#anyways folks have some tenderness

[anyasathenaeum]

Lover (Nanami x Reader smut)

A/N:This is my first ever writing for Nanami/JJK as a whole. Please be nice about it. I felt like the Nanami lovers deserved some goodness. Do I know what I'm doing? No. Did I at least enjoy it? Yeah. Anyways, please have this... whatever this piece is. Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader, female terms are used, mentions of penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, FOLKS).

Nanami is a quiet lover.

His expressions of love are never glorified or big, never flashy or particularly grandiose. He shows how much he loves you through the little, quiet things.

The attention to detail with each and every lunch that's sent with you to your place of work. A hand on your lower back, guiding you through crowded spaces. A moment of remembrance, bringing you a treat or a gift you'd briefly mentioned in passing. A gentle kiss to your knuckles when it's nobody but the two of you, with no prying eyes around to witness the small gesture of love intended just for you. The way his hazel eyes lock onto you and soften oh-so-slightly the second you enter his field of vision. The small ghost of a smile that plays on his lips when he sees you.

Nanami refuses to let the world intrude on the refuge that your love offers. His love is meant for you and you alone. Nobody else would or should be privy to the love he shares with and feels for you. And so, his declarations of love are quiet; little secrets that only the two of you know about and would ever be able to recognize. It takes time, but eventually, you realize that all these little actions scream those three little words that Nanami refuses to say except for in the privacy and safety of your shared home.

"I love you."

Nanami is a gentle lover.

He's seen so much sadness, horror and suffering in this world, and despite his blunt and cold exterior, Nanami does every possible thing to protect you from all the wickedness in the world. It may have claimed others, it may have torn some of his friends from him, but it will not take you from him so long as he draws breath on this earth and he would be damned if he would ever do something that hurt you.

His touch is so, so gentle for somebody so big and so strong, his fingers tracing the softest of patterns over your delicate skin with the lightest touch, taking in every bit of you. His grip, while firm, never tightens to the point of risking hurting you, such as when his large hands hold your hips down and your thighs apart as he uses his tongue to draw the most beautiful sounds from your lips.

"K-Kento, I-... I'm gonna cum.."

You mewl and whine as Nanami continues to use his tongue to drive you closer and closer to your orgasm, his nose rubbing oh-so-gently against your clit with every movement and a hint of a smirk on his lips as his tongue delves deep into your pussy, relishing your taste and the feeling of you squirming from the pleasure he's giving you.

"That's it, my love. Cum for me."

His low voice sends shivers down your back every time, causing your grip on his blonde hair to tighten as he pulls yet another orgasm from you, the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. His hazel eyes never leave you as he continues to lick your pussy and suck gently on your clit, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until your body finally relaxes. Once you've recovered, Nanami's kissing you with as much love and care as he can muster, the taste of your slick on his tongue making you wet all over again and the seemingly endless ache for him in your core returns immediately, making you squeeze your thighs together. Of course, nothing escapes Nanami's notice, a rumble of a chuckle escaping him at the sight of your neediness.

"That's my girl."

Nanami is a tender lover.

With every thrust to the hilt inside you, through the haze of his pleasure, Nanami still ensures to treasure you for every moment he spends with you, inside you. You're carefully encased in his arms, tucked almost protectively beneath him as he presses his lips against yours, his cock filling you and stretching you deliciously with each and every stroke.

Soft grunts and growls slip from his lips as he fucks you with surprising tenderness, his gaze often drifting to where the two of you are joined so he can watch himself sink his cock into you over and over again, claiming your body in ways nobody else ever would. His fingers often intertwine with yours against the mattress or pull your hips ever closer to his own, allowing him to thrust into you even deeper.

The sudden, loud moan that escapes you as he angles your hips lets Nanami know that his cock has found the perfect spongy spot inside you, making you see stars as his thrusts increase in speed and intensity.

"K-Kento! Lo-love you! Love you, Kento! Kento, please!"

You can't control the words slipping from your lips as Nanami continues to sink his cock deep into you, never once failing to hit that spot deep inside you. The pleasure you feel is too overwhelming, your words escaping you without a thought and without hesitation as yet another orgasm washes over you, your cunt fluttering and spasming around him. The feeling is so intense that he needs to stop his thrusts in order not to fill you up then and there.

You whine when Nanami suddenly pulls out, a frown on your lips as you gaze up at him hazily.

"You didn't cum, Kento. Why'd you stop?"

The smile he gives you in return makes your heart flip in your chest - his expression is one of pure peace and adoration, the tenderness and affection he feels for you evident in his eyes as he takes everything about you in as you lay beneath him. He doesn't answer you, instead just leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. However, unlike before, this kiss isn't hungry or desperate, but rather gentle and soft and oh-so loving, and you faintly realize that Nanami is cherishing you, your body, your very existence in this moment.

He holds you close to him for a little while, giving you some time to recover before slipping his cock back inside you and beginning his thrusts once more, pulling more beautiful sounds from your lips and more soft moans escaping him as he works you towards yet another orgasm. This time, however, he doesn't slow as you cum once again, your pleasure driving him over the edge with you. A low groan escapes Nanami as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills himself deep inside you, his seed coating your walls.

'Where it's meant to be,' Nanami thinks to himself, never saying the words aloud.

As he collapses next to you in the bed, Nanami doesn't hesitate to pull you into his arms, both of you panting from your exertions. He holds you close once again, saying nothing for a while and instead just watching you as you curl up against him, his heart aching for love of you as you press your cheek against his bare chest and wrap your arms around his much larger form. This time, before you can so much as begin to form any words, Nanami leans his head down, his lips by your ear as he whispers those three little words to you softly.

"I love you, (Y/N). Never doubt that."

Nanami is a lover. And his love belongs solely to you.

[zoro-chwaan]

Oh my gosh!! Y’all are so sweet! I love each and every one of you! Anyways I know I said not to except another fanfic anytime soon, but I had a day off and I was thinking of finishing it soo here we are!!

Again ftm reader, so ladies or she/her identifying folks dni!!

Nsfw!!

Word count: 0.9k

Content warning: Mirror kink (is that what it’s called?), overstimulation, praise kink (let me know if I missed anything!!)

Slutty thoughts. . .

Imagine being the boyfriend of a CEO’s son, now he doesn’t brag about his dad or his status at all. He actually prefers to keep it in the down-low. Actually when you two first started dating you didn’t know about any of that, other than that he works with his dad and is able to keep income in.

Now that’s not saying that you were looking for someone to date to leech off on, yes, you had a salary of your own. Though not as good as your boyfriend, but good enough to keep you fed and to pay the bills (and also to spend). So after a few months of dating, he decided to be honest.

At first you were shocked, then confused, then you were okay with it. The reason you were confused was because you questioned why he kept it a secret. He told you that he wanted to make sure he wasn’t dating someone who was there for the money. You understood that and went on with your day.

That talk was about 6 months ago, your one year anniversary with your boyfriend is in a few days. You’ve been planning to go all out, though you aren’t as rich as he is. You still want him to have some time to relax and spend the day together. You asked him a couple weeks ago if he could get the day off on that day, and of course he was fine with it.

When the day came he already looked excited since he would be able to hang out with his sweet and perfect boyfriend. The both of you finished your coffee date and went to the mall and walked around. You both entered a store and went separate was to look around. After a while you went to look for your boyfriend only to see one of his coworkers trying to flirt with him.

Your boyfriend looked uncomfortable and was trying to tell the lady to leave him alone. You felt a ping in your heart and thought nothing of it as you walked up to them. When you were in his view he could help smile in relief. He apologized to his coworker and moved her out of his way and made his way to you. He gave you a hug and kissed you, which surprised you!! Since when did he become this affectionate in public?! Not that you were complaining though ♡.

When he pulled away, he turned his head towards his coworker and saw her shocked yet frustrated expression. He smirked he leaned into your ear and whispered, “Let’s go home, I want you and only you.” You gasped and nodded.

꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦‧₊˚・

Moaned loudly as your boyfriend continued to rub your clit. “Look into the mirror, love.” He spoke seductively. When you looked at the mirror, you was him staring back at you. He rubbed faster as he gave your neck tender kisses.

“Do you know how much I love you? More than anyone. That skank doesn’t mean anything to me like you do, love. You’re the only one for me.” He said as he nibbles your ear and enters his fingers in you which made your moan come out ragged. After a bit of pumping his fingers in you, he pulled them out as you whined at the loss of friction. You tried to grind your hips only for him to hold your hips down.

“Patience, dear.” He lifts your hips up and line’s up his cock to your hole. He slowly brings your hips down, when he fully enters you he moans softly in your ear which made you tighten around him. “Fuck, dear, your boycunt loves me. Doesn’t it?” He chuckles and grunts. He waits a bit till you move your hips a bit signaling him that you’re ready.

When he sees that he takes a hold of your jaw softly and makes you look at the mirror as he slowly, yet roughly pounds into you. Your eyes become cross-sided from all the pleasure you’re getting. His pace starts to speed up as his tip hits that sweet spot in you which made you squirt.

“Awe, look at my sweet boy.” He comments as he moved his hand from your jaw down to your clit and rubbed it at the damn speed that he was pounding you. “One more. Can you do that for me, love?” He ask as he lays you down on your stomach and lifts your hips up and thrusts deeper into you.

You grab a hold of the sheets as you looked into the mirror and saw him smirking as his hand continues to rub your overstimulated clit. You scream as his movement becomes sloppy. Tears fall down your face as your boyfriend kissed your shoulders, “It’s okay, love. Y-your- fuck- doing great. Oh ahh~ shit- coming!” He says as he comes in you while you cum again. His hips slows down and basked in the afterglow.

After a while, he pulls out and walks into the bathroom to get a wet rag. He then comes back in the room and cleans you. “I know you had an entire day planned out for the both of us, dear, but being with you is something that brings me joy. Still thank you for the day, it helped relieve some stress I had.” He said and kissed you. You smiled and wrapped your arm around him.

[jammiesjars]

NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE | MDNI

Warnings: Medium amount of plot?, horribly written medieval times smut, loss of innocence, virginity loss, female anatomy and terminology (??), unrealistic sex, slight coercion, breeding (only a little)

Seems to be the warrior’s picked you.

You were a shy thing. Didn’t get yourself involved in any social gatherings unless necessary, didn’t leave the safe confines of your modest hut unless dragged, and certainly didn’t talk to anyone unless by force.

You were polite, no doubt about it. And though as much as you hate it, people seemed to be drawn to you.

So when the cherished and highly praised warrior that John McTavish is decides he wants you, he will have just that.

It’s not even a question wether or not you want him. You wouldn’t deny the man his right to a pretty little bird like yourself, would you?

No matter, he’ll sneak around; arrange something with your parents so you won’t find out until its too late to stop your matrimony. But God, seeing you smile up at him so naively without a clue in the world that everynight he tugs at his thick cock to the mere thought of you in his arms makes him wish it’d happen sooner.

It was only a matter of time until you found out, anyway. Your parents were off planning some ‘suprise’, your mother teaching you about a wife’s duties all of a sudden and the whispers from the folk in the village only got louder.

“I can’t believe she’s marrying Johnny-“ the girl whispers to her friend, pointing at you.

Your blood runs hot, the same aching need you get when Johnny talks to you in a sultry tone shooting to your core at the mere mention of the rumor; at the idea of being his betrothed. And so you storm off to find him, barging into his office on the compound, blabblering about what you’ve overheard whilst he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Have ye’ got an issue with that, M’eudail?” He’d drawl, his eyes glimmering with the same mischief you’ve come to know. “Don’t tell me yer suprised.”

“Johnny, you can’t be serious.” You’d breathe, the corset taught around your waist suddenly feels ten times tighter, and the furs settled on your shoulders 10 pounds heavier.

“Am always serious about ye, Lass.” He’d coo, leaning back in his chair. He beckons you closer with his hand. “Why? Don’t tell me ye fancy another lad, birdie.” He’d grunt, his calloused hands from years of battle pawing at your hips.

His touch brings out that familiar ache; a coiling need. One you never understood, never knew how to satisfy. “No..“ You’d breathe, responding to his call and stepping into his reach. “But I deserved to know, you cant keep tha-“

You’re silence by a low groan from Johnny. “Och. Quit worrying so much and let yer husband do the thinkin’. Be a good girl and let me take care of ye.”

Playful blue eyes meet yours.

“Keep bein’ at my beck and call, jus’ like ye are now. I’ll do the rest.”

Christ, you’re sure you’ll melt into the floor here and now. It’s not like you can deny anyway, you found out too late. Just as planned. That aching feeling is amplified tenfold and you know Johnny can tell.

He offers a lopsided grin. “Yer all worked up, aren’t ye?” It’s almost a growl. “Don’t worry, lass. I’ll take ye on the altar if you’d ask. I’ll make sure ye never have to go without once yer mine.”

He’d pull you close, so tender despite the vulgarity he whispers in your ear. And above all, you have no clue what he’s talking about.

Even unluckier for you, the scot picks up on that. “Oh, Mo Gràidh..” he’d purr, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Bet ye ache, don’t ye? You’re poor cunt..” He’d tut, shaking his head.

“Do ye know what that feelin’ is, lass?” His eyes hold a dangerous gleam, to which you shake your head and he looks like he could salivate. “C’mere. Let me take a look at ye.”

He flips you around to press your hands to his desk, whilst he’s holding your hips. He flips up your skirts. “Johnny-“

“Quit yer whining, im doing ye a favour.” He coos, hiking up your petticoat and layers underneath to reveal your glistening cunt. “Ain’t that a sight for yer sore eyes..” He almost chokes on his words.

The man had plans, intentions, to wait until your wedding night. To take it nice and slow with deep languid thrusts that had you seeing stars. All of that was thrown out the window as he took in the sight of your untouched opening.

“Ye trust me, lassie?” Johnny grunts.

“Johnny, I-“

He grips your thigh.

“Tryna be nice here, pretty. But it’s damn hard.” He growls. “Do ye trust me?”

You swallow your pride, nodding.

“Oh,” he groans at the confirmation. “Good girl..” Large hands grip your thighs so his tongue can lick a fat stripe up your cunt. The taste of you is so right to him, so… perfect. You were built for him only and he knows it; fated to be his pretty little wife he can come home to after battle.

You’re moaning, biting on your hand to muffle the sound. By god, you’ve never felt anything like this.

Then suddenly, it’s gone.

“Shouldn’t do this to ye, lass. Not one bit. Not proper of me at all, aye?” He pants, leaning back. You almost choke on nothing at the loss of his tongue.

He pulls your skirts down, flipping you back around. “Promise ye. I’ll never let ye go needy once I get that ring on ye finger. Just a couple for days, mo gràidh..”

He’s pressing his face against your stomach, arms keeping you standing between his legs.

“Right…” You pant softly, the loudest sound in the room.

So did you go through with the wedding without a single complaint? Yes. Could you even say you enjoyed it? Sure.

But what came after? That was the entire focus of the evening, apparently.

“Oh, I remember my wedding night..” Older folks would gush.

“Tell us all about it!” Married friends would tease and prod.

You were fed up. What was to come? (You, many times) You couldn’t seem to figure it out, not even as Johnny sat you on the bed with darkened eyes and a firm tone. “

Strip, lovie. Don’t make me do it for ye.”

“J-johnny-“ You mewl, sweat clinging to your body. Your wedding dress is long forgotten on the floor with John’s kilt.

“I got ye, M’eudail. Let go f’me.” John murmurs against your clit that he was just sucking on, whilst his fingers are pressing up into that sweet spongey spot inside of you.

You grip his hair, the feeling making you want to tug him off. “Wait-“ you whimper, hips bucking to chase the feeling that so desperately confuses you.

Johnny doubles his efforts, the smug bastard. “Oh, sweet girl..” There’s that shit eating grin again as he watches you from between your legs as your back arches off the bed. “Troublin’, hm? Don’t know what to do with yerself.” He tuts. “Let go, lass. Let me think for ye.”

His words have you cumming quicker than you’d care to admit.

“Don’t even know what yer feelin’, do ye?” He murmurs, his scottish brogue heavy with lust. “Mm.. ma sweet wifey.” He rides you through your orgasm with lanquid strokes of his thick fingers before climbing up the bed so his forearms rest either side of your head.

“Look at ye…” He grins down at you whilst you catch your breath; utterly ruined. He pushes your hair behind your ear, pressing a sweet kiss to your swollen lips. How awfully tender, considering he just gave you your first orgasm.

“Johnny..” you mewl, hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. You can feel the thick cords of muscle roll beneath your palms

“Aye, sweetheart. Right ‘ere.” He grunts, reaching a hand down to pump his stupidly thick cock a few times. “Deep breath, lassie. Dinnae go stupid on me.” He coos. He presses at your poor, weeping cunt; his tip slick with precum.

He begins to press in, earning a broken whimper from you.

“Johnny-“ you gasp. “I can’t- I can’t take it-“

“Nae. Don’t say that, Mo Gràidh. Little more. Jus’ for me.” He groans, hissing lowly at how perfect you squeeze him; you were made for him.

You cling to anything for purchase, your jaw slack and eyelids fluttering shut. “No, no no-“

“Ye can take it, good girl… relax for me, lass. Let me in.” He grunts, his words an attempt so soothe your panicked confusion.

“Feels good, yeah? Too much to handle, aye?” He soothes, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “I’ve got ye. You’re doing so damn well, shh sh shh…”

You softly gasp, your grip tight as he bottoms out. It doesn’t let up, especially as Johnny decides you can handle even more, and starts pulling out slowly before pressing in again until your hips click together.

“Aren’t ye just fuckin perfect? Aye- look at me. In my eyes, pretty girl. Ye, tell ye husband how good he makes ye feel. Tell me lass.” He coos, a hand lacing into your hair.

“S-so good-“ you whine, hips bucking. “Johnny-“ you choke, his slow, sensual movements becoming more primal.

“That’s right,” He groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. Johnny’s pants are much more obvious as you feel his breath against his shoulder. “Makin’ ye feel so good. Pussy clampin’ around me like a fuckin’ vice.” He groans, his cock pummeling your poor cunt again and again, his pace never slowing.

“Gonna fill ye up nicely. Make you a mam to me heirs..” He growls, his hips stuttering as you cum.

Its a burning hot pleasure that rips through your body, making you feel weak in the legs.

“Ooh,” Johnny intertwines his hand with yours. “There we go… lettin’ go for me like a good girl would. Gonna fuck ye stupid one day, love. Make ye forget ye name.” He growls, his hips slamming against yours as his seed spurts inside you.

“Such a good wifey..”

