#not me casually dropping the new kid into the mix :)
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— OCS AS CHARACTER TROPES
tagged by the lovely @corvosattano to do this uquiz! Thank you 💕
tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed
THE DISQUALIFIED
the disqualified [noun, origin unknown] refers to a character who's became too numb to the concept of the world, to the point of deeming oneself not able to express any sort of emotion, whether positive or a negative one. this state is usually the one to follow after feeling too much, as if to balance out the overwhelming sensation of human emotion. living up to their title, they often consider themselves 'disqualified' from being a human, forsaken and unloved, abandoned by the world they've never had interest in. they don't know where they belong or where should they go - every second of breathing air is a waste of oxygen someone worthier could use. the disqualified symbolize the constant state of feeling nothing but tiredness, state where all is merciless but the end. this is the one and only test outcome where i as the writer shall personally interfere - please, my most beloved disqualified, keep longing to feel again. there's so much you've never felt and so much you'll desire to feel again. in the words of Osamu Dazai (who's the creator of the title 'the disqualified' I so happily stole) - "Everything passes." a statement as short as it is true - everything passes, even the numbness. after it, you'll experience so much more beauty of the world - beauty that might pass just as the numbness did, but in it's temporary and unique nature lies the reason why it's to be cherished. so, please, try to hold on a bit. sometimes, holding on is the best we can do and most of the times, it's just enough. - a (former) fellow disqualified
THE ICARUS
[noun, greek origin] refers to a character, first curious and childish, who got so bored of the world's rotten nature they lost all hope in living. as the last resort to find the spark in the world of dying stars, the icarus may have attempted numerous times to touch the blazing surface of the sun, hoping to see any kind of redemption in the reflection of their face in the sun's flames. as a result, their wings were melted down and their bones broken by the harsh landing, yet that still didn't stop them from trying all over again. the people of icarus' nature often believe their place is with the stars and their desire to burn amongst them causes them to forget the beauty of the land they've abandoned, merely flying over it - the world has stored so much beauty for them they often struggle to see through the rays of sun and yet, it is still there. the most beautiful of flowers grow upon the lands their feet haven't even touched and maybe, just maybe, if they spared a bit of their time to give the (them forsaken) world another chance, they'd see that sky might not be the home they truly desire, but one they ve seeked just because they have seen only the worst of the world. - a fellow icarus
THE FALSE MUSE
the false muse [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that attempts to be perfect in order to receive certain amount of praise, or to inspire others to go in their footsteps. they tend to seek the spotlight, the podium, the gaze of the people looking up to them, with praise and validation being what keeps them pursuing the way of living they did before. the false muses surely have their goals, but the biggest one is to simply be better than yesterday and worse than tomorrow, to be in a constant state of self improvement they'll never deem enough. this is what leads them to the ocassional state of burnout, state one may describe as trying so hard to please the artist you become the opposite of a muse - hence why they're called false ones. the false muses might be tempted to think that they’ve never achieved perfection, but the truth is, there's no such thing as perfection, nor is there a way to achieve it. all muses could long for is merely the perfect version of themselves and they’ve achieved that already, over a thousand times.
THE SAINT
the saint [noun, latin origin] refers to a character that has taken upon themselves the role of saint via listening to prayers, concerns and troubles of others. characters falling under this cathegory are obviously merely metaphorical saints, which is a quality many people struggle to realize. the saints are said to be helpful and caring under any circumstance, believing that making themselves useful increases their self worth in the eyes of people they care about. they often forget that they are indeed humans in roles of saints, that they still have human limitations and problems that can potentially pile up until they fall from the metaphorical heavens they occupy...yet mostly, this doesn't stop them from taking burdens from people and putting it on their own back in hopes of being more responsible in taking care of them. there's strange naivety in the good they do, slight hope that they can take everything and anything they try to fix and help out with. this naivety is often replaced with denial and regret as soon as one realizes that sometimes, it's impossible to pose as a saint. but that's just the tragic cycle of them - trying to help out, getting dragged from heavens by the burden they voluntarily stole, falling, laying on the ground wide-eyed and tired before climbing back into the clouds again. as of now, there's no cure to being one of the saints - it is up to them to realize that they are not responsible for anyone's happiness apart from their own and that it's not selfish to put them before others. it's natural and - as much as they want to stray away from it - human. - a fellow saint
#oc insp: Imogen Kol#oof does hers really hit#oc insp: Vaune Iyer#I feel like she’s gotten an Icarus result before. self explanatory#oc insp: noa#not me casually dropping the new kid into the mix :)#earth kingdom/water tribe baby who may or may not have a thing with Kuvira 🤫#she’s an earth/metal bender#oc insp: Nadya Bishop#poor girl this quiz read her for filth
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Plan B
word count: 1015 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.
pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader
genre: fluff, pining
warnings: none
synopsis: he is trying to convince you to go out with him
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The café was in its typical morning lull when you came in. After the coffee rush of the business crowd and students on their way to class there were now only a few people seated comfortably around the small round tables, chatting idly and enjoying a piece of quiet in the hustle of a new Monday. This was your favorite time of the day. The early spring sun was shining happily through the large front windows, making the dark wooden walls appear as if dipped in honey. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the soothing scent of cookies, all amidst the faint sound of traffic humming underneath the soft clanking of spoons gave you a deep sense of calm.
After the daily round of hellos and how-are-yous, you put on your black apron and got to work in the kitchen, starting on the preparations for lunch.
“Manager?”, an hour later as you just put the finishing touches on a batch of orange drizzle muffins, one of your baristas poked his head through the door and gave you a look. You sighed and joined him in the front by the cash register. Sure enough the tall man waited for you, a wide grin across his handsome face.
“No.”, you told him before he even got the chance to say anything.
“And good morning to you, too.”
“No.”, you said again, beginning to prepare his usual order of simple green tea.
“Just one cup of coffee, we don’t even have to leave the premises.”
“400 yen, please.”
He counted out a small stack of coins on the counter and crossed his arms.
“Where is your cheer squad today?”, you asked, referring to his usual companions of a broad guy with spiky gray hair and a smaller one whose smile rivaled the sun in brightness. Needlessly supervising the last drops of hot water in the to-go cup, you made sure to add the exact amount of tea leaves to a little bag, just so you didn't have to look at him and his ridiculously confident smirk.
“Eh, I think they got tired of you rejecting me.”
“Interesting, any chance that’ll happen to you, too?”
“Sure, I’ll stop”, he slid over to where you were finishing up his order and lowered his voice, “when you stop blushing whenever I ask you out.”
He accepted his order with a wink. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”
When the door closed behind him, you found your barista leaning against a counter with a cocked eyebrow.
“That makes seven!”, he announced, pointing to a small blackboard on the back wall where you usually wrote down the groceries needed that week. In the lower left hand corner he and the rest of the staff had begun to keep a tally of how often the guy had asked you out so far.
Seven times in three weeks. You smiled against your better judgment. You knew not to take him too seriously. Knew it was just a game to him. When he came in for the first time you had almost dropped a mug, because how could someone look this casually seductive?!
It wasn’t that you didn’t have the urge to say Yes just for the hell of it. But you weren't in the mood to be a short-lived plaything for a guy who probably only thought chubbies were easy. And thus began a regular routine of rejecting him. You didn’t know whether you actually wanted him to stop or if saying No to him had just become a reflex. A wise one probably.
Kuroo groaned and gently hit his head against his desk. Of course the thought that he might be an actual creep for asking you out so much had occurred to him but when he made his initial attempt, you had said Yes at first before immediately changing your answer to No. How on earth could he prove to you that he wasn‘t kidding when he told you that you were on his mind all day? Your smile, your voice, your exceptionally squishable body all brought new amounts of cute-aggression into his life.
At this point he was running out of options. Maybe… maybe he should just wait until you approached him instead - if you ever would, that was. He needed a new idea.
And so, one misguided day, he listened in on the gossip of his coworkers who talked about what mundane things they found attractive in a guy. And that’s how we got here:
Kuroo sat at a large four seater table in the corner of your café. Papers were strewn about, magazines lay open for references. He had loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt; his reading glasses were pushed back onto his nose in regular intervals. It was warmer today. So warm that he had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, wristwatch glinting in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He gave a little frown and absentmindedly bit his bottom lip as he consulted one of the articles, sometimes silently mouthing along to paragraphs he read, twirling the pen in his long fingers. He lifted a page to read the next, making a note on a separate sheet, the muscles in his forearm taut while he wrote.
He looked up at nowhere in particular, then closed his eyes and stretched his tired neck, the open shirt tightening around his broad shoulders, the line of his jaw highlighted by the golden light beaming through the large windows…
"Sir.", a waitress stepped professionally to the table, a towel neatly tucked in the waist cord of her apron, hands politely folded in front of her stomach.
"Yes?"
"The manager isn’t here today."
His cheeks started to burn, "Why- I mean… what?"
"And while we do appreciate what you do for the ambiance", a subtle gesture pointed out the girls, women and the barista staring, some even holding up their phone camera, giggling behind their hands, "this isn’t a library, so please order something or free the table."
"…O-of course."
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[part 2]
#kuroo x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#kuroo fluff#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#hq kuroo#kuroo testuro#haikyuu kuroo#kuroo tetsurou#chubby reader#what an idiot
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all hers, part x
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue
summary: Sam moves in. Tara isn’t happy, so you soothe her in the only way you know always works.
warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, drug abuse, strap-ons, vaginal sex, top!reader, bottom!tara
word count: 3.5k
a/n: for all my bottom!tara supremacists. enjoy, and tell me what you’d like to see next!!
Tara stays in the hospital for the rest of the weekend.
You don’t let her out of your sight, not once, sleep curled into her side with your back against the hospital bed railing so she can have more space.
You think she kind of likes it, you fawning over her like this. You can tell by the way she grips you tight when you try to get up to go to the bathroom. Or when she insists she’s too tired to shower alone.
The morning after she was first admitted, Sam shows up in a flurry, her new boyfriend Richie on her arm.
“What happened?” She asks, somewhat accusingly as she looks down at Tara’s sleeping body, curled into your side.
You hesitate a moment. Sam’s scary when she gets angry, and this would almost certainly make her mad.
“She mixed some pills. She was… upset.”
“Upset?” Sam asks, “Upset about what?”
“Wes.” Tara croaks out, stirring against your side, “He’s missing.”
Sam crouches down, brushes Tara’s hair out of her face.
“Oh, Tara. I know. I’m so sorry.”
Then, she grips Tara’s hand, hard.
“What were you thinking?”
Richie’s looking at you, a little funny.
“Maybe we should go and get some coffee.” He suggests, “Let these two catch up.”
“No.” Tara says immediately. Grips a possessive hand around your waist. You press a kiss to the top of her head.
“It’s a good idea. I’ll be ten minutes. You can catch up with your sister. I’ll get you some Jell-o.”
She stares at you a moment, before relenting.
“Strawberry, please.” She murmurs.
You press a kiss to her lips. Watch as Sam surveys you. Then follow Richie out of the room.
You’ve met Richie exactly once. Tara didn’t like him, but you didn’t think he was that bad. A little awkward, sure. Gangly but harmless. Sometimes, inappropriate jokes.
He cracks one now, as you’re lining your paper cup underneath the coffee machine, trying to break the tension. You don’t laugh.
Your girlfriend lying in the hospital with tubes coming out of her nose has somewhat ruined your sense of humor.
“So, uh… what do they think happened to that Wes kid?” Richie asks, out of nowhere, “They think it was Ghostface?”
You turn, sharp.
“No. He’s missing, that's all.”
Richie hums.
“That’s the Sheriff’s son, right?” He asks, “We ran into her on the way here. Wouldn’t want to be the one who took her kid. That guy’s in for a world of hurt when she catches him.”
Your stomach churns, uncomfortably.
“You ran into her on the way here?” You ask, head tilting.
Richie nods, “Yeah. Told her about Tara. I think she’s going to come and check on her later this afternoon.”
Your stomach drops.
“Oh. Perfect.”
Richie catches your tone, “You don’t like the Sheriff?”
You pull your coffee cup out from the filter. Try to appear casual.
“She doesn’t like us.” You say, honestly, “She’s- caught us. A few times.”
“Huh.” Richie says, like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. You’re hoping it will make him uncomfortable enough to stop asking questions. It seems to work.
“So. Um. No word from Tara’s mom?”
By the time you make it back to the room, Sam’s taken your seat, and Tara looks unhappy.
“They were out of strawberry.” You murmur, press a kiss to her cheek. Set the raspberry Jell-o to the nightstand. You settle down on the edge of her bed, rub at the frown on her face, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m moving back home.” Sam answers before she can speak. “It’s a bit of a- shock, clearly.”
“Oh.”
A storm brews behind Tara’s eyes. You rub her arm, hoping to calm her a little. It doesn’t work.
“You can stay a week.” Tara says, sounding very much like it’s the last thing in the world she wants to offer, “Then you can go.”
“Tara, this isn’t up for negotiation.” Sam says, she reaches for Tara’s hand. Tara’s shoulders tense, “Mom is…. fucking useless and I don’t want you in that big house all alone. Look what just happened.”
“I’m not alone,” Tara argues, “I have YN. And we’re happy. You being there would just… ruin everything.”
“Thanks.” Sam says, a little sarcastic. She doesn’t look put off, “I won’t ruin your love bubble, sis. I promise. YN can stay. Richie and I will take the guest room-”
“Richie?” Tara says, incredulously, “No, Sam. No way.”
Richie laughs, somewhat uncomfortably. He looks at Sam.
“Always great to know where I stand with the family.”
“Enough, Tara.” Sam says, like it’s final, “It’s my house just as much as it is yours. And I’m staying there so I can keep an eye on you, like it or not.”
Tara’s in a terrible mood when Sam and Richie finally leave to pack. You curl up into her, try and soothe some of the anger with a kiss.
“Come on, babe.” You say, press your lips to her chest, “It won’t be that bad.”
“She always does this.” Tara seethes, “She always has to ruin it. Why does she always ruin it?”
“She cares about you.” You say, “She just wants you to be safe.”
Tara pouts.
“I like it when it’s just you and me. How am I supposed to eat you out on the kitchen counter when she’s around?”
“You’re not.” You say sternly, “And don’t you dare try.”
She groans.
“See? This already sucks.”
You kiss her once more.
“We’ll just have to have sex in bed like regular people.” You tease, stroke her cheek, “It’s not the end of the world.”
Tara bites her lip, “And you’re staying with me, right?” She says, sounding somewhat vulnerable, “You’re not going back home to sleep without me, right?”
“I’m staying with you,” You assure. Punctuate your point with a kiss, “I promise.”
A knock on the door breaks you apart.
It’s Sheriff Hicks, dressed in her uniform, hat in her hands.
“Hi girls.” She says, “Just thought I’d stop by and check in.”
Immediately your heart races. Your hands sweat, clammy. The Sheriff moves a little closer, edges to the end of the bed. Tara’s hand tightens around yours. She rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, soothingly.
“Hi Sheriff.” She says, “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Your sister mentioned some pills.” Sheriff Hicks says, eyes stern, “Care to tell me where you got them from?”
“My mom’s bathroom cabinet,” Tara lies, without a beat, “That’s not a crime, is it?”
“Actually it is.” The Sheriff says, “That coupled with the underage drinking. Not a good look, Tara.”
“You’re not going to arrest her?” You ask, in somewhat disbelief, “Look at her. She’s in a hospital bed.”
The Sheriff surveys you for a moment. Her expression is blank, unreadable. But her eyes give her away. Hard, pained. She’s hurting. And hurt makes people unpredictable. For a moment, you really do think she’s about to pull out her handcuffs.
“No. Just- don’t do it again. I can only look the other way so many times, Tara.”
Tara nods.
Your heart slows, just for a moment.
“Any word on Wes?” Tara asks.
The Sheriff swallows.
“No. But that’s actually part of the reason I came here.”
She looks like him, you think. Same eyes. Same unnerved expression.
“I know you girls said the last time you saw him was on Thursday. But I have a witness who told me otherwise.”
You might be sick. Your heart hammers so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. Tara grips your hand.
“Really? Who?”
“One of your neighbors.” She’s looking at you, critical, hard, “They saw Wes on your doorstep Friday afternoon.”
Silence fills the room. Your mind is blank, frantic. You scramble for an excuse. Tara beats you to it.
“You left your biology notes for him, didn’t you babe?” Tara says, turning to you. You look into her eyes. Warm, encouraging. Slowly, you nod.
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. He asked if he could pick them up.”
The Sheriff watches you, her stare piercing.
“And you let him in?”
“He had a key,” Tara says smoothly, “We were- showering.”
“So you didn’t see him?”
Tara shakes her head.
“No. Sorry. Like I said, we were busy.”
You bite your lip, anxious. Wonder if she’s buying it.
