#but nothing to heavy mostly lighthearted

[retroautomaton]

[lovebugism]

steve + reader who’s insecure about her large thighs

TW for smut and body insecurities and a very self-indulgent fic (4.5k)

Ironically, Steve’s favorite part of you was the one you kept most hidden.

He hates when you wear sweatpants to bed. You always tell him you’re cold, even though you’re not really cold — you just don’t know how to tell him the sight of your thighs makes you feel icky sometimes. 

He always tells you that you don’t need them. He’ll always joke that he can warm you up the ‘old-fashioned way’ if you get cold during that night, that it’s ‘his speciality.’ 

You’re never swayed.

He hates it the most when you won’t let him touch you.

On the rare occasion you wear lounge shorts to, well, lounge in, Steve turns ravenous. He all but gravitates towards you, like he might die if he’s more than a couple feet away from you. 

And you — you’ve got no earthly idea what you do to him. You’re curled up on the couch, reading some too big novel, and so effortlessly perfect in your way. Steve can’t help but slink in behind you, press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder, and melt wholeheartedly into you with two wide hands on your warm skin. 

His palms inevitably find purchase on your exposed thighs. It’s like magnets, almost. He can’t help but touch you there, like he was made to do it.

You like when he gets like that most of the time. You giggle, all innocent, and complain like you hate it. “I’m trying to read, Stevie. Stop tickling me,” you gripe through a lighthearted laugh as his scruff brushes the base of your neck. 

You don’t try to stop him, though. Both of you know you secretly like how badly he seems to need you.

His smile curls against your shoulder. 

“I’m not tickling you,” he teases, knowingly. “I’m loving on you.”

You roll your eyes and try to concentrate on your book again. It’s harder than it was before, you find, with Steve’s all-consuming touch making you buzz in his hold. The book was just starting to get good before he interrupted you. Now you can barely remember the title of the damn thing.

“Well, you should try and find better opportunities for these situations, Stevie,” you quip.

He smacks a final, wetter kiss to the junction of your neck. Then he nods, mostly to himself since you’re not looking at him to see it — too busy pretending to read your book. His fingers twitch on your thigh before rising to toy with the hems of your bottoms.

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right,” he hums and drags his fingers to the waistline of your shorts. He dips his fingers just below them. From where he’s tucked along your back, he can feel your breath hitch. You tense and deflate, forcing yourself to relax before he can notice how rigid you’ve gone.

But Steve notices.

He always notices.

There’s nothing about you that Steve isn’t already acutely aware of.

With his free hand — the one not settled just below your stomach under your shorts, but the one still rubbing along your arm — he feels goosebumps erupt on your skin as you bite back a shiver.

His fingers dip lower, lower, lower. They graze the manicured hair of your pubic bone — the coarse hair there contrasts sharply against the softness of your slick lips. And Steve just holds you there, cups your pussy with a touch so full of filth and adoration. A nearly lethal concoction only he can muster.

You’ve long abandoned your book. The thing is close to falling out of your hands now. The paperback slips further and further from your fingertips the more lax you get. Steve can feel you getting heavier as you relax against him. You’ve borderline stopped breathing, awaiting the cruel anticipation of his touch. 

It makes the boy laugh. The heavy exhale fans against your jaw.

“So, you’re saying now’s a bad time, then?” he taunts, nose nudging the shell of your ear.

“Yeah…” you sigh. “I wanna… wanna finish my book… You’re bothering me.”

“Oh, I’m bothering you?” he smiles, knowing.

You nod, but it’s a tad bit sloppy with how drunk you’ve gone.

Steve slots a finger between your lips and hums to himself at how wet you are. He’s always amazed by how soft your pussy is, made exactly of silk and velvet.

“Then why are you so wet for me?”

You don’t answer, just whine and melt further into him. 

Steve is all too happy to let you, even though the position is a tad bit awkward. He’s got one foot planted on the floor while the other steadily falls numb from where it’s curled underneath him. He’s not moving until you come, though.

With you still slouched in his lap, he slithers his free hand beneath your thigh to open you wider for him. And you — sweet and pliable you — let him do it all without protest. You’ve got one foot beside his on the carpet and the other bent up towards the back of the couch. Perfectly spread open.

It’s not like you need the assistance or anything, though. With how wet you are just now, he’s bound to slide in without trouble.

“There you go,” Steve murmurs in your ear when you laze wholly against him. “Always so good for me. Even when you don’t wanna be, right?”

He makes you come like that once, with his fingers that you gush all over. That orgasm doesn’t have shit on the one he gives you right after. You’re always a sucker for a man on his knees for you, but Steve’s quite literally the master of eating pussy. So when his mouth locks on your clit and his hands grip your thighs to keep you pressed against him, you’re coming in record time.

It’s more than the experience, though, and Steve knows it. 

Sure, he’s been with enough girls to know what parts of them are the most sensitive, but it’s because he knows you so damn well that he can get you to explode the way you do. He knows everything you like, everything you don’t like — what you always want more of before you can beg for it and what you hate before you can tell him you hate it.

Steve Harrington can read you like a fucking book. He swears no one has ever understood a person the way he understands you.

So he knows exactly when you get in these moods, all reserved and a little upset for no tangible reason, where you absolutely refuse to let him touch you. 

Steve might be able to understand it better if you just didn’t want to have sex, but most of the time all he wants to do is love on you and you act like it’s some abominable crime. He’ll keep his hands to himself because he’ll never do anything you don’t want, but his heart breaks every damn time he can’t hold you.

He knows it’s coming when Eddie invites you out for drinks.

You’re in a great mood at the start of the day. You spend all afternoon giddy at the chance to see Eddie for the first time in ages — getting drunk with him, more than anything. But getting ready to leave is objectively less fun, and you always forget about that until your hair won’t cooperate and your makeup doesn’t look how you want it to.

Steve hears you grumble at yourself in the mirror. The disgruntled sound is muffled through the shut bathroom door. He aches to make you feel better, but he learned a long time ago to leave you alone.

You come out sometime later, dolled up and beautiful and slightly annoyed.

The boy whistles lowly at your appearance, then says, “You look hot, babe. Seriously. You could be a pornstar — easy.”

He says it to make you laugh. His chest burns when you don’t. 

You lock yourself in the bathroom with different outfits stacked in your arms. Steve tries to count how many, but you slam the door shut before he can get past three.

Hidden away in the washroom, the small space simmering with the heavy humidity of anxiety and irritation, you try on five — five — different outfits. A sexy red dress first and then an even sexier, tighter black one. You almost chose the latter until you stared too long in the mirror and hated how it looked on you.

You try on a pair of leather shorts and two more skirts after. One’s an alluring sparkly mesh number, the other a too expensive frilly thing with a slit up to your hip that Steve had gotten you a couple of anniversaries ago.

You curse yourself for even trying to look nice. It’s the same gut-wrenching cycle every time — liking the outfit you’ve put together, then hating the body inside of it. It’s your thighs that nag you most of the time. You think they’re too big, too round. They don’t look good in anything other than baggy sweatpants.

You try to look pretty and just end up hurting your own feelings.

When you storm out of the bathroom again, you do it blinking back burning tears full of anger.

“Are you ready?” Steve wonders absentmindedly before he’s even looked at the steaming ball of rage you are. He tears his gaze from the television and finds you half-naked, clad in nothing but a pretty lace bra and matching underwear — lingerie that you’d chosen for him. 

You were going to surprise him with it when you got back from the bar, buzzed and giddy with it. You would’ve played coy, and he would’ve gone absolutely wild for you… You don’t feel very much like something to go wild for now.

“Does it look like I’m ready?” you grumble in response before you realize how bitter it sounds.

Steve isn’t deterred by your annoyance. He knows it’s not at him. 

“For the Hideout?” he quips. “Totally. In fact, I’d say you’re a little overdressed.”

You toss the wad of clothes in your arms into your shared closet. You don’t seem to mind the heaping pile it leaves on the floor, even though you usually hate when it gets messy. “I don’t think I wanna go anymore.”

Steve nearly deflates. He was looking forward to going out. Going out, with you.

His legs swing over the edge of the mattress as he looks over at you with a puppy-like pout. “Why? You were so excited to go earlier, remember? You were talking about finally getting to see Eddie again—”

“We can go another time,” you interject before he can remind you of how happy you were. You start rifling through your drawers for pajamas because you’ve already given up on having a good time.

Steve doesn’t miss how your voice cracks halfway through. Or the way you go for an oversized t-shirt and those goddamn pair of gray sweatpants you use like a shield. A weapon. 

His chest aches with all the love he holds for you there. It tightens with anguish at how dejected you’ve gotten — mourning a night out before it could happen because you hate the way you look. 

He’s at a loss at how to prove how beautiful you are. He can only tell you that you’re perfect so many times before it loses meaning.

“C’mere, babe,” he commands in a soft coo.

Still not looking at him, you start to ramble: “You can go if you want, okay? I just really don’t feel like it anymore, and I know I won’t have a good time, and I don’t want to weigh you down, so… You can just— You can go without me—” 

Your voice is fragile, like cracking glass. You’re obviously overwhelmed.

“I’m not going without you,” Steve dismisses the thought almost immediately. “I won’t have a good time if you’re not there. I’d rather be with you here than without you somewhere else.”

You turn to him, pajamas balled up at your stomach. “You don’t have to say that, okay? You don’t have to pretend so you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“Can you just— Can you come here?” he bites, less than patiently. He follows that up with a kinder, “Please?”

You huff about it but oblige him anyway. You walk to his side of the bed, practically stomping like an angry child, until you’re in front of him. Steve reaches for your hands to pull you closer when you stop short. He entwines his larger fingers with your own. He raises his chin to meet your frown with a soft grin. 

“You know you look pretty in everything, right?” 

You groan and try to yank out of his grip. He only holds you tighter. 

“You do. I swear. I have to try not to pop a boner every time I see you.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“I’m serious!” he chuckles. His laughter feels like sunshine to your storm cloud. “I’m literally doing it right now!”

Steve smirks when your eyes flit down to his lap. His slacks conceal too much for you to call his bluff, but there wouldn’t be a point in it, anyway. He’s been half-hard since he saw you in your underwear. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, trying not to act like a totally ravenous teenage boy whenever you’re around. 

He sees a look of disbelief flash across your face. You squint at him, then scrunch your nose. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs with a nod. “I literally have to talk myself down, or else I’ll jump all over you.”

“You do that anyway,” you argue.

“Then imagine that times a hundred. That’s what I wanna do to you all the time,” he confesses with a twinkle in his honey eyes and a smile on his pink lips. “I just need you, you know? Like, all the fucking time. I feel a little empty when I’m not holding you. It kinda hurts now…”

You purse your lips to the side. It’s obvious you want to say something.

His gaze goes wide and hopeful. “Can I touch you more?”

You nod wordlessly.

Steve doesn’t waste a second. His hands ease their grip and dart to your thighs. They settle along the backs of them to urge you closer. Now, eye-level with your waist, he realizes that your under is see-through. The sight of your pussy makes him gulp — like, audibly gulp. The cartoonish sound makes you laugh.

Even though he’s a little embarrassed at himself, he’s glad you take amusement in it. He decides then that he’d probably lie in a busy street if he thought it might make you happy.

“See? I’m so far gone for you, it’s not even funny.”

You feel a bit like glass as you stand in front of him, fragile and completely see-through.

Steve always knows exactly what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. The thought is as comforting as it is overwhelming — to know that you’ll never have to go through the bad shit alone because he can hear all of your icky thoughts before you say them out loud.

Your eyes go heavy under the weight of your unshed tears. A delicate sigh rattles your chest.

“I just… I don’t really… like the way I look sometimes… you know?” you admit for the first time out loud. The words come out slow and a little bit choppy, like they’re hard for you to say.

“I know,” Steve coos with an understanding nod. “I know…”

His hands squeeze the skin of your thighs in reassurance because he isn’t totally sure of what to say. He doesn’t want to denounce all the big feelings you’re feeling, but it’s pretty damn hard to nurture them when he’s looking at the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

“But that’s… that’s all in your head. Your brain is just being a little mean to you, you know? ‘Cause you’re… I mean, you’re— you—” he stammers when he realizes that there isn’t a word in the dictionary that could encapsulate all the beauty you are. “I mean, you’re perfect. And that— that doesn’t even start to describe it. Maybe if I was a little smarter, I could, but… I guess that’s what I get for not going to college. Can’t tell my girlfriend how pretty she is…”

Steve musters a lopsided grin. You try to smile back at him.