[kcrossvine-art]

Heya folks n friends! Today on our LotR cooking series, we're going to be making something inspired by Mrs. Maggot, wife of Farmer Maggot. Originally we were going to do a cream of mushroom soup, but the idea of adding meat as a cheeky lil joke on their last names was too good to pass up. In my mind meat goes better with thin soups than creamy ones.

And thus Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew was born.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew?” YOU MIGHT ASKFor the stew portion itself we're going to be using a hearty base, aiming for a layering of flavors. If you feel comfortable making a roux, feel free to do so, but I did not due to energy levels and thus the flour in this recipe is only used for searing the meat before its added to the pot.

Cubed beef

Flour

Peanut oil

Beef stock

Dried porcini mushrooms

Carrots, chopped

Onion, diced

Garlic, crushed

Scallion, chopped

Bay leaf

Salt and pepper

Ground red pepper

Cumin

Zatarins gumbo file

For the other mushrooms, were going to cook them separate and throw them in at the end (but they'll have friends to keep them company!!).

Cremini mushrooms, sliced

Half an onion

Carrots

Garlic

Salt and pepper

Thyme

Olive oil

This took about 4 hours in total. If you have a slow cooker itd probably be easier to use that, but as is isn't too bad either. I mostly worked on commission stuff in the kitchen in-between stirring. "The best food is the one you don't have to make, the second best food is the one you don't have to think while making."

AND, “what does Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

HOT HOT HOT

Tastes like walking from the cold into the cramped but cozy bar your friend works at

Meat was so tender and juicy, melts in your mouth. Makes you cry

It wanst actually carmelization but the onions had a hint of tasting caramelized

Mushrooms- a strong umami flavor with a bit of smokeyness

Once you get that Perfect level of gumbo file, it just makes every other element stick out more

Like an energy booster for the ingredients

A spotlight on the bay leaf, and oils, and spices

. If you don't want to use beef, feel free to use vegetable stock instead and replace the cubes with strips of king oyster mushrooms. Exclude the flour but still cook them in the pan. . this isnt officially part of the recipe since im not sure itd be 'on theme', but feel free to start your rice cooker around the 3 hour mark so you can have some hot rice ready for serving as filler.

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When I was looking through food and food mentions in LotR, Mrs.Maggot just stook out to me. 'Queen amongst farmers wives' is both really sweet and a fuckin killer description. What a legend. I wanted to do something based on her and our two options were either beer, bacon or raw mushrooms. Beer while very appealing is also not something you can whip up in a day, while raw mushrooms have a chance of killing my beloved readers. I don't want to talk about me and bacons sordid past.

And so as praise to this funky farmer women, may you add this stew to your collection of potpie, lasagna, and roast recipes.

Did i mention i started my first grease fire when making this? Yeah. Don't cover any empty greased pan even if your intent is to keep water from splashing into it.

Anyway, this recipe is a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) The partner has already made me pledge to cook it again hehehe

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 lbs cubed beef

A little bit of flour to 'tumble' the meat in, in a bowl

Peanut oil to sear the beef, as needed

3 kilograms beef stock

28g dried porcini mushrooms

4 carrots, chopped

1 white onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, crushed

1 scallion branch, chopped

Salt and pepper to taste

Ground red pepper to taste

Cumin to taste

3 bay leafs

A pinch of Zatarins gumbo file

Ingredients… . . TWO:

1 lb cremini mushrooms

Half of a white onion, diced

1 carrot, chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

Salt, pepper, and thyme to taste

Olive oil as needed to pan-fry

Method:

Put the porcini mushrooms into a bowl, add enough warm water to cover. Give them roughly 20 minutes, or until softened and the waters turned color.

Cut the carrots, onion, and garlic.

Get a large pot with a lid, pour in your stock (or water and bouillon cubes). Pour in the porcinis and the mushroom water. Turn the burner to medium-high.

Add your bay leaves, carrots, onion, and garlic to the pot. Add extra salt if you'd like.

Tenderize and cut your beef into roughly 1 inch cubes.

In a small bowl, pour a handful of flour along with pepper, cumin, and ground red pepper. Mix until combined.

Lightly toss each cube of beef in the mixture, get a little coverage on each side.

Heat a frying pan to medium heat and add peanut oil. If using an electric stovetop it will take time to heat up.

Add some of your beef cubes to the pan, don't overcrowd it. Flip to check sides are a light brown with dark brown edges, its good for some pink/red to poke through.

Add beef cubes to the pot when done, careful of splashing.

Keep doing this in batches until all beef cubes are added. 

 Once the pot has reached a simmer, turn the heat down a few notches and cover.

Set a timer for 4 hours. Taste test every so often. Aim to stir the pot every 10-15 minutes.

(You can do steps 14-21 immediately or optionally wait a bit)

 Rinse and dry your cremini mushrooms.

Slice them vertically. Cut the carrots, onion, and garlic.

In a frying pan on medium-low heat, add olive oil, carrots, and onion. Keep the vegetables moving! When they start to change texture, add your cremini mushrooms.

Bring the pan up to medium heat. 

Once your mushrooms have cooked off the liquid inside, theyll start turning a deeper brown. Add the garlic. Keep! the! vegetables! Moving!

If the pan gets overcrowded, take some out and set it aside in a bowl. Smaller batches.

This process took roughly 15 minutes, but youll know its done once everything has a nice sear on it and the garlic is brown but not burnt. Add salt, pepper, and thyme to taste.

Set everything aside in a bowl.

Once the 4 hours are up the meat should be cooked all the way through and tender enough to pull apart. Strain the bay leaves out. Cut and add scallions. Add the bowl with cremini mushrooms.

Add a pinch of gumbo file to start, stir and taste test.

[theanonymousninja247]

Random Turtle Thunks: Kisses

*adjusts my sunglasses* It'd be softboi hours folks. Tonight I'm thinking about the Rise Boys and their favorite places to kiss you.

*Cookies and Cream Rating: 16+ please*

Raph 🧸♥️:

•Forehead Kisses. Lingering ones right at the tip of your hairline. It's often because its the only place he can reach without having to shift too far down. Often brushing your hair back, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand and tilting your head back juuuuust a little to get that perfect angle for a small smooch. The type of kisses that are full of tender promises and small wholesome moments where he just longs to be soft with you.

•Your shoulder. Chaste presses of his lips to your skin to the crook of your neck. This young Atlas knows a little something about carrying the weight of the world and often that weight settles on the shoulders. These type of kisses serve as a reminder that he understands the struggle, the weight and promises that you don't have to carry it all by yourself anymore. A somewhat protective kiss, reminding you that nothing can hurt you when you're this close to him. That he's here for you, he’ll never leave you and will forever have your back.

Donnie 🤔🟪

•Your nose. I really don't see Donnie being really big into kissing. Like think about it. Kissing is literally just the process of swapping saliva. How uNsAnItArY. *shudders* “Just where has your mouth been? Did you even brush your teeth?!” That being said, a quick peck to your nose is a simple way to fulfill the “touch of the day” box without having to get unnecessarily close and personal. There is work still to be done after all. Not to mention the cute little face you make when you go slightly crossed-eyed at his affectionate gesture is somewhat endearing. It is a very understandable reaction after all. He too would go speechless at such attention from a genuis like himself.

•Behind the corner of your jaw. Donnie doesn't like kissing. That being said, if he is going to engage in such an act, he's going to want to do it right. Never mind him looking up the most sensitive parts of the human body to make sure he plants his affection in the most effective locations. Nevermind that at all. Besides, kissing here that little bundle of nerves seems to do the trick most adequately.

Leo✨💠

•Your lips. “My Lady, if the kisses are words, c’mere. I’ma give you a speech.” No. Like seriously. I know Leo is considered the “medical expert” of the family, but the amount of times this turtle has given you some serious mouth-to-mouth should be illegal. In all honesty though, it really does mean something special to him. For this smooth talking turtle who always knows just what to say, it’s a way for him to shut up and learn how to put some action behind those words. For once, he wants to show you that he means what he says. Because for all the silliness, it was never a joke, his feeling for you.

•Your knuckles. Leo is a one-stinking suave gentleman when he wants to be, and he's not going to let you forget it. Not to mention it’s an easy, inconspicuous way to keep you close so long your hand is entertained with his. Not that he worries when you're out of reach or anything. The cute little increase of color right there on your cheeks as he presses a slow kiss to each fingertip and between your knuckles is also a nice touch. Just lets this face man know he's on the right track or whatever.

Mikey🎨🧡

•Your cheeks. This bundle of affection will give you some sugar anytime, anywhere without hesitation. You can not stop it. It is inevitable. He's so close to you all the time anyway that it just seems second nature to have his cheek squished against you somewhere. He also just loves getting close enough to see your eyes. They really are like windows to the soul, and you have a soul he wouldn't mind getting lost while exploring. So it makes sense to decorate those “windows” with some “Angel Kisses” (He does put the angel in MichelANGELo after all) You know. Just while he's close to you like this. Never mind the heat from your cheeks underneath his hands as he tries to hold you still for your daily barrage of affection is comforting to his scared hands. Never mind that at all.

•Your tummy. There is something incredibly magical about the way you giggle shriek as you try to writhe away when he kisses your tummy. It’s the kind of laugh that means you are happy and in the present moment with him and currently the furthest away from something that hurt you. He just wants you happy and hearing that laugh heals something inside his heart. He loves the way your tummy its so squishy underneath his kneading hands and he can't help but bury his face in your soft skin. Be warned you will not escape without some raspberry blown kisses. Mikey ain't letting you leave without being properly adored that is both a threat and a promise.

[littleguyconnor]

Talking about dubious consent regarding sex below!

AM picked a lot of non-conforming folk out amongst billions. Two gay men, a woman who didn’t really have an interest in sex even before her assault, and Ted who views sex as a bargaining tool. It’s a very interesting choice, especially considering that it’s implied everyone sleeps with Ellen including Nimdok and Benny who don’t even have an attraction to women. Ted is. He doesn’t want it anyway either. No one does. But I think what AM is doing is using that as a means to further traumatize and humiliate all of them. People go insane without some kind of human contact, some kind of affection. And, so, sex is really the only thing left to do. I can’t imagine it’d be easy or even allowed for long enough to just cuddle or something. Plus, many of the characters don’t even like each other that much from being tortured for so long. And AM directly states that making love and having a family is something he wants to do or would want to have as an option. But he can’t. And it’s not just the fact that he can’t have sex is what’s upsetting him, it’s the fact that he can’t experience intimacy as a whole. Love, affection, care, tenderness… anything like that. The 5 can, however, so he turns it into an upsetting experience for them out of spite, loneliness, and jealousy. It’s a sort of… You like this so much? Do it all the time. Even if you don’t want to, kind of mindset.

A lot of people might consider that. Funny, I guess, I’ve seen people call him an “incel” before but really it’s very much not funny. Because he’s a machine. He’s not meant to experience desire of any kind. He’s not supposed to feel anything at all. And now he wants love. He wants. As a whole. And that has to be an incomprehensible feeling of madness and frustration and despair.

[strayy-starss]

✧A/N: I wanted to write some personal headcanons for Alex because I can’t get enough of him like it’s unhealthy at this point. Anyway, remember that these are my own personal headcanons, and no one else has to agree with them! I’m totally open to suggestions as well :).

✧Warnings: mentions of sex and kinks

✧NSFW BELOW THE CUT✧ ⬇

☆NSFW Headcanons for Alex☆

🏈 Okay so have you met this man when you get married?? He’s literally the sweetest guy ever omg. I feel like when he meets the farmer, he becomes a little bit more mature, especially when it comes to sex. I feel like he’d definitely establish ground rules and a safeword with the farmer. 🏈 For the actual fucking, I think he has two modes: he’s literally fucking you so tenderly and sweetly like you’re literally making love, or he’s absolutely railing you like there’s no tomorrow. There’s no in between, I fear. 🏈 When he’s in tender mode I think he would ask for your permission to do literally anything, but then when it comes to him he’s like, “Oh, no, you don’t have to ask me. Just do whatever you want.” Which like that’s really sweet but I’m sure the farmer eventually sits him down and talks about the necessity of consent even for the little things. Don’t worry folks, he’s a quick learner 👍. 🏈 Speaking of, as soon as you say the safeword or tell him to stop, he immediately stops what he’s doing and checks to see if you’re okay. Then he’d probably make eggs or pancakes or something for you because he feels bad and those are like the only things he knows how to cook for whatever reason. Definitely be prepared for lots of cuddles afterward, but if you’re too shaken or don’t want him to, he’ll leave you be and just feel bad while going outside and lifting weights to distract himself. 🏈 However this probably happens very minimally, as he was evidently super popular in high school, and I’m sure he had more than a couple of hookups. He does have a golden star on his jacket, after all. 🏈 If I’m looking based on his character, he probably wouldn’t be that into kinky stuff. Like maybe every once in a while things like bondage or possessive/jealousy stuff when he’s in the mood for it would be okay. He’d probably be open to trying some things that are pretty lowkey on the kink factor, especially if his partner seems into it. Even if he didn’t like it, he’d suffer through it until you were done and then tell you that he’d rather not do it in the future except for maybe something like your birthday.

[updownlately]

it was late at night (you held on tight)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | disclaimer: slight mention of heavy topics- read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this and another ask (that i lost). got it a while ago, inspo struck now, yenno the drill- i do reqs eons after they're sent in. to the anon that req'd it, it's not the most angst to fluff but i hope it's fine? space song just radiates h/c vibes and so yeah...anyways, happy reading folks!