“If he had a key, why did he knock?” The Sheriff asks. Your stomach whirls. It’s a fair question.
“All our friends knock,” Tara says, her fingers tightening around yours, “We have a certain reputation. Ask Mindy, or Chad.”
The Sheriff’s tense shoulders loosen a little. She scribbles something down on her notepad.
“Alright. Thank you girls.” She hovers a moment, “I hope you feel better, Tara.”
And she leaves.
The moment she’s gone, you bury your face in Tara’s neck.
“It’s okay, baby.” She soothes, rubbing her hand down your back, “She believed us.”
“I hate this.” You say, mournful, “Every-time she’s around, Tara, I feel like I’m going to-”
“Shh.” Tara murmurs against the top of your head, “Everything is okay.”
-
Tara’s discharged in the morning.
Sam drives the two of you home, ignores Tara’s grouchy jabs as she cooks the three of you dinner. Tara’s still a little weak, so she serves you in bed. When she comes back to collect the plates, Tara isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion.
“The chicken was a little dry.” Tara says, slouching back against the pillows, “Can you please make sure Richie doesn’t touch my movie collection. I have it alphabetized.”
Sam isn’t easily deterred.
“Get some sleep.” She tells the two of you. Presses a long kiss against the top of Tara’s head, “Love you. I promise I won’t let Richie touch your precious movie collection.”
You kick off your jeans, crawl back into bed with Tara as Sam leaves.
“Be nice to your sister.” You chide, pinch her side as you curl into her, “She’s trying.”
“Too little, too late.” Tara murmurs, “Besides, I wanted to watch that new M Night Shyamalan movie tonight. Can’t do that with Richie lounging around, playing his stupid shooting games.”
Richie had commandeered the living room pretty quickly. Faintly, you can hear the sounds of Call of Duty blasting up the staircase.
“We can still watch it.” You assure, “I’ll get my laptop.”
Tara makes a face.
“Baby, you can’t watch movies on a laptop. It ruins the entire experience.”
“So we’ll watch The Bachelor.” You say, a little excited at the prospect, “They’re down to the final three.”
Tara tugs at your waist, pulls you into her.
“Or…” She says, pressing a kiss to your neck, “We could do something else.”
You close your eyes. Her tongue runs down the length of your neck, that familiar feeling of arousal flickering through your body.
“You’re still sick. You need your strength.” You say, a little half-hearted. Her hands grip your hips, trying to pull you on top of her.
“I’m lying down, aren’t I?” She murmurs. Her hands reach down into your underwear, trying to tug them down.
You sigh, tilt your head to kiss her feverishly.
You’ve missed her like this, you realize the moment your lips meet. You haven’t had sex with her in almost two weeks, a record for the two of you. Without a word, you relent.
Her hands are greedy, roaming, trying to touch every inch of your skin.
You climb on top of her, hands on her face, keeping her lips fused to yours.
She’s so good with her hands, you think as she slips you out of your clothes. Her touch is like wildfire, igniting every part of you. Passionate, fierce kisses as she pushes her body up to yours, trying to grind herself against your thighs.
You part from her lips for a moment, trail hot kisses down her neck.
She’s egregiously overdressed. Blindly, you tug her sweatpants down her legs, her underwear soon to follow.
You pull her shirt up, kiss your way down to her nipples and take one in your mouth.
“Fuck.” She moans as you suck gently, take the other one between your fingertips. You can hear Sam and Richie’s voices downstairs, lick at her nipple once more before leaning up to kiss her again.
“Quiet, baby.” You murmur. The last thing you want is Sam coming back up to check on her. Your hand slips down her body to feel between her legs. She feels so good, warm and wet. Your moan almost matches hers.
She looks up at you, smiles slightly, her dark eyes impossibly turned on.
“Snap.” She murmurs before you’re leaning down to kiss her again.
You kiss a while more, slipping your fingers through her wet heat, loving the feeling of her tight under you, desperate leaning up to meet your kisses. She’s so pretty like this, wild, wanting and so wet. It sends a thrill through you. Even after all this time, even after you’d had her like this so many times, she still got so turned on for you.
“I love you.” You sigh into her mouth, “I want to taste you so bad.”
It’s not a question, and you don’t wait for her response. You kiss your way down her body, tilting her thighs to nestle yourself between them. You press a quick kiss to her inner thigh, then allow yourself to dive into her syrupy wetness.
She moans as you swipe your tongue down her length. Her hands reach down to your head, locking you in place. You kiss her once, then twice, then trail your tongue down to her entrance, lapping gently in the way you know she likes so much.
You wrap your arms around her thighs, keeping her where you want her. Teasing her entrance, slipping your tongue in and out a couple of times. She tastes incredible, you can’t get enough. You drink her greedily, like she’s a fine wine, then lick your way up to her swollen clit.
“Oh my god.” She’s moaning as your tongue flicks against her. Her thighs tighten around your head, her hands gripping your hair so tight.
You lick a few times, drawing a little more wetness out of her before you’re wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking hard. She likes it like this, she likes the pressure of your lips against her, suctioning hard, not giving her a moment to breathe.
Her hips are tilting up, trying to get more as you lovingly suck her into an orgasm.
She cums quick, hard, all breathy, quiet moans.
Her hips jerk, and then sink back into the pillow. You release her with a final, tender suck, then press your lips to her thigh as you’re rising back up to meet her.
She sighs as you kiss her, wraps her legs tight around your torso.
“I missed you.” You tell her, press another gentle kiss to her lips, “I missed doing that.”
“Me too.” She says. Her hands are still in your hair, her body pressed tight against you. She’s still so wet against your stomach.
“I want to do something.” You say, your lips against her jaw, “I want to fuck you.”
She nudges her nose against your cheek, smiling slightly, “What do you think we’re doing? Playing scrabble?”
You’re deadly serious. You don’t smile, grip your hands tight around her thighs.
“No, baby. I want to fuck you.”
Her mouth falls open, slightly. She knows what you mean, you can tell by the way her eyes darken, a little unsure. You kiss her once more, soft, reassuring.
“Please.”
She swallows. Surveys you for a moment, those pretty brown eyes, dark, hesitant. Then, she nods.
You don’t give her a moment to change her mind. You’re reaching into the top drawer of her nightstand, tugging out the harness. Usually, this was her role. It’s what she liked the most. Topping you, making you hers. Tonight, you wanted to make her yours.
She watches as you slip the straps around your waist, her legs spread slightly, making your mouth water. You hurry through it, wincing as you tighten it a little too hard, confusing yourself with the varying straps.
“Here.” She sits up, helps you into it properly. Gives your hips a little squeeze.
You kiss her once more. Tangle your hands in her dark hair. Then you’re pushing her back onto the bed.
She looks a little confused. You didn’t wear the strap much, but when you did she was usually on top. You lean down and kiss her again, reassuring.
“I want you on your back tonight.” You tell her, “Is that okay?”
She blinks up at you. Then she’s nodding, slow.
“Good girl.” You say, you lean down, press a kiss to her knee, “Spread your legs for me, baby.”
She complies without a second thought. You slip in between her legs, placing her thighs on yours.
You can’t resist reaching down to brush your fingers over her clit. She looks so pretty like this. Spread wide for you, naked and wanting. She looks vulnerable, like she’s yours for the taking.
“You’re so beautiful.” You tell her, spread her thighs a little wider.
She bites her lip as you lean in a little, rub the head of the dildo through her folds.
She’s wet, wet enough for you to not need lube but you reach for it anyway. Pour a healthy helping into the dildo. She flinches slightly as the cold hits her warm heat. You apologize with a kiss.
You slip your tongue into her mouth, rub the head of the dildo against her clit. She sighs into your mouth.
“Inside.” She murmurs. “Please baby.”
You rub your hands over her thighs, soothe her as you slowly enter her.
“Fuck.” You gasp out as the edge of the strap-on brushes your clit. You sink in as far as you can physically get, until your hips are flush against the back of her thighs. She’s tight, tense against you. You kiss her, let her get used to the stretch of you.
Then, you gently jerk your hips forward. Her hands grip your arms, she shudders slightly as you sink back inside.
It’s not hard to see why she likes doing this to you so much.
You feel powerful, tilting your hips into her, knowing you’re the one inside her, making her feel so good. She’s a little breathier than usual. Her chest flushing red, biting her lips as you thrust into her. It’s addictive.
“Does that feel good, baby?” You murmur. She nods, eyes closed. You lean down, rub her clit.
“Tell me.”
“It feels good. Really good.” She says, her voice strangled. Higher than usual.
You pump your hips a little harder.
“I love it when you let me fuck you like this.” You murmur, lean down to press your body over hers. Pepper her neck with kisses, “You look so pretty like this, sweetheart.”
You grip her thighs, tilting your hips. The act itself was hot, but more than anything you knew she’d never let anyone else take control like this. The fact that she trusts you so much turns you on even more. You press down into her, fuck her a little harder.
She gasps.
You lose yourself a little. Your hips thrust hard, fucking her into the mattress. She’s all soft skin and quiet moans, her fingernails carving half moons into your back. You kiss her, a little sloppy, overwhelmed by the way she’s writhing under you.
Each thrust edges you a little closer. You suck on the base of her neck, reach down to rub her clit, needing her close.
“Fuck.” She moans, “I’m going to cum.”
Her back arches.
You pound into her a little harder, sending her careening off the edge. Her entire body tightens, nails clawing into you as you fuck her through her orgasm. Then, with one more thrust you join her, body tensing as you orgasm hard.
You heartbeat thrums. You press a kiss to her chest, feel her heart pound under your lips. Then you’re moving back up to her lips, taking her in a sweet kiss.
You lay on her a little longer, until she’s yawning sleepily, then withdraw yourself with a careful tug, and slip the straps off your waist.
You nestle yourself into her side, wrap a protective arm around her body.
“Thanks, baby.” You murmur, “Love you.”
“Love you too.” She says.
Her eyes droop slightly.
She wakes herself up, tries to reach down your body.
“Go to sleep, babe.” You tell her, press one more kiss to her lips.
“What about you?”
“You already made me cum.” You tell her, you rub her leg, tug her into you. “Doing that.”
“What, just lying there?” She smiles, tilts her head into your chest.
“Laying there incredibly sexily.” You say. “Did you like that?”
She hums. Rubs her hand against your hips.
“Yes. More than I thought I would.” She says, a little shy.
“Good.” You say. Kiss her slow, “Because I want to do that again. And again. And again after that.”
“Hmm.” She says, “I might be okay with that.”
Next part
#ah#ghostface!tara#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x fem reader#imagines#scream#jenna ortega#Jenna Ortega x reader
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THE POPPY PLAYTIME CHAPTER 3 TRAILER IS SOOO!,?!.?.!.
What a great treat to wake up to—Excuse me while I go insane and spill some thoughts, reactions, theories, and predictions below please
ahem
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
SO LIKE FIRST OFF this chapter is gonna fuck, like this looks SO good holy shit
The setting and environment looks amazing but also the new hands mechanic along with the mask ohhhh this is gonna be FUN
Okay rambling about screenshots I took time
First off the environments look great, holy wow
The house itself looks kinda small so idk if that is the orphanage itself or some kind of set. Cause you can see fake sky walls around it, but like this is Playtime Co they would definitely do that to the orphanage also to give an illusion of outside. Either way it looks GREAT and I’m really excited to explore this setting
Just a nice shot of all the critters
I’m really curious if all the critters are gonna be utilized somehow. We know about Catnap and Dogday already, especially after the trailer itself. Though there was also the footage of Bobby running down the hall, looking like a normal plushie, and possibly seeing Hoppy in the trailer too. (I’ll touch on that later)
New Poster
Definitely looks like some company propaganda to try and keep kids from being afraid of CatNap. Judging by the files we got before looks like the results were a mixed bag. Considering the gas is there in the poster it’s definitely a company only poster, not something they could sell outside. They manipulated this kids so bad man :(
A CLEANER LOOK OF THIS THING,,,
THATS A SKELETON COMING OUT OF PUGAPILLAR’S MOUTH…Like that’s just straight up human remains.
I don’t think we’ve ever seen that before in this game. Like blood yeah plenty but BONES? They’re definitely amping things up for this chapter and I’m 100% here for it.
Besides that there’s a ton of plushies and such stabbed onto this weird thing. Is it a shrine? It doesn’t look like it could really move tbh, and if it was meant to be alive those parts aren’t doing anything to help it.
This poor mf
I’ve seen a lot of people speculate this is DogDay, which is a valid guess, but tbh my first thought was Hoppy. You can tell they have long droopy ears, which lines up with both candidates to me. Though I think the ears look a bit slimmer than what Dog Day’d would be, plus the angle on the head looks more like they’re dropping from the top of the head rather than the sides. I feel like if this was DogDay the whole head silhouette would be different because of the ears, which makes me lean towards Hoppy more.
I know her toy gives her long pointed up ears, but going off art and animation her ears can definitely fold
So I don’t think it’s out of the question that as a Bigger Bodies being her ears could fold over like that, especially while stuck like this.
Now I could be the one wrong here but I really think this is Hoppy. Won’t know until the game itself though so, I won’t treat either as divinities yet. It could just as easily be the case everyone else is right and it is DogDay, there’s evidence for that as well (Again, I’ll touch on that later).
So much happened here where do I even start
Obvious out the bat I guess, Kissy Missy is back!! And looks like Poppy isn’t ditching us alone either! Man I cannot tell it Poppy is good or not at this point, gray area? Trailer dialogue definitely sounded like she was supporting us.
“We’re coming! Just hold on!”
It’s really nice seeing Kissy back, really excited to see how she’s gonna help and play into this. I’ve been on the stance that she’s good ever since she helped in chapter 2 so this is really cathartic for me lmao.
As for what Poppy says here I found it interesting, like really interesting. Like, hearing it the first time made me think she casually confirmed something massive interesting. Granted, actually thinking about it longer, it could mean something else entirely. But was that the whole point?
“What’s happening down here is bigger than all of us. I need you. So we can revenge on those monsters who’ve tortured you, who’ve tortured us.”
“Those monsters who’ve tortured you”
Now, once I thought about it this is most likely referring to the literal monsters in the factory. Huggy, Mommy, CatNap, so on and such. But that’s not what my initial assumption was.
When Poppy referred to “monsters”, by first thought was the people working at the factory. I thought she said people at the factory tortured us.
I thought she confirmed that we’re a toy.
Once I thought about it longer, it doesn’t actually confirm that. But what if that’s the entire point? A double meaning line?
Now the player being a toy theory is something that’s been around since chapter 1, a theory I’ve fully stood by since then and still do. I like to think that’s why our character is completely silent, we’re a toy that can’t speak. Mute toys is something we’ve seen plenty of in the factory, more so than toys that actually talk. (Unless you count stuff like the Smiling Critters cartoon or the cardboard cutouts, but I’m talking purely living beings here.)
So while this doesn’t confirm the theory, this line is definitely throwing wood into the fire for me.
DogDay
Wether or not the chained Bigger Body above us DogDay or Hoppy, we have it confirmed here that DogDay is featured heavily in this chapter as an enemy. Again, I really wonder if the other Smiling Critters will show up as threats as well. Maybe a mixed bag of good and bad critters. If the chained up Bigger Body is DogDay, I wonder why he chases us after we assumingely set him free.
One note I’ll give that is to evidence for the chained bigger body being DogDay is that in the thumbnail you can see a shackle on his wrist
His arms are also long and lanky, which is why I won’t completely rule out it possibly being him there. It’s just as possible that it is him, both feel very plausible to me.
Though looking at the game footage, I’m not sure if can can see anything on his wrists. Additionally his arms look much wider than the one in thumbnail.
Additionally, the DogDay in the thumbnail looks so much like a…mascot suit? You can see seams and stitches all over him. Even other Bigger Bodies don’t look like that. Which is something I wanna give its own post to to figure deeper on.
So is this even the same DogDay at all?
It’s not completely out of the question there could be multiple DogDays, though that begs the question, what about other Smiling Critters? What about other toys as a whole?
Here’s my prediction on it. One Bigger Bodies experiment, and then there’s smaller ones approximately the size of their normal toys.
I think the DogDay in the thumbnail is a result of the Bigger Bodies testing, and the one actually chasing us is just a smaller more “normal” DogDay.
But if that’s true then it begs the question, what about other critters? We’ve seen a smaller Bobby before, does she also have a Bigger Bodies version?
Do they all have a Bigger Bodies equivalent?
Is there still a normal CatNap?
Again, all speculation but this chapter especially is really tickling my brain.
And finally we’ve got the man of the hour
Man he is so much lankier than I thought he would be. That definitely explains why his face was so high up on that one cam footage though. Here I was thinking he’d be bulky!
