#and that ain't good if that's a general impression

[evilminji]

*Gasp of joy* Brain, you shouldn't have!

You know how the Wayne's have basicly been the ONLY Good And Uncorrupt Wealthy Family in Gotham? And probably fuckin curse resistant AF because otherwise, HOW!? (No, seriously, the local magical population is baffled but impressed!)

....you....you wanna bet at least a few of those suckers died thinking "but I haven't completed my orphan hospital for sickly waifish puppy's and sad eyed children, yet! I... must... save... THE CHILDREN! *le dies (×.× ) * " to the tune of their beautiful (and somehow bizarrely benevolent and well adjusted) families weeping at their bedsides.

Whoop! There's a ghost! Hello, Mr. Wayne.

(Why does this Keep Happening? Please have LESS unfinished bussiness. You're supposed to be rich. Stop trying to help people ON YOUR DEATH BEDS! FFS.)

I say all this? Beeeecause~?

( >.>)(<.< )

Allright! Time to come clean, folks! Which side of the family lead to our descendant dressing up in a Kevlar BAT SUIT!!? Throwing himself off buildings in the middle of the night. Cavorting around with Amazons!

We aren't even mad about the last one! We're actually deeply and respectfully impressed! But who pulled THAT off? Angela? That yours? (*shrug* I mean... probably? It DOES seem like something my daughter would do...)

So like?

Imagine Danny~.

Trying to eat his generic brand cereal. IN HIS Underwear. When? All these Fancy Ghosts show up to his A College Kid's, Baby's First, Crap Apartment(TM). He's eating on a pillow on the floor for God's sake. It's too early for this! C'mon guys...

But, no.

They want permission to go Haunt their Descendant.

Danny sighs. He can already FEEL his cereal going soggy. This is gonna take a while, ain't it? Okay... okay, WHO is you offspring, what did they do, and for how long? You know the rules, guys.

Then they hit him with the oh so casual "BTW he's Fuckin Batman".

YOU WANT TO WHAT!?

(They convince him. How? He couldn't tell you. It's... is? Is this what It's like meeting a Fenton? For other people? Huh. He always thought people were exaggerating...)

Which? Is how a dead Victorian Old Man has arrived to ABSOLUTELY tear this Trouble Making Youngster a new one, in front of his little friends! Just full on full names him. Oh, OH! The broken BONES! The BRUISES! Have you no regard for your poor ancestors health! Their fragile hearts! Trying to put us in the grave AGAIN, are you?! Why in MY DAY-!!!

(Nightwing? Recording this for Alfred. It's gonna be an early birthday present~)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [15K] PART TWO OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

tw: mentions of pregnancy, slight steddie.

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Five weeks. 

You didn’t see Steve for five weeks. Not for lack of looking. The Lake House was astoundingly quieter with the loss of the youngest Harrington and his friends, the bar empty, the Macallan well stocked and poker nights were taken over by the older generation. You didn’t see him on the golf course, nor in the spa. He didn’t frequent the smoking lounge and you didn’t see him at the bar. Gone was his maroon BMW from the parking lot and on the one, stupid occasion where you’d swallowed all your shame, you drove past his townhouse after a late night shift and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved to see it sitting in the dark, empty.

You hadn’t exchanged numbers that night, still, the radio silence was infuriating. But hey, at least he wasn’t just plain avoiding you. 

Which you realised when he waltzed in one Tuesday before lunch service, more tanned than ever, white shirt sleeves rolled up, tan trousers perfectly tailored. His eyes were on you immediately, his hair longer than you’d last seen him, like he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to get it cut. Strands of it fell into his eyes and he swept them out of the way with a grin as he approached the bar. More so a smirk, really. And it irked you, his smirk, his pretty brown eyes, his perfectly messy hair, his sunkissed skin and don’t give a fuck attitude. 

He leant on the bar like he owned it, elbows pressed to the wood, hands clasped in front of him so the gold ring glinted in the afternoon sun. He didn’t say anything, he just waited, watching as you finished polishing a wine glass and put it back on the glass shelf. 

You cleared your throat and didn’t bother to smile, but the voice you spoke in was very much reserved for customer service. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you?”

You watched as Steve’s eyes flashed a little darker, amused and something else. He let out a soft laugh, like he thought you were funny. Like he thought your cold indifference was hilarious. So he played along, sliding onto one of the suede stools. The bar room was somewhat empty, most of the members either gathering for lunch in the sun room or soaking up the last of the warm weather on the golf course. It was quiet, and the tension between the two of you could fill the entire manor. 

“A Macallan, please,” Steve answered, just as politely. 

He was still watching every move you made, eyes raking over your legs, the fit of your dress over your hips, the swell of your ass when you turned and reached up for the bottle of scotch. You smiled, a sardonic press of your lips that didn’t meet your eyes when you asked him, “would you like ice with that?”

Steve really laughed then, but there was an edge to it that told you were getting under his skin. If he wanted to leave the country for over a month after blowing your mind in his fancy living room like it was no big deal, well— you could pretend you don’t care. Or better yet, didn’t even remember him. 

“No ice,” he said and before you could pour, he waved his hand for you to stop. “Actually, you know what? I’d prefer the forty year. You have that right, honey?”

You did. But it was in the back, behind a heavy, locked door. The forty year old scotch could go for thirty thousand dollars a bottle. You tried not to look surprised, or worse, impressed. So you nodded instead and told him, ���of course, sir. Please bear with me.”

But when you left the bar to walk towards the door that was marked ‘employees only,’ Steve was behind you. You watched him lean against the wall as you fumbled with your key card, pressing it once, twice - fuck - three times against the pad before it buzzed. And when you pushed the door open and Steve caught it, slipping in behind you, your cold indifference turned to anger. 

Who did he think he was? Did he think he was that untouchable?

“This is employees only,” you hissed at him, panicking at the thought of someone else - god forbid, your boss - catching you in the hallway with him. 

Like they’d be able to tell you’d gone to his late one night, that you’d stood and stripped for him in front of his big fireplace and bigger TV, like they’d find out he’d put his mouth on you and made to you come harder than  anyone else ever ha—

But Steve just sighed, a long suffering thing that made your hackles rise up that little bit higher. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Honey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He brushed past you, hands in his pockets, walking down the corridor towards the locked room where the high value liquor was kept. “No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Now, come on.”

You didn’t want to obey, you didn’t want to do as he said. But you were at a loss. He looked so good and smelled so nice, clean and like the ocean, like sunscreen, like he’d just stepped off the plane from whatever Italian city he’d been hiding in and came straight to you. So you didn’t say anything, you just straightened up and let the clickclickclick of your heels fill the silence as you edged past him again and walked towards the door. 

He didn’t let you reach it before he started talking again, a lazy drawl that matched his slow walk, an effortless thing that suited his linen trousers and effortlessly rumpled shirt. Even the lock of hair that fell across his forehead looked artfully placed. 

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?” 

You clenched your jaw. “No.”

You heard him laugh and the sound made your hand slip from where it tried to remember the combination for the door. He was so sure of himself, so sure and so confident that you’d spent the last five weeks thinking of him and where he was and what he was doing and who he was with—

“So rude today, honey. You don’t want to hear about the business deals I secured? The money I made?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. You kept your back to him, body stiff, mind positivity empty as you tried to recall the fucking code. You could sense him getting closer, body heat crowding yours, his cologne, his scent, like he’d bottled an Italian summer and sprayed it all over himself. 

“No,” you repeated. Blunt, short, cold. 

“What if I brought you back a present, wouldn’t you want to know then?”

He was behind you now, a towering presence, intimidating even when you weren’t looking at him. His chest brushed your back, a solid, warm thing that you wanted to melt against. But you kept yourself strong, hoping he couldn’t see your shaking hands as you tried another series of numbers. Steve’s hand came up to your neck, sweeping away the hair there, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin. 

The keypad beeped at you in protest, another denied entry. 

“You’re not like the other girls, are you, honey?”

You braced yourself, waiting for the speech about how you were different from the others, better in whatever way Steve deemed appropriate. Prettier, maybe. Smarter, quirkier, some kind of compliment that was supposed to make you preen for him. 

 Steve tsked and moved closer, his nose brushing the nape of your neck. “No, you don’t want my money. You’re not interested, huh? You don’t want the cash, the presents, no diamonds, no five thousand dollar shoes. You don’t want the cars or the houses or the yachts or the ring on your finger, huh?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. Steve’s little speech didn’t go the way you assumed. The boy spun you suddenly, backing you into the wall as he took your chin in his hold, heated skin between a finger and his thumb, his nose and lips trailing over your cheek, your temple. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. You waited. 

“No, honey, you just want fucked, don’t you?” 

His lips were at your ear, trailing over the shell of it and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered, heading lolling back until it thudded against the wall. You were breathing funny, your body boneless. How did you fucking get here?

Steve grinned even though you couldn’t see, teeth on your jaw instead. He took your hand from where it lay limp by your side and brought it to his crotch, cupping it between his own and his cock, the hard length of him pushing against his slacks and your small hand. “You just want this, right?” His teeth nipped at you and you scrunched your face in pleasure, lips parting. “Tell me.”

You folded, a new kind of girl from the one that stood at the bar, brushing him off and pretending you couldn’t recall the way you came on his tongue. You nodded, brows knitted together, like you were ready to beg. Maybe you were. “Yeah,” you answered breathily. “I want it.”

Steve kissed your cheek, a sweet thing, a sudden and shocking touch. “Want what? Wanna hear it, honey, c’mon.”

Heat rushed through you, clinging to your cheeks, your neck. You squirmed, embarrassed and turned on, even more embarrassed that you were throbbing at his words. You blinked at him. “Want your cock,” you whispered. 

“Smart girl,” he cooed. “Clever girl. Such a good fucking girl.” Steve let go of your chin, used his fingertips to brush your hair back and draw a line down your jaw. He pressed another kiss, to your chin this time, a fleeting thing that you tried to chase. You wanted to taste him. “That’s better isn’t it? So much better when you play nice. Where do you want it? Hm? Wanna suck it for me, honey? Want to feel it down your throat?” Steve tsked, his voice low and controlled despite the filth he was muttering against your cheek. “No, no, you want it inside of you, right? My baby wants fucked, right?”

Baby. My baby. It didn’t feel like a pet name, not really. Not like the way he said ‘honey,’ like melted candy on his tongue. No. This felt like ownership. 

You were throbbing from the inside out, your brain buzzing, a white noise kind of sound that tuned out everything bar Steve’s voice, his words, that awfully fucking pretty cadence that made you feel like you were one step away from getting in trouble. You don’t know why you loved it, why it made your toes curl, your lips part and a whine get stuck in your throat. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping over his shirt, creasing the expensive linen. You didn’t care. “Yeah, please, I want that.”

“Oh, it’s Steve, now, is it?” The boy laughed a little meanly, grabbing at your hips to turn you for him, your chest pressed to the wall as he made sure your ass stayed popped out for him. He traced the pretty arch of your back, rocked his dick against the curve of your ass cheek and squeezed. “I think I preferred ‘sir.’ Made you sound so much more agreeable.”

You just moaned. A sound you’d never heard yourself make, an animalistic thing, wrecked sounding and it made Steve beam. “Oh honey, you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?” His hands found the hem of your dress and cool air hit the tops of your thighs as he started lifting it up. 

You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care. 

Your cheek was pressed to the wall, Lake House green paint under the press of your palms and you remained pliant for Steve, back arched and legs spreading a little, ready for him to pull your underwear to the side and slip his cock inside of you. You wanted it, you needed it—

“I’m not gonna fuck you here, pretty girl, not yet.” Steve was at your ear again, whispering against the shell of it, his fingers grabbing a handful of your ass under your dress as he squeezed and pulled at the dough of it. “Gonna take my time with you for that. Going to make sure I ruin you.”

Disappointment washed over you like a bucket of cold water. It was sobering and his words made you whine, a desperate noise that the staff corridor of The Lake House should never have heard. You turned on your own volition, gazing at Steve with heavy lidded eyes and you were pleased to see he looked the same. Cheeks pink, lips parted, his chest moving a little quicker than before. You remembered the way he’d taken charge that night, how he’d just assumed you’d come home with him after the poker game, how he’d sat in front of you, sprawled on his big sofa as he watched you take off your clothes for him. 

How he’d told you to. 

And then he’d made you come undone, unravelling against his mouth as he whispered dirty things to you, leaving you fuzzy and hazy as he dropped you home, seemingly unaffected. You wanted that power back, you wanted to see him too far gone to remember how much money he had in the bank. 

So you pressed your palms to his chest and smoothed down his shirt collar before you dropped to your knees in front of him. It should’ve been a submissive thing, most people would assume it was. You, kneeling below the rich man, the man who had wealth and connections and an entire legacy built on just his name. You, the girl who was paid to serve him from behind a bar, pouring drinks that you’d ever be able to afford, on the floor in front of him. 

But when you looked back up at Steve, his cocky expression had changed to one of awe. Genuine surprise showed in his eyes, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinked at you, dreamlike, hazy, fuzzy. Just like he’d made you feel. You brought your hands to the front of his trousers, finger teasing the button there before he slumped forward a little and braced his hands on the very wall he’d pushed you up against. He nodded, mumbled something that sounded like ‘please.’

Victory. 

You looked back at the door you’d come through, no windows in the wood, but still thin enough that could hear the grand piano playing in the dining room, the distant tinkling of china teapots against porcelain teacups. Anyone could walk in. You’d get fired. Or worse.

The button popped under your finger and thumb, and the zipper whispered in the quiet when you tugged it down. Steve groaned, a heavy, hot sound that made the slick between your thighs worsen. He was leaning over you, head bowed between the arms that held him up, his full lips pink and parted as he stared down at you. You waited for some sort of instruction, an order, some filthy kind of praise but instead, he just watched. 

Powerless. 

You flattened a palm against his cock, hard and warm under the cotton of his black Calvin Kleins, your other hand braced on his thigh. You looked up, one brow raised, a silent question even as the solid length of him kicked up against your touch. 

“Yes,” he rasped, nodding. “Yeah, honey, go ‘head.”

You worked fast, the rest of the club a far away murmur behind the locked door as Steve’s heavy breaths took over your senses instead. You dragged the band of his underwear down, his cock slapping up against his stomach. He was huge, thick and long and hard to wrap your fingers around and you hated that he had another reason to walk around acting like he fucking owned the world. 

But you wanted the power back and you grasped him in your fist, pumping him against your palm as he tried to stop his hips from bucking forward. You wanted Steve like putty, yours to play with, you wanted him to fall apart as fast and as hard as he made you. 

So you skipped the teasing, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe across the head of his cock, salt on your tongue and he swore, hips jerking when you opened your mouth and let him slide past your lips. You worked quick, heart racing from the adrenline of sucking someone off during working hours, hidden in a place you weren’t supposed to be. This was stupid, it was so fucking stupid but the stretch of your jaw around Steve’s cock was delicious, the sounds he was making even better. He was gasping your name, his voice hoarse, his eyes barely able to stay open but his lashes fluttered and he made sure he watched the way his cock disappeared in and out your mouth, over and over again. 

Your nails scratched at his thighs, making him hiss, your free hand pumping the length of him that you couldn’t nudge into your throat. It was wet and messy, a filthy thing that made his brain malfunction ‘cause you were looking up at him the whole time with big, doe eyes and your pretty, little dress was splayed over your thighs. You looked like sin, you looked like his own personal wet dream and you were tracing your tongue along the underside of his cock as the head of it hit the back of your throat and—

“Oh my god,” Steve growled. One hand fell from the wall to grasp your head, not pushing, not guiding. Just twisting into your hair and holding on for dear fucking life. “Oh, fuck, m’gonnacome.”

It had barely been five minutes and a new sort of determination flushed through you. You were soaked, inner thighs wet from the heat of Steve’s stare, from the weight of his cock on your tongue and god, he was tipping his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair as he realised you were doubling down on your efforts and not pulling off. 

“In your mouth, honey, yeah?” His voice was a little higher, breathier, so much less than controlled that it ever had been. “Gonna come in that pretty mouth, that smart, little mouth, hm? Please? Gonna swallow it all for me?”

You hummed in agreement, refusing to take you lips away from him, bringing a hand to cup his balls as you worked your mouth around him, rolling them in your palm. Steve twitched against your tongue, hips jerking forward as he gasped out everything from a prayer, to your name, to a curse. He came hard and sudden, his jaw hanging slack as he stared down at you, watching with a greedy sort of awe as he spilled over your tongue. You made a show of it for him, lips parting and mouth open as you pumped what you could out of him, letting him see it cover your tongue before you swallowed. 

And as he stood, barely keeping himself up, breathless and speechless, you tucked him back into his trouser, soft and spent. You stood primly, caged between his arms as you smoothed down your skirt and met his gaze. He looked a little wild, a little wrecked and he swore under his breath when you licked your lips, using your thumb to politely swipe at the corner of your mouth, like a lady at high tea, not a girl who’d just sucked the fucking life from him. 

Neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure Steve could. So you ducked under his arm and walked away, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you tried to make sure he couldn’t seen the way your legs shook. Chin high, smile victorious, you didn’t look back before you slipped out of the door and out to the bar. It took a while for Steve to appear, face still a little flushed, but he’d brushed back his hair and smoothed out any wrinkles in his shirt, his trouser buttoned back up but his eyes gave him away. 