“it was late at night, you held on tight from an empty seat, a flash of light it will take a while to make you smile somewhere in these eyes, i’m on your side" "tender is the night for a broken heart who will dry your eyes when it falls apart?”

~~~

Some nights were good. 

The type of good where breathing came easy. 

Where the air was light, the stars bright.

Nights where friends felt like family, a house a home. 

Dark hours where light shone easily, mind at peace. 

Nights where everything felt okay- good even- for a short while. 

However, tonight? Tonight unfortunately was not one of those nights.

Not when all you could do was sit in the corner of your living room, knees hugged to your chest, eyes trained on your window as you stared at the light-polluted sky. 

Not when all you tried to do was figure out if any one of the stars in the sky was staring down at you, cheering for you, once on this earth, a being, now gone. 

Not when all you were left with was a treasure chest full of memories, ones you so desperately wished you could bury deep, deep into the ground, hopefully, slowly, eventually to be forgotten so you could move on.

Tonight was not a good night, and as you shuffled uncomfortably on the hard floor, your eyes fell on your phone settled beside you, the glaring message from a few minutes ago taunting you, it reminded you painfully so. 

‘Are you okay?’

It had to be criminal, the way she knew you so well. 

Three texts you hadn’t responded to throughout the day and bam, the guess that you weren’t okay. 

You’d call her overprotective if she wasn’t right, but she was, and you didn’t know what to do. 

Hovering over the send button, your eyes traced over what you had typed, having already gone back and changed it nearly four times before settling on debating whether you should send this.

The simple ‘no’ that was typed out in the text box glared back at you almost pleadingly, your heart turning in your chest, the implications of the word terrifying.

You could hit send, and it would be okay. You could hit send and she’d probably come over and it would be alright. You could. But could you really?

Because she’d make the drive out at nearly eleven at night. Because something could happen on the way over and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Because you were supposed to be strong, for fuck’s sake. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of gloominess, right? Because you didn’t need help, you were the helper. Because this wasn’t fair to her, and you didn’t want to be a burden- you couldn’t be a burden. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat as the small voice in your head got louder, you took ahold of your phone, bringing it up to your face. 

You could send this, or you couldn’t. 

You could make it through the night, but she’d make it easier.

You could be strong, but asking for help didn’t make you any weak.

You could sit here and hurt, alone, but you didn’t have to.

Sharply inhaling, your other hand curling into a near-painful fist, nails digging into your palm, you pressed and held the button with the arrow you promptly locked your phone, tossing it gently to the rug in front of you instantly after, the voices in your head getting just a tad bit louder with each passing minute.

You’d be okay…eventually.

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later that you hear the gentle knocks ring through the apartment. 

You make no move to get up, however. 

In fact, you couldn’t get up even if you tried. 

Mind frozen as the consequences of your actions finally set in, all you could do was stay rooted to your spot as you heard another set of knocks ring through before the tell tale sound of a key turning in the lock reached your ears.

Head rising from where it had been resting on your arms, you stared intently at the hallway by your front door, the opening and closing of the door distinct, your breath stilling with each footstep that made its way closer towards you.

“Hey?”

The soft voice floated down the hallway, the lump in your throat lessening ever so slight at the mere sound of the blonde. Yet, you couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, the fact that she was here still not having sunk in.

You listened closely as Alessia’s cautious footfalls slowly picked up pace, the worry clear in her voice as she called out again, this time more confidently.

“Love?”

Just barely finding your voice as she reached the threshold of the living room, your dark figure called out quietly, if nothing than to save her from panicking any further.

“I’m here…”

Your meek reply was accompanied by you raising your hand ever so slightly, one eye wincing as an embarrassed look crossed your face. 

Watching ashamedly as Alessia raked her eyes over your figure, you awkwardly lowered your hand as she stepped towards you.

You waited for her to question you. To question the three texts you had missed earlier. To question why your apartment was bathed in darkness. Why you were on the floor.

You waited for the questions. You waited for the disappointment. 

You waited only for it to never come. 

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you stared, mouth agape, as she silently made way to sit beside you, an arm coming to rest on your shoulder as she stretched out her long legs.

You wouldn’t know it, but you looked like a wreck. The way your hair was unruly, tangles clear as strands flew in every which direction. 

Tear stained cheeks just barely visible in the dim light shining from the window. The way your knees were tucked to your chest made you look tiny, both combining easily to wordlessly convey that you needed a little bit of extra love today. 

It was why Alessia silently made way to sit beside you, ignoring the questions running rampant in her mind.

Letting her emotions make the calls, she quietly let her heart speak, the arm resting on your shoulders gently bringing you closer to her, your head now leaning on her shoulder. 

It seemed like the right move too, with the way you immediately sighed at the contact, tension deflating ever so slightly as you let yourself rest, revelling in the tender care.

And it’s how the pair of you sat, leant up against each other, heartbeat a bit more regular, breaths a bit easier, as the sky got darker, the stars a tad bit brighter. 

Intently watching as you slowly got more comfortable, she took note of your puffy eyes, the dark circles clear beneath them, the tired sag of your shoulders even though you both had been only sat for the past bit. It was clear that the tiredness wasn’t a day to day type of exhaustion, and that worried her the most. 

This wasn’t you- not the normal you. 

The normal you ran on full batteries, always- lovingly nicknamed the team’s very own ‘Energizer bunny’.

The normal you whose smile would light up any room, presence enough to bring a ray of light, airy positivity never too far from where you’d be. 

The normal you that everyone got to see.

But this? The side that not many saw? Alessia wanted to make sure it was a secret for the right reasons. That it remained unknown by many because you never felt low often, because if she could, if it was in her control, she’d make sure that a smile would permanently be on your face, effortlessly. 

So as minutes passed, the quarter of an hour flying by, then nearly a half an hour, the pair of you didn’t move, Alessia well aware that comfort was the best she could give right now.

Despite how uncomfortable the ground had gotten, the blonde didn’t dare say a word, instead choosing to hide her discomfort by turning slightly towards you, arms coming to wrap around your torso and head as you two slouched slightly against the wall.

She’d sit her for as long as you'd need her to.

Consumed by the silence, she rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder blades, hoping the action could provide some sort of grounding presence as your breaths slowly evened, head becoming heavier as it rested, your grip on her arm loosening. 

It was only when the clock nearly hit midnight, when the city slowly geared to a stop, did she speak- a hushed voice squeezing through the calm. 

“Did you eat yet?”

The question had you stiffening, quickly being pulled out of your calming state into one of disdain. 

Because of course she’d know you weren’t taking care of yourself.

Eyebrows furrowing in worry as you shook your head in response, you not meeting her gaze, the striker gently straightened, bringing you up with her. 

“If I make you a snack, and I promise it’ll be a snack, would you have a couple bites?”

Some T&C couldn’t hurt, right?

The gentle question had your stomach sinking, the thought of consuming anything in this state nearly unbearable, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to disappoint her- not after she came to check in on you. 

Hesitantly nodding, you watched as Alessia studied you, the blonde mirroring your nods encouragingly as she began to rise from the ground, hand extended towards you, pulling you up as well. 

Leading you to your kitchen, she helped you settle on a bar stool, foregoing the main lights and instead turning on the range lights, aware that you more likely preferred a darker setting right now.  

Quickly making a sandwich, the blonde presented you with a plate, taking a seat beside you as her hand went to rest on your thigh in quiet reassurance. 

Reaching for one half, so she could encourage you, the Gunner held it out expectantly, small smile on her face as she waited for you to bump yours against her. 

Unable to keep a straight face at her antics, a small but grateful smile broke through your face, Alessia’s mission successful. Bringing your own half up to gently knock against hers before taking a deep breath in, you watched as she eyed you whilst taking a bite out of her sandwich, gesturing at you to do the same. 

Matching your pace, not pressuring you to eat anything you didn’t want but eating with you in support, the both of you managed to slowly but surely finish, your mind already a little distracted from the spiral earlier.

You watched as Alessia gathered your dishes, tossing them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, wiping the island free of crumbs, turning off the light, and washing her hands before making her way over to you once again. 

Intertwining your hands in the dim light from outside, she raised her eyebrows at you, a small yawn escaping her, inciting one from you.

“How are we feeling about heading to bed?”

She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead at your quick small nods of agreement, glad that you were at least coming out of your shell a bit, a tiny but sure indicator that you were pulling out of the storm in your mind.

Leading you both to your bedroom, the other girl well familiar with your apartment and you trusting her easily to guide you, you followed compliantly.

With Alessia quickly changing into a spare set of clothes she kept at your place, and you into a pair of old shorts and an oversized t-shirt from years ago, the both of you quietly did your night time routines, never apart for more than a few seconds.

Be it brushing your teeth or as you took turns cleansing your face, the both of you were attached at the hip, you for your own sanity and the comforting aura of the taller girl, and Alessia because she felt better knowing you were okay beside her. 

It was only when the both of you were ready to sleep did you make your way over to the bed, each going to your own respective sides, having spent the night at each other’s place countless times before. 

Minutes later, when you’re both settled in, cuddled up near the middle of the mattress as you lay your head on Alessia’s shoulder, your body nearly covering hers whilst she had one arm wrapped around your waist and another running through your hair, the room bathed in near darkness save for the light that sneaked through the drawn curtains, you let yourself break gently, the comfort of her arms safe.

Silent tears leaving your eyes, you quickly felt them wiped away by the girl below you, the hand that was running through your hair now resting on your cheek without question, ready to catch any more tears that would fall.

It’s in the shelter of her arms that you let the quiet words slip, the admission causing a stabbing pain in your chest as it reminded you of why life felt so bleak as of late.

“I miss them…”

“I know love, I know….”

There was a pause in the air after the hushed words, Alessia adjusting herself so that her arms came to fully encircle you, trapping you in a bubble of her warmth.

Pressing her lips to your crown, muffled words escaped her, the reassuring tone bringing you a small breath of relief, her belief in you lifting a weight off your chest.

“You’ll be okay though, soon enough, yeah? And until then, you’ve got me, I’m on your side.”

Nodding surely at that statement, not a doubt in your mind that the blonde would always be there for you, like you would for her, you let your grip tighten, the silent thank you easily spoken as you let the tiredness and warmth take over you.

Alessia’s presence making even the worst of nights a little easier, a tad bit more bearable, you let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep, well-aware you were in safe hands. 

Early in the day, or late at night, you knew that at the end of the day, she would be there in an instant to dry your eyes, and you loved her more than ever for it.

[anyasathenaeum]

Cherish You (Vash x Reader smut)

A/N: Hey guys, I'm back from the dead after one hell of a time. Anyways, literally nobody asked for this, I just felt like writing this because Vash is the loml and he deserves to be loved and be given lots of orgasms. I'm still awful at writing smut so please don't perceive me okay thanks bye Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader (female terms used), smut (lots of it), P in V sex, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, FOLKS), overall loving & tender sex, restraints, riding, praise, a hint of angst (poor baby Vash struggles with his self-worth), reader doesn't cum (intentionally), crying Word Count: 4.8k

You had known Vash long and well enough to know when he was having a bad day, just like he was today.

While it may not have been obvious to others, with his troubles well-hidden behind his bright smile and goofy personality, you could see past it all to notice the pain in his eyes. His smile, while blinding to others, was hollow to you, and his goofiness seemed slightly more exhausted and strained than usual, as if he were overexerting himself to keep up the façade of everything being alright.

Sure enough, when the two of you had retreated to the safety of your room in some shabby little inn for the night, the carefully curated mask that Vash wore chipped off piece by piece, revealing the wounded, tortured soul of the man underneath it all. The man who believed he deserved nothing good in this world, that only sadness and evil and death would follow him until the end of time.

The man that you loved more than anything.

"Vash..." You called softly to him, kneeling down in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

You gazed up worriedly into his face, a face so beautiful and yet so marred by pain that didn't belong there.

"Don't worry, Mayfly," Vash replied immediately, looking at you with a weak and tired smile, "I'll bounce back in the morning. I just... don't feel too good right now. I'm sure some rest will fix me right up."

"Don't give me that, Stampede," you retorted immediately, feeling frustration rise within you as you reached up and cupped your lover's face in your hands gently yet firmly. "I'm the one person in this world who can see through your lies. You know that."

Your words, while meant kindly, still made Vash flinch slightly, his eyebrows furrowing as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy sigh. He had no answer to your words, which was an answer in itself - he'd been caught in his blatant lie and he knew it. You knew him better than anybody else, so why did he even bother trying to brush you off, to convince you that he was fine when he was far from it?

You could tell that Vash was struggling with trying to voice what was bothering him, so you waited patiently, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks as you granted him the time and space to find his voice. Instead, you focused on taking in every little detail of his face - his fluffy blonde hair, his beautiful and expressive blue eyes, his soft lips, the curve of his nose, the mole under his eye, every little piece of him.

"I... I can't protect you, (Y/N). Nothing I do ever seems to stop all the death and anguish that seems to haunt me. Nothing I do is good enough. I lose everything and everyone. I'm afraid... that one day, I'll lose you to it all, too. I can't risk losing you, (Y/N). Not you. Never you. You're... you're the one life I can't ever part with, and you're the one person I never deserved."

Vash's words echoed through the empty room, filled with such fear, pain, heartbreak and love that you felt your eyes begin to sting slightly. You looked up just to see the infamous outlaw gazing down at you, his blue eyes watery and filled with the same emotions you'd heard in his voice.

"Shut up."

You couldn't stop yourself, your tone quiet but your words filled with an underlying anger as they spilled forth, your whole body trembling.

"Shut up, Vash. Stop talking like that, you hear me? You deserve love and happiness and peace. Nothing less than any of that. I chose you. My heart chose you, and it continues to choose you each and every day that I live on this planet. It deemed you worthy. So, I don't believe what you're saying for a second. I love you, Vash. I always have. No matter what happens or what has happened, I love you. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, Stampede. Understood?"

Vash's gaze never left you, not even for a second as you spoke, his blue eyes widening at your words and a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he took in what you had said to him. His brain struggled to comprehend how you could possibly love him as much as you did while his heart practically sang in his chest, calling out to its other half that lived in your chest.

As Vash sat there on the side of the bed, seemingly frozen in place, you stood up before pulling Vash tightly into your arms, holding him as close as you possibly could against you, pressing kisses into his soft hair. After a moment or two, you felt Vash's arms wrapping around you in return, one warm and one cold as he pressed you against him, his face burying itself into your belly as he took comfort from you.

You could feel him trembling as he clutched onto you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin as he held you close, soft, shaky whispers of "I love you. I love you, Mayfly" escaping him against your skin as Vash struggled not to cry.

You ran your fingers through his blonde hair, the tips of your fingers just grazing over his scalp in a soothing, gentle motion, attempting to soothe the love of your life as best as you could. You could feel Vash calming slowly, his breathing evening out and his trembling subsiding as he breathed in your familiar scent and took in your comforting warmth and gentle touch.

"Hang on a second," you murmured to Vash gently once he had calmed, stepping away from him for a moment and causing him to whine loudly in protest at the lack of your embrace and warmth.

You quickly stripped off your clothes, piece by piece, as quickly as you could until you were completely bare before walking back over to Vash, whose eyes were wide in surprise at your sudden nudity, a slight blush spreading over his cheeks.

You giggled at the sight of the colour rising in Vash's cheeks, "Why are you blushing, my love? You've seen me naked many times."

"I've also seen the suns rising over the dunes many times in my life, Mayfly. Doesn't make it any less beautiful every time I see it. Just like you," Vash replied, his eyes taking in every bit of your body as you stood before him.

Now, you were the one blushing, looking off to the side for a moment before smiling lovingly at the man sat before you. You reached out and took Vash's flesh-and-blood hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his gently before guiding his hand to your breast, letting it rest on your skin. You heard a shaky little breath escaping him as his hand cupped your breast oh-so-gently, and you couldn't help but smile bigger when you saw how Vash gazed at you, as if you had hung the stars in the sky yourself.

"Let me show you how much I love you, Vash," you whispered softly, your tone gentle yet firm. "Please. Let me cherish you."

Vash swallowed softly, nodding his head slowly in consent as he looked up into your eyes, heat and desire beginning to course through his body. Sex was nothing new between the two of you at this point, but something about how you were looking at Vash and how you spoke to him made him feel like something was going to be different this time.

And sure enough, as Vash reached to pull his shirt off, you quickly stopped him, your smaller hand wrapping around his bigger wrist as best as it could. You shook your head at him, smiling softly when you were met by a confused grin from him.

"I want to take care of you. Completely," you explained, a hint of heat rising to your face.

Vash blushed even darker than before at your words, but nodded assent as he let go of his turtleneck, allowing for you to take over just as you had wanted.

Slowly, silently, with nothing but loving touches and gentle caresses, you worked Vash's shirt off of him, then his boots, his holsters, his pants and his socks, leaving him in just his boxers. Your diligent and tender work of undressing him had already affected him, given the very obvious tent in Vash's underwear and the wet spot darkening and growing on the fabric.

"Sit against the headboard, please," you directed Vash gently, waiting for him to follow your request.

The Humanoid Typhoon seemed a little confused by this, but he nodded as he did as you asked, shifting so his back was resting against the headboard, with him sitting up in the bed. Vash seemed gently restless, unsure of your next move, but he trusted you with his heart and soul.

You were his best friend, his other half, his soulmate. You were the only person who had ever seen him this vulnerable, the only person who knew what Vash sounded like as he cried out and moaned in the throes of passion, the only person who knew what he tasted like. You were the only one who ever felt him inside them, the only one who had been filled by him over and over again as he moaned out confessions of love for you against your skin, the only person who would ever be with Vash that way. He belonged to you heart, body and soul, just as you did to him.

Without a word, you crawled into the bed towards Vash, making your way over to him until you were straddling his lap, your pussy grinding oh-so-gently against Vash through his boxers, pulling a hiss from his lips, his hands coming to grip onto your hips, clenching onto you tightly.

"M-Mayfly! S-Sensitive!" Vash whined out, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself, a wave of pleasure coursing through his veins as you continued to grind against him.

"I know," you cooed gently, continuing your gentle grinding as you watched Vash's expressions carefully, seeing the pleasure he was getting from your touch.

You reached over and took Vash's wrists in your own, removing his hands from your hips and bringing them up gently against the headboard, next to his head. His eyes widened as he watched you hold him, and another soft whine escaped his lips as he tried to grind against your bare pussy, clearly wanting to feel more of you.

"Not fair... wanna feel you, (Y/N)..." Vash pouted at you, gazing at you as you smiled a bit mischievously at him.

"I asked you to let me take care of you, Vash. This is part of that," You replied softly, stopping your movements altogether and making Vash groan in slight frustration at the lack of friction. "Stay here, just like this. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Mayfly," Vash replied, panting softly as he tried to move his hips against you, his entire body aching for just a hint of friction from you.