There isn’t too much to say here other than CatNap is definitely gonna be an imposing threat, and I’m very excited to see him in game. So far we’ve mainly seen him through silhouettes, and light peeks at small portions of his design. Seeing him better is game is gonna be a thrill and I’m so ready for it!
Additionally, just for the sake of adding on, we’ve seen these posters apparently from overseas get spread around lately
Both of these definitely look like they’re meant to be company only posters, ones you’d find in the schooling and orphanage areas.
The left poster telling kids to go inside right away when recess is up, nothing super deep here. Just a peek at the schooling that had here, and that these kids had their lives completely contained within the factory.
The second poster is CatNap telling Huggy to go to sleep, another attempt at convincing children CatNap isn’t dangerous. If Huggy is fine they will be too, right?
Anyways that’s my initial thoughts and reactions right after watching the trailer. VERY excited about this game, it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to brainstorm on my own over a game like this so I’m really looking forward to what this chapter has to give.
#long post#poppy playtime#poppy playtime chapter 3#catnap#poppy playtime catnap#huggy wuggy#kissy missy#dogday#poppy playtime theory
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Koutarou attends The Nutcracker for his sister, Kai, who's dancing as the Snow Queen.
This is her second year in the role, but he missed last time, so he’s so excited! He can’t wait to see his big sister dance!
And then he sees him.
In the role of the Snow King is a young prodigy named Akaashi Keiji. He’s a year younger than Koutarou, and his sister says Akaashi is “the best dance partner she’s ever had.”
Koutarou is immediately enamored. His eyes follow Akaashi wherever he goes on stage, despite Kai being the focal point of the routine. He’s lean, but obviously so strong, capable of lifting, throwing and catching his sister flawlessly. Effortlessly.
(Also, those tights look so good on him.)
Koutarou pretty much begs his sister to introduce them. “Please! I’ll do anything!” He cries as he unleashes the full force of his pout. “I don’t even care if he’s not available or interested in me! I just want to meet him!”
She finally relents after a week of his hassling. Koutarou attends the show again on closing night. He’s a bit nervous. The Nutcracker has been a huge hit, with critics and audiences alike praising the Snow Queen and King specifically. Akaashi’s name is on everyone’s lips; he's “the next big thing” in the Tokyo dance scene.
“Calm down, Kou,” Kai hisses as she leads him down the hall and towards the theater’s green room. “He’s just a person just like you. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
Koutarou nods. Swallows. He holds his breath as they finally step into the room.
They find Akaashi casually leaning against the back wall, munching on an apple and swiping through his phone. Koutarou’s eyes roam his form. He’s wearing a cropped, midnight blue hoodie that cuts off at the hem of his black joggers, displaying his slim build. His feet are covered in a pair of beat-up sneakers.
“Keiji dear, do you have a moment?”
Akaashi looks up, and Koutarou sucks in a breath. The man has perhaps the prettiest eyes Koutarou has ever seen. A devastating mix of blue-green-grey, piercing, with heavy lids and long lashes.
Surprisingly, those eyes widen when as they land on Koutarou, and his mouth drops open. “Of course,” he nods, “um, hello.” His voice is like velvet, soft yet with a gravely texture that send a shiver through Koutarou. He also can’t help but notice that Akaashi is a few inches shorter, which forces the man to look up at him as they approach.
Oh my god, he's an actual angel.
Kai pulls her brother forward until the two men are a few paces apart. She squeezes his arm, a gesture she’s been using since they were kids to lend him comfort, encouragement. He leans appreciatively into the warm touch.
“It’s, um, it’s wonderful to finally meet you, Bokuto-san.”
Koutarou blinks, confused. Akaashi is addressing him as if he knows who he is. “Oh! Uh, it’s nice to meet you, too!” He grins sheepishly. “Did Kai tell you I was coming, or..?”
The man shakes his head. Now that they’re so close, Koutarou notices leftover sparkles and flecks of fake snow still clinging to Akaashi’s wavy black hair.
Enchanting.
“Well, I did know you were her brother… but I didn’t know you would be here tonight.” His eyes narrow at Kai, who chuckles.
“Keiji here is a big fan of volleyball,” she smirks at her brother, who nearly chokes at the new information. "He watched every single one your matches at the last Olympics. Apparently.”
“Really?!” Koutarou can’t believe his ears. Akaashi Keiji, the beautiful man who he’s been obsessing over the last few weeks, is a fan of him, too? It’s a bonafide Christmas miracle!
“Yes,” Akaashi’s lips twitch upward. It’s not quite a smile, but close. “I’ve, ah, been hoping Kai would introduce us someday.”
Koutarou beams. He can’t even be angry at his sister for keeping the secret. He’s just too happy right now. "I'm so glad she did!"
They end up at the closing night after party, sitting side by side in a booth, surrounded by family and friends. Conversation flows easily. Akaashi is rather quiet, but he seems content to just listen to Koutarou talk. He occasionally barks out a dry, sarcastic comment that only enamors Koutarou further.
He also smells nice. Like sandalwood and rose. Koutarou has to restrain himself from taking a big, long whiff.
“Y-you know, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, words slurring a bit from the whiskey shots he’d just downed. “I actually played a bit volleyball when I was younger.”
Koutarou gasps. “You did?!”
Akaashi giggles, then hiccups, and it’s the cutest thing Koutarou has ever heard. “I did,” Akaashi nods, “but only into middle school. Dance sort of took over my life after that. I’ve continued to follow the sport, though.”
Koutarou is having trouble containing his excitement. He grips his beer with one hand and reaches to grip Akaashi’s forearm lightly with the other. “You have to play with me someday!”
Akaashi snorts (wait, no, that is the cutest thing Koutarou has ever heard) and shakes his head. “I couldn’t possibly keep up with a pro player like you…”
“And I can’t keep up with your dancing,” Koutarou winks. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do that with you sometime. If you want, that is...”
For a brief moment, Akaashi just stares, and Koutarou wonders if he’s being too forward. But then Akaashi’s lips settle into a sweet smile, and he glances down into his drink. His sharp cheekbones bloom with color. “Are you asking me on a date, Bokuto-san?”
Well then. Koutarou hadn’t expected things to progress this quickly, but sometimes, fate has other plans. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “maybe..?”
Akaashi looks up, and Koutarou is suddenly drowning. He swears his sees an entire future in those stormy eyes, just waiting to pull him under.
(And Koutarou would go, gladly.)
“I would love to,” Akaashi says, leaning forward to clank their glasses together. “Merry Christmas, Bokuto-san.”
//
A short advert ft. The Nutcracker's snow scene 💙❄️
Thank you for reading this sappy little thing I wrote after working a week straight of Nutcracker performances (eight shows in one week; it was insane). If you enjoyed this, PLEASE reblog! It really helps me out, way more than just a like (though I appreciate those, too). You can also share my post on Twitter! Thanks everyone for your support this year. It’s been rough, for many reasons. I hope you all have a happy holiday season. Here’s to 2024! 🥰
#bokuaka#akaboku#akaashi keiji#bokuto koutarou#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu!!#fanfic#my writing#ficlet#drabble#HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE#the nutcracker#ballet
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Hey slug! Obviously it's a bit older now, but I was wondering if you might be able to translate Sougyaran BAM, from Kuko? I feel like I don't quite understand the TLs I have seen, so I was wondering if there were certain references or concepts I'm missing here lol
I saw the email notification of this request at the perfect moment. Too anxious to do work or anything else productive. Too caffeinated to sleep. Fuck it. Time to look at Kuukou for an hour.
Under a cut for length
Like a lot of Kuukou's... well, everything... this song is an eclectic mix of elements that can all more or less be distilled into these couple of bullet points:
Trying to fight the listener
Dropping powerful life advice or Buddhist teachings
Claiming his music is both a game changer and the kind of stuff that gets your blood pumping
Scatting, rhyming without meaning, or otherwise making wordplay
Outside of the parts that are straight-up nonsensical, the majority of the rap is very casual to the point of being rude. However, it's also interspersed with formal religious language. Again, both of these are how Kuukou talks, but I get why this would make it difficult for someone to translate.
I talk about this a lot whenever I translate anything, but an important (and maybe the most important!) part of any translation is determining the methodology, focus, and goals before you begin. I figure that if someone's asking me to look at song lyrics for songs that have been out for years, they probably care a lot more about the minutiae of what the character's saying than if I'm writing a rap as part of a longer work where readers aren't going to give it much attention. In that second case, it's probably more important to convey the appearance of a rap--rhyme, rhythm, what have you--and make sure I'm hitting the overall meaning rather than translate word-for-word. You know? The issue is, translating word-for-word would produce mostly nonsense on this one, since my interpretation of its meaning is largely coming from reading between the lines. There's also no real meaning outside of the four bullet points above. It's all vibes. So, this is a vibe-focused translation. When Kuukou says something with no meaning (that I can tell) outside of wordplay, I've exchanged it with a fresh wordplay. At the same time, since I assume the audience wants to know the minutiae, I put footnotes at the very end for the most curious souls. Finally, outside of wordplay moments, there is no attention paid to rhyming, rhythm, or line length.
Also I spent like forty minutes on it so it isn't a polished work of art or anything of the sort.
Lyrics:
You wanna piece of this? That’s cool, tough guy. Bring it on.
‘Cause I’mma mess you up. Hmm? You’ve had enough? Yeah, bitch, I bet you’re fuckin’ SATIETIED. Who the hell do you think you are?
Aw, who I am kidding? It doesn’t matter who you are. I’ve never met an ass I couldn’t kick!
And while I’m here thrashing your sorry butt, listen up.
I’m Kuukou from Bad Ass Temple, representing Nagoya, yo.
And I’m gonna be world champion.
Whazzat? Who do I think I am, some kinda fancy-pants hotshot? Nah, dawg. I’m a monk, haha!
Get in the zone, do it or go home, this ain’t the scene you’ve known. [1]
I’m a rebellious rhymer staging a revolution. C’mon, join me! Let me hear your voices!
“Enough determination can move mountains,” as they say.
Yeah, a-a-a-and I’ve got determination for days.
San gha gharan bam! [2]
S-S-S-Scatting n’ rapping, rapping with my razzle-dazzle tongue [3]
Check, ch-ch-ch-check it, che-wa-watch out
Gha bam!
S-S-S-Scatting n’ rapping, rapping, BAT’s sexy leader [4]
Kick, kickin’ kickin’ killer
San gha gharan bam gha gha gharan bam gha gha gharan bam
Gha gha gha gha gharan bam
Say what? Rules, rules, rules—who the fuck cares about rules?
I’m the ruler now.
A ruler and a schooler. [5] Yo, I’ve got that brand new music—
When I ring this giant bell, people hear that shit far and wide. Beat it!
And lyrics? You already know I spit so much fire they call me a dragon.
I’m all about the impulses, the anarchy, let’s fuckin’ go! I’m a breath of fresh air up in this shit.
Eight pulls, nine pulls, ten pulls—someone say temples? [6]
If you don’t know already, then you oughta listen up. You don’t need any of these options. Go make your own.
Paint that shit vibrantly. Go try something new! And if it goes so well you can indulge in some goddamn rejoicin’? Then hell yeah, now we’re talking.
Yo, man. The world’s all in how you see it, as they say, and don’t you ever forget it.
A-a-a-and I may be a monk, but I’m not preachin’ just to scold you! [7]
San gha gharan bam!
S-S-S-Scatting n’ rapping, rapping with my razzle-dazzle tongue
Check, ch-ch-ch-check it, che-wa-watch out
Gha bam!
S-S-S-Scatting n’ rapping, rapping, BAT’s sexy leader
Kick, kickin’ kickin’ killer
San gha gharan bam gha gha gharan bam gha gha gharan bam
Gha gha gha gha gharan bam
Yeah, life’s got ups and downs. You asking me, “Whatchu lookin’ at?” [8] Your ASS, lol got ‘em.
Wassup, wassup, I’m a rhymer. I’m makin’ some good shit up in here. Hm?
Ey, dance, dance over days when our hearts are aligned [9]
Shoo bidoo doo bidoo Roo bidoo doo bidoo
Tickili tickili tackili-tatt-too
Yeah! Haha! My rapping’s freakin’ EXHILARATORY. Hello!
Aight, c’mon on, lemme give you some of this and wake you right up. Yo, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, ho!
Gharan bam gharan bam
Gh-gh-gh-gh hey!
Bring it on, tough guy!
R-r-rapping, rapping, r-r-rapping with my razzle-dazzle tongue
R-r-rapping, yeah, gh-gh-gh, hey!
Yeah, clear the scene, ‘cause I’mma reinvent the scene. [10] Yo, get outta my way.
I’m Evil Monk, the dragon of Bad Ass Temple, you know.
Rrrrrrah!
[1] This last is literally "clear weather (空)" or "energetic vibes (空)." At face value, it appears to be nonsense for rhyming. However, at the very end of the song, Kuukou talks about "the vibes/the scene (空気)" changing and him changing it (which can also be read as the weather changing/clearing up), which makes me wonder if those two are related. Just in case, I wrote them with a possible connection in English too.
[2] 僧伽藍 (sangharan) is a short form of 僧伽藍摩 (sangharama), a Buddhist temple or monastery. Bam is, of course, the sound of Kuukou throwing hands.
[3] 饒舌 (jouzetsu) is a fairly formal word in Japanese to refer to excessive talking. However, I was surprised to learn in the process of TLing this that it's also Chinese for rapping which appears to be how Kuukou's using it here. Also, if you're curious how English "jazzy" became "razzle-dazzle," I realized near the end of the song that I needed to start this word with the same sound as "rapping" (because he scats the j sound on jazzy and jouzetsu) whereupon I set out to find a good synonym. The issue is, I wasn't sure exactly how the lyric writers were using the term, so I put "jazzy" in an English-to-Japanese dictionary to get "loud, invigorating, eye-catching." Yeah, that's Kuukou all right. "Razzle-dazzle" is similar and starts with an r, so there we go.
[4] The lyrics say "xy な leader" (the な is just indicating that "xy" is being used as an adjective, btw) which I assumed means sexy... ekkusu ii said quickly sounds like sekushii. To be sure I wasn't barking up the wrong tree entirely, I ran a quick Twitter search on that line and found a very large number of Japanese Tweeters thinking the exact same thing I was. (It looks like Kuukou's VA once flashed his collarbone on this line in a concert, delighting scores of collarbone lovers everywhere.) That being said, searching anything on Twitter and finding horny Tweets isn't exactly a novel concept. Well, if I'm wrong about this, then at least I'm in the good company of all the thirsty Kuukou fans. Hahaha. If this seems OoC to you, I feel like it's here mainly for fanservice, not necessarily because Kuukou's trying to get some with the person he's beating up and/or preaching at. Although, idk. If you ship Kuukou with anyone, you could very well see some parallels...
[5] Literally "I'll beat up [everything] including the roulette board." Wordplay on rules (ruuru), ruler (ruuraa), and roulette (ruuretto)
[6] Literally "Terapii (therapy), terapii, terapii, tera (temple)-- Oh, the age of temples?" Wordplay/stupid joke
[7] I don't like how I worded this line, but I don't care enough to spend much more time fussing over it. Kuukou's making a joke that, as a monk, he delivers religious sermons 説法. However, in colloquial terms, a 説法 is a telling-off when someone does something undesirable. Kuukou, as a frequent doer of undesirable things, gets these from his dad constantly. Therefore, he's being like, "This isn't the LAME STUPID kind of 説法... this is the kind that ROCKS! *sick guitar riff*"
[8] These two lines seem like complete non sequiturs because they're paired together in Japanese for rhyming. (nami ga dekiru/nani ga mieru)
[9] I admit that I'm struggling to understand this line because the grammar is very irregular. Japanese Twitter is not being especially helpful here, as most Tweets featuring it are some version of "God, this damn song is stuck in my head."
[10] Literally "[Someone] changes the atmosphere/scene. The atmosphere/scene changes." See note 1
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jade you are such a wonderful writer and i appreciate everything you post so much!! if this sounds like something you’d want to write, i’d love to see zombie au steve and reader find a lil creek/lake somewhere to cool off and they’re all giggly and happy swimming together for just a little while :)
hi! thanks so much!! this isn't exactly what you asked for but i hope it's OK regardless!!!! ♡ gn!reader zombie!au
You wake up to three quick and insistent kisses across your greasy forehead. You tense at first but quickly relax; a geek would hardly treat you this nicely.
"You know the rules" you murmur groggily, hiding your face in the make-shift pillow fashioned under your head.
"Do I?" Steve asks. He sounds spritely, a stark contrast to your ever bearing fatigue.
"You can't be sweet to me when I'm dirty."
Steve waits for you to open your eyes before he answers. He's sitting near your chest, knee kicked up and face turned to you completely. There's an excitement on his face you've begun to see more and more as you've grown together. It's a very friendly expression. Better than friendly.