“I know it’s not… That it’s not real, but… It feels real, you know? Like, I look in the mirror, and I… I just— I hate it, sometimes. I hate it…”

Steve swallows through a tightening throat. He feels like you’re talking about him. In some ways, you are. That’s his body you’re talking about — his thighs, his tummy, his everything about you that he loves so damn much.

“Well, you know what?” the boy wonders with a smile because both of you can’t be sad right now. “I’m gonna love so damn much, you’re gonna be overflowin’ with it, alright? And you’re gonna be so full of it, you’re not gonna have a choice be to love yourself. Then you’ll see everything I’m seeing ‘cause… damn…”

You’re warmed by his words — by the sheer weight of them. They feel like honey or a warm blanket, sticky and heavy and all consuming. Despite your swelling heart, you roll your eyes at the boy in front of you who’s looking at you like he’s never seen a naked woman before — like he hasn’t seen you naked a million times.

Steve always looks at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you — like he has to memorize all of your features just in case he never gets to see you again.

“You don’t have to,” you remind him, hopeful and a little forlorn. To love me, you almost say. You don’t because you don’t have to. “But you do, so… Thank you.”

“Oh, trust me, baby, the pleasure is all mine,” he scoffs, a tad bit overwhelmed with all the love he’s got for you. He ushers you closer, closer, closer until you’re forced to settle in his lap. 

You do so without protest. 

His touches feel less painful now — less like knives, and more like ice cream and summer rain and old love songs. Love personified.

His smile is crooked, his eyes are wide, and his brows are raised to his hairline. He looks boyish, full of lust and tenderness and hope. And looks at you with all of it. You’re still not sure how deserving you are of it. 

“‘Cause… look at you. You’re a fucking— you’re a smoke show, honey.”

“You really have a way with words, don’t ya, Stevie?” you laugh. You try to trap your smile between your teeth, but it does little to conceal your beaming. 

Now, higher of spirits, you settle further into Steve’s touch. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck while you make yourself comfortable in his lap.  It’s all perfectly pleasant and familiar, but you can’t miss the boner in his slacks. The raging hard-on is tucked into his right pant leg and brushing along your inner thigh.

“Huh… You weren’t kidding about that boner, were you?”

“No, I was not.”

Your eyes go from taunting to mischievous in a flash, no longer the melancholy girl you had been just minutes before. How can you be, when you’ve got this beautiful boy below you? When this beautiful boy thinks you’re so damn pretty that the sight of you’s got him hard?

“Want me to take care of it for you?”

Steve wants so badly to say yes. He stopped being so selfish somewhere between getting called bullshit at a Halloween party and finding a girl dressed as an angel puking in the bushes some twenty minutes later. He offered to give this angel — you — a ride home and hasn’t stopped thinking about her since.

“No. You don’t have to, babe,” he declines softly with warm, wide hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your outer thighs. “Not if you don’t feel up to it.”

“Well, what if I do feel up to it?” you argue and weave your hand in his hair. Your fingers dance through the chestnut locks as you slowly bring his face closer to yours. “What if I want you to fuck me stupid and make me forget why I was upset in the first place?”

His brain stopped functioning at “fuck me stupid.” His honey eyes glaze over and his pink mouth falls softly agape. He’s nodding at you before he realizes he’s doing it. “Then... I think… Yeah, we could… We could arrange that.”

You grin at him, playful like you’ve got some sort of trick up your sleeve. You slip off his lap and flop onto the mattress on your stomach. With your arms folded under your cheeks, you turn to look at the boy from over your shoulder. “How do you want me, Stevie?”

He rises slowly, unable to take his eyes off of you — or the gleam in your eye that you look at him with, or the sheer pair of underwear that practically shouts his name. 

Rather brazenly, he begins to palm himself through his slacks, working himself even harder for you.

“Like that,” he murmurs. You wiggle your ass for him and laugh when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I want you… just like that.”

He wrenches his hands underneath your thighs to tug you to the edge of the bed. Your giggle is entwined with a giddy squeal — the heavenly sound fills the quiet of the bedroom and bleeds into a soft moan when he drops to his knees and licks a fat stripe over your clothed pussy.

Steve eats you out from behind like a professional. Maybe because he is one, in some ways. He’s an expert in your body. He knows exactly what makes you tick like a time bomb until you ultimately explode.

He starts by teasing you. He mouths at your folds through underwear and doesn’t stop until your panties are sopping and you’re begging him to fuck you. He doesn’t oblige you, not yet anyway — “let me taste you first, baby,” he murmurs as he slides the sheer fabric to the side. He works you open with his tongue next. You’re so wound up, you come all over his mouth without warning.

You’re a writhing mess upon an unmade bed, forced to suffer through every wave of your overwhelming orgasm. Steve tries to aid you through the comedown. He presses soft kisses to your trembling thighs, leaving the occasional love bite on your warm skin and licking over the soft indents of his teeth on the plushest part of your ass.

The high barely has time to pass before he slips his cock into you. 

He likes you most that way — when you’re fatigued but still buzzing. It makes you more pliant that way, needier and louder for him. You don’t say anything coherent, though, just babbles of pleas entwined with his name.

Steve nearly squishes you under his weight as he fucks you into the mattress. With his back pressed over your back, the proximity of your bodies forces his cock to hit the deepest part of you, over and over and over again. The smack of your thighs and his heavy balls against your pussy and his wet kisses on your neck is a lewd sort of heavenly — a beautiful kind of sinful.

His touches are fleeting. His hands can’t seem to stay in one place for very long because he wants to touch you everywhere. He grips your hips with enough force to leave bruises there, swats your ass to hear you whine, and lets you suck on his fingers when you beg for them.

He settles, finally, on your swollen clit. He rubs you there until he feels your pulsating pussy clench around him and doesn’t stop until you’re gushing and pushing his hand away.

You’re fucked successfully stupid and totally lax beneath him when Steve’s hips stutter against your ass. He mumbles high-pitched and mindless praises in your ear as his orgasm creeps up his spine.

“So pretty for me, baby. Fuck— you’re so damn pretty like this. Pussy’s so good, too…” he murmurs just before a whine crawls up and out of his throat. He tucks his head between your neck and shoulder and whispers his sinful babbles there. “It’s so good, baby. You feel so fucking good— god, I can’t fucking… Holy shit, I love you, baby. Love you so goddamn much. Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He fills you up barely a moment later. 

Steve stuffs you full of his come, kisses you until your senses return to you, then rushes to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean the both of you up with. He parts from you after, still naked, to chuck the dirty rag into the hamper.

“Do you want me to call Eddie and tell him we can’t make it? I can ask if he’s gonna be in town tomorrow or something so we can…” the boy trails off when he rounds his side of the bed and finds you sleeping. 

Steve phones Eddie and tells him that you aren’t feeling well, that you’re sleeping now, and that you’ll call him in the morning when you’re feeling better. Eddie’s a total grouch about it because he thinks it’s Steve’s fault you’re not coming to his show.

He’ll gladly take the blame. He’s all too happy to crawl into bed beside you and clutch you like a teddy bear as he drifts off to sleep with you.

You wake the next morning, a little sore, a little embarrassed, and so so full of love. 

You peck a sleeping Steve on his slack mouth before shuffling off to the bathroom. It’s hard to miss your blowsy appearance in the mirror. Your makeup is smeared, your hair tousled, and lacy underwear still on. Your skin is in worse shape — covered in varying shades of red and purple bruises.

Your thighs and ass are littered with lovebites. Some are already fading, others are bound to stick around for another day or more. If you look real close, you can still see some of the bite marks from when Steve got particularly excited.

Covered in bits of him, remnants of his fingertips and mouth from where he’d love on you so ardently — you feel pretty.

“I’m gonna love so damn much you’re gonna be overflowin’ with it, alright?” he’d told you some hours earlier. “And you’re gonna be so full of it, you’re not gonna have a choice be to love yourself.”

You’d wanted to laugh about it then, but now it makes you want to cry — not of sadness exactly, but not quite of happiness either. It’s some foreign feeling in between that has you sick to your stomach and sparkling with contentment all at once.

You love how much Steve loves you.

And, one day, maybe sooner than you realize, you’ll start to love yourself the same way.

[ebongawk]

"Just Chrissy comforting Eddie through something" for @kirasometimess

(I actually wrote this before, but it was serious so I'm gonna make this one more lighthearted 😘😘)

The door banged open, startling Chrissy and making her slosh her tea onto the blanket she was wrapped in. Squeaking out a little, "Oh, nuggets," she set the mug aside and stood up to greet her boyfriend.

"Hey!" she said, waving from beside the couch as Eddie kicked the door closed behind him as aggressively as he'd kicked it open. "You're home early!"

A grumble was his only response. Eddie shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop to the floor as he toed off his shoes. He paused, looking down at the crumpled leather as though it had personally offended him, before letting out a heavy sigh and swooping down to grab it. Hanging it up beside her tea coat on the wall rack.

"Long day?" she asked, weaving her way through their eclectic spread of belongings – his guitar stands, her knitting supplies, their overflowing shared bookshelf – and standing just beside the entryway.

"Longest fuckin' day of my stupidly long life," he huffed, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before stepping around her and heading for the bedroom.

Chrissy pattered behind him, watching amusedly as he fell face-first onto their bed. He let out a low, muffled groan.

"Take it the new drummer wasn't up to snuff?"

The groan, which had never really quieted, grew louder against their mattress.

"Did you kick him out, or did Jeff?"

Eddie shook his head. Still face down, and she had to wonder how he could even breathe.

"Grant?"

A nod that tangled his hair against the sheets. Chrissy stuffed a laugh into her elbow, trying to disguise it as a cough, and Eddie rolled himself enough to send a single glaring eye her direction.

"S'not funny," he mumbled. "At this rate, I'm gonna have to pick up more stupid shifts at my stupid corporate job."

Chrissy hummed, gliding across the room and hoisting herself onto the bed. She shuffled up, bracketing her knees on either side of his hips and sitting down on his lower back.

Eddie worked as a part-time mechanic for a chain company that worked on small engine maintenance. He mostly did oil changes and tune-ups, and she knew he didn't hate it, but he also only worked enough to pay half their bills and rent studio space for Corroded Coffin practices. Which was perfectly fine – Chrissy made plenty to cover the rest. Eddie had supported her fully while she was in school. It was the least she could do to return the favor as he chased his dream.

"The horror of having to work full-time like a real adult," she mused. Eddie wiggled, halfheartedly trying to buck her from her new throne, and Chrissy giggled. Her hands fisted in his t-shirt like horse reins, waiting until he calmed down before she began gently massaging his shoulders.

"I don't wanna," he whined, burying his face in their comforter. "Why did stupid Gareth have to go and get his girlfriend pregnant. 'Oh, sorry guys, I know the label is finally sniffing around after our latest demo, but I knocked El up and gotta quit.' Who does that?"

"Someone who has to take new responsibilities into account after their priorities change," Chrissy responded, grinning when Eddie gradually began to relax under her touch. The stiffness in his shoulders easing with the gentle but firm rolls of her palms into his spine.

"Rude," Eddie huffed. "It's like he didn't think at all of how this would make me feel."

"How dare he," Chrissy agreed sarcastically.

"I know you're joking, but–– fuck that feels good," he moaned, adjusting until he was sprawled like a starfish beneath her touch. "But, Christ, it's like we've been doing all this shit for the past decade for nothing."

"You recorded your first demo in Jeff's garage when you were sixteen," Chrissy retorted. "I know that's technically a decade, but I don't think it counts."

"Ugh," Eddie grunted, his bucking wiggle even less effective than the last one. "Leave me alone to rot, Cunningham."

"What if I," she began, curling over his back and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, "become a Chrissy Backpack instead!"

Nose pressed against his nape, she inhaled his familiar scent. Rugged and pine and a hint of sweat from playing in the studio all day. It was her favorite smell. She wanted to figure out how to make a candle out of it and take it to work so she could smell Eddie all day long.