They were glittering, trained on you as he came through the employees only door like he owned the entire building. 

He didn’t care that you were serving Mr and Mrs St. Clair there afternoon martinis. No, he walked right up to the bar and tapped his fingers on the wood, vying for your attention. You gave it easily, gaze on Steve instead of the cocktail shaker you were filling with ice. 

“What time do you finish?” He asked, voice still rough. 

You swallowed tightly, eyes flitting to the older couple who weren’t paying you much mind. Not when their drinks weren’t ready yet. “Seven,” you told him.

Steve nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

—————

That’s how it went. 

No labels, not much talking - not about anything too serious anyway, like the future. Just a whirlwind you couldn’t really call a romance because Steve Harrington had fucked you in every room of his house, every car he parked in his too big garage, but he’d never kissed your lips. You’d found that Steve didn’t really do sweet unless it came with some kind of condescending tone that made your toes curl, surprising you on the odd occasion with a sudden fondness that even shocked him. But still, no kisses. He’d kiss you everywhere else, forehead often resting against yours as you both caught your breaths, his cock still inside you. You’d feel his nose bump your own, a soft touch, an intimate thing. But he’d pull back when you’d lift your chin a little, mouth searching for his like he hadn’t just been gasping into it. 

He didn’t really hold your hand or call you his girlfriend but he knew your favourite wine, an expensive Chardonnay he liked to buy you by the crate, along with flowers you hadn’t even seen before, colourful blooms that looked like they belonged in a magazine. He’d place his hand on the small of your back when he took you out to restaurants, cocktail bars full of business men that only he knew. Away from Hawkins, always in the front of one of his cars, each one faster and shinier than the last. Dining rooms with chandeliers and low lights, pillar candles on white table cloths and five forks each. 

He showed you off, surprising you with silk dresses and red bottomed heels that you told him off for, but Steve would kiss your neck, your bare shoulder and whisper how he wanted to take the pretty dress off of you later, how he wanted you in nothing but Louboutin’s. His touch was possessive, dirty, sometimes surprisingly caring, a gentleman that opened your car doors for you, who pulled out your chair for you to sit. 

 But no, he never kissed your lips. 

And when he was spending days and weeks in Rome, Milan, Cannes, New York, Los Angeles, Singapore, St. Martin, well. When was there time to talk about relationships?

Steve Harrington was private jets and brand new Bentley’s. He was a special edition Rolex and had his family's name outside Hawkin’s city hall on a gold plaque. He was silk, leather, polished shoes and freshly ironed shirts. Gold, suede, expensive cologne, yachts in Monaco, a villa in the hills of the French Riviera. But he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

No. He was thousand dollar bottles of whisky, business deals in San Tropez, a private beach club in Marbella. He was parties. He was the party. Cocktail nights with the elite, a grown up rager in someone's mansion, where chandeliers swung from ornate ceilings and the stairs were painted in gold leaf, littered with coked up rich kids who were using daddie’s hundred dollar bills to fill their noses. 

Like the one you were at now, the thumpthumpthump of far away music still managing to reach you three floors up. The entire house was filled with art, a gallery more than a home and twenty something year olds made the place look too messy, black ties loose around men’s necks as girls walked around the marble floors barefoot, bottles of Moët clutched in their hands, each one looking for someone else to fuck. Grecian statues were thrown like footballs, busts of women from too long ago used as something to take a line off of and there were five people in the pool outside, naked, drunk, all taking turns touching each other. 

It was debauchery at its finest. At its richest. 

It was Eddie’s idea. 

He’d invited Steve who’d then picked you up in a car you hadn’t seen before, a deep green Camaro with tan leather seats. It was already late, later than you’d like to have left for the beginning of a night out but Eddie promised a good time and the possibility of a new business venture for Steve.  

The house had been an hour out of town, nestled off into the countryside between a forest and a lake, the long driveway spot lit as it led to the huge brick manor. You’d walked through the door behind Eddie, Steve’s hand on your back as he coaxed you inside and into the chaos. Music, bodies, champagne flutes overflowing on a round table in the foyer, marble flooring, tapestries on the walls, spilled glitter on the stairway and money littering a desk, poker chips on the floor. 

No one greeted you, no one looked at you. But someone slapped Steve on the shoulder and Eddie shook a guy's hand, a bag of white powder exchanged for a rolled up wad of cash. No words were said. So Steve grabbed a mottle of Moët from a tabletop and took your hand, only to lead you up the stairs and Eddie followed, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he winked at the girl on the landing that you all had to step over. 

An empty room, champagne bubbles, two men. 

The bed was huge, a canopy style thing with too many pillows and with gold stitched quilts. Red drapes and low lights, a thick carpet that you dug your toes into when you slipped off your heels and then fell onto the mattress. Eddie followed, tipsy, boisterous, laughing as he did. Steve lazed in an armchair in the corner, long legs splayed out in front of him as he sipped from the bottle, his eyes on the way the hem of your dress slipped up your thighs. 

“How does Steve’s little friend like the lifestyle?” Eddie asked you, grinning. “Is the Moët to your taste, sweetheart?” He was teasing and you knew that, teasing in a lighter way than Steve would because he was smiling and his eyes were kind, his cheek pushed to the bedding as he waited for your answer. 

You took the bottle from Steve and let the bubbles slide down your throat, the fizziness tickling the roof of your mouth and it wasn’t sweet enough. Still, you took it greedily, wetting your lips before you dropped the empty bottle onto the floor with a thud. “I prefer Chardonnay, but it’ll do,” you joked back. 

Eddie laughed and then hummed. He appraised you thoughtfully before his eyes flickered to Steve, dark in the dim light. “Oh yeah, Mr Harrington was kind enough to buy you a whole case of it, huh? I saw the order, sweetheart don’t get flustered.” Eddie reached out to brush a stand of your hair away from your face and from the corner of your eye, you saw Steve sit up a little straighter. “He’s real nice, isn’t he? Likes to spoil a pretty girl like you.”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was a warning. 

“Right?” he continued, nodding at you like you’d agreed. You simply watched him from the bed, breath hitching a little when he propped himself onto one elbow so he could look down at you, one finger tracing up and down your forearm. “Jewellery, flowers, nice dinners, nicer dresses,” he trailed off, plucking at the strap of your black dress. “Pretty things for pretty girls. He doesn’t kiss you though, does he?”

The air was sucked out of the room and Steve bristled. “Eddie.”

Eddie ignored him. He tutted sympathetically, pouting at you. “He hasn’t, has he? He never does, some weird rule he has.” You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. But you gasped quietly when Eddie traced a finger over your bottom lip, tugging at it gently until he let it go and it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. “Such a shame.”

He pulled away slightly to look back at Steve, who was sitting forward in the chair now, his elbows braved on his knees as he stared at Eddie with a dark expression. Like he was waiting. Warning him. But he didn’t say anything, so Eddie turned back to you. 

“D’you know that Steve and I share things?”

You shook your head, wishing you had the sense to sit up, to collect yourself, to pull the hem of your damn dress down because the warm air that was trapped inside the room - between these two men - was heating up the skin on your thighs. 

“Yeah,” Eddie explained. “Shares, stocks, cars… girls.” He leaned down again, nose bumping against your temple as he whispered theatrically into your, loud enough for Steve to hear. “He likes me more than Hargrove, you see.”

You could hear a pin drop. 

“Do you think he’d let me kiss you, sweetheart? I bet he would.” Eddie was on his hands and knees now, crawling over you, hovering just above, hands braced on either side of your head and he grinned at the way your pupils grew a little bigger, a little darker. Both of you turned your heads to the side, your cheeks pressed to the expensive Egyptian cotton and you both looked at Steve. You weren’t sure what for. For a scolding, for a fight, for approval. 

“C’mon, Harrington,” Eddie broke the silence. “She’s not your girl, is she? You gonna let me taste her? Seeing as you don’t? Bet she’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

Steve let out a huff of breath, his eyes flashing as he gripped the arm of the chair too tight. He sat back into the leather, shoulders stiff and lips in a straight line. “I know how she tastes, Munson, trust me.”

The way they spoke about you like you weren’t there made your skin tingle, an electric current that ran through your bones and you were buzzing, fizzing - but that might’ve been the champagne. But still, Eddie continued, playing Steve until he was flushed in the face with an emotion you couldn’t place. 

“Yeah but those lips look pretty fucking biteable,” Eddie whispered and he ducked his head down, nose brushing yours, lips parting when yours did on instinct. “Could eat her up. Like a little peach, huh?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop it. He just sat and stared, cock stirring in his trousers because this is how these parties went and this wasn’t the first time he’d watched his friend take the girl he’d brought on a bed. In fact, this was tame compared to the other nights, lines of coke and whisky on a bedside table, his cock buried in some strange girl's mouth as Eddie took her from behind, shirt buttons ripped open and matching red lipstick on both their chests. 

This was different. It felt different. 

But still, he stayed quiet. 

“You just want a kiss, don’t you?” Eddie cooed as he kept close, nuzzling his nose to your cheek, making sure his lips brushed across your when he moved to the other side. Your hands curled around the outside of his thighs where he kneeled over you, keeping him there, holding tight. You could see Steve out of your peripheral. “Pretty thing like you just wants some lovin’, I know it.”

Then slowly, as if allowing you - or Steve - to stop him, Eddie moved in, kissing your top lip before moving to your bottom, a barely there thing before he was kissing you properly, mouth pushing against yours. He angled his face so Steve could see, so the other boy on the armchair could watch the way he parted his lips and opened your own with his tongue, licking into you in a way that made your back arch. Steve watched the black silk of your dress - the one he bought you - meet Eddie’s shirt, matching colours, black as midnight. Ink on skin, moving against a stranger's sheets. Nipples pebbling against the material as Eddie dragged one of his hands down your sides, lifting your arm up and keeping it above your head so he could drag his fingers down the side of your breast, the material pulling tight over your skin. 

He followed the curve of it, made you gasp into his mouth and then he was groaning, whispering something about how sweet you were, his tongue sweeping over your own before he was ripped away from you. 

Steve had Eddie by the scruff of his shirt, hauling him off of the bed and you until he staggered into the other boy, grinning like this was all the funniest game in the world. You were panting, lips still glossy from Eddie’s kiss, eyes wide with shock because Steve was pulling himself up to his full height, shoulder squared, chin tilted up. 

His nose almost touched Eddie’s. 

“S’wrong, Harrington?” Eddie whispered. He was goading, excited, too amused. “She’s not your girl, right?” Their chests touched but Eddie didn’t back down, still grinning, curls mussed from where he’d lay on the bed with you, your gloss smeared across his own lips, a pretty pink that matched the flush across his cheeks. “You normally don’t mind sharing, dude, what’s the problem?”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he was breathing a little heavier, gaze flickering to you as you sat up and smoothed down your dress, your hair. Part of you wanted to get between the boys, soothe whatever was about to start, but something inside of you wanted to hear what Steve had to say. You stared back at him, feeling too hot, too exposed but you waited, gaze hard on him. 

“Quit playin’, Eddie,” Steve warned and he took one step back, standing in the middle of you and the other boy. He looked flustered, a little put together than he normally did, his eyes dark and his cheeks heated, his back too stiff and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the way they were balled into fists. “I’m not in the mood.”

But Eddie kept smiling, hands held out in front of him as if he were surrendering but he continued to smile, eyes shining as kept talking, voice lilting. “Poor thing just wanted a kiss, man, only giving her what you don’t. Sorta mean, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t say anything, you just watched as Steve glared and Eddie grinned, the room filled with something more than faded music, empty champagne bottles and all the leftover bubbles. Tension fizzed in the corners, it made the walls crack and split, it made your chest turn a little too tight. 

“Like I said,” Eddie gestured to you, eyes flirting up and down your frame appreciatively before turning back to Steve, “s’not like she’s your girl, is she?”

The thump of a bassline from two floors down, faint splashes from a pool outside the open window, the smash of a glass. But silence from Steve. 

“Am I?” 

Your voice sounded so much smaller than you wanted it to but you stared at Steve as you watched his jaw tense and flex. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath, something you couldn’t hear, pressing his thumb to the corner of his eye before he faced you. 

“We’ve, uh,” he swallowed and reached for another cigarette. “We’ve spoken about this, honey.” He said it calmly, casually, like you should’ve known better. 

But you had spoken about it at all. Not really. Steve’s silence said more than words and when he only pressed kisses to your cheek, to the insides of your thighs and side of your neck, you’d finally gotten the hint. Steve Harrington didn’t get attached. He didn’t do relationships. He was too busy, and spent too much time between too many cities, too many countries. Steve Harrington had yachts and cars and penthouses and villas. But he didn’t have girlfriends. Not just one, anyway. 

You should’ve known. You had known. But hearing it aloud made it hurt that little bit more. So you nodded as if you agreed and when Steve lit the cigarette and let it hang between his lips, you stared at the floor as he stared at you. Then he was nodding towards the door and expecting you to follow him. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t move. Eddie chuckled, a dark thing that made Steve glare at him but he looked over at you, cigarette between his fingers as it turned down quicker than he could smoke it. “Honey, let’s go.”

You still didn’t move. 

So Steve looked at you and then he looked at Eddie and scoffed, waving a dismissive hand before he left the room and left the house. 

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

You didn’t hear from Steve for the first few days after the party. 

Four days went by without seeing him and honestly, that was okay with you. He stayed away from the clubhouse, even when you saw Billy and Eddie in the lounge, Jonathan at poker nights, Steve wasn’t with them. You saw his car around town now and then, passing the maroon BMW as you drove home from work late at night, watching its tail lights speed away in your rear view mirror. You wondered if he had another girl in the front seat, someone else he called honey and fucked on the living room sofa. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You knew this would happen, you were just stupid enough to let it. You knew you’d get your heart broken, you knew you’d be the one left hurt. Because despite Steve’s proclivity for showering you in gifts and sex, you did have fun with him. He was sweet when he wanted to be, when he took off his suit and tie and shut off his pager. The business calls would stop and he’d forgo the expensive wine and designer shoes in favour of bringing a bag of your favourite chocolate, a dollar from the gas station and more appreciated than he realised. 

There had been a night he’d taken you his kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before, his forehead pressed to yours, his soft murmurs falling into your open mouth. 

“Eyes on me, honey, keep watchin.”

“You’re so pretty, y’know that? Could stay inside you all fuckin’ night, Jesus Christ.”

“There she is, there she is, look at you, huh? Fuckin’ perfect at takin’ me.”

It had made you feel giddy, fuzzy, coming on Steve’s cock harder than ever and after he slid out of you he ran you a bath instead of taking you home. He didn’t join you like you asked, scoffing at the idea of lavender bubbles and water hot enough to scald him but he did sit on the tiles, shirtless and with his hands in the tub, fingers trailing over your water slick legs. He told you about the places he’d been, beaches and cities, the towns he’d think you’d like. And in the candle light, at three in the morning, with no one else around, Steve told you that he’d have to take you one day. 

You’d hummed, pleased, heart racing at the idea of something coming from all of this. Not a free holiday, but someone to be with. A boyfriend, maybe, a partner. Someone who loved you as good as they fucked you. You weren’t deluded, you knew this wasn’t love. Not yet. But this handsome man came to the bar one day and decided that you were going to be his in some way or another. He wined you, dined you, spoiled you. Fucked you the way you asked and looked at you with stars in his eyes every time you got on your knees for him. He didn’t want you kissing anyone else, even when he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. 

There were times you thought he would. Times he looked at you like he wanted to, needed to. Straying closer and closer to your lips every time he kissed you goodnight, a lingering thing on your cheek that you wished you could bottle up and keep. He’d let his lips graze over you when he fucked you, pressing you into the cushions of his couch because even taking you to his bed was too intimate, too much like a relationship. So he’d fuck you slow in his living room, in the glow of the fireplace with the red wine forgotten on the table as he lost himself in it all, mouth skimming over the planes of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, the very fucking corner of your bottom lip, like that wasn’t as bad as letting him bend you over his mattress. 

Steve Harrington told you that he didn’t get attached, but you weren’t able to promise him the same.  

So your crush gave way to anger, a frustrated annoyance that made your blood simmer when you left work one Wednesday evening, autumn settling over the town as you wrapped your jacket around you a little tighter and headed to your car. Except Steve was leaning against the hood of it, a dozen red roses clutched in one hand. He didn’t look nearly as put together as he normally did, but you thought he was twice as pretty. Still tanned, forever sunkissed even as the leaves on the trees started to fall, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Harvard sweater. He didn’t go to Harvard, didn’t need to, but he looked every part the preppy boy you would’ve fallen in love with if you’d made it to college. 

He looked softer but still as confident as ever as he stayed lounging against your car, like he was waiting for you to come to him. Instead you rolled your eyes and headed to the driver's side of your old Volkswagen, ignoring him as you passed. 

“Wow, you’re just going to pretend I’m not here?” 

Annoyance flared inside of you at the sound of his voice, unapologetic with a touch of entitlement. You scoffed, turning to the boy only to glare and you opened the drivers door so you could throw in your purse. “Most people would start with an apology, Steve.”