"That isn't the rule. The rule was that I can't be affectionate when you're dirty."
"Same difference."
"Those were hate kisses. I don't like you. And you're not dirty, we're dirty."
"Semantics."
"Gesundheit."
You try not to laugh because he doesn't need the encouragement. It's an impossible task and you fail spectacularly, your eyes glued to Steve's. His mirror your own, beaming with a happiness you'd genuinely thought was impossible.
But things have been good lately. You have to take happiness where you can get it, which is currently in the middle of nowhere in a brownstone fancier than any home you'd been in before, surrounded by the previous owner's fantastic stockpile. God bless couponers. It's mostly more toothpaste than you'll ever use and soaps and shampoos, all the commodities you'd taken for granted once upon a time. There'd been a regular amount of canned foods, which is to say a half a pantry full. Enough for you and Steve to rest for a while.
So, you're in the relative safety of rural somewhere neck deep in toiletries you've sorely missed, but with one problem — you can't find any water. There'd been a couple of crates of bottled water in the pantry, but you and Steve aren't stupid enough to waste it getting clean.
And safety makes Steve touchy. Touchy while you're disgusting.
"Please can I kiss you again?" he asks gently.
You close your eyes and nod. He really makes this one count, a hand heavy on your shoulder as he leans his weight into you and kisses your forehead in the same spot.
He breaks the kiss to touch his forehead to yours. It's a really nice gesture, a soft touch, and it makes you want to hug him to your chest and stay sandwiched for hours.
"Our grease is totally mixing right now," Steve says.
You push him away and laugh so hard it stings, a sudden biting exhale like it's been stolen from you. He's unexpectedly charming, now. Now he's your boyfriend.
Though you use that word in your head. Because there's really no need to say it aloud. After all, who's around to hear it?
You've never talked about it but all these kisses and all his lightness makes you think it's fair to label him as your boyfriend. Your partner.
"Anyways… I might have good news," he says, putting on a casual air.
"You found me some hand lotion." You have cracked palms.
He drops a small tube on top of your chest.
You genuinely squeak. "No fricking way! Where did you find it?" You'd searched through the master bedroom early on, but hadn't bothered in the other bedroom. You'd taken one look at the bikini poster on the wall and given up hope.
"Think the kid must've had a girlfriend. But that's not it."
You uncap the lotion and pour some into your hands. "No?"
"No, he had a bunch of fishing stuff. A tent, rods, everything. Which made me think-"
"There's-"
"A lake. Or a pond, at least. Close by."
You massage a little bit of lotion into his hands with a grin. "Get your boots on."
-
You and Steve follow a dirt path just off of the house's Street down into a thicket of trees. You mark your progress carefully so you'll remember how to get back and try not to cling to him. It's better to have both hands to yourself and eyes scouting for potential danger, but the temptation to take his hand becomes too much.
He squeezes your fingers. "Don't get stupid, okay?"
It sounds harsh, but he's right. You can get stupid about this.
The dirt is wetter as you walk, the smell of marshland all too evident. The toiletries in your bag thunk together as you and Steve break into a slow jog.
"See it?" he asks, grinning.
"What?" You trample him trying to get a better look. "Where?"
He grabs your shoulder and turns your gaze.
You gasp in awe.
Steve pulls you along and suddenly you're running, laughing and excited, shoes slipping over the wet grass and dirt until the lake is in clear view, growing larger and larger and larger.
You stop at the edge of an old wooden dock and stare at an expanse of almost blue.
A family of birds swim at the opposite end.
"Ducks," you say breathlessly.
Steve insists that you go in first. He stands watch, laughs loudly and unsympathetically when you jump into the lake and emerge gasping at the cold.
"It's summer! It was supposed to be warm!" you complain, wiping your face with both hands.
Steve chuckles where he sits at the end of the dock with his knife in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other.
"You should come in with me," you say.
"I already told you that's not happening."
"Stevie, all we have is your knife. We're kind of fucked either way, so you might as well come in here and risk your life with me."
"And if a geek comes by?"
"They can't swim!" You move back toward the dock, on tiptoes to reach the bottom. "Please."
He reluctantly begins to strip. You're in that new part of a relationship where this should be nerve-wracking, but the apocalypse has sort of stolen those firsts and blended them up. You've already seen each other half-nude. You wolf whistle as he shrugs down to his boxers.
He winks at you, grabs a bar of soap, and dives in.
You laugh at the water he upends, splashed and cold and happy. Really happy. Steve emerges as you had, gasping at the cold with his hair slicked to his face. You swim to him.
"Fucking freezing," he says, taking your arms into his hands.
"Where's the soap?" you ask.
"Dropped it. Gonna have to swim for it before it dissolves."
You both laugh, breathless with the cold, and share a few long seconds in each other's space. The only warmth is his hands.
"Think I can kiss you now?" he asks.
"Depends, does my face look dirty?"
"Not the word I'd use."
You cup water in your palm and scrub your face. "What word would you use?" you ask, water dripping from your eyelashes. "Is that better?"
"Your face," he begins with a laugh, "looks pretty. You're beautiful."
He reaches for your cheek, thumb brushing with enough pressure to pull. "And much cleaner already."
You wipe his face in turn. "I can't say the same."
His kiss is very warm and twice as soft. Water drips from his hand where it cups your cheek, rivulets streaming from your jawline and down his wrist.
You break away to kiss his pulse.
"You were on the swim team, right? The fish are gonna eat all our soap," you hint.
He rolls his eyes, steals one last kiss, and disappears into the blue.
-
more steve zombie au
#steve zombie!au#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x gn!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#zombie!au
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I'm In Control Part 21 (Steddie X You)
A/N: No real notes today :) Just hope y'all enjoy <3
Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie and all that that implies. (I regret nothing!), An ex appears making the reader jealous and act out (more so just being a brat). Matthew comes to visit! (Yay!). These two siblings casually talk about their trauma and how the reader feels she isn't good enough for them (mentioned in last chapter), Smut for sure with slapping and spanks. Blindfolds and ice play. I believe that's it.
Word Count: 5061
“How do you not know where she is?”
“TJ, we aren’t her keeper. She said she had an errand to run but didn’t elaborate. It’s still her lunch hour. Calm down.”
Your boss glares at Steve. “Mr. Harrington, did you just tell me to calm down?”
“Depends. Did you like it?” The man winks cheekily at TJ as they both laugh.
The door to your office opens and you lean against the doorway adorning a huge grin.
“Where have you been, Y/N?”
“I had to pick something up.”
“’Ello, boys.” Matthew’s tall frame appears behind you as he waves.
“Hey, man!” The boys get up to greet him as your brother smiles, pulling them in for a hug.
“TJ and Avery, this is my little brother, Matthew.”
“Jesus. Another good-looking kid to make me feel old.” Your boss rises to shake his hand. “Now, you’re not like the other Y/L/N’s, right?”
“That is correct. Sex feels good, porn is alright, tattoos are cool, and churches scare me.” He chuckles as you lean back against him. “I also love my sister as is, you slut.”
“I love you to, heathen.”
“Hey, you should come with us to the club tonight. We’re all going together finally.”, Avery beams as Matthew nods.
“I actually have to drop off these two on a set but they will be coming by after. Speaking of, Eddie and Steve, we should probably go.”
##############
“Hey Derek.”, you grin at the director as he beams over at you.
“Hey mama! How are you?”
“I’m good. I brought your talent.” You gesture towards the guys who smile back at him.
“Great! Now, we had a slight mix up. Well, not really a mix up. The young lady you guys were going to be working with got sick so I had to reach out to a nearby agency to get a new actress.”
A gorgeous woman with a plethora of tattoos, mostly on her arms and legs, sauntered from down a nearby hallway. Her skin looked incredibly smooth and her long blond hair sat perfectly on her shoulders. Her smile glowed but there was something off about it that you couldn’t put your finger on.
A breathy fuck came from your side and her eyes widened as she focused on theirs. You knew actors in this industry and honestly this girl in front of you was a fairly good one. She may have seemed shocked to see them but you saw the faint smirk twitch on her lips at their stunned expressions.
“Guys this is—”
“Cassie Leigh.”, Eddie finished.
“Oh shit. I’m, uh, I’ll just be in the car.” Matthew slowly backed away and exited the front door.
You exhaled heavily as you turned to face them. “Oh? How do you guys know each other? Work?”
“Hey Derek, can we have a moment alone?” The director nodded at Steve as he went to check the cameras. “What are you doing here, Cassandra? Thought you moved back home.”
“I did but, you know, I saw your new show online and it just…motivated me to come back and try again. The industry I mean, not you two.”, she giggled.
“Yet you find yourself here on set with them. How odd.”, you smile at her as you turn your sarcasm to them. “So not just work then?”
“We had a relationship with her when we first moved down here.”, Eddie answers as his eyes finally meet yours. “More of an…arrangement.”
“I guess you could call it that especially since relationships weren’t really your thing.”
“How would you know? You left so quickly there wouldn’t have been time for one to evolve.”
“Oooo ‘evolve’. That’s a big word for you, Daddy.”
Steve glares at her, stepping forward before you place your hand on his chest to stop him.
“Haven’t changed at all have you, Cass?” Eddie’s tone is full of agitation.
“Hm. Never seemed to bother you two.”
“Hey, Y/N. We’re ready. Is there a problem?” Derek asks from across the room.
A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips as you push past them towards the door.
“Hey! Hey, hey, hey.” Steve grabs your arm turning you back around.
“I’ve got to say you two continue to fascinate me. I mean, I get why you would have a relationship…I mean ARRANGEMENT. My fault. I get why you would have an ARRANGEMENT with her. She’s a beautiful young woman but she doesn’t really seem like the submissive type.”
“Neither did you.”
You glare at Eddie as you pull yourself out of Steve’s grasp. “I imagine the sex was mind blowing which if your agreement with her was anything like ours then I get why she’s here.”
“Y/N, we aren’t in an agreement. We are in a relationship.” Steve was trying extremely hard to control his temper. “You can’t be jealous.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Harrington? Did I just hear you tell me how I’m not allowed to feel? You know what? You’re right. I can’t be jealous. This is just work, right? Go head. Fuck her all over the house for all I fucking care.”
You storm out as you stomp towards the car. Again, Steve’s hand reaches for you and spins you to face him.
“The fact that you think we would, work or not, is very frustrating, Y/N. This isn’t work for her. They would have told her she would be partnering with us. She knew we’d be here.”
“I’m not fucking stupid, Steven.”
His face twitched at the name as his head tilted to the side. “Then why are you being a fucking brat right now?”
You both stared each other down until you felt someone standing behind you and gently but firmly reached for the man’s wrist. “Ok. I know everyone is a bit amped up but Steve I’m going to need you to let go of her now, ok?” Matthew’s voice matched his movement, ready to defend you if he needed to.
Steve’s angry eyes flicked to your brother before letting you go who gently pushed you towards the passenger seat before coming back around to glance at them.
“Do what you need to do but give her some space. If you come at her right now when you’re all like this she will shut down.”
#############
“Talk to me, Y/N!” Matthew shouted over the music of the club as you chugged back the martini in your hand, gesturing for the waiter to bring you another.
“I don’t want to! Just let me drink and be angry, okay?!”
“Okay but why are you angry?! It’s just work right?!”
There’s a lull in the music as you turn to sullenly look at him. “Yeah but—”
“She’s their ex.”
“It’s not even that but…”
“But what?”
A heavy bass fills the room before you can answer. You reach for his hand and bring him to a patio that’s outside, allowing him to reach in his pocket and light a cigarette.
“I got incredibly sick last week and in my haze I told them I’m always worried they can do better.”
“Y/N…”
“I know. We talked about it and I believe them when they say they love me. That I’m the only one for them but then I saw that girl…she’s not like me.”
“Probably one of the many reasons they love you. Y/N, there is a reason they aren’t with this girl anymore. Also don’t forget, you met her for like, what… 5 minutes? You don’t know the whole story. You’re just letting our parents get in your brain again.”
You nod at his observation. “Matthew… our parents disowned me because I’m not perfect. What if—”
“No ma’am. Don’t even go there. Our parents disowned US because of their ignorance. Honey, being human means you’ll never be perfect but you’re perfect for them.”
You smile as you wrap your arms around him. “Thank you for being you.” He grins as he kisses the top of your head. “I’m going to go grab another drink. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as you disappear, Eddie and Steve find Matthew outside.
“Hey, man. Where is she?”, the metalhead asks.
“She went to go grab another drink.” They nod at him as they take a sip from the glasses in their hands. “She told me you asked her to move in with you guys.” Steve meets his gaze as he nods again. “She also told me what happened at the wedding you guys went to before your impromptu trip to Indiana.”
Matthew squishes his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “I like you guys a lot but I’m warning you now. Something like that is a big step for her and if you hurt her again like you guys did before…I will kill you.” He grins at them as he pats Eddie’s shoulder. “And I don’t mean that in like a sarcastic way. She’s been through enough.”
They glance at each other, knowing he means what he’s saying. After following him back into the club, they find you dancing and smiling with Avery. Your brother chuckles as he watches you have fun. “You never would have guessed we grew up in an uber religious house!” The boys laugh along with him as he nudges Steve with his elbow. “And not just because of the dancing, Daddy!”
Their eyes widen as they turn to face him making Matthew laugh harder. “She has bruises on her wrist and arms that look like fingerprints! My sister didn’t want to tell me at first but when I told her they look like the same kind of marks girls leave my bedroom with…! It’s kind of funny! In bed I always like to be control! I assumed it was because we never had any growing up!”
The music dies down again and you giggle as you wrap your arms around your client, heading back towards your brother.
“You would think she would be the same but I guess not.”
“Maybe it’s because after she left your parent’s house, she had to learn how to handle things by herself. That can be exhausting.” Matthew raises his eyebrow inquisitively as he gives his full attention to Eddie. “Especially when you feel like… it will all fall apart if you don’t have everything together.”
“What she doesn’t realize though is”, Steve continues. “She has way more control in and out of the bedroom than she thinks she does. Y/N has us wrapped around her finger.”
“Hey! You guys came.”, Avery clapped excitedly. “How was your shoot?”
The men across from you watched as your eyes fall to the floor.
“We wouldn’t know. We left right after Y/N did.”
“Oh? What took you so long to get here then?”, you ask.
Their eyes shift to Avery before turning to your brother.
“Hey Av. I’m sick of these whiskey whatevers. Take me to the bar and order me the best drink on the menu. My sister says you come here a lot so I trust your judgement.”
Your client grins as Matthew extends his elbow to him and the boy loops his arm through as they head to the counter.
“We had a conversation with Cass about this stunt she pulled. She won’t be doing it again.”
Your eyes flicked to Steve before looking down at the contents of your glass. “Yeah, because she seems extremely trustworthy…Why…why haven’t you guys mentioned her before? Or at least told me someone you dated was in the industry so I could look out for you guys.”
They frustratingly sigh, looking around the club before Steve heads down a hallway and Eddie takes your hand to follow. After turning into a nearby open door and locking it, they marvel at the room you three find yourself in.
It’s small with couches along the mirror lined walls. In the middle, a stripper pole welcomes anyone to use with a stereo in the corner for ambiance.
“Did…did we just walk into one of our movies?” Eddie’s eyes scan the room and you can’t help but laugh.
“I mean, the club is called Fantasy.”
Steve hastily guides you to one of the sofas, throwing you both down as he takes your hands in his. “Y/N, I swear we didn’t purposely hide her from you or anything like that. We thought Cassie was back in New York.” Your brows furrow together as Eddie throws himself down next to you.
“We met her on set a little after we moved here and had our little arrangement for about two months. She was the first person we tried it with and she was all for it. The last time we saw her she was spending the night at our place and the next morning she was gone. Left a note and everything.”
“Actually, a note would have been better. She placed a sticky note on Eddie’s phone that said something like ‘I can’t do this anymore. I’m going home.’ When we called her agency, they said she had flown back home to New York.”
“Did you have feelings for her?”
“Not like we do for you.”
You roll your eyes at Steve’s answer. “I’m not a child. Just answer my question and DON’T tell me it doesn’t matter!”, you turn to warn Eddie.
“It doesn’t! Do you know why? Because she left without so much as a fucking goodbye.”
“Like we were trash.” You sighed at Steve’s comment as his eyes squint in your direction. “Y/N, she’s not nor will she ever be better than you in anyway way shape or form.”
“Is that why your jealous? Jesus Christ.”, Eddie whines in annoyance. “That little snippet you witnessed? Not new for her. She could be aggressively bratty and not in a fun way.”
“Why did you stay with her then? I mean why did you even bother?”
“Because the sex was good.”, Steve cringed as he looked at you. “It was. Again, not as good as—”
“Okay, Mr. Harrington. Calm down. I don’t need you to keep stroking my ego.”, you interrupt with a small smile.