You giggled as you got off of Vash entirely, teasing him further as you stood up off the bed, making Vash groan even louder, his frustration building as he whined you name, "(Y/NNNNN)!"

You couldn't help but continue to laugh softly as you dug through Vash's bag, looking around for something in particular before letting out a triumphant "Aha!" as you found what you were looking for.

Glancing over at Vash, you grinned softly and said, "Close your eyes, please."

Vash rolled his eyes playfully but conceded, closing his eyes as you made your way back to the bed, getting back into Vash's lap and straddling him once more. Gently, you took the piece of rope you had pulled from Vash's bag and tied Vash's hands to the headboard, being careful to be gentle with him and making him comfortable. When you were done with your work, you smiled softly and sat back in Vash's lap.

"There. Open your eyes, love."

Vash opened his eyes, looking over at his hands to see the ropes now binding him to the bed, and his eyes widened in surprise to see what you'd done.

"M-Mayfly? What is this?"

"You always focus on everybody but yourself. Tonight, I want to focus on just you, Vash. I want to make you feel good, I want to make you feel loved. The way I'm doing that is by ensuring you can't focus on anything but what you're feeling. Okay?"

Your voice was gentle yet firm, your words loving as you explained to the love of your life what you were hoping to do, and you could see the blush on Vash's face darkening as you explained what you wanted to do, his heart fluttering in his chest at your genuine desire to make him feel loved.

With a nod from Vash, you proceeded to gently work his underwear off of him, finally allowing his cock to spring free, already rock hard and throbbing slightly in time to his heartbeat. Globs of precum leaked from the head, dribbling down his shaft just from the few touches you had shared with him, and you felt a spike of desire and confidence go through your body at the sight of just how badly Vash wanted you.

"God, Vash... you're so beautiful," you murmured softly, tracing your hands slowly down Vash's body, taking your time with each and every scar that littered his body.

You knew Vash was sensitive about his scars, about how mutilated and broken his body looked, but to you, he was nothing short of angelic, a being of beauty beyond compare. You loved every tiny piece of him, scars and all, and you wanted to ensure that Vash understood that, that that knowledge was engraved in his soul.

A soft little whine escaped Vash as you traced down his body, your fingertips grazing over his scars with a featherlight touch, and all he could think about was just how badly he wanted to hold you, kiss you, and touch you. Vash found himself tugging against the ropes holding his hands in place, but you giggled softly and leaned in towards him, your lips teasingly a mere few centimeters away from his.

"Ah, ah, ah... no touching, Vash. Tonight's about you," You scolded him playfully.

Vash simply whined, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of pleasure, pleading and frustration, wanting nothing more than to feel you against him, to be able to hold you and touch you to his heart's content. While you weren't fully going to give into his pleading puppy-eyes, you decided that you would allow yourself to rest against him, straddling him once again and now grinding your bare pussy against the sensitive skin of his cock, a soft gasp escaping Vash's lips as he finally felt you against him.

You began to move slowly, biting your lip and letting out soft, muffled moans of pleasure as your soaked folds glided over Vash's cock, his tip nudging your clit with each thrust of your hips. You could feel Vash tensing against you, soft whimpers and pants escaping his lips as he strained against the ropes restraining him once more as you rubbed your pussy against him. The fact that he couldn't hold you as you moved against him and teased him like this was driving him crazy. Vash knew that he could easily break free from the ropes restraining him from you, but instead, he allowed you to continue your thrusts, opting instead to get lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

"B-Beautiful," you moaned against Vash's throat, pressing soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses to his skin as you continued to press your pussy against his cock, rocking back and forth with a bit more pressure, "You're so beautiful, Vash. S-So beautiful, and so good... God..."

Your loving praise mixed with such sensual and intimate touches made Vash shudder in a way you had never felt him before, his head slumping against your shoulder as you felt his whole body tensing, a loud moan escaping him as you felt his cock throbbing against your pussy.

"M-Mayfly, ha-ah! I- I'm gonna-... I'm gonna cum!" Vash cried out, his body trembling slightly against you as he felt his orgasm approaching faster than it had ever done so before.

"Cum for me, my love," you encouraged Vash gently, continuing your gentle praise and bringing your fingers up to his hair, tugging it gently as you pulled him into a passionate kiss, finally giving him a taste of you. "That's it. Cum for me. I love you. Cum for me."

With a soft cry of your name against your lips as he returned your kiss with equal passion and need, you could feel Vash coming undone beneath you. His cum spurted all over your cunt, coating both your folds and his abdomen with his seed as his orgasm washed over him, wave after wave of pleasure washing over him. Vash closed his eyes as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, panting heavily as he struggled to recover from his orgasm.

You continued running your fingers through Vash's hair as he snuggled into you, cooing to him gently as you held him close to you, "Breathe slowly, my love. Deep breaths... that's it. You did amazing. I love you so much."

Vash shivered slightly in your hold, pulling back a bit to look into your eyes, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed from your praise and the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. As you shifted in Vash's lap, you quickly realized that despite cumming mere moments ago, his cock was still rock hard and throbbing once again, clearly still aching for you.

"(Y-Y/N)..." Vash panted softly, looking up at you with need and slight desperation, his tone and his gaze indicating how much he still wanted and needed you.

You didn't respond, instead leaning down and pressing another softer and gentler kiss against Vash's lips, your hands gliding down his body slowly. As you reached the base of Vash's cock, you sat up a little and guided Vash to the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your core, sinking down slowly and pushing the tip of Vash's cock into you.

The moment he entered you, a loud whine escaped Vash's lips as a gasp escaped from you, the feeling of him stretching you out and filling you making you see stars as you settled into his lap, allowing him to fully bottom out within you.

"I love you," Vash began to babble softly the moment he felt your pussy clenching down around him, his face burrowing into your neck once again as he pressed desperate kisses against your skin, frantically beginning to thrust up into you in order to feel more of you around him, "I love you so much, (Y/N), you feel so good, please... please... I need you. I want you, (Y/N), please... God, I love you."

"I love you, too, Vash. I love you so much," you moaned softly in return, pressing your palms against Vash's chest to steady yourself as you began to bounce in his lap, driving his cock deeper and deeper into you.

Endless praise spilled forth from your lips as you drove Vash deeper and deeper into you, your pussy tightening around him as he brushed that perfect spot deep inside you with each thrust. Any and all thoughts left your mind except for wanting to make Vash cum over and over again while telling him how good he was, how perfect and how beautiful, how much you loved him and how good he made you feel.

"You're everything t-to me," you gasped out, grinding down on Vash and driving his cock even deeper into you, your cunt milking him and pulling endless whines and moans from his lips as you did so, "You're my world, Vash. My universe. I-I love you, I'll always love you."

The sounds escaping Vash changed suddenly, his whines and moans suddenly becoming soft whimpers and little hiccups, and you could feel his body trembling against you in a way unlike before. As you pulled away to look at him, you realized that Vash was crying in your embrace, crystalline tears coursing down his cheeks as he looked up at you, his bottom lip quivering as he tried not to sob openly.

"Vash..." you whispered softly, slowing your movements and bringing your hands up to cup his face gently, brushing away his tears, your heart aching at the sight of his tears. "Shh... it's alright."

Vash wasn't entirely sure why he was crying - you were in the middle of making him feel amazing, and yet, as he heard your words, words of love and tenderness and devotion, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. How did somebody whose hands were as stained with blood as his end up with somebody as incredible, kind and pure as you? How did your heart belong to somebody like him? Thoughts swirled endlessly through his mind, his emotions overwhelming him as you sat in his lap, holding him close and caressing his face gently.

"Look at me, love."

Your voice was gentle yet insistent, tilting his face up so Vash could look you in the eyes. You pressed gentle kisses all over his face, untying Vash's hands from the headboard and allowing him to finally wrap his arms around you tightly, clutching onto you tightly as he buried his face into your bare chest, soft sobs escaping him as he held you close.

"I l-love you s-so much," Vash whimpered softly against your skin, holding you as close to him as he possibly could as his emotions overwhelmed him. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)... I-I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, my love," you replied immediately, kissing his face gently, "You're allowed to feel overwhelmed. It's okay. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Another soft sob escaped Vash's lips, but instead of burying his face into you, he tilted his face up and pressed his lips to yours in a passionate, emotional and surprisingly tender kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you against him. This kiss was Vash's way of showing you just how much he needed you, how much you meant to him, how much he loved you and never wanted to be parted from you for as long as he lived. Vash's heart ached for you, wanting nothing but to spend the rest of his life by your side, loving you, making love to you, protecting you and being happy with you, if only the universe would allow it.

A sudden upward thrust from Vash in the middle of your tender moment made you gasp against his lips, the feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against that perfect, gummy spot inside of you making your whole body shudder in his grasp. His movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring both of you could feel him thrusting every inch into you as he kissed you and held you close. Both of you moaned and whined against each other's lips, and you began to grind your hips against Vash's in time with his thrusts, somehow driving him even deeper than before.

"L-Love you," Vash borderline sobbed against your throat, "I lo-love you, Mayfly. Love you so m-much, (Y/N)."

You felt your orgasm beginning to build as Vash continued his thrusts, and you matched his tender and loving movements, trying to focus on him rather than on the pleasure you were feeling. You decided then and there that you would forfeit your pleasure in favour of ensuring Vash was looked after rather than him looking after you. You reached down and pressed down on Vash's hips, silently asking him to stop his thrusts as you continued your own movements, wanting to make him feel good.

"I love you," you gasped out softly in reply, grinding and bouncing slowly and more intentionally in Vash's lap, plunging his cock deeper and deeper into you and pulling the most beautiful sounds from him. "I love you more than anything. I'll always love you, Vash. Always. You're mine and I'm yours."

A strangled sound, half a sob and half a whine, escaped Vash's throat suddenly as he clutched onto you, pulling you down hard into his lap and holding you flush against him with incredible strength as he buried himself inside you completely, "(Y-Y/N)!"

With the cry of your name, you felt Vash spill himself inside you, his cock throbbing as his seed coated your walls in white and spilled out of you as he filled you more than he ever had before, the sticky substance pooling on Vash's thighs. His whole body was shaking against you as he came down from his orgasm, his heart pounding as he tried to calm himself down and recover from it all.

"It's okay, love," you whispered gently, embracing Vash and holding him against you tightly, letting his head rest against your chest as your orgasm slipped away from you, your pleasure disappearing. "I love you, it's okay, Vash. Breathe. I've got you."

Vash's breathing slowed gradually, his eyes sliding shut as he rested against you for a moment until his body suddenly stiffened and he sat up, his eyes wide and filled with concern as he looked at you in alarm.

"(Y/N), wait... wh-what about you?! You didn't-!"

"And I'm not going to," you cut Vash off gently yet firmly, "I'm not interested in my own orgasm right now, Vash. I just want to focus on you, love. Not me. I told you that from the beginning, didn't I?"

"But this isn't fair! You've made me cum twice, a-and... I've done nothing for you in return!" Vash exclaimed, his expression borderline upset as he took your face in his hands, looking at you worriedly.

You couldn't help but laugh at how endearing Vash was, and you kissed the palms of his hands before placing your hands overtop of his on your cheeks, intertwining your fingers with his.

"It's not a big deal, Vash," you laughed softly, gazing at him with tenderness and love.

"It is to me!" Vash exclaimed immediately, frowning and pouting as he tugged you closer to him.

"How about this, then? Let me take care of you for a little while longer, and then, afterwards, if you still want to, you can do what you'd like to make me feel good. Deal?" You offered, cocking your head to the side as you gazed at the love of your life.

"Deal."

Vash didn't hesitate to take you up on your offer before leaning in and kissing you again, this kiss gentle, loving and sweet rather than lustful and passionate. His embrace was strong, yet gentle, and as Vash held you close, he felt an overwhelming sense of true peace for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. In loving him and cherishing him as you had, not just tonight but every day before this, you had shown Vash what he meant to you. You had shown him just how much you loved him and believed in him, and it made his heart swell and break simultaneously.

"I don't know how somebody like me could ever deserve somebody as precious as you."

Vash's words made your heart ache in your chest, and you shook your head resolutely as you pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes and taking a deep, slow breath before answering, "You deserve so much more than just me, Vash. You deserve the world."

"You are my world, (Y/N). You always have been and always will be, for as long as I live."

You couldn't help but kiss Vash once again, wanting nothing but to spend the rest of your life burrowed in his embrace, but you pulled away so you could clean both yourself and him off and continue taking care of him.

"Come on, my love. I'll run you a bath and you can soak your muscles. You've worked hard, you need to rest," you offered gently, standing from the bed and heading to the bathroom to do as you suggested.

Vash sighed happily as he slumped back against the headboard and watched you walk to the bathroom, a blush on his cheeks and a goofy little smile on his face. His heart was still awash with a flurry of emotions and residual pleasure, but the most prominent thing he felt in that moment was overwhelming love for you as he let out a quiet whisper that nobody but he could hear.

"Gods, how I love you, Mayfly. I will spend a thousand lifetimes trying to deserve you."

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 1 starters

❝ it’s wanting that gets so many folks in trouble. ❞ ❝ it ain’t no secret i didn’t get these scars falling over in church. ❞ ❝ if you win power, remember why you wanted it. ❞ ❝ you do a man wrong, he’ll shoot you for it. you do a man right…well, he still may shoot you for it. ❞ ❝ trust me. there’s things you’re better off not knowing. ❞ ❝ you remind me a lot of myself. how i used to be. stubborn and angry. ❞ ❝ i hope you will give me some warning if you get the sudden urge to kill me. ❞ ❝ my side wasn’t chosen. my side was given. ❞ ❝ a little sore, but apart from a couple extra scars, it will be as nothing happened. ❞ ❝ i don’t think you’re a bad person. a little stupid perhaps, but not rotten. ❞ ❝ i certainly don’t mind you asking, if you don’t mind me not telling. ❞ ❝ you are being deliberately obscure as a substitute for having a personality. ❞ ❝ so do tell me, have you needlessly risked your life since we last spoke? ❞ ❝ i came into this world fighting. and i’ll go out of it fighting. ❞ ❝ i hear you speak and suddenly i'm reminded of how the people i respected most in my life had a problem with authority. ❞ ❝ you're looking much better. considering you were almost buzzard food a couple days ago. ❞ ❝ power is like a drink. the more you have, the more you want. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ sometimes in the service of what is right, you got to do terrible things. ❞ ❝ you have quite a story. i really am a little jealous. ❞ ❝ old friends make the worst enemies. ❞ ❝ i had everything, and gave it up in the pursuit of nothing. ❞ ❝ hah. you were always bad at lying. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to stand by and watch good people suffer. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. ❞ ❝ now, if you don't mind, i'd hate to spoil such a beautiful afternoon on such beautiful land with any further unpleasantries. ❞ ❝ i, too, have a family, friend. and so that we may see our families again i suggest we part ways amicably. ❞ ❝ sometimes i tell myself that everything happens for a reason. ❞ ❝ i see the good in everybody. it’s a flaw of mine. ❞ ❝ well, try not to get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ see if you can keep your gun holstered for once. ❞ ❝ i don’t pay much attention to rumors. ❞ ❝ i swear, if it was down to me, i’d never have gone anywhere. ❞ ❝ lock all the doors. whatever happens, don’t come outside. you hear me? whatever happens. ❞ ❝ what would you care? i’m just a nuisance to you anyway. ❞ ❝ i’ve been hearing some things about you. ❞ ❝ i would rather be dead than a cynic like you. ❞ ❝ damn, a little gratitude wouldn’t kill you. ❞ ❝ trust me, i ain’t no hero. ❞ ❝ as it turns out, it's you or me. the way i see it, might as well be you. ❞ ❝ you live in a dream world. it ain’t like they tell it in books. ❞ ❝ i’m asking you to do what i say, before you get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ those who sit on the fence make a choice…in their own way. ❞ ❝ i’d do anything for you, you know that. ❞ ❝ better watch your mouth, my friend. i've cut out a man's tongue for less. ❞ ❝ there's nothing worse than a nobody thinking he's a somebody. ❞ ❝ you got it all wrong. i’ve always loved you, even now. ❞ ❝ what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own? ❞ ❝ first impressions are hard to erase. ❞ ❝ it’s a long story. too long to tell without a drink in my hand. ❞ ❝ i’m not angry. i’m disappointed. ❞ ❝ you know me. i’ll be late to my own funeral. ❞ ❝ that tone of voice ain’t so becoming on you. makes you seem all pent up and angry. ❞ ❝ you think i don’t know who you are. ❞ ❝ why don’t i get a warm and tender embrace? ❞ ❝ what do you want me to say? yippee? ❞ ❝ there’s always a choice. you’re just too blind to see. ❞ ❝ you’re not ready for that yet. one step at a time. ❞ ❝ every time you go off, i worry you’re not coming back. ❞ ❝ it didn’t have to be this way. ❞ ❝ come on now. try to look on the bright side. ❞

❝ after all i taught you…i’m ashamed. ❞ ❝ it’s easy to make promises you can never keep. ❞ ❝ we all make mistakes. i never claimed to be a saint. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to kill hundreds of men in cold blood? ❞ ❝ it ain’t the first time i had a gun to my head. ❞ ❝ you’re not perfect, and i’m sure not. but you’re better than they are. ❞ ❝ you alright? you’re not hurt, are you? ❞ ❝ this really couldn’t have gone more horribly wrong. ❞ ❝ you’re just like me. you can’t change who you are. ❞ ❝ my whole life, all i ever did was fight. ❞ ❝ you’re in no position to make demands. ❞ ❝ the bright side? there ain’t no bright side. ❞ ❝ my heart’s beating like a drum. ❞ ❝ are you sure you’re alright? i mean, i know all that business must have been hard on you. ❞ ❝ you’ll make me blush with all these kind words. ❞ ❝ i never took you for the jealous type. ❞ ❝ come now, you’re stupid, but you’re not that stupid. ❞ ❝ you’re weak. you always were. you never had the stomach for this. ❞ ❝ seems real quiet, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ you were always a hard and nasty man. ❞ ❝ see, i have nothing but your best intentions at heart. ❞ ❝ don’t talk about things you don’t understand. ❞ ❝ i guess there’s only one room for one hero in this family. ❞ ❝ for a wise man, you are a really stupid man. ❞ ❝ what would have happened if i hadn’t come along? ❞ ❝ you must have mistaken me for someone else, friend. ❞ ❝ you ain’t very talkative, are you? ❞ ❝ we cannot be too careful. the world is very dangerous. ❞ ❝ no, i’m not okay. do i look like i’m okay? ❞ ❝ you are so tense all the time. come, let’s have some fun! ❞ ❝ i will stay and fight. i am ready to die if necessary. ❞ ❝ i know i can’t change the past but i’m sure gonna do something about the future. ❞ ❝ i’ve given you no reason not to trust me. ❞ ❝ choose your tone rightly. remember who you’re talking to. ❞ ❝ there are guards everywhere. if they see you, they will kill you. ❞ ❝ it was nothing. i’m not a kid any more.❞ ❝ a lonely, forsaken place. some people say it’s haunted. ❞ ❝ i’m not sure your idea of paradise and mine are the same. ❞ ❝ maybe if you were more cordial to folks, they’d be better inclined to help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve been in far worse situations. ❞ ❝ you have the exterior of a violent man, but the soul of an angel. ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you? ❞ ❝ you’re no better. how many men have you killed? ❞ ❝ stay alert. something doesn’t feel right. ❞

❝ i'm going to hand you over to them and watch them tear you limb from limb…i'm just kidding. ❞ ❝ you love to talk badly of other people because it makes you feel better about yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s been a pleasure spending time with you. ❞ ❝ that’s a lot of sacrifice. i just hope it’s worth it. ❞ ❝ i’m not cut out for this. no, not cut out for this at all. ❞ ❝ i don’t need you to show me. ❞ ❝ men are born, and then they're formed. at least, that’s how i see it. ❞ ❝ a little flattery…now we’re finally getting somewhere. ❞ ❝ i thought you were supposed to be fearless. ❞ ❝ you are a man who has lost his spirit. ❞ ❝ if you were less secretive, people might be more inclined to trust you. ❞ ❝ me mean me no harm? this is funny. what harm could you do to me, exactly? ❞ ❝ come on, after everything we’ve been through, i think we can trust each other, don’t you? ❞ ❝ i can’t rightly believe it. just like in the books. ❞ ❝ i didn’t ask for your help back there. i owe you nothing. ❞ ❝ be careful. what’s stopping me from killing you? ❞ ❝ one day, i promise you, you’re gonna regret this. ❞ ❝ you know i’ll do whatever i can, but i have problems of my own. ❞ ❝ what would you know about leadership? ❞ ❝ you make a choice by not making a choice, you know. ❞ ❝ hold your excuses until you figure out which one to use. ❞ ❝ i'll give you a bad case of "someone just shot me in the head" if you don't hurry up. ❞ ❝ being honest though, this tastes bad enough to kill a man. ❞ ❝ do i look like i need saving? ❞ ❝ sarcasm should be beneath a man such as you. ❞ ❝ are you always this stupid or are you making an extra effort today? ❞ ❝ i don’t like to kill a man on his knees, even if he deserves it. ❞ ❝ don't forget you need me more than i need you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you to hell and back. ❞ ❝ you’d best not be lying to me. ❞ ❝ let's get going. before the weather gets any worse. that sky don't look good.. ❞ ❝ thank you for telling me all that back there. it must have been hard for you. ❞ ❝ i know we ain't exactly old pals, but…have i ever done you wrong? ❞ ❝ your nobility's almost as affecting as your naivety. ❞ ❝ you are a romantic who wants to be a cynic. ❞ ❝ i apologize if i seem to be prying. ❞ ❝ strange place for a decent person to visit, if you don't mind me saying. ❞ ❝ well, you must admit…it's an unusual start to a friendship. ❞ ❝ i can’t really say i understand you. ❞ ❝ every man has a right to change, a chance of forgiveness. ❞ ❝ hello, old friend. it’s been a long time. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand now why i've been playing my cards somewhat close to my chest. ❞ ❝ nobody made my path but me. ❞ ❝ it’ll be a piece of cake. trust me. ❞ ❝ oh, don’t be so deliberately enigmatic. ❞ ❝ my word, what a difficult life you’ve lived. ❞ ❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞ ❝ stay and fight me, you coward. ❞ ❝ i ain't planning on staying very long. ❞

[616witch]

Hi there! As a pretty casual Avengers fan, I haven’t read too many runs that portray the relationship between Wanda and Vision. Why do fans like this ship? And why do some Wanda fans seem to dislike Vision? Are there any runs or comics that show the good or bad of this pairing?

Hello! I'm going to answer this question because I love these characters and I love to waffle about them, but also just going to remind people that I also have a personal account over at @brw where I talk more about stuff like this! This account is almost a portfolio of my graphic design, as well as an archive for comic art and editing resources and other graphic designers, with a few odd extra things I think are cool that I want on this blog. I try to refrain from posting too much commentary or the like here, just because I want to keep it very focused on my creations and the creations of other folks. With that out of the way, I'll dive into this!

Why do fans like this ship?

Well, I can only speak to my experience as a 616 ScarletVision fan, and from engaging with different fans through the years, but these are only my personal takes and some observations. Everyone you ask could give you a different answer, and none of them would be wrong.

For me, the personal pull is, first and foremost–I really like both of these characters. They both have a very distinctive design, they both have very strong core aesthetics, they both have dramatic, strong personalities and they both have a very distinguished speech pattern, so their relationship would always be interesting to me, because it combines so many different things that I love. Without being a fan of Vision and Wanda separately as characters, I wouldn't like this relationship as much as I do.

Anyway, beyond just generally liking their respective vibes, I've always appreciated just how dramatic and intense these two are. Vision and Wanda definitely feel like their respective first, proper adult relationship, at least in my opinion. This might be divisive, as Wanda and Warren Worthington III did date in First Class, but that relationship to me read more teenage and youthful, while Vision and Wanda are very much so swept in the emotional and physical intensity that they develop for each other very rapidly in their Avengers appearances together. That dramatic, strong personality they both possess makes their relationsip very dramatic and over the top, which I find a delight to read.

Giant Size Avengers #4 (1974)

Even when they get married, this drama doesn't really go away, and the bio of this blog comes from one of my favourite issues depicting these two and their dramatic sensibilities.

Marvel Super-Heroes V2 #10 (1992)

This panel brings us into our second reason, which is that there's something really interesting about the way these characters are both social outcasts for a variety of reasons; Wanda is Rromani, a mutant and a witch, and Vision is a synthezoid, completely non-human and unable to fit into human norms and customs. A big theme of these two and their relationship is having a similar lived experience because of the ways they are social outcasts, and of their love becoming stronger than the adversity that they face because of it.

Avengers V1 #113 (1973)

To me, its a very engaging story, and it's well compounded by again, how dramatic and high-energy these two are, the ways they show and perform their love for one another. They're also often very bitter and angry at the world for the way it mistreats them, which is an interesting character trait for both of them as other characters (like Pietro) are often written as antagonists for those opinions. And this of course makes it more special when they are so tender and loving around each other, the ways they can find solace and peace in one another.

They also just generally brought out the best in one another during their marriage, in my opinion. Vision's stoic, dependable personality and their support for Wanda while she was exploring her magic with Agatha Harkness was incredibly important as she developed and grew from a mutant with magical themeing, to a powerful witch in her own right. It is Vision who taught Wanda the principal of "Order and Chaos belong together", which is a really important line of thought for her. And Vision of course becomes increasingly more in tune with their own emotions, more emotionally mature and more developed as a person as their relationship with Wanda develops. They go from a traumatised, bitter person angry at the world, with essentially no emotional regulation skills because they're like three days old, to being a loving, deeply compassionate and considerate spouse and parent, who has built their own family in spite of the isolation they grew up with.

There's probably other reasons I'm missing, but these are the big ones in my opinion, why I keep coming back to these two despite not being together for 30, 40 odd years.

Why do some Wanda fans not like Vision?

There are a few different reasons for these, so I'll do my best to be brief. Some reasons are more than valid and are worthy critiques and understandable reactions and feelings to have, and others, quite frankly, are complete horseshit made up by people who feel like their dislike of Lines On Paper has to be justified, or righteous, and can't allow it to just be. I'm focusing this list on specific reasons they dislike Vision, not people just preferring other relationships like WandaJericho or ScarletPhoenix or what have you.

Just not the type of character they like. Which is understandable. Not every character works for every person, and sometimes disliking a character isn't that deep! People are allowed to not like lines on a sheet of paper, after all.

Character and ship was ruined for them by the MCU, and MCU fans. Also understandable, although I wish that didn't mean that all the actually interesting parts of the 616 Vision/Wanda dynamic was ignored, but what can you do.

Has a difficult and varied history of being coded as a minority by various (very white, very American) writers during the 70s and early 80s, which have not aged well. A big inspiration for Vision was Spock from Star Trek, who is obviously a biracial character and faces a lot of discrimination for this, and this was part of the character makeup of Vision and it was often a source of allegory, as well as a source of drama in Wanda and Vision's relationship. Not an often well done aspect of their character, and not very tasteful. This writing turned off some people, which is understandable (although if you're asking me, which you are, it's not any more egregious than X-Men coding but that's neither here or there)

Vision's character development and prioritisation in the 70s came at the expense of Pietro. This one is true; Steve Englehart, for whatever reason, decided that as Vision and Wanda's relationship became more fully fledged and he was going to continue with Vision's minority coding, that Pietro was going to be an antagonistic and often allegorically racist person to give that dynamic more drama. This was fixed when Moondragon decided to lobotomise him because I guess actually writing character development was too much work, but it still means a solid chunk of Pietro's 70s appearance are marked by this. It's a shame, because I think there's a way to write this antagonism in a way that makes sense and is narratively fulfilling, but that's not the conversation at the moment. I do appreciate this as a reason of why some people have never quite worked with Vision (although given that this hasn't been true in the past 20, 30 odd years of publication history I find it strange as a reason to dislike modern Vision but I'm biased in this conversation)

Writers reduced Wanda to her relationship with Vision. This is, frankly, bullshit, and I really don't know where it came from. There's a slight argument for pre-Byrne Wanda and especially early 70s Wanda, but I can still name a few different issues during the period of their marriage where Wanda had her own adventure outside of Vision, and the thing is folks; Vision wasn't getting many solo appearances or stories during their marriage, either. Post Byrne, it really doesn't make sense. Wanda was reduced to her grief and her mental illness, yes, which were caused by the traumatic dissolution of her marriage to Vision, but that isn't the same as her being reduced to her marriage. Later on, what Wanda is reduced to is House of M and the Decimation; this has nothing to do with Vision. Sure, if you're reading Roy Thomas/Steve Englehart early 70s Avengers, maybe, but these are only two writers in a sea of people who have handled these characters, so this argument doesn't hold water for me.

Vision is abusive. Anyone who says this shouldn't be reading comics, they should be watching Blue's Clues. Vision can be mean, or blunt, or emotionally distant, or bitter–but that does not mean Vision is abusive, that means that comics exaggerate personality traits for the sake of drama. It's a soap opera! And to be honest, any argument you can apply to them can apply to virtually any comic relationship from the era. That's just the writing style, it doesn't mean that Vision is an abusive figure.

Vision made a robot version of Wanda, which was creepy and weird. True, but using a Tom King comic to talk about Vision is like using a Bendis comic to talk about Wanda. Neither of these writers had good intentions with these characters, or particularly cared about or respected them as characters and what they're meant to represent. Vision (2015) was a bad, deeply racist and xenophobic comic written by a CIA agent who admitted freely to torturing people as if it was a fun little tidbit. Unless you're using it to criticise Tom King's racism, I have zero interest in acknowledging this comic in the history of these two.

Vision's character comes at the expense of Jim Hammond and Simon Williams. I... don't see this one? Both the revelations that Vision had a relation to Jim and Simon came after their initial debut, and Vision is a distinct person and design from both these characters. Writers can use Jim and Simon whenever, and they often do. There is just that historical/familial connection, to try and build up connections in the Marvel Universe, but it isn't as if the character of Vision RUINED Jim and Simon, or whatever. In fact, Simon would have never been remembered and brought back from the dead to be honest without Vision keeping his character alive in the memory of people. The same is arguably true for Jim, who wasn't really used in post Timely marvel comics at all until the Vision connection was established. And if any character ruined Jim Hammond's prospects in comics, it would be Johnny Storm, the character who is considered the definitive Human Torch, not Vision, who only dedicated comic fans probably know of the Jim Hammond connection.

Vision cheated on Wanda with Mantis. A) no they didn't, B) Steve Engelhart just has a weird cheating thing, so I really don't consider this a big deal. Don't believe me? In the Fantastic Four: Big Town series he did, there's a moment where it is heavily implied that Hank Pym and Charles Xavier are having some kind of affair to contrast with the affair Janet and Tony Stark are having. It's just a quirk of his. Also, you can't blame Englehart for making everyone fall in love with Mantis, that's his girl.

Vision has no emotions and can't emotionally fulfil or love Wanda. Anyone who says this has probably not passed basic English class, because my G-d, how do you miss the point of a character that badly. Avengers #57 didn't die for this.

And finally, I think a lot of people only care about Wanda in relation to the Magetfam dynamic and aren't particularly interested in her realtionships on the Avengers at all, despite the fact that that is who she is far more than being an X-Man. They don't really like that she's on the "cop team", so any relation to it is dismissed or ignored in favour of her having more relationships with mutant characters. Every time Vision appears in a Wanda comic, despite the fact that they are the parent of her children, someone she spent years of her life with, her first proper love and someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, it has to be "forced", regardless of how ridiculous an idea that is. It's dumb, and stupid, and I don't think these people really care about Wanda as a character, but that's probably just me being a nasty little hater.

Runs and comics I recommend for this couple

Good or bad can be subjective; I've seen people read completely differently into a scene I thought was sweet, or creepy, or whatever, so I'll just send a list of what I consider good issues to get a handle on these two. Bolded are important, italics are just bonus issues that might be of interest.

Avengers V1 #91–#93

Avengers V1 #96

Avengers V1 #113

I (heart) Marvel AI <- AU issue, but cute

The Celestial Madonna arc (#124, #125, #129–#135, Giant Size Avengers #2–#4)

Avengers V1 #147

Marvel Team-Up V1 #41–#42

Marvel Fanfare #14

Marvel Fanfare #58 (Their house here is burned down in Avengers V1 #252)

Marvel Super-Heroes V2 #10

Vision and the Scarlet Witch V1 & V2, V2 also crosses over with West Coast Avengers V2 for the first 4 or so issues.

West Coast Avengers V2 #34–#36

What If? V1 #20, #38

West Coast Avengers V2 #42–#46 is the Vision Quest arc, and is the dissolution of their marriage.

Hope this helps, anon!

[bcolfanfic]

~ person a and person b staying up so late to talk to each other without even paying attention to the time. and then they fall asleep on the phone with each other ~

this on “mutual crush prompt list” but was wondering if we could change it up a little bit for angst purposes and make it so its the first work trip buck has to take months after bucky’s suicide attempt so they’re on the phone all night.

my babiess. for new-to-me folks, this is based off my young veterans modern au- specifially this fic.

---

John unlocked his phone, relocked and unlocked it again, squinting at the brightness before he swiped up to lower it.

10:50

He'd talked to Gale four hours ago and they'd said their goodnights then. It was even later in New York- almost one in the morning to be exact.

Gale was probably asleep or getting close to it, and John didn't want to call him. Wanted to let him rest before he had to go be in academic mode all day, wanted to prove to himself just as much as his husband that he could get through a night alone.

But the longer he laid in the dark the itchier he felt.

There was something in a flask under the mattress that would take the itch away without waking Gale- the only thing keeping him from it being how tired he was down to the bone. Too tired to lift the mattress.

He swiped open to Gale's contact and pressed the small phone icon, sucking in the right side of his cheek.

It barley rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey hon," He said softly, and if he hadn't been asleep he sounded like he was getting pretty close to it. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm." John said, letting his cheek back out with a small exhale. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't be. But you know I gotta ask again. You okay?"

Gale Gale Gale. Ever the perceptive one.

"Don't wanna make you feel guilty for going." He said quietly, eyes fixated on a thread coming loose in their comforter. He hated that he could feel his eyes starting to sting. Being vulnerable was still, as his therapist referred to it a skill there was room for progress on.

Whether he knew somewhere in his head that Gale needed no prompting to feel hesitant about going to this conference was irrelevant. John had practically had to push him through the automatic doors of the airport terminal when he'd dropped him off, but guilt clawed at him anyways.

"Hey- no." Gale said on the other end, and John could hear him sitting up a little. "Not gonna do that, so tell me what's going on?"

"Just miss you." He said. "I'm not feeling bad y'know?" He continued, opting for a euphuism- not wanting to say the words that'd be needed to spell it out exactly out loud. "Just weird being alone I guess. I dunno."

It was quiet for a moment, like it always got when Gale figured he might have more to say when he actually did.

"Think you might be able to get some sleep if I stay on the line till you're out?" He said finally, so tender for someone who had to be up in just about five hours that it made John's chest tight.

"Don't have to do that." John replied, predicting the protest he got before it left Gale's mouth.

"Yeah, well I want to- so let me? Can bore you to sleep with physics gibberish."

A small, tired, laugh escaped John at that as he rolled back down onto his stomach, resting his phone on Gale's side of the bed. "'kay," He said, voice half muffled by his pillow. "I'm all ears."

Gale kept to his promise in regard to the psychics talk, and even when it was saying a whole lot of things that he'd still struggle to understand fully awake, his voice made John's chest warm. Made his shoulders feel like they could actually relax, the itch shedding off just enough for him to let sleep pull him under.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: talks of having kids

Bakugou lays sprawled out on your bed as you flitter around the room, moving from your closet to your dresser and back in a hurry of movements. You’re doing a bit of spring cleaning (yes, even in the winter), and Bakugou decided to come over and help, even though he’s just been laying around the whole time.

He had a rough patrol yesterday, even sports a few bruises on his ribs, so you let him take it easy, throwing him one of your old pink scarf hat combos with the little bunny ears on top. You don’t expect him to wear it, but the image of him laying against your bed with the floppy ears on top of his head makes you smile anyway.

You go back to your drawer, pulling everything out in order to throw some stuff away and reorganize the remaining things. At the bottom of the drawer though, do you find some old clothes when you were a baby. It’s been here for years now, after your parents gifted them to you, just in case you’d wanna use them for your future kids. It’s just collecting dust in the bottom of your drawer though, honestly, and you pull the tiny little purple and white checkered onesie out, examining it and the little bonnet underneath with a small frown.

“Who the hell is that for? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t fitting your big ass head.” You hear Bakugou call from your bed, your head whipping around to face him and his cheesy little grin. You narrow your eyes and poke your tongue out at him, throwing him the little combo as you turn to get the rest of the baby clothes out.

“Says the one whose head almost tore his mothers cooter in half during birth.” Thank you Mistuki for the information, you think to yourself, smiling an evil little smile that Bakugou frowns softly at.

“And it’s my old baby clothes. My folks gave it to me when I moved out, said I could use it for my own future gremlins.” You smile when you pick up the little yellow booties in your dresser, another little bonnet with a tie underneath the chin, and a pair of shorts that were entirely too cute and tiny. “Think I’m gonna throw it out, though.”

“Why would you do that?” Bakugou asks quietly, suddenly behind you, his chest against your back as he gently plucks the shorts from your hands to examine them closer. You look at him from over your shoulder, at the soft look that falls on his face, how his rough thumb rubs over the still soft material in his hands, how his eyebrows lose their crease and his mouth tilts up just so in the corners.

“We’re not having kids any time soon,” you say, your voice tacking on a silent ‘right?’ at the end of it. Bakugou doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he blinks down at you, looking so ridiculously cute in your pink hat, holding your baby clothes. You hand him the booties in his other hand and he takes them, so gentle, with such care, it makes your stomach do somersaults.

“Maybe we should talk more about that.” He whispers softly, looking at you from under his lashes, his garnet eyes searching your own. You nod though, stroking gently at the shorts he still holds with tender care, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you mutter, leaning up to press your mouth against his own. “Maybe we should.”

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 2: The Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: Heavy drug use, era-normalized!misogyny, everyone is a dick, Mention of French people, angst, fake relationships, partial interview style, no use of y/n

WC: 12K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎤

NANCY: Eddie was... not what we expected.

ROBIN: Eddie Munson looked like he’d been through some shit.

I’m not talking about the fact that he was covered in tattoos and never got a haircut. It was more that he just always looked sad and tired and kinda strung out.

NANCY: He looked a bit out of place with the rest of us.

ROBIN: He did not fit in one bit. I mean to be fair, we were a bit of a hodgepodge anyway but Eddie took the cake. 

He was pure metal, the kind of guy who should’ve been in like Iron Maiden, not a synth band! So, we were kinda confused as to why Starcourt thought it would be a good idea to bring him on board.

And then we heard him play.

NANCY: Eddie was the best guitar player we ever had and the best songwriter up until that point, too. Don’t tell Jonathan or Steve I said that, though.

ROBIN: Yeah, he was better than Steve and I would say that to Steve’s face. In fact, I did say that to Steve’s face when we first heard Eddie play.

He was not happy about that. Actually, he wasn’t happy at all when Eddie first joined.

NANCY: It didn’t take very long for us to figure out that he was only there to fulfill a contract. I mean, it wasn’t like he was the most enthusiastic to be there but he wasn’t rude or hard to work with, he just treated it like any other job. He would be polite, but not overly friendly, do his thing in the booth, and then go sit and read until we needed him again.

Steve’s ego was still a bit tender after what had happened between him and me. I think seeing Starcourt bringing in this amazingly talented guitar player did him in a little. He was always used to being the best at what he did and suddenly that was no longer true. On top of that, Eddie just didn’t care and that made it worse in Steve’s eyes. They would butt heads all the time while we were recording our self-titled album. Things were a bit tense at the beginning, but we sounded better with Eddie there, much to Steve’s chagrin.