He pushed off the front of your hood and came to you, flowers held out as if to say ‘this is the apology.’ You could smell the flowers in the air, fresh and a vibrant red, overflowing from his hand and you could only imagine the price he paid for something that would wilt and die in a few days. 

“You actually have to say it, you know.” You challenged him, eyes meeting his, unblinking, unwavering. Time spent with the richest man in town had given you some confidence of your own, an unflinching boldness when faced with stares in restaurants, whispers in crowded bars. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“Honey,” Steve tried, reaching for your hand. You moved back, out of his reach. He tried another approach, softer, sweeter. “Baby, c’mon. I’m sorry, alright? I am. I shouldn’t have acted like that at the party.”

He was right, he shouldn’t have. So you nodded but kept away, standing stiff and tense as you decided whether you should ask what you wanted to. You crossed your arms, a protective stance, and tried to sound braver than you felt. “Why wasn’t Eddie allowed to kiss me?”

Steve stared at you before he scoffed, setting the roses on your car roof before he shoved his hands into his pockets. His face became passive, a mask, a shield, the one he used on business calls and during luncheons with shareholders in his fathers companies. “So that’s what we’re doing now, huh? Kissing other people in front of each other?”

You could feel your frustration rising to the surface, bubbling and simmering and ready to explode out of you. “Why shouldn’t we? You said it yourself, we’re not together. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Steve avoided the question, eyes flashing instead and he swiped a hand over his face, through his hair. “Honey, please, like you wouldn't throw a fit if I took someone out to dinner, hm? If you found out I’d been taking someone else to nice restaurants and—”

“How do I know that’s not happening already!” You shot back, almost too loud. Mr and Mrs Lewinsky were walking arm and arm to their Mercedes, glancing over to the corner you car was tucked into. Thank god it was dark. You turned back to Steve, face heated. “You leave, like all the time. You’re gone for days and weeks, all over the world with villas and hotel rooms and penthouse apartments. You expect me to believe you don’t have a girl in every city? There’s not another me waiting for you on your living room couch in New York? Monaco? Italy? France? Oh, I’m sorry, do you maybe let them into your bed?”

Steve swore, looking around the parking lot as more people started to flood out now that dinner was over. Valets were moving cars down to the door and you could hear the voice of Frederick bidding guests goodbye. He held his hand out, “give me your keys.”

You stared at him, face screwed up. “What?”

“I said,” Steve repeated calmly, “give me your keys and get in the car.”

You scoffed, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. And you’re not driving my fucking car.”

“I’m not having this conversation here,” Steve muttered and his voice was annoyed. “Either get in and let me drive or I’m marching you across the lot to my own car and you can wave to your boss at the same time.”

Annoyance pricked at your skin, a thousand needles of anger that made your back stiffen and your eyes narrow. “You drive like a fucking formula one wannabe,” you hissed, but still you threw your keys at his chest and marched round to the passenger seat, not caring to see if he caught them or not. “You fuck up my wheels, you’re buying me new alloys, Steve.”

Steve threw himself into the driver's seat and laughed meanly, lifting the bouquet of roses and throwing them into the backseat. Petals scattered everywhere. He slammed the door with the same amount of aggression as you did and once you were seated, he turned to you and smiled too sweetly. “Honey, I’ll buy you a new goddamn car, okay? Put your seatbelt on.”

You sat, stubborn, arms crossed and staring out the window. Your seatbelt remained unfastened. Steve revved the engine and despite the headlights stopping them from seeing who was behind the wheel of the beat up old Volkswagen, they were still staring. 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Just, get us out of here, god.”

“Seatbelt,” Steve repeated. You didn’t move and he tutted. “Where did my good girl go, huh?” He leaned over you and you remained passive, even when his breath was on your jaw and his hand slid around your hip as he did the belt for you. “You used to be so good at doing what you were told.”

“I’m not your girl,” you reminded him, smiling in a way that was anything but friendly. You felt dead behind the eyes, nothing but annoyance when you looked at Steve right then. “Remember?”

Steve grunted, swearing under his breath as he pulled away too fast and the wheels screeched as he sped out of the clubhouse parking lot. He hit sixty on the country roads at the back of Hawkins, screaming past the lake before he pulled off the road, just as you were ready to tell him off. He parked up in an empty lot, nothing but dirt and trees and a view of the water tower in the distance. 

“There’s no other girls,” he said, breaking the silence. It was easier not to yell in the dark, in the closeness of the front of the car, where everything felt intimately softer than before. 

“What?” You scrunched your face, mostly in disbelief as you tried to recall what you had yelled at him before he drove your car away from the scene. 

“There aren’t any girls in other cities. There’s no one fucking waiting for me in Monaco, or, or Cannes, or L.A, no one, okay?”

You scoffed, disbelieving and you unclipped your seatbelt so you could lean against the door, facing him. Steve was still gripping the wheel with one hand, another swiping tiredly over his face, but for what it was worth, he looked sincere. But still, annoyance and the lingering feeling of rejection clawed in your stomach, an awful, ugly thing that made you sneer. 

“Whatever, you really expect me to believe that? The front page of the Hawkins Post ran a damn article about how your new yacht had a mirrored ceiling in one of the bedrooms.” You laughed meanly, sadly, hoping your voice didn’t crack. “Okay, Hugh Hefner, excuse me if I don’t buy your bullshit.”

Steve groaned again, a long suffering thing and he pulled at his sweater sleeves, rolling them up his forearms until his watch face glinted in the light of the moon. “Fine, okay, yeah, I used to! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

No, it wasn’t. 

“Had a girl for each damn arm, alright? But I haven’t— I haven’t—” Steve swallowed and you watched the harsh way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the furrow in his brow deepen. He didn’t look at you when he said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

It was a surprise, that was for sure. And what was even more startling, was the fact that you believed him, you truly did. Gone was the businessman facade, the smooth tone of voice that made you call him Mr Harrington. Instead there was a young man in front of you who was doing his best to make you understand. 

“I don’t do relationships, honey, you knew that,” Steve said and he sounded almost sad. “I don’t kiss girls and hope they fall in love with me, I don’t bring them home and take to my bed and let them believe we’ll wake up together in the morning and fuckin’ cuddle.”

You blinked away tears, angry, upset, frustrated tears that burned the corners of your eyes. You sniffed, annoyed, venomous. “Fine. I’m far from declaring my undying adoration for you Steve, don’t worry. But you don’t then get to decide who I get to kiss if you don’t wanna do it yourself.”

Steve stiffened then, turning to you with an angry flash in his eyes and hard set to his jaw. He narrowed his gaze at you and shook his head. “Don’t test me, honey.”

You scoffed, defiant. “Whatever. Take me home, you can walk back to your car.”

“I’m not done talking,” Steve frowned and he couldn’t believe it when you simply laughed and got out of the car. He jumped out after you, bewildered at the sight of you walking through mud and the littering of fallen leaves in your clubhouse uniform, heels and all. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Walking,” you shot back, “what does it look like!” 

“Get in the damn car,” Steve said your name and it sounded like a warning, “it’s pitch fuckin’ black out here.”

You didn’t turn around though, arms crossed right across your chest because you’d left your coat in your locker like an idiot. “Then I’ll find a pay phone, call for a ride. Maybe Eddie will come get me.” It was a cheap blow, but it did exactly what it was supposed to. 

The sound of heavy feet marching up behind you, a hand on your arm to stop you from moving and then Steve was in front of you, face scrunched in anger, in frustration. He held your shoulders, slipped his wide hands down the length of your arms until he eased them from your chest and held your fingers between his. 

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Steve asked, his voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He seemed to unravel slightly, a panic in his tone that you’d never heard before. “I— I take you out, I treat you good, right? But you presents ‘n’ pretty things, fuckin’ flowers and shoes and dresses and take you to restaurant openings, parties and, and—”

“I don’t want any of that, Steve!” You yelled, eyes wide. You felt too hot despite the cold night. “I never wanted any of that! I didn’t ask for it.” You blew out a breath but you didn’t drop his hands. “I appreciated it, all of it, I did. I do. But I didn’t need any of that! I enjoyed being with you.”

Steve shook his head at you, lips parted and a look of confusion on his face. Like he’d never been told such a thing before. “So, so what? You want Eddie? None of that, but you want Eddie, is that it?”

You huffed, head thrown back in exasperation and you counted to three, staring at the stars blinking back at you in the night sky and you wondered what you were doing here, you wondered what cruel twist of fate led you to sit down with Steve Harrington that night in the lounge. 

“No,” you eventually said, calmer than you’d sounded before. “No, I don’t want Eddie. God, Steve, I wanted you, alright? This whole time, just you. Not your money, or your cars or your houses or anything else. Just you. I wanted to hold your hand and go on dates. Somewhere stupid and lame like the movies, or, or a drive through for a cheap burger and shake. I wanted you to kiss me goodnight and kiss me good morning and maybe, I don’t know,  have sex with me on a mattress like a normal couple.”

You sniffed, willing away the tears that came with your speech. You weren’t prepared to cry over a man who didn’t want you the way you wanted him. But you watched Steve’s expression fall, a crumpled thing that made him look young and boyish. He dropped your hands only to move closer and cup your face instead, his thumb soothing over your bottom lip like he could will your upset away. You watched his gaze fall to your mouth, following the movements his thumb made across the seam of your lips like he wanted to put his against yours. His lips parted and he looked pained. 

“I’m not asking you to fucking marry me, Steve, but god, why won’t you at least kiss me? Am I that much of a throw away toy for you that you won’t even—”

“Because if I kiss you, I’ll fucking fall in love with you, okay!” Steve barked out, sudden and rushed and panicked sounding. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, letting his hands fall to your neck, his head falling forward. “God.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. 

“You don’t think I know I can get any girl I want?” Steve laughed and it sounded powerful, it sounded like money. “Honey, I walked into the club that day and saw your pretty face and knew I was fucked.” Steve lifted his head so you could see him again, lips parted in surprise at his admission but he just smiled. He brought a hand back to your cheek, smoothed a thumb over the apple of it, down the line of your jaw. “So I told myself I could just have some with you, see how good you looked without that uniform on, maybe spoil you a little and whatnot.”

“You’re a pig,” you told him but you didn’t move away. 

“I know,” Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t looking for a wife honey, I just loved the way you got all huffy with me, how sweet you’d get when I got my hands on you.” Steve dragged his thumb down your neck, pressed lightly and watched the way you tilted your chin up for him. “You’re just so fucking pretty.”

“But then you had to get under my skin didn’t you? Thought about you all the goddamn time and couldn’t look at any other girl without seeing your face instead.” Steve tsked, walked you backwards until you were against the side of your car and pressed against him. “Hated it at first, you know. Tried to stay away for longer than I needed to, but shit, got back into town and went straight to the club to see you. There you were, pretty as ever and chewing me out for being gone too long, callin’ me Mr Harrington like you knew it would get me so fuckin’ hot for you.”

Steve grinned when you whined, a knee jerk response to the way he was sliding a hand around your upper thigh, up under the hem of your dress and your head hit the door of your car with a dull thud. “Ate at Michelin star restaurants all ‘round the world, honey, but I’ve never tasted anything as good as you, you know that?” He was on your throat now, mouthing up it, licking a line along your neck until he could nip at your jaw. “Want you, all the time. Just you. It drives me fucking insane and I dunno what to do.”

You felt the fight leave you and you hated yourself for it, feeling weaker every time Steve put his mouth on your skin and his nose was pressed to your cheek now, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing at the dough do your ass under your dress, pulling up the hem of it to expose you to the cool air and it was all filthy. It was all exactly why you entered into this whole situation in the first place. Steve Harrington - money and family name or not - made you feel like you were on fucking fire. 

So you grabbed at him, tried to fight back in other ways, with fingers in his hair so you could tug him down and let him latch his mouth to your neck. He scraped his teeth along the column of it, groaning when you pulled meanly. Steve swore, licking over the bruise he’d marked you with, a pink-red bloom on your skin that would remind you of him even days later. His nose bumped yours as he leaned down to you, crowding you against the car and up against his chest and you were panting, waiting for it, feeling the way he let his nose graze yours, a teasing back and forth that left his mouth hovering over yours. 

“Get in the back,” Steve whispered and it was a quiet order, a soft demand, one that you knew you’d bend to because you were soaked, clit pulsing against the lace of your underwear, and shit, Steve knew that too. 

But it didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. 

“No,” you argued back. You didn’t mean it, this was foreplay. This was everything that got Steve a little hot under the collar, the way you played pretend and tried to get your own way. “You can fuck me here, ‘gainst the door.”

Steve laughed and he pressed the sound into your cheek, teeth against your skin and he pushed a kiss there, a smattering of them as his hands went back under your dress and he pulled down your underwear with the tips of his fingers. He let them fall to the ground, not bothering to pick them up. 

“Get in the car, honey. Front or back, you decide, but either way you’re gonna ride me, okay?” Steve told you and that big, bad businessman voice was back, the one that made your toes curl and your cunt ache. Sweet, syrupy, demanding. He brought a hand between your thighs and cupped you, groaning at the heat and the slick that coated his fingers as he swept them through your folds. “She’s missed me,” he cooed, not asking but telling. Like it was a fact. 

“This is the last time,” you told him and it felt like you were trying to tell yourself that too. “We don’t want the same things, fuck—” you were cut off on a gasp when Steve circled your clit, his gaze heavy and dark as he leaned in and let his forehead touch yours. “S’all gonna end in a mess.”

“In the car, honey,” Steve reminded you, neither agreeing or arguing with your words. There wasn’t any point. You both knew this wasn’t the end. “C’mon, be a good girl for me.”

So you stepped out of your underwear and left them lying, like some sick white flag, a symbol of surrender as you pushed Steve away and opened the back door, sliding over the seats as Steve joined you. The door clicked shut and silence took over, the dark and heavy kind that came with the late night, the one that carried a special type of tension and it filled the whole space, it fizzed and crackled in the air between you and it made you fucking breathless. 

You watched with a tight chest as Steve sat back in the middle  seat, already looking wrecked, his hair a mess from your greedy fingers. He spread his legs as much as he could in the tight space and he nodded to his lap, where you could already see the outline of his dick pressed under the denim. “Sit,” he said. 

Not feeling as ready to argue anymore, you listened to the throbbing between your legs and obeyed, the top of your head grazing the car roof as you slid onto Steve’s lap, thighs spread over his in a way that made you burn that white-blue type of hot, because your dress was too short and your underwear was still outside. He could see everything when you looked down, hem of your uniform flirting too high, the dirty spread of you on display. Even in the low light he could see you shine, wet and ready, all for him. 

But Steve kept his hands on the seats, practically lounging as he tilted his head back to look at you from where you were perched on top of him. He studied you, like a piece of art he was ready to buy. His eyes found yours before his gaze dropped to your nose, your cheeks, the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck. Then he found your lips, parted and wanting, the tip of your tongue peeking from between as if you were just dying for something to taste. 

Maybe his fingers, you liked that. The heavy feel of them on your tongue so you could suck on them while he fucked you slow. Maybe his neck, right where it met his shoulder, that almost always bruised piece of skin that you bit down on when you came, riding Steve’s cock somewhere you shouldn’t and you had to keep quiet. Maybe you wanted his dick, too big to take all of it, but the stretch of your jaw and the hot slide of it over your tongue made you rock your hips against nothing, especially when Steve was feeling extra sweet and swept his hands over your face when you sucked him off, thumbing at the corners of your full mouth as he told you how pretty you looked. 

But he offered none of those. No. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “what do you want?”

You looked at him, a question mark on your face, just able to see the shine of his eyes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw in the dark. His hands remained by his sides. “What?”

Steve smiled, just a small thing. “I said, what do you want?”

“You,” you answered shyly, only after a beat or two of quiet. You kept it deliberately vague, leaving it to the boy to decipher if that meant sex or more. Or both. “I want you, Steve.”

“You don’t want my money,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He knew that already. “Not interested in where I could take you, what I could buy you. No,” Steve's voice grew warmer, softer, fond. “Told you before, didn’t I? I know my girl just wants fucked.”

You squirmed, nodding. Because if this was the last time, you’d make sure you enjoyed it. But then Steve did something even more unexpected. He let his hands settle on your thighs, still a little cold from being outside and you hissed at the slide of them going upupup. He didn’t touch your cunt though, didn’t let his fingers play with you like he usually did. 

“C’mere,” he asked instead. “Close your eyes, yeah?”

Your brows stitched together at his request. You were hardly a stranger to blindfolds and surprises, but this didn’t seem like the time or place. 

“You trust me?” Steve whispered and his gaze was on your lips, waiting. 

It didn’t take you long to nod, because yes, despite it all, despite Steve’s issues with… commitment, you did trust him. You believed him about the other girls, about everything. 

“Good girl. Close your eyes,” Steve asked again and you did. 

The car seemed smaller with one sense gone. Eyes shut and Steve so near. You could feel his warmth, the way he moved into you a little more, closer than before until his breath was fanning over your mouth and chin and his nose was bumping yours. Your stomach tumbled. 

“I can’t promise you anything,” he whispered into you. You could feel his lips moving, a barely there ghost against your own. His touch felt like a secret. “I don’t know how— how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ve never done that. But I can try, if you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure when your own hands had moved but they were fisting the front of Steve’s sweater. The letters for Harvard crushed in your palms and you were holding on for dear life. 