“I’m sure you understand with your own experiences. Not that I need my ego stroked but…”, he grins. Your smile grows as you look down at your hands. “Whoa, what was that?”
“What was what?”
“Wow, Munson. Look at her face. Did all your past sexual encounters suck?”
“So, a stripper pole in the middle of the room, huh? That’s so cliché.” As you start to slide off the couch, two strong hands grip your biceps and pull you back. They both beam down at you with big, amused yet admiration filled eyes. “I did say you had way more sexual experience than me.”
“Yeah but, I mean, had you ever even cum before?”
“I thought I had. I really did! Until I got in this business. Then I thought I was doing something wrong because I couldn’t…get there. Then…”, your eyes squeeze shut as you gesture your head towards Eddie.
“Oh, this is too good.”, the metalhead chuckles. “Talk about stroking the ego. Your first orgasm EVER was because of my fingers WHILE watching Steve get his shitty blow job.” You both make a face at him as he laughs harder. “Well, you’re welcome.”
The door to the room abruptly opens as a bouncer flies in. “Guys, these rooms aren’t ready yet. You have to get out. Come on now! Now!”
##############
“I will be coming back. Jesus, you always hug me like I’m going away forever.”
“It feels like it.”, you wrap your arms around your brother tighter as he chuckles.
Matthew points at the guys behind you. “Remember what I said, yeah?” They nod as he unhooks your arms from around his waist to look down at your face. “You to. Don’t let our parents live rent free in there, okay?” He points to your temple as you smile and respond with a tiny ok.
After revving his bike a few times, he delivers you one final wave before speeding off and disappearing over the hill.
“Are you ok?”, Steve asks as he hugs you from behind. When you nod, he suddenly lifts you in the air and throws you over his shoulder. “Good. Then the punishment can begin.”
“Daddy!”, you giggle as he carries you back inside. “What are you talking about?! I didn’t do anything!”
“Oh, really? I specifically remember you being a brat yesterday and then the cherry on top was you calling me Steven.”
“Fuck. But I apologized!”
He reached up and smacked your ass before flinging you onto the mattress. “Watch your mouth. So, Ed, what we thinking?” The man places his hands on his hips as he looks to his friend. “Do you want to do it?”
You watch them with eager eyes as they whisper to each other. Eddie grins as Steve leaves the room and removes his pants before falling on to the bed with his bare back to the headboard. “Come here, princess.” He pats the space between his legs and you kiss his cheek as you place yourself where he wants you.
The other man returns with a bowl but before you can peek at what’s inside the metalhead grips your chin, forcing you to look ahead. “Eyes forward.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His lips tenderly kiss the back of your head as he lifts your shirt and tosses it to the floor. “Do you want your hair up or down?”
“Oh, um. I don’t know, Sir. I don’t know what’s happening. What do you think?”
The boy glances at Steve who shrugs. “You can just keep it out of her face with your hand if you need to. Can you hold it up for me though while I put this on her?”
On instinct, you move your head to look towards him to see what they are putting on you but Eddie immediately pulls your chin, forcing your face forward. “If you move your head again, you won’t like the punishment that follows. Do you understand me?”
“Y-yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”
He loosens his grip as he holds your hair up in a makeshift ponytail. Something soft and velvet blinds you as they place it over your eyes.
“How’s that, honey? Can you see anything? Be honest.”
“No, Daddy. It feels really nice actually. Can I adjust it a little bit?” When he gives you permission, you reach up tug it down a bit more so it’s fully and comfortably resting on your face.
When lips gently meet yours, a little gasp escapes you. “Whoa.” You reach out with your hand to caress Steve’s face. “It’s so weird but in a good way. You…taste different. Stronger.” You feel his smile spread across his lips before reaching behind you blindly to find Eddie. “Can…Can I—”
His palm reaches for your cheek and guides your mouth to his own. You instantly taste nicotine but also the lingering savoriness that makes up the man you love amplified to an intoxicating degree.
“Ok. Hey, hey now. This is supposed to be a punishment.” Steve grabs your jaw and turns you away from the other man as you both try and catch your breath. “You got her, Munson?”, he chuckles.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got her. Fuck me.” Eddie’s arms looped around yours, bringing them behind your back as his heels slide over your ankles to hold them down.
“Alright, little one. The rules of this punishment are simple. Don’t make any noise or say a word. If you do…?” While Steve was speaking, the metalhead had shifted so your wrists were held with one hand as his other came back around to the front of your body. When his friend paused, his palm came down hard on your inner thigh. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy. I understand.”
“What do you think, bud? I’m thinking 15 min of silence.”
“Sounds good to me. Start over every time she fails.”
“Every time I fail. You both are so cocky, I swear.”, you giggle until you feel Eddie’s chest lean away from you and a firm hand slaps your cheek.
“You’re already failing, little girl.”, Steve whispers.
It feels like an eternity before any movement is made. The pads of the man’s fingers glide lightly along your legs and up your thighs, stopping right before he reaches you sex and repeating his actions.
“Now I know what you’re thinking, babe. This is punishment for the way you behaved at the shoot but it’s not.” The bed dipped in front of you and you bit your lip as you felt him trace along your tummy. His fingers trailed back down and you whined when his fingers skipped your pussy again.
A hand came down to slap your thigh and Steve chuckled. “I guess we’re starting over.”
He began caressing your skin again, purposely avoiding all the sensitive areas you wanted him to touch so desperately. “You are being punished because you, little one, don’t value yourself like you should.”
Steve’s hand rested on your cheek as you turned your head to press into it. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip and you silently kissed it, hearing him let out a small sigh of pleasure. “Honey, we love you so much. There is no other woman we would rather be with than you.” Tugging his palm away, he gradually slides down your body and you jump when his thumb pressed against your clit.
“You don’t need us to tell you how amazing you are and you shouldn’t allow bitches like Cassie Leigh or your bigoted parents make you feel less than.”
You tried to hold in your whine but he wasn’t moving his thumb fast or hard enough to get you where you needed to be. As soon as it left your mouth, Steve removed his hand and Eddie slapped between your legs making you cry out.
You felt the atmosphere shift and heard the sound of something being moved.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”, you shout as something cold and wet touches your calf.
That earned you two hard slaps on your thighs. “Watch. Your. Mouth.”, Eddie growled in your ear. You apologized and slowly came to realize that the cold, wet thing was ice. Your legs began to tremble as he brought the cube between your thighs. You so badly wanted him to touch you with it as your hips involuntarily started to grind.
“Oh, honey. So needy. This is the furthest you’ve gotten so far. 10 minutes left. Do you think you can make it?”
He guided the ice to your nipple, startling you but you managed not to make a sound.
“So beautiful, sweetheart.”
Switching to caress your other breast with the cube, Steve mouth enveloped your erect bud, swirling his tongue along your flesh. Your head fell back on Eddie’s shoulder as you stifled your moans.
“You want to try, Eddie?” The metalhead slides out from behind you as the other man grips your wrists and places your hands against the headboard above you as you fall to your back.
“I could handcuff you but I’m trusting you, okay? Do NOT move your hands from this spot.”
You nod, fearing that if you reply properly, they will restart the timer. “Good girl. I’m going to help keep that mouth quiet.”
Eddie reaches into the bowl on your nightstand and picks up where his friend left off while Steve places himself by your face and positions his cock by your mouth. “Open up, little miss.”
You do as your told and he hisses at the feeling as your lips wrap around him. His hand grips the side of your head, turning you so you can take more of his length as he does small thrusts with his hips.
As Eddie brings the ice down your stomach, you feel his tongue trail after liquid and it takes every fiber of your being not to moan.
“Good girl, baby. You’re doing so well. You have a couple more minutes. I’m, f-fuck, I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth, baby girl.”
While Steve picks up his pace, the metalhead rubs the cubed along your clit as he pushes two of his fingers into your entrance. The euphoria of feeling them finally touch you where you want is almost too much to handle and you know you want last long. You assume the ice in Eddie’s hand melts because the cold sensation is replaced by his warm tongue as he flicks at your nub.
Steve’s watch beeps and he groans as he pulls his cock out of your mouth.
“Sir, yes. Please, please, please! Daddy, can I cum?”
As soon as he gives you permission, your legs clamp around Eddie’s head as you stumble over the edge. He forcefully shoves your thighs against the mattress as his tongue rides you through it.
Eddie climbs your body, hurling the mask off your eyes, and pushing your legs wider apart with his knees before guiding his cock into your entrance. His motions are slow at first, pumping himself into you as deep as he can, gradually picking up his pace. You glance at Steve who was still beside you on his elbow as he watched your face contort in ecstasy.
“Can I—mmm—can I move my…hands, Daddy?”
“Yes, you can.”
Eddie mewled as you palms wrapped him and your nails dragged down his back.
“Harder, Sir. Please.”
His body fell against yours as he placed his head to the other side of your own. “Like this, baby?” He clings to you as his hips slam into yours, your eyes rolling back.
“Yes, Sir. Just like that. You feel so good.”
“Cum for me, princess. Please.” He whispers his last word so low you barely heard him, grunting as your pussy clenched around him. Eddie’s neck craned as he watched you come undone. “Good girl. That’s my sweet girl. Fuck.”
His hips faltered as he thrust his seed into your cunt. You tenderly ran your fingers through his hair as he panted against your neck.
“You ready for Daddy, baby?”
You nod, shakily crawling to him as he rises on to his knees, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so your back was against his chest.
Steve reached between you two, spitting into his hand as you moaned, feeling the tip of his hard cock press against you.
“Fuck, Daddy.”, you whimpered as he guided himself into your ass.
His fingers roughly pinched your cheeks, pushing your head back against his shoulder as he began pumping his hips.
“Just because the punishment ended—mmm—doesn’t mean you can curse. You…you didn’t do that with him. What makes…you think you can get away with it…with me, little girl? Hm?”
“I’m…I’m sorry, Daddy.” Your hands clung to his arms that were encircled around your waist as he thrust into you harder.
“Did his long, thick fingers and cock…make you fucking…fucking dumb?”
You cried out when you suddenly felt fingers between your legs, opening your eyes to see Eddie on his knees in front of you. His forehead fell on yours as he pushed two of his fingers inside of your entrance, matching Steve’s pace.
The other man closed his eyes, panting at the sound of your moans. “Cum, honey. Please. You sound so fucking beautiful. I need to hear it.”
He presses you tightly to him and your body shakes as you cum, lips attaching to his as his tongue mingles with yours. Steve’s grunts hit your face as he leans his nose to your cheek, his own body trembling as he releases inside of you.
“Please…”, you beg as you push at Eddie’s hand.
Steve grips your hips as he carefully lifts you off his lap before bringing you with him as he falls flat on the mattress on his side. The metalhead follows you both down, pushing some of your damp hair out of your face.
As he starts to get up, you quickly reach out to grab his arm. “Wait…Wait. Not yet.”
Eddie smiles as lays back down beside you. “Are you okay?” You nod, placing your hand on his cheek. “Ah, Ah, Ah. This is what I was afraid of. Wake up, sweetheart.”, he tuts as your eyes start to close.
A small, sleepy grin spreads along your face. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Steve snorts behind you as he laughs making your grin stretch further along your face.
“Such a pain in the ass. You’re lucky we love you.” Eddie kisses your forehead before heading towards the bathroom and turning on the shower. The other man groans as he rolls off the bed and lifts you into his arms, setting you down under the water.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Yes, you can sit down.”
“No, you goof.”, you playfully slap Eddie’s arm. “You guys said I’m the first girl you actually had a relationship with, right? So, you’ve never had a girl move in with you?”
Their actions slow as they listen, Steve freezing completely. “That’s right.”
“So, um, I know that when I sleepover or vice versa, we fall asleep together but at your house you both have your own room…”
The metalhead turns off the shower, drying himself before reaching for you and gently running the towel over your body. “Princess, you’re doing that thing again where you dance around the topic instead of asking what you actually want to ask.”
“I was just thinking… I mean…do you both need your own room?”
Steve throws on some boxers and reaches for a clean shirt to throw over your head. “I like falling asleep with you.”
“Me to.”, Eddie chimes in. “I was thinking…hypothetically… if you moved in with us, we could turn one of our rooms into like an office or something for you.”
“You do bring a lot of your work home. Not including us, of course.”
You giggle as you climb back into bed and they follow, your eyes shifting back and forth between them. “Okay.”
“Okay like ‘good to know’ or okay like ‘I want to move in with you guys?’”, Steve asked in a nervous tone.
“I’d like to move in. If…if you still want me to.”
“Fuck yes!”, Eddie shouts before clearing his throat. “I mean, yeah, of course we still want you to.”
“Matthew already threatened us to so you’re good to go.”
################
@gracieluvthemoon @e-munson666 @luna-munson83
@lunatictardis @corrodedcorpses @whoringtonmunswhore
@big-ope-vibes @eddiesguitarskills @brittney69 @mandyjo8719
@hugdealer @h3llo-k1tt @mynameismothra @local-stoner-bitch
@miarosso @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @arianafreckles
@sweetpuffy12 @mybradforddream @sugar-haus
@manda-panda-monium @e0509 @justsheerfilth1
@wroteclassicaly @micheledawn1975 @erinsingalong @imogen-m-h
@playfuloutcast @spookedbydawn @cinnamapup @bimbobaggins69
@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @skyesthebomb
@sherrylyn628 @eli-flower @aejae-ssi @atomiclilac
@anaibis @notasimp4joey @chelebelletx @kik51199
#steddie x reader#steddie fluff#steddie smut#steddie fanfiction#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie fanfic#eddie stranger things#steve fanfic#steve smut#steve stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#stranger things#fan fiction#steddie x you#steddie x y/n#steve fluff#daddy steve#sir Eddie#dom!steve harrington#dom!eddie#sub reader
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Arstotzka's Saint ♡
Christmas is a very cheerful holiday in the world, even the dystopian wasteland like Arstotzka needs to get festive when they can afford it.
While some citizens may love it for the cheap deals or free stuff. A small, bright ray of sunshine loves giving gifts more than anything during this winter season!
It was after work hours and Alexie had gotten his recent paperwork done faster than usual. He was just about to head back home when he was approached by his two co-worker's, Dimitri and Vonel.
"Hey, Alexie!" Dimitri called. "Do you want to join me and Vonel for dinner? I found this new place near Altan."
Alexie politely declined while he got on his boots. "Sorry, I can't. I got lots of work to do this week!" He smiled as he thought about his projects back home. Vonel then inquired; "What do you mean? You've been on track with work and, last I heard, you called off some of the border shifts this week."
Alexie answered with a smile. "Not that work, Von. I mean prepping things for the holidays! It's almost Christmas and I need to pick up the pace!"
"Ah, I see. Well, we wish you luck on whatever you're working on." Vonel replied. Alexie waved them goodbye as he ran back home. when he got back, Alexie dressed into his casual clothes but with a change of a leather apron and woodworking gloves. "Alright. I just got Inspector's family gifts, then I can get to wrapping!" He looked over at his paint-encrusted desk, which at the moment was occupied by his tool box and a pile of various wooden objects. His current work was a little wooden car, a gift for the inspector's son (who Alexie thought of as his own nephew.)
Alexie sat at the desk and began sanding down the car's wheels. he was careful to make them extra smooth so the kid wouldn't get splinters. When he was done with that it was onto painting. "Now, what color did he like again?" Alexie muttered to himself as he opened his drawer and brought out a notepad. He flipped the pages to a small list that contained bits of information about his friend's recent interests. he then spot the things he wrote down for Inspector's son, he liked toy cars, drawing, and the color blue.
"Ah, Perfect!" He beamed, putting his notepad back down and got a small paint bucket from his closet. Alexie was great at a lot of art forms but what he excelled in the most was painting. He's been working with such things since he was in high school and has always been sharpening his skills whenever he could. As he began to paint the toy, he couldn't help but grin, thinking about how happy the kid was going to be once he got this gift.
It was now Christmas Day, early in the morning and Alexie was especially excited. he had gotten all the gifts for his friends done the day before, each decorated beautifully and different so he wouldn't mix up any of them! Alexie got all of them into a red bag as he dressed up, ready to go spread some Christmas cheer!
First up were his two youthful friends, Elisa and Sergiu! Alexie knocked on their front door and awaited for an answer. when Elisa greeted him, she was surprised when he handed her two gifts for her and her lover. Elisa had gotten a cast-iron pan along with a set of handmade spatulas and ladles, Alexie choose this since she was getting into cooking lately. Sergiu was gifted a scarf and some gloves, both handmade by Alexie himself. it also came with a note that said; "Since I've always seen you cold during work, I wanted to help you bundle up with these!" Next up was Dimitri and Vonel. Since he knew they were probably out together, he dropped off his gifts in their mail and moved along. their gifts were some fancy wine glasses and a bottle of fine aged wine (which he got from Impor a few months back) to go with.