ROBIN: If you ask me, they hated how similar they were and that’s why they didn’t get along or maybe Steve was jealous of how little Eddie had to try to be good. Either way, those few first months after Eddie joined were almost as intense as the weeks following Jancygate. Don’t get me wrong, we always sounded great but there was no cohesion. We were trying to record our first full-length album but nothing ever came out sounding right, it was driving everyone crazy.

NANCY: When you’re first starting out in the industry, you don’t really have much of a say. You do what you’re told, you go to the meetings you're scheduled, and you add whatever member they throw at you. So, when Starcourt set up a lunch meeting with one of their producers about adding someone else to the band, we had no choice but to go.

May 26, 1983: The Bull and Bush

“Tell me again who this meeting is with?” You ask Murray from across the suspiciously long table.

When he had called you earlier in the week to set up lunch, he had been uncharacteristically cryptic about who the lunch was with and only told you it was with, “A few folks over at Starcourt,” he parroted again between bites of a bread roll. You stare him down silently over the rim of your martini glass and he gives, a little.

“I think I found you a way out of all these duets and possibly a chance to write music.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yes, that all seemed great but with Starcourt things were rarely what they seemed.

“By the looks of this table for 10, I’m starting to think that maybe you’re trying to recruit me to the company softball team, Murray.”

“Not today, sweetheart, but don’t worry, the Comets will get you eventually.”

Your second drink is interrupted by a tall, imposing man approaching the table. He has thick eyebrows that naturally knit together and a thicker mustache that rests straight along his mouth. You vaguely recognized him as an exec from the record label but his casual flowered button-down and white linen trousers make you doubt your memory.

“This is Hopper. Jim Hopper,” Murray says to you in a sweeping introduction, “he manages some bands at Starcourt.”

You can feel your face twist in confusion before you quickly temper your features and rise to introduce yourself.

Hopper takes your small hand in his comically large one and shakes it hard before sitting down next to Murray.

You watch as your new lunch companion flags down a server to order a double scotch, your mind buzzing to put the pieces together. What the hell was going on?

Hopper and Murray turn to you in tandem, reminding you of parents on sitcom TV.

Murray starts keeping his voice low, “The label thinks that you make the most money when you’re singing with others and causing some buzz. Since you made it very clear that duets are no longer an option for you, we came up with another solution.”

“I manage a band,” Hopper says then, “they’re talented but they’re newer and still trying to figure out their image and sound. We think you would be a good addition.”

This last part comes slowly, as your lunch companions try to gauge your reaction. “You want me to join a band?” You repeat, stunned. “Why?”

“As I said, they need help establishing a brand, a reputation, and that’s something that you have plenty of—“ Murray snorts “— plus, they need a solid songwriter and Murray tells me that’s you.”

Your eyes volley between the two men in front of you, trying to figure out what the catch is. There’s always a catch.

It’s like they can sense what you’re thinking because they lock eyes, and Murray sighs, “And it just so happens that they have a very handsome male lead singer and maybe part of the deal would include a bit of a front-facing, romantic narrative that would entice the public to buy your albums and go to your shows.”

“You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with some guy in a band so people buy our music? That’s your great plan?

“I’ve proved myself, Murray. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I sang your stupid duets and recorded that vapid EP. Are you just going to string me along forever, asking me to do stupider and stupider stunts?”

You stand and swing your arm back to grab the purse hanging from your chair. The two men mirror your movement and suddenly it feels like you’re in a stand-off.

“It’s not stupid,” Hopper says, matter-of-factly, “and we do believe in your talent, but it’s not just about talent anymore, it’s about image and it’s about what sells. Scandal sells. Look, you’re a talented kid, everyone knows that. But, talent isn’t what sells anymore. People want something to gossip about and you’ve already given them that.

“This is not some hair-brain scheme Murray and I cooked up in the fucking restroom between lines. This is years of marketing research and scouting to get the perfect combination of talent. You should consider yourself lucky that Starcourt— that Brenner, personally— picked you out of thousands to execute his little pet experiment.

“They’re going to talk about you anyway, why not have a little control over what they say? It beats them calling you a slut, doesn’t it?” 

You glare at Hopper as he’s towering over you.

“Listen kiddo,” purrs Murray, sliding into a different approach, “we’re not asking you to marry the guy. Just, have lunch with them and maybe we get you featured on their first LP, do them a favor like The Letterman’s did for you when you were just getting started, huh?

“Plus, the guy’s handsome, like total frontman full-package, so, who knows, maybe he’s your type and you won’t have to pretend!”

Murray guffaws at this like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

“Fine,” you say, your mouth pitching down in a scowl, before haughtily dropping back into your chair. They follow suit.

“One lunch, but you—“ your finger waves at Murray “—are gonna get me on the list for a cottage at the Mormont and you—“ you pivot to point at Hopper “—are getting me a French 75.”

“Please,” you add after a beat.

The two men exchange a look and Hopper rolls his eyes and stands.

“Was gonna get me another scotch anyway,” he grumbles before ambling over to the bar.

While Hopper is at the bar, Murray fills you in with as many details as possible: the band’s name (“The Downsides”), the lead singer’s name (“Steve Something”), and the rest of the band members’ names (“Johnny, Natalie, Robin, Ed... maybe?...and Argyle, no wait, that’s not a name”).

As if on cue, just as Hopper approaches the table from one side, a motley bunch of individuals, that you know have to be The Downsides, file into the restaurant. Hopper waves at them and they walk over, in a single line, all following their big-haired leader.

“These misfit toys are the band?” you snark to no one in particular and Murray shoots you a warning glare before waving at them with feigned enthusiasm.

Hopper reaches the table before they do and hands you your drink while announcing your name to the band. 

You smile in a practiced, charming way.

“Hi, you must be Steve,” you say rising to greet the tall, slender man with a mane of wild hair. Admittedly, he is much more hard-edged than you had imagined, decked out in leather and hardware with thick, silver rings adorning his fingers. Maybe this is what Hopper meant when he said the band needed help with their image--this guy was far too metal to ever break it into the mainstream.

He burst into laughs and then bumps his fist into the shoulder of the guy standing next to him, another long-haired man whose eyes were rimmed red.  

“Did you hear that, she thought I was Harrington! Buckley, come here, she thought I was Harrington!”

Your face flushes in embarrassment and you wince. So, that was not Steve.

“Hi, I’m Nancy Wheeler,” a voice says softly at your side. You turn and find yourself facing a pretty, doe-eyed girl probably around your age. The gentleness in her voice lets you know that she had witnessed your embarrassment at the hands of Not!Steve and she was trying to smooth things over, and make a good impression.

After Nancy, you shake hands with the bouncy, sometimes-bass-sometimes-brass-sometimes-synth player Robin Buckley and the shy-bordering-on-morose guitarist Jonathan Byers. The spaced-out drummer with the long locks is Argyle and Not!Steve’s name is actually Eddie Munson, which you learn only from Robin and Nancy as he doesn't bother to introduce himself. He looks vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone at Starcourt does. 

He catches you staring at him and shoots you a mocking wink. You want to scowl back, maybe even flip him off but you are too aware of how that moment, snapped by a paparazzi and sold to a gossip rag, could impact your already- precarious public image. So, instead, you raise a glass in response.

“Where the hell is Harrington?” Hopper barks at the group once they had settled. “He needed to park the car,” explains Jonathan.

“Park? Why would he need to do that?” You ask, “this place has a valet.”

An awkward silence blanketed the group as they all looked at you and then exchanged amongst themselves. You were under the impression you had just said something wrong and you weren’t sure what. 

Before you have the chance to smooth things over, the group is interrupted.

“Sorry, I’m late everyone, parking here is terrible.”

Oh, so that’s what Murray meant by ‘full frontman package’.

Steve Harrington was tall and leanly muscular with a face as sharp and bright as a jewel and hair graceful and tousled.

His eyes land on yours and your shoulders straighten with a jolt.

“Hi,” he breathes, “I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington.” 

“Hi,” you all but sigh back, an unfamiliar warmth moving up your cheeks. 

***

ROBIN: Steve “Loverboy” Harrington. He used to fall in love like three times a week back in the day. Everyone at the table could tell he was immediately smitten with her though. I mean who could blame him? She was like distractingly gorgeous. I’m pretty sure I spilled soup in my lap from staring at her. More than once. Steve spent most of the lunch making eyes at her and the crazy part was, I think she was into him! Honestly, I thought he was getting ready to propose. Until Hopper told us all why he’d really brought us there. 

***

“What? No way, Hops, we’re not adding another person to the band. Plus, we already have a lead singer—me.” Steve’s whole demeanor changed once Hopper started talking shop—he had gone from smiling flirtatiously at you from across the table to huffing like a petulant child. 

“It’s just a feature on one song, kid. If it goes well then we’ll revisit and if it doesn’t well, we better hope the rest of the album is pure gold because Brenner really wants this to go well,” Hopper tries to assuage. 

“This is never gonna work,” Steve spits out, “she doesn’t match our sound at all. Or our vibe—we have, like, substance.” 

The table goes standstill quiet upon hearing this. The only noise you hear is what you think is Robin kicking Steve under the table. 

 Steve turns to you after a beat and says, “No offense,” with a dismissive shrug. 

***

NANCY: Steve has always had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth at the worst times. He didn’t mean to come off as an ass, I don’t think, it was probably his way of lashing out against all the change that was happening without our input. First Eddie, now this, he probably felt so out of control he—I think we all did. He still shouldn’t have said it though. 

ROBIN: Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

***

All eyes land on you, awaiting the imminent explosion. 

It never comes. 

Instead, you school your features into a neutrally pleasant expression—you never know where there’ll be a camera after all—and respond sweetly, “None taken. You’re right to not want me on your track. After all, I've only had like, 6 Top 10 Singles in the last year which is nothing compared to your…wait how many have you had, again?” 

Steve’s face falls as Murray chortles from the other end of the table. 

***

NANCY: It wasn’t the nicest way to put it but it wasn’t like she had been unprovoked. Steve needed a reality check. 

ROBIN: I mean, she had a point. She was doing us a favor by recording the track with us. Dingus just needed to get over himself. 

The rest of the lunch was super awkward, in case you were wondering. She was still nice to the rest of us, but she barely acknowledged Steve, or Eddie for the matter. 

If you would’ve told me then what would eventually become of those three—ha!—I would’ve said you were insane. 

STEVE: Yeah, I know I had fucked up. Like, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I don’t know why I did it, I think I felt threatened or something. Listen, I think about what happened all the time and there isn’t one singular moment that we can pinpoint where everything went south, really, we all made mistakes, a lot of them. But sometimes, I can’t help thinking to myself that if I had just handled that day at the restaurant better, our whole lives would’ve been different. Or… who knows? Maybe not, maybe we were always meant to end as bad as we did.

***

June 7th, 1983–Los Angeles, California

A few days after your lunch with the Downsides, you see your own face peaking at you from the cover of a Subrosa magazine on a grocery store newsstand. 

You glance around before surreptitiously crouching down for a closer look.

It was a grainy picture of you and Steve, sitting across from one another at lunch, clearly in conversation. The picture had been taken from outside the restaurant and framed in such a way that it looked like it was only the two of you dining together. You can tell by the looks on your faces that it was before everything had blown up—the two of you looked like you were enjoying yourselves.

Sultry Songstress Sees Upside with the Downsides’ Flirty Frontman reads across the top of the page, and you gag. They sure do love their alliteration over at the Sub.

You briefly wonder to yourself what Steve and the others will think of this once they see it. Shrugging that thought off, you toss the magazine into your cart.

***

You actually find out pretty quickly what Steve and the others think about the cover later that evening when you receive a call from an unknown number.

“Hi, it’s Robin,” you hear from the other line as soon as you pick up.

“Hi Ro—”

“Robin Buckley, from the Downsides? I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at lunch the other day when my friend made a huge ass of himself and— ow, Steve that hurt, God.”

Sounds of some sort of physical struggle echo through the telephone line until you decide to interrupt.

“Hi Robin, of course I remember you and your ass of a friend, what can I do for the two of you? Also, how did you get my number?”

You’re more curious than bothered when you ask the latter question.

“Four.”

“Pardon?”

“Four. There are four of us. See, you asked what you could do for the two of us but it’s not just me and Steve. Nancy and Argyle are here too—” At this point, you hear a faint ‘hello’ and ‘what’s up’ from the background—"For the sake of full disclosure I felt that I should mention that. Jonathan is visiting his family in Lenora Hills, otherwise, I’m sure he’d be here too. Oh, and to answer your question I got your number from Murray.”

“Uh-huh.” 

You glance at your wristwatch; there’s a party in the Hills that you were planning on going to and you were going to have to leave soon if you didn’t want to be stuck in traffic all night.

As if she had read your mind, you hear some shuffling on the line before Nancy decidedly takes over the conversation with a much more serious tone.

“Hi, sorry to bother you this late but we wanted to ask if perhaps you had seen the latest issue of Subrosa? It seems like you and Steve are on the cover.”

Exhaling a laugh, you answer, “Yes, actually, saw it at the grocery store today, sorry you guys didn’t make the front page, I’m sure you’ll get them next time.”

“What? No, I mean, have you read the article? They’re printing lies about you both,” Nancy stutters out, indignantly.

“They’re saying that you and Steve had a private lunch and that he’s been seen sneaking out of the Hotel Mormont for weeks and that you might be pregnant? They’re even alluding to a fight breaking out between him and Jason Carver of all people.”

 This causes you to fully chortle.

“I wish, that guy deserves a few punches to the face. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though, everything they say about me is a lie.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t they supposed to have some journalistic integrity? Don’t they get in trouble for printing lies like this? Have you tried to contact their editors about this?”

The confusion you feel about this conversation is outweighed by how weirdly touched you feel that these girls who had only met you once seem so offended on your behalf.

“No, I mean, it’s a gossip rag, not like The New York Times or anything,” you placate, “and after all the terrible things they’ve said about in the past, I’m kinda just glad they got a half-decent picture of me.  I appreciate you all calling about it though.”

And then, after a beat, you address the band’s lead singer, who has been oddly quiet throughout the whole exchange.

“I hope being pictured with me didn’t sully your reputation, Flirty Frontman.”

Really, you didn’t care if Steve was bothered by the whole thing, you just hoped that he wasn’t making his bandmates call you on his behalf. You didn’t know what to make of the guy quite yet. On one hand, he was completely sweet to you most of the lunch, he spent the meal asking you questions about yourself and refilling your drink without you having to ask. But the tantrum he had thrown reminded you a little too much of the dangerously self-absorbed musicians that had grown sick of these last few years.

“Me? No, I’m fine. Did you see how great my hair looked?”

You laugh silently at his answer. His hair did look great in the photo, but you were not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear that from you.

He continues, “Plus, they never really said anything terrible about me. They’re like, totally after you which is why Nance and Rob have been so worried, I guess. Are you good?”

His question comes out more hushed than everything else he’s said, and you are once again reminded of the earnest smiles you exchanged across the table a few days ago.

“I’m fine, Harrington, this is a regular Tuesday for me.”

With that, you bid goodbye to the band, citing your lateness, but not before expressing a very sincere thanks for their naïve concern.

The unexpected phone call makes you hit traffic, as you had predicted. You spend nearly an hour and a half in the back of a cab, the whole time, you can’t stop replaying the conversation you just had in your head.

Maybe there was more to the Downsides than met the eye?

***

This theory is proven, in part, after Hopper sends you a demo recording of some of their songs the following week.  

The Downsides, you quickly find out, are good, like very good. Their music is like nothing you’d ever heard before: experimental and fun but polished and very technically sound. Steve’s vocals are annoyingly impressive—his growly timbre grounding the lighter sound and keeping it from sounding too saccharine. You can see them dominating the charts and blowing The Letterman’s and every other one-trick band out of the water.

The track they wanted you to jump on was part of the demos Hopper had sent out. It was called “Feel It”, a romantic song, tinged with melancholy but paired with an upbeat synth sound.

You had been sent a copy of the lyrics that included a cue for you to come in.

You practiced your part for days, agonizing over how you wanted to deliver the lyrics, and eventually, you came up with exactly what you wanted to do after making some minor adjustments.

You were actually excited to record the song until you remembered that you would have to come face-to-face with the band’s two asshole guitarists again.

On the day of the recording, you tried your best to be early, but you had been up tossing all night which caused you to oversleep then you lost your keys, and you were moving at the time, so your things were all over the place. You also had to turn around and come back when you realized you had forgotten the gift basket of cookies you were planning on bringing for the band—something left over from a package Charles Riva's team sent you as an apology for him blowing you off. All in all, you were about thirty minutes late.

You pulled into the Starcourt parking lot a harried mess and as you rounded the corner into the studio, you could hear the booming voice of Eddie Munson.

“She’s probably stuck circling the parking lot trying to find some working-class sucker to park her car. Harrington, why don’t you go check out there? Maybe you’ll get papped again and get another 5 minutes of fame.”

You hear Steve respond and while you can’t make out the words, you can tell he’s annoyed, embarrassed, or possibly both.

You can see the faces of every other band member fall like dominos as they each caught sight of you rounding the corner to stand directly behind Eddie.

Eddie though doesn’t seem to pick up on what’s clearly written on all their faces and persists through his tirade, “She’s only coming for the photo opp anyway—she doesn’t care about any of this.”

It’s Argyle who finds his voice first, “Eddie, man, isn’t that her?”

Eddie whips around and with comically wide eyes, looks down at you, grimacing.

You consider telling the guy off but decide against it.

If there is one thing you have learned these years it’s that while the male artists can throw fits, yell, scream, and even damage equipment without anyone as much as blinking an eye, one emotional misstep from you and you would be branded a diva. They would say you were difficult, rude, and find any excuse to toss you aside like they had so many women before you and you refused to let them have that satisfaction.

So, instead, you smile at the band, eyes lingering on Eddie for just a moment longer than on anybody else, to let him know that you had heard him, and then say brightly, “Sorry I’m late everybody. I brought some cookies.”

***

EDDIE: Yeah, it was a dick thing to say, and I regretted it immediately and not just because she brought us cookies.

I wasn’t—that wasn’t me.

I was just so angry about everything that I had lost, and I didn’t know where to put it all and then she shows up: this rich, spoiled girl who just seemed to float through life without a single fucking care or struggle, and suddenly I had an easy target.

I felt bad about it until she changed my fucking lyrics.

***

Unlike their guitarists, most of the band seemed pleased to see you and you spent a few minutes greeting everyone and handing around cookies while Eddie and Steve kept their respective distances—Eddie, sulking in a corner and Steve doing a poor job at pretending to tune his guitar.

“Okay kids let’s give the voices some space to do their thing,” Hopper says waving them through the door sounding more like a disgruntled parent than a manager.

In the end, it’s just you, Steve, Murray, and the sound booth tech. The latter two are busy prepping the sound and mic, leaving you and Steve standing in the back.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize about what I said the other day at lunch,” he leans in close to your ear, his eyes transfixed on his shoes.

“I didn’t mean it—not really. I guess I was just lashing out because, well, they keep changing things about the band without even talking to us. First, they made us go pop, then they made me give up lead guitar to Eddie because his previous band didn’t want him anymore, and then it seemed like they wanted to replace me with you and like, it’s not that I wouldn’t want you it’s just that—well they never even asked what we wanted, you know? I was frustrated about that, and I took it out on you and I’m sorry about that.”

You watch him as he digs the toe of his sneaker into the carpet, eyes downcast, clearly waiting for you to respond. You’re too busy contemplating his words, however, because an apology was the last thing you were expecting from him, much less such a sincere one.

Out of all the difficult men you had dealt with in your life—producers, musicians, lawyers, managers, former flings, hell, even your own father—you had never received an apology from any of them regardless of how poorly they’d treated you.

Steve’s eyes finally trail up to meet yours, searching your face for signs that he didn’t say the wrong thing yet again.

Seeing no trace of dishonesty on Steve’s face, you decide to trust the apology for what it is and nod in acceptance.

“I get it,” you say, and truly, you did, “I’ve had most of my career decisions made for me, and a lot of times, they weren’t really what I wanted. It makes the whole thing feel kind of…empty, doesn’t it?”

His face floods with relief as he nods along in understanding.

“Yeah, like does success matter if we can’t do things our way? Me and Rob, we’ve been best friends since we were little and this has always been our dream and now that it may be coming true, it doesn’t feel like we imagined. I guess that’s kinda stupid though, expecting things to be like you imagined them as a kid,” he laughs at himself nervously.

“No, it’s not,” you counter, “that’s not stupid at all.”

You understand Steve’s disillusionment completely because it mirrors your own.

“Listen, I get how you feel, trust me, but you got to keep going. You guys are good, and I think you could all be big one day and then it’ll be you who’s calling the shots and then you can kick me and Eddie to the curb,” you clearly say the last part in jest but that doesn’t stop the shame that rolls across Steve’s face.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re really talented and we’re lucky that you’re doing us this favor. We’d be even luckier if we could get you to stick around. Munson I could give or take, though.”

His joke makes you laugh so loud that Murray turns around and glares.

***

Steve was sent into the booth first to record his final vocals for the song, leaving you to observe.

As they set Steve up, your eyes kept bouncing over to the newly appeared Eddie, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing there.

“I wrote the song,” Eddie explains, after catching your eye.

“Oh,” you say, not bothering enough to hide your surprise, “well, congratulations, it’s a good song.”

You catch him eyeing the plate of cookies at your side. You open your mouth to offer him a cookie, but the echo of his words rings fresh in your mind, so instead, you reach for one and make a big show of savoring it.

Steve records his part of the vocals in five takes. He appears a bit nervous at first but eases into his groove rather quickly.

As the audio engineer is setting up the booth for you, you feel your own nerves rise. You wanted this to go well. You wanted to impress Steve and Hopper and even Eddie.

They signal you into the booth and the first two times, you record the song exactly how it’s written. Then, on the third one, you switch up the final chorus.

The original lyrics were: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your hope bare next to mine/ and even if the world caves in, we’ll be fine

You changed the lyrics to: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your flaws bare next to mine/ because when the world caves in, I’ll leave you cryin’

The change was slight, you thought, but meaningful.

The original version—Eddie’s version—was too hopeful. It was a boring portrayal of lovers staying with each other through thick and thin.

Your change added some conflict and dimension to the narrative. You made it better.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie pushed past Murray to yell into the mic that fed into the booth.

You roll your eyes at him dramatically interrupting your take, “I was just trying something out.”

Hopper pulled Eddie back by the shoulder while Murray wrestled the mic from him.

“Woah, sweetheart, pump the breaks. That was good. Better than the original. Can we run that one more time but with your lyrics instead? Harrington, we’ll re-record some of your parts too.”

Hopper has to all but carry Eddie out the door after he hears that.

***

EDDIE: The thing that pissed me off the most was that her version of the song was better. I just didn’t want to admit it because I wrote that song about Chrissy, about how even though I was so scared I was going to fuck up our relationship, she understood that and was willing to work through that with me. Her version was much closer to what actually happened and that hit a little too close to home.

***

“Woah, what did you two do to Eddie?” Robin demands as soon as you and Steve are dismissed into the hallway. “Hopper pretty much had to drag him out in tears!”

You worry at your bottom lip, caught in the wondering eyes of the group. At the time, you felt like you were doing the right thing, but now you wonder if you had forgone the common courtesy of at least letting him know you had changed the song. You didn’t want to come across as unprofessional as he accused you of being.

“I should probably go talk to him,” you say in response.

“Geez, Robin. Was the third degree really necessary there? This is just like last week’s DMV visit all over again,” Steve chastises as they all watch you walk away.

***

You find Eddie in the smoking area, cigarette in hand. “Hey, listen can we talk—"

Eddie turns dangerously to face you, cutting you off.

“You know what your fucking problem is? No one’s ever said no to you so you think you can do whatever the hell you want and that everyone else just rolls over and gives it to you because you’re so pretty and charming and rich.

“Well, you may have the rest of those assholes fooled but I see right through you, okay?”

Your eyes narrowed in response before you snap back.

"First of all, you don't know anything about me, so stop pretending that you do. I have worked hard to be here, just like the rest of you, and as far as this song goes, my name is going to be attached to it too, so I have just as much of a right to give input as you or Steve. It was wrong that I didn't say anything to you beforehand, sure, and I apologize for that, but let's not pretend that you've been the epitome of professionalism here either because you've been an ass to me since we've met, and I don't know why but I won't stand for it again. Fuck you, Eddie Munson,” you spit out before turning on your heel and stomping away.

***

EDDIE: That was hot, not gonna lie.

***

“Are you really going to let some mangy metalhead from Bumfuck, Nowhere keep you from finally doing what you want?” Murray asks exasperatedly when you call him to complain about the exchange later that night.

“Listen, I’ve recorded a lot of songs in that studio, some of them great, most of them mediocre, but today blew all of them out of the water. The band’s never sounded better and neither have you, frankly. If you gave up the chance to finally write your own songs and sound this good while doing it, that would be flat-out idiotic. You know that, right?”

The line goes still.

“Yes,” you finally say.

“Great, now that that’s settled, why don’t you get some rest, huh? Ruining Muson’s day must have tired you right out.”

You exhale a laugh before saying goodbye.

Although you would never say it to his face, you were grateful for Murray. It was nice having someone looking out for you.

***

MURRAY:  Brenner loved the track. After that, we had a very short time to make a lot of big things happen. The Downside’s debut album was already 70% recorded, but now that we had a whole other person on vocals, we had to scrap a good portion of the work they had already done and rerecord with our new vocalist. We couldn’t even celebrate our victory because we were just getting started.

Those poor kids had no clue what was coming.

***

When your phone rings a few mornings later, you suspect it’s Murray again with an update on the song, and while you’re right about the message, you’re wrong about the messenger. 

“Hi, it’s Steve, uh, Harrington. Obviously,” you hear a familiar voice crackle over the line.

“Oh? And to what do I owe the honor Mr. Obviously?” you respond.

“Oh, very funny. Listen, I wanted to call and let you know that we just heard from Hopper that Brenner and his guys liked our song, and they want us to continue, you know… recording together and stuff. So, yeah, would that be something you’re interested in… being a part of, you know, the band?” his voice wavers a bit as he asks.

“Is that even a choice?” you fire back, “I was under the impression that once Brenner gave the go-ahead, it was pretty much a done deal.”

He clears his throat in response, “I think you deserve to have a choice. I talked to the rest of the band, and they agree and if you don’t want in, we’ll back you… even if that means breaking our Starcourt contract.”

The line goes silent as you contemplate the gravity of what Steve has just said. The Downsides would be willing to put their own career at risk just to assure you the luxury of choice.

The answer was easy after that.

“I’m in,” you say after a few moments of terse silence. “I want to be a part of the band.”

You can all but see Steve pumping his fist on the other side of the line.

“That’s great! That’s great news. I’m glad my asshole tendencies didn’t put you off,” he laughs, relieved.

“I mean, it was a tough sell,” you tease back, “but I think we can be good together. The band, I mean.”

You wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing when his joyous peals of laughter stop suddenly at your words.

“Actually, um, about that,” he begins, once again nervously, “I’m really grateful that you’re giving us—the band—a chance and that you were nice enough to record the single with us in the first place. And, I mean, I know I’m already pushing my luck with the universe and you but maybe—uh, maybe today it’s my turn to be the luckiest guy in the world? Who knows?”

You have absolutely no clue what he’s getting at, and you let him know as much.

“Right, hm, I was wondering if I could take you out, on a date, to celebrate us becoming a band but also like, you know, a date. I know I made a total ass of myself, but I really like you, and I think you're gorgeous and talented and smart. I know I may not deserve another shot, but I would love it if you gave me one.”

You’re at a loss for words. First, you’re not even sure if you want to trust Steve fully, not quite yet. Sure, he apologized, but a part of you wonders if he only did it to get on your good side once he had seen how your pre-established infamy could serve him after that Subrosa article ran. Murray mentioned how radio runtime for the few EP songs The Downsides had in the rotation tripled since the publication. It definitely wouldn’t have been the first time you were being used like this.

Even if you could find it in yourself to look past that (and who knows, maybe you could?) there was still the matter of what Murray and Hopper had so delicately mentioned that day at lunch.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I don’t think that would be very professional. Especially on account of our…  front-facing, romantic narrative.”

“Our what?”

***

MURRAY: I thought that Hopper had gotten his team on the same page about the more personal aspects of the band’s arrangement, but apparently, I was wrong. None of them had any clue what was going on and the thing about running a ruse is that people that are in on it kind of have to know that they’re in on it.

A few days before we began re-recording, the girl called me all in a tizzy because she accidentally spilled the beans, not knowing that Harrington had no clue at all about the plan.

I then call Hopper; it turns into this whole thing. We had to arrange an emergency meeting with the two of them and the entire legal team.

A bit slow on the uptake, that Harrington kid, but he got there. Eventually.

He was harder to convince than the girl, though. At least she didn’t have a problem with lying to the public. But Harrington was all about that Midwestern “integrity” and “letting the music speak for itself”. Hop eventually had to spell it out real simple for him: either they do this, or the entire band was cooked.

STEVE: I guess after like 15 years the ruse is finally up, huh? Yeah, the relationship was fake. Or, at least, it started out that way. Listen, it was complicated and we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

But, if you’re asking about what I was thinking when they finally told me their plan, well, I wasn’t happy or on board at all. It felt like we had already given up so much of ourselves for this—like, where do you draw the line, you know?

But then Hopper reminded me that it wasn’t all about me: Nancy had dropped out of college to be in the band, Jonathan…he had his sick little brother to take care of, and even Munson was going to be in trouble if he didn’t fulfill his contract with Starcourt.

It was selfish to say no, in my opinion. And really, what was I losing? I got to make music for a living and parade around, pretending to date a total hottie while doing it. I mean, the only way it could’ve gotten better was if the relationship had been real.

***

After what feels like days—but is most likely hours—with the Starcourt legal team, you and Steve are finally released with a very long grocery list of instructions that include a minimum number of required public appearances; a very specific list of acceptable PDA; and interestingly, enough, a sample NDA in case either of you wanted to “be involved” with anyone on the side.

“Nothing says romance like NDA, right?” you weakly joke in an attempt to break the ice.

“How are you so okay with this?” Steve shoots back, seemingly stunned.

“Well, it’s not like this is my first rodeo, or my fourth, or my sixth.”

And before he can question further, you tell him everything, starting with Jason fucking Carver.

***

STEVE: I couldn’t believe it. They had been forcing her to pretend to be involved with all these guys for years. It was super fucked up, but she stuck with it. That’s how much she wanted it. How could I possibly let her down after that? Especially with my own selfish, dumb feelings? She was right, we needed to keep it professional, no matter how hard that was going to be for me.

***

JONATHAN:  Jonathan Byers, bassist and guitarist for the Downsides. never wanted to be famous, I just wanted to play music and make enough money to support my family. I could do all of that and more with The Downsides.

I felt like the luckiest guy in the world then. We were finally starting to see some stability as a band and even though things weren’t exactly as we expected, things were good. I mean we were making music we loved with people we liked—back when we all still liked each other.

***

October 1983—Los Angeles, California

As the studio had predicted, the band’s single was a total hit, as were you and Steve in the press. The gamble Starcourt was starting to pay off.

Everyone was more relieved than happy about that news.

What followed was a few grueling weeks of rerecording the band’s nearly completed album while also strategically traipsing arm-in-arm with Steve around every romantic spot in Hollywood trying to bait the paparazzi.

Things had finally slowed down a bit since the album was in post-production, but Starcourt still had you on a tight schedule. You had transitioned into rehearsing for the band’s upcoming tour. That’s how certain Startcourt was that the Downsides were going to be a success—you were rehearsing for a tour that hadn’t even been announced yet for an album that hadn’t even been released.

You try not to think about what it would mean if the band didn’t meet the label’s expectations. Instead, you focus on figuring out how to adapt to the band you’re now a part of.

The obvious lack of familiarity between all of you was not as pronounced when you were re-recording in the studio, now that you’re all rehearsing together, it is impossible to ignore. The original members of the band share a bond that keeps them incredibly in sync, oftentimes leaving you and Eddie struggling both on and off the stage. You’ve been working to adapt though, and you’ve made progress, sometimes you’re even close to feeling like the band has accepted you as one of their own. But then something will happen that will leave you feeling like an outsider once more.

***

The last thing a hungover you needs to see at seven in the morning is a Subrosa article questioning your moral character and calling you a man-eater. The universe—in the form of one Nancy Wheeler—has a different idea.

“Have you seen this?” the keyboardist asks, indignation coloring her tone, as she slings the offending publication across your lap.

You hadn’t seen it, in fact, but one look at the grainy picture of you and Steve and you can assume what the article says.

You sigh tiredly in response, “Honestly Nancy, you shouldn’t pay attention to this shit. I don’t know why you let it bother you so much.”

“It’s just so unfair that they’re singing Steve’s praises and are still dragging you through the mud, even though you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Exactly, there’s no winning with them, not for me. So why don’t we just say fuck them and do whatever we want?” You find it in yourself to waggle your eyebrows playfully at her earning a giggle from the otherwise serious girl.

You catch Eddie watching your exchange from across the large warehouse that is serving as the band’s rehearsal space with a curious amount of interest.

The two of you have barely spoken since your row outside of Starcourt. It’s not like you’re missing out on much though, since Eddie barely interacts with the band beyond rehearsal which makes his apparent engagement with your conversation unusual. Eddie, realizing he’s been caught staring, opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted by a very late Steve and Robin.

“Hey, have you seen the latest issue of Subrosa?” Steve asks, harried and out of breath.

You try not to think about the fact that this is the third time this week that the two of them have shown up together and late.

“Yes, we were just talking about it, which you would’ve known if the two of you were on time for once,” Nancy jabs back with no real heat, just the annoyance of an older sister chastising her siblings.

“Hey, don’t blame me, Robin wanted to—” he stops short as soon as his eyes land on you and coughs awkwardly.

“I wanted to stop by the post office,” Robin rushes to say. “It’s Bastille Day and I needed to send a card to my French pen pal, Celine in honor of the occasion.”

“Isn’t Bastille Day in July?” You ask Robin.

She flushes scarlet. “Right, exactly, that’s why this is so important, my card was already like three months late. You know how French people are about punctuality.”

She then exchanges a meaningful glance with Steve and Nancy who seem to be having their own sort of conversation consisting solely of glances and eyebrow movement.

“Fine, whatever,” Nancy exhales after a few terse moments of silent communication, “let’s just start please.”

She stands and the others follow suit. You, however, remain sat, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

Steve, sensing you hadn’t moved, turns to throw you an apologetic look over his shoulder before beaconing gently with a nod of his head. You sigh but join him, nonetheless.

This happens a lot.

***

JONATHAN: When the whole staged relationship thing first started, I don’t think any of us had any idea what that meant.  I mean, sure, it started out as the gimmick that got us through the door but it soon became something bigger than that. Their relationship was synonymous with the band and it's success and I'm sure that resulted in a lot of pressure. 

I think for the two of them, though, the most difficult part was trying to keep things professional, especially when other people began to get involved.

***

None of the personal dynamics mattered when you were all playing together.

What you loved most about your bandmates was that they cared about the music just as much as you did. That had become clear from the very first rehearsal and even now, nearly a month in, you’re still in awe watching them all perform alongside you.

 Prim, soft-spoken Nancy turned into a wild thing on the keyboard, her whole body moving with the music, fingers flying over the keys like it was nothing. Ever the perfectionist, she would never miss a note, and on the off chance that she did, curse words you had never heard before streamed out of her mouth, causing your eyes to go wide every time.

Jonathan, too, became something else: full of bravado and fire, hair swinging wildly and even jumping around on stage. His playing had a smoothness to it, he knew when to show restraint and let someone else shine and when to bring it himself.

Argyle and Robin were the biggest transformations, though. Gone was goofy and easy-going Argyle the person and all that was left behind was the laser-focused drummer, who seemed to move on instinct to create a strong musical foundation for the rest of you. Robin, who normally was a bit erratic and all over the place, became the self-assured, quick-thinking driving force behind the band. It was like she knew exactly how the song needed to sound and what each person needed to bring to get there. She was the first to let anyone know there was something amiss and no one took it the wrong way because she was rarely wrong.

Steve and Eddie were exactly what you had expected, however, what you did not expect was how alike they would be. They both moved gracefully and with careless precision. Showmen in equal measures.

Once you had familiarized yourself with your bandmates, figuring out how you fit into the band’s onstage dynamic was easy.

Off-stage was a whole different story.

***

JONATHAN: I mean, yeah, I think it was natural that there was a bit of a divide in those early days between the ‘original’ band and our two new members. It’s not for lack of trying though, it’s just, well the five of us lived in a house together and had known each other for years, it was probably kinda intimidating trying to jump into that dynamic. I also got the feeling that the other two weren’t really used to having friends. They both seemed to have their guards up in their own way.

With her you could tell she was holding back, almost like she was afraid of doing the wrong thing and well, with Eddie… you know how he is.

I think it was that feeling of sort of being on the outside that first drew them together, honestly.

***

Your eyes scan over the small craft services area that makes up part of your rehearsal space. Most of the band starts at one table, chatting amiably over lunch. Before you can even take a step in their direction, though, your eyes zero in on Steve and Robin, whose heads are bent, close together, whispering to one another intimately and you falter.

As much as you enjoyed Robin and Steve individually, watching them interact with one another often stoked an aching loneliness in you that you struggled to put out and the more time you spent with them only made it worse. After six weeks, you were worn thin.

Deciding that you’d rather not foster any unearned feelings, you turn to the only other table where Eddie is sitting alone bent over a thick paperback.

Trying to play it as cool as you can, you reach inside your bag to pull out your own book, and casually sit down across from the long-haired boy.

He stares you down. You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Didn’t know you could read,” he says casually.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you,” you shoot back with no real bite.

He chuckles to himself, seemingly impressed before gesturing to your book. 

“Didn’t peg you for a Baldwin type either,” Eddie says, eyes scanning the cover of your book.

You shrug, noncommittally, “I found a copy Beal Street sitting with a bunch of junk on my neighbor’s curb and I’ve been a fan since.”

He barks out a laugh so loud it catches everyone’s attention.

Conversation halts and you feel your bandmates’ curious gazes fall on you all at once.

“Forgive me, princess, but I have a hard time imagining you digging through other people's trash for books from what I know of you.”

“And what do you know about me, Eddie? I mean, other than the stuff Subrosa prints.”

His face falls in response.

The two of you spend the rest of your lunch in silence, pretending not to notice the way everyone else is staring.

***

JONATHAN: They ate lunch together every day after that, barely talking, reading their books.  I don’t think they were friends or anything, but I did see them exchange books a few times.

It did stress Nancy out, I think, the divide. It made her think we weren’t doing enough to be “welcoming” to them. Argyle and I didn’t really care, and Robin was dealing with her on shit at the time.