“You said this was the last time,” Steve murmured and you wanted to open your eyes, you wanted to stare him down and challenge him but you did as he asked. You kept your eyes closed. “Is this the last time, baby?”

Baby. 

“Or are you gonna give me a chance? I’ll do my best for you, I swear, I’ll try,” Steve’s mouth was moving over your cheek, kisses pressed there between each word until he was mouthing along your jaw and chin and you were weak, sitting on top of him and feeling like you could melt. “I’ll try for you, honey, don’t wanna lose you. Don’t want you with someone else.”

He was talking faster now, like there was an urgency there that wasn’t before and his hands were skimming up from your thighs to squeeze at your waist before his palms were cupping your jaw and pulling you to him. His lips touched yours, only just and you gasped like you’d been burned. Steve kept you there, panting hard, his own eyes closed now and his brow furrowed. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered and his voice cracked. Gone was the businessman. He smelled like mint toothpaste and cologne, like sunscreen. “We can stop this here and I’ll let you go and we can pretend we never met, if that’s what you want.”

You only clung to him tighter, one hand trailing blindly up his neck until you could pull at the longer hairs there and hold him. You made a noise of protest, tears lining your lashes as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut tighter so they’d stay in. You shook your head, nose brushing Steve’s, lips moving over his so, so briefly. 

“I don’t want to stop.”

You weren’t sure what you thought your first kiss with Steve Harrington would be like. You’d thought about it a lot, sure. But it was usually in the heat of the moment, when he was inching inside of you, hips slapping against your own, your fingers tight in his hair and whispering filthy things to each other. You thought he’d kiss you like that, hard and fast and messy, with a dirty lick of his tongue. But Steve moved slowly, almost shy. He hesitated as he brought his thumb over your cheek, a brief touch before he was closing the gap and meeting your lips with his. 

It was slow, careful. Soft. A gentle thing and Steve exhaled shakily, his breath fanning over your cheek as he tilted his head and let you press closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours as the kiss deepened and when you let out a soft noise of appreciation, the boy groaned and his hands fell to your waist, squeezing and pulling you closer still. 

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. 

Steve pulled away only briefly for you both to suck in a breath, his lips finding yours again until the kiss turned into the kind you’d thought about, a messy, dirty thing that had you whining into his open mouth, tugging at his hair until he let you swallow each groan. Steve’s eyes were closed when he spoke, chest heaving, words a low, rough rasp and his hands were under your dress now, fingertips skimming up the inside of your thighs until you were squirming. 

“Want it, honey? Yeah?” Steve was mouthing over your jaw, kissing at your cheek as you panted, pulling at his belt buckle until you could free his cock from his boxers. He sounded drunk, wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, c’mon, take it. S’all yours.”

Steve let his head fall back, resting on the back seat of the car, eyes hooded as he watched you. You didn’t waste any time, pulling at the button of his jeans until you had enough room to free his cock. He was already hard, leaking for you, his breath hitching when you wrapped a small hand around him and pumped once, twice. You swiped a thumb over the tip, dragged the slick back down the length of him and leaned in, intent on making Mr. Steve fucking Harrington, business man, millionare, poker winner, car collector, fall apart for you.

Your nose slid against and your bottom lip brushed his, a teasing thing that you managed to not give into, even when Steve's lips chased yours. He’d made you wait months for a kiss, he could wait another minute or two. You pumped his cock again, fisting it a little tighter, the way you’d learned that he’d liked. He was quick to pant into your mouth, lips catching yours when he titled his chin up for you.

“Tell me it’s mine,” you coaxed, voice low and sweet, just the way Steve loved to speak to you. You palmed his cock, voice sugar. “Tell me this is mine.”

Steve’s hands swept up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin, grip bordering on too tight, a possessive touch. He was breathing heavily, the windows in the car starting to steam up, condensation running tracks down the glass. “S’yours,” he slurred, drunk sounding, softer than ever. “S’your cock, honey, promise.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, rutting yourself against Steve’s thigh as you touched him, foreheads pressed together, lips catching against each other and it pulled a moan from both of you when you raised up on your knees. Dirty, wet noises filled the car as you ran the head of his cock through your folds and Steve dragged your dress up, pushing the material over your hip so he could watch you sink down onto him, taking every inch.

He helped you bounce, up and down, up and down before you started a lazy roll of your hips, grinding down against the boy until you were pulling on his hair and whining into the crook of his neck. It was all too much and Steve’s hand grabbed at the nape of your neck, hand fisting in your own hair, bordering on too tight but he brought your face back to his, eyes half lidded as he gazed at you and pleaded: “shit, honey, kiss me? Kiss me, please, fuck-- m’gonna come.”

His neediness made you groan, a pitchy, breathy noise that Steve soon swallowed, your lips melting between his as he caught you in a kiss, open mouthed and possessive, teeth and tongues as he came. His hips bucked up as you rode him harder and the boy let go of your hair to cup your jaw, his free hand falling to rub at your clit with two fingers, white hot pleasure shooting up your spine. You fell into him, letting Steve catch you and you kissed him, eyes glassy, squeezed shut, your mouth on his as you both came hard. You felt Steve’s cock twitch, spilling into you as he kissed you, chest heaving against yours and as your hips slowed, so did his kisses, softer, kinder.

“You okay?” he breathed, breath fanning over your lips, your cheeks, your gaze blurry and unfocused. “Baby, you with me?”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

You nodded, nose knocking against his but you didn’t dare pull away. You didn’t want to. And by the looks of things, Steve wasn’t ready to let you go either. His hands soothed over your hair, pushing back the stray strands that clung to your damp forehead, your warm cheeks. He was still inside of you, softening only slightly, a mix of you both spilling over your thighs. It was dirty, filthy, it was the most tender thing you’d experienced with him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, cheeks flushed, his eyes shining. He looked drunk, he looked as gone as you felt, his hands roaming over you, touching every piece of bare skin he came across, palming greedily at your hips, your thighs, your ass. He dotted a line of kisses from your neck to your cheek, nosing there until you lifted your chin for him and kissed his lips, sighing as you did. “So fuckin’ good for me, all the time, huh? My girl, fuck, you’re so pretty, so, so pretty.”

You lazed against him, soaking up his touch, his words, the insane feel of his lips over your skin, your throat, chasing your lips until you pressed into him, opening your mouth when he did, tongues brushing over each other in languid strokes. Steve kissed like he fucked, like he wanted you to feel every part, like he wanted you to remember it for days.

“Come home w’me,” he murmured into your lips, never leaving them, never stopping his kisses. Steve whispered between words, hummed happily when your hands clasped his cheeks, when your fingers trailed over the stubble on his jaw. “Come back to mine, please. We can talk ‘bout everything. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, I’ll wake up beside you. Please.”

Your heart stopped at the idea of it all. The intimacy you hadn’t been given yet. The thought of Steve talking to you about something as serious and long term as a relationship. No dropping you home after five orgasms, kissing the back of your hand as he dropped you at your apartment at three am. No running off to an airport, no flights, no meetings, no business calls to interrupt. 

“You can’t cook,” is what you said, voice muffled by his shoulder, the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck. 

Steve scoffed, laughing even though you could hear the nerves there. He nosed at your cheek until you emerged, a hand wrapping gently around your neck, thumb pushed to the underside of your chin so you’d meet his gaze and the sincerity there took your breath away. You were still on his lap, his softening cock still inside of you but neither of you made the move to unravel from the other.

“I mean it,” he whispered and in the quiet of the night it was like you could hear his heartbeat. A thumpthumpthump that rattled the air between you, but fuck, maybe that was your own. “Come home with me, honey. I wanna-- I wanna make this right.”

-------

The next morning, Steve woke you up with his lips on your cheek, a soft, cautious thing that you leaned into even half asleep. Your bare chest pressed to his, your legs stretching out alongside the boy’s. You turned, arms needling around Steve’s neck so you could find his lips with yours, mouths searching, needy, suddenly desperate even with half closed eyes. 

“Morning,” you murmured.

“Mornin’, honey,” Steve whispered back and you couldn’t see with your closed eyes but the boy was smiling, soft and proud and fond. 

You were right, the night before, in the car. Steve didn’t cook. So after a shared shower where you let Steve hook your leg over his shoulder and kiss at your cunt until you came on his tongue - his eyes on your the entire time, his nose squished all pretty against your pussy as he came in his own fist, the waterfall shower raining down on you both - Steve took you out for breakfast.

Dressed in a pair of his running shorts that you had to roll up and one of his hoodies that had a tiny Yves Saint Laurent logo on the chest, you were relieved to find a pair of sneakers in your trunk. You’d mumbled that you’d looked ridiculous, but Steve had just used your embarrassment to kiss you again, hands on your cheeks and pulling you to him in the driveway. 

He got to take his car instead of yours, only because you got to choose where to eat. 

So Steve Harrington drove you both from his three story townhouse in his shiny BMW to a Mom and Pop’s just out of town. He held your hand across the parking lot, held the door open for you and plucked at his sweater collar to pull you in for a kiss over the table, red leather seats sticking to his expensive jeans. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, didn’t mutter about missing out on eggs benedict and caviar at the clubhouse because here, he got to kiss you all he wanted.

And it was worth it, to watch the way you softened for him, feet against his under the table, sharing a strawberry milkshake that didn’t really go with the hashbrowns and bacon you’d ordered. It was worth it, to leave his pager at home, to ignore the incessant beeping, emails pinging in his office about flights, meetings, business deals, money, shares, stocks. 

Steve was realising it was all worth it, to have you. 

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life 

Three Years Later.

The sway of the boat made you feel weightless. A miracle really, considering how heavy you actually felt. The italian sun warmed your skin, mostly bare from your bikini, straps slipping down your shoulders as you lay flat on a lounger, sunglasses covering your eyes from the harsh blue skies above.

The water was the same colour, the gentle lap of the ocean on the sides making you sleepy. The bustle of the city was barely heard, Monaco in the distance as the yacht bobbed just outside of the harbour. Despite its size, The Smart Girl hardly had anyone on board. You were on the deck, catching the last of the day’s sun, with a few staff members milling around. And Steve? Steve was in one of the rooms he’d made into his office from home, a big oak desk taking up most of the space and he’d sit for hours taking calls, pouting at you from the open door as he tried to coax you in to sit on his lap. You’d always refuse, stretching out on your lounger, bikini top riding up, giving him a show until he could string enough words together to make an excuse to whatever big shot millionaire was on the other end of the line.

“There’s my baby.”

The lounger dipped as Steve pushed a knee to the cushion, crowding over you, leaning in to greet you with a kiss, tasting like aperol and oranges. You hummed into him, salt on both of your lips from the sun, the sea. Steve kissed your cheek too, moving down to nuzzle at your neck as his hand skimmed over your belly, the slight swell of it making your red bikini bottoms stretch out.

“And my other baby,” Steve cooed cupping your growing tummy. 

“You said an hour, tops,” you complained but there wasn’t any heat behind it. It was hard to be annoyed about Steve leaving you to your own devices when the Mediterranean sea was rocking you to sleep. “No more business, right?”

Steve smirked at your bossiness, nodding as he leaned back down to ghost some kisses along your shoulder, he nipped at your jaw and hummed. “No more business, honey. M’all yours.”

The trip was supposed to be a babymoon of sorts, even though you were only a few months into your pregnancy and you were sure Steve would whisk you off somewhere else warm and sunny as the months passed. But he’d promised no business, no meetings and when the chance to join a conference call with the owner of the city's most prestigious club arose, Steve caved. 

“I’ll buy you somethin’ pretty to make up for it,” he’d told you and you’d tried to act huffy but after three years together, the man saw right through you. 

“How’d the call go?” You asked him, eyeing him greedily as he popped some buttons on his shirt, the white linen falling open to show off sunkissed skin, the gold chain around his neck. 

Steve slipped his sunglasses from his pocket onto his nose, made sure to wink at you over the frame of them so you knew he saw your appreciative gaze. He stretched out next to you, one of the staff members appearing - Paul - with a tray of lemon water and glasses as he got comfy. “It went well,” he smiled his thanks to Paul and gave you a class, coaxing you to drink up. “We scheduled another call for when we’re back home to iron out some details. I told him my pretty wife would have me thrown overboard if I took any longer.”

Steve grinned when you frowned. “I wouldn’t do that,” you mumbled. “I’d just yell at you for a bit.”

Steve leaned in, still smiling, nosing along your jawline as his hand plucked at the flimsy strap of your bikini. “You know that would just get me all hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your smile in his neck, tipping it back to let Steve kiss the skin there. He still smelled like he did when you first met him, the same expensive cologne, sunscreen and the Italian countryside. “You make me sound so bossy,” you murmured, meeting him for a kiss. 

“You are,” Steve whispered, his hand back on your tummy, his thumb running over the bump in soft circles. “M’whipped, remember?” He held up his other hand, the band on his ring finger glinting in the sun. 

“You complained when Eddie said it,” you teased. 

“That’s ‘cause Eddie’s a dick,” Steve shot back but it was light hearted. “Speaking of, I promised him we’d meet him for dinner when we got back. I know it’s not your favourite but—”

“The clubhouse?” You groaned, pouting. “Really?”

“He loves the steak tartare there, honey, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I was fired from there—” you reminded him, voice surly. 

“You’re a member there,” Steve quipped back. He kissed your palm, over your knuckles, lips grazing the diamond on your finger. 

“—after my boss caught you going down on me in the ladies changing rooms,” you continued, cheeks still hot at the memory even if it was years ago. You’d never forget the expression on Frederick’s face. “I can’t look that man in the eye, never mind order dinner from him.”

“Fun times,” Steve smirked. “Don’t you love being able to click your fingers at the man who made your life hell? Order the most expensive champagne with all your money?”

You whined, a fake complaint as Steve manhandled you into his lap, letting you lie between his legs, your back resting his chest. He was warm from the sun, strong, solid. “I don’t click my fingers at anyone, Harrington. It’s rude. And it’s not my money, I’m unemployed. I’m basically a leech,” you pouted up at him, all faux dramatics. 

Steve snorted at your words before leaning down, skimming his lips over your hairline, his hands, wide and warm, cupping the swell of your tummy. “You’re not unemployed, you’re on maternity leave. And studying. No woman of mine is working while she’s growing our baby,” he kissed your nose when you tilted your chin up to him, smiling. “And what’s mine is yours, Harrington,” he shot back. 

“Your woman?” You raised your brows at his words. 

“My favourite one,” Steve whispered. He was still all charm, even after the years had passed. His voice grew softer then, fingers trailing up your ribs. “Can’t wait to take you home - both of you - get settled, build a crib, paint a nursery.”

“You’re not building a crib,” you laughed, eyes shining. It was easy, it was wonderful, being this is love. This happy. “Have you even held a hammer before, Steve?”

He responded by nipping at your neck, enticing a squeal from you, a choked laugh. “You’re incredibly rude, Mrs Harrington, I’ll let you know I have, actually.”

You turned in his arms, kneeling between his thighs and you watched as his eyes darkened, gaze trailing over the way your breasts pushed out, the way your thighs pressed themselves together. “That’s not important,” he answered tartly and he grinned when you snorted. 

The new house back in Indiana was modest, by Steve’s standards. But he’d let you choose, a family home that was built in the 1800’s with big, bay windows, original cornicing and a fireplace in each bedroom. A perfect family home, with more rooms in it than you could’ve ever imagined having.

It had been easier than you’d thought, to get here. With Steve Harrington, married and with a baby on the way. Not that you’d expected it, not back then. But weeks turned into months and months turned into years, your first anniversary sailing by without much issue. There were arguments, forlorn phone calls when Steve left for business and you had to work, shouting matches when the boy came home and tried to get you to quit work altogether, ‘cause you didn’t need a wage when you had him, right?

But he was quick to compromise, when it came to you. Kissing away your upset, swapping expensive gifts for genuine apologies, your favourite flowers that came by the handful instead of the boxes of hundred dollar bouquets made by someone else. Was he smug about it when the job at The Lake House came to an end? Sure. Too smug, maybe, considering he gave a half assed apology to Frederick with your lipstick trailed across his cheek and jaw. But he supported you - celebrated you - when you got a new position in a paralegal’s office, picking back up your textbooks that you once had to abandon. 

There was a big bed to share now, a wardrobe that held both your clothes, suits and silk dresses, your old sweaters, Steve’s knitwear that was practically all yours. Your toothbrush next to his, your vinyls next to his record player, a stocked fridge with all the ingredients for his favourite meals, ready for you to reach him how to cook. There was sex, holidays, hotels, more sex, nights on the sofa with blankets and movies, a diamond, Steve in the driver's seat in the parking lot of that Mom ‘n’ Pops diner, the ring clutched between his shaky fingers as he told you how much he loved you. A pregnancy test, staring back at you both from the bathroom vanity, a year after the wedding in Cannes, the honeymoon in the Maldives. 

Unplanned, yes? Unexpected, definitely. Did it make you both overwhelmingly excited? More than you could express. 

Steve took your chin in his hand, pulling you in, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip, his eyes growing softer when you kissed at it. “Are you happy?” he whispered.

“With you?” you answered, smiling. “Always.

[ghostsfruit]

So.

I could be so wrong about this but I gotta get it out of my head.