Now was time for the big delivery, Inspector's house! Alexie walked up to the front door and knocked a little loudly, as he could tell the house was noisy today. after a bit of waiting, Inspector answered joyfully. "Oh, Alexie! Didn't think you'd be here buddy!" The two embraced each other with a quick hug and pat on the back. Alexie then replied "Yeah, I'm just here to drop off a few things and I'll be heading on my way!"
Inspector welcomed his friend in, Alexie was greeted by many hugs and his excited little nephew. when everything settled, Alexie had finally shown what he was here for; the gifts he made. "Oh, Alexie, You didn't have to go through all this trouble!" Inspector's wife said sheepishly, Alexie reassured her while handing the gifts out to everyone. "It's not a big deal, besides I love to spread a little joy every now and then!"
The Inspector's son, Arseni, was opening his gift. he jumped with joy when he held the little blue car in his hands, he ran to his uncle and hugged his leg. "Thanks, Uncle Alexie! I love it!!" Alexie was glad that he enjoyed his gift, he gave the kid a pat on the head before Arseni left to the living room to play with his new toy. Inspector then asked; "Do you want to join me and my family for dinner? we made a lot of food thanks to the new holiday bonus." Alexie, after a bit of consideration, decided to stay for a little while.
When the clock hit 7, Alexie was off again. He ran to his next destination as he had lost track at time with the Inspector. He needed to make one last stop at Calensk's place. He slipped and tripped many times but he finally got there with the gift still in perfect condition. he knocked lazily, a bit out of breath from all the traveling he did around the streets today. Calensk wasn't the one to answer the door, instead it was a man who looked similar to his friend. Alexie looked up as the man asked, filled with confusion; "Uhh.. Do you need anything?"
Right. Alexie forgot that Calensk was living with his brother. He answered as he straightened his back. "Oh, I'm here for Calensk, I believe he lives here?" The man responded. "Oh, Hang on, I'll go call him for you."
He ran back inside and yelled. "HEY CAL! YOU GOT A GUEST!!" Alexie could hear the annoyed shout back; "STOP FUCKIN' YELLING, DOMINIK, I CAN HEAR YOU JUST FINE!" Alexie was a bit startled when Dominik suddenly poked his head back out the door. "He should be heading down now."
Soon enough, Calensk had answered the door. "Oh, Alexie. Sorry about that, my brother seems to not care for indoor voices." Alexie waved away his apology. "Don't worry about it! besides," Alexie paused as he took the gift out of his bag. "-I got you a little something!" Calensk, like everyone else Alexie had gotten a gift for, was pleasantly surprised. He opened his gift to see that it was a toolbox, colored a dull teal, inside was screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers and many other hardware. Alexie then spoke up, turning his gaze as he got a bit bashful. "I-I know that you've been working on that car project of yours for a while now, so I wanted to give you something to help you out, even just a little.."
Calensk was admiring them, he knew only Alexie would come up with something so thoughtful. He looked up at his boss while shutting the toolbox, giving a small smile. "Thank you Alexie. This means a lot to me." Alexie nodded and was about to leave until Calensk took his hand. "Wait- You're not too busy this evening, are you?" The kind man thought for a moment before answering; "No, I was just gonna head home for the day. Was there anything you needed?"
Calensk shook his head. "No, I just was wondering if you'd like to stay for the night." Alexie took a moment to process his request, then his face got red. "Oh! Well, I uh, could spend the night here, I-If that's what you want." Cal smiled again, he always loved how flustered he gets. "Then come on in, I'll get us some drinks." The two walked inside as snowflakes began to fall outside. today was truly Alexie's best Christmas yet. ♡
Writers Note ♡◇♡
This was meant to be written and uploaded on Christmas but things didn't work out, tried New Years and I was still late. But hey, better late than never right?
I wanted to try something new with this one, went easier on myself with timing, tried to make it more clear who was talking and overall just tried to make it shorter since I seemed to be hard on myself with how long a fic could be, I'll test this out more often so hopefully I can get more done with my project (no promises)
Thank u all 4 supporting me through 2023 btw!! Hope y'all stick around for this year as well!! I'll cya later!
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Clint/Laura/Natasha Masterlist
all of himself that is good (ao3) - shellybelle
T, 33k
Summary: "You're all grown up," Tony tells him. "You've got a wife, and kids. Why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"
Clint is a father first. But not all family is flesh and blood.
all this comes back to me, then goes again (ao3) - andibeth82
T, 38k
Summary: Here’s the thing about Laura Barton: Everyone assumes she met Clint first. After all, he had a farm, and he had kids, and he had a life that seemed like it came well before Natasha Romanoff and the Avengers.
Here’s the thing about Laura Barton: The real truth is that she fell in love with Natasha Romanoff first.
and as to me, i know nothing else but miracles (ao3) - andibeth82
T, 10k
Summary: Soulmark aside, she’d long accepted the fact she’d become attracted to Clint in a way that transcended him just being a comfort and a best friend, though other than casual cuddling and playful banter, they’d never done anything to push those boundaries. But while Natasha may have spent a lifetime breaking up relationships in every way, she knows that this is different, and that she loves Clint and Laura too much to try to get in the middle of that relationship.
Asphodel (ao3) - Sanctuaria
T, 38k
Summary: Post-Endgame.
After sacrificing herself on Vormir, Natasha wakes up in a strange world of perpetual orange twilight.
Of course, she's not the only one stuck there.
for the half of ourselves we have lost (ao3) - andibeth82
M, 179k
Summary: Natasha says, "No matter what happens, this family will always be the one thing we have. We’ve all put each other through too much shit to let anything come between us.”
Clint says, “You know what it means to owe a debt, Nat.”
[a family picking up the pieces, before and after the war]
From Feral Beginnings to Found Family (ao3) - breatheforeverypart
M, 75k
Summary: Welcome to the Barton Farm! The house is under construction. Clint is often away on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions. Laura's working part time, while caring for their one year old daughter, Lila. Add a half-feral ex-Red Room agent and an emergency foster placement to the mix and any ties to a normal family are severed.
What is their new normal? Could it be that the ensuing chaos will forge a found family that can withstand anything life throws their way?
Home’s not home without Auntie Nat (ao3) - PanicMoon15
G, 5k
Summary: Wanda's mind control had a bad effect on Natasha, but Clint's there to help. He brings her home to Laura and the kids with the rest of the Avengers, only to realise it may be his daughter who can be the one to make Auntie Nat feel better.
Auntie Nat needs cuddles. The Barton family is there to provide them.
i love only that which they defend (ao3) - andibeth82
M, 46k
Summary: She finds that she laughs more with Natasha, almost as much as she does with Clint, but for different reasons. Clint had his huge heart and his stupid jokes and easygoing demeanor that Laura had always been attracted to, his perpetually messed up hair and klutzy manner that caused him to drop a slice of pizza on the floor or spill coffee on the couch -- all of the things that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
Natasha, for all that she was stoic and rigid and carved out of knives and battle scars, was warm in a way that Laura couldn’t quite describe, as if she was a perfect fit for the missing piece Laura had always been looking for in both a friend and a partner.
My Soulmate's Soulmate (ao3) - solrosan
G, 3k
Summary: Clint married a woman with two names on her wrist – his, and one written with Russian letters.
nor need we power or splendor (ao3) - shellybelle
M, 242k
Summary: She hadn’t been sure, at the time, what had finally driven her away from the training center, brought her to book a flight to Waterloo and rent a car for the drive out out to the farm. But when she had packed a bag and headed to the nearest airport, it hadn’t been her apartment in New York or her condo in DC or her London townhouse or any number of hidden bolt-holes she kept around the world that she’d flown to, but a creaking, busy farmhouse in Iowa. (Or: It's been a long journey to get to where they are, and it'll be an even longer journey home.)
Out of Darkness there is Light (ao3) - Rouko
E, 66k
Summary: Loki, battered adopted son of Odin is captured by the Avengers and resigns himself to whatever punishment awaits him on return to the realm he once thought was his home. Enter an insomniac billionaire that sees something no one else does. Can his sharp wit and lethal tongue save the God of Mischief from a fate he doesn't deserve?
If he can save him, what then? Is he still an enemy or could he be turned to the side of good? Can a snarky God known for his silvertongue and lies really be trusted to become an ally to Earth? Tony Stark is going to find out.
ThIs fic takes place immediately after the Avengers Assemble movie and Iron Man 1 & 2. COMPLETE!
She's My Cherry Pie (ao3) - sheis-theslayer (Perididdle)
E, 3k
Summary: If Laura Barton has said it once, she has said it a thousand times: no one touches the food while she's cooking. Especially if it's her pies.
But Natasha Romanoff never listens.
the growing season (ao3) - sweetwatersong
G, 6k
Summary: Three summers Natasha spends at the farmhouse and two she spends at home.
the landslide will bring it down (ao3) - smallblueandloud
T, 10k
Summary: Lila is crying, taking big gulps of air in between her words. She’s scared. In the background, there’s a baby crying, but Natasha barely registers it.
“Mama and Daddy just- they just- Mama Tasha, I can’t find them.” In her mind’s eye, Natasha can see her: a scared eleven year old girl, with her hair in braids, clutching the landline. “Cooper disappeared in front of me. It’s just me and Nathaniel, and I don’t know what to do. Mama-”
(or, natasha's spouses and eldest child dissolve into ash - and she is left to pick up the pieces)
til the clocks run down (ao3) - andibeth82
M, 257k
Summary: "I think I do love her."
The words don’t shock her -- not really, not when she lets herself think about it. She does believe that Clint hadn't been sure about how deep his feelings for Natasha went the first time he admitted his attraction to her. But Laura would have been a fool to believe there wasn’t something more developing, especially after being around them in the few times they’d visited together since Clint’s confession. It had been easy to tell how their partnership was becoming comfortable, a relationship as worn and cozy as the one Laura’s built for herself with the man she’s loved for almost eight years.
[the beginning, the middle, and the journey home]
#themculibrary#mcu#marvel#clint barton#laura barton#natasha romanoff#polyamory#polyamory masterlist#masterlists#f/f/m
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youtube
Soft Boy - Weasley Twins imagine
Summary: Being the Slytherin best friend of the infamous Weasley twins is stressful, especially when no-one else in their family likes you.
Warnings: A bit of angst, Hermione being a little gossiper
*Use of y/n*
*reader is gender neutral*
To y/n, the Weasleys felt like home. Of course they did, they'd been going there for the holidays since first year. Except now there were more kids in the house, kids who didn't like Slytherins.
That's right, y/n was a Slytherin, and an outcast. They had almost no friends beside Fred, George and Lee Jordan. And now that the 'Chosen One' had joined them at the Burrow for the holidays, the sanctuary they'd felt disappeared almost instantly.
Ron knew them, and Ginny did too, but to Harry and Hermione, it was a shock to meet a Slytherin upon their arrival at the Burrow. Those two were like the extra son and daughter Molly Weasley never needed but welcomed with open arms and warm smiles.
---------------
"Harry, Hermione, this is y/n," Ron said with a half-hearted shrug in y/n's direction, "they're a friend of Fred and George."
"It's nice to meet you."
Y/n offered a hand in greeting, but neither took it, so it eventually dropped to their side. Hermione stared. Harry tried to say something, but failed. And Fred had to disperse the tension with a casual wave and squeezy side hug in Harry's direction.
"Are you a Slytherin?" blurted Hermione suddenly, "I mean, Ron told me on the way here, but I didn't quite believe it until now."
"Mione-" Ron tried to intervene before it got more awkward than it already was.
"I..." Fred looked at y/n out of the corner of his eye, watching their face crumple slightly from the sudden confrontation.
"Cos I heard there was one Slytherin who was different to all the rest, but I wasn't sure who it was. Who're your parents?" Hermione pressed.
"My mum's a muggle, and my dad works for Twilfitt and Tattings," they murmured softly, "They don't get along well. I... don't live with either of them."
"Oh, well, I heard there was a Slytherin close to some of us who was telling Voldemort where we were," Hermione sniffed, not noticing y/n's shocked look, "And I guess not having supportive parents is reason enough to find your own. So, what are you going to tell him now? Apologise for being found out already, I suppose. And then what? Try and kill us?"
It was at that moment that George appeared in the room as if by magic, apparently tuned in to his best friend's emotions and stress levels. He practically scooped y/n off their feet and flew them up to his and Fred's room, plopping them unceremoniously on his bed with a huff.
They could hear Hermione's outraged snapping mixed with Ron's doomed attempt to get her to say sorry slowly dying as Fred also entered and placed a silencing charm on the walls.
"You ok?" he asked, crouching to their level.
y/n shook their head slowly, eyes down, but didn't say anything.
"I didn't... I would never..." they muttered slowly.
"We know. Hermione just doesn't trust you yet. She's probably not used to being in the presence of THE COOLEST person ever," George said, placing a hand on their shoulder.
They nodded and chuckled softly. Then they looked up and the twins could see the tears brimming in their eyes like glitter rain.
"I should probably get some water," they sighed.
George reached up and wiped their eyes before holding out a hand so they could stand up. He walked them down the stairs, past Hermione and her judgemental glares, and into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
"Oh look, they needs a little escort to feel good about themselves," Hermione sneered.
"Nahhh I'm just keeping them from casting the killing curse or something," George said with a devilish smile.
"Ooooh look out Granger~" y/n giggled, finally feeling better after some water, "I might just cast the new hex Ginny taught me. You know, the Bat Bogey Hex!"
The two friends snickered, alerting Fred to their mischief-making. He rushed into the kitchen to see Hermione's ghost-pale face and burst into open-mouthed laughter that seemed to fill the space.
"I don't know what you said, but good job," he wheezed between chortles, "She looks like a dementor sucked out her soul!"
---------------
I'm looking for a window to another world,
where I don't feel as lost and bored
I just don't wanna be a soft boy anymore,
I wanna be yours.
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(Kanade x Reader)
You wanted to spend time more with Kanade, but not in her usually comfortable way of you chilling in her room while she works overtime on her music. You decided that you wanted to share what you liked with Kanade to start to get to know each other better, thus you showed her a cartoon you liked.
Next day, she’s already obsessed with your cartoon, so much so that she turned into the little girl she was long ago. So adorable. You should get her a juice box.
TLDR: Kanade goes fangirl on a cartoon
{Kanade fangirling for reader's favorite cartoon!} [P]
Believe it or not, Kanade was the one who asked about your favorite cartoons! After months of you visiting and coming over to her house every other day, she realized that she never got to ask much about your casual life...
This was a question she asked when she didn't have a clue about what were the appropriate questions to get to know someone, and as such it wasn't really planned at all!
You couldn't hide your excitement at being asked that, as you didn't have many chances to show the sheltered girl something new! You immediately put on the TV and showed her the first couple episodes before she knew what was happening!
You couldn't help but chuckle at how invested and interested she became with every passing minute! It was honestly quite endearing, and you wanted to hug her like a little kid! You resisted though, as she disliked sudden, strong physical contact...
So you instead patted her head, breaking the immersion and bringing an intense blush to her face! You chuckled again, pointing out how adorable she looked while watching the show, and she just freezes.
She was really enjoying it, wasn't she...? Sadly, you have to leave, but not before jokingly teasing her with the promise to bring a plushie of the main character!
You didn't expect the show to actually stick with her, so much that the following day she was asking you all about it, about spinoffs, content, fanbases, even the plushie you promised! Now you were free to laugh without her knowledge!
She stared at her cellphone, eagerly awaiting the answers as she couldn't stop thinking about the few episodes she just saw! It was incredibly unnatural for her to be interested in something else other than music! (Not that she didn't absolutely love the cartoon's music...)
As you answered each of her questions, you used the chance to sneak in some comments about her childish fangirling state, to which she responds almost a minute or two after blushing and panicking so hard she almost drops the phone.
However, you also make sure to send her messages to comfort her and convince her that this isn't bad! That it's normal, and that she should enjoy her new hobby and relaxation method! An overworking bean like her would benefit a lot from it...
"Oh... Oh no, has it gotten this bad? No no, it's not really bad, is it? It's a distraction... One that the others had recommended to me since long ago... Maybe this is the opportunity I've been seeking..."
It doesn't take long for her to accommodate her new fascination, as she mixes it in when her work is slowing down! No matter if it is because of her energy, imagination or just low amounts of work, it manages to lighten up her life a lot!
Now she will excitedly discuss with you everything that she learns, episode after episode, as you come over and realize just how much she loves it... Perhaps you should get to buying that plushie soon...