***

ROBIN : Yeah, I was seeing this girl, and I was trying to keep it under wraps from well… everyone actually. Steve was a really great friend though; he would always give me rides to and from her place when I needed them.

***

JONATHAN: ...a nd Steve liked to pretend that he didn’t care but he definitely did.

ROBIN: Of course, Steve cared, are you kidding?

NANCY: We could tell it bothered him.

STEVE : Did I care that she was eating lunch with Munson and kept avoiding me outside of rehearsal? No! Of course not.

***

November 1983, Los Angeles, California

The Downsides’ debut album was released on November 6, 1983, to commercial and critical success.

People immediately took to the upbeat synth sound paired with the introspective and clever lyrics. On top of that, you and Steve were, quite literally the talk of the town.

There were entire articles in gossip magazines dedicated to parsing out details of your relationship from the song lyrics on the album and coming up with theories about what the lyrics were about.

And all of that just from a few pictures of you two holding hands. Starcourt was ecstatic, they had bottled magic.

As much as everyone wanted to celebrate, you weren’t out of the woods yet, there were still the press junkets.

A growing list of TV and radio appearances that the band was required to be at plagued Hopper who was tasked with making sure you were all present and willing at these appearances. And of course, that you didn’t make fools of yourselves or Starcourt.

The label had taken it upon itself to send everyone PR briefings—essentially a long list of things no one should say under any circumstances during interviews.

Normally, you would think a list like this was overkill but knowing some of your bandmates, it was definitely needed.

All the eyes (and the pressure) would be on you and Steve, though, everyone knew that. You two were the ‘It Couple’ everyone wanted to hear from, and you weren’t quite sure what you were going to say.

The pap photos were easy: it was just walking around or sometimes getting lunch, holding hands, and looking like you were enjoying each other’s company. Something that wasn’t difficult since conversation flowed easily between the two of you.  At first, you would talk music—Steve was incredibly dedicated and knowledgeable, you quickly found out—but eventually, the two of you had branched into other topics. You learned about Steve’s life growing up in Indiana, about all his likes and dislikes, and everything about the band. He managed to pull the same information from you and you let him.

Even the physical stuff was easy, with time. In the beginning, it was an experiment of firsts. While you were pretty well-versed in the practice of feigned affection, you were used to the guy always making the first (fake) move. Most of the guys you had been "set up" with were the "act first, ask permission later" type. Steve was polite and considerate to a fault, and it took you two full dates to convince him that he didn't have to ask before holding your hand and an entire week more to work up to the kiss on the cheek. After those conversations though, touching Steve, in one way or another, had become second nature.

So much so, in fact, that it had begun to bleed into your everyday lives. It was not unusual during the time of your re-recording, to be at the studio and have Steve come up from behind you to rest his hand in the gentle dip of your waist only for you to lean back as you inhaled that scent that was uniquely him: smokey sandalwood and hair pomade.

Right around the time rehearsal started you realized that perhaps the two of you were becoming too comfortable with that type of affection, especially given how much time he spent with Robin, and you had begun to keep a subtle distance between the two of you whenever you weren’t on stage.

Steve while intelligent in his own right, had never struck you as the kind of person to pick up on subtleties, so when he brings up this distance you realize that either you severely underestimated his abilities, or you were not as subtle as you thought you’d been.

It’s a few days before the first stop of the Press Tour—An early morning slot with Wake Up, USA! —that has the two of you sitting on your couch when he brings it up. You had invited Steve over to practice answering any possible questions you may have to field together and make sure you’re on the same page.

As it turns out though, outside of music, Steve is not much for rehearsing.

“Can’t we just wing it?” Steve asks as he lies sprawled on your couch.

You huff in response, “No, we can’t just wing it. This is a big deal! This is our first time out as a couple, and we have to be believable.”

Steve scoffs at this and you raise an annoyed eyebrow in response.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs in response, “it’s just hard to act like a couple when you’ve been avoiding me for, like, the past month.”

He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry when he says this, just matter-of-fact. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you sputter out, weakly.

It’s his turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow at you.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Last time I checked you and Eddie weren’t the best of friends, but you’d rather eat lunch with him than the rest of us. You know, if you didn’t like us, you didn’t have to agree to be in the band, we would’ve understood,” he deflates as he says this last sentence and it crumples your heart just a bit.

 “I like you guys,” you say quietly, nudging his leg with your knee as you do.

“Then, is it me?” He asks, voice small and eyes low.

“No, no, it’s not you, Steve,” you rush to say.

“It’s just, I’ve never really been any good at this,” you mumble, shy under his gaze.

“Good at what?” He urges gently.

“At being friends with people.”

You continue, words clunky and difficult to get out, “At being friends with someone I’m also pretending to date.

“I mean, with the rest of the guys Starcourt set me up with, I only had to tolerate them for a few weeks, at most. With us, well who knows right? Plus, I actually like you,” you wince at this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from yourself, “I like all of you and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or cross any boundaries and hurt anyone’s feelings.”

He chuckles at this, “Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings by spending time with me.”

You shake your head, “It’s not you I’m worried about, Steve. There are other people.”

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion, “I’m not following.”

You are not sure what to say, now. You don’t want to call Steve and Robin out, it’s clear that they’ve been trying to keep what they have going on a secret, and you don’t want to call attention to that. You’re also afraid that if you mention him and Robin, you’ll eventually have to explain how when you see them together, your chest gets painfully tight. Pivot, you demand of yourself.

“What I mean to say is, it’s easier for me to keep everything professional when I have a little more space because I’m not really used to this friend thing. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t like you or the band. I like you all a lot, actually and I guess I’m just worried about messing that up.”

You can feel yourself retract into yourself the more you speak and by the end, your knees are tucked under your chin. You can’t bring yourself to meet Steve’s gaze.

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the warmth of his palm spread over the expanse of your back.

“Listen, I think… if this is gonna work, we have to be on each other’s team and part of that is talking to one another, right?  And letting each other know when we're having a hard time. I want to be on your team, will you let me?” His voice swells as he asks, and you are so aware of his warmth next to you.

“Yeah,” you nod, finally meeting his eyes, “ I want to be on your team too if you’ll let me?”

He nods enthusiastically, smiling so brightly you question if the sun has ever been as bright.

“Great, now can we please practice some of these questions?” You demand, playfully. 

“Or, or, and hear me out, we could go get burgers," he offers back.

You end up doing both.

***

November 13, 1983, Sunset Studios, Los Angeles, California

Call time for Wake Up, USA! was insanely early and you don’t think you’ve ever seen an angrier Hopper than one that has to be dealing with Eddie Munson at 5 AM. Eddie is decidedly, not a morning person.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” You deadpan to the disgruntled guitarist from your makeup chair next to his. You were not fairing much better: not only were you running on little sleep, but you were also wound tightly with nerves about your first live interview as a band and as a couple.

“Can it, Your Majesty, or we might have a case of regicide on our hands,” he warns with no real heat behind his words.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be throwing big words like that around, Munson?” Steve asks, from his spot on your other side.

“Don’t even know what that means,” he mutters, mostly to you.

“It means the murder of a king or queen,” you respond automatically.

“Doesn’t have to be just one, either. You could always kill more than one monarch at a time,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve as he says this, making his implications very obvious.

“Wow, look at us,” Steve exclaims, grinning, “already making veiled threats at each other. We’ve finally made it, honey.”

He says this last part exclusively to you punctuating it by reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze and you laugh.

The lightness of the exchange distracts you from your nerves for a moment. And from the way Eddie’s eyes linger on your hand interlaced with Steve’s.

Your brief reprieve is interrupted by the soft thud of a heavy object landing in your lap.

“What’s this?” You hold up a beat-up paperback to the culprit.

Eddie shrugs, “The Two Towers, Dustin finally got it back to me, took his sweet time too, that little asshole.”

You nod. He had lent you the first Lord of the Rings book weeks ago, while you were still in rehearsal after you had shown up bookless one day and you had devoured the book. You had been needling him for the second one since, but he had lent it to the audio engineer’s son, a kid named Dustin who idolized him and Steve in equal measure.

“Thanks,” you say, surprise coloring your voice, thumbing through the pages, eyes hungrily scanning the pages.

***

EDDIE:  I dunno, she seemed nervous.  I thought if she had something to distract her, it might’ve helped.

***

You get through the first chapter of your new book before they pull you into wardrobe.

They outfit you in a light blue dress, with exaggerated sleeves and a belt around your middle to compliment Steve’s dark blue blazer and stripped t-shirt combo.

 You feel your nerves mounting as you are helped into your heels and given your mic pack. Suddenly, everything that is riding on this is suffocating you from all ends—a visceral crushing pain that you can’t shake.

Steve appears at your side and the band had been escorted onto the soundstage your hand has been tightly wrapped around his like a vice the entire time.

“Can you, uh, loosen your grip a bit, please,” Steve asks, finally.

“Right, sorry,” you say, letting go of his hand completely and instead focusing your nervous energy on straightening his lapels.

After the third time you’ve readjusted his collar, Steve grabs both of your hands in his, and pulls you close, giving you no choice but to focus on his face.

“Hey,” he says in a hushed tone, just for you, “you don’t need to worry, okay? We’ve got this. I’m on your team, remember?”

You swallow thickly, and nod, before adding, “And I’m on yours, Harrington.”

“That’s my girl,” he says sealing the exchange with a kiss on the cheek.

***

JONATHAN: That first interview, on Wake Up, USA! was what really sold them. I mean, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other the entire time.

And then, when one of the hosts asked them how they met, Steve told this story about seeing her for the first time from across the restaurant during our first lunch together and how he was sure he had made a total fool of himself because he was so nervous to be around someone so beautiful, of course, Steve Harrington would say something like that. The audience swooned. Hell, I swooned a little bit.

And then they asked her about all the guys from her past, which was totally fucked up by the way, but she handled it great. She said she was grateful for all the mistakes she had made in the past because they had led her to The Downsides and to Steve.

Between that interview and our live performance, the audience was hooked. 

***

“Good job, you two,” Hopper says gruffly, patting you and Steve on the shoulder as you're ushered off stage after your performance.

“Thanks,” you squeak out, all the tension slowly deflating from your body after hearing Hopper’s approval.

It was done, your first live appearance complete, and it hadn’t been a total train wreck.

Actually, thinking back, it had been pretty good. There was a good variety of questions; everyone had gotten to speak; and when it came to you and Steve, well, it seemed believable at least. And the band managed to preform the new single without a hitch, all of the kinks that had plagued you during the last few weeks of rehearsals ironed out. 

Maybe you could pull this off after all.

***

By the time the band had wrapped up the week-long press junket, you were exhausted.

What had taken more of a toll than the hours of sitting in makeup chairs, too-tight shoes and repetitive questions was having to pretend with Steve.

You realize now that your problem was never the risk of not being convincing enough, but instead of being too convincing.

You had spent the entire week so physically attached to Steve, that it was beginning to feel like you were one single being. Like he was an appendage you couldn’t move without.

And every kiss on the cheek, every look, every squeeze of your hand, felt like a jumpstart to your heart.

Then there were actual interview parts. Steve was good with the press. He would draw audiences and hosts alike, in as easy as if he was winding up a thread. There was never a question that would catch him off guard and he always came off boyish and genuine in his responses. Like the time he was asked what his favorite thing about you was and he told the story of you showing up at the recording studio with cookies and having the guts to change Eddie’s lyrics in the same afternoon.

You knew better than to ask if he meant it. 

The next day, Hopper called to let you know that your album was breaking all sorts of records, and the label was incredibly pleased. So much so that they were thinking of increasing the tour dates and they were even starting to plan for future projects—projects that they wanted you to write.

The news didn’t make you feel light with joy like you had once hoped it would, instead, it made you feel heavy like a sinking stone.

A few weeks later, when the band went their separate ways for the Christmas break, you all knew something big was coming, you just had no way of knowing what.

***

JONATHAN: Right after New Year, Hopper pulls the band into a meeting in his office. First thing he told us was that they were announcing a tour with twice as many dates as they had originally planned for, demand was that high. Then he said, “From this point on, everything is going to move really quickly, there’s no getting off the ride now.”

Subrosa Article

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[azure-firecracker]

I want to know 2 and 4 of your ask game. :DD

Thank you so much for asking! You’re such a well-known blog that I fangirl whenever you interact with my posts:)

The game is here.

I’ll put it under the cut bc I know it’ll get long again.

2: Which season is your favorite and why?

This may surprise some of y’all because this is definitely the season I complain about the most, but my favorite season is Season 2! Of course, I’m only midway through Season 4 as of answering this, so that could very well change. But Season 2 just has a special place in my heart. I’m a sucker for angst, hurt/comfort, high stakes and higher emotions, and Season 2 just has that in spades. The abduction arc really marked a turning point both for Mulder and Scully’s relationship (and both of them individually), and for the show as a whole. Everything after that felt more high-drama, more emotionally weighty, everything was tinged with pain in a bittersweet way. This season gave us rescues (my favorite trope!) in spades, and though I complained about the excess of Scully kidnappings in this post, some of those rescues (as well as all of the times where the roles are reversed) are near and dear to my heart. My top 10 list is always evolving, but there’s at least 3 episodes from this season in there, and my top 2 are from this season. This is my favorite season to set fanfic in, because Mulder and Scully are so new to each other but so raw and vulnerable and they’re terrified but the world is more terrifying and they have no choice but to lean into one another for support and it’s just so wonderful.

4: Now you’ve been given a pen and a chance to write your own episode. Describe it!

I already answered this one here, but I’ll happily write another one! The last one was angsty and high-stakes, so we’ll write a lighter one this time around.

We’ll place this mid Season 3-ish. Cast members at a Renaissance Faire have been dying violent deaths, and Mulder and Scully are sent undercover to investigate. Mulder gets cast as a prince and mostly he sits and knights children which he loves. Scully gets cast as a fortune teller which is as hilarious as you’d expect, but she trades it for knight’s armor the second she can, and the whole episode she’s hiding from the people who run the Faire so they don’t know she’s switched costumes.

Anyway, everyone at the Renaissance Faire seems to think they’re actually being targeted by a dragon. Scully thinks it’s ridiculous, Mulder thinks it’s real, y’all know the drill. Mulder enlists the help of a witchy type to do a shielding-curse. It just results in things exploding and Mulder looking like Seamus Finnegan from Harry Potter.

While this is happening, Scully is having an actually emotional moment because she meets someone who reminds her of Melissa. It’s just a tender scene.

Anyway, Scully does some more investigating and finds some weird drugs on the torches they’re using. She realizes it’s a hallucinogenic drug, which would explain the delusions of the dragons, so she heads out into the woods to clean all of the lamps and fix the problem (yes she tells Mulder where she’s going. He still thinks the dragon is real so he doesn’t pay it much mind but he does tell her to be careful).

Anyway, we see Scully walking into the woods, cleaning lamps, when a big shadow looms behind her , we hear a roar, and the screen cuts to black.

Mulder sends Scully’s lamp drug results to the Gunmen, and they say it’s a hallucinogenic but it mostly makes you weak and it wouldn’t make you make up a dragon, so just as Mulder’s about to go warn Scully, the witch they asked for help earlier appears and OH NO SHE’S A TWIST VILLAIN! AND SHE SUMMONED THE DRAGON!

Anyway Mulder fights her and they basically battle through the whole Faire as Irish folk-y music plays and there’s some sword fighting moments, some jousting, some torch waving, and at one point Mulder does throw a turkey leg at her. They make their way into the fortune tent when she gets the better of him, and just when it seems like all is lost…

Scully BURSTS in, albeit very messed up and covered in dragon blood and strange goop! But she’s wearing armor! And she gets to point a sword at the witch’s neck!

Cut to them walking through the Faire, this time as visitors. Scully thinks the witch was delusional and had a big lizard, Mulder swears it was magic, same old, same old. But there is at least one knight in shining armor joke in this section, because Mulder kept one knighting necklace from when he was playing a prince, and he puts it around Scully’s neck, and they stare at each other in that way that they do.

The end!

Would you watch this? Let me know in the comments!

[sophaeros]

i just HAVE to talk to someone about this but what do we think about the song scared….? do you think it’s about julian? or maybe albert wrote it about himself?? either way, the way you hear julian’s voice towards the end make me go insane!

I FUCKING LOVEEEE SCARED IT'S SO GOOD IT DRIVES ME INSANE i always read it as directed towards julian but directed to himself is CRAZY.

You know that something inside of you Still plays a part in what I do Always, I'm here for you

this always reminds me of this les inrockuptibles 2020 quote

"I'll tell you something," says Fab. "When I played the first Machinegum stuff to Nick (Valensi - editor's note), he put his finger on something. He said, 'I'll never be able to listen to your music, or the music of any of us, without thinking about how I could have influenced it.'"

which makes me SICK to my STOMACH. and then this verse

I think that if we were all we had That's more than most people ever have Anyway, oh anyway, you can stay here

makes me think of this 2023 albert interview with the guardian

“Yeah, I knew very quickly,” he says. “There was something very special about all of us together, even early on. The universe moved when we were all together in a certain way. Like a Rubik’s Cube that gets unlocked. You either find it or you don’t. I always felt that was unique.”

LIKE. ok i said i read it as directed to julian but i think it could also be kinda wrapped up in the band too which makes sense bc to me their relationship is always gonna be intertwined w that of the band. if that makes sense.

anyway lyrically this song destroys me like what the fuck is "so close we played it as if we cared" LIKE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THATTTTTTT IM GONNA FALL TO MY KNEES......i wish we had official lyrics for julian's lines at the end (he sounds soo fucking gorgeous btw so sad hes so buried in the mix) it sounds to me like "don't push me away / [they'll/don't] get it wrong" (less sure about that second line) which is AGONISING. WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THIS.

also can i just say im so in love w the chorus and ending kicking in. so ethereal and perfect

ok ANYWAY tinhatting time. honestly it's soo hard to piece together any kind of timeline or characterisation of their rs bc theyre not really as blatant about it as some other rpf ships..not counting one way trigger. also im not smart enough to have a concrete analysis of this song. i kinda read it as like, something something the strokes staying together and not branching out despite them clearly being really dysfunctional?? like being afraid to break whatever kind of shaky balance they'd managed to find. and the song is kind of a love letter to them in light of that. but also this is a very shaky interpretation ok idk what im talking about

albert was the first to do solo stuff outside of the strokes and they urhh well theyve been supportive of one another's side projects but at the beginning.......rock & folk april 2011 ->

Nick: "We never made this much money as for the FIOE tour. When we were recording, Albert tried to make us listen to some of his solo project. I think he was disappointed by our reaction and he never talked about it again. Nikolai kept his secret. For Little Joy, I was with Fab in LA when they were writing and recording the album. I played the drums for them.”

theres a lot of push and pull in this song..you can also narrow your focus from the strokes generally to just albert and julian (bc tbh a lot of strokes/adjacent songs can be read both ways and in fact i think a lot of the time theyre best read as being about both the band and albert/julian's relationship simultaneously)

IDK this post is so long but idk if im saying anything. it kinda reads like a very tender song to an ex lover. something like no matter the status of our relationship you still have me and i still love you. i want you to stay close to me no matter what. i want you to realise you could be so much more than what you are now. yknow.