Vincent and Rody would make a slightly better pairing than Manon and Rody-

HEAR ME OUT.

The reason why Manon broke up with Rody was because of the fact that he was far too self-sacrificing in thier relationship. Which like GOOD FOR HER, THAT AIN'T GOOD-

But when you take a look at Vincent's actions, he's just as self sacrificing, just in a lot more of a brutal way. Going out of his way to KILL PEOPLE just to make some food that Rody would enjoy. The same way that Rody would constantly want to get money to get Manon things to keep her in his life.

It wouldn't be HEALTHY, both of them being far too self-sacrificing and just obsessive, but it makes sense for them since their both the same level of batshit over whoever they feel either romantic to [or have a general wanting to impress, like Vince with wanting to make food for Rody]

[botwstoriesandsuch]

HEYA WHO WANTS TO LEARN ABOUT GRASS AND VOLCANOES

Yes I'm alive and yes I'm making posts and music again. Ok so moving on HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GRASS???

This patch of grass is from a Youtube video by Quincyvhs ranking grass in Tears of the Kingdom. He's a cool guy and has a similar video on Breath of the Wild and I highly recommend you watch it cause his editing is very cool.

HOWEVER. He made an egregious error today by ranking this patch of grass, this lovely, magnificent, extraordinary patch of grass upon Death Mountain as a mere B Tier. It clearly is an S Tier.

How do I know this? Well this patch of grass indicates miracles. It indicates determination. It indicates the spirit of adventure, of change, of liberty and mayhaps even the purest form of happiness the world round...

...and as later corroborated by the actual geologist that I am dating, it is an indication of the massive shift in Hyrule's ecosystem and climate.

Let's Begin.

Using my ace detective skills I have located the site in question in both Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom (Botw and Totk). The general consensus is that there is a 5~ year time gap between the two games.

Given that the grass does not exist here in Botw, this means that this patch of grass took at maximum 5 years to grow. However, I'm going to prove that it probably took even less time than even that.

Below is the site on Botw's Map:

We are unable to get an accurate temperature reading of the area because the Sheikah Slate decided to give up. So we're going to use science to determine this soon to be important number

Given that wood near instantly ignites at this location in Botw, we can conclude that the temperature in the air is around 370 degrees Celcius or 700 degrees Fahrenheit.

Now typically, rock and soil serve as good insulators of heat, so the air temperature around a volcano itself isnot usually that much higher than the ambient temperature (unless you are actively within a Pyroclastic flow, which would be a more pressing problem than analyzing grass to say the least)

However, when near the presence of lava, that temperature of the air can actually reach up to 1000 degrees Celcius (1800F) so this reading is actually even more reasonable when you note that we are in good distance of the Medingo Lava Pool.

Conversely, we can actually grab an active temperature reading of the area during the time of Totk thanks to the Purah Pad.

It's 102 degrees Fahrenheit.

Easy. Simple. Fantastic. I love when my job doesn't require four hours of research for every single question!

Anyhow, here are some figures from the Oregon State Volcanology Laboratory on the rate of lava cooling

Yes this post is still about grass, stay with me.

To truly appreciate the glory of science and the glory of this patch of grass, we are going to calculate the exact amount of time needed for the temperatures to lower on Death Mountain to one sustanable for growth (That being around 100 degrees Farenheit).

SPOILER ALERT: It takes less than 5 years. This is insanely impressive considering grass of this type* typically takes DECADES.

Anyhow, The Figure 2 and 3 have to do with the depth of the lava, and Figure 4 deals with the thickness. (Many thanks again to my partner for providing their geological expertise and resources)

The thickness of the Medingo Lava is very easy to calculate given that Link can literally jump in with a splash and drown in it like the world's worst hot tub--the bitch ain't thick at all. So we use the lowest listed reading for that.

The depth of the lava is more tricky, but comparing the lava pool in Botw and Totk, and using Link as a marker of around 5 feet, we can say that the pool is around 10 feet deep.

Therefore, the Medingo Lava Pool took around 2-3 years to cool after Death Mountain stopped erupting.

Now when exactly did Death Mountain stop erupting?

According to the catalog of Volcanoes of the World by the Smithsonian Institution, 93% of volcanos stop erupting within 3 years.

Now I know that Death Mountain only started erupting because of the return of the Divine Beast Vah Rudania, and Link only "stops" the eruption of Death Mountain by defeating it. So one could argue that Death Mountain's "eruption" had to be less than a year or something.

My rebuttal to that would be 1) Within the game's canon, I don't see how we could justify Link taking one day, or even one month to wake up from the Great Plateau, travel immeidately all the way to Death Mountain. and then tame the Divine Beast in less than a month, and 2) Link didn't really stop shit because we can clearly still see active lava flow after taming Rudania. He only stopped the rock falls caused by the Divine Beast, the actual activity of Death Mountain still continues.

Given its insane size, I am going to say it took the full 3 years for its active lava flow to stop on Death Mountain. Volconologists in the notes, feel free to correct me.

SO! The Timeline is:

3 years for Death Mountain to stop actively flowing

2 years minimum for Medingo Lava Pool to cool

= >1 year for temperatures to be right for grass to grow!

This is an insanely quick time period for grass to thrive! The literal instant that the conditions were correct, we are able to see not just grass, but stoloniferous grass as well other types of shrubbery thrive! We would usually need several years for the volcanic rock to erode to rich soil (such as the soil in the Akkala region)

Allow me to elaborate:

This is Fountain Grass. Fountain grass is usually the fist type of grass that you would see in a volcanic region. They grow from a rhizome root system, which is a very vertical downward root system as you can see. This is good for young volcanic regions where only specific dotted areas are good enough for plants to grip onto and grow.

They grow something like this:

This patch of grass below I would call some sort of rhizome. (Botanists feel free to correct me in the notes)

THIS. however. (amazingly) is an example of stoloniferous grass!

This is thick bladed grass (as opposed to the more thin, fine-bladed grass with rhizomes) that grow in a stolon spreading pattern that is much more horizontal. It's a lot like the grass that might grow in your front lawn, if you're rich enough to have one of those in this economy--

They grow a bit more like this:

This type of grass need soil! Especially if we want to classify that other red flower behind the rock there as some sort of volcanic flower

We're basically talking about mass, rapid volcanic erosion in less than a year for this to happen. For context, the soil necessary for the region of Akkala to grow could have taken anywhere between a decade to thousands of years. The weather and erosion necessary for this patch of grass to grow took, at most, 3 years.

And all this in the period of time following an actual apocalypse. How quickly the tides have turned for Hyrule's ecosystem!!!!

IT'S A VERY IMPRESSIVE AND COOL PATCH OF GRASS AND THUS IS DESERVING OF THE S TIER RANKING

Also here's some behind the scenes of what my much smarter than me partner had to say about it ["Last pictures referencing the rhizome grass which, indeed, would be the oldest grass among the patch given it needs the least specific conditions to thrive/less soil to get started]

Growth is cool.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

HIIIIII :>

Can I please request Ben, Puppeteer, Masky, Liu, and Ej with a s/o that has a HUUUGE hello kitty obsession?? Like room is COVERED in hello kitty plushies and all that fun stuff

Summary: Ben, Puppeteer, Masky/Tim, Liu and Eyeless Jack whose s/o is obsessed with Hello Kitty (headcanons)

Genre: Fluff!!

Warnings: None!

A/n: IM SO OBSESSED WITH SANRIO MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IS POMPOMPURIN I HAVE THIS GAME ON MY PHONE CALLED HELLO KITTY FRIENDS AND I KID YOU NOT IM SO OBBSESSED WITH THAT GAME THAT WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES TO TRY AND SLEEP I SEE THAT STUPID FUCKING GAME WAHHHHH

Credits: Ben Drowned- Creepypasta, The Puppeteer- Creepypasta, Tim Wright/Masky- Marble Hornets, Homicidal Liu- Creepypasta, Eyeless Jack- Creepypasta, Divider- benkeibear, Pictures- Pinterest

Ben Drowned

Honestly he can't say anything because he's obsessed with Hatsune Miku

He claims its Ironic, but it very obviously isn't

But his obsession with Miku (and vocaloid in general), is NOTHING compared to yours

He loves it though, because it gives you a cute dynamic

Every time he sees anything sanrio related, he thinks of you

It doesn't even have to be Hello Kitty specifically, just any sanrio product

And of course, he HAS to get it for you!

You've gotten sodas, plushies, snacks, earbuds, bags, even wipes

Because of Ben, you have almost anything in a Hello Kitty styled packaging

He likes to "trade" obsessions if that makes sense

For example, you wear a vocaloid shirt and he wears a Hello Kitty shirt

Complimenting each other's interests makes him so happy idk

And he DEFINETLY has some form of Hello Kitty merch himself

Whether it be something that you don't like any more, something you just don't have room for, etc, he has SOMETHING

And it makes him so giddy to know that a little bit of you will always be with him no matter what

Jeff makes fun of him for wearing your old Hello Kitty backpack, but he doesn't care because it smells like you, and it carries everything he needs so perfectly <3

He lobes his hello kitty partner

God forbid you break up, because ANYTHING Sanrio related will send him into a meltdown (fucking weirdo)

The Puppeteer

He's a very obsessive lover, so anything you like, he likes

When he sees your Hello Kitty obsession he immediately begins his research

He will learn all Sanrio characters, all characters closely related Hello Kitty, any lore in the universe, official merch, etc

He will fr pull up dripped tf out in hello kitty merch

The shoes, the pants, the shirt, maybe even a hat

You will giggle and kiss his chin, asking what he's doing

And he will shyly ask if you like it teehee

Your obsession is now OUR obsession

Well, with him it's less obsessed with Hello Kitty itself, more so him obsessed with whatever he thinks will make you like him more

You will literally be cuddling or just hanging out and he'll quote hello kitty to impress you

He's trying his best ok, just kiss him and tell him he's doing good

Masky

Your obsession kind of scares him

Not like, in a "omg this is so unhealthy :(" way, because he literally couldn't care less what you're into

He just gets scared of all the DOLLS

Oh my lord the amount of hello kitty dolls you have freaks him out

It's something about how all of them are the exact same thing, just over and over again

The sheer amount of them combined with the similarities between the dolls just weirds him out and gives him a chill up his spine

Good luck getting him to come into your room

He will refuse to unless you're like, sick or something

Other than that, he will not tolerate it

And this is a brave guy! He doesn't typically get scared of dolls, but idk man hello kitty just ain't it

Despite all this, he still loves getting you gifts with Hello Kitty

He knows how much you like it, and just because it freaks HIM out doesn't mean he's gonna not allow you to enjoy it

He won't actively participate in wearing merch like the other guys

He's definetly more of a "hold your plush bag while you go to the bathroom" type guy

Sorry pookies :(

Homicidal Liu

He doesn't get quite as into it as other's on this list might

He's more of a "Oh well I'm happy you've found something that makes you happy :)"

If you asked him to do something like match outfits he'd accept though!

He loves getting to do things like that with you, little stuff but it makes you both happy

He gives all your plushies different names and personalities

Maybe if you ask him nice enough he'll knit them little clothes and scarves...

He also loves to use the plushies to get what he wants

For example, if he wants to go out with you and you say something along the lines of "but im so tireeed" he'll grab a Kitty plush and begin "talking" to it

"Do you hear this? They say they're too tired to go get yummy food with me" He'll lift the toy up to his ear, nodding as if it's whispering something to him before going "I know! I was thinking we could go to their favorite restaurant too! Such a shame"

You'll scoff and roll your eyes playfully, while he brings the toy to your face making obnoxious kissing noises as if the toy is kissing you

Once your laughter fit dies down, he'll ask if you really just wanna stay home or go out

He will happily accept whatever response you give

Eyeless Jack

He is a lot like Liu when it comes to your obsession

More so just a "Oh good for you :)" type guy

He loves to just show up with random things

For example, he will knock on your door before opening it, and silently waving around a little trinket he thought you'd like

He loves seeing your face light up as you rush to come get the gift and kiss him over and over

It makes him feel extra giddy when he "earns" kisses

So expect a lot of gifts

And if you don't give him a kiss one time, he will pout until you do kiss him

grrr give that boy a smooch he loves them

[pratchettquotes]

"Come and sit where I can see you. That's good manners. And let me tell you right now that I ain't at all afraid of you."

The tall, black-robed figure walked across the floor and sat down on a handy barrel, leaning its scythe against the wall. Then it pushed back its hood.

Granny folded her arms and stared calmly at the visitor, meeting his gaze eye-to-socket.

I AM IMPRESSED.

"I have faith."

REALLY? IN WHAT PARTICULAR DEITY?

"Oh, none of them."

THEN FAITH IN WHAT?

"Just faith, you know. In general."

Death leaned forward. The candlelight raised new shadows on his skull.

COURAGE IS EASY BY CANDLELIGHT. YOUR FAITH, I SUSPECT, IS IN THE FLAME.

Death grinned.

Granny leaned forward, and blew out the candle. Then she folded her arms again and stared fiercely ahead of her.

After some length of time a voice said, ALL RIGHT. YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT.

Terry Pratchett, Maskerade

[presidentbungus]

“What are you looking at so intently?” says Engie like any good Texan boy would, all fluttering eyelashes and blushy grins despite the fact his eyes are behind half a centimeter of tinted glass. Medic puffs out his lips into a little pucker, then smooths back out, and Engie glints with satisfaction at just the lightest dusting of pink that rises to his cheeks.

He makes sure to be just a little extra slow and sultry when he leans over and plucks a beer from the case by his recliner-chair. “See somethin’ ya like?” By which he means: you're staring for a good reason, please, god, aren't you? But he’s too respectful and upstanding to say that, though he considers himself certainly talented at this whole implications thing, and the deep mauve Medic turns when he tosses just a slightly inflected look in his direction indicates he must get the general idea.

“Well—hoo, well.” He spends two seconds frankly adorably stumbling through his words and then that gloved hand darts out and there’s rubber around Engie’s wrist, two long, thick fingers barely touching thumb-to-pointer in a little ring. “I was—er…”

He rescinds the hand, temples his fingers under his chin, caught between sitting and standing and settling in a weird in-between as Engie watches, fascinated. “I was just… thinking… about your heart. And your lungs.” He tilts his head. “And, in a small measure, your brain, I suppose. Er, imagining your breathing, and your circulation, and the oxygen flowing in and out of your limbs, and… so on. Drawing your veins in my mind and, and such.”

… Huh. Maybe he misread the situation.

And he keeps just stumbling through, pushing up his glasses every few seconds, still perched on his heels with his arms wrapped around his knees. “You’re a—private man. I have not seen much of you besides what I have been able to—have the company require,” and his voice pushes up a few notes on the last word, and well he’ll be damned if it’s not the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “but I… think about you.”

He lowers his voice just a little for this one, reclining down onto his back. “Oh, you do.”

“You have a very impressive set of lungs. Even for all the, er, damage." Engie frowns and Medic puts his hands up. "That's a compliment."

"Uh-huh."

"And your heart is a perfect specimen. Strong, and healthy… pulsing with vitality," and his eyes bug out just a little on the last line. "I was almost upset to have to cut it out of you… until, well…"

Ain't that interesting. "Until?"

He smiles sheepishly, wringing his hands together with a frankly disgusting sound of rubber against rubber. “… I may or may not have kept your original heart in a jar. With my other personal possessions.”

He mentally re-catalogues everything of interest in the lab, mentally travels to Medic’s big mahogany former-bookshelf, stacked top-to-bottom with preserved organs in jars, and sees a lot of hearts. A lot of hearts. But, then again, his mind is drawn back to a smallish mason jar near the front, suspiciously unlabeled, amidst rows and rows of perfectly organized bits and pieces.

Yeah, sure.

He's sure Medic is approaching this more from scientific curiosity than any particular angle he'd prefer, but heat's rising to his face before he knows it and frankly he doesn't really feel like putting in the effort to quell it.

And just to press the envelope that tiny bit further, he ventures: "Well I'll be darned if that's not the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Medic turns the color of his tie. Engineer's sure he follows suit.

[dozyrogue]

bad was right when he said tubbo’s too smart for his own good. being the first on the island to figure out that there’s multiple islands and that the residents are essentially being used as test subjects. figuring out that fit’s hiding something from all the other islanders within two days of meeting him. figuring out how to find purgatory bases, along with where dapper was kidnapped just by using the minimap cave layers, bamboo’s spawning properties, and cave generation. talking circles around every federation employee to the point where they’ll just hand over sensitive information if it means he’ll leave them alone. he’s a genius at using his reputation of being just a loud and annoying kid to his advantage, most people don’t see him as a threat until it’s already too late.

You get me anon, like hes genuinely so fucking impressive.

Like from other povs he seems like just some guy but when u get down to it hes so fucking cool. Or terrifying.

Its why I like the past fed worker hc because of course they would want a guy like him on their side. but also its cool to see him against the feds and cucurucho. Cucurucho constantly following him around to the point tubbo is now numb to it, the rest of morning crew + phil where freaked that they were being followed by him (one stream before the move). but tubbo just scoffed and said that fucker ain't gonna do shit.

Tubbo is to smart for his own good and could/is be such a dangerous enemy. Weve seen how scary he can be in purgatory. And how sad he can get sad of recently. His fatal flaw is the fact he's to damn nice and craves being useful

[stvrdrops]

soul ties ☆ | shuri x fem!reader

love at first sight was something everyone believed in. for wakandans, it was something entirely different. it was the belief that bast had created lines to connect each human to their perfect fit. shuri believed that you were the end of that line for her.

warnings : some fighting mentioned, mature themes, and cursing.

word count : 6.2k+

note : i would play the song right when the word "she" is highlighted. :) also this is the largest fic i've ever written so yayyy

song : un-thinkable (i'm ready) by alicia keys ft. drake

"shuri?" a voice peeks through shuri's daydreaming. when the princess looks slightly down to her left she sees riri speaking to her.

"are you even paying attention to the tour?"

"yes, of course i am." shuri says in a tone that sounds almost as if she were offended that riri would even ask such a question. even though she did in fact have her attention elsewhere.

"don't front. what do you see that's so important?"

riri follows shuri's eyesight across the quad, until it lands on you. her face lights up and her eyes widen.

of course. she thinks as she watches you in a world entirely of your own. your airpod maxes had been on and you were stuck in a studying session. your braided hair was tied back into a long ponytail, keeping the strands from falling in your face. riri could see even from afar that you were wearing very little makeup. your natural face was the one she preferred, and it was one shuri quickly grew attached to. you were in spandex shorts and a red hoodie that proudly repped MIT in white lettering.

"no."

shuri looks back over to riri, "what?"

"i said no. you're not going to get anywhere with her. no one has. not even i could crack that code." riri mumbles out, clearly butthurt.

"so, i'm hearing that you two know each other."

riri rolls her eyes, "yeah, we're friends. i tutored her last year."

"will you introduce me?"

"no."

"the dean said meeting fellow students would be a good idea. y'know, so i can be more accustomed."

"the dean ain't here though, is she?"

"oh don't be like that."

riri grumbles. she assumes that it can't hurt to introduce the two of you. it's not like any of the other generational wealth kids impressed you. however, a princess with panther powers just might do the trick.

"fine. you get five minutes."

shuri smiles and begins making her way towards you. with every step she noticed how much more beautiful you got. she also happened to notice how her heart would be tugged on, as if being pulled along on a string by you. you reminded her of the beauty she found in wakanda. with your rich skin and dark brown eyes, she couldn't help but notice you.

shadows of figures fall over your textbooks as you were reading over a line about quantum physics. annoyance began to bubble up, considering you had to have all of this material memorized by tomorrow afternoon for a test.

your eyes raise to meet the people causing the shadows, ready to ask them exactly what it was that they needed. that is, until you see riri, and a face you've only ever known in the news. your hands quickly find their way to your headphones, slipping them around your neck.

"hey y/n." riri says so casually that it shocks you. did she not know who was standing right beside her?

"uh, hey riri."

riri does her silly smile that she does every time you say her name. you knew she was utterly smitten with you, but you also knew that your friendship to her mattered more than anything.

"hi y/n." shuri says with a sultry wakandan accent. riri knew that wasn't how she usually talked, all sexy like that. a swift elbow was placed into shuri's side. due to her panther powers she could barely feel it.

"are you who i think you are?" you can't help but ask, struggling to pick your jaw up from the floor. shuri was someone you would say you looked up to. politics was something you were extremely interested in and watching her on tv speak about wakanda inspired you deeply. you wished so badly to visit wakanda since they opened up their borders, but their policy on foreigners remained the same. they were not to enter unless absolutely necessary. riri was only granted access because of her and shuri's close friendship, that riri never thought to mention until now.

she laughs, which makes your eyes light up. riri notices and figures it's just because you're starstruck. that's what you assume too, but it doesn't feel like that.

"yeah, this is the princess of wakanda, shuri." riri says as she rolls her dark brown eyes, "enough about her though," she slides next to you on the bench. "what are you studying?"

"i'm trying to study quantum physics right now. which is proving to be practically impossible." you say with a heavy sigh. at this rate you were doomed.

"oh, that's real easy baby. i can help you with it later tonight if you want." riri says as her eyes rake over the material in the book.

"very funny riri."

"no, i'm serious. i'm holding a little study session later for shuri to meet some friends. i know you don't hang out with my crew all like that but you're welcome to join."

the invite is enticing.

"i happen to know a decent amount of quantum physics myself." shuri says with a charming smile, "i can help you if you need it."

now the invite seems even more enticing.

"i mean, i guess. as long as we actually study. last time you had a 'study session' we all ended up high."

riri puts her arm around your shoulder, "yeah, but you passed that test the next morning, didn't you?"

a smile can't help but make its way across your face, "yeah, that's true."

"mhm, i thought so."

"shouldn't you be off giving the princess a tour?"

"shuri." the wakandan says.

"hm?" you ask, your eyes torn away from riri.

"you can just call me shuri." she says, "no need for formalities."

"oh, okay. shuri." you say, testing how her name sounds against your tongue. it feels natural and comfortable. shuri would be lying if she said her heart didn't flutter.

riri's eyes shift back and forth as they watch you and shuri.

"ookayyy. yeah, it's time for us to go shuri." riri speaks as she gets up from her spot next to you. she walks back over to shuri, who is still gazing at you. "see you later y/n."

"bye girls." you say as you watch them walk away. riri is saying something to shuri with a weird look on her face, but you can't tell what it is. you're just surprised you kept your cool in shuri's company.

then almost as if by clockwork, your phone begins to ring. you stare at the name on the screen and a sigh leaves you. of course he's calling.

"y/n is here!" riri shouts to the rest of the guests in the room. the couch had been filled with the couple guests riri had waiting in her living room. you thought this was going to be a small gathering, which granted it was. six people, including yourself, wasn't even all that bad. you just felt like you weren't going to actually study tonight after seeing them all. also, you were the only one with a school book in your hand. you weren't surprised to see a few people you knew, with the exception of one girl who had been in the kitchen with shuri.

you set the book onto the table as you take a seat on a beanbag. you notice the girl you're unfamiliar with is hanging onto shuri in the kitchen, keeping her preoccupied with conversation. however, when she feels a gaze lingering on her she's not shocked to see that it's yours. despite how fast you looked away, she knew you were staring.

"you want a hit?" a girl you recognize as karly says before extending her arm out to you. you can't help but look at riri, who just shrugs at you.

"sure." it can't hurt to relax if everyone else was. besides, this might be exactly what you needed. if you took a break from studying maybe you'd do better on the test type deal.

you take a hit of the blunt, making sure to show off how much experience you have with one. it felt good as it scratched the back of your throat. it took you some time to get used to the feeling. now you could successfully take in large amounts without coughing your guts out.

"we got a pro over there." riri says with a smirk on her face. she moves closer to you and sits on the floor. you pass her the blunt and she takes a hit equivalent to yours.

"with the amount of times you persuade me to smoke with you i should be a pro by now."

she laughs at your remark and passes the blunt onto someone else.

shuri makes her way into the room after watching the conversation for a while. you could tell from her eyes that she had already had the blunt a couple times. you wondered how she looked as she smoked. she takes a spot on a chair opposite of the beanbag.

"ri, so you ain't gonna update us on you and justice? i saw you sneak back into the apartments with her. it's almost like you forget that just because you stay in the bougie ass campus apartments means we can't spy on you."

"she not important."

"mhm, not like how y/n is."

riri narrows her eyes at her friends.

you laugh though, the weed taking your edge off. "i don't think my boyfriend would like that very much."

the whole room's eyes are now on you. your smile slowly dissipates from your face and your eyes go wide when you realize what you've said.

"boyfriend? since when the fuck do you have a boyfriend?" riri asks, a bit hurt that you never bothered to tell her this information.

"since my senior year of high school. he goes to a different school out of state." you say this so matter of factly. you weren't lying, you did have a boyfriend. he did also attend an out of state school. he was studying computer engineering. he was pissed when he didn't get into MIT and you did. he viewed it as an insult to his intelligence. that should've been one of your first of many red flags. you two talked at max five times a day. any more than that would just be a headache. two busy schedules don't mix well, especially when sometimes you're filling up your schedule just to make sure you had a solid excuse for missed calls.

"you didn't think that was important to tell us? no wonder someone hasn't been walking on campus bragging about how they nailed you." jacari says, a mutual friends of your's and riri's.

"lay off, at least she's faithful." karly says, staring daggers at him.

"i mean, you guys don't really ask me about my romantic life because you assumed there wasn't one."

"is there one? if he's out of state i'm sure that's hard to deal with." shuri can't help but say. the entire room turns to look at her, surprised she's asked such a question like that. she barely knew you. the one fact that she now did know about you was that you had a boyfriend that you didn't like to bring up. that was something she wasn't hoping to learn at all.

"yes, i have a very happy relationship with him." you say, knowing it's a lie. why are you lying? are you still trying to convince yourself? just today when he called you as you studied you argued with him. he wanted to stay where he was at for spring break and you wanted him to come visit you. it was months away, but you had to plan these things in advance with him. he never came to see you anymore. just this past christmas he lied saying he couldn't get out of his internship, but instead he was at his mother's house opening presents as she asked where you were.

you should have broken up with him by now. however, he was comfortable for you. did you really have the time to get to know someone entirely new? did you want to relearn someone's favorite color, zodiac sign, dreams, and goals? granted, there were plenty of choices in front of you that you already knew. such as riri, who you could see yourself being with. however, you prized her friendship so much more.

"that was intrusive, forgive me." shuri apologizes. her thick accent making your skin crawl.

"it's okay.." you mutter out.

"what's his name?" she asks, desperate to get any more information out of you. really, she just likes to hear your voice.

"monty." you say, his nickname rolling so easily off of your tongue, "i mean, his real name is montell. i call him monty."

"he sounds nerdy as fuck." riri can't help but say out of her own saltiness.

"i mean, he is."

"oh my god, so when was the last time you had an orgasm?" the mystery girl can't help but ask.

now this was a question shuri was interested in.

"i don't know. the beginning of this past summer." you wouldn't dare tell them that it had been one you pulled out of yourself.

"sis, you're kidding." jacari says, shocked at how long it had been. "y'all don't have phone sex?"

not even once.

"nah, it just never comes up for us." you try to say in a nonchalant manner, as if it doesn't bother you how you don't get turned on for him anymore. as if you ever did.

"that sounds miserable."

"it is." you can't lie as you laugh, "i've been itching to have sex for a while now. guess it'll just have to wait."

"whew, you're better than i am. i would've fucked half the campus by now if i were you." jacari continues on before taking a hit.

the conversation ends abruptly when riri's roommate comes out of her room and towards you.

"i need my beanbag please." she says, standing right over you. "i'm about to start studying and i'd rather not do it on my bed."

it takes a second to realize what she's saying to you through your high.

"yeah, of course." you say as you get up, pulling the chair from beside you and handing it to her.

"thanks." she says kindly, and then glares at riri. she goes back into her room, leaving you to stand.

"that bitch is always tripping. she didn't need her damn chair. she's just mad i have people over." riri says as she glares towards the door.

shuri notices you're standing and her mouth begins to speak before she can stop herself.

"do you want to sit in my lap? it's probably more comfortable than the floor." shuri offers up, everyone looking at her with wide eyes. it was a bold move that she was practically flirting with you despite finding out you have a boyfriend. also, after insulting the said relationship between the two of you.

of course, you didn't pick up on how charged that question really was. you were naturally oblivious to that stuff.

"yeah, okay. thanks." you say as you sit on her lap, or more specifically her knee. your spandex shorts made it so that practically every inch of your exposed skin was touching with hers, considering she had on shorts as well. you could tell they were riri's.

maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the lack of sexual release. all you knew was that it felt damn good to have yourself pressed up against her knee. it was like she was teasing you, without even having to do it on purpose. you felt embarrassed as you felt yourself pulse from the closeness and how wonderful it felt. you attempted to get up, scared that she might know how you were feeling. however, her arm quickly found its way around your waist as she held you down onto her lap. your skin covered itself with goosebumps from the dominating grab. it was hard to act like you were interested in whatever conversation riri and her friends had been having with one another. shuri, on the other hand, had no problem continuing in the conversation as she felt how warm you were.

really shuri had not noticed just how bold her movements were. she had this want to protect you, as if you were hers. she wondered if it was because of her panther powers. however, she also wondered if it was something more. the reality that you had a boyfriend kept her from doing anything unwanted. she didn't know the way you felt towards her, if you had any feelings at all. if she couldn't get to know you in a romantic way then a friendly manner would have to do. even if she would ache for something more despite just meeting you this afternoon. shuri recalled a moment with her brother earlier in her life that left her thinking for the rest of the day after meeting you.

"when did you know nakia was the one for you, brother?"

he chuckles, "when i saw her."

shuri couldn't believe it, "what kind of hopeless romantic answer is that?"

"exactly what i just said. bast created soul ties underneath the rich vibranium soils that our eyes are unable to see. even us panthers can not view where the lines lead us. however, we can see when they have reached their destination. when you see that person, you just know that this is where your line ends. you know that bast made you for one another. you also know that you no longer need to search for that line."

"is there a chance that bast would forget to create a line for me? or at least, in the same way she created nakia's to you?" shuri began to wonder, scared because when she was young she didn't know where her sexuality laid.

"oh sweet little sister," he sighs, "bast would never forget to make you a person. after all, your annoying tendencies were made for someone to love."

"ugh, you suck!" shuri says, a wide smile on her face as she playfully hits her brother. he just smiles in return.

shuri believed that she saw the soul tie that connected to you. an american girl who she had never seen before. her brother was gone, but he was right.

your phone that is sitting in your lap starts to buzz, interrupting your train of thought as you attempt to uphold your composure and try not to seem too high. you squint your eyes at the bright screen.

"hi monty." you answer the phone, buzzed enough to sound happy that he's called. shuri watches the phone out of the corner of her eye. she's too curious to see what her competition looks like. he's sun kissed and has a buzz cut. he looked just as nerdy as his name sounded.

"where are you at?" he asks, not greeting her back.

"i'm at riri's."

shuri watches as his face turns into one of disgust. "i thought i told you to stop going over there. all she ever does is get you high."

riri is far too buzzed and in her own world to realize what he's said. shuri heard it though, and furrowed her brows.

"getting high is my own choice, monty. i know you get high with your frat bros in north carolina."

"it's different."

no it isn't.

"wait a minute, are you sitting on some other dude's lap?" he asks, as all he can see is shuri's curly hair.

"no, this is shuri. like the princess of wakanda shuri." you whisper that last part into the phone. it shows just how truly geeked you are.

"you're lying. that's a fucking dude."

before you can say anything, shuri takes the phone from you and puts it on her own face. you watch as monty's face goes wide and for once he has nothing to say.

"hello montell."

"oh, um. i-i'm sorry, princess." monty is scrambling to find the words and shuri can tell he wants to hang up. he always hated to be embarrassed. being embarrassed by royalty was the lowest it could get.

you take the phone back before he gets the chance to hang up, "wait, monty, what were you calling for?"

"well, i thought about what you were saying earlier. i'll come home for spring break. i miss you baby."

his voice sounded so insincere and shuri cringed at it. this was the man who got to claim you as his own? you had a beauty unrivaled and here you were wasting it on some man who couldn't even seem excited about seeing you. she felt offended for you, even though you were use to this by now.

"really? what made you change your mind?"

"i don't know. i guess i'll see you over break though. we can talk more about this at another time."

you knew what he meant by this.

"i'm not out partying, monty."

"you are. at least be a responsible adult and get up for your classes tomorrow. bye."

"bye." you say back, unwilling to fight.

when he hangs the phone up you realize the everyone is looking at you. your face heats up from noticing that everyone probably witnessed that entire exchange. of course they caught him on a night where he was being a dick. it was pretty much every night, so this did make your case to defend him a little harder. you didn't want to get up from shuri's knee considering it felt so nice up against you. however, you also didn't want to hear any comments from the gallery.

"i'm going to go home." you say, pulling yourself into sobriety after that conversation. "hope you all have a good night."

shuri lets you up from her lap. she feels bad you're walking home but it's not like you've never done it before. the heat you resonated leaves her feeling cold when you stand away from her. everything inside of her is screaming for her to grab you back into her arms and keep you there. a part of you wanted that too, but it was unrecognizable.

riri hands you the physics book on the table. "get home safe, y/n."

"i always do."

you got home safe that night. you also searched for an orgasm multiple times that night as you recalled how good you felt against her. you replicated her knee with a pillow and held on tight to yourself with your free hand. you tried so desperately to think of monty as you rocked against it. however, nothing worked. all you could do was imagine your head placed in the crook of the princess's neck, smelling her enticing cologne. you could hear her wakandan accent telling you how good you were doing and how badly she craved you. they were all words that monty could never say to you. they were words you searched so bad for because you ached for her praise. only when you moaned out her name as you finished made you so self aware to what you had been doing. this made you dig your head into your pillow, still heaving from the high.

what you did weighed heavy on your conscience. especially when you had been practically spending every day with shuri. she was basically attached to your hip. she joined your study sessions, she came with you to try american cuisine, her favorite being wingstop for some strange reason, and she even waited for you after every class. she was your best friend, making riri fall into second place.

at one point a rumor had been going around campus that the two of you were in a relationship, despite the fact you had a boyfriend. after all, who could deny a princess of the most powerful and advanced nation in the world? you could deny her as much as you wanted. however, you knew deep down that you couldn't do it for long. you didn't know how much longer you'd keep stringing monty and yourself along. commitment was something you were scared of. commitment to a future leader of a nation was something entirely different. what if you had decided to dump monty for a potential happy relationship with shuri? what would happen if it ended? you'd rather not think of all the possibilities, instead you preferred self sabotage. you appreciated shuri so dearly, in the a.m. and in the p.m. when you would finish to thoughts of her. whether it be how she played with your hair when she got bored, how she laughed so sweetly at your jokes, or how she constantly had her hand in yours or on your waist. you knew friends didn't do that. you knew that she also knew that.

the more time you spent with shuri meant the more time you spent ignoring monty. he saw paparazzi pictures that his friends would show him of the two of you together. he felt some type of way of course, blowing up your phone with "she might as well be your boyfriend the way she's touching on you." your only response being a swift "okay" and an "i'm sorry." you weren't sure how else to respond to him, knowing that you were cheating emotionally and even somewhat physically. you imagined that monty couldn't have stayed loyal to you with the lying he did. so what did it matter if you told a couple white lies too?

you didn't even realize that at one point whenever you brought him up you'd start referring to him again as his birth name, montell.

"montell?" you can't help but ask in surprise as you open the door to your dorm.

"surprise!" he says with the most emotion you've heard out of him in weeks. a bouquet of flowers are in his large hands. a nice turtleneck adorned his chest, which had gotten bigger. he must've been putting his frustration into working out. "you back to calling me by my birth name?"

he pushes his way into the dorm, looking around at your space that you shared with your roommate who had been out of town.

"um, you're early. a week early." you express to him, rubbing your forehead. you weren't prepared for his arrival in the slightest. your hair had been pulled into a bun and your face was bare. you adorned some grey sweatpants that did not belong to you. shuri had left them here the last time she slept over. she claimed it was "too warm" in the room to wear such pants. instead she wore a pair of your shorts that you never got back.

"you weren't going to tell me that your spring break started a week earlier than mine? i just decided to do my coursework ahead of time and then surprise you."

"honestly it slipped my mind." you say, which was the truth.

he sets the bouquet down.

"you look pretty." he says as he gets closer to you. his hands grab your waist, pulling you in and looking at you as if he wanted to devour you. it was almost as if he had forgotten how pretty you were. or maybe he was just jealous, because he knew the pants were too big for you.

you wanted to pull away, not wanting to kiss him despite thinking that you had been missing him all this time.

"not right now, i kinda just woke up." you say, which was a lie. it was eight p.m. on a rainy night. you could never sleep when it rained.

"okay, i guess later then when we go out to dinner. you looked like you were expecting somebody though with the way you opened up the door. is it that stupid princess you've been hanging around?"

there was the montell you were used to. a jealous, insecure, fucking man child.

"no." you say, a lie. your face scrunches up in disgust that he would refer to her in that tone.

he knows you're lying.

"okay. so if i wait up around in here she's not gonna show up?"

"i don't know. i can't control what she does."

"bullshit. you've got her walking around behind you like you're the one who's royalty. call her."

what?

"no."

"i said, fucking call her."

before you can say anything he's attempting to grab your phone. you put up a good fight, causing the phone to get launched right into his face. you gasp when you've realized what you did. instant regret fills your body as you spurt out countless apologizes.

"it would've been better if you just fucked her, y/n. cause then i could confidently say i don't give a fuck about you and finally tell you about all the girls i've been nailing since i went away. heh, just like how you've been. guess we finally have something in common."

your eyes go wide at his words. there it was. there was the truth that you had been begging to hear in some deep part of your brain. those were the words that could allow you to finally let him go. this was the moment you decided that you weren't okay with being 'comfortable' anymore. you were utterly repulsed at him and yourself for letting this go on for so long. for months you refused to act on impulses that you craved so badly to have. your lip trembled when you thought about how you could've kissed shuri ten times over by now. you had been holding onto something that you didn't realize had no real value to you anymore. and for what? to be treated like some idiot? you didn't deserve that.

"get the fuck out. you should've never come home."

"yeah i should've stayed with my other girlfriend. at least she doesn't flaunt herself around with other people in fucking tabloids. it's embarrassing you know that? when your buddies send you links of some bitch having her arm wrapped around your girlfriend? they teased me about it in my frat for weeks after she got caught playing in your hair and looking so lovey dovey with you. they called me a pussy for not coming back home sooner."

"so that's why you came back? to prove yourself to some idiot frat boys who are gonna be stuck drinking out of kegs the rest of their life while you write all their code, making them the millionaires? get the fuck out montell."

"you bitch-"

"i said leave."

you don't have to tell him again before he's grabbing up his roses and muttering curse words at you under his breath. you held your composure until he slammed the door shut. when surrounded in your own hospitality you finally crack. the tears fall down your face and plop as they hit the wooden floor. you were crying because you were upset about losing someone you loved. you were crying because you had let yourself be played for a fool for so long. a part of you feels liberated as the weight of montell is lifted off of your shoulders.

"y/n?" a voice says from behind the door. you recognize it's shuri.

attempting to speak only results in you being choked up. the door opens as you raise your head to look up at her.

her grey hoodie that says MIT has raindrops all over it. her curls are wet and drip against the wood floors. she looked beautiful despite being soaked. the fact she looked so beautiful made you cry even more.

when she lays her eyes on you she can't help but immediately rush over. she drops the books about physics she had in her hand. she had every intention on coming over here to study with you, but now she didn't care about any of that. she had never seen you like this before. her only priority was you. her heart was set solely on you.

"what happened?" she asks, her arms wrapped around your body as you huddled into yourself. you don't dare to look at her, feeling too ashamed.

"montell.. i'm so stupid." you manage to choke out.

shuri puts it all together. she thought that man she had passed in the hallway just now looked familiar. she knew even more that something was up when he gave her a glare that could've had him killed. had she known he left you like this, she would've killed him herself. how dare he cause such pain to someone who did nothing but care for others?

"whatever happened, you are not stupid. you are one of the brightest girls i know, and that's saying a lot."

you somehow manage to laugh and look back up at her. she's still holding on tight, making you feel warm in her embrace. it reminds you of the study session at riri's. it feels pure. it feels like you're the only person in the world to her.

she wipes away your tears with the pads of her thumbs, her eyebrows contorted into a face that resembles worry.

"please don't cry. you are too pretty to cry over such ugly things. i hate to see you cry."

you think that this is exactly how love is supposed to feel as she says those words to you.

"shuri.."

"y/n. you make me feel things that i've never felt before. you're something that is so impossible to ignore that i can't help but spend every second with you. you put up with my annoying tendencies. you put up with my clinginess. you put up with my lack of american pop culture knowledge. you denied me my feelings because you knew it was the wrong thing to do if you fell into my temptation. i know you know deep down how i feel for you. it is quite obvious. you are an angel among men, y/n. you are my angel. you've saved me in ways that you can't even begin to think of. i never had any intentions on falling in love with you, but it has happened. you may not be in love with me but you are what makes my world spin. you are what makes my oceans flow and earth quake. you are exactly who bast intended me for and i can't ignore this anymore. i can't let you sit here and think you are foolish when you are anything but. you are considerate, you are kind, you are a person worthy of being a queen. you are my queen, wakanda's future queen."

her words have shocked you as you sit there, eyes wide and your mouth partly gaped open. you thought you'd want to hear those words from montell, but really it had been shuri all along. you couldn't ignore your feelings towards her after a love confession of such caliber. it had shaken you to your core and it took you out of your sadness. your heart was beating at a dangerous tempo, but it was aligned with hers. you didn't know what she meant by her goddess creating you for her, but you could feel it. you could feel it because you knew she was made for you as well.

you hadn't realized, but you knew everything about her. you knew shuri's favorite color was purple. you knew her zodiac sign was sagittarius. you knew her dreams and goals of advancing wakanda. you also knew how scared she was to become the future queen as she once cried in your arms.

you love shuri. you love her so much that it made you blind. you'd rather ignore that feeling than feed into it, but that's all changed now. she took the lead tonight and now it was time for you to express what came to your mind.

so you did.

your lips connected to hers in a wild frenzy. finally you were quenching this thirst you had been searching for since she came into your life. after all this time you were doing the unthinkable. you were allowing yourself to be her's, rather than anyone else's. your fears of commitment felt like things of the past when your hands made their way to her face. her skin felt so soft against yours, as it got wet from your tears. her plump lips are attached to your soft ones. it felt like you were intertwining yourself with her. for shuri, it felt like the soul ties were becoming knotted into one. finally she had you and she had no plans of ever letting you go. this was the unthinkable and it was so beautiful as you held onto each other, placing intimate kisses one one another. this was you saying you loved her just as deeply as she loved you, in very little words.

you were ready. after all this time you were ready to see what was right in front of you this whole time. you could never go back to what it was before. she was your soulmate.

"i'm sorry." you whisper out after you pull away to breathe.

her hands begin caressing your face as her eyebrows furrow. "what are you sorry for, my love?"

"i'm sorry for not doing this any sooner. i'm so sorry."

"you never have to apologize to me. i would've waited until the end of time for you."

you smile, feeling your heart swell.

as the rain falls down around outside of your dorm walls, you stay in her embrace. shuri could feel her brother smiling at her from a distant plane, knowing in death that he was right. he had been smiling even brighter at the prospect that shuri did indeed find her nakia.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽︎

[fand0mswithbunny]

this is so different from the other posts i do but fuck it. descendants 4: rise of red review, spoilers ofc, we still boycott disney's ass, pirate this movie like uma and her crew ate the intro of this movie instead of watching this from disney+

keep reading if youve seen it or dont care about spoilers but tldr: if you havent seen it and see this as a spin off movie instead of a 4th installment, i say go watch it. its basically how i feel about the 2024 mean girls movie, im just here for certain characters, dynamics and songs, and a bit of the actual plot, its fun but definitely not for everyone, i liked parts of the movie/plots tho

okay honestly overall, despite the fucking terrible rushed ass ending, i still honestly enjoyed a lot of aspects of this movie.

songs, generally i liked. yeah its all pop-y but yk, none of them were unbearable, i loop red, whats my name (red vers.) and love aint it what about it

the editing was. a choice at times. like it will cut at the most random moments and when red was being transported and fell from that. pipe. thing in the castle it was so. disney channel editing core LIKE OKAY I KNOWW OFC IT IS but grahhhhhHH

the cg was good, direction was. also a choice at times. idk how to explain it but it felt like every scene was being directed like a music video and not like a MOVIE esp the lighting oh my god idk what it is but its so GLOWY AND WEIRDD

the characters themselves, i love the main cast, red, chloe, ella, bridget, etc. were all cool. IM A FIRM RED/CHLOE SHIPPER THEY ARE GIRLFRIENDS IDC and i also liked the dynamic they have with their past moms it was nice

oh yeah i dont mind how they wrote mal, evie, jay, and ben outta the story, i mean they gotta explain their absence yk. and i loved the carlos tribute, you can tell china was genuinely not acting in that tribute scene.

the vks were. okay. i dont mind that literally every villain/princess/disney protag goes to high school. this whole series basically feature length fanfiction anyway, idc personally about that. its weird URSULAS SISTER was the main antagonist. like i get having a completely new villain aside from the vks parents or something but. ursulas. sister??? besides you could tell me shes ursula and ill believe you.

its nice seeing filipino prince charming thats it thats all i gotta say RAHHH PHILIPPINES BABYYY 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 MY MANS GOT THAT 'PINO RIZZ OKAYYY

the plot was actually fun, but yeah I WISH WE COULDVE SEEN CASTLECOMING WE WERE ROBBED OF THAT i knew when red and chloe got the book there was like 10 minutes left in the film but cmonn we couldve had Morgie, I DONT KNOW somehow freeing the rest of the vks and them STEALING THE POCKETWATCH AND RED AND CHLOE HAVING TO GET IT BACK, GET ANOTHER 30 MINUTES IN THE FILM MAYBE, ANOTHER ACTION SEQUENCE, CASTLECOMING. but its finee im sure theres a fanfiction in the works somewhere that has that exact premise because thats what fanfic is for babyyyy

imagine. during the dance chloe and red are scrambling to find the watch, they see the vks, they find bridget crying because her best friend isnt there, she thinks ella bailed on her, they have to find the watch but, they gotta make her feel better right? red comforts her while chloe chases after them to find the watch, ella comes to the dance late after deciding, fuck my stepmom, get your hands dirty parallels, something something, the four of them all stopping the vks together, THEN they travel back.

i should just write a fix it fic for this movie at this point damnn i impressed myself

but yeah the ending does leave a lot of plot holes, if bridget didnt change from the past WHO DID, if Red even CONSIDERED a VK in this timeline? if not then WHO IS IT?? IS IT CHLOE?? its hella rushed, its ass, but i guess we'll find out in the 5th movie ig

also i thought they were totally setting it up for Ella to be the one that humiliated Bridget in the past, like the "I saw through her" in Love Ain't It we NEVER GOT ANY CLOSURE FROM THAT WHAT HAPPENED?? sighhh its okay its fine

i see this movie as a spin off movie rather than a 4th installment of the universe because it pretty much is, like its basically its OWN universe with the lack of the og cast and new characters. i unofficially coin it as the "Descendants: Redverse" because it just makes more sense

so many questions, mainly WHY, but yeah, still liked it, would rewatch. certain. parts of it. but honestly? a 7/10. leaning towards a 7.5

is this a recommendation? not sure, depending on who you are you could totally love this film or hate it, i say give it a chance and completely ignore the busted ass ending <3

anyways KENDRICKKK FANFIC WRITERSSSSSS- DROP SOME MORE CHARMINGHEARTS FANFICS/D4 FIX IT FICSSS. AND MY LIFE, IS YOURRSSSS

[lovelywetdreamer]

Zuko and sokka smut?

Double scoop gotcha. Sorry for taking so long with this request. I had a hard time coming up with an idea. Zuko is 26 while Sokka is 25.

A couple of cactus juices and a game of truth or dare later got you on Sokka's lap with him and you making out. While Sokka is exploring your mouth, Zuko twirls his tongue around one of your hard nipples. Zuko's tongue is warmer than most people. Being a Firebender has some interesting qualities, you ain't complaining. Sokka lets his hand travel down your body until it lands between your thighs. He broke from the kiss and asked you, "Can I touch you, please baby?"

"Can I touch you as well?" Zuko popped in with puppy eyes. When the Firelord and the greatest General want a taste of you, you give them a piece. With one nod, you have Sokka and Zuko bumping heads as they both devour you. Two tongues twirling and exploring your cunt. One cold and one hot, you were on the brick cumming. They both could tell how your moans were falling from your lips, eyes shut tight, and toes curling. They are sweet guys that gonna let you com- both of these evil fools stop and just flash a wolfish grin.

"Don't be upset," Zuko says. " We let you come but you're gonna come around our cocks. Is that okay princess?" Sokka asks. One look at their impressive bulges. "Please just fuck me." You moan. Your breasts press and rub against Sokka's broad chest. Zuko's chest is pressed against your back. Both men got their cocks lined up against your soaking core. The poor thing is to squeeze around nothing just waiting for them to derange your guts. They didn't make the wait for long. Zuko and Sokka slowly push themselves into you by inch and inch. Zuko's thick dick and Sokka's long member was stretching you out in a way you never knew. Deliciously painful. "F-fuck you feel so good, baby." Zuko groans into your ear as his balls slap against your ass. "She so tight." Sokka moans into the crack of your neck. Both thrusting inside you deeper and harder until you become numb with pleasure. Two big loads are flooding your walls.

Later on, you gave birth to twins. One with blue eyes and one with brown eyes. Nobody knows how you got pregnant besides you, Zuko, Sokka, and sadly Toph. The poor girl was traumatized so badly she was considering wearing shoes. The Fire Nation and the Water Nation are alleys thanks to one steamy drunk night.

[bruciemilf]

What are your fav teen!Bruce headcanons? (Like, not de-aged, I mean just him being a teenager and making Alfred lose decades of lifespan every day)

Thank you!

OOO I'm glad you asked!! If I may be permitted to be an edge lord of preposterous proportions for a second--

I think teen Bruce would be a combination of Battinson, fanon Bruce, and old man Batman from Batman Beyond. He's there only in body. A ghost you can see.

the Waynes carved their name In Gotham's history books by being generous, and helpful, and oh so altruistic philanthropists. They build a pedestal of good deities and put themselves on top.

They wanted to fix the unfixable.

Bruce looks down at his blood covered fists and he knows, like a truth of the ages, he's nothing even close to that.

He's not a healer like his father. Or a fighter like his mother. Bruce, despite his best efforts, will only ever be himself.

What's a boy, if not a gun waiting to be loaded?

"You're not a weapon. You're just a kid. A good one, at that."

"Gotham doesn't need more good kids, Alfred," Bruce says. He stopped calling him "Papa" after turning 8. Still. He might not treat Alfred like a parent anymore, but he listens like a son.

"It doesn't need more apathetic rich boys, either."

Bruce takes that to heart. Or tries to. He has the tendency of learning everything too late.

Nevertheless, time doesn't wait on anyone. And before he knows it, he's a 17 year old wraith, moving through Gotham like poison water.

One time, Carmine Falcone, perhaps the only recluse more well known than Bruce, stops him at a town hall meeting Alfred made him go to.

Wayne Remembrance Day. Big Thanks.

"See, I don't really like comin' to these things. Makes me depressed. "

Bruce nods, flicking his cigarette up. " Me too."

Oz snatches it away from his mouth with a " give me that, Slick' and Bruce doesn't stop him. Alberto Falcone, just as mousy and lost as he was when they were kids, watch him like Bruce is Icarus falling from the sky.

He's taller than his father now. He can only imagine what that does to Falcone's ego.

" It ain't everyday I can say this about someone. But you really impress me, Slick. Carryin' on like a small fish. But boy, you got em fooled. I know another shark when I see one."

Bruce doesn't have anything to say to that.

" Maybe if you keep this up, you'll be the last Wayne standing."

He doesn't have much to say to that, either. He simply sends Alberto Falcone with a swift punch, and walks away.

Watching from the sidelines like a Colosseum spectator, little Tim Drake watches his grumpy neighbour storm away with a thunder in his step.

[aerkame]

Hey! I saw your HC’s about the versions of sun wukong’s. May I request “ Journey to the West: Legends of the Monkey King 2000? ” I really loved the show as a kid. I saw it on YouTube again and wondered about it! If..you saw this series that is. If not, I’ll take Netflix monkey king! It’s up to you!

I feel like doing both :p Also I'll be doing general HC because I'm not sure if you meant reader insert or just in general if this were in a fanfiction

Journey to the West: Legends of the Monkey King 2000

This monkey man is the definition of assertive

He sees something he likes? He makes it clear he will have it. There's a demon he wants to beat up? He'll talk about beating them up before actually following through with it. There's a person he wants to get with? He makes his intentions crystal clear to everyone around him without hesitation, heaven forbid you try to stop him, he will not allow it.

Surprisingly optimistic despite everything that has happened. There is nothing that can really bring down his mood once he's in a good one.

That means he's not exactly stable when he's in a rare bad mood. Just...give the guy some space if that happens.

Sometimes he'll accidentally break things or break someone. He just gets excitable and well...

Of course there's lots of apologies that ensue if the worst happens, though he doesn't like admitting he did something wrong.

Out of all the versions of Monkey King, this one is probably the most extroverted and friendly of the bunch. He for sure will make loads of friends if given the chance.

This version also seems to be the most open minded on things. Got something to say? He's all ears. Got something you want him to learn? He'll actually sit and listen (a rarity among Monkey kings)

Despite how loud and assertive he is, sometimes he can also be more quiet and gentle when the situation calls for it. It took some learned behavior from Tang though. But, it's a useful trait to have when you're someone like Monkey king.

Very energetic sometimes. He always needs to be doing something with his hands or going out and fighting stuff.

I'd assume this version is extremely protective of his SO if he has one.

Same can be said for his friends.

Would absolutely do everything he can to cheer someone up if they started crying in front of him. It really hurts to see someone so hurt...

Usually encourages people to be a better version of themselves (except Pigsy, he gave up on that guy)

Netflix Monkey King 2023

Oh boy where do I start?

If Leo the zodiac sign was a person, this would be him.

This guy, ooo- this guy really loves himself, and he makes sure everyone around him knows it too at every given chance.

Very confident in his ability to overcome any challenge or obstacle (he's just the best ain't he?)

Probably takes better care of himself and Stick than his own armor or anything else that's with him.

Would absolutely have a bunch of different shampoos, conditioners, and lotions in modern days. The guy loves to love himself, and look loved too.

Probably a huge flirt when he sees someone he mildly finds interest in. That or he'll just brag about himself to seem more impressive. (He's probably exaggerating)

Loves showing off

Modern version of him would probably be a lot more chilled out after the years, learning to just let things go and not be so impulsive or take things personally. He's still got a lot of work to do when it comes to letting people in though.

He's just afraid of losing people like Lin again you know? Right when he realizes he has a family, he loses them and sits isolated form the world for hundreds of years.

Usually prefers staying away from people, alone with Stick. Being alone as a kid does that to you.

Sometimes seeks out validation and love from crowds of people and fans.

He's a little more patient over the years, but just as chaotic.

Expect lots of malicious compliance from him. And pranks, he enjoys getting a good laugh out of others or just doing it for his own entertainment. (though he can border on just being a jerk)

Sometimes talks to Stick when he's alone, it's usually just him venting about things from the past.

Tends to get anxious when he's alone for too long or if there's a thunderstorm (doesn't need a lot of explaining to understand that).

Will be the sweetest monkey with someone he really likes. It's like he's a completely different person!

[octuscle]

CHAVTF - Smart casual

Michael and Charles were sent shopping. The dress code for the dinner was explicitly "sporty-casual". Just like for the boat tour yesterday evening. Their understanding of casual was a summery three-piece suit with an open shirt. The colleagues with whom they were teambuilding understood it to mean jeans and a T-shirt.

If their boss hadn't insisted that the two of them wear something else, they would have come in a suit again tonight. So after the last group meeting, the two had to run off and find something to wear. Both agreed that jeans and a T-shirt were not their style and that they would only need the clothes for this one evening. So spending too much money seemed unnecessary. Google showed a store near their hotel called CHAVTF with good reviews. That's where the two headed. The first impression was immediately repulsive. The store attendant was wearing army pants with combat boots and a worn-out tank top. But the two didn't have time to look for anything else. They now had to buy something for tonight in fifteen minutes.

Oi mates, the clerk greeted them. Are ya lookin' for somethin' in particular? Michael said they were going on a pub tour today and needed something suitable.

"Sure, mates! Me fuckin' name is like jack. Trust me, us'll find just the reel thin'. Dee ya also go to normal pubs? Or are ya strictly gay on the road?"

Michael said he wasn't sure. But probably mostly gay.

"Cool, that'll get ya undressed, i'll brin' ya somethin'."

Michael gave Charles a kiss and a slap on his butt and the two stripped in the open locker room.

Jack asked if they preferred jockstraps or boxers. "Jockstrap," Michael replied. "Fuckin' nothin'" replied Charles. Jack laughed, tossed them both some soccer socks and handed Michael a jockstrap.

"Cool haircuts ya got ther, mates. Is like the rest of ya 'ody anarl shorn as ya neck?" Michael laughed, holding his arms behind his head and showing off the bush under his armpits. "Nit canny, mate" Jack laughed again and came up with a pair of leather jeans for Charles and a pair of bleached jeans for Michael.

"Ya guys train hard for ya 'odies, or is like workin' on the docks enough to get a 'ody like that?"

"Nah, mate! just haulin' loads ain't enough. It takes regular 'oxin' trainin' to get an arse n' a six pack like that"

"Sure, i get it! all that 'eer in the evenin' needs to be worked off too, after all."

Mike and Chuck stroked each other's board-hard washboard bellies and French-kissed deeply.

"Hey, the place isn't closed yet. Ne way sex while i still havta work!"

Chuck grabbed Jack's crotch and told him to lock the door quickly then. He wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.

Jack tossed them both T-shirts, locked the door, and returned with a pair of DocMartens for Mike and a pair of combat boots for Chuck. And while the two of them got down on their knees to lace up the shoes, Jack got his dick out of his pants. Mike and Chuck promptly responded and began sucking Jack's balls.

"Hehehe, this like isn't the first time ya two hav done this like, huh? Dee ya guys always work together as hustlers? Or 'an ya be 'ooked separately?"

"Sure ya 'an get us separately" replied chuck. "But the other one watches n' jerks off" Mike added n' started suckin' jack's cock.

"Fuck, ya guys are mint! Why are ya still workin' on the docks anyway. As hustlers ya must be earnin' yourselves silly."

"Mate, us're just gay too. Just 'an't handle money. What us earn, us drink or gamble away."

And Mike added that cigarettes are not free. Whether he would get at least one for the blowjob.

Mike and Chuck were satisfied. Jack was always generous when they needed new clothes. And as a rule, he also found them good customers. In the hotel diagonally across the street there was such a nerd event. Some of the snobby guys would surely spend dough for a night with the two of them.

[ravenwitch45]

Could I request Stolas, blitzø, and Loona (separately) with a reader who was a witch when they were alive and still is in hell.

Having SO who was a witch and still is in Hell

Stolas

Oh okay then!

He's surprised but quite happy at this revelation.

He's also a mage, and while every demon can do magic to an extent, the actual techniques to learn most arts are coveted by certain circles. The only exception are overlords granted powers upon reincarnation. Either way Stolas barely ever sees let alone interacts with other magic users.

So upon discovering the fact you knew and practiced magic before death. He's immediately intriqued, asking all about it. Whether or not your powers were granted or there from birth, How they work, What you like to do with them and of course he loves seeing you use your powers.

After his curiosity has been sated a little, he... well we all know he loves to ramble on about his interests. And while with a bit of time it's easy to grasp the basics of botany, Magic is a lot more complicated, Blitz just kind of tunes it out even though he tries, and Octavia is just starting her magic training.

So he starts rambling on about it all to you, unintentionally of course but he subconciously just feels more comfortable about it with you. You notice it but don't mind, having had no one to discuss magic with either for a long time you welcome it, and start asking him about it actively and making sure to listen, which makes him happier then you could imagine.

One thing he really likes to do with you after discovering it, is mix his magic with yours. It's a very intimate, and powerful technique if used agressivley, generally only done with romantic partners and other learned loved ones. He had never done it, considering... you know but when he does it with you, he just melts.

The spell gives a glimpse of the other person's thoughts and feelings, and being able to literally feel all the love you have for him just makes him a blushing mess in your arms.

He loves you so much.

Blitzo

Oh another Magical Hottie? He's down.

He's familiar with magic of course, i mean his other partner as well as his daughter know magic and he himself has learned a bit from using Stolas's grimoire so he's far from weirded out, surprised of course, but cool with it.

But unlike Stolas, he knows nothing about the complexities, so his questions are a lot more wild guesses? He honestly thought you might have been a sinner who got magic due to ruthlessness like The Vs or Al to which he ain't upset at the idea. He would be impressed if that was true.

Also he of course asks what you can do in bed with it, and no he doesn't mean a card trick.

Depending on how you were treated in life, he'll have some buisness to take care of.

Honestly just watches you in awe if he ever sees you kill with it, probably would run up to you and kiss you after it's over, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and calling you a beautiful badass

He runs on like one braincell most of the time so he might ask for a bit of help with stuff, like if he misplaces one of his horse figures or something, you honestly saying you should just teach him these spells but you never do, he just likes seeing you do it.

He is always impresed by every bit of magic you use, mnot matter how much he sees it.

Had to apoligize profusely when you glared at him for buying a pointy hat, assuming you'd like it, though you both laughed it off

Overall he doesn't care too much, he think it's cool and might make fun but cares more on how you treat him and his loved ones, and if that comes with some magic he's good with that.

Loona

Oh she is interested, in every part.

Her favorite top has a pentagram on it, this girl loves magic. And while officially she's just a receptionist, she's generally the one who handles the grimoire plus she knows how to disguise herself so she's a bit of a mage herself.

While she is very curious about how being a witch is, she's someone who understands how it is to be treated diffrently when you don't want to so she'll generally let you talk when you feel like it.

Eventually will ask for help with some magic stuff if she feels like it's needed. Like asking for help on memorizing spells, and asking her step dad or sister feels daunting to her.

Will totally get you witchy fashion from Stylish Occult if you like that stuff.

One time asks if familars are a real thing, getting the response that she is kinda your familar, a deep and intended to be life long bond a witch has with someone special and she just becomes a blushing mess from that.

She likes it a lot, and is very happy to learn about that side of you, but overall loves you as before

(Sorry for the few here, I've never done Loona before.)

Okay there you go! Sorry this took so long, my birthday happened and I got distracted by a lot of stuff, but I finally finished it! And I'll get to more soon enough!

[holmesshire]

WARNING!! RDR2 SPOILERS Greetings folks! Welcome to uh... a beginners experience to RDR2 itself. I HAVE played a bit of the game (8-ish hours fiddling around grabbing the concept of the sandbox-like elements..), but I'll be here to post my daily experience on this game. Without further ado..... Log 01

alright firstly I will admit, before even starting for the day with my intents I had a look around camp. Hosea was teaching Jack to read, Abigail waving Arthur off... .. and (being the curious fool I am) decided I'd eavesdrop on this interaction.

...needless to say, I don't think they were too impressed. My first mission I took to start Chapter 2 was Uncle's mission. I was stoked to start this... cause.. VALENTINE! (but seriously why is this town so close to horseshoe overlook??? that thought was consistent in my head...). Being the goody two shoes I was I prompted to help the coach with his horse.

disaster struck me soon after.

SO I HAD TO MISSION RESET... .. not the first time I failed the first part of the mission Eventually though we did get to Valentine. The prospect of the saloon sitting right infront of me nearing this mission had me STOKED. Not to mention when exiting the general store I was convinced Arthur was drunk... (I played GTA5, I'm familiar with when Rockstar wants to throw in the being drunk feature). Alas, he wasn't. So the mission continued!

SO THEN WE FIND OUT THE GIRLS GOT THEMSELVES INTO TROUBLE.

"Did you shoot him?" no. kinda wish I did, I don't like seeing a women get disrespected like that :(

The usual went down from there as most RDR2 players probably know -- save Tilly, accidentally knive the guy Karen was having problems with... (that's intended in the game right? cause I gasped when I stabbed him) .. OH, AND THE CHASE!

No pictures I'm afraid but I can clarify, Jimmy was saved. Is that going to cost me? Probably. I mean later on in this gametime Arthur was telling Dutch about Jimmy... that's gotta hold some importance, right? Ahh... I like to be civil.

I AM SO MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT FINDING THE HORSE OWNER. I AM SO SORRY, SO SO SO SORRY :'(((((

As I was still in Valentine after Uncle's mission, I noticed Javier was in the saloon so I went in there. Had a good giggle at the "he about to kiss that guy or punch him?" comment and did NOT hold my composure whatsoever when the bar fight itself started.

never thought I'd get so offended at getting my hat knocked off though........

IT HAPPENED TWICE! yes, I am saying after this first bit I picked up my hat, then Tommy comes in and WHERE IS MY HAT. GONE. VANISHED!!!!!! (I died to Tommy on the first go too... what an absolute loser I am to this. All because I forgot how to block......).. I passed the hurdle on the second go. Felt bad for Arthur being covered in dirt after the cutscene happened, and I nearly lost it into a giggling fit when DUTCH showed up. My thoughts were fixed on it; WHY IS DUTCH HERE?!

Now listen, after my hat got knocked the second time I waited patiently for the lore to settle and the cutscene to finish, and I made a beeline for the saloon. Wasn't leaving without my hat, no sirree...

this resulted in me finding out about Cigarette Cards! Apparently according to Google there's 144 in total. Uhh... that's another thing on my bucket list! (Alongside completing William's first task with the Harlow's, and Deborah's bone collecting task). Oh, and dumb dumb over here didn't realise my hat was back on my horse back in the camp. Pretty dumb guy if you ask me...

There were 2 "strangers" I met after this mission, both inside of Valentine; The biographer and the homeless vet.

I came across the biographer first, this guy RAVING about a gunslinger. I found the whole thing delirious considering there's a sheriff.. . ain't gunslingers like outlaws? (Talking about the fact Valentine's SHERIFF was nearby. This biographer had a lot of guts rambling on about his tales and actively wanting to track historical outlaws for this biography of his...)

i'm onto you mister. You shady fella you...

Now in my opinion, the homeless vet had me in a HEARTBEAT. Had me confused as heck at first because his dialogue startled up whilst I was behind the same house he was infront of.... I was crashing into everyone to be generous to this guy. However I found him!

Believe me, hearing about this guy had me down. The one arm caught my attention first and really, REALLY I felt for this guy. (Of course I gave him the hug, the guy needs it if you ask me...)

FINALLY I made my way back to the camp. All these prompted missions interested me, However it was Kieran who had my attention straight away. The darn O'Driscoll who was tied up? THAT GUY? A MISSION???? How can you not be sceptical of that! Dutch was going to castrate this guy. CASTRATION. CASTRATION?

Yeah, pretty big stuff. Soo... Kieran admits to an O'Driscoll camp. I was reminded of that whole 6 (was it 6?) gangs index you can find index, and generally stuff about overrunning the camp spaces. Of course I was invested... and John being up? I took full advantage of poking fun at this guy on the way there... (in my defence Jack was literally staring me down earlier today. Gotta set my priorities straight.../joke)

The ambush occurred, and uh... things went "smoothly" (that's a lie, our silent ambush went straight to charging). I was sat there questioning everything at one point because both Bill and John were scattering. WHERE ARE YOU GOING? ... .. we did it though.

The kicker where Kieran protects Arthur stabbed me good. I have the clip... "oh my god.. wait WHAT?" -- (me, today)

or this. This encapsulates my reaction just as well.

My main question though is how QUICK Kieran was to jump on and join the Van der Linde gang.. Kieran... buddy I'm starting to see why Dutch was so eager to castrate you. You my friend have got balls of steel....... I'm suspicious though. Undeniably, the guys sketchy to me.

I'll catch you round on Log 02 when it comes...... hoo boy, we're only getting started and I know it...