for the happy couple.

“Heyyy, look who’s here!” Steve greeted him as he walked in. Steve’s face fell when he noticed Eddie holding the rose. “Uh-oh, you hated this one so much you’re returning it? I really thought -”

“I didn’t hate it, I love it. It's - I mean, it's perfect.”

“Okay,” Steve said, hopping off the counter. “So, why do you look angry at me?”

“Are you guys making fun of me or something?” Eddie asked. No time for small talk. No beating around the bush. They’d been tip-toeing around this for over a week now.

“What?” Steve asked, genuinely shocked. “Dude, no. I - shit, okay. No, I’m not making fun of you, I’m trying to flirt with you. Guess I’ve lost my touch.” Steve put a hand to the back of his neck and grimaced nervously.

“Flirt with me?” Now Eddie was the shocked one. “So, you’re not dating Robin?”

Steve burst out laughing.

“Robin? My platonic lesbian best friend Robin?”

Eddie’s head was spinning.

“Platonic?” he echoed. “After the way you two tumbled out of the back room all flustered and shit the first time I came in?”

“That’s absolutely not what you think it was,” Steve said.

“Then what was it?”

“It was - okay, well first of all, I was flustered because you came in. And Robin and I were back there because her hair somehow got tangled in a watering can and she needed my help.”

It sounded like a lie, but it would have been the most random lie ever created.

“Jesus, how did that even happen?” Eddie wondered, amused.

“Robin has zero coordination,” Steve responded. “It’s part of her charm.” Eddie nodded, processing all of this.

“Okay, so you’re not dating Robin,” he said.

“No.”

“And you’ve been flirting with me.”

“Yes.”

“Completely genuinely, like not as a joke?” Steve chuckled.

“Eddie, I tipped you like a full day's worth of pay for our tattoo,” he reminded him. “If I was joking, I’d have to be stupidly committed to the bit.”

Okay, well that was…fair.

“Oh,” Eddie replied. Wow. I really am an idiot.

“Yeah,” Steve said. There was a moment where they both just kinda stared at each other, and then Eddie broke the silence.

“You do realize I’ve been flirting with you too, right?” he asked. Steve just stared at him blankly. “Okay, from the way you’re looking at me I’m gonna go with no on that one.”

“I mean, I was hoping you were-”

“I am.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

“So, we should go out then.”

“Yeah, that seems like a logical next step.”

They smiled at each other, basking in the absurdity, and then suddenly a piercing voice came from Steve’s phone on the counter.

“FINALLY.”

“Wait, is that Robin?” Eddie asked, pointing at the phone.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve responded. “I was talking to her when you came in.”

Eddie shook his head and laughed.

Well, at least they were both idiots.

(part 4)

____________________

Check out my Masterlist!

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @justaloadofgarbage-blog @alliemunsonsstuff @undreamingscatworld @thefruityfours @hobbitnarwhal @calivanus @wreckmyplans-thatsmyman @antheia @goodolefashionedloverboi @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @steviesbicrisis @gamerdano @menamesniall @eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @stringischeese @eds-trashmouth

@mnl-enuh @redfreckledwolf @itsanarrum @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @gregre369 @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @aryakanojiaa @wrenisflying @comicmadlover @lilacrobin @itch-my-b0nez @anonymousbandgirl @disastardly @Dang_Dirty_Demons @daisyellsong @val-from-lawrence @starryeyedpoet17 @taikawaiteatea @clumsiluni @hollysimone @swimmingbirdrunningrock @witchofhawkins @steddiegarbage @suddenlyinlove @ricekristytreaty @eddielives1986 @bunnyweasley23 @thefailcollection @ppunkpuppyy @bestwifehaver @httpsphynx

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #robin buckley #writing #flowers and ink #st fic #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #platonic stobin #modern day au

163 notes · View notes

eddiemunson-mylove · 1 year

Text

I MET JOE - 18/03/2023

Okay first of all, this is probably going to be a really long post because I am making sure I get EVERY detail.

Firstly, the context:

Most of us had seen the Instagram story and the “there do be willies” mayhem. I saw the story after my lovely friend @joehhy sent it and asked what willies are (she’s French) I saw the post and read about the show and thought…. Fuck it I’ll go it’s sounds like fun.

Skip to the night of the show!!

I am in the queue, at the very front, joking back and forth with @joehhy about how it’d be impossible for him to show up because London is huge and it’s a 1/1000000000 chance right?! WRONG!!!!

Mr Quinn comes up to the lady at the door who’s stood right next to me and says that his friend is running a little bit late and if it was okay to just walk in. She says it’s fine and he says “thank you very much” (so polite 😌)

At this point, I’m shaking and my whole body had a sudden hot flush of adrenaline right? I saw him and I tried not to stare and saw that he looked at me in my peripheral (I’m at the front of the queue so I’m pretty noticeable) and then he walks away.

Now I’ll describe how he looks for you all 🥹🥹

His hair was SO CURLY tonight. Like I’m talking literal COCKAPOO hair. He had his glasses on too!! You know the ones….

The clear rims 🥹🥹

Yup those ones 🫠🫠

Now his outfit……….

Double dark blue denim. That’s right kids!

And he fucking owned that shit.

It was basically this outfit but you couldn’t see an undershirt as the button were up:

Anyways I didn’t see him inside the show because the audience is really dark but OMG!!!!!

Every time something funny happened you could HEAR HIM LAUGH AND GIGGLE

I had Joe Quinn laughing asmr for an HOUR are you kidding me 😭😭

After the show when all the lights came on there he was, on the opposite side of the room to me

Here’s my terrible drawing:

And I had to walk next to and behind him to get out. Turns out he’s hanging out with MISS THANG Lupita Nyong’o 🥰 and he’s telling her something so I leave.

Now…. I’m waiting at the doors outside, I initially had no intentions of speaking to him right I just wanted to see his pretty face again 🥴

He comes and speaks to the door woman again but I didn’t hear them this time and starts to walk towards the bar at the end of the hall

I’m walking after him feeling like and absolute creep and even start doing a little hop/skip to catch up (he walks FUCKING QUICK)

I place my hand on his shoulder blade…..

HE TURNS AROUND AND HES SO BEAUTIFUL OMG 😳

The conversation went like this

Me: Joe! Hi ☺️

J: Hello!

Me: I just wanted to thank you for recommending the show! I really enjoyed it

J: Omg no way really?

Me: Yes I saw it on your Instagram story

J: Wow, well I’m so glad that you enjoyed it! That’s amazing

Me: yes thank you ☺️ I met you at comic con not long ago too

J: Oh well it’s so lovely to see you again (proceeds to hold his hand out for me to shake and I do 😳)

Me: well I don’t want to bother you or anything so I’m going to go

J: Oh okay, well have a good night!

Me: Thank you, you too!

🥹🥹🥹

He was so lovely and pretty and his eye contact is IMMENSE from an autistic point of view

I didn’t ask for a picture because he seemed like he wanted to stay on the down low so I thought it would be rude

But fuck…….. I can’t believe it

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #eddie munson

155 notes · View notes

sparkdoesart · 1 month

Note

I took a sniff of you once. Stinkiest thing I ever smelled. Smelled like layers upon layers of cat. *Stinky* cat. There was something else, with it, too… It had an *edge.* I mean, apart from the stinky cat smell. I mean, you are a stinky cat. So the smell of a stinky cat is the smell of a stinky cat plus this edge, right? A set can contain more than the set is itself or something. I don’t know mathematics. Anyway, this *edge…* there were lemon. Orange. Tangerine. Citrus, citrus, citrus… that was the strongest part of the edge- no, no, no. Not citrus. *Acid*.* there was some citrus in the edges yes, but it was more general acid. Like stomach. Like vinegar, mmm vinegar… like hydrochloric. Say, have you ever had your arm eaten off by acid? Hurts like hell, doesn’t it. At least you can go get a new one at the acid refund shop. God, where would we be without those guys… I got a new arm from them once. Fucked up my claws. Returned to them and said ‘hey you fucked up my claws’ and they were like ‘ok and’ and I was like ‘can I get a new one’ and they were like ‘sorry no refunds’ and I was like ‘yeah but that’s what you do you give refunds’ and they were like ‘we don’t refund our own refunds’ and so anyway that’s the story of how I ended up with claws made out of plastic and wood and, I don’t know was it wolf fur? It was some type of fur I took it to a seasoned taxidermist about a year after they got my claws wrong and they said it was wolf fur. But I’m not ahundy cent sure. Anyways that on my right arm for a week. And then I was like ‘fuck it this hurts’ and grew new ones. Have you seen my claws? I think you have. They’re beautiful aren’t they. Real pieces of work. Did you know I often break into people’s houses in the middle of the night and graffiti their drywall with my super awesome claws? Sure, I get implicated in the odd home invasion case but it really is fun to hear about all the people who have stuff like ‘gorm’ and ‘gorp’ and ‘gort’ and ‘gorg’ and ‘gorb’ clawed into their wall. Have you done anything similar? I know you’re mischievous and all that — all cats are, aren’t they? I mean, look at Rico. He sure is a piece of work. He once chewed my leg of. Couldn’t go to the acid refund shop as he’s not an acid. I mean he could be. He could have acid in those cute lil fangs of his but that’s beside the point. Anyway I could go there because he’s presumably not acidic. So I had to spend the energy to regrow it, you know how it is. Except every night he’s come in, take a little nibble out of my regrowing leg. An he kept at this for *years*. So instead of the usual sixth months, I was a leg down for 8 years. God, to think I’ve known rico for twice that amount… anyways, once it was done he told me about it and we laughed it off. Good prank, too. Rico also once threw me into deep space. I was out on a spacewalk, he cut the tether, the rest is history… I was out there floating for about two months. Before I got a lift from some guy in a Honda Civic. Don’t know how he got it spaceworthy, but it was comfortable enough. Those two months were nice too, got to spend all that time looking at the stars as I slowly tumbled through them. Now I know all my star charts. Also solved plinko, but that’s a story for another time. Where were we? Mischievous cats! June is a cat, isn’t she? Well. *Some* of the time at least. Do you know June? She’s a real banger. Loves eating all your files and laughing maliciously. I opened a message from her once on my phone and it got straight up haunted and floated away. Never saw that phone since. No idea how she did it, either. She might’ve possessed it for all I know. Also hear her laughing sometimes when I’m in my bed. Her laughs carry really far, y’know? Anyways. You. You you you you. Ruffles your head. Pats you vigorously. You’re also a piece of work. You *make* pieces of work. You’re a pretty damn good artist. You draw ghost with those sad wet eyes. You should give yourself a pat on the back. Or I mean since I’m already patting you I could do it for you. Anyways. Do you have any spare human souls? Like f

(Will do part 2 in a moment)

A very nice conversation :]

#asks #still dont know what im smell like

25 notes · View notes

amondark · 6 months

Text

So I decided I want to try posting something to join in on the convo on here, might be fun!

A though I was having today:

I think Byun Minho might, albeit a bit hypocritically from early SB OG quotes, actually enjoy some domestic labor tasks (cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, ect.)

In parts where it shows his apartment, it’s clean and well organized, with clear thought into where everything would go and be placed.

Nothing seems out of place each time we see his own space, which means he does regular upkeep to his own space, and that makes sense when I really think about his background, this is probably the first place he’s ever had of his own (since most East Asian background children don’t love out of their parents houses until they either buy their own or get married), and he maybe finds a sense of peace in building his own life for himself, I remember him sort of lingering on the thought of his own place a few times in the Sidestory, maybe because it was the only place he really got to express his personal identity in a living space, everyone else he lives with already fills up their own spaces, leaving no self expression for him to take up any literal space, because they don’t actually want him there personally, he’s just there to fulfill a function. They don’t want him to be a human being.

Also it makes sense why in later installments, he’s unsatisfied with doing the same thing for somebody else, it’s because it doesn’t contribute to his own success in Doona’s case, instead it contributes to her success in not having to maintain her own space herself, and also she emotionally benefits from having a clean space to be productive in (which I imagine would be incredibly helpful since she wouldn’t have her mind on it at all, even if she doesn’t actively think about it, but she definitely notices it with Woo Haesol).

With Wookyung it seems to be more to keeping the other complicit, if he isn’t upset it makes the situation less dangerous for Minho, so he contributes in that way to make Wookyung feel cared for, it’s a survival tactic to ensure his own safety, also I really think with this cooking section it’s a little interesting because Minho actually might be relieved to be doing this portion of it since it’s pretty much his only realm of self expression in this hostile, unstable environment he’s in, it’s the only piece of himself he gets to have here, it’s really saddening but also enlightening, but maybe I’m just reading the vibe wrong too.

Edit: I also see a lot of vegetable dishes here too, and when I think about some of the time that it takes to cook something like that (sometimes I cook for myself), there’s a lot of those sort of individual or picky sorts of things there, chopping it up, cooking each separate vegetable in it’s own way, making sauces for some of them, ect), part of me also wonders if he was also trying to draw the time out as long as possible, it’s just a thought.

I just find this fascinating honestly, how much you can pick up from a character in just the small details about them, I’d be interested in doing some breakdowns of other things if there was traffic for it at any point, but also what do other people think? I’d be curious to know!

#sadistic beauty #sadistic beauty side story #sadistic beauty sidestory b #byun minho #cha wookyung #doona cheon #woo haesol

49 notes · View notes

game-set-canet · 6 months

Note

hii! you could do a rublev x reader tennis player where he gets jealous of her while she talks to another tennis player, if you want you can modify the request and sorry if it got confusing, english is not my first language, i love your blog!!🤍

A step forward

Pairing: Andrey Rublev x f!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

Author’s Note: i really had fun writing this imagine! i hope you like it, lovely anon! 💖💖 also: English isn’t my first language, so I’m very sorry for mistakes!

* Y/N = your name

MY MASTERLIST

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

You know something is wrong when you saw Andrey pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but you don’t know what’s the reason. In your eyes everything was fine.

Andrey just finished an intense practise session with Grigor Dimitrov. He showed that he is in a good shape and ready for the next tournament.

You are in the middle of a conversation with the Bulgarian, so all you can do is give Andrey a questioning look, but your boyfriend doesn’t react to your nonverbal question and just stares at the two of you.

“I saw the paining you posted on Instagram this morning!”, Grigor beams at you while taking off his headband, “It’s very beautiful!”

Grigor's compliment catches you completely off guard, and you can’t help but blush: “Uhm…thank you…that’s very kind.”

You love painting and drawing, and Andrey encouraged you to publish some of them online. You set up a separate Instagram account and after only five days your page had A LOT of followers – even some tennis players started following it: Karen Khachanov, Dominc Thiem, Grigor Dimitrov, … Without Andrey you wouldn't have dared to publish it, you're too insecure about it. But Andrey is passionate about your drawings and paintings and has persuaded you to share them with the world.

The older one shakes his head and steps closer to you: “No, I’m serious! You are really talented! I especially love your pencil drawings!”, he sighs still grinning, “I wish I had any talents…” You are way too involved in your conversation to notice Andrey’s snort and the way he stares at Grigor coldly.

Instead you can’t help but blur out: “I mean, from what I've heard so far, you're a pretty good tennis player.”

Grigor blinks at you in surprise before he starts laughing as well: “What you have heard? You just saw me practise?!”

“Yeah…I’m sure you can do better.”