"You know you're going to do great things, right?" she asked him after a moment. "That label would be ludicrous not to pull you guys in. And maybe they have an incredible drummer on hand who's just waiting for the perfect band to come along, and it's Corroded Coffin, and you bring Gareth back in the future for reunion tours but you also become great friends with the new drummer, and you get to be an amazing uncle to Gareth and El's little bean."

He sighed, but turned his head a little, displaying one open eye and his cheek. Giving Chrissy enough access to lean up and kiss it.

"And then I'll be able to quit my stupid corporate job and open up a craft store where I sell hand-knitted and crocheted goods, and I'll call it 'Corroded Crochet', so everyone knows I'm with you."

"What about the people who don't know us?"

"I'll be sure to inform them in depth, don't worry."

Eddie huffed a laugh beneath her, the sound making his ribs quake and his skin taste like happiness. After letting her play backpack for another minute, he suddenly rolled over, pinning her beneath his body. Her legs kicked out and the wind whooshed from her chest.

"Ack–– Eddie! I can't breathe!"

"Backpacks don't even have lungs, Cunningham."

"But I have legs!"

"Ow, fuck, sweetness, my poor tummy!"

"Revenge, Munson."

"But it's so empty already!"

"Does it want conciliatory Chinese food for dinner?"

"Shit, baby, I love you so goddamn much."

Chrissy screamed in delight when Eddie suddenly stood, keeping her attached to his back as he galloped into the living room. He grabbed the cordless phone, depositing her on the couch as he dialed their favorite takeout place.

"Hey, Eddie?"

She could hear the phone ringing through the line when he looked at her.

"I love you, too," she reminded him.

He smiled that huge, goofy grin that made her insides melt, eyes softening and head tilting to one side as he looked at her like he'd never seen anything quite as lovely in his life. Like he wanted to pounce on her, lay himself across the couch and hold her as close a physically possible. Just as he moved toward her – probably to do exactly that – the voice on the other end of the phone spoke louder.

"Hello? Ming's Chinese?"

"Oh, shit, uh. Yeah. Yes. Hello? Fuck, sorry, sorry. I, uh, wanna order takeout?"

Chrissy laughed all the way through his order.

(inspo ask 🥰)

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 4

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 3k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3]

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 4: The promise

Your departure from the tranquil shores of your island had been hurried, leaving little time for prolonged goodbyes. Mary had embraced you tightly before you stepped onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny. Despite her attempts to mask her emotions with a smile, tears glistened in her eyes, betraying the sorrow she felt.

"You have to behave," Mary had admonished gently as Nami's announcement echoed through the air, signaling the ship was about to leave. "Try to be nice for once in your life."

“I will.” You had said understanding the weight of her words and the importance of fitting in with the other members of the crew.

"And try to reconcile with the swordsman too," she had added, her tone soft yet firm. The mention of Zoro had elicited a scowl from you, a testament to the unresolved tension between you and the rude swordsman.

"Promise me you'll try, (Y/n)," she had implored, her voice tinged with emotion.

“I promise.” You had reluctantly given your word, knowing that your promise held a significant meaning to Mary.

"Good," she had sighed, a hint of relief evident in her voice. "I'm going to miss you. You better write to me once in a while, alright?" With those parting words, she had enveloped you in a final embrace, clinging to you as if unwilling to let you go, before reluctantly releasing you to embark on your new journey.

The rhythmic clang of your hammer against the workbench you were building echoed in the air as a heavy sigh escaped your lips. The weight of your promise to Mary lingered heavily on your shoulders, a burden on your conscience that seemed to grow each passing day. Doubts crept into your mind about your ability to fulfill the pledge you had made. Day after day, the patience you had towards the swordsman grew closer to snapping.

But it really wasn’t all bad if you were honest. You had now been aboard the Thousand Sunny for over a week. The whirlwind of events still left your head spinning at times. But despite the abrupt and drastic changes that had overturned your life, you were slowly but steadily growing fond of the dynamic aboard the ship.

Your short temper had quickly become a well-known trait among the crew, but they had also discovered that it was mostly bark and little bite. They had grown accustomed to your scowls and variating moods, even finding amusement in them. Their laughter in the face of your irritation had become a familiar sound, a lighthearted teasing that somehow made you feel like you belonged.

One day, as you shared drinks, you couldn’t help but ask the girls what they all found so funny in the face of your outrage. The laughter had amplified, you hadn’t been able to help the tipsy smile hitting your lips at the infectious joy in front of you.

“It’s just…” Robin had started, laughter redoubling as she tried to explain.

“You look like an angry kitten when you scowl like that.” Nami had finished for her between two outbursts of laughter.

You’d blushed furiously, an indignant ‘No I don’t,’ muttered under your breath.

You smiled at the memory as you hammered a final nail in the workbench, marking it as completed. Franky had approached you the moment you’d stepped on the Sunny, different blueprints in hand for a forge, an excited smile on his lips at the multitude of ideas crossing his mind. He’d been so excited to build you the perfect workplace. The two of you had developed an easy friendship in the process, you were beyond grateful to the shipwright for the opportunity to continue your work.

“What’s got you smiling like that, (Y/n),” the man in question asked you, pulling you back to reality.

You turned to him, grin still touching your lips. “Just something Robin and Nami said the other day,” you replied, your voice laced with amusement.

Franky’s eyebrows rose, clearly curious. “Oh yeah? What was that?” he asked, setting down his tools and leaning in closer.

You chuckled shaking your head. “Apparently, I look like an angry kitten when I get all worked up.” You said rolling your eyes playfully.

Franky burst into laughter, the sound echoing on the walls of the small forge you were building together. “An angry kitten, huh? I can totally see it,” he exclaimed after a while.

You feigned an indignant expression. “I don’t look like a kitten, Franky”

He looked you over. “You’re not exactly threatening looking, (Y/n). A kitten is a pretty good descriptor if I can say so myself.” His big hand settled softly on your head ruffling your hair gently. “But hey, it’s all part of your charm (Y/n)!”

 You let out a scoff, the outrage clearly fake as happiness marked your features.

“You know I’m grateful to you right, Franky?” you spoke after a few seconds of silence.

“That so?” He said, moving to examine your work.

“Never in a million years would I have imagined you’d make this space for me on your ship.” You admitted.

Franky smiled, he knew you were not just speaking about the forge, but he also knew feelings were not your strong suit. “You can’t be serious,” he exclaimed. “There’s no way we’re letting your talent rot away on this ship.”

You smiled, hearing the unsaid in his words. You’re family now.

“Besides,” he continued after giving your work an approving nod. “Usopp and I are going to be pestering you with so many requests as soon as this is done.”

Sanji’s voice cut through the air, announcing that lunch was ready, interrupting the heartfelt moment.

The enticing aroma of Sanji’s cooking wafted through the air as you opened the door to the kitchen. Everyone was already there, the atmosphere buzzing with cheerfulness. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper eagerly occupied their seats, anticipation clear as they watched Sanji meticulously prepare their plates. Nearby Nami and Robin were engaged in an animated conversation, laughter contributing to the lively ambiance.

Taking your customary seat, you found yourself facing the brooding swordsman. His scowl at your presence darkened your mood, squashing the smile on your lips instantly. Your eyes dropped to the swords at his belt. It irked you beyond measure that such stunning swords belonged to such a brute. Ever since you’d noticed them, you’d been itching to see them, to hold them. To see for yourself the mastery of the craftsmanship behind these legendary blades. Hell, you’d tried to get him to show them to you every day now.

You gritted your teeth at the memory of your first attempt at broaching the subject. You’d been walking down the mountain path to their ship when you’d first asked him about them.

“Those are Wado Ichimonji and Shusui.” You had confidently stated.

He’d grunted in confirmation.

“And this one’s a cursed blade, right?” you had asked trying to make conversation.

“It is,” he had affirmed your suspicions.

“Please show them to me.” You’d earnestly requested.

“No,” had been his uncompromising reply.

And so had gone every other attempts you’d made as you clung to the hope that one day he might reconsider.

You opened your mouth, ready to ask him the question for the second time of the day.

“No” he cut you off before you could say anything.

“Fine,” you said bitterly. His stubbornness was as predictable as the rising sun.

The crew erupted into laughter at the refusal, a running gag that had become a source of amusement among them. Usopp, seizing the opportunity, rose from his seat, erasing the tally on the whiteboard before proudly inscribing the new score. "21-0," he announced with gusto. A small smile involuntarily returned to your lips, the crew's antics transforming irritation into amusement.

Yes, 21-0. That was the tally of how many times Zoro had steadfastly declined your request.

"Don’t mind the idiot, (Y/n)," Sanji chimed in, placing a plate before you. The delectable contents of the dish momentarily diverted your attention from the tension between you and the swordsman.

"That’s right!" Nami added, delight dancing in her eyes.

"I’m sure you’ll get to see them one day," Chopper offered encouragingly.

"Thanks, doc," you replied.

Luffy, ever the curious one, couldn't resist asking between mouthfuls, "Why do you wanna see Zoro’s swords so bad?"

As Luffy’s question hung in the air, you paused contemplating your response. The crew’s attention moved to you, waiting expectantly for your answer. In the corner of your eye, you saw Zoro shift almost imperceptibly in his seat.

“Well,” You began, choosing your words carefully. “I want to study them.” You couldn’t help the glint in your eyes, nor the excitement lacing your voice as you continued. “Wado Ichimonji and Shusui are legendary blades! I’ve read about those swords and the techniques used to create them so many times now but nothing would beat holding them in my hands to learn how they were made. And that third blade!” You point at Sandai Kitetsu animatedly “It’s a cursed blade! They’re so rare! You see, cursed blades choose their owners, only the strongests of swordsmen can wield them without consequences. I don’t know if the blade would let me hold it but if it did! Oh, the things I could learn!” you marveled.

Everyone looked at you with a dumbfounded look, your passion stunning them into silence. Zoro’s expression was unreadable as he looked you over. You felt a slight blush warming your cheeks at the crew’s reaction.

“Oi, you shitty swordsman,” Sanji said, breaking the silence. “Don’t be selfish and let (Y/n) look at your swords. You shouldn’t refuse a lady’s passion.” He kicked Zoro’s chair in annoyance.

“I already said no.” Zoro said, standing up abruptly. He looked down at you as though he was about to say something, but he decided against it.

 The crew exchanged glances, a collective sigh escaping their lips as Zoro stomped out of the room. Nami shook her head, muttering something about the swordsman being an idiot.

Usopp cleared his throat. “Well, that went as expected. I didn’t know you were so passionate about swords (Y/n)!” He said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know, (Y/n), if you really want to study Zoro’s swords, maybe you should try a gentler approach.” Robin suggested.

“What do you mean by that, Robin?” Chopper asked.

“Well, your first encounter was… rocky to say the least.” She answered giving you a knowing smile. You couldn’t help but shrink in your seat as you remembered your outrage that day. “Maybe trying to mend this instead of demanding something out of him would work better.” She explained.

She was right, you knew that. “I’ll… give it a try.” You said, hesitantly.

“That’s the spirit!” Franky said brightly. “Come on, (Y/n), we’ve got a forge to finish!”

You’d been working alongside Franky all afternoon, mulling over different scenarios on how to approach Zoro. The forge was almost done, tomorrow you’d most likely be able to give it a test run. You couldn’t help the excitement you felt at the thought of shaping hot steel into something new.

“Hey! (Y/n)! Where do you want to hang those?” Franky asked, pointing at the three swords you’d brought with you when you’d left your home.

You paused, considering the question. The swords held sentimental value to you, each one representing a different aspect of your journey and personal growth. Finding the perfect place to display them was important.

"I'm not sure yet," you replied, casting a thoughtful glance at the swords leaning against the doorway. "How about we leave the finishing touches for tomorrow? Once the forge is up and running, I'll have a better idea of where they should go."

Franky nodded in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. "Sounds like a plan.” He looked out at the horizon. The sun was slowly lowering in the sky. “How about we leave it here? Take it easy for the night.”

“Sure! Sounds good to me!” You answered, giving a satisfied look at the work you’d achieved today.

Franky had left before you, stating something about cola. You stayed behind for a few moments longer, trying to imagine how you’d make this space yours.