#project sekai#project sekai imagines#project sekai headcanons#project sekai x reader#prsk#prsk x reader#pjsekai#pjsekai x reader#pjsk#pjsk x reader#yoisaki kanade#kanade yoisaki x reader#kanade yoisaki#yoisaki kanade x reader#/cawcanons
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Can I ask your opinion on a few things about Gojo and Geto :
- So is he (Gojo) really not feel anything with Amanai and Haibara's death?
- How can Gojo not realizing Geto's depression (is it because he always sent on solo missions)?
- I read somewhere that Geto's act to kill all the villagers is because Yuki's words (as if to blame her), and I was like wtf (?)
-If Geto not become a curse user, can he become a sorcerer like Yuki (just do whatever they want and not listening to the elders)?
- Do you think adult Geto can win against Toji?
Thanks if you want to answer....
*claps hands together* Let's do this!
Oh this is hard. I don't think he didn't feel anything, more like he didn't allow himself to feel it deeply. See, Gojo has been in this jujutsu business since birth, he knows the ups and downs of being a jujutsu sorcerer, he knows these things would happen. If you had noticed, even Megumi or anyone who is born in a jjk clan is like that. They know this is how the jjk world works, and that's why guys like Geto and Yuuji fall down because they care too much and they want to save everyone, which is not possible.
Hmm well Gojo not noticing Geto's spiral is not that big of surprise to me because even he was a 17 year old kid who went through something traumatizing. People tend to forget that even Gojo was severely traumatized from Toji. I have a lot of things to say about this but for now I just think Gojo was too engrossed in becoming stronger and stronger to notice anyone actually.
If you blame Yuki for Geto's downfall I think you should drop jjk actually lol. She was just having a casual one on one with Geto, nothing she said would have made Geto the worst curse user in history; to be honest Geto was doomed from the very start. BUT that being said, the thing that pissed me off is Yuki telling Geto that they would find a new Star Plasma Vessel to replace Riko, because we clearly know that did not happen, so why even say that?
Geto becoming a sorcerer like Yuki is like mixing oil with water. The thing about Geto is he likes protecting, he likes being needed, he likes saving people, he really can't do nothing like Yuki when they require sorcerers for a mission.
Depends if we are talking about Toji Fushiguro or Toji Zenin, because if we are talking about Toji Zenin, then amen to my boy Geto. In Geto's defense, Toji Zenin can literally take out all of the special grades except Gojo but if we are talking about Toji Fushiguro, then Geto has a fighting chance. Ngl this is why I fucking love jjk so much, you really can't predict who wins because the power systems are different for every individual.
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(Context)
"Get- off of me!" Lily grits her teeth, trying to kick the man's long arm. Unfortunately, it doesn't exactly work, considering how easily he was pinning her down.
"You're the ones who gave Rose so much trouble?" the man cackles. "Then how come I'm holding you down and him up so easily?"
It was true. A strange, oily, and inky black substance covered parts of the man's body. A majority of it was on his arms, which he was using to hold down Lily and hold Lil Coding up in the air.
The duo glance at each other before glancing back at the man. Lily opens her mouth to vocalize, while Lil Coding begins to summon his spear, but neither get very far, especially when Lily begins to cough and hack.
"Lily?!" Lil Coding exclaims, worry and confusion taking over him. He struggles more in the grip of the strange man, watching as he lets go of Lily. But his friend only gets to her knees, grasping at her throat as she continues to cough.
"What did you do?!" the Code demands.
The man only grins. "How do you think the ink could've gotten into her?"
Lil Coding stops to think before realization strikes him.
"Why did you say that like it was a completely normal thing to say?" Lily snorted as she took her milkshake from the counter.
Lil Coding grinned as he took his and sipped from it. "Because it's normal for me to say!"
"I wonder who you get your stupidity from." Lily teased with a grin as she sipped from her milkshake, and the duo exited the shop.
"Oi!"
Horror dawned on Lil Coding as he realized his predicament as well. The man dropped the Code as he also began to cough.
"It was a pain in the ass trying to figure out a mix that would work on you and not end up killing your friend other there." the man glances over at Lily, who was also coughing still, but the black liquid that was on his body was beginning to drip from her mouth. "I mean, come on kid, couldn't you have been human?"
"What.. d-do you want with us..?" Lil Coding demands weakly, and it feels like his mind is escaping him.
The man grins. "I need some little helpers back at Omnia Academy. Nothing too big, yknow, just kidnapping students to experiment on and then help with the experimenting. And so why not the kids that gave my friend and business partner such a hard time!"
The man then pauses. "Speaking of which, where is that lady? Haven't heard from her in a damn while."
"Burning.. in hell.." Lil Coding spat, though the black liquid began to spill from his mouth.
"Not surprising!" the man laughed. "But man, she owes me money now. Maybe I'll get it from her when my lab ends up exploding at some point. Or when I get found out. Whatevers first, yknow?"
Lil Coding had no clue how the man was able to joke and act like a casual friend at a time like this. He glances over at Lily, and his heart stops.
The strange substance had covered most of her body and seemed to lose its oily and inky appearance. Now, she looked like a purple and blue shadowy version of herself.
"If people saw a weird, inky and oily looking child, it'd draw attention, kid." the man snorts, as if it's obvious.
"Go to hell.." Lil Coding sneers, and he feels his mind slipping from him as the substance begins to overtake him as well. He can feel it cutting off several of his communication functions.
"I've got several reservations, kid." the man grins.
○●○
"Yeah, it's just really weird. Apparently, Mr. Damian has some new assistants for his Experiment Club. And everyone knows it's true because there's some more supplies in there and it's a lot cleaner, but no one has seen them!"
"Eh, you know how much a nut job that dude is. Maybe they're just clones or something."
"Oh that'd be horrifying and also would make a great movie."
"I am not going down there with you, Ben!"
"Come on, Mark!"
Damian snorts to himself as he shuts the door to the club room. He walks over behind his little area and opens a trapdoor, going through it and shutting it behind himself.
He descends down the ladder before letting the same strange substance from before appear on his body again. It was absolutely exhausting keeping up this human form, but in the end, it was worth it.
He walks into the lab he was somehow able to build underneath the academy. He was still surprised that he managed to con his way into getting the headmaster to agree to it.
He exhales and runs his hand through his black hair. In his pursuit to make sure he'd be able to live for an eternity, he'd turned to experimenting on the people of this strange little world. It was risky, especially with the Admins, the Anamoly, and all that, but he'd found ways to make it work.
For now, his best bet seemed to be meme energy, but since it was too pure for a virus like him, he needed to find a way to corrupt it.
He grins and looks over to a table, where a shadow-like Lily and shadow-like Lil Coding were preparing tools for his next experiments.
One of the many things he liked about being a virus. The ability to infect others. It was a damn doozy, though, trying to make sure it'd be able to get past the Code's antivirus and not kill the human girl.
But he had managed to do it. And now?
Damian had all the time in the world to pursue his eternity.
#virus: damian/re:eternity#code: lil coding#oc: lily#!posts!#fanfiction: my writing!#thjs nightmare was really fucked up to like see and experience like omg.. i purposely left some stuff out just because#like i saw the transformation process. it. it wasnt pretty#in regards to eternity
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Uncharted
They say things never turn out the way you expect and Reva has made it her mission to go and teach me just that. I didn't want to ship her with Dante, @the-al-chemist didn't want to ship Dante with Reva, but as always, these obnoxious kids have their own ideas - and thank goodness they do because they have been my most favourite comfort place ever since ❤️💚
A/N: Dante Lopez (Briarwood) belongs to my fantabulous best friend that is @the-al-chemist.
The evening had been a busy one for Dante Lopez, only employee and owner of the Hog’s Head Inn. Between collecting old drinks, mixing new ones, and listening to his punters' woes and worries, Dante didn’t get so much as a moment to breathe for the better part of his work day. When closing time was drawing near, the chipped brass bell hanging next to the old mirror front running the length of the bar chimed. As it announced the last round with a deep, ringing voice, a murmur went through the guests and several people stood up to place their orders.
The small, dark-haired woman sitting by the side of the bar by herself watched as Dante flashed each of his guests a charming smile before he set to work, mixing the most exoctic ingredients and spirits into mismatched old jam glasses. She leisurely swirled the remainders of the drink in her own glass. The ice cubes inside clinked softly against each other, sending the scent of peaches up to her nose.
Between decorating a cocktail with an artfully carved slice of orange peel and pouring the ingredients for another one into a shaker, Dante’s eyes wandered over to her. His gaze dropping to her glass, he cocked an eyebrow with an unspoken question and the woman gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. Dante returned his attention to his cocktail shaker and she busied herself with watching the spacious pinboard with postcards and pictures hanging behind him. A smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her eyes settled on the ones most familiar to her.
She was still nursing her glass when the door fell shut behind the last of the punters. With a sigh, Dante flung the towel he’d been using to wipe the countertop over his shoulder and made his way over to her.
“Is my new drink so awful that you’re still not finished with it?” he asked, casually resting his arms on the counter.
“Aren’t you supposed to savour a good drink?
Dante raised his eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done to Reva Amari?”
“I’m just heeding the advice of someone a lot older and wiser than me,” Reva Amari, the woman in question, chuckled as she took another sip of her drink.
“I’m not that much older than you.”
“But a lot wiser.”
“Debatable.”
“Not really.”
“I guess not, no,” Dante grinned. “But you can’t tell me that drink is still cold. You’ve had it for what now, an hour?”
“I like how it keeps refilling itself,” Reva said and held up her drink for Dante to see; the ice cubes had melted and filled up parts of the glass again. She giggled when she saw the horrified look on his face.
“There’s so many things wrong with what you’ve just said.” Shaking his head, he took the glass with the now lukewarm drink from her hands. “How about a new one?”
“I thought the last round’s over?”
Dante helped himself to two new glasses and began mixing the drinks. “I might just make an exception, I’m on good terms with the boss. And you still owe me a story.”
“That’s true,” Reva smiled and watched as he began cutting up white peaches. “Where did we stop last time?”
“I think it was the totally made-up story about you, your skateboard and the Sphinx of Giza.”
“Ah, you mean the totally not-made-up story of the best grind of my life,” Reva nodded knowingly. She leaned over the countertop, snatching a slice of peach from the cutting board and popping it into her mouth.
“This story is so not true.”
“Do you want to hear it or not?”
“I absolutely do,” Dante said and handed Reva a fresh drink smelling of peaches and rosemary.
They moved from the bar to a table next to the fireplace with their drinks. Reva welcomed the opportunity to delve back into the memories of her time spent travelling with someone who knew what she was talking about; many of the places she’d been to Dante had seen for himself, and then some more.
“I can’t believe you got yourself arrested,” she called out and covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing; Dante had a knack for telling stories and Reva’s cheeks were hurting from the many times he had made her laugh over the course of the evening. “What’s Colombian jail like?”
“Crowded,” Dante shrugged. “Nice people, though. They offered to get me a new tattoo. Had I asked nicely, they’d even sterilised the needle.”
Reva bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. “What did you even do?”
“That,” Dante said with a mysterious smile, “will remain my secret.”
“I won’t tell, I promise.”
That made Dante laugh out loud. “Over my cold, dead body.”
“Rude. And people say you’re a gentleman.”
Dante put a hand over his heart with a hurt expression. “How can you? I am the perfect gentleman.”
“How come I haven’t seen much of it then?”
“Who’s the rude one now?” he smirked. “There’s better things in Colombia to see, in any case. Not like you would know, you passed up on more than half of the places I told you to see. I can’t believe you missed Caño Cristales.”
“And I can’t believe you went to jail. What for, did you say?”
“Tell you what, you come and visit Caño Cristales with me and I might just tell you how easy it is to get arrested in Colombia.”
Reva leaned forward, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “Are we gonna do something that might get us arrested? Just kidding,” she added quickly when Dante’s eyebrows shot upwards.
“I’m not so sure you are.”
“You’ll have to wait and find out then, won’t you?”
Her eyes fell on the clock hanging above the wall and she sighed in dismay; it was way past two in the morning already. She noticed that Dante, who had followed her gaze, had to stifle a yawn, so she emptied her drink with one big swig and got to her feet.
“Sorry for keeping you up. Time to get home.”
Dante stood up as well, making an apologetic face. “I really didn’t mean to…”
“No, it’s fine,” Reva cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I have practice tomorrow anyway.”
“You don’t really look like you’re in the state to throw a Quaffle,” Dante said doubtfully.
“I don’t look like I’m in the state to throw a Quaffle now,” Reva pointed out. “Don’t worry about me. A bit of sleep and maybe a Wideye Potion and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.”
She let go of the back of her chair but as soon as she took the first step, Reva suddenly found herself swaying, holding onto the first thing within her reach to steady herself; when she realised that it was Dante’s arm, she quickly let go.
“Are you okay?” Dante wanted to know. “Talk about throwing a Quaffle, I don’t think you’re fit to Apparate.”
“Rubbish,” Reva said and wrinkled her nose. She did feel unsteady but she’d rather hex her tongue out than admit it. “I’m totally fine, see?”
She concentrated on a spot on the other side of the room, trying not to let the flickering shadows coming from the fireplace or the heavy scent of rosemary still lingering in the air distract her. With a crack that was louder than usual she disappeared, but instead of by the bar, Reva suddenly found herself standing on top of the table next to it.
“Feet off the table,” Dante called out as he walked across the room to her. “So much for safe Apparating.”
“What are you talking about? This is exactly where I wanted to go.”
“Clearly,” Dante said and offered her a hand.
“Just so you know, I don’t need that,” Reva declared but accepted Dante’s help anyway.
Feeling a lot more steady with his support, she half jumped, half stumbled off the table. When her feet hit the ground she staggered, Dante’s other hand reaching for her shoulder to not let her fall. Feeling the heat rising to her face, Reva quickly took a step back; Dante was smelling like the drinks they’d had and she suddenly felt more dizzy than she had before.
“You’re not Apparating anywhere tonight,” Dante declared firmly. “I wouldn’t want you to end up on the tower of Old and St Andrew’s Church by accident. Let’s get you a room ready. This used to be a pub, after all.”
He got his wand out and began levitating the chairs onto the tables. Reva sat by the bar and watched the floating jam jars covering themselves in dishwater while Dante was closing the bar for the night. She hadn’t even realised that she’d drunk too much; she didn’t feel that drunk, to be honest, but it wasn’t like her to be so clumsy either. Maybe staying in a spare room wouldn’t be the worst idea; Dante was her friend, and there was nothing wrong with crashing at a friend’s place, after all.
When he was done, Dante led her through a door by the side of the bar and up a steep flight of steps. He was walking behind her, making sure she wouldn’t stumble, and Reva did her best to not do so. Knowing he was so close behind her made her spine tingly and she was oddly relieved when they reached the upper floor.
“You can sleep here,” Dante said and opened the door right next to the landing. “The bathroom’s over there and there’s my room if you need anything.”
He pointed at a door at the end of the hallway. Several big plants in colourful pots were standing next to it and Reva watched Dante diligently checking the soil as he walked past them. As if sensing her attention on him, he raised his eyes to meet hers across the hallway with a smile.
“Have a good night, then.”
Reva blinked, coming back to her senses. “Uhm, yeah. Sure. Good night. And thanks.”
She entered the guest room, took off her shoes and jeans and got into bed. But even though she was knackered, sleep refused to come. Reva usually had no qualms falling asleep in any place at any given time, but this time she couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness that had befallen her.
After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Reva was on the point of dozing off when she suddenly thought to hear the soft sound of a guitar. She sat up in her bed and listened more closely - there definitely was music playing somewhere.
Getting up and back into her clothes, Reva left her room, quietly closing the door behind her. The hallway was dark, but there was a strip of light shining from beneath Dante’s door. Reva hesitated and then shrugged to herself; if both of them were awake, they might as well be awake together.
She walked over to Dante’s room and knocked softly. The moment she did so, she felt stupid for bothering him but now it was too late to turn back. When Dante opened the door, he looked surprised to see her; he had exchanged his clothes for sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt above the collar of which his golden St. Christopher necklace was showing. Much to Reva’s astonishment, he was carrying a watering can.
“Is everything alright?” he asked with a concerned frown.
“Yes,” she quickly nodded. Suddenly not knowing what to do with her hands, Reva crossed her arms in front of her chest as if she was cold. “I wanted to see where the music was coming from.”
An apologetic look formed on Dante’s face. He glanced at an old-fashioned looking record player in the corner of his room. “Sorry if it was too loud, I’m not used to having guests. I can turn it down if you like.”
“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
“Okay, cool,” Dante replied and then added, “Do you want to come in, or something?” He was smiling but it wasn’t the easy smile Reva was familiar with; if she didn’t know any better she’d have said that Dante was looking nervous.
Stepping away from the door, he let her inside. Acutely aware that she was crossing into his personal space, Reva couldn’t help but cast a curious look around. The air in the room was warmer than in the rest of the building, and slightly damper, too. The reason for it was apparent: almost every available surface in the room - the shelves, the windowsills, even some spots on the floor - were covered in plants of all forms and sizes. There was a whole shelf devoted to succulents alone, from the top of which a purplish light was shining down on the many small plant pots. Her nerves subsiding, the corners of Reva’s mouth twitched.
“I remember you being fond of Herbology, but don’t you think that is a little over the top?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dante said matter-of-factly as he proceeded to water the plant right next to the door. “There’s no such thing as having too many plants.”
“There is when you feel like walking into a rainforest.”
“You sound as if you’d never seen one for yourself. Shall we add that to the list of ‘Things that Reva missed out on’?”
“I have been to a rainforest and this is just like it.”
“It’s no proper rainforest when there’s no plants on the ceiling,” Dante declared. He cast a pondering look up above. “Although now that you mention it…”
Laughing to himself at Reva’s incredulous expression, he walked past her to one of the open shelves to water the plants there as well. Not quite knowing what to do, Reva followed him. Standing next to him, she heard that Dante was softly humming along to the music
“What are you listening to?” she asked.
“You tell me. I found the record at a market in Colombia. It didn’t have a proper cover, just some colourful paper wrapped around it, but I like it anyway.”
“I bet in truth some bloke in jail sold it to you,” Reva muttered under her breath, making Dante laugh out loud.
“Busted. Best salsa dancer I’ve ever seen.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, I absolutely do.”
“Liar.” He set down the watering can and turned up the volume. “Want to see how the Colombian cons dance?”
Grinning, Reva took the hand Dante was offering her. She let him pull her closer, ignoring the same tingly feeling she’d had before as he placed his other hand on her waist. Reva’s best friend Zadie had shown her how to dance salsa once and suddenly Reva wished that she had paid more attention back then. More than once she stepped onto Dante’s foot but despite herself, Reva had to laugh as he commented on it.
“You’re an awful dancer,” Dante complained but he was smirking as he did so. His smile turned into a grimace as Reva stepped onto his foot again, this time not entirely out of accident.
“Maybe you’re just an awful teacher.”
“You’re not listening to anything I’m saying at all.”
“You have no idea how often I’ve heard that before,” Reva snickered and let Dante spin her around. It made her dizzy, but it was a different kind of dizzy. A good kind. “Maybe I just need more practice.”
“Another thing for the list then,” Dante smiled and pulled her closer again.
They continued to dance and as the music picked up in pace, so did they. Soon any pretence at dancing salsa was discarded and they were making up their own steps. Feeling more comfortable in her skin again, Reva sang along to the music while Dante was laughing at the terrible mix of Spanish words Reva knew and the ones she was making up to fill the gaps. Reva didn’t mind him laughing, however; she liked how Dante’s eyes were lighting up when he did.
After a particularly upbeat song, Dante let himself fall backwards onto his bed, breathing a little more heavily than before. Not having anywhere else to sit, Reva slumped down next to him, a wide smile still lingering on her face. Dante gave her a sideways glance.
“You’re a real handful, you know?”
“So they keep telling me.”
Dante’s bed was soft and very comfortable and suddenly Reva felt her tiredness catching up with her again. Not wanting to give in to it, she let her eyes travel over the collage of postcards hanging on the wall next to the bed. It was a miniature version of the one in the bar downstairs, and she smiled to herself when she discovered more of the postcards she had sent herself among them. The mattress shifted when Dante turned and propped himself up onto his elbow.
“Are you as tired as I am?”
Reva only hummed in response, her eyes still trailing over the colourful pictures. She sucked in her breath and held it when Dante leaned over her to reach for his wand lying on the nightstand. He pointed it at the record player and the music changed.
The soft, soothing sound of a single acoustic guitar was now drifting through the room. Dante made to move back but then, after a moment’s hesitation, he didn’t. His hand came to rest on Reva’s waist, like it had done when they had been dancing. For a split second Reva tensed, the fluttery feeling in her stomach flaring up even stronger than before, but then she relaxed. She could feel the warmth of Dante’s body close to hers and she shifted her weight to lean against him, resting her head against his shoulder.
They stayed like this for a while and with every passing second the restlessness within Reva was subsiding. She was drawing lazy patterns on Dante’s arm, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tapping on her waist to the slow beat of the music.
Still not wanting to fall asleep, Reva focused on the melody, wondering if this might be Dante himself playing or if it was another souvenir from South America. She turned her head to ask him about it and had to suppress a soft chuckle at what she saw. Dante’s breathing had deepened and the tapping of his fingers stopped; he was fast asleep.
Reva took a moment to study his face, so close to hers that their noses were almost touching. Her eyes wandered over his black hair, almost as unruly as her own, his long eyelashes and the soft dusting of freckles covering his tanned skin. She raised her hand to brush her fingers over this cheek but then decided to let him sleep; she’d kept him awake for long enough.
Careful not to wake him, Reva snuggled closer against him, feeling Dante’s steady heartbeat beneath the palm of her hand. Smiling to herself, she slowly drifted off to sleep. If this was a new adventure she liked where it was going so far. It was uncharted territory, but she’d always been one to explore. Both of them were.
It was just another thing to add onto their list.
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last EP for Max
I. You Know You're Right…
Oh, let me tell you about my friend Max. (This is a terrible and trite way to start, and I'll make it worse by critiquing it. Just go-)
Before I start waxing poetic, I need to write down and solidify it -- Max died last weekend. Got a terse copy-paste message from Morrie late on Sunday while having a slightly hazy soak and was unprepared to respond or process, though I think it'd have been the same either way -- I drained the tub and hoped it was a bad bit and then I sat there and read it again and logged into facebook for the first time in months to check -- that same message, posted by Morrie. No thoughts but all the thoughts and no clear way to start sifting.
Had to tell Darci, Sam, Ian, Jayme -- who else still knew him? How long since we talked -- a few weeks, a short exchange. Not really given him much time lately. Wary of him around Easter, I guess, given the several years where he explicitly said he had and expected trouble with Easter. But a month ago, he was sending me songs again, I could've been more encouraging. Could've done a lot of things, though here we are now. Several years since our last Christmas Tea, sitting outside at his parents' house like we did twenty years ago and waxing philosophic like on everything. Admonishing myself, but we'd shared kind words through last year, and the last thing he said to me wasn't an angry plea to take his scattered religious proselytizing seriously, met by my exasperated final silence. Not that it helps. Not sure why I mention it.
I did want him to have the miracle intercession, though in my version jesus wasn't really involved. He believed in me in ways I didn't quite understand or consider, with the distance between us in our adult lives he did mythologize me some. He would ask me to expound on his new music and post whatever I said as an earnest review next to it. Believed in us as collaborators on some grand project. Again, visions differ but the premise wasn't wrong. Always wanted my opinions, validation -- sometimes I couldn't or wouldn't summon the words. I didn't humour the evangelical glossolalia, prophetic-riffing, apocalyptic warnings. Left those mostly ignored, until he hurled insults, disappeared offline or needed to be blocked momentarily. But he was an old friend, so I'd talk to him again sometime.
Old friend, and friend who opened up some doors for me -- pit me against his other teenage-clever music-snob friend Ian, thrilled to have me meet his new girlfriend Jayme, who eventually added me to Darci's msn. So, at least three more of my all-time favourite humans. Old friend undersells it. Used to be, we understood each other.
II. They're Selling Postcards of the Hanging…
He said we met in a computer lab talking about Heavier Than Heaven. That's probably right. There's going to be some trite details mixed in here, we were small town teen outsiders with the same amount of perspective and self-awareness as any of our peers who in retrospect likely also felt the same mutual unintelligibility with us. But there was an us and we were of course doomed to find kinship with extremely obvious and cringeworthy pop culture obsessions -- it was what, 2002? Small town, casual bigotry to be pointed at everywhere you look, so of course Kurt Cobain was extremely Ours and we had some dumb notions about what that meant, re: ownership, ditto to Bright Eyes, ditto Elliott Smith, ditto The Strokes, ditto any classic music that 13/14 year olds are presumably to this day still finding and immediately getting snobbish and weird about shortly after discovery. Stay up all night and listen to the White Album, eventually just dropping the needle back at the start of Glass Onion over and over until it's no longer funny. I wasn't big on (read: would need to be picked up in a panic) sleepovers as a kid, but I'd stay up until dawn with Max. Rent old movies, read new-age books and Linda Goodman's Love Signs horoscopes for the 70s, never go to bed, run across Highway 97 to McDonalds for breakfast, crash on the trampoline or I'd shuffle back home down the trail. I was and still am pretty guided by proximity for friendship, and I do have to acknowledge living a walkable distance even when sleep deprived helped this nonsense happen.
The summer before had been the summer I pretty much stayed home, after having what was some sort of panic attack avoiding the middle school grad dance (due in part to a girl writing a full two pages in my yearbook.) Anyway we met before that in the middle school computer lab and then he was pretty quick to determine high school was not built for him, so the only memory I have of him on high school grounds is that he was wandering around in a floral dress either thrifted or borrowed from the theatre props department, basically begging to be beat up or cause a scene or an incident, at least be confronted, have insults spat in his face. Wanted to be looked at or get a rise out of people or a little attention but also had a self-righteous edge I couldn't exactly hate.
A few years later we were walking up Peach Orchard Road with some friends, but spaced out enough on the hill that it was just Max and I walking on the shoulder when a purple windstar full of drunk assholes pulled up beside us, rolled the windows down, and then jeered 'What are you guys, fags?' and Max, without missing a beat, replied (gleefully? matter-of-factly, certainly) 'Yep!' -- so we had to run into the bushes when these dudes started getting out of the minivan, and then had to run again when it circled back around when we found the road again, finally up town at the Macs we caught our breath and Max started throwing rocks at things behind the minimart and cursing the stupid rednecks in the stupid redneck town and I probably yelled at him for almost getting us killed. Does this story stick with me as a go-to example of Max being needlessly provocative and impulsive? Had he actually done anything wrong -- could've gotten us hurt, but should I have faulted him for confronting drunk idiots with their drunken idiocy? Think it sticks because I was wrong, timid. Should've gleefully replied with him, if I could do it again.
III. And if you wouldn't mind, I would like to lose…
If you knew him even vaguely, you knew Max was a musician -- he instinctively knew the magic of music in a way I can still only nod my head off-time to, a gifted sorcerer able to tap into one of the mysterious fonts that power the human world. My sensibilities really started to diverge from his, he wrote a lot of what I'd call sloppy, punky, conceptually ironic garbage that was clever but not like, really my thing, but also he wrote a lot of songs. So many songs. Always writing songs. Spent time on all kinds of larks in all kinds of styles, in between searching for the mythical, prototypical, platonic 'Hit' -- both a cynical ear for a (usually) pop-punk earworm and an earnest pursuit of a legitimizing artifact that would make him the guy who wrote that song. He wrote a lot of these! I remember many pretty fondly. I hope they're all somewhere spread between the many different bandcamps and soundclouds he sometimes seemed to meticulously populate and de-populate and remix and rework and delete. Anyway, he felt like he was meant to make something great. That was some of the meaning he could create. Always had that in common and I know he was more serious about it than I’ve been. He let himself write and record, and tinker, ideas wriggling out and writhing free.
I think we loved Kurt Cobain for slightly different reasons. Max romanticized drugs, death and self-destruction. He was telling anyone who would listen, aged 14, that he was going to die young. I was around to watch him continue to shovel mushrooms into his mouth waiting for them to have any kind of effect on him long after the other people doing mushrooms had settled in for the night. He stayed curiously close to sober despite his best efforts and we watched over the rest. I was a square well into my twenties but that never seemed to be anything resembling an issue when we were spending all that time hanging out, even when he was chain smoking weed trying to find some level of comfortable high. Think we smoked together once many years later and it wasn't particularly our most amazing adventure. (I'm inclined to give that award either to taking the camcorder out with Ian at 2am to go interview a security guard at Action Fest and ask him what scares him most about people and who his favourite Beatle was, or whatever was going on the night we all founded The Boatmen, who played one show, blessedly without me there, as I am no musician.)
It is extremely tempting to start asking what if or say I should've, I'm looking for answers to a matter that is now settled and what remains is to accept that what happened was what happens when people grow up and move elsewhere and meet new people and do new things, and staying it touch is hard in the best circumstances, particularly when the more self-destructive of the two of us was, in his late teens, blowing up most of his friendships with unpredictable and sometimes volatile behaviour. Again, he could be provocative and confrontational to friend and foe alike. But as I said above, used to be, we understood each other, and I've only met so many people and found that to be the case.
Saw him a few times as though summoned, randomly ran into him one time on a skytrain platform in Vancouver when I was there for a weekend, much to the discomfort of the other friends from High School I was with. Saw him a few times after that. I don't remember exactly when he first told me had been institutionalized, or kicked out of the house, in whichever order. Had the cops called on him for preaching in the street, had his first run-in with mood stabilizers and doctors and finding god, then losing track of god, moving back to the coast to make music and continue dabbling with his romantic, often destructive notions. He'd reappear online with new music to share, good news about a girl, or cool new friends, new living situation, sounding like he'd found something to believe in. There was something of a cycle emerging and I know he knew, but what could I do? Keep in touch, at least a bit.
IV. Say, Fate, my friend, you say the strangest things…
Doctors, or somebody, told him it was schizophrenia. It's not uncommon to have delusions of grandeur, or messianic ideation, when there's a lot of conflicting information in your head. And that's probably more or less what happened for a few Easters, things sounding properly apocalyptic and disastrous and the fate of the world hanging in the balance if only people (myself included) would listen and take what he was saying seriously.
But. I think I should say something else about Max and faith. In between the times when he would come up seemingly lucid, energized, hopeful and making new music, he would, invariably start getting into religion, religions, spirituality, esoteric philosophy. Always sort of into religion, like a cult leader or a rockstar might be, making something means something. But he was a philosopher of a more desperate sort-- there had to be a meaning. He already believed himself doomed by the narrative at 14, but without the peak of whatever sort of success would do, there wasn't really a tragedy. Had to teach and spread the word and form something to believe in. So I understand why he was intermittently obsessed with being a priest, or a preacher, or rabbi, iman, shaman, anyone who knows something about why any of this is how it is, who could find meaning in any and all of the old teachings and finally become a prophet.
I was pretty anxious and prayer happy as a child, but since then I've been various levels of actively antagonistic to the power wielded and perverted by religions but always just apathetic to notions of gods or heavens, things I don't think will affect how I want or choose to live. This obviously infuriated Max, when he was in his believer moods. He as much as told me that he wanted, firstly, to riff and banter with me like we were still insomniac teens. Second, he wanted me to cross-examine or support and scaffold his ideas, confirm and accept the visions and versions of Big-T Truth -- make it make sense by weighing in. My opinion still mattered even if the version of me in his head was a decade out of date. Third, he wanted to save me too. So often, I'd stop talking because he'd write several page screeds in faux-KJV diction that I just couldn't parse -- scripture, free association, tangents, crudely spelled verbal puns, digressions referencing things I had no point of reference for -- I'm not sure what state he was ever in, to be honest. I talk about the cycle he was in, but I can only really track how he was behaving toward me in our messages, over the course of weeks and months and then these last fifteen years.
Anyway, I'd stop responding and the tone would change to an angry concern for my soul, an appeal to our bond in youth, then insults, then silence on one or both sides and then I would essentially wait to hear from him. Sounding contrite, almost. With new music to share. Sometimes asking me about myself.
One of the last times we met and talked for tea he declared that he'd never had schizophrenia, not really. Hadn't even really meant to be institutionalized, it was a misunderstanding, it was an overreaction, and it had been haunting and unwinding his life since he was 19. He could often be so self aware, I don't remember what I managed to say in response. Something hopeful, I hope. He made a few interesting declarations over the years. I hoped for something. Something interrupting. That we would, as we agreed once, be old men meeting for tea to talk. I'd always take his finding meaning and comfort over his finding peace, for what it's worth.
V. There must be some way out of here, said the joker to the thief…
One more embarrassing teen angst adjacent anecdote. I don't exactly know how it came up. It was a field trip somewhere and we were at A&W I believe, because I remember getting a root beer milkshake and hating it, and also showing Dru something in my wallet, next to the little picture of Gumby I put in the photo panel, a tiny printed slip of the lyrics to All Along the Watchtower. Did she even ask? Anyway, I remember explaining that yes, I still talked to Max. And maybe then I revealed the little card-- it was in there for Max. We were the joker and the thief. Think I had to bullshit an explanation there because I didn’t and still don't remember when or why we had decided that, maybe it was a single joke one time late into the evening listening to Bob. Anyway, nobody else knew I was carrying those lyrics around for as long as I had that wallet. I don't even remember which one of us was which.
Least of my sorrows, but at least one I can properly name.
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