The two of you are now laughing at the top of your lungs. When Andrey introduced you to other tennis players, you couldn’t say a single word. You are a big tennis fan since you were a little kid – always watching matches with your father – and suddenly you are meeting all the players. The first you got to know was Karen, who was really friendly, polite and calm but you were so nervous before your meeting that you nearly hyperventilate. So joking with Grigor was a HUGE step and you are really proud of yourself in that moment.

Grigor turns around and nudges Andrey with his elbow: “Cheeky! Andrey, Y/N is very bold! Did you hear what she said to me?!”

Andrey doesn’t join you in your laughing, his voice is rather cold: “No, I didn’t hear what my girlfriend said to you.”

Something about his emphasis makes you pause your laughing: You have never ever heard this kind of undertone in Andrey’s voice. Your relationship is quite new, next Monday would be your 3-month-anniversary and you know you both have a lot to learn and discover about each other but that was completely new.

Grigor also notices that something is different now and clears his throat quietly, no one says anything.

“I gonna take a shower.”, Andrey doesn’t look at any of you, “See you tomorrow, Grigor! See you later at lunch, Y/N!”, he presses a quick kiss on your left cheek and storms off of the court before you could say a single word.

Fernando Vicente is standing next to the bench, packing the bags. You have a good relationship with Andrey’s coach – at the end of the day he was the one who introduced you to Andrey.

You bite your lip and walk over to him: “Fernando?”, you wait until he turns around, “Maybe it’s nothing but…but…do you…uhm…what’s up with Andrey?”

Ferando looks at you, looking completely surprised: “You don’t know?”

“No?”, you are feeling quite stupid because it’s seeming like it’s very obvious what is wrong with your boyfriend.

Suddenly you hear Andrey yell from outside the practise court: “FERNANDO!”

Now that’s an undertone you know: your boyfriend is annoyed and impatient. Fernando knows the undertone as well and hurries up collecting his things.

“He is jealous!”, is everything Fernando says before he quickly grabs the bags and almost jogs across the court to follow Andrey back to the main building.

Andrey has a short break after lunch, so you make your way back to your hotel room after eating with the whole team.

Your boyfriend was very quiet and so everything was a bit tensed. You take a deep breath and sit down next to Andrey on the big couch: “Andrey?”

You wait until he puts down the phone – although you can see that he feels nervous about what you might say: “Yeah?”

It’s not easy to find the right words, because on one hand you can’t imagine how Andrey could be jealous on someone – in your eyes he was the most wonderful human on this planet – but on the other hand you want to take his feelings and thoughts seriously.

It takes you a lot of courage to look at him when asking the next question: “This morning on the practise court, were you really jealous?”

Andrey bites his lip, while he nervously strokes through his hair: “Mhhh…maybe.”

“Why are you jealous on Grigor? You know, there is no need for that?”

He makes a dismissive gesture and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly: “He is very handsome, isn’t he?”

You can’t help but shake your head in disbelief and move closer to him: “Oh yes, he really is…”, you can’t help but grin, “But I know an ATP player who is even more handsome. Do you want to know who it is?”

Andrey gives you a quick look from the corner of his eyes, voice quiet: “Not really.”

“Too bad. I gonna tell you either way.”, you take his hand in yours, “It’s a Russian player…I think his name is Andrey Rublev. Have you ever heard of him?”

Andrey shoots you a half annoyed-half angry glance but the corners of his mouth lift because of your words.

“So, do you know him?”, you continue to play your little ‘game’. Your head skips a beat when a shy smile spreads across his face.

He rolls his eyes, but his smile is getting bigger and bigger: “Maybe…”

“Yeah, I think you do know him. You must know him…because he is really really handsome. The most handsome guy on the whole tour. And he is very funny, and caring…sometimes he is very stubborn as well but that’s okay.”

“And sometimes he is a little stupid because he gets jealous without any reason?”

You shake your head very quickly and look him straight in the eyes now: “No, you aren’t stupid for getting jealous! It’s okay…I understand it.”

You can see that Andrey is relieved about your words – mainly because you two talked about it. Andrey had problems thinking about this all midday.

“You know what’s funny?”, you finally start talking again and chuckle, “There was a tiny little moment during today’s practise session where I thought: Maybe I have to be jealous of Grigor because you two were so cute together…”

Andrey looks at you with big eyes, before he starts giggling and shakes his head: “No no no, I’ll always choose you! You’re way cuter than Grigor!”

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you softly.

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

tagging: @bluetackbaby @lxndonorris @fedalev

#Andrey Rublev x reader #Andrey Rublev x you #Andrey Rublev imagine #Andrey Rublev fanfic #Andrey Rublev fic #tennis imagine #mira's imagine #my writing #my imagine #tennis imagines #tennis fic #tennis fics #tennis fanfic #tennis fanfics #tennis fanfiction #tennis fanfictions

44 notes · View notes

elianamarie-blog · 1 year

Text

The Things You Give Pt. 29

Woooooooww. It's been WAY too long! I'm so sorry my loves. Thank you for still reading my content though! I can't tell youhow much it means to me. You all are amazing and make my day by your likes and comments! I lost a lot of inspiration towards the end of last year and it was hard to write when you don't have that or any of the creative juices flowing, but I fought it because of you guys, so thank you for keeping me writing! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Much love!

February 28, 1979

Point Place, Wisconsin

Forman Residence

Eric Forman’s Basement

“You guys, listen to this ad,” Eric announced. “Do you like to draw? Well, I have been known to trace my hand and turn it into a turkey. If so, have your artistic ability evaluated by the cartoon academy of Fort Lauderdale.”

“Ooh, I think Picasso went there,” Kelso said.

“All I have to do is send in my drawing of Sanchez the turtle and a money order for $19.95. 20 bucks to get judged by a panel of cartoon experts? I'd pay twice that,” Eric said, grabbing a pad and pen.

“Okay, besides that, Donna…how’s the radio station going?” Jackie asked.

“It’s good,” she responded. “I get to host Tuesdays and Thursday’s from one to five A.M. Boss man is even thinking of letting me cohost with—get this—Jerry Thunder!”

“That’s awesome!” Kelso cried out excitedly. “You get to work with ‘The Sound!’” He lowered his voice, imitating the radio station announcement.

“Do you have any idea what this could mean for my career?” Donna continued.

"Oh, my God! You're going to be famous!" Jackie squealed.

“Exactly,” Eric responded. “Awe, my girl is going to be radio famous.”

“What about you, Steven?” Jackie asked, turning to him. “How’s work going?”

“Fine?” Hyde questioned, eyeing her. “Why are you so interested in other people’s lives?”

“Can’t I be interested in my friends’ lives?” she asked innocently.

“No,” he said flatly. “You’ve never have. What’s gotten into you?”

She sighed. “Well, Markus told me that I need to start taking an interest in other people’s lives other than my own, otherwise people won’t really love me like they say they do. And when I said that they do actually love me, he said they were lying to me. Is that true?”

Everyone went silent; not knowing how to respond.

Y/n clicked her tongue. “Um…well…”

“Who’s going to tell her?” Hyde asked. “Because I’m about to hurt her feelings."

“Oh, it’s true!” Jackie whined. “I thought I was being lovable. You know—like the nice princess from The Wizard of Oz.”

“Yeah,” Eric said slowly. “You’re not. You’re more like the wicked witch of the west.”

“Alright, as fun as this is, I need to get to work,” Hyde announced.

“Who’s running the store while you’re here?” Donna asked.

“Angie. She’s really wound tight on when we open,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “She’s always bitching about me not being there early and opening up on time and not closing early. It’s stupid.”

“Man, Angie is so pretty,” Kelso cooed.

“What have I said when talking about my sister?” Hyde asked gruffly.

“Don’t put her name or pretty or anything of the like in the same sentence,” he responded, not making eye contact.

“That’s right,” Hyde responded. “Anyway, Angie likes to jump my ass about everything. I didn’t close last night so now it’s apparently my fault that the store looked like a mess this morning.”

“Well, then who closed?” Y/n asked.

“Me. I closed six hours early and apparently that’s bad business. But in my defense, I had an important appointment to go to.”

“Oh, your baby appointments?” Kelso asked as he started throwing a ball into the air.

“No, I had an appointment at my darts tournament.”

“Steven,” Y/n lectured. “I know your sister is hard to work with but maybe you shouldn’t make her make your life more miserable.”

“Betrayal!” Steven cried out, pretending to be offended at his wife.

Y/n shook her head at him.

“I thought you guys didn’t get along?” Fez asked. “Why are you defending her?”

“Hey, right is right and wrong is wrong,” she replied. “And right now, Steven is wrong.”

“I think this calls for a divorce,” Eric said.

“Shut up, Eric,” Y/n said, propping her feet up on the table. “Steven, if you want her to get off your ass, maybe try pulling your weight around the store. It’s called running a business.”

“I’d hate to admit it, Hyde, but she’s right,” Donna said.

“What’s going on here?” Hyde asked. “I can’t believe you’re on her side!”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but this time she’s right,” Y/n responded. “It’s like me doing all the cooking and cleaning around the house and taking care of the kids while you’re away at work, and then coming home just to go to bed.”

Steven blinked at her. “Okay, where’s the lesson in that?”

“Steven!” she screeched. “My point is you can’t just show up and not expect to do any work. Especially at your own store.”

Steven made a face and sighed. “Fine. But I’m going to complain the whole time.”

She shook her head at him. “That’s fine. As long as work gets done. And I expect the same at home too!”

“Sure. But just so you know you’re going to have pay me too.”

“I can’t. It’s illegal if I do,” she sassed.

He smirked at her. “I love you.”

She smiled. “Love you, too.”

“Alright, well, I’m going.”

“Oh, don’t forget, we have a class later tonight.”

“What class?”

“A class on how to take care of a baby,” she said. “Remember? I signed us up for it with my mom. The same class Kelso and Brooke took.”

He groaned. “Come on, Y/n, do I really have to go?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m not going to be the only one changing poopy diapers.”

“See, I was thinking I could be in charge of what goes into the babies and you’re in charge of what comes out.” The look on her face said otherwise. “Fine.”

She perked up immediately. “Thank you. It’s at 6. Be here by 5:30.”

He huffed. “Okay.” With that, he walked out the basement, leaving the rest behind.

“And I’m hungry,” Y/n said and brought her feet down. “Babies and I want a snack. Maybe a bowl of fruit. And then some ice cream.” As she struggled to get up, Donna reached out to her. “No, no I got it.” She pushed herself up, but fell back into the chair. She sucked in a breath and launched herself out of the chair, barley landing on her feet. “See,” she said, breathing hard. “I got it.” She wobbled upstairs.

“What did she mean by that?” Fez asked innocently.

“What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“When she said it’s illegal if she pays him. I thought getting an allowance was normal?”

Everyone giggled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Think about it, Fez,” Jackie said. “Really think. Long and hard.”

Fez was quiet as everyone looked at him, waiting for him to get it. It didn’t take a long for a sly smile to break out on his face. He giggled. “I get it.”

“We should probably go too,” Kelso said and tapped Fez’s shoulder. “We have an apartment that we’re going to go look at.”

“You guys haven’t found an apartment yet?” Jackie asked. “Fez, where have you been sleeping this whole time?”

“With me,” Kelso responded. “But I think my parents are getting sick of us.”

“What—you guys giggle like a bunch of school girls all night?” Donna chuckled.

Fez’s eyes grew a fraction. “Have you guys been spying on us?!”

“It’s true?!” Eric said, laughing.

“You know what? We really need to get going,” Kelso said and grabbed the scruff of Fez’s jacket. “See ya!”

“I swear, they’re in love or something,” Donna chuckled.

“Eh,” Eric shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

--Time Skip—

Y/n and Steven walked into the classroom that night. Plastic babies littered the room and a few other soon-to-be parents were all there and seated.

“Come on, Y/n, do we really have to do this?” Steven whined.

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “We’ve never been around babies before so we need to be prepared.”

Just as she said that, a large impregnated woman waddled by them and sat in a seat farthest away from them.

“Oh, my God,” Y/n said under her breath. “She has to be in her third trimester. That looks painful.”

“Either she’s having multiple kids or her baby is going to rip her apart.”

“Not helping, Steven.”

“Hey, you two,” Kitty cooed excitedly as she walked up to the couple. “Steven, you ready to talk about burps, boo-boo’s, and binkies?”

“Yeah, sure,” he responded flatly.

“Oh, come on don’t be such a sour puss,” Kitty said. “You should be glad to be here! Especially since I’m going to be the one to guide you into parenthood.” She gave them an excited, crinkled smile.

“I wouldn’t say I’m glad—” Steven started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Shut up, Steven.”

He clamped his jaw shut as Kitty continued.

“Well, I am so glad that you’re here anyway,” she said. “It makes it better knowing that I’m guiding you to become better parents for my grandbabies!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Forman,” Steven said genuinely.

“You’re welcome, dear.” She turned to address the rest of the class. “Okay, everyone have a seat!” Kitty announced from the front. As everyone sat down, Kitty began. “Now, when your little bundle of joy is first born, they will spend almost 20 hours a day pooping and sleeping. Who else can tell me what else they’ll be doing?”

Y/n raised her hand eagerly. “Eating.”

“Great job, Y/n!” Kitty praised. “Now, what do babies eat?”

“Breast milk and formula!” a red-headed woman said eagerly.

“Yes, great job! Now, when your baby is born and it’s time to breastfeed, don’t be alarmed when the first couple of feedings may feel uncomfortable. Once the baby latches on properly to the nipple, it should feel less uncomfortable and more of a tugging on the breast.”

As Kitty continued her teaching, Steven leaned into Y/n’s ear and smirked. “So…nothing new for you then, right?”

“Shut up, Steven,” Y/n said, blushing.

He snickered and leaned away, eyes forward.

“And just so you know,” Y/n whispered, leaning into his side this time. “You just burned yourself.”

“What? How so?”

She chuckled breathlessly. “You basically said that all you do is tug…like a baby.”

His smirk dropped immediately. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” she chuckled. “You just got burned, sucka!”

The room went dead silent as Kitty stared at them.

“Is there something you two would like to share?” she asked the couple who looked at like deer caught in the headlights.

“No,” Steven said.

“No, ma’am,” Y/n said in unison.

Kitty gave a curt nod before returning to the board.

⧝⧝⧝

“Hey, this place is nice!” Kelso exclaimed as he and Fez walked through the empty apartment. “Big enough to bring the ladies over.” He smirked at his friend.

“And your daughter?” Fez reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

The two young men walked around the two-bedroom apartment, admiring it. The living room was spacious with the bathroom and master bedroom immediately to the left of entering. Straight ahead was a decent sized kitchen with a half wall bar looking straight into it. There was a hall to the left of it that lead to the smaller bedroom and a sliding door.

“I think we should go fill out an application before someone else nabs it,” Fez said and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go find the landlord before I—oof!” As he had turned around to leave, he had bumped straight into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry—oh, it’s you.”

The man stood there with a disgusted look on his face and folded arms across his chest. He was skinny with short thinning brown hair with a matching mustache. “Fez,” he said.

“Fenton,” Fez replied in the same tone and matched his stance.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

Fez brought his eyebrows together. “What do you mean ‘your’ apartment?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Fenton smirked. “I’m the landlord of this joint. And before you fill out an application, the answer is no.”

“What? Why?” Fez asked, disappointed.

“You know why,” he responded and turned to Kelso. “But…I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

Kelso shifted uncomfortably in his place. “Uh…thanks man, but I don’t swing that way.”

“You don’t have to for me to give you this apartment. You’re way too pretty to pass that easily.”

A smug smile pressed into Kelso’s lips. “I know.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you this apartment right here, right now under one condition: You don’t make him your roommate.”

Kelso looked between the two men, stumbling for words. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“Are you serious? You can’t decide right now?” Fez asked, hurt.

“Well, I mean—I need a place, man. A place to raise my daughter.”

“But you can’t just leave me! You need a roommate to help pay the rent and I need a place a live!”

“I know, man, but I got to think of me and my daughter,” Kelso admitted sheepishly.

“I can’t believe this,” Fez said. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Fez, I am your friend!”

“No, you’re not, you son of a bitch!” He stomped out the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Fez!” Kelso called and started to run out the door, but Fenton caught him by the shoulder.

“Hey, the offer is still on the table, my friend.”

Kelso shook his head. “No. Not from you.” He walked out, to go find his friend.

⧝⧝⧝

“Oh, that’s great Kyra,” Kitty said, watching the redhead wrap a cloth diaper around a baby doll. “Snug so that it fits well and comfortable, but not too snug to cause rash and discomfort. And certainly not too loose! You can imagine what happens when it is!” Kitty laughed and moved onto to the next couple—Y/n and Hyde.

Y/n was struggling to wrap the diaper correctly around the plastic baby. The diaper wouldn’t stay pinned, or it wouldn’t fit right. She was beginning to get flustered and frustrated.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” Steven muttered.

“I know how it’s done, Steven!” Y/n snapped.

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled and finally pinned the diaper. “There!” She held up the baby in the air, showcasing it to her husband.

Kitty stepped up to their side with a look of concern. “Well, that’s very good, Y/n, but the needle of the pin isn’t supposed to go into the baby’ stomach.”

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. “Oh, forget it!” She threw the baby down onto the table. “I’m going to be a terrible mother!”

“No, no, you’re not,” Steven said gently and picked up the baby. “I’m probably going to be a worse father—” Y/n shot him a glare. “I mean…a bad father while you…my darling…are you going to be the best gosh darn mother out there.”

She made a face at him, not believing him.

“L-look, it’s not that hard, see?” he stammered and unpinned the needle from the baby. With gentle hands, he undid the diaper and folded the bottom up, then left, and then right. He carefully pinned the diaper down and brought the baby up.

“Wow, great job, Steven!” Kitty cheered. “This looks amazing!”

“Where did you learn to do this?” Y/n asked, confused and marveled at the diaper.

“Well, when my mom would bring home one of my ‘uncles’, he sometimes would bring a kid and my mom, being the terrible person that she is, would make me in charge of watching these kids. Sometimes they were still in diapers. And if I didn’t want my house smelling like crap, then I had to learn how to change a diaper. So…viola.” He held the baby in the palm of his hand.

Y/n stared at it for a second with watery eyes before turning around and stomped out the room.

Steven sighed and set down the baby. “I better go after her. I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Forman.”

Y/n was about to exit the building when Steven called after her.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Please, leave me alone,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anybody right now.”

“Look, come on,” he said, now at her side and grabbed her elbow. “You know you’re going to be the best mom you can be.”

“How can you know that? If I can’t put on a simple diaper, what makes you think I can do anything else?”

Steven chuckled at her.

“This isn’t funny, Steven!”

“No, no, it’s just that I find humorous that it’s you instead of me.”

“What?” she spat.

“I mean I thought it’d me feeling this way instead of you. I always thought you’d be the one to know what to do before me.”

“Well, I’m glad I could to be of service,” she deadpanned.

“Look, Doll,” he said and grabbed her hands. “You’re going to be great, I promise.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said solemnly and withdrew her hands. “I need to go, I’ll see you at home.”

“Where you going?”

“There’s someone I need to go talk to.” She pushed open the door to walk out.

“You can’t go!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because we drove here together!”

“Oh, right.”

⧝⧝⧝

Y/n raised her fist and nervously knocked on the door in front of her. Padded footsteps could be heard from inside before the door swung open.

Brooke stood in front of her in a pink night gown, hair brushed and braided down her back. “Y/n…what are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but…I was wondering if I can talk to you?”

“Uh…sure,” Brooke replied, a little surprised to see someone she barley spoke to standing on her doorstep. She opened the door wider, gesturing for Y/n to come in. She made her way to the kitchen. “Have a seat and make yourself at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Um…no thank you,” she replied and closed the door behind her. “I won’t be here long.”

“Okay,” Brooke said, grabbing a mug of hot tea and sat down next to Y/n. She smiled at the visibly bothered girl who sat down beside her and crossed her legs. “What’s up?”

Y/n sighed, struggling to find the right words. “When—when you were pregnant with Betsy…were you nervous?”

Brooke tilted her head in thought, jutting her lower lip out. “Well…sure. I mean, who isn’t when it’s their first child?” She chuckled, remembering the thought. “Especially when the father of your child is…well…Michael.”

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Her gaze dropped to her hands that laid in her lap. “Did you ever feel like you were going to be a bad mom? Because you had no idea what the hell you’d be doing?”

Brooke nodded. “Yeah…I did. Michael and I went to that baby class Mrs. Forman teaches and I could barley put the diaper on that stupid plastic baby.”

Y/n perked up. “Me too! How did you learn to do it?”

Brooke smiled gently at her. “It became second nature once I held Betsy in my arms.”

Y/n was silent for a minute. “But what if it doesn’t? What if—what if I do everything wrong and fail my babies?”

“You’re not going to,” Brooke soothed and tapped Y/n’s knee. “Once they are born, your motherly instincts will kick in. It’s expected.”

“Wasn’t for Steven’s mom.”

“Steven’s mom is a special case,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “You’re not going to be like her.”

“Well, I know that!” Y/n exclaimed, making Brooke laugh. “I just don’t want to be dunce that can’t figure out how to keep a baby happy.”

“You want to know the secret to a happy baby?” Brooke asked, leaning in.

Y/n perked up. “Yes!”

“There isn’t,” she deadpanned. “You’re never going to have a happy baby 100 percent of the time. They’re going to cry when they’re hungry, tired, have a full diaper, or just want to be held. Sometimes, they’re gonna cry just to cry.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. At some point they’re going to get old enough to throw a fit. Betsy is old enough now to scream when she gets mad.”

“Really?” Y/n asked, most surprised than the last time she asked.

“Yeah,” Brooke sighed and rubbed her temples. “I love that little girl with all my heart, but sometimes I just want to give her a small taste of my mother’s bourbon in her milk so she can go to sleep.”

“Wait…do you?” she asked, taken aback and if she were being honest…a little amused.

“No,” Brooke chuckled and took a sip of her tea. “It’s tempting though when it’s three a.m. and she still isn’t asleep.”

Y/n chuckled. “I can imagine.” She looked down into her lap as a sudden pressure formed on her chest. “You know what? I think I’ll take that tea now.”

Brooke noticed her sudden change in demeanor, nodded quickly and rushed to the kitchen to grab her a cup of tea. When she rushed back in with a hot cup, she saw Y/n taking slow, steady breaths. Y/n accepted the cup graciously.

“I’m don’t think I’m ready to have kids,” she quivered, taking a sip from her tea.

Brooke looked at her awkwardly. “Erm…wouldn’t you rather be talking about this with your friends—"

Y/n didn’t even bother to hear what she was saying. “I’m going to make a terrible mother. I mean—I don’t know anything about babies! I read in the book Eric got me for Christmas that babies have six different cries. SIX! How am I supposed to know which ones which?”

“Okay, I guess we’re talking about it.”

“And then top of that, if I somehow manage to keep them alive, I have no idea what kind of parent I’m going to be.”

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay,” Brooke said nervously, trying to soothe her.

“No, it��s not,” Y/n practically sobbed. “I have no idea what I’m going to do!”

“I felt the same way,” she responded calmly.

“You did?”

“Oh, yeah. I had no idea what I was doing when Betsy was born. But eventually, it got easier.”

Y/n let out a small breath of relief. “Maybe I have a chance.”

“Of course you do. Every mom that is worried about being a good mom is a good mom.”

She moved the corner of her mouth upwards. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Brooke scooted a little closer to her. “Listen, becoming a new parent is stressful enough as it is. It doesn’t help when you’re eighteen and just starting your career at the library and you get knocked up at a Molly Hatchet concert.” She clicked her tongue, staring off angrily in the distance and shook her head. “Stupid Michael.”

Y/n’s gaze flicked to her and then anywhere else in the room, confused. “I assume we’re no longer talking about me.”

Brooke shook her head. “Sorry. Look, my point is, you’re going to make an amazing mom. I was scared too, but now I can’t imagine my life without my daughter. Regardless of how you feel, you’re going to make mistakes, but that’s not going to make your children love you any less.”

She smiled at Brooke. “Thanks, Brooke. That means a lot.”

“Anytime,” she hummed and leaned back. “So…what’s it like being married to one of the stooges?”

Y/n chuckled. “You got some time?”

⧝⧝⧝

“Push, Y/n, push!” Steven encouraged as he held his wife’s hand.

Y/n sat there with her legs hiked up on a table, a female nurse sitting between her legs.

“Steven, before we continue, I just wanted to say that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had,” Y/n said with a certain twinkle in her eyes.

Steven smirked. “I know. Now, come on just a couple more pushes!”

She hunched forward and barley pushed before a squealing baby could be heard.

“Congratulations it’s a boy!” the nurse exclaimed.

“Oh, my God,” the couple breathed together as they watched another nurse take the baby away.

“Okay, one more time,” the nurse said and had Y/n push once again. As easily as the first, another baby popped out, it’s cries echoing the room. “Congrats, it’s another boy!”

As the Hyde’s sat back to relax, satisfied smile on their faces, the doctor perked up.

“What?” Y/n asked. “What is it?”

The nurse’s eyes lifted to meet Steven’s and Y/n’s. “Another baby is coming out…”

“WHAT?!” the couple yelled in unison.

“That’s impossible,” Y/n panicked.

“No one told you were having triplets?” the nurse asked.

“NO!” the couple once again said in unison.

“Okay, this is almost unheard of!” she exclaimed almost excitedly. “Okay, Y/n I’m going to need you to push one more time.”

“N-no! I’m not ready to have another baby!” she cried out.

“It’s a little late for that now!” Kitty said from the corner of the room. “You should’ve used a condom!”

“Mom?” Y/n asked through her quickened breaths. “When did you get here?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been here the whole time!” she said. “Now, saddle up and push!”

All Y/n had to do was barley push for the baby to come out.

“It’s another boy!” The nurse held the baby in her hands before her eyes grew wide. “Another one is coming!”

“NO!” the couple screamed together.

“It’s a girl! Oh…another one!”

The couple screamed as the baby came out without Y/n needing to push.

As the baby girl came out, another one came out, and then another, and another…and another. They kept on coming until there was a total of 100 babies—crying, screaming, pooping, and drooling.

“Look, Steven,” Y/n gushed. “Look at our beautiful family.” As she spoke, her voice grew deeper and distorted.

Steven stared at her in disbelief at her sudden attitude change when not even a minute ago she was panicking.

“Wait—what?” he asked through bated breaths. “This isn’t—this isn’t real. This isn’t happening.”

“Oh, but it is,” she replied, her smile growing in a distorted and an unnatural way. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was possessed—or the joker. “Steven, there’s no way out of this. You did this to me and now you must face before your consequences.”

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere. I—you’re not Y/n. My Y/n knows that.”

“You’re right,” she replied, now standing up. Her body seemed lankier, her limbs longer now. Her eyes grew dark as her skin paled. “Y/n is not here anymore.”

“Steven…” a weak, fragile voice came from behind him. He spun around to see a mirror facing him. Instead of seeing his own reflection, he saw his wife standing there. She looked small and frail, but it was her. Her hair once beautiful hair was dull and lacked life. Her face looked gaunt and her eyes were sunken—exhausted. What once was life and happiness and love in her eyes now only showed sadness. “Steven, I want out.”

He ambled over to the mirror, scared and confused in what appeared in front of him. “What the hell is happening?”

“I need help,” she cried. “Please, I need help!”

“With what?! Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it!”

“You should know! You caused this!” Y/n screamed at him, tears rolling down her face.

“Caused what?!”

“This,” the other Y/n croaked in a deep voice and pointed a long finger at the mountain of screaming babies. “You failed your family.”

“No! I—I swear I didn’t—I don’t want to!”

“But you did!” The real Y/n screamed. “You left me! I was drowning and you did nothing but watch me! Now, I’m nothing but an empty shell of what I once was! How could you do this to me?! You promised me!”

“But I’m still here!”

“For now,” the ugly, creepy Y/n said. “You’re going to leave just like the man who raised you did.”

“This is all your fault!” his real wife screamed, eyes now wide and erratic. She pointed her finger at him, tears still streaming down her face. “Your fault! Look what you made of me! This is your fault!”

“No!” Steven cried out. He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “This isn’t real! This can’t be.”

“But it is,” a familiar voice came from the mirror. Steven opened his eyes to not see his wife anymore, but to see the one person he thought he’d never see.

“Dad?” He asked, shakily.

“Hey, Steven,” Bud said, shoving his hands in his pockets casually. His shaggy brown hair still hung passed his ears and he wore a flannel shirt and jeans—the last outfit he saw him in before he left him.

Steven couldn’t respond. He ran his hands through his hair, but when he did he saw Bud mimic his movements. As he brought his hands back down to his side, Bud did the same. He waved at the mirror only to his horror to see his supposed father wave his hand. When Steven inched closer to it, Bud followed suit.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Bud continued, a smirk painting his face. “Get a grip on reality, Steven. This is your future!”

“No, I am nothing like you!”

Bud clicked his tongue. “Then why did you do what you did?”

Steven shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you keep thinking that. But you’ll eventually end up just like your dad.”

“No, I won’t!” Steven seethed. “You don’t know me.”

“But I do. You’re just like everybody else in this family—a lowlife. You’ve got nothing to bring to the table.”

Steven’s chest was heaving from anger. “Go to hell, Bud.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“What—?”

Before Steven could finish his sentence, the ground beneath him disappeared and swallowed him whole. He screamed as he fell through the never-ending darkness.

“No!” Steven screamed as he jerked awake. It took him a minute to take in his surroundings, gathering his bearings. When he realized it was just a dream, he was heaving and his heart was racing. He glanced over at the bedside clock and it read 4:40am. He looked to his left to see his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. Seeing her there and looking healthy and not possessed brought him a wave of peace and relief. His sudden jerking movements must have wakened her because she stirred awake.

“Babe?” she asked groggy. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his racing heart calming down. “Just a bad dream.”

She hummed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He stared down at her, taking her in, trying to forget the image of her from his dream. "No, I'm okay."

"Come here.” She opened her arms and he graciously fell into them. She rubbed his back and caressed his hair, making him feel safe. “It was just a nightmare. It’s over now. You’re safe.”

His grip around her tightened and her belly pressed into his stomach. “I know.”

“Good.”

As they began to fall back into their slumber, Steven felt something move across his stomach. At first, he thought Y/n had shifted her position. But it wasn’t until he felt a little poke to his stomach.

“What the—” Steven said, scrambling away from his wife. “Did you feel that?!”

The feeling jolted her awake as well. “Yeah, I did.” She felt more movement and another poke to her stomach. “Oh, my God…I think the babies are kicking!”

“Seriously?!” he asked, surprised. He pressed his hands to her stomach, waiting for another kick. When it came, his heart skipped a beat. “Oh, my God. There’s actually something in there.”

“Yeah,” she replied, holding her stomach in awe. “There is.”

Steven looked up to meet her loving gaze. She cupped his face before he kissed her belly. “Does it feel weird?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “But a good weird.”

Another kick to her stomach. “Man, these kids are kicking like crazy!”

“I know! This is incredible.”

“It really is,” he whispered.

Y/n tilted her head. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah…just. Makes it real, you know?”

She placed her hands over his. “I do.”

He huffed through his nose and pressed his lips to her belly once more. “I promise to be the best dad I can be.”

Y/n’s heart and stomach filled with butterflies. “And I promise to be the best mom I can be.”

He looked at her once more before reaching up and placing a sweet kiss to her lips.

∞∞∞

“So, he’s not talking to you now?” Donna asked Kelso as he, Jackie, Eric, Y/n, Steven and Kitty sat in the kitchen waiting for brunch to finish cooking.

“No,” Kelso responded. “He packed up his stuff and left. I called his host parents and they haven’t heard anything from him. He hasn’t called me to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know, I’m worried about him guys.”

“Hey, Kelso, if things don’t work out with Angie, you and Fez should get together,” Y/n joked.

“Wait, why Angie?” Steven asked, glaring at his friend. “Kelso, what does she mean by that?”

“Nothing. It was a joke,” Kelso chuckled nervously and shot a glare to Y/n.

“Was it?” Steven pushed and turned to his wife. “Now, darling, were you joking? You wouldn’t lie to your husband, would you?”

Y/n gulped nervously. “N-no, of course not.”

“Then what did you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she stuttered. “I was just…making a poor joke.”

Hyde squinted at her behind his glasses. “I don’t believe you.”

“Wow! Look at the time I really should be going!” She tried to get up quickly, but the new weight of her stomach slowed her down. She achingly stood and tried to stand, but Steven grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Y/n,” he said sternly. “Tell me the truth. Or I’m going to stop doing the thing that you like.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” Kitty said, stirring the pan of the food.

Y/n stared into her husband’s eyes before cracking. “Kelso has been secretly dating your sister!”

“Y/n!” Kelso shouted. “What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry!” she cried out. “I can’t lie to him! He’s my husband. Besides, when he threatens to take certain things away, he means it.”

Steven smiled proudly. “Damn straight.”

“Look, man, I—” Kelso began, but was cut off by Hyde.

“Nah, you listen to me. I told you to stay away from Angie and you went behind my back and did it anyway. Now, you’re going to pay.”

“Wow, this sounds familiar,” Eric piped up, pretending to think. He looked at Hyde, smirking. “Oh, yeah.”

“Shut up, Forman!” Steven snapped and turned his attention back to Kelso. “Look, I’m not going to tell you again. You’re going to end it, and you’re going to end it now.”

“What? C’mon, man it’s not like we did it or anything!” Kelso defended. “Yet at least.” He stuck his tongue out and nudged Y/n.

“Yeah…I’m not going to do that,” she responded, resting her hand on her stomach.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you knocking her up too,” Hyde said. “And if you do, I will put you six feet under.”

“Yeah, how terrible would that be?” Eric mocked, still smirking.

Hyde glared at his brother-in-law. “I said shut up.” He turned back to Kelso. “I mean it. You and her? Are done.”

“Alright, man, jeez,” Kelso said and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright,” Steven said, satisfied with the answer. “Now, Y/n…”

“Yes, dear?” she asked nervously.

“I’d like to know why you tried to cover Kelso’s ass.”

“I didn’t,” she said, her voice getting higher.

“Yes, you did.” He leaned back in his chair, slinging his arm down the back, and cocked his head to the side. “You want to tell me why?”

“Uh…” she stuttered, her mouth going dry. “Guys, the babies kicked last night!”

“What?!” Everyone shouted, her diversion successful.

Kitty ran over to her and placed her hand on her daughter’s belly. “Oh, my God! My grandbabies kicked!” After a few seconds of no movement, her eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, babies. Kick for Grandma. Kick!”

“Mom, I don’t think that’s how th—” Eric began, but Kitty cut him off with her joyous screeching.

“One of them kicked!” she cried out. “I can’t believe it! One of them kicked! Red! Red, honey, get in here!”

“What?” he asked calmly, entering the kitchen.

“The babies kicked!” she replied excitedly.

“Oh, that’s great,” he said with a grin.

“Come feel it!”

Red cleared his throat and stayed near the door. “No, it’s okay. I believe you.”

“Red, come feel your grandchildren,” Kitty scolded.

“No, I really don’t want to.”

“Red Forman, come feel the life your daughter is bringing into this world right now!”

“But…it’s so awkward,” he whined and cautiously stepped over to Y/n. His hand hovered over her bulging belly.

“It’s okay, Dad, it’s not going to bite,” Y/n chuckled.

Red sighed grumpily before barley placing his fingertips on her stomach. He stood there for a few seconds before he felt movement. His eyes widened slightly before pressing more of his hand onto her belly. Another kick to his hand caused him to withdraw.

He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, there’s that.”

“Red, those are your grandchildren and that’s all you got to say?” Kitty asked.

“Well…there really are babies in there.”

“Yeah, and in three months they’ll be here,” Kitty mentioned, but when she did Hyde’s and Y/n’s faces dropped.

“Th-three months?” Hyde stuttered; his previous frustration complete dissipated.

“Well, yeah!” Kitty answered. She gave them an astonished look as they stared back in panic. “Did you guys think that they weren’t just going to come?”

“No, I-I just thought that w-we had more time,” Y/n said and looked to her husband in a panic.

“What do you mean by that?” Kitty asked, straightening up.

“We, uh, we don’t exactly—” Hyde started.

“Oh, my God!” Kitty yelled. “You guys don’t have anything for the babies?”

“Not exactly…” Y/n answered, looking down.

“Okay, then what do you have?” Kitty asked, standing straight and put her hands on her hips.

“We…have the onesies…that Eric gave us,Y/n said hesitantly.

“That’s all you have?!” Kitty screeched, causing Eric, Y/n, and Steven to cover their ears closest to her.

“Mom, please…dogs can hear you,” Eric said, walking away.

“Steven, what are we going to do?” Y/n asked, worryingly looking to her husband.

He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. I can ask WB if he can give me an advance on my paycheck. I can’t imagine how much this stuff is going to cost.”

“No need,” Kitty said, excited. “This gives us a perfect opportunity to have a baby shower!”

“No!” Red shouted. “No. More. Parties!”

“Red, it won’t be for us,” Kitty argued. “It’ll be for them.” She placed both hands on her daughter’s belly.

“Don’t do this,” Red said. “Don’t use our unborn grandchildren as a way to get your way.”

“I’m not!” she responded and stood straight. “We can have this baby shower and get everything that we need! We won’t have to spend a dime!”

“We still have to spend money on the party!”

“Actually, we can cover that. Right, Steven?” Y/n asked.

“Uh…do I have to be there?” he asked.

“No,” Y/n answered, knowing the answer will satisfy her husband.

“Then yes we can!” he said, more upbeat.

“There you go!” Kitty said, facing her husband. “And I think this calls for the godmother to get everything ready.” She eyed Donna who was chewing on a piece of bacon.

“By myself?” she responded with wide eyes.

“Wait, what?!” Jackie screeched. “You made her godmother?!”

“Well, yeah,” Y/n answered honestly. “She’s my brother’s girlfriend and my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“I told you not to tell her,” Y/n said to Kitty who looked away awkwardly and busied herself with preparing more food. “Jackie, you are my best friend. But I can’t make you my maid of honor and the godmother of my children.”

“Well, why not?”

Y/n made a face at her. “Because I have other friends.”

“Yeah, but I’m the best one!”

"Y/n, let me handle this one,” Eric said and turned to the petite brunette. “Nobody cares. Alright, moving on.”

Jackie clicked her tongue and huffed, sitting down at the counter.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Kitty said. “We need to decide when we can have the party.”

“Hey, are we just going to forget about my problem?” Kelso piped up.

“Oh, yeah,” Steven said. “Kelso, the best thing you can do is…to stop talking about it.” He grinned at his friend when he shot him a glare.

“Steven,” Y/n said firmly and turned back to Kelso. “Just give him a couple days. He’ll come back around.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled.

A beat passed when the sliding door opened and Fez walked in.

“Hello beautiful people,” he greeted cheerfully before his eyes landed on Kelso. “Oh, hello.”

“Hey, buddy. We need to figure this out,” Kelso said.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Fez said bitterly. “You picked an apartment over me! From my arch nemesis out of all people!”

“Fez, he’s not your arch nemesis,” Eric pointed out. “He just gets on your nerves.”

“It doesn’t matter; he still chose the apartment over me!”

“So I can have a place to raise my daughter!” Kelso defended. “Fez, man, you’re my best friend, but I got to think about my kid.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough,” Red said. “I’m going down to the apartment with you and talking to that damn landlord.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Red. That means a lot,” Fez said sweetly.

“Don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” Red replied. “I don’t want you moving back into my house!”

“Also, a fair point,” Steven said in a taunting way and got up to put his plate in the sink.

“Be ready in five minutes,” Red said, grabbing his keys. “I don’t want to deal with this crap any longer.”

“Can we please get back to the topic at hand?” Kitty asked. “When should we have the shower?”

“How ‘bout next Saturday?” Donna suggested. “Gives us enough time to plan and not scatter like we did for the wedding.”

“We’re having a party?” Fez asked. “I want to go to a party.”

“Well, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Kitty cheered, ignoring Fez. “Oh, I am so excited! I’ll start the guest list!”

“And I’ll start the food and decorations!” Donna said.

“Make sure you put cake on that list,” Y/n said. “I’m on a chocolate kick.”

“Oh, and finger sandwiches!” Kitty exclaimed. She gasped. “And tea!”

“Are we having a baby shower or a tea party?” Fez asked.

“Are you coming?” Y/n asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he responded. “I love planning parties!”

“Fez, it’s a baby shower,” Jackie said. “It’s not going to be a party.”

“Awe, party poopers,” he responded disappointed.

“Well, we could use you,” Donna said. “We could use your theme expertise.”

“What about me?!” Jackie said. “I have a good taste!”

“Fine, Jackie and Fez can work together,” Y/n said, exhausted already.

“Yay!” Jackie cheered, clapping her hands. “Oh, Fez we have so much to go over!”

“While this is going on, me and the boys will be at the bar,” Steven smirked and continued eating his food.

“Can you guys take Markus with you?” Jackie asked. “I’m trying to get him ‘in’ with the group.”

“Doesn’t he have any of his own friends?” Steven asked, annoyed.

“Duh, but I’d like him to get closer to you guys because I don’t like his friends,” she said candidly.

“Why not?” Y/n asked, grabbing for a strawberry.

“They’re just…eck,” she responded.

“What do you mean ‘eck’?” Eric asked.

“I mean…they’re weird!”

“Weirder than us?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, believe it or not!”

“Jackie, I don’t want to take my ex’s new boyfriend out on guy’s night,” Steven said. “It’s almost like returning to the scene of the crime.”

“No, it’s not!” she protested.

“I second what Hyde said,” Eric said, “It’s weird.”

“Ah, c’mon guys, please!” she begged. “I’d like for him to be here more often.”

“Then, he can just be here more often,” Donna said, pointing out the obvious.

“Alright, let’s go,” Red called out. “I want to get back to catch the Packer’s game.”

“But I want to talk about the party!” Fez whined.

“You want join in on some tooty frooty baby shower or do you want to get a house that has a roof and running water unlike the hut you came from?” Red threatened.

Fez’s eyes widened. “See ya.” He ran out the door to meet Red at the car.

--Time Skip—

��Are you Fenton?” Red asked as he walked into the empty apartment. In the middle of the room stood the familiar bald man with a mousy moustache. “I’m here to talk about the apartment.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Fenton responded, flamboyantly and smiled. “It’s still available. And F.Y.I so am I.”

Red scrunched his face at him. “Look, I have a wife.”

“And I have a football, but I never use it.”

“Red!” Kelso called out, storming into the room. “I know you told us to wait in the car, but Fez keep playing his bongo music!”

“It’s called jazz, you philistine!” Fez yelled, trailing behind him.

“Oh, you’re with him,” Fenton responded, unpleased. “Deals off. I gotta get to yoga.”

“Hey, can’t we talk about this?” Red asked.

“No,” he said shortly.

“See, I told you he was going to be—” Fez started, but was cut off by Red.

“Just shut it, or I’ll shut it for you!”

Fenton looked at Red, impressed and if he was being honest, maybe a little turned on. “Well, you just don't take crap from anyone, do you, Mr. Man?”

Kelso sighed. “I knew this was gonna be a waste of time. Come on, Fez. We'll go figure out some other place to live with the baby.” He and Fez walked out in a huff leaving Red and Fenton.

“Baby? No one mentioned they had a baby. That... that's so progressive,” Fenton said.

Red cocked an eyebrow at him. “Progressive?”

“Well, how can I not give the apartment to two men raising a child together?”

Red smiled, understanding what Fenton was implying. “Oh. Yeah, progressive. Yeah, that's what they are. They're as progressive as hell. Why, they're likenewlyweds."

“Mhm,” Fenton hummed. “I wish I knew what that was like. Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride.”

Red nodded. “Right. So, we got a deal?”

“Alright, fine, but they mess up once and they’re out of here.”

Red wanted to open his mouth, but chose to keep it shut. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

--Later in the basement—

“Guys, I can’t believe I graduate in a few months,” Jackie mentioned while the gang hung out. “I’ll finally become a woman!”

“Jackie, you became a woman the night you lost it to Kelso,” Y/n responded, leaning back against the couch. Her big belly now starting to cause her back pain and ankle pain.

“Man, I can’t believe I graduated a year ago,” Eric said. “Man, time really flies when you take two naps a day. I didn’t really do anything.”

“I don’t really think you…I mean you did do…man, you really sat on your ass,” Donna said, giving on trying to comfort her boyfriend.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Eric said glumly. “I mean, I got a letter from the contest and they think I have no artistic talent. You know, I’m starting to think that the cartoon academy of Fort Lauderdale isn’t legitimate.”

“Yeah? What gave it away?” Y/n deadpanned.

“Yep, Forman, we’ve all passed you by,” Hyde said smugly. “I’m running a record store. All the while banging your sister—”

“‘Banging?’” Y/n glared at her husband. “Don’t you mean ‘married?’ I mean, I’m even carrying your kids for God’s sake!”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said calmly and turned back to Eric. “I’m also hitched and about to have kids, Donna’s a deejay, Kelso’s a cop…even Fez has a job now. What’s it again, man? Shower girl? Makeup lady?”

“Shampoo boy!” Fez said loudly and shortly.

“Eh, I was close.”

“What did you being married to Y/n and her carrying your kids have anything to do with the conversation?” Eric asked.

Hyde shrugged. “Just another thing to rub in your face that I’m much further along than you.”

“Wait, so I’m the loser of the group now?” Eric asked, pointing to himself.

“I mean, you’re the one still living with your mommy,” Kelso said.

“Hey, I still live with my mommy,” Y/n said.

“Yeah, but you’re still married to someone who is successful,” Jackie said, leaning against the washing machine. Y/n furrowed her brows, not feeling any better. “Eric just stays home who’s mommy still cuts the crust off his sandwiches.”

Eric ignored Jackie and turned to Kelso. “Man, you’re still living with your mommy.”

“Not for long. Me and Fez are looking for an apartment and the only thing I’ll need my mom for is to do my cooking, laundry, and taking me to the dentist.”

“Well, Eric I feel kinda bad,” Jackie said. “You wouldn’t even be thinking of this kind of stuff if you hadn’t been caught in the brightness of my future.”

“You know what else is scary? If this year went by really fast, imagine where Eric will be in ten years,” Fez said.

Eric’s crappy future, ten years later…

The Vista Cruiser rolled into the Forman driveway in the late afternoon. Eric and Donna exited the car, dressed in Star Trek outfits, coming home from a convention. Eric wore the traditional fleet command uniform while Donna sported a black wig and red general commander dress.

“Thank you for coming to the Star Trek convention with me…Uhura.”

“You can call me Donna now,” she said displeased and walked into the house.

“That’s good, Fez,” Kelso said, coming back to present time. “But I think it’s going to be more like this…”

Eric’s crappy future, ten years from now…

The Vista Cruiser rolled into the Forman driveway in the late afternoon. Eric and Donna exited the car, dressed in Star Wars outfits, coming home from a convention. Eric dressed as Luke Skywalker and Donna dressed in the familiar gown and rolled side buns.

“Thank you for coming to the Star Wars convention…Leia,” Eric said proudly.

“You can call me Donna now,” she said and shuffled back into the house.

“No, you’re both wrong,” Hyde said, smirking. “It’ll be more like this…”

The Vista Cruiser once again rolled into the Forman driveway. The doors to the car opened, Eric jumping out and rounding the car.

“Thanks for coming to the convention with me…Leia,” he said.

Kitty got out of the car and walked over to Eric wearing Leia’s gown and her hair in the same style. She stared at him displeased. “You can call me Mom now.” She hurried inside, eager to get out of the itchy costume.

The gang laughed at Hyde’s theory, upsetting Eric.

“Whoa!” Eric screeched, jumping off the couch.

“They’re just joking around, Eric,” Donna said calmly. “It’s funny.”

“No, it’s not!” he defended, inching towards the stairs. “In fact,…it’s completely possible!” He bounded up the stairs, freaking out.

Y/n laughed and high-fived her husband. “Nice.”

A few moments later…

“All of my friends are on career paths. Even Kelso. Kelso! The kid who thinks N.A.T.O is Japanese for neato,” Eric ranted to his parents who sat in the kitchen. Red was reading the newspaper and Kitty was reading a magazine.

“You know it’s just not fair,” Red said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “You sleep late, you watch TV all day…the job offers should be pouring in.”

“Why don’t you look into that chiropractic school I suggested?” Kitty asked. “They’re having an enrollment seminar. You know, being a chiropractor is a very prestigious job. Even if you move somewhere where there’s no real doctors.”

“Well, I guess chiropractor is as good as anything I've come up with. I have wasted an entire year doing absolutely nothing.”

“Hey, how bout a job stating the obvious?” Red asked, giving Eric a fake smile. “Because you’re really good at that!”

Later…

“So, you’re going to the school, huh?” Y/n asked as they once again gathered in the basement. This time, Markus had joined them who was sitting next to Jackie and Y/n on the couch, with his arm around her. “When do you start?”

“Well, they start Monday, so…probably then,” Eric responded sarcastically.

“Want me to come with you?” Donna asked.

“Wait, really?” Eric asked and turned to his girlfriend.

“Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”

“Awe, you’re such a good girlfriend,” Fez cooed before pretending to gag.

“What was that about?” Hyde asked, leaning back in his usual chair.

“All of you are in loving relationships and I’m over here more single than a freakin’ pringle,” he responded bitterly.

“Hey, I’m single too,” Kelso piped up from the lawn chair.

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’ll have a new girlfriend in, like, five minutes,” Fez replied and slumped on the couch. "I'm going to die alone."

"No, you're not,” Y/n comforted, rubbing his shoulder. “You’ll find someone.”

“Why are you lying?” Eric asked.

“Eric!”

“Yeah,” Jackie agreed with Eric. “He is one freaky, horny little dude.”

“Just ask the couch,” Hyde added in.

“I’m right here!” Fez whined. “Can’t even have the decency to wait until I walk out the room!”

“Jackie, what did we talk about comforting friends?” Markus asked, like he was talking to a toddler.

Jackie looked at the ground. “Don’t be mean.”

“And?”

Jackie rolled her eyes and sighed. “And if I can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

Markus nodded and looked up to everyone. “We’re working on talking nicely to others.”

“Wow,” Eric said amazed. “I like him. Can he stay?”

“Don’t listen to them, Fez,” Donna said. “They’re just being jerks.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Y/n said. “Why don’t one of us set you up?”

“How?” Fez asked. “Do you know anybody?”

“Wait, wait…you’re not going to set up a party with all women are you?” Hyde said. “Because that was annoying.”

“No, no. Something better than that,” Y/n said. “Donna, are there any single ladies at the radio station?”

“The only lady we have there is the receptionist and she’s eighty-eight years old,” she responded.

“Is she single?” Fez asked seriously.

“She’s a widow…does that count?”

“Hm, no,” he shook his head and sat back. “I don’t want to be second choice.”

“That’s what’s stopping you?” Eric asked. “Not the fact that she’s seventy years older than you?”

“Yeah, and you won’t be able to have sex without thinking she’s going to break a hip,” Kelso said. “Or a heart attack.”

“Okay, gross,” Y/n said. “Anyone else that knows a single girl?”

“Well, I mean there’s Simpson from the police academy,” Kelso said.

“No, we all know how that turned out,” Y/n said and turned to her husband. “Do you know anyone at the store?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Eric asked.

“Do you know anyone from staying at home all day?” his twin sassed. “Oh, yeah, you must’ve met someone at the Bum Factory.”

“Damn, did you have bitch flakes this morning?”

“Yeah, along with your sitting-on-your-ass-all-day scrambled eggs,” she snipped.

“Is this about what happened earlier?” Eric asked. “I already said I was sorry!”

“What else would it be?!”

“What happened earlier?” Hyde asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.

“Your idiot brother-in-law happened!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Eric argued.

“If it wasn’t, then I wouldn’t be pissed!”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“Will you two shut up and just tell us what happened?” Hyde snapped. “I need to know if it’s funny so I can make fun of you or kick your ass. It depends.”

“It was just a slice of cake!” Eric said, turning his attention back to Y/n.

“The last slice!” she cried out.

“Just go buy a cake,” Jackie said calmly. “What’s so special about this one?”

“My mom made it! And no one else can make it as good as she can!” Y/n said.

“She probably puts kalua in it,” Jackie said. “She taught me how to make fudge once, and she said kalua was the secret recipe. That’s when I learned that she may have a bit of a drinking problem.”

“Shut up, Jackie. You’re not making it any better,” Y/n said angrily.

“Well, damn. Pregnancy has made you bitchier than before,” Jackie said and got up from the couch to grab a popsicle.

“I’m sure she’ll make it again,” Donna said. “If you ask her nicely, I bet she will.”

“No,” Y/n whined and leaned her head against the headrest of the couch. “I want it now.”

“God, you’re needy,” Eric said. “When are you going to stop?”

“When I get some damn chocolate!” she replied.

“Okay, would it be better if I ran to the store and got you something similar?” Hyde offered. “Anything to make you happy so you can stop whining?”

“I second that,” Eric said.

“No, Eric should go buy it for me,” she pouted. “He’s the one that ate my cake. And he should buy me Fatso Burger because I’m hungry. I’ll call it square then.”

“But I don’t have any money!” he whined.

“That sounds like a you problem,” Y/n said. “Want me to quit being needy? Get me food.”

“Well, why don’t you borrow money from Hyde?” Kelso asked, ignoring the fact that Hyde was moving his hand sharply against his throat, saying to stop. Talking. “Hyde has a lot of it!”

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at Kelso. “Steven and I don’t have a lot of money.”

“Of course, he does!” he continued, still ignoring Hyde as he was now waving his hands.

Y/n looked behind her and Steven stopped quickly, pretending he was just as confused.

“Steven, what’s he talking about?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he replied. He glared at Kelso through his aviators and when his wife turned back around, he mouthed: Shut. Up.

“Yes, you do!” Kelso said. At this point he was amused and continued. “You’ve been telling me that you’ve been stashing money in your secret savings.”

“In your what?!” Y/n screeched.

“No, no, Kelso doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Hyde defended. “He’s talking nonsense from his concussion.”

Kelso scrunched his eyebrows together. “I don’t have a concu—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Hyde threw a soda can at his head. It flew across the room at an impressive speed and smacked Kelso right in the face. No one moved as it was a day-to-day occurrence. At this point, even Markus was desensitized.

“Ow, my eye!” Kelso yelled, dropping to the floor.

“Wow, that was incredibly fast,” Donna said.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Jackie commented, covering her mouth with her fist.

“Hyde, you jerk!” Kelso yelled, stumbling back up to his feet. “I’m going to have a black eye and picture day at the academy is tomorrow!”

“First off: Kelso, here,” Y/n said and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and tossed it across the room. It thumped against his chest before he caught it and pressed it against his face. “And now you,” she growled at her husband. “A secret savings?! Are you kidding me?!”

“It’s not so much of a secret savings as—” he started, now standing from his seat but was interrupted.

“How much is in it?” she asked, her eyes burning a hole in his head.

“Not much,” he replied. “And it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?!” she yelled, angrier than before. “You’re hiding money from me!”

“Actually, you said you have about two grand—” Kelso began but was cut off by Hyde.

“Do you want me to blacken the other eye?!” he barked at him.

“Two thousand dollars?!” Y/n screamed. “I can’t believe this! Do you have any idea what we can do with that money?”

“Yes, that’s why it’s in there!” Hyde yelled back.

“Now, does this happen every day?” Markus whispered to Jackie.

“No…no this is not,” she whispered back.

“What do you mean that’s why it’s in there?!” Y/n asked, bringing everyone’s attention back on them. “Why are you hiding it from me?!”

“Because of…reasons,” Hyde said.

“Reasons like what?! You don’t trust me?”

“No, I don’t!” he yelled back.

"The air in the room dropped. It was like it was sucked out, leaving everyone completely breathless. Y/n felt like she had been punched in the gut.

She was so hurt and angry that she couldn’t speak. She stared at him as the silence grew louder. He refused to break eye contact with her, but his body language—turned halfway away from her and his hands on his hips—said he regretted what he told her.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n finally broke eye contact and stomped her way upstairs without saying another word. After a minute of still silence, Markus decided to speak up.

“So…what else do you guys do for fun?”

“And this is where we’ve talked about speaking in awkward moments,” Jackie said from the corner of her mouth.

Fez sat there, frowning. "Are we supposed to just forget about my problem?!”

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch

122 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 3 months

Text

all we ever wanted was everything

interlude i: henry & mariella - fade into you | ao3 link

pairing: javier peña x female oc, javier peña x named female oc (mariella), male oc x female oc rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: angst, smut, talk of children and pregnancy, marriage, depression, infidelity. word count: 6.7k summary: theirs is a story as old time: married much too young, certain they were pioneers on those unbeaten paths of love. all they ever wanted was everything & all they ever discovered was how none of it was really as original as they had hoped. it is a love story & it is not. a/n: you don’t technically have to read this but i think for the sake of the story & all understanding of mariella as a character, it is recommend. also it does play an important part in the next chapter, but i do think could get by without it.

The clock ticks past midnight at the college library and no one notices. Mariella Tawes and Henry Rath are both little more than lowered heads at the opposite ends of the same room, drawing in the same tedious, steady breaths.

She is studious at the wrong hours, insomniac and homesick, and he is making up for another weekend of fun. His head swarms, full of numbers and equations, and hers tilts, rested on the palm of a tired hand. Mariella’s mouth follows along silently with the words on the page and Henry’s eyes are prone to wandering in her direction. He chances a glance at her now and then, and finds she never looks back, so he grows braver still with the length at which he inspects her each time.

He remembers her name. They had health together last year in that cold, creaky classroom with old Mrs. Severson (who remembered, ironically, as being pretty severe with the deadlines). Her name is Mariella, pronounced Mari-ella. He wonders if she remembers him. She doesn’t seem to notice him from her corner of the world – and didn’t then, either – so he guesses probably not.

Henry is good-looking: hazel eyes, more green than blue, generous nose, boyish smile with a heavy bottom lip, and a head full of thick brown hair that falls shaggily over his ears and cascades just above his eyebrows–just how the girls like it. If you think of an All-American boy–try to conjure up an image–he might be the product you receive. Someone, in the spring of his Freshman year, told him he was the Pacific Northwest’s answer to JFK Jr, so of course he is not alien to the attention of women. He doesn’t really need more of it, but for some reason he’d really like Mariella to look at him just once.

Maybe that’s why he’s staring so hard. It’s not just a glance anymore. He’s inspecting her the way she’s looking at the book in her hands, careful and captivated.

She looks up at him, notices, like she can hear his thoughts. He smiles at her, not as nervous as he ought to be for having been caught. He wanted to be caught. It's the truth. She smiles too, before she ducks her head and finds her book page again. Her cheeks tint red and he feels poorly, but nicely too—liking the idea that he might be something that could make her nervous in a warm way. They go back to their quiet, to their own work, until his hungry stomach upsets the balance in the room thirty minutes later. It grumbles for seconds that feel like hours.

He laughs nervously, embarrassed. She smiles, reserved. “I haven’t eaten in a while,” he says.

“I think the pizza place is open down the street,” she provides kindly. He nods; it is. During the week, he works there. It is odd that he has never seen her there.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to go with me?” He is personable. Mariella is less so, it seems, but not in an unwelcoming way. He can tell she’s shy. He remembers that she rarely ever raised her hand in class.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got to study.” The book in her hand is lifted, as if to say: see.

He smiles. “That’s fine. I’ll bring one back for us.”

He doesn’t give her the time to protest. When he comes back, cheeks red from the winter bite, he’s got half cheese, half pepperoni. She’s still in the corner, softly whispering a passage to herself. “Which kind?” he asks, opening the box in front of her.

“It’s okay, really,” she tells him. She smiles. “Eat your pizza. I don’t need any.”

“Are you sure?” he frowns.

She shakes her head again. “I don’t want to take your pizza. I’m okay, really,” she insists, still smiling. A polite smile, cushioning a rejection.

He gives up, trying not to act too defeated. He probably wouldn’t take his pizza either, now that he thinks about it. “Okay,” he tells her. He goes back to his side of the room, opens the math textbook that has been making his head feel heavy, and gets back to work. Grease stains the college-lined paper as he begins yet another problem.

“You’re Henry, aren’t you?” she asks out of nowhere.

When he lifts his head, he sees her looking at him from all the way over there. Her finger is tucked in between the pages of her book and she is beautiful in a way he can’t necessarily pinpoint, and wouldn’t want to. He nods sheepishly. Rejection does wonderful things to the ego, especially at hours like this. Even JFk Jr. would blush. “Yeah,” his voice says for him.

“I’m Mariella. I think we had a class together.”

“Yeah, health last term. I didn’t know if you remembered.”

“I did.”

She did. He blooms with his newfound boyish crush.

They are going to fall in love. It’s written between the lines of the grease stained paper his number is sketched on—the one he gives to her just shy of one am, and she keeps for decades after.

—

Leafs fall on campus the day Henry walks Mariella to class for the first time. They meet in the middle of the large university, at the edge of the empty soccer field. She wears a maroon cable knit sweater and her smile grows incrementally as he approaches her. His hair is wet, curling around his ears already, and the wind is biting as it blows in his direction. He wouldn’t have put this off for the world; he’d jog halfway here from the gym, wet droplets falling onto his heather-gray sweater the whole way. Even with the shower, he smells somewhat like chlorine and clean sweat, but he’d made it. His chest burns from the effort, but he beams at the sight of her–a beautiful square toothed smile.

They’ve been seeing each other in that tentative way young people do when they’re not sure what the other one wants; casual non-dates at the cafeterias peppered across campus, kissing in the back of his car with the radio turned down low on weekends; promises to see each other throughout the week. But no one dares to say the word date or boyfriend and girlfriend. They exist in the liminal space of the pre-relationship, and it’s beginning to worry him.

“Want me to carry those?” he asks her, nodding to the books in her hand. They don’t seem to be weighing her down, but the act seems chivalrous and he wants to be helpful, giving. Last night he’d explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, tasted the salty column of her neck and felt her over her white lace bra. The car had gotten so stuffy, and she’d been grateful to let him draw up her blouse — it had proved rather tantalizing for them both. But as nice as that was, he doesn’t want her to think that’s all he wants.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. He looks so handsome like this: dripping wet, his chest rising and falling, so earnest. He’s got such an intense stare–so imploring.

Henry likes her–really– and she knows it, which scares her most of all. Something about him makes her feel helpless. He is like a cosmic wonder, some shooting star that tails its way across the night sky and fills you with hope – all while making you feel the precariousness of human life.

“You didn’t have to walk me to class, you know? I’ve been doing it by myself for a long time,” she says, though not unkindly. Her voice is always warm with him, even without her trying.

His bottom lip protrudes and his eyes go droopy, as if he is a puppy dog that’s just been kicked. “You don’t mind it, do you?”

“No. No, of course I don’t,” she's quick to clarify. “I just don’t want you to think you’ve got to do it.”

A cloud of relief flushes into the ecosystem of his body. He wears a contented grin as he breathes out: “I do want to. I like being around you, Mariella”

If he only knew how much she wanted him. She can’t shake this feeling of impending failure, can’t shake how it looms ominously over each interaction they have together. At the dining halls she worries her food choice is wrong. In his car she worries he might have more experience than she does. On walks such as this one, she worries his inspecting gaze will catch an errant behavior, an ugly mark, too much smile or too little—anything—and find her no longer attractive. The fact that he seems so pleasantly happy to be here with her, walking, stuns her more than it ought to. It isn’t that she isn’t pretty. It’s not even that being pretty is what matters most to her. What Henry has brought into her life, along with a pocketful of joy she’s trying her best to ignore, is the realization that she’s afraid she’s not lovable. That something is wrong, always has been wrong, and that when she opens herself to him, he will find it.

“I’d like to take you as my date to this party I’ve been invited to next week.” He broaches the topic gingerly as they round the corner. They branch off into a more secluded pathway that she takes every day to this class. The stony decade old buildings provide an echoey background as he says,“It’s a low stakes affair, just something a friend of mine’s putting together.”

She stares ahead, feeling the lump of fear form in her throat. Now is the time to back out, she thinks. But for some reason she can’t. His body bumps into hers and he apologizes weakly for the misstep. In his voice she can hear nerves. She looks at him. His face is open, nothing to hide on its handsome expanse; he is nervous. “You don’t have to,” he adds quickly, “I just thought maybe since…”

“I’d love to go,” she tells him. Okay, she thinks. This is it. You are going to do this. This being: pursuing him, allowing herself to be pursued, falling in love with him. Getting serious. This is more than she’s ever given to any person in her life and it makes her flush. A grin breaks out across her lips and she feels like laughing. He looks like he feels that way, too.

“Great,” he says. “I…Would you like to have lunch with me? After your class?”

“Yes.”

“Two yeses in a row. I feel like I’ve got a good streak going here.”

“You do,” she laughs. They turn another corner. When they bump into each other again, no one apologizes.

“Mariella?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“Would you be my girlfriend?”

Her eyebrows draw up to her hairline. She looks to see if he’s joking. He is not.

“Okay.” It doesn't take her long to decide. This is a part of the plan, after all, just served up sooner than she imagined. “Yes.” —

In Harvey, James Stewart talks to his imaginary bunny and loses his mind in the most endearing manner. He’s set to the soft volume of six tonight, heard but not always seen. The hues of the movie throw shadows on Henry’s face and Mariella admits to herself that this boy is devastatingly good looking. Her heart thrums nervously in her chest as his warm hand skirts up her leg. They’re going to do it. He’s got condoms in his bedside table and a bottle of lube in the bathroom, if needed.

It isn't Mariella’s first time, nor his, but there’s an exciting freshness to it anyway. He gathers her up in his lap, asks her once, twice, ten times whether or not this is okay. His hand fondles her breasts, grips at the flesh of her ass, and drags a slow path to the waistband of her underwear. She nods against his forehead, warm with desire and flush with excitement. Last week he had fingered her in his car, in a position much like this one. She’s been thinking of it since, let’s it cross her mind at odd and obscure hours of the day. To be wanted by Henry makes her feel good, seen, human. When she thinks of his fingers inside of her, the way he kissed her hotly as his fingers ran over clit…

She moans wantonly and he nods, encouraging her. “Please,” she tells him softly, “Now.”

Suddenly Henry is above her, in her, forearms pitched at either side of her head, tongue in her mouth. Her hands guide his ass and her legs embrace him, the entirety of her body opening for him. He groans softly as he sheaths himself inside of her. Beneath them, the mattress groans from the pressure of their sway. It is nothing. It is everything. People have been doing it for centuries and yet nothing like this, not the way Henry and Mari do it now. It is flesh meeting flesh, the undoing of neatness and propriety that has guarded her for too long. Mariella gasps earnestly when he comes inside of the condom and he kisses her until her lips are red and plump and ache a little. Then he does something no man has done before and he makes her cum too, his lips glossy with her want at the end. She likes him.

In the post-coital aftermath, they finish the movie. He holds her loosely against his naked frame and touches her appreciatively, a thumb stroking a nipple, or her stomach, or some place as innocuous as her cheek. When he tells her that the movie is a favorite of his father’s, a man who calls him once every five years and who he scarcely knows past that single fact, Mariella falls a little in love with him.

Henry Rath understands her before he knows he does.

—-

They move in together, in an apartment close to campus. During the summer they had searched relentlessly for a place, calling long distance from Laredo to Washington, racking up unimaginable phone bills as they circled their newspaper entries with red pens. They hummed and hawed over the possibility of their future and now they stand in it: A plain two bedroom that costs three hundred a month.

The manager had been so adamant that they take the apartment as soon as possible — “These things go fast because we’re so close to campus” — so they did. Because why not? It's been two years and Henry’s finally got a diploma. He wants to hang it somewhere that’s all his.

Mariella wraps her arms around his torso and lays her head against his back. She moves with his muscle, listens to him speak through the sinew of his body. “It’s so hot,” he groans, but he doesn’t tell her to get off of him. He bangs a nail into the wall and laughs with boyish pride when it turns out alright. She had told him she worried that his craftsmen skills weren’t up to boot.

“You did it,” she says, poking her head out from behind him. He lifts an arm and she pulls herself through, hanging off his side. It is hot; she can feel the sweat on the small of his back. They inspect his work with grins only people in love can wear; soft and pleasant, like life is a cloud and they’re ready to sleep on it. “I probably shouldn’t have,” he responds. But he’s happy he did.

She nods; she told him so. But this is so new. He is a college graduate and she’s a year out from her own degree. For the first time in her life she will never return home after the year finishes. This fact alone is enough to make Henry warm with excitement. Two summers without her had been long–even with internships to keep him busy. He visited her once, midsummer this past year. Laredo had welcomed him as most places did: with open arms. Mari’s father thought he had a good head on his shoulders, and told her so. And secretly, without her knowledge, Henry had asked the man—who could be intimidating when he wasn’t actively being warm—if asking Mariella to marry him would be alright.

“At twenty-three it is easy to think you know what the world wants for you,” James told him. But he’d said yes after Henry added on the fact that he wouldn’t do it until Mariella was finished with school. So there’s this apartment and the promise of more to come. It’s pleasant to have so much future, an endless expanse of more stretched out before them.

They will even thrill at the insanity of shared holidays, divvying themselves up between Laredo (her father’s) and Washington (his mother’s) with a bewildering delight. Their marriage is inevitable, but time is no race. Unlike their parents, they vow to do it right. -

She wears an inexpensive pink gown that her father had bought her for a different occasion–her college graduation–and admires the way her simple gold band looks against the tan of Henry’s suit. It’s fitted, the first he’s ever had. He’s so handsome that she feels a deep and incessant need to just touch him. Her husband. The word feels ethereal and interminable, sweet on the tongue as she nuzzles her head into his neck and whispers it. As they sway along to the soft sound of wedding acoustics, he lays his hand on the small of her back. Married in a church earlier today and celebrating in the back of her grandparents’ sizable home, Mariella feels like she’s beat some magnificent curse. After the reception, they travel into the thick of the Washington woods. He’s gotten them a honeymoon cabin, equipped with a hearth. There is no reception, just trees and the eerie quiet of vast woodlands. What is usually the makings of a horror movie seems a respite with him.

She wraps herself around him in an armchair, moves into his lap, lets herself gasp with pleasure. There is no one around to hear. He tastes like forever, his tongue finding her own, his cock deep inside of her. They move like they did when they were dancing, a sway, his hips meeting her hips, a rhythm so comfortable and easy as to allow for conversation.

“Two children,” he rattles off, tucking her hair behind her ear. He looks down between them, his voice heavy with his own desire as he watches them connect. Henry. He’s got a mole on his cheek and he wants to fill her with children. His wedding ring rests against the softness of her curves and hers presses into the firmness of his bicep. Two children, he says, because he and Mariella are the only children to two sets of parents who didn’t work out. It’s lonely being the only creation. She nods against his forehead and presses her lips to his. They gasp into each other as he fills her deeper.

She’s on birth control so the sentence is little more than a fairy tale, but they like it. Maybe it’s sweet naïveté or honeymoon foolishness. Perhaps it’s the fact that they’re tucked away in the trees, no one coming to disturb them for a week, not even in the form of a phone call. Whatever it is, they enjoy it. They form these stories between them, hips moving together in wedded sync. She feels him deep inside of her and her cheeks tint red as he tells her, against the cusp of her ear, “Let’s make them now, Mariella.”

It’s so easy to agree knowing it can’t happen. Playing pretend like children, except now the concepts are grander and the playing is different, a shade more intimate. She closes her eyes and imagines hazel-eyed children in a beautifully lit house, their little feet in the palm of her hand. Their toes will look like his; their smile will look like hers. Maybe they will inherit something from his mother. Maybe something of her father’s. It doesn’t matter. There will be two and they will not be lonely, and they will be half of him and she will love them just as much, if not more.

Her and Henry are going to grow old together. They’ve discovered love, really discovered it, a groundbreaking newness to the oldest thing in the world. It's never been like this, not between anyone else. Mariella is so sure.

- During the first summer of their new marriage, Henry makes friends with the principal of a private Catholic school. They stand cart to cart in a long checkout line and find common ground on a topic as simple as Sunday night football. By the time they reach the end of the line, Henry’s got himself an interview. They need an accountant as badly as he needs a job. In the parking lot, holding a package of hot dogs in one hand, he leans forward and shakes the man’s hand with the other. He is so pleased with himself that he calls Mariella as soon as he gets to the car.

He gets the job because he’s Henry: lovely, affable, and qualified. He does a good job. Such a good job, in fact, that they take Mariella on too.

At first she is a helper for a large second grade class, but then she matures quickly into a full fledged teacher herself. Mrs. Miller has a baby in December and decides the baby needs her more than her little classroom does. There is talk of Mariella being set to take on kindergarten next year, too because Ms. Neely, a seasoned kindergarten teacher, is ready to move up with her class.

The air is full of promise. Their future feels nearer and nearer every day. They buy a moss green ranch house with a downstairs and an upstairs, and two extra rooms for anything they want. They get the approval to paint it tan by the Homeowners association and they laugh together about the fact that they have to ask for things like that.

Henry falls asleep on the couch sometimes, too tired to drag himself to bed but they are happy. They married young and people told them it would be hard. And it’s not terribly hard, not as bad as they made it seem. He is still adoring. He brings her flowers for no reason, and he still loves her enough to take her on dates every Saturday night, no matter what. She can’t ask for much more.

——

Henry’s wearing a red baseball cap. His cotton white t-shirt is paired with blue-wash Levi jeans and he looks devastatingly good–like a baseball player on a day off. It is the school’s annual end of summer picnic. Mariella wears a pink summer dress that falls to her ankles, and a delicate gold cross on her neck to make up for the indency of bare shoulders. Children and parents alike call her “Mrs. Rath” as she helps pass out food.

One of the mothers is flirting with Henry, the way mothers tend to do because school accountants don’t usually look like this. It makes Mariella ache with pleasure. His muscle is flexing beneath the cotton of his shirt as he plays idly with a baseball in his hand and listens to the woman. It’s like he’s James Dean or Marlon Brandon: an American dream lover in the flesh. He is all hers.

The mother looks at him like he’s the greatest thing on God green’s earth and he’s so polite, so kind, nodding along to her like he doesn’t notice. Perhaps he doesn’t. She wouldn’t put it past Henry.

He turns his head and sees her. He begins waving like crazy and the mother turns her head to look too. When she sees Mariella she smiles like a woman who understands, or one who’s been caught, and nods her head respectfully. I see, the move says. And Mariella beams. Yes, she thinks warmly, he is all mine.

She finds she wants to bury herself in the love he has for her. She’ll give him children, of this she is certain. Not now, but one day. They both intrinsically understand this, so he doesn’t ask and she never says. Their condoms and their concepts stretch on, because they are so young and life is so sweet with ripe possibilities, but she knows, looking at him, that she must do this for him. She loves him more than anything. If she is going to give anyone children, it has to be him.

Her mother was older than this by the time she had her.

Henry and Mariella experience a shift, eat separate dinners on Wednesdays and Fridays, and make friends with people at work. He goes golfing sometimes, talks about country clubs and moving away. This is ennui. She shrugs, content with life but open to the possibilities. Or is she content? Is this just boredom she’s grown used to? She finds it’s better not to think about that. It is contentment.

One night Henry asks her about babies. It is not a forbidden topic but they’ve begun to treat it like it is. He has come home late, a little buzzed, and he is groping her. She doesn’t mind. It has been two weeks. “When?” he asks softly into her ear. She leans back into him, hums. He humps against her backside and seems to forget she doesn’t answer.

She has children. Fourteen, all small and bright and lovely. There’s a precocious little girl who she favors, and almost makes her consider the possibility of it. It just doesn’t seem like the right time now.

Some day, she will give him his children.

They are still young. There is so much time. –

Over a cup of coffee, Mr. Seton confesses to Mariella that he loves her. His classroom is across the hall from hers and he seems to be her only friend these days. They’ve bonded over many things: music, old movies, the fact that they’ve both got busy, active partners and that they are the youngest on the roster this school year. Henry has so many friends, and seems to make a new one every week, despite the fact that his job is rather isolated. It makes Mari nervous, like there’s something wrong with her. When Mr. Seton – whom she calls Adam when there are no children around – tells her he loves her, she feels betrayed. You were my friend, she wants to tell him, in the same tone she uses to tell a student she is disappointed in them.

When she gets home, she tells Henry. He is upset—not at her, he makes sure to clarify—but at Adam. He asks her all kinds of questions about him, and though they are spoken in a gentle tone, she knows: Henry is upset at her, even if he says he’s not. It’s an undercurrent, his anger, his frustration.

“He knows I’m married,” she adds hopefully, as if it will help. But she has wondered all day if maybe she hasn’t been doing a good job at showing how married she is–wondering if maybe somewhere along the way Adam had figured out something she hadn’t. When Henry asks, “And Adam’s wife? Does he not think of her?” she knows the questions are meant for her, at least in part. And Mariella’s husband? Does she not think of him?

Henry loves Mariella more than he has ever loved anyone. If this divide they’re experiencing is because of children then he won’t ever ask about them again. He hadn’t even meant to. He’d gotten a little tipsy that night and it had slipped out, but it doesn’t matter to him. Not this much. He’ll do anything if it means that goddamn teacher won’t tell Mariella things like that again. Next time he sees her–tomorrow–Mr. Seton will know Mariella is too goddamn in love–that it will be pointless and embarrassing to confess something like that. Their love is invincible and this is just a kink because they married young. Everyone said they’d go through rough patches and this is one of them. How dare that man think his confession could come to anything?

“Mr. Seton, love your own wife,” Henry can imagine himself saying to the be-speckled, wannabe home-wrecker. He is nothing if not equable, even to those who threaten his domain, his life. “You’re going through a rough patch, and my wife will not be your garden of Eden. She loves me. She tells me what you said. Your secrets are her stories to me, because she loves me.”

Maybe not so equable, then, not in his own mind. Not to Mr. Seton. Not to fucking Adam.

Later Henry fingers Mariella on the staircase. They don’t make it to the bedroom because they can’t; it's needy and desperate. It feels like before, like she is twenty and he is twenty-two and this is that shitty apartment they rented together their second summer as a couple. It feels like that until he asks her to say she loves him. She does, and he asks again, over and over and over, and he swallows the words in his mouth along with her moans. They go down like stones, hard and sharp. They are true–she does love him–but they are also just words, yet to be eroded by the pleasures of deep meaning.

Mr. Seton loves her, but Henry loves her more.

She loves me, she loves me not.

God, they married so young.

- A third anniversary. They don’t think of children, at least not together. Henry does, but it makes him ache so he tries not to. They’ve got a lifetime ahead of them and Mariella is not yet even thirty. They will have her eyes, her mouth. They will have his eyes, his nose. They will be perfect and loving and worth the trouble and the time and this desperation he can’t seem to fix.

Mariella forgets to say she loves him in the morning before work but remembers many more times throughout the day. This is just life.

- They argue. It is so rare that they do. They are not like this.

It is angry. His anger is large, not violent, but it makes her lip trimble anyways. For the first time in her life, she thinks she could hate him. She does. But then she doesn’t. She loves Henry so much and this is her fault. She works so late, comes home too tired to do anything but sleep.

“What does a teacher even have to do that late, Mariella?” he bellows and it is an ugly accustation. She counters: “Are you saying my job is somehow less important than yours? You don’t think I need to stay out as late as you because what–you make more?”

The argument becomes about so much of nothing in the end. Henry wanted to go on vacation—and it was only a suggestion. She was unrelenting and mean and they end the night by fucking. Fucking, unlike anything they’ve done before. It is ugly and they don’t use a condom. He cums on her thigh, mostly, and she is afraid two weeks later when her consistent period isn’t consistent anymore.

She doesn’t buy a pregnancy test to assuage her fears, not that first week, and she doesn’t tell him. The thought of it makes her sick. She can’t bring a child into this. It is so boring and ugly, and they are so young. She has fourteen kids in her class and she doesn’t want to take time away to be a mother. Not yet. She knows she will not be like Ms. Miller and he will not understand. Henry aches to be a parent. She can’t barely handle it, the way he aches. When her period comes she wants to be happy, but she is so notably unhappy now. Henry worries more about the teacher who confessed she loved her, to the point of quiet paranoia. He asks her so many questions about him. He finds the pregnancy test in the trash. They don’t talk about any of it. - Henry doesn’t want to divorce Mariella, but he realizes that he has to. He’s watching a movie late at night and she’s gone, at a conference for teachers and he is so excited for her to get home, wants her more than ever. But he knows what will come is not the Mariella he needs. It’s this idea he’s in love with, and maybe he’s that to her too. Ideas don’t stretch very far.

She doesn’t love him anymore. Not really. Not the way he needs her to.

They discuss it in the shower when she returns. He can’t tell if she’s crying as she leans her head back into the water spray. “It’ll cost money,” she tells him, so matter-of-fact he wonders whether or not it's a badly timed joke. It is and it isn’t. She loves Henry. She only said it so she wouldn’t promise babies to make him stop talking about it. Because she can’t do that. Not yet. Not now. Probably not ever. She is only twenty-six.

She read once that babies inherit fears and anxieties of the mother when they are in her womb. Her mother had been twenty years old and scared to death of her, of the idea of having to care for her alone. Maybe that’s where she got this: a fear of motherhood. Or maybe she’s just wrong, born out of sorts. She’s got a maternal instinct but an emotionally barren womb. It's no man’s land, working but unavailable. Everything will come out wrong somehow, she knows. If God was that cruel to Eve, what’s stopping him from doing something as twisted as that to her? Nothing.

Henry will never understand that. She is only twenty-six today and next time she will be only twenty-seven. Or maybe she will just be twenty-six and divorced. Who knows?

—

It's raining so hard outside that they’re wet from the downpour. He’s kissing her like he’s never kissed her before. Her lips are cool against his own. She shivers, drenched. They are going to be fine. She is an April baby and it always rains on her birthday. He gives her a necklace that’s too expensive but just her taste. They discuss a child quietly in bed that night and he is so excited. She is twenty-seven and terrified. They are going to be alright.

Aren’t they? - Henry asks Mariella for a divorce in the summer. By Christmas they are. She goes back to Laredo, tail between her legs. She doesn’t eat properly for months, but life moves on. - He invites her to the wedding. They promised to remain friends and this is how he is a friend. She knows it’s not mean, that Henry really wants her there. The wife looks so different from her. She wonders how badly she must’ve fucked him up. Mariella declines. She is meant to be a good friend the way she was meant to be a good friend: hardly. - He is a father to a baby girl. Her name is Emily and she is their concept, an idea they formed together as a married couple, come to life with some other woman. She doesn’t have anything of Mariella’s, not the eyes or the mouth or the nose. Mariella tells him congratulations so earnestly she hates herself for it later. She is in Washington to visit her grandparents. Her grandpa is dying, which is something she might’ve told him before, but can’t now. He has a child! The grocery store is so overwhelming, all that bad fluorescent lighting and passing carts. She just needs soup. He tells her to keep in touch, really means it because he’s so goddamn happy and full of life. A beaming new father. She doesn’t keep in touch. Of course she doesn’t. - Randomly, he writes to her. Asks how she is, says that he wonders about her. His daughter is yay high and his wife is happy. Mariella writes back. She’s got a new job as a teacher. It’s been a good week so she sends the letter and forgets about it until he sends one back. They talk and talk and talk, safety in the miles between them.

She is happy to be his friend. - She visits her aunt and her grandmother at the beginning of summer. Henry isn’t on her mind until he’s in her line of vision. Another grocery store. She’s wearing a summer dress and her hair is shorter than it’s been in ever. His daughter tugs at his shirt and they stare at each other forever, remembering the life they had once lived. He asks about dinner. She says yes. Of course. They’re good friends.

They spend the night having sex, and it’s familiar. It isn’t supposed to be like this. He is home. She was so young when she fucked it up. They are in love or maybe not. Maybe this is just the past mistaking itself for the present. That happens when you get lonely enough.

“You’re so…” Henry stutters off. His fingers dig into her hips, his groan deep as she fits herself over him again. “Tight,” he finishes. “God, Mariella. It..” His pace quickens, the sound of bare skin hitting bare skin evading the sex scented air. “It’s never been like this.”

Her skin tints red. A furrow settles between her eyebrows and he wrongfully mistakes it for mounting pleasure. She feels his satisfaction between her legs, his moan low and guttural as he takes in the sight of her above him. When he opens his mouth to speak again, she raises her hand, covering his wet lips with her fingers. The unashamed obscenity of his words is so unlike him. She never thought about the ways he’d be attuned to his other wife, about the ways doing this with him would make her think of the fact that he’s no longer hers. He takes her finger in his mouth, his hot tongue eagerly swirling around it.

His eyes connect with hers for the longest second in the world. They are the most promising thing she’s ever seen, wet with silent apology and the pain of their enduring love. Maybe even a little bit of remorse. He’s a cheater, after all, and she is his willing accomplice.

Beneath the soft orange hue of the bedside lamp, his eyes are green, freckled with familiar browns and blues. She replaces her finger with her tongue in his mouth. He tastes achingly of home, of their abandoned Washington ranch house someone else probably owns now. It’s so ironic she could cry. He does, a little; their kiss becomes salt drenched and tragic, but real, honest, like it should’ve been at the beginning and not now, some place even further beyond the end.

He twitches inside of her. He pushes her downward, so close to his chest that her nipples scrap over his chest.

Her cheek rests against the warmth of his lips.

She is gone by morning and he frowns, touching her side of the motel bed like he’s not quite sure she is really occupied by it. But she did. He remembers. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, married in memory. When he gets home, his little girl opens her arms and giggles into his embrace. His wife is in the office, the one they share. She is also an accountant and she doesn’t ask where he’s been, but he tells her anyway. “Was at work,” he lies.

She believes him, because why shouldn’t she? He is always at work.

—

It has been three months. He leaves her a voicemail once, twice, three times and she deletes them all. His wife does not know. His daughter asks him why he’s gone so much. He cries in the shower and wonders why the hell he lets Mariella ruin his life.

And the answer is as simple as anything, but no less painful: because he loved her first and he might love her always. He is envious of the men he cannot know exist--the ones he imagines might be entertaining her. He wants to fly to Laredo, to ruin her life, but does not. Life moves on.

All they ever wanted was everything. He realizes that was too much. He will settle for half of it.

#original work #i genuinely do not know what to tag this but it is a part of the fade into you universe #but it does not have javi in it so

12 notes · View notes

friendlyengie · 7 months

Note

Heyo thought I’d drop some random tf2 hcs and stuff cause of ur post :D

- scout and Pyro get along really well and scout will draw for pyro. Scout likes them cause he seems to actually listen to scout talk

- Engineer is pretty oblivious when it comes to people having feelings for him and hes (kinda accidentally) decent at flirting tho

- Engineer is like a father figure to scout and it makes spy really jealous lol

- Demo is really good at karaoke

- Since spy is good at finding this out about people based on body language etc. he knows exactly who has crushes on who in the base and he thinks it’s SO OBVIOUS but it’s not to the rest of them and he’s really close to just screaming at everyone that they’re blind and to just kiss already. He’s just forced to watch all these pining idiots dance around each other and he hates it

- Heavy and Medic have a book club that is just the two of them

- Scout would be a good dad later in life if he had a kid

ohohhoho interesting. Cracks my knuckles.

-scout and pyro friendship truther until I DIE. I find the idea of scout going from being terrified of this weird “thing” to just being besties with Pyro kind of hilarious. I think they can both do art pretty well actually! I like to think they run around towns and do graffiti together.

-Nodding at this. I also think it helps that (to me) hes naturally very friendly and polite because of how he was raised and like half of the people on his team havent heard anything nice from another human being since they were actual children (if that.) Is he good at flirting or are your standards dangerously low? Is it both? Great question!

-Ive always seen engineer as more of a low-maintenance uncle figure to scout If That. They’re just kind of a pretty standard close older dude with a lot of life experience and younger dude with fuck all going on friendship to me. and tbh ive never. Really been able to get behind the idea of spy being “jealous” of any sort of relationship Scout has with other mercs. Whether it’s him being weirded out by father standins or judgemental of potential partners. I don’t think he doesn’t have a weird relationship with seeing scout bond with the other mercs but i feel like it’s just sort of. Idk. A little more of a unique issue for him.

-Accepted. Though i think “good” for him ranges from “genuinely good singing” to “loud, overconfident, and having a great time getting half of the lyrics wrong.”

-As much as I think it would be fun if spy was surprisingly emotionally dense, i cant deny his canonical skills in that sort of field. That’s like. His whole game. I think his approach to trying to help anyone with romance is “he wont unless youre prepared to basically just inflate his ego for the sake of a few tips.” A la expiration date.

-no doubt in my mind that heavy and medic dont agree with a single thing that the other gleams from reading books. Said with love. They will argue about meanings and subtext and the value of interpretation until it sounds like someone’s about to file for divorce and then end with “so same time next week ^_^?”

-I will be so honest with you. I do not know if i could ever see scout being a father, much less a good one NDGSKHJDKNJJ.

Actually . Hm. Thinking about it. I could. SEE it in a sense. I think he would have some good steps to go off of because of his Mom. Unsure of how good his ma’s parenting was but she at least was very caring toward her kids. He’d have that. But i think he’d have to be a lot more emotionally mature to be able to process how his own current issues with dads and fatherhood would healthily translate into being a dad himself. I could see him being really laid back and maybe a little too “im not just your parent, im your friend,” and any hypothetical kid he has would Not take his ass seriously. I think having to parent a teenager would kill him.

#tf2 #asks #The Clown Speaks

44 notes · View notes

pogostikk · 9 months

Text

I socialized too much and I can’t draw now, so I’m gonna get my thoughts out by infodumping my au. It’s gonna be all over the place and full of different subjects cause I’m combining all the drafts I had together, but I’ll make it work.

To begin, I was thinking about abt what would happen if Steven met an off color, like a gem who emerged “wrong” and was in hiding, or a fusion in need of help.

And I totally think he would want to help them, but he’s a human with no power, so what does he do? Sneak them into his and Star’s room to ask the pink diamond for help.

I think it would be cute if Steven and Star secretly helped out off colors as much as they could, and when the CGs kept trying to convince him that Star wasn’t a good person and had been manipulating Steven, he’d be like “…mmmm you ever actually met him? Cause he’s like a (insert some sort of gem term version of saint)”.

(It also just occurred to me that Steven and Star are twins, and while Steven was born, it took Star a second to form, which means Steven is the older twin. I feel like that’s funny)

I’ve been thinking about Steven’s outfit and why he’s got the clown getup in the first place. Because Star would never dress baby Steeb that way cause he doesn’t want Steven to feel like his job is to entertain others. Although I don’t think Steven considers clowns or jesters as entertainers specifically, but moreso that their jobs are to make people happy.

And his first friend was Spinel, who’s purpose is to make other people happy and be their friend, and if Steven could be any gem he’d probably want to be a spinel. I think he wants all these things and dresses this way out of some unspoken guilt. He realized really young how much Star was sacrificing and suffering for Steven and how out of his control it all really was. I think of those kids who have parents who have financial problems, so they feel guilty and like a burden for having needs.

Anyways getting off track again, I think he dresses not like a clown but like a spinel because he wants to make Star and all the other hardworking gems happy, probably because he doesn’t think he’s good for anything else.

It’s kind of sad and of course part of it is just because he (and I) thinks clown outfit are cool and fun and colorful, but I wanted to explain that a bit cause Steven would only ever have that conversation with his future therapist lol

Also, I think the idea of Steven never being attracted to anyone ever until Connie is pretty funny. Like no doubt there was no education whatsoever regarding romantic relationships on Homeworld, sure he’s heard about gems who loved each other so much that they fused for seemingly no purpose, but he can’t fuse and he’s not a gem. And Star told him bits and pieces about the zoo (and maybe Rose) but that’s still not enough.

And then he meets Connie and for awhile he doesn’t realize it but he finds this other human so beautiful and cool and talented, he likes her hair and voice and probably thinks she deserves to be told that, while Connie who developed a crush on him first is trying not to die at constantly listening to Steven say things to her that sounds like blatant flirting even when she knows he probably doesn’t even get it.

I also think for awhile he would just be completely oblivious to his feelings, and then he gets to Earth and meets Garnet, and Greg tells him about his relationship with Rose, and he just sees a wide variety of human bonds and at some point it would just click.

I think once Steven and Connie come to terms with their feelings and confessed to each other, Connie would want Steven to seriously educate himself on human relationships and communication. Just because she doesn’t want him to walk into something he’s not entirely prepared for, and she’d want him to be sure he actually likes her too.

OHHH I just realized I never talk about what Star actually does in his time as a diamond!!

I always think it’s silly cause he inherited the pink diamond court from his mom, but the first pink diamond and him are two very different personalities, and he doesn’t actually care that much for what he does (probably bc his coded purpose isn’t to be the new pink diamond). Steven has fun with it tho.

Anyways, I always felt like Blue and Yellow Diamond were taking care of production, like I felt like they oversee things like gem kindergartens, colonizing planets, maybe designing new technology, etc,. While White Diamond would oversee gem laws, the identity of her amazing empire, basically just, making sure everything is a “perfect reflection of her”. She already colonized so many planets, I wonder if she stopped cause she used up all her essence… I’m getting off topic again nvm.

But Pink, the littlest diamond, definitely took care of culture and celebrations, like come on she used to throw balls for her diamond families’ accomplishments. And Star totally inherited that.

I also imagine his court would be considered a bit controversial compared to the other courts, which often times has him being set apart from the other diamonds even further… lots of older gems and the diamonds don’t have a lot of respect for him, I mean all gems under the diamonds treat him as a diamond, but he’s not oblivious to the very quiet rumors that are said about him.

And I mean, he doesn’t need nor want their respect, it certainly wouldn’t be mutual if he had it. He’s got the respect of his own court, and he cares for his gems too. Steven always comes first, but he does feel responsible for his gems. And I think a lot of his gems ended up embodying his views in some ways. Especially if he’s made gems.

Has he made gems with his own diamond essence? That is if he did assist Blue and Yellow with gem production for his court.. but do we know how long it takes to make a batch of gems? He’s only like, sixteen years old, and it’s gonna take way longer then that, if he had a human life span would he even live to see his gems? If not that’s kinda sad. But also the other diamonds might not even let him near gem production or colonizing planets. Not for a longggg time.

As for Star’s personal views, which I think I’ve mentioned a few times, is a bit in the grey area.

Ultimately, he is a prisoner on his own planet, an a lot of his choices and actions were because the diamonds were holding Steven’s life over his head. His morals and values, as well as other things, needs more time to build because he’s not actually that free to explore it all. I think after the empire is liberated, and he’s gotten a good amount of rest, he’d spend some time trying to figure out who he really is beyond Steven’s other half.

As I’ve said, Steven comes first. He was made for Steven, albeit it was an accident, but Star takes it very seriously and loves his kid very much. But he’ll do good when possible. Like I said at the beginning of this post, Steven sometimes brings off colors in need of help to Star. And he’ll do what he can to help. Healing a cracked gem, showing them to safer areas of the kindergarten, getting them off of Homeworld if he can, even pardoning gems in trial who did nothing wrong but would have been considered guilty.

A lot of those values come from Rose Quartz. After all, in a way, she became him. And part of her stuck with him. He feels horrible when he’s forced to hurt an innocent gem. He couldn’t care less if a gem actually did something wrong, though.

Well I had a lot of fun writing this, but it is a bit chaotic, so I hope it was cohesive enough.

#steven universe #su au #human steven #pink steven #connie maheswaran #connverse #hoo boy that’s a lotta words #I could probably organize this better #I’ll look into that later

42 notes · View notes

panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 months

Text

Dead Beauty AU (Chapter 5)

Yeah I just wanna post it here too.

Oh and Maeve and Malvina are Flower's, @tiredflowercrown

When Harry exits the Hell Hall his feet are too heavy and his mind is swimming in all the wrong directions: Ivy’s fault, naturally. The mix of alcohol and whatever poison she gave him.

He swallows heavily and bangs his hook to the metal gate, just because he fucking can. He hopes that bitch is suffering as much as he is.

And holy hell, is he suffering: the metal clang just about threatens to split his skull open.

He just hopes dear Ivy heard it too.

On completely unrelated note, he really would like to know how she got Claudine fucking Frollo, please and thank you. That girl has problems, alright, and he’s the one saying it.

Y’know, maybe she decided if she’s going to hell, she might as well go with a blast, and Harry can approve of that.

If he had his flask, he’d drink to that sentiment, even.

More importantly, he still wants his haircut.

Alas, he just starts walking towards the Tremaines – hey, it’s closer, and he doesn’t exactly fancy arguing with his older sister about his methods of delivering demands, thank you. Besides, Harriet is just a fucking hypocrite.

He’s pretty sure she slept with Diego the last time she was vaguely in the vicinity of Hell Hall.

Harry smirks at that.

He drags his feet as he sneers into the shadows, twists his wrist around to stretch it – the light twirls on his hook – cranes his neck around to stretch it too.

Curiously, that seems to send a street rat or two running.

This is fine.

It shouldn’t be too long to the Tremaines now, but he could just swear the bloody streets keep stretching under his feet. He kicks on something at the ground, mutters curses under his breath. And if he loses his balance for just a moment after that, well, who cares?

Two children run by him and he sneers at them to mind their way; his vision goes blank for a moment.

Tremaines’ is right there.

He collapses at the nearest chair.

He breaks open the door, swatting his hook at the irritating decoration above it. He doesn’t manage to tear it down. Shame.

It is an eyesore.

He’d say he hopes Anthony went out already, but frankly, he doesn’t care enough.

„Dulcia, darling!“ he calls out, „You promised me the haircut?“

„Oh, I don’t care,“ he lifts his hand to make a dismissive gesture and lets it fall when he discovers how heavy it is, „Just do your worst. I want Harriet to know I’ve been there.“

She appears behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and sighing: „Whatever is wrong with you, Hook – my dear cousin is right there, and his mood didn’t get any better.“

She tugs at his hair rather harshly, which he registers mostly because he’s looking in the mirror.

„Also, what the hell do you want me to do with this?“

Dulcia laughs: „Why, that almost sounds like a dare–“

Harry discovers his lips are too numb to form an answer; he barely manages a crooked smirk, twisted more by the cracked mirror. His face feels weird.

Dulcia tugs at his hair again, turning his head from side to side to examine her canvas, and his whole body locks in a horrible spasm. He can’t jerk away or even breathe– his chest starts to hurt.

He watches his lips turn blue – watches Dulcia notice his stiffness and his expression – and curses Ivy. She wasn’t stingy with the dose, that’s for sure–

He manages to draw in a breath, his muscles relax a bit.

„What the hell was that?!“ asks Dulcia.

„So you’re faking choking to death for fun?“

„Quiet!“

She is simply too loud, her voice too high – Harry remembers his manners again and says: „Oh, nothing to worry about.“

„Oh no, that’d be the poison Ivy gave me.“

„Oh, you moron,“ Dulcia’s voice turns soft, placating, „You played Russian Roulette with her?“

Harry hums in response.

„Did you win or lose?“

„…Yes.“

This is starting to get majorly annoying, thank you for asking.

Dulcia deals him a gentle slap over the back of his head.

„Fucker,“ she says, and his body spasms again.

Oh, and it seems the ruckus finally dragged Lord Tremaine over. How lovely.

„What’s he doing there?“ Tremaine asks, as if it wasn’t clear – he came for the haircut. Duh. He told him already.

„Dulcia, why is he choking to death in our salon?“

„Choking to death, obviously,“ answers Dulcia, sounding insultingly uninterested.

Harry would argue, but, y’know. He still can’t breathe.

Well… Why not?

It’s not like Ivy would share the antidote or anything.

Choking is fine, but that humiliation would probably kill him.

Harry watches Dulcia shrug her shoulders delicately, and, yeah. He’s reasonably sure that if he dies in there, she plans to use his head as a training dummy for the little ones.

Which is absolutely unacceptable, by the way.

He breathes in again – fucking finally – and immediately spits at Anthony: „None of your fucking business, Tremaine!“

„My salon, my business,“ he answers, voice stone-cold.

„Dulcia, take this moron to the Mims right now,“ says Anthony, „If he dies at our salon, Harriet will never speak with me again.“

„My life, my business,“ mocks Harry back, turning around to look at the marginally more agreeable cousin, „Dulcia, about the ha–“

The movement makes his muscles lock up painfully again, which is starting to get really fucking repetitive.

„That’d be a pity for sure,“ agrees Dulcia in her overly sweet voice.

Harry manages to catch his breath again: „My sister’s too good for you anyway,“ he says. He just smirks when Anthony attempts to kill him with a glare.

Really, it’s almost admirable how much contempt Tremaine packs up into one word. Just a shame Harry isn’t exactly in the shape to break his nose, right now.

„Dulcia, to the Mims, now. Before I can think the better of it. You are also welcome to just dumb him behind the corner though,“ Anthony raises his voice, which makes Harry snarl at him. What is it with the Tremaines and yelling all over today?

„Angelica, Desdemona, Deborah, go help Dulcia with him!“

„I can take care of myself, thank you,“ he says instead, pushing himself off the seat, and almost immediately collapsing forward into his reflection. Well, fuck.

„Well, good fucking luck with that,“ says Harry, letting the Tremaine harpies drag him away.

„Clearly, you can’t,“ drawls Anthony, and Dulcia grabs Harry’s shoulder, drawing her sharp, carefully manicured nails deep into his skin.

„Now go. I do not wish to deal with your sister in a worse mood than she is now.“

As he passes under the door, he finally manages to tear down the horrid glockenspiel, to his satisfaction and indigent cry of one of the girls, which doesn’t seem like his problem.

Like, at all. That thing has been causing him headaches for months.

Now, Maddy being her usual bitchy self?

That does seem like his problem.

„Absolutely not–“ the demon-witch-whatever cries out, pointing at the list of rules scribbled on the wall with something that’s probably human blood, „You know the rules! No first aid! Your overdoses are not my problem! Your relationships problems should stay your relationships problems!“

Harry sways in the place as the younger Tremaine girls back away from darling Maddy, and Dulcia steps forward a single step, once again speaking in that placating voice of hers: „C’mon, Maddy, who said what about first aid? Just give him the antidote.“

„That’s what first aid is–“ grumbles Maddy.

„I don’t need an antidote,“ chimes up Harry, catching his balance on a nearby shelf, which makes Maddy look like she wants to bite his arm off. Sweet. Maybe he’d finally get actual hook like that.

„I want my hair done, Dulcia.“

…Yeah, no. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not so fine, Harry thinks as he painfully struggles for breath.

„See?“ Maddy gestures at him; he slowly slides to the ground, as his muscles refuse to cooperate again.

„He’s fine. Now get him out of my apothecary.“

„Maddy, be a dear. Just give me the antidote against strychnine. He’s got shit ton of gold on him, you can take it as a payment before he comes to himself.“

Harry would really love to protest that. She can’t take his gold just for a stupid antidote!

However, Maddy looks like she’s considering this: „…How do you know it’s strychnine?“ she asks with some suspition.

„Ivy always uses strychnine.“

That is not a concerning statement at all.

And Maddy doesn’t look too convinced.

Dulcia shoots Harry a look that can’t mean anything else than „You’re so gonna owe me for this,“ and then tells Maddy: „If he dies, Harriet will be out of it and then Ginny will be upset too.“

„I… Suppose I can spare some antidote,“ decides Maddy finally. He didn’t know she cared for Harriet’s witch all that much, but then again, Gothel can make herself likable like nobody’s business. And she is high most of the time, she has to get the stuff somewhere. He supposes it makes sense.

After that, the Tremaine girls leave, and Maddy quickly gets tired of staring at him, instead alternating absentmindedly playing with one of her dolls, yelling at one of her cousins in a language that makes the hair at the back of Harry’s neck stand, and preventing some mangy kid from randomly tasting the shit on the shelves.

He doesn’t fight Maddy when she forces a pill into his mouth in a pause in between spasms, and doesn’t swat away Dulcia’s hand when she offers him water with it.

That should count towards his debt to her, by the way.

The kid keeps singing in the same language.

Harry tries to ignore that and just focus on his breathing and, more importantly, about ways to get back at Ivy. Might that bitch be slowly dissolved in acid while listening to this crazy little Mim kid singing the demons to sleep or whatever.

Said mangy little Mim kid comes over and pokes at his ribs.

„Is he dead yet, Maddy?“

„Don’t know, don’t care. You know how to check.“

Harry does not wish to know how the Mims check if their customers are still breathing or not.

„I’m still alive, kid,“ he tells her, „Shut it.“

„Shame,“ the kid sighs, „Maeve said I get to dissect the next moron that overdoses.“

„Maeve also said you’re not supposed to talk like that in front of the customers, Malvina.“

Harry snaps his teeth at Malvina as she tries to poke at his ribs again.

„If that’s all, ladies,“ he grits in between his teeth as he pushes himself up, „I’ll be on my way.“

Malvina steps away from his as he struggles to regain his balance – he almost falls down as the doors to the Apothecary fly open and CJ greets the shop with a bright smile: „Hiii!“ she says and turns to him, „Freddie said you’d be there, Ettie’s getting snappy again– ooh, can we get some of that candy?“ She points to a shelf of brightly coloured expired candy.

„You lot are not allowed weed,“ notes Maddy dryly.

„Why not?“ asks the little Mim kid; Harry seethes at the sentence.

„Pleeease?“ whines CJ, making big eyes at Maddy and slipping her one of her gold bracelets over the counter. Harry barks out a laugh.

„This never happened,“ says Maddy as tears open one package, stabs her nail through some gummy bears, and gives the mutilated candy to CJ, „And if it gets into your head wrong, don’t fucking come back here.“

„Don’t worry, Maddy,“ answers Harry, grabbing his younger sister’s arm before she gets any more bright ideas, „I’ve had enough of this place for quite some time.“

He leads CJ outside.

„How stabby is Harriet?“ he asks.

CJ swallows one of her gummy bears as she thinks of an answer, carefully storing the other pieces in a napkin in her pocket: „Hmm… Not as much as when I bleached her hair. Kinda about when Frollo wouldn’t stop ringing the bells cos of some celebration or whatever.“

Harriet spent most of that time too drunk to form a coherent sentence, and honestly, Harry doesn’t blame her.

„No, wait! Like when the Hearts twins got the jewelry she wanted at the market the other time!“

„Well, then,“ Harry smiles at his younger sister,„How do you feel about a new haircut, then?“

„Yes!“ she jumps in her place, „Yes! Harriet’s gonna be so pissed!“

Anthony, too, and it’s not like anything interesting is happening at the port now: He seriously doubts Ivy managed to forward their demands to her youngest cousin yet.

#disney descendants #dead beauty au #harry hook #cj hook #anthony tremaine #hook siblings #ivy de vil #dulcia tremaine #tw substance abuse #poisoning #no good coping mechanism in sight okay #take Uma off the Isle and it spirals from there

9 notes · View notes