Zoro had been sitting on the deck sharpening his swords when you left the walls of your small forge. You’d been preparing a speech in your head for the past few hours, multiple scenarios thoroughly developed in your mind on how to approach him again. You’d settled on something you thought was… alright. As you eyed him, you pondered whether you should try that speech now or on another day. No time like the present, you thought walking up to him.

You cleared your throat, catching his attention.

He ignored you. You sighed.

“Look…I know we haven’t started this.” You started, gesturing at the two of you. “On the right foot.” You continued as you shifted your weight from foot to foot awkwardly. This was the closest to an apology you’d go.

He grunted noncommittally, still not looking at you. Irritation threatened to cloud your mind at the bastard’s stubbornness, but you persevered.

“But, one day, when you trust me.” You said. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you would let me have a look at Wado Ichimonji and Shusui. They’re amazing swords and I’d love to learn from their craftsmanship.” You blurted the rest of your speech as fast as possible, looking at him expectantly.

“No,” he said looking up at you with a glare.

The sliver of patience you’d had towards the swordsman shattered in you as you withstood his stare. You inwardly apologized to Mary as anger filled your eyes. Fuck the swordsman, fuck the promise.

“What?” You screeched indignantly, voice going up an octave. “Why not? I’m being fucking nice here.”

He scowled at that, looking past you. You followed his gaze. He was looking at one of your swords leaning against the door of your forge.

“You can’t be serious. You’re still hung up on that?” You snapped, sneering down at him.

He ignored you, quick movements of the whetstone resuming.

“Why are you so goddamned hell bent on holding Yokubari?” You asked.

“Why do you care, witch?” He retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. You seethed at the nickname coming out of his lips. You didn’t mind others using it but the way he’d always say it with such disdain just pissed you off so much.

You scoffed, crossing your arms defiantly. “Witch? Really, swordsman? How original.” You replied venom in your voice.

“It’s a sword, not a sacred relic. Let me hold it and I might reconsider.” He stated haughtily.

“It’s just a sword to you, huh? Are you stupid or something? I told you already, you’re too fucking weak to hold it.” You stated, index poking his forehead angrily as to make your point.

“The fuck you say?” Zoro’s temper flared. He suddenly stood up, whetstone clattering on the floor with his swords at the swift movement. He caught your collar in his fist. “Watch your mouth, witch.”

“Oh please! Spare me! I’m quaking in my boots.” You retorted throwing your hands in the air overstating the sarcasm dripping in the tone of your voice.  

“You really think you’re something, huh?” Zoro growled, grip tightening in fabric.

You snorted in disdain, your own hand grabbing his open shirt in defiance. “I think I’m more than you can handle swordsman.” You shot back looking up at him, refusing to back down. Rage crackled behind your eyes, dark spirals starting to form around the both of you as haki started to seep out of your hands.

The tension hung in the air, both of you locked in a battle of egos, unwilling to back down from each other. The crew scattered across the deck couldn’t help but glance in amusement at the brewing storm between the two of you.

Franky chuckled as he took a sip of cola. “She’s a firecracker this one.” He said to Robin who was sitting next to him reading a book.

“Isn’t she adorable?” She answered with a smile, eyes not looking up from the page she was on.

Chopper, with wide eyes, whispered with concern to Usopp, “Do you think they’re going to fight?”

Usopp shook his head, “Nah, I think it’s just their way of communicating.”

“Really?” Chopper asked incredulously.

“Aren’t they so funny?” Luffy said laughing at the impressive display of wills before him.

Sanji leaned against the railing, cigarette dangling from his lips. He smirked as he watched the confrontation before him. “(Y/n)-chwan is so beautiful when she gets angry.” He mused.

Brook standing nearby strummed a few notes on his guitar. “Ah, young love. Such a rare thing to see,” he said. “Not that I have eyes to see out of, yohohoho.”

Sanji raised a skeptical eyebrow at Brook. “I wouldn’t call it love, Brook. More like a clash of titans.” He replied, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

Brook shrugged, his bony shoulders rising nonchalantly. “Perhaps you’re right, Sanji. But there’s no denying the sparks flying,”  he said, hollow eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Alright! That’s enough you two!” Nami said abruptly, standing up from the table she’d been sitting at, when the argument got too heated. You both ignored her. She sighed, clearly annoyed as she stomped over separating the both of you with a hit to the head.

Your hand shot up to your skull, leaving his shirt alone. He did the same. When your gazes crossed again, you couldn’t help the anger filling you.

No, not anger.

Hate.

It was a strong word, an even stronger emotion, even for you. Yet, as Roronoa Zoro sneered down at you, hate was the only way to describe the feeling coursing through your veins.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[tafeekafee]

10 writing tips 

for new and old writers from somebody who has been writing since she could hold a pen and needs these reminders herself sometimes

(they will have sickfic and K-Pop examples but generally can work for anybody)

Some days will suck! You may have writer’s block or you may not be able to concentrate or for some other reason things don’t work out. Happens to the best of us. Honestly. And it’s okay. One sentence is more than no sentence. And no sentences are okay too. There is no pressure to perform here, the community is happy to wait for you!

2. Stuck with a scene? Go take a walk. Do sports. Sing karaoke to your favorite songs. Dance. Whatever takes your mind of the matter. Inspiration strikes at odd times and maybe you will find yourself back writing in no time. Still stuck? Do you know where you want to end up with the story? Write a flow chart of possible events and then SKIP the beginning/middle/whatever part you are struggling with. You can puzzle it back together later and when you have the ending the scene you hate can be turned into a nice transition to where you actually want to go.

3. Music! Believe me, the music you listen to will influence your mood and the story you write. Personally, I’ll end up with a totally different writing style depending on the kind of music I listen to. That’s why my The Rose fics end up more heavy and dark than other fics. She’s in the Rain and See-Saw have a totally different vibe than ARRIBA or, I don’t know, God of Light Music. It will reflect in the story.

4. Details! Add details. All of them. Tiny things that your character does or thinks about. What they see and hear. Tell us! Don’t be afraid to overindulge us. Paint the scene. Is there a couch? Is it red? Are the blankets comfy or scratchy? There is a totally different feeling to the story depending on what you add. 

Example: 

Jongho hated the long drive, stuck between Yunho and Mingi. 

OR: 

Jongho was stuck in the backseat of the car, much to his annoyance. Yunho and Mingi, tall as they were, both had their freakishly long legs in his footwell which left less space for him. He didn’t blame them but it didn’t help his mood in the slightest. And while he was slowly getting used to regularly indulging in human touch, he didn’t enjoy how their warm upper bodies intruded on him, especially since they all were sweaty from dance practice. And, holy hell, he loved them but they were loud. The maknae just wanted some peace and quiet, listen to some music and get ready to sleep once home. But he had another twenty minutes left where he had to deal with their fake arguing crashing over his head and trying not to elbow them into the side. 

5. Unnecessary details! Also add them! You don’t always have to stay strictly to the red line or go from A to Z. Explore T and E as well (sorry, that joke had to be included). They can talk about other stuff than what the story is about. Add jokes, add other dialogue, add things that might not make the story linear.

If you take my Wooyoung sickfic e.g., the first part is just bickering between MATZ and has nothing to do with the story. But it’s still nice to have and I enjoyed writing it. 

6. Consider the theme of the story. A story of a hungover character can’t be written in the same light-hearted style as a mental health issue story. Take the characters into the setting. In my Hajoon centric series I mostly write very detailed and explain a lot but also there is so much emotion. That wouldn't work for a chase scene or a stupid injury story. These can be and should be fast paced! So think of the emotions you want the reader to feel!

7. Characters! Your story will be different depending on the character you write about. Who are they? 

Are they serious? Write more seriously!  Are they funny and happy-go-lucky? Then the story should be more lighthearted. 

This also goes for the next point, but different characters note different things. 

Are they tall? They will see more than short characters and you can reflect that in writing. But also do they have habits you can include? Disabilities? Fears? 

Minho won’t be the one consoling Felix on top of a tower because he will be scared of the heights.  Wonwoo might not be the person to see everything because of his bad vision and Seungcheol might not be able to sprint 200 meters to help somebody with his knee injury.  Yunho might not be able to see the expression on San’s face when San looks down, but Hongjoong might, since he still looks up to San height-wise.  Hajoon likely won’t be the one to talk to strangers to ask for something, so have Dojoon do the talking.

8. Whose perspective are you writing from? Look at the point above but also consider what they actually can know. 

Woosung won’t be able to tell that Jaehyeong’s pain is getting worse if he isn’t showing obvious signs. 

Here goes the details advice again: Use them to your advantage. 

Yunho can’t know that Seonghwa is feeling dizzy … unless he starts to sway on his feet, holds onto something or says anything about it. So write about that. 

Or if we look at a character getting sick:

If Seungmin is throwing up he can tell the reader that the taste in his mouth is bad and that his throat burns. Hyunjin might see the color or the tears on his face or hear the sounds while Seungmin is oblivious. 

9. Everything seems repetitive and the same? Your words don’t flow?

Honestly, a thesaurus is your best friend. Have one on hand when writing, just google it. Or even better, if possible for you, use a voice activated one: Alexa, give me a synonym for “x”! I get help without even having to turn away from the document. 

If you’re not sure if the synonym still fits into the sentence, put the whole sentence into google translate and translate it to your native language or from English to something else and back to english. If a whole new word comes out or the sentence doesn’t make sense it probably doesn’t work. Or, honestly, ask: There are so many people on here who will help you without a second thought. We all root for you!

Speaking of non-natives (hello 👋🏽): A dictionary on standby also helps. It gives different words and sometimes you just won’t remember or don’t know a word in your goal language. Happens. Again, Alexa works most of the time and gives you different options!

10. Lastly and most important: Hate what you wrote? Stop! You’re doing great. Maybe it won’t fit the story this time but maybe a different story of a different part? Don’t delete it. Move it to the bottom of the document or maybe a whole new document. But don’t delete your precious words.

Ignore the tiny voice in your head that tells you that everything you do sucks and it doesn’t matter what you write. People won’t die if a story is less than 100%. Don’t compare yourself to others! Even if we were given exactly the same detailed prompt we will end up with two totally different stories. And my normal is not your normal. Somebody's writing style may be different than yours but that doesn’t mean yours is bad. Take it one day at a time and remember to love yourself and do what makes you happy!

[phatcatphergus]

it’s concerning how certain “lore analysis” bloggers will see a character experience very real symptoms of ptsd and extreme trauma, and write it off and belittle that character’s pov because they find the way the cc portrays it as “annoying and fail rp”

it’s even more frustrating when you yourself experience those same symptoms and heavily relate to the way q!tubbo acts. cc!tubbo does an excellent job at having a character struggle with trauma in a way that’s neither dismissive of the character’s ptsd, or too heavy and serious for the context of it being a mostly lighthearted minecraft rp.

Absolutely.

I do have to agree that CCTubbo got a bit out of hand a few times, but it's nothing that people haven't done before or even DURING that stream. I am not going to defend him and say that everything was within rp yesterday bc it was obvious that CCTubbo was a bit bored and tired of the lore so he just did whatever (I also think the -rp points and constant disregard for him speaking of the mechanics had something to do with it as well) but overall it's obvious that his character was lashing out because he's been hurt.

He also made points to say that nothing could go wrong or he would "end it permanently" yesterday so a forced optimism and making light of a stressful situation was warranted like when he read Ramon's letter and when Bagi was explaining the lore.

Overall, I'm just mad that people are mad at Tubbo specifically when Phil gave no shits about Dapper being kidnapped and Mike was messing around just as much yesterday. People are just hypocritical and use any excuse they can to make their favs seem better when they do the same shit. disregarding obvious rp and trauma of a character or saying that they should only act a certain way bc they're traumatized just means that they know nothing about what they're talking about and just don't like the character/streamer

[mortyvongola2-0]

Day 2: Mutual Masturbation

Loving Lesson

Pairing: Gaara of the Sand x Reader

Genre: Oneshot, smut, kinktober prompt

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: afab!reader, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, fapping, pretty fluffy ngl

A/N: This is the softest smut I've ever written. Very fluffy, very domestic, very loving. For once there's not even any dirty talk which is crazy for me. If you're looking for more intense Gaara stuff don't worry, there will be later. Hope you enjoy!

Read it on AO3

Physical affections were something foreign to you, but you were learning and adapting quickly. Your boyfriend was rather similar in his comfortability with touching. You both had overcome much, initially hand holding had been the extent of both of your tolerances for a few months before moving forward to embraces and continuing the progress to get to what you were so anxiously excited about. Both of you had been together long enough, longer than most other couples before they passed the stage you had yet to take on but that didn’t matter, what mattered is that you both felt ready.

He had broached the subject first, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and an avoidant stare to the side the only tells as to his own mental anxiety about the question. You had agreed, maybe a bit too quickly. The both of you had decided on a night where you both had a relatively lax schedule and you waited anxiously for the day to arrive. When it came, you had to ask your best friend to help you prepare.

She had helped you choose clothes, specifically underwear, that you had no idea even counted as underwear. You had never felt so pretty before, it was a good feeling but an unfamiliar one. When you arrived at his door you felt like your heart might burst from your chest. It’s just a regular date, you reminded yourself. A regular date with a little extra after dinner.

Before you could even knock on the door it opened and your favorite redhead stood before you, his body language giving more away than his face. He was a bit tense, his shoulders set back and straight, his hands clenching and unclenching, and there was an unrest to the sand around him. His nerves made you feel a bit better about your own. You smiled at him, wide and loving before he let you in and your date began.

The food was delicious, the conversation lighthearted and mostly steered away from work. When it came time for the after-dinner portion you were so comfortable you had almost forgotten about your plans. He held your hand gently, stroking the roughened skin from years of ninja work and training, as you both sat on the couch. Was he procrastinating or was he just taking your comforts into consideration? Either way you didn’t mind, you knew that he wanted you and that you wanted him too. Hesitation always came with change. Even if he suddenly changed his mind, you would be alright, maybe a bit disappointed, but respecting his boundaries was more important.

He hesitated a moment, his gentle strokes pausing as he looked you in the eyes. That lovely seafoam green made you melt a little bit. His gaze was meaningful and endearing. “Are you ready? We can do this later if you need more time.”

You thought for a moment, despite already knowing your answer, you wanted to be as sure as you could be; masturbating, but together, that was a big step after all. The farthest you both had gotten was some light under the clothes exploration, nothing too heavy. But you wanted more, much more. You wanted the full relationship experience and you only wanted to share it with him. He was the love of your life after all.

“No, I’m ready. Are you ready?”

His light strokes resumed as he gave the same amount of contemplation you did before he nodded seriously. “Yes, I want to—” he cut himself off and looked to the coffee table for a moment. The young Kazekage turned back to watch you intensely, his eyes looked like molten colored glass. “I want to learn how to make you feel good.”

You didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to feel any warmer.

“Me too,” you muttered, feeling the twisting nerves in your gut from excitement and nerves. A lump began to form in your throat and to distract yourself from the thrum of your overly-excited heart you leaned forward to press you lips to his. You noticed that his were a bit chapped, not that yours weren’t, but you decided that when this was all over you were going to tell him to drink more water. Should you gift him a bottle for your anniversary? Maybe a big one, with cute cactus stickers—focus on Gaara, dummy.

Right, focus, you chastised yourself. He kept his hold on one of your hands as he gently reached behind your head with the other one. Carefully, with little pressure, he brought you closer to deepen the kiss. Your tongue moved first, licking against him and coaxing his own into action. His tongue met yours and they stroked one another with a soft eagerness. You pulled your hand from his and wrapped your arms around his neck and he placed his now free hand on your hip. His tongue moved back first, allowing yours access to his mouth which you took full advantage of.

On average, you found that he tasted like sand. Not terrible, but also not the best flavor, but to your pleasure he tasted more like dinner with a hint of sand. A pleasurable change that made you hum into his mouth. Once your tongue was finished stroking the roof of his mouth his tongue entered yours. He dragged his tongue against the inside of your cheek and you begin to run your fingers through his crimson hair.

When you both pulled away you felt alight with excitement, you both watched each other as you breathed before you nodded and detangled yourself for a moment, beginning to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Here or the bedroom?”

He took a moment before replying, “Bedroom.”

With eagerness, you both stood at the same time and began to walk, albeit a bit quickly, toward his room. After you both entered, he shut and locked the door, and you took off your fancy shirt and folded it before setting it off to the side. You fiddled with the frilled bow at the front of your bra for a minute before working up the courage to look at him. He seemed enamored, his hands unsure of what to do but his eyes soft and heated as they took in your rarely bare form. Gaara, whether to level the field or to get to the pleasure quicker, he took his shirt off as well.

You’d seen his bare chest only a handful of times, but the more you saw of it the better. His pale skin and lithe muscled form always excited you. For a moment you contemplated removing your pants too before deciding that was indeed the best option. When you had finished folding and setting down your clothes you waited anxiously for his next move. Likewise, he removed his pants and placed them neatly on top of his dresser. “Should we sit on the bed?”

He nodded, and you both got on opposite sides and faced each other. The redhead kissed you this time, and you ran your hands along his exposed chest until he began to shudder. His hands wandered and gently pressed against your covered breasts before stroking along your sides. You shivered when his strong fingers settled on your naked inner thighs. When you both pulled away, a small string of saliva connected your mouths for a moment before it broke and you asked, “Should we get started?”

Gaara’s serious nod made you giggle a bit, feeling high off of your nerves, and he gave you a small smile. You took a deep breath as you sat back from him and he from you, making sure that both got a good view of each other. He kept his boxers on, you didn’t push him to remove them, but his hands shook as he removed his erection from the black material. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was on the longer side with a thickness that looked just right. You felt your sex throb.

Your staring seemed to get to him, as he looked away with cheeks and chest almost as red as his hair. His adam’s apple bobbed, “Can I see you to?”

Broken out of solo staring contest, you nod nervously before hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your hips. You almost squeaked when you realized how wet your underwear had gotten, and when you spread your legs for him you bit your bottom lip as you showed him just how excited you were. His breathing audibly stuttered, and your fingers twitched as they rested on your trembling thighs.

You wanted to squirm as his eyes were glued to you, and you understood how he felt while you stared at him. Were you pleasing? You thought you looked relatively normal but maybe there was something weird you hadn’t seen. “I-I’m going to s-start, okay?”

“Right,” he swallowed thickly. “Right, me too.”

Slowly, you brought your fingers to the wet skin of your lower lips and ran them over your excited flesh. You didn’t masturbate often, but you had once or twice to the thought of your boyfriend. But when he was there in front of you, doing something similar while watching you, it made it hard to think about anything. Your eyes were drawn to the slow up and down stroke of his fist as he began his own show, you became transfixed.

As you watched his rhythm, your own naturally followed. When he thumbed his tip, you circled your thumb on your clit, when he stroked all the way down before slowly stroking up again, you gently inserted a finger into yourself and moaned. Your thumb stayed on your clit and you pumped your finger to the same speed of his hand. It seemed like he hadn’t been fully erect when the two of you started, as his member had only gotten bigger and more agitated as you continued.

Eventually you decided one of your fingers wasn’t enough, especially while looking at such a lovely example of what could be stuffed inside of you instead, and you added a second. The stretch was something you weren’t entirely used to, but Gaara seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sight. His cock had throbbed, so much so that even you could see it, and the tip had dribbled more of the clear fluid than it had been releasing before. He groaned and you moaned in response.

You moved your free hand up and removed your bra, beginning to feel impatient. Your thumb sped its circling as you heard the sounds of his wet skin and your own slick meld together, accompanied by your soft noises and his pants and grunts, in a sensual symphony. “Gaara,” you let out as you thumbed your left breast until your nipple pebbled under your touch. The tightening in your abdomen grew stronger and it became harder to not close your eyes and revel in the feeling, but you didn’t want to miss a second of him.

The tips of his ears, his cheeks, neck and top of his chest was flushed a delicious shade of pink. His brow bone and forehead were furrowed in concentration and his eyes remained glued to your slick soaked fingers and thrumming clit. He had yet to notice your naked breasts. Your boyfriend let out a moan of your name and you mewled and began to scissor yourself. You didn’t think you would last much longer. His lust blown eyes trailed up your body and took in your naked breasts eagerly. The redhead watched them rise and fall with every shaky breath you took, and jiggle with every thrust of your fingers.

“Not much l-longer,” you whimpered. Your skin tingled and you began to feel the pleasure more and more intensely.

“Me too,” his gravelly voice took on an extra level of baritone. So deep that if he had spoken it in your ear you would have cum just from the sound alone. “T-Together?”

“Together.” You nodded, still breathy and on edge.

Your eyes met and stayed glued together. If only you were the one stroking him, if he was inside would it feel even better than this? He reached his free hand out and you leaned toward it, placing your cheek in his warm hand and tentatively licking his open palm. The redhead flinched, his eyes squeezed shut and he gasped your name.

You felt it before you realized, and you let out your own gasp when the hot fluid hit your leg. “G-Gaara,” you moaned out, over drawn and breathy as your orgasm flowed through you. Your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curled as your hands stopped their motion and you tried to catch your breath. His thumb rubbed your cheek continuously, his other hand still as he remained hunched over.

“I didn’t learn anything,” he huffed, slight amusement to his tone. A breathy laugh left your lips and you brought your head down to rest against his forehead, in a teasing lilt you said, “Really? I learned that you need to drink more water and,” you licked your lips before lowering your eyelids in an attempt at being sultry, “I memorized every little move you made, love.”

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @justmyownreality @hashira-mal

Previous Day || Next Day

|| Kinktober 2022 Masterlist ||

[garden-of-omegas]

⚜ FIRST MEETING [OBEY ME - DATEABLES] ⚜

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: diavolo | barbatos | simeon | solomon summary: the details of your first meeting with your future mate. warnings: depression, therapy, referenced nudity rating: sfw a/n: this ended up being a weirdly heavy one, not entirely even on purpose, but when two of the four portions have to do with mental health heavily that's what ends up happening. thankfully the first and last ones are pretty lighthearted.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

≿━━━━༺❀ diavolo ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were living a rather isolated life away from other people with your mother, in a bog filled forest. probably why everyone thought the two of you were witches (not an entirely wrong assumption), and lead to the two of you not really associating with people.

✿ you were fifteen, in the middle of your rebellious phase (that would to your mother's unfortune remain permanently). diavolo was, while in demon terms still pretty juvenile, an endless being.

✿ you were in the middle of your home forest, with some supplies and a book stolen from your mother, attempting to learn to control your magic. it didn't exactly work, and you ended up accidentally summoning diavolo, who was, to put it mildly, confused. you were too to be fair.

✿ diavolo ended up taking quite the liking to your weirdness and after your initial awkward meeting would come by every once in a while to simply spent time with you, leaving your mother very confused. [☘]

✿ diavolo found you to be endearing, what with your reckless but endlessly brave drive to just live. in his eyes, you were an exemplary human. he didn't even mind getting you out of all the trouble you were constantly getting yourself into. mostly you just thought that diavolo was weird, talking about demon-human relations (in a diplomatic sense) and all this crap about peace. so yeah, he was very weird for a demon, but he was the only consistent company you kept so... he was fine.

≿━━━━༺❀ barbatos ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you'd just recently got out of your latest self-isolation slump, after the unfortunate passing of your parents. you were rather used to death at that point, but you were now alone in the world, and that terrified you.

✿ you were 18, barely considered an adult by most people, and even by yourself. it'd been about three months since the funeral. barbatos, well, nobody knows how old he has ever been so...

✿ you were attempting to get out more, though you were still very clearly in the middle of a depression slump as you were sitting in a little corner cafe near your apartment. they had the best tea ever, in your opinion, and you were hoping it would work as a little pick me up. it didn't, at least until an eccentric but cute man sat from across you.

✿ you didn't speak for a little bit after that, but eventually barbatos introduced himself and started chatting with you. you got to know each other rather well, and after you cheered up a bit barbatos left, but weirdly enough a week later showed up at your apartment to cheer you up a little more.

✿ when barbatos saw you sitting alone at that table, looking like a kicked puppy, he couldn't help himself but to try and help you. maybe it was the servant in him, or maybe something deeper, but he felt an immediate connection to you and needed to get you to smile. barbatos was an angel to you, you were (ironically) certain of it. not only did he manage to make you actually smile and laugh for the first time in months, he was so ethereal that you were for a while convinced that you'd made him up.

≿━━━━༺❀ simeon ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were in therapy, to put it simply. it was at the very beginning stages of your road to recovery from years of mistreatment by your family, and you were determined to put your past as far behind yourself as you possibly could.

✿ you were about 20, having recently "ran away" from home and started living on your own. simeon was and is an ageless angel, so nothing new there.

✿ you were standing outside your therapist's office building, debating whether to even go. i mean, how much could some stranger help you anyways? but that was answered when simeon appeared (seemingly from nowhere) and gave you some much needed encouragement to get your life in order and just go.

✿ you 100% didn't expect to see the pretty stranger again after that, but simeon would show up every week right before your appointment to give you even more encouragement and support. initially you began to think he was a stalker of some kind, but after he told you he was your guardian angel you came to the conclusion that he probably also has therapy at this office around the same time as you.

✿ simeon, basically being your guardian angel, had always had a bit of a bias towards you, and that didn't change upon meeting you. despite your wild ways, he couldn't help but admire your determination and dedication to bettering yourself. you were fairly certain simeon was a bit... not there. but he was a good person, always trying to help you in anyway he could. his mere presence started cheering you up, and him being absolutely ethereal wasn't helping your slight crush.

≿━━━━༺❀ solomon ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were considered to be a bit of a scholar at the time, mostly by your association with several italian philosophers and artists, such as leonardo da vinci and michelangelo. you had no opinion the matter, as mostly you were just recovering from the last plague and it's effects.

✿ you had absolutely no idea how old you were at that point, not necessarily because you forgot but more due to the fact that you weren't raised by people who really cared to count such things. solomon at the time was about 2500 years old, give or take some.

✿ you were working as a model for michelangelo for one of his sculptures, which mostly meant sitting in place for six hours a day. you didn't particularly mind though, but when your friend got a visitor in the form of a young man with shocking white hair, you didn't mind the chatting you got into as your friend wasn't one for such things while working.

✿ neither of you realized the other was immortal for a long while after your first meeting, though you'd bump into each other quite often during your stay in florence. you were both rather glad for the intellectual company.

✿ well, solomon's first thoughts were on how absolutely hot you are, seeing as you were basically naked lounging on a settee. but after talking with you for a short while, he came more so to appreciate your endless curiosity and intellect. you thought solomon was kind of weird, but you surrounded yourself with weirdos all the time so you didn't really mind. besides, he was on the smart end of things and if there was anything you appreciated about a person, it was their brain.

[whisperofsong]

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Female Reader

Summary: When an unfortunate incident occurs at work, you’re prepared to console Bradley.

Note: I realize that I haven’t written as much for Bradley and that’s mostly a result of him being the most challenging character for me to write out of the three TGM men. Nevertheless, I adore him and hope you enjoy this piece💛

____________________________________________

It’s almost the weekend and you couldn’t be happier. As soon as you get in your car after your shift, you rifle through your collection of CDs and pop in one of your favorites. A cheerful melody greets your ears and serves as ideal background music for the ride home.

Despite the heavy traffic, you find yourself sporting a soft smile when you glance in the rearview mirror and are able to pinpoint the reason behind this smile: Bradley. You had only been living together for a few weeks and although the novelty would eventually wear off, the thought of Bradley being there when you return is enough to send your heart soaring. The joy you experience in his presence is like nothing you’ve ever known and you can only hope that this joy, along with Bradley, will remain permanent facets of your life.

You sigh dreamily as you park your car in the narrow driveway. The sound of the key entering the lock is comforting to you because your Bradley is waiting on the other side. When you walk in, the house is quiet. You notice Bradley’s belongings that sit on the first step of the staircase and the keys that rest on the mini table in the hallway. You peek your head into the kitchen that connects to the family room, suspecting he may be lounging in one of them, but they’re both vacant.

“Bradley?” you call out.

“I’ll be down in a few,” he replies from upstairs. Typically, he would have bolted down the steps to greet you and pepper your face with kisses with that dopey, but insanely lovable grin you now regard as beloved.

You debate waiting for him downstairs, but ultimately decide to check on him. Your feet softly brush the carpet in your shared bedroom and you find him sitting on the edge of the bed while looking straight ahead, completely still.

“Bradley?”

He turns his head and although he smiles, it’s a faltering one with a hint of sadness. “Hey, baby. Good day?”

“It was decent. Even better now that I’m with you.” You join him on the bed and wrap your arm affectionately around his broad shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

He looks down momentarily. “It’s dumb. Really, I’ll be fine,” he assures you, but his tone and body language are less than convincing.

“You’re not fine right now, though. Tell me what’s going on, Bradley.” You gently bury your hand in his thick, wavy hair in an attempt to soothe him, to let him know he’s safe with you.

He sighs and scratches behind his ear, something he does when he’s uncomfortable. Although Bradley always welcomes you confiding in him, he grapples with his own ability to be forthcoming.

“Work…threw me off today. I, uh…you know how I keep that photo of my dad and me in the pocket of my flight suit?”

You nod in confirmation, listening intently.

“When I pulled on the zipper to open that pocket, the zipper got caught on the photo. I tried to remove the photo carefully, but I pulled on it a little too forcefully and it, uh, it ripped somewhat.” He hangs his head before laughing humorlessly. “It’s stupid, I know. I mean, what aviator mopes over a slightly ripped picture?”

You stare at him, observing his forlorn expression that he’s trying to conceal, and the way his shoulders are sagging. It breaks your heart to see him like this and he recognizes this, too, which is why he’s forcing a lighthearted demeanor.

“Bradley. It’s not stupid,” you assert. He glances at you and studies your features. “That photo is special to you and I know how much comfort it provides you. There’s no shame in that.”

“I should get over it, though. I mean, it’s not worth all…this,” he says as he waves his arms around.

You refuse to let him belittle his feelings and want to dispel this notion. As a result, you grip his nape in your hand and turn it towards you so that you’re making eye contact. “I need you to listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw, okay?”

Bradley nods very slowly and doesn’t tear his eyes away from yours. His creamy brown eyes contain an abundance of love and trust.

“You’re allowed to express your feelings. In fact, it’s healthy to do so and, more importantly, I want you to do so with me. I care about you and your feelings matter.” You lean forward to press a firm kiss to his forehead before leaning yours against his. The bedroom is quiet except for the soft sound of your mingled breathing filling the space.

“I don’t want to burden you, Y/N,” he admits while looking into your eyes solemnly.

“You’re never a burden, Bradley. You’re always a blessing” you answer honestly. His eyes significantly soften and in response, he leans forward to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is languid and tender as he slides his palm across your cheek. It’s impossible not to become immersed in kissing Bradley when he makes you feel loved beyond measure. Every. Single. Day. However, this is about him.

You slightly back away and although he attempts to reconnect your lips, you press your fingertips to his plump ones. “Do you know how much I love you?” you question.

“I do. I really do, Y/N,” he breathes while his fingertips graze your delicate skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

You smile and then ask, “Where‘s the photo?”

“Oh, I, uh, put it in my bag.” You immediately get up from the bed and race down the stairs to retrieve it. Once it’s safely within your grasp, you return to your bedroom and walk past a confused-looking Bradley. You place the photo on the top of your dresser before opening the drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed. After looking under several items, you finally locate what you were looking for and hold it behind your back as you pad over to Bradley.

“Whatcha got there?” he inquires with an intrigued expression on his face.

“A little while ago, I took some of the photos that I know are significant to you and had extra copies made.” You thrust the photo that was previously behind your back in front of Bradley and watch as his eyes widen in surprise . He slowly extends his hand to take it from you.

“You did this for me?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course. I had a feeling it would be wise to have another copy. Just in case,” you smile affectionately.

He smiles as he gazes at it in his hands before pulling you into his lap in one swift motion and enveloping you in a tight embrace. “Thank you so much,” he mumbles into your neck, inadvertently tickling you. “Thank you so much, baby.” His mustache tickles you more as he decorates your neck with kisses. You cradle his head in your hands and revel in the sensation.

“One thing, though,” you tell him.

He quickly lifts up his head. “Name it.”

“You need to take really good care of this one,” you instruct him with a wry smile.

“Oh, I plan to,” he replies before kissing you once more.

@bradshawsbaby @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @demxters @sunlightmurdock @theforgottenmcrmy @sebsxphia

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 28 — Haunted Hotel

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 900

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Angst — creepy/eerie vibes, supernatural occurrences (ghosts).

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Flufftober Masterlist

“… and here is your key. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” you said calmly, trying to hide your bouncing excitement as you took the key from the hotel receptionist's hand.

You turned on your heels towards your boyfriend, waving the key as you held a significant smile on your face. In contrast, his demeanour was quite the opposite—brooding face and arms crossed over his chest, not happy with staying overnight at the haunted hotel that you'd begged to visit for the last two weeks.

“Let the spooky fun begin,” you grinned while walking past him and up to your hotel room, Bucky following behind with heavy steps and mumbling his annoyance as he carried your bags.

Once upstairs, you packed out the things you would need for the ghost hunting you and Bucky were going on tonight. The room was just as eerie as the rest of the hotel. Dark corners that felt like someone was standing and watching, and weird sounds that you tried to rationalise with the building being old and decrepit.

Bucky was still in a mood as he put away his toiletries in the bathroom, so you went up behind him, wrapping your arms around his muscular torso to try and comfort him.

“Thank you, babe. Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me despite not wanting to. I appreciate it.”

He sighed before turning around in your arms and holding you close to him, kissing your forehead. Once he saw your pouting face, he finally smiled for the first time since you got to the hotel.

“Of course, doll. Sorry for being an ass about it all, but to be honest, I'm actually… um,” he scratched the back of his neck while a soft pink tinted his cheeks, “kinda scared,” he muttered in embarrassment.

Your eyes widened in surprise at that. “My super soldier? Scared of ghosts?” You teased and couldn't help but giggle, which made Bucky pout at you for making fun of him.

“I'm just teasing you, babe. Don't worry; I'll keep you safe tonight.” You cradled his face and caressed his warm cheeks with your thumbs.

“I know you will,” he smiled as he rested his forehead on yours.

It was still a little early to wander the corridors for the ghost hunt, so you and Bucky decided for some late dinner at the hotel restaurant. After you were full and satisfied, you went to the room again to relax and charge up for the long night ahead.

2 AM

Dressed in comfortable clothing and with your equipment in hand—an EMF reader, camera and flashlights, you went on to explore the haunted estate. The first part of the “investigation”, which you conducted throughout the floors and hallways of the main hotel, led to mostly nothing other than a few creaking and odd sounds and possibly an orb or two in pictures.

You were going to call it a night since you didn't come up with any results or evidence. That was until you found a door that led to a restricted area that seemed to lead to the basement. Your eyes lit up, while Bucky, your brave and powerful super soldier, seemed very reluctant to go down into the darkness. But with your soft and big puppy eyes, he couldn't deny you your excitement and adventure.

As soon as you went further down, the mood and atmosphere changed from lighthearted and fun to eerie and sinister. Downstairs was nothing but evil. A tightness in your chest made it hard for you to breathe, and you felt a growing foul manifestation lingering behind you.

It only got more uncomfortable the deeper you went. The shadows and figures you saw didn't feel like it was a trick of your mind and vision anymore—they were real. And when you felt a chilling whisper at the back of your necks telling you to “get out”, followed by a clear and undoubtedly apparition of a ghost in a long white dress further along your path, you both went stiff in terror. It felt like an eternity as you stood and watched the figure just standing and being, but it had only been a couple of seconds of you observing before you both bolted out of there and back to where you came from.

Bucky was white as a ghost, and you were shaking about the whole event when you returned to the room. Speechless, you sat on the bed to process, and in the end, you both agreed that due to it being so late, the thrill of the hunt, and you both being somewhat tired, what you saw was nothing but the figment of your shared imagination, and you agreed that you should forget and go to sleep.

Snuggled up in bed under the warm and safe comforters, you spooned Bucky as he needed the comfort and reassurance for what you had put him through due to your wish to hunt the supernatural. As you were on the brink of falling asleep, you felt a weird sensation on your lower back—like cold and uncomfortable fingers running across your skin.

“B-Bucky? A-are you touching my lower back?”

“N-no. Are you touching the bottom of my foot?”

“Um, n-no…”

You both scrambled out of bed after that, and packed your bags in a hurry before you got the hell out of the haunted hotel and back to your safe and sound space that was your lovely home.

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[icemankazansky]

Hey, I want to ask what are your favorite IceMav stories? On Ao3, tumblr or whatever side you read fics. ☺️

You have no idea what you've just summoned.

Come sit by me.

You have asked for my favorite Icemav stories, which means that this list is going to leave off some truly excellent Icemav, because for the most part my favorites, the ones I read over and over again, are more lighthearted and sexy and have happy endings.

These stories are all Top Gun, and they're all Icemav, so I've only listed the rating by each title.

In no specific order:

by @boasamishipper :

Since she began creating for Top Gun in 2019, Boa has become a fixture of the fandom, an important voice that is capable of both the fluffiest fluff and the most heart-rending angst. She writes mostly Icemav, but she has branched out more than a lot of people from the pre-TGM era, and written more pairings and more characters than any other TG writer I know personally. This list might look a little odd to some people more familiar with her work, because she has written some amazing, novel-length AUs and crossovers and plotty, heavy stuff, but again, these are my favorite stories, and I like her Icemav when they're soft.

Word on the Street (Teen) Sharon looks down at her wedding ring and says a prayer for the handsome Navy pilot that’s heading their way. He’s got no idea what he’s in for. / Or, Iceman and Maverick versus the Real Housewives of Fallon, Nevada.

This is an outsider POV story in which Ice and Maverick scandalize (and titillate) the suburbs of Fallon, completely on accident. It's funny, it's sweet, and the payoff at the end is so satisfying.

let's talk about sex, baby (let's talk about you and me) (Teen) This is a college AU for the prompt: I keep coming in to take condoms from the health services desk because I think you’re cute and I’m pretty sure you must think my sex life is wild.

In which Pete Mitchell, over the course of a semester of college, continually fails to ask Tom Kazansky to go out with him. This one is light and funny and kind of innocent and hopeful in a way, because they're young and they have crushes, and nothing is more important than that ... except maybe that organic chemistry final.

when i see your face (General) In which Maverick Mitchell wakes up from surgery, high on painkillers, and hits on his husband.

This is everything I want for modern Icemav. They're married, they're so sweet together, and they love each other so, so much. Drugged Maverick is hilarious, long-suffering Ice is gentle and totally smitten; this is comfort food in text form.

'cause the cat's the only cat (who knows where it's at) (Teen) “So you mean to tell me,” Ice says, “that my alien cat is having alien kittens?”

I love Boa's Top Gun/MCU crossovers. I think they're incredibly well done, they are respectful to both canons, and they're innovative and clever. I like the Captain Marvel series the best, I think, and while I reread a lot of those stories, this one has to be my favorite. Chewie the Flerken has kittens, and it totally ruins everyone's life until it doesn't. Sweet, sooooooo funny, unexpectedly warm.

it's centrifugal motion, it's perpetual bliss (Mature) Kiss prompts from Tumblr.

There was a fic meme of kiss prompts going around a couple years ago, and this isn't so much one, unified fic as it is 10 vignettes of important kisses. They range from sweet to passionate to bittersweet, and they show the best of Iceman and Maverick together as a couple. I love, love, love these little peeks into the like Ice and Mav built together.

by @susiecarter :

I'm going to be honest with you: In 2020, @susiecarter wrote me a story for Id Pro Quo, which is an annual ficswap in which you request a pairing and up to 20 freeform tags that are meant to satisfy your id. These are guilty pleasure, don't judge me I'm having an amazing time right now stories, and she absolutely blew my damn mind, and then she did it twice more. So, yes, these stories were all written with my exact specifications in mind, but that doesn't mean they aren't all fucking amazing, because they are. As a writer, @susiecarter is so pithy and sharp and very, very well-balanced, and her prose is visceral and tangible and, occasionally, unexpectedly tender and lyrical. All three of these stories are blistering hot with perfect characterization, great sex that does not shy away from honest emotion and real intimacy, and her use of plane metaphors is spot on without ever being cliche or cheesy.

fire in the sky tonight (Explicit) Graduation from TOPGUN was one thing. It was great, no question, but it was just the warm-up. You hadn't made it, really made it, until you got hitched.

This is a canon-compliant (mostly) arranged marriage fic in which Iceman and Maverick consummate their nuptials just a couple hours after the dogfight for the Layton. It is stupid hot. Maverick is nervous and a virgin but still not wanting to give Iceman an inch, and Ice is cool and deadly, smolderingly competent, and he takes care of Maverick while also taking him the fuck apart. Plus, maybe they actually love each other? So good.

A Shared Cup (Mature) It was only a training exercise. It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

Ice and Maverick fuck up and end up telepathically linked. DEEP deep. Then what happens is they end up learning each other from the inside out, and while the brass is trying to figure out how the hell to fix this MASSIVE error, Maverick is just trying to hide from Ice that maybe his feelings on the matter, and his feelings about Ice, have changed. This is a gorgeous study of both characters, and the payoff at the end is totally earned.

and gamble for the sun (Mature) It's like this: Maverick and the Iceman make bets, sometimes.

This story is kind of like sitting in a pot of water. First everything is still, and you're just floating there, and then you notice that the water is beginning to warm up, and before you know it, it's boiling around you, and you might burn up and you might drown and it doesn't really matter which one. For me, more than anything, the small details in this story are incredibly sexy and incredibly intimate, and the ending is surprising but perfect and handled perfectly, and it's just gorgeous, the prose and the heat and the emotions, how they're all there and all balanced so perfectly. It's a killer.

by chemm80:

What You Don't Know (Explicit) Maverick finds Iceman handcuffed to his bed. He has a hard time getting over it.

ME TOO. I first read this fic when it came out 10 years ago, and it's still one I go back to. Maverick and Ice are still really figuring out how to be around each other as just colleagues and friends when Maverick sees something he was never meant to see, and it sends him into a tailspin. Things get complicated, and it's handled beautifully, with Maverick especially pushing through the quagmire of his emotions to get to the truth, and Ice vulnerable in more ways than one. Plus, hot. Did I mention it's really hot?

by DeeEffGee

Drugs (Teen) “Ice, you have to take the pain meds. Every six hours-”

Maverick is stuck doctoring Ice, and Ice hates it for a different reason than Maverick first imagined. Maverick and Ice are both sharp together here, the push-and-push-back kind of banter and dares as in the film, until they both surprise themselves, and then ... they are, like, 25% nicer.

by Pink_and_Velvet

You took a fall, then you landed soft. (Teen) Iceman comes up with a game, to prevent Maverick’s downward spiral and also, get him naked.

Ice doesn't like seeing Maverick torture himself, so he does something about it. A nice study of both characters in the wake of Goose's death, and also games that involve forfeiting clothing are always a good thing.

The Prom King (Teen) A high school AU in which Iceman and Maverick are seniors with prom around the corner, and some unresolved feelings to deal with.

This is a really cute first time fic where Ice is one of the cool kids and Maverick isn't quite sure what to do with him. (But he figures it out.) Like a teen romcom, but Icemav.

by @genderfluidsodapopcurtis :

A Kiss on the Inside of the Wrist (General) There are parts of Ice’s body that Maverick only ever sees from up close.

This one is short, but very sweet. I love lazy, sleepy Icemav.

by @victimofthemusic :

Bri excels at writing extremely sexy fic that also completely expresses how stupid in love the characters are for each other. Her characterization is sharp and distinctive, and she has no problem bouncing from completely lovesick to desperately horny to lightly teasing in the same page. She's also writing a lot for Top Gun: Maverick and its new characters, so if you're interested in that, take a look at her AO3 profile.

you're trying hard not to show it, but baby i know it (Teen) Ice wants to know who Maverick was before he became Maverick. He wants to know Pete Mitchell, too, because they’re two parts of the same whole and Ice wants to love that part, too. Because Pete Mitchell was worth loving just as much Maverick Mitchell was worth loving. And God, does Ice love him.

This is beautiful characterization of both Ice and Maverick, and it's sweet and sexy and heartbreaking and hopeful all at once. Beautiful, fulfilling, so satisfying.

the further on the edge, the hotter the intensity (Explicit) Five times Maverick and Ice have sex in places they totally weren't planning to.

This is so, so sexy, but more than that, it's a beautiful picture of Maverick and Ice's love story. The sex is scorching, but it's definitely not just sex. There's always an exploration of the emotional component of their relationship, even when Ice is getting fucked over Maverick's desk, and the relationship progresses in a way that will twist your heart but ultimately leave you feeling soft and warm.

by weshes:

Fire or Clear (Mature) It takes Ice and Maverick about ten years and a divorce to figure it out, but eventually they do.

This story has so much packed into it. The characterization is so sharp, and the way Ice and Maverick interact and move around each other after knowing each other for so long is comfortable, familiar, but with an undercurrent of simmering heat building to a boil. The sex is hot, and the dialogue is fantastic, all around well done.

by @guiltyfandomtrashwonderland :

She was made in a lab to destroy me. Nat writes some of the most in-depth, well-researched, layered fanfiction I've ever read. She sees the characters differently than I do, but it's in a way that intrigues me, and I love the way she writes them individually and as a couple. Her stories are so funny and so much fun without sacrificing emotion and vulnerability and the difficult realities the characters sometimes face.

A Chance Engagement (Explicit) In which Maverick sells ass, Ice buys some, and both of them end up with far more than they bargained for.

I cannot tell you how deeply, deeply satisfying it is to read BDSM written by people who actually know what they're talking about. This story, which takes place during the TOPGUN contest that is the focus of the first film, is funny and sexy and complex. It is at turns euphoric and hilarious and tense and devastating. It's a beautiful look at how Iceman and Maverick come together in this universe, and it's satisfying on so many levels.

Stormclouds in a Pale Sky (Explicit) Thirty years later, some people still didn’t get it.

This is a sequel to A Chance Engagement set in the TGM timeline. Thirty years later, Ice and Maverick are still together, still stupid in love, and still sharing a thriving, if slightly unconventional, sex life. This is sexy and fun and less painful, emotionally, than the first story, but it's got deep, true, long-term love and some bittersweet moments reflecting on growing older and the things it changes and the things it takes away ... and the things it can never change. Gorgeous.

[ageless-soul-au]

HIHIHI OKAY. i absolutely love flicker. do you accept fanart (might be a silly question but im 16 and want to make sure before i actually draw/send in anything. im here for my boy /lighthearted)

but besides that. ive never seen anyone else actually hc that downfall hero of time DIED AS A KID and i am SO GLAD other people feel the same. like dont get me wrong everyone has their own opinions and none are wrong but. I LOVE FLICKER. i love that the gods didnt quite catch him in time to put him to sleep and he took the sword to ganon and held his own until beast ganon. it makes me do a little happy wiggle.

he was not a "valiant, noble man, tragically lost to evil" he was a misguided child told the world rested on his shoulders and because of that, he was killed. and i LOVE that kind of tragedy

so. flicker supremacy, thank you very much.

Hi hello!!!! Omg you had so many great points, thank you for the enthusiasm!!

Mostly for the 18+ warning, we're trying to keep minors away from the main fics bc there are heavy, potentially triggering topics and NSFW-ish things there. As long as you have your community labels set up right on the blog tho, it should be safe to browse/interact with (though main blogs are different, Kio's is strictly 18+). I'm not your dad etc etc, practice caution online, we really only ask that minors don't read the fic or view the NSFW. We'll still probably be writing ASAU by the time you turn 18 tho so maybe see u on ao3 then?? XD

TLDR, it's up to you if you wanna make art of the lil guy. We appreciate everything that comes our way!

The decision to keep Flicker 9 years old came from a discussion on why the hero failed in the downfall timeline. Bc if things progressed like they had in OoT, then Link would have still won! So what needed to change in order for him not to win? It wasn't bc the player just went out to play basketball instead of beating the game /ref

The sages put Link to sleep bc he wasn't ready to wield the sword. But nothing changed except his size. He was in a 17 year old's body, but his mind hadn't matured any. Somehow he was able to pull it off tho, and everything turned out fine (or... It depends on your definition of fine).

So the sword didn't put Flicker to sleep. He didn't get stronger. And he's a tough kid, but that only goes so far. He also rushed to get to the final boss, which Time didn't do, so Flicker got there underprepared in his haste. He died, then the goddesses went "oh shit, that shouldn't have happened!!" and reset the timeline. And as we know, a reset doesn't mean that the original timeline goes away, now there's just two versions of the story.

Poor lil guy... His Zelda (Aria) and the sages managed to pull it together, but the timeline was still pretty fucked. I can't wait for when we get to what happened to it in the fics, but that won't be for a while. Flicker is still out there tho... In the forest... Doing his little guy things....

Thank u for ur interest! Maybe we'll have gotten to Flicker's point in the story by the time you're 18 hchdhdj

-Kio & Mizu

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 15 - Don't You Want Me

IN THIS CHAPTER: Illicit library naps, a sleepover, and Important Questions get asked [7.3k]

WARNINGS: fear of coming out (lighthearted, everything turns out okay), self doubt, bisexuality? idk if that's a warning but if you haven't noticed yet, eddie and dot are both bi lol

A/N: happy pride friends! i swear to god i didn't plan for this chapter to be out and proud in june, i set the outline in stone months ago but i'm taking it as a happy accident. sorry for posting a day late, yesterday was Not Great but we should get back to friday updates this coming week. enjoy <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You know I can't believe it When I hear that you won't see me

Monday, May 12th - 1986

The rainy spell that haunted Hawkins at all times continued throughout most of the Monday, up until lunch time when it finally relented. The sky was still mostly dark with heavy clouds hiding the sun while the Hellfire seniors stood just outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for Eddie to be done with the conversation he was about to engage in so they could head to their next classes. All four of them - Dottie, Gareth, Donny, and Jeff - were staring pointedly at him as he approached the cheerleaders’ table.

“Got the goods, Cunningham?” Eddie raised his voice to call Chrissy’s attention.

“Yup! Got ‘em right here!” she said, smiling brightly and reaching into her pocket to grab the remaining prom tickets she’d promised to save for him. He gave her the money and she accepted it gracefully, but when he leaned forward to grab the tickets, she snapped her hand back, lifting it over her head. “You better suit up, Munson, or I’ll personally block your way in.”

“We’ll dress up, I promise,” he said, crossing his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a Scout, Eddie.”

“You don’t know what I get up to in my free time,” he snatched the tickets from her hand and began walking backwards quickly towards the doors. “See you around, Chris! Have a good day, ladies!”

Not a beat had passed since he’d walked away before Chrissy’s friends surrounded her, gossiping loudly about the situation they’d just witnessed. The Freak talking to their Captain? Who did he think he was?

“Ugh, he’s so… scruffy! Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Libby, a junior tumbler said, crossing her arms and burrowing further into her cheer cardigan.

“What do you mean? He was perfectly polite,” Chrissy defended him. “He just wanted to buy some prom tickets.”

“He shouldn’t be talking to you anyway, you aren’t in charge of selling them,” Melissa, a senior flyer and Chrissy’s second in command, scoffed. “I bet he’s not even gonna go, he probably just wanted an excuse to be near you. God, he’s such a freak.”

“I’m on the Prom Planning Committee, it’s more than okay if people ask me about tickets. And don’t call Eddie a freak anymore. It’s not right,” Chrissy said, stomping away to her next class.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Libby turned to look at her senior.

“I don’t know but she thinks she’s hot shit since that Ohio State cheer clinic she went to during Spring Break. I don’t like it,” the flyer replied, but Chrissy never heard her, already busy getting her books out of her locker.

Eddie was pulling out of his driveway to take Dottie home after their usual after school study session when she asked him to drop her off at Gareth’s instead. She mentioned they were having a sleepover at his house so they could work on a Chemistry project that had to be delivered during first period on Tuesday, and that didn’t do anything to calm the little knot Eddie was beginning to recognize as jealousy that formed at the pit of his stomach. The rational part of his brain, the one that knew there was nothing going on between two of his best friends, was at war with the dumb side that wanted to stop the van in the middle of the road and throw a tantrum. He settled on gripping the steering wheel until his fingers hurt when he saw her hug Gareth hello like she hadn’t seen him in years; the younger boy waved at him like Eddie’s heart wasn’t cracking at the slightest hint of being undesirable.

Oblivious to his friend’s feelings, Gareth guided Dottie inside towards his living room where his phone was so she could call her Dad and let him know she'd arrived safely. Once James had been informed of his daughter’s whereabouts, the teens got to work on the coffee table until Gareth’s dad came home from work. Gareth’s mom, Lydia, was a sweet looking woman with bright blue eyes her son had inherited and a big blonde hairdo. She really enjoyed being a hostess, which is why she had gladly slaved herself away in the kitchen all afternoon making a sweet and sour brisket she claimed was her specialty.

"Okay, so we're thinking regular crackers, marshmallows, cereal, toasted bread, untoasted bread, and dry pasta?" Dottie read from their notes.

"We should add something that we know is unhealthy, just to test it out."

"We have marshmallows."

"Yeah, but those are full of air, they'll probably burn really fast. We need something more dense, like… uh…," Gareth thought hard about what they could find in his pantry and still came up with nothing.

"D'you have peanuts? With the shell?"

"Peanuts are unhealthy?"

"I mean, not really, no, but they are, like, high in fat? And I bet the shells burn well."

"Let's do peanuts then," he nodded, jotting it down onto their notebook.

Their last project of the year was free choice, and after perusing a few science magazines in the library, they had settled on building a calorimeter. Truth be told, they should have done it earlier but between Mother’s Day, Hellfire and Dottie spending so much time with Eddie helping him get ready for his exams, Monday night before the project’s due date had to suffice. Gareth had asked his Dad for help to build two calorimeters, which were ready to go on the desk in his bedroom along with the blow-up mattress Dottie would be sleeping on right next to his bed. His Mom had been a little hesitant to let them bunk in the same bedroom, but her son had brought up a good point: his sister, Gretchen, would positively lose her mind if a stranger slept in her bed, so Gareth’s floor was a good compromise as long as they left the door wide open.

When Gareth’s dad, Gavriel, arrived home from a long day at work, dinner was almost ready to be served. Gareth was in the middle of an animated rant, explaining to Dottie about a very special part of their meal he had begged his Mom for to mark the special occasion. He had never really had a sleepover before, and even though they’d be up late into the night working on their project, he was still very excited at the prospect of hanging out with someone he considered one of his closest friends with no time constraints or adult supervision.

“You said you’ve never really tried Jewish food before, so I asked my Mom to make these for you,” Gareth explained, carrying a big plate to the dining table where they usually sat to do homework on Wednesdays, Dottie trailing behind him carrying cutlery and bread.

“They look like hash browns,” she said, peering at the mystery food.

“They are better than hash browns. These are called latkes. My Mom only makes them during Hanukkah, but honestly, I’d eat them every day if I could.”

“Didn’t know you did Hanukkah,” Dottie frowned. “Didn’t you say you went to your Grandparents’ for Christmas last year?”

“Yeah, we do both! And neither, now that I think about it,” he frowned too, like he was just realizing something about his own traditions. “We’re not really religious, I mean… We celebrate, but it’s more about family and getting together. We mix both sides.”

Gavriel was Jewish and Lydia was not, which in turn made their children half-Jewish. This was something Gareth’s friends were aware of, but didn’t entirely understand since they never really talked about what it meant. This, coupled with the fact that the youngest Coleman hadn’t really had close friends until he reached high school and joined Hellfire, led to his now very apparent enthusiasm while showing Dottie everything that made him… well, him. He didn’t consider himself spiritual in the broad sense of the word, but being Jewish was one of the only things he had always known about himself, the part of his identity that no matter what happened would always be his and he was proud of who he was.

Dottie sat at the dinner table with Gareth and his parents to share a lovely meal together and wondered for the millionth time in her life what it would be like to have siblings. She knew her friend and Gretchen, his older sister, hardly saw eye to eye: she was outgoing, sporty, had a lot of friends and a loving boyfriend, and Gareth was nerdy, shy, and obsessed with horror movies to a degree people that didn’t know him too well found off putting. Despite these differences though, it was clear from the way Gareth spoke about his sister that he would gladly walk through literal fire for her, even though he was the first one to chew her out every time she came home and left enough hair to make a wig on their shower wall. He put two latkes on Dottie’s plate, one with applesauce on top, the other one with sour cream and waited for her verdict, big blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Which one’s your fave?” Dottie asked him, holding the one with sour cream like Lydia was doing across from her.

“I’m not gonna tell you, you can’t be biased,” Gareth scoffed, fork halfway to his mouth full of decadent meat. “Gotta form your own opinion.”

“I’m gonna try them both, I just wanted to know which one you liked more,” she defended herself before trying a bit without any sauce first, just to get a feel of the texture. “Okay, yeah, I see what you meant now. These are better than hash browns.”

“Told ya,” he grinned. “Now try it with the sour cream.”

“Gareth, don’t be pushy,” Gavriel warned, but there was no need, she was already on her second bite.

Gareth waited with bated breath as she switched to her other latke, this one with applesauce. He watched her chew, her face giving away nothing while she wiped her hand on a napkin. A few moments of silence went by, both Lydia and Gavriel looking at each other with curious eyes, their son’s eyebrows going higher each second that ticked by. He had never been particularly patient, and Dottie was making him sweat for her review.

“So?” he asked, leaning towards her. “Which one’s better?”

“Are you gonna throw me out if I don’t agree with you?”

“Dot.”

“Sour cream’s better,” she said, and he groaned loudly. “It’s not that applesauce is bad, I just liked the other one more! The chives in the cream make it feel special. Thank you for making these for us, Mrs. Coleman, they are great.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me, sweetie!” said Lydia, beaming at the praise. “I like them with chives better too.”

“You are both so wrong,” Gareth said, looking at his father for support. “Tell them they’re wrong, Dad.”

“I like them with both sauces,” Gavriel declared before kissing Lydia’s cheek. “Your mother is a great cook, just eat and be grateful.”

“Ugh. Got no allies in this house.”

“Finish your dinner, Gare, it’s getting cold,” Lydia said, knowing better than anyone else how dramatic her son could be.

As the dinner progressed and his parents chatted with Dottie, eager to know more about her, Gareth couldn’t help but notice just how different it was to have a female best friend than to only have multiple sweaty metalheads around all the time. He loved Jeff, Donny, and Eddie, and he was pretty confident that he would go to war for them if they ever needed him to, but there was a soft quality to his friendship with Dot he had never really experienced before, not even with his sister. He felt less pressure to be traditionally boyish, could have longer, deeper talks and not have to worry about anyone making fun of his feelings when they overwhelmed or confused him. And truthfully, it wasn’t that he couldn’t be 100% himself with the boys, but having a girl in their tight-knit group had meant they were now a lot more careful about how they approached certain topics, or how they behaved in general.

No more farting around in each other’s faces when they got into the van or pausing to stare at boobs during Fast Times at Ridgemont High - they were much more in tune with each other now, noticing the little things they would have easily disregarded before, like Jeff’s apprehension towards the big brother he had once looked up to and tried to emulate, or Donny’s budding excitement at the thought of joining his family’s business after graduation. Or perhaps it hadn’t been Dottie at all who had changed the dynamic of their group, and they had simply, well, grown up. Graduation was just a month away, after all.

After dinner, Gareth’s parents retreated to their living room to relax after a long day while the teens gathered their supplies and slipped outside to the garage to do the practical portion of their project. Gavriel had spent a couple of hours on Saturday helping his son build all the necessary parts for two homemade bomb calorimeters; mainly they had just drilled holes into cans and hoped things would fit in once assembled. Once everything was in place, they got to work with the ease of two people who had been lab partners for a while and knew exactly what their tasks were: Dottie was in charge of the charts and Gareth of the equations. They were both equally excited about the burning though.

“God, this smells like a s’more,” he groaned, the barely there fire under their can of water consuming a marshmallow.

“I don’t like s’mores,” she said, jotting something down on their chart.

“You are so weird.”

They were both sitting in the driveway in front of the garage, the pavement under their jeans a little bit chilly from the day’s overcast sky. They had already burned the bread (toasted and untoasted), cereal, and dry pasta, and were now moving onto the remaining foods, the sickly sweet marshmallow scent mixing with the smoke in the night air.

“So…,” Gareth began, measuring the temperature of the water in the can.

“So?”

“Heard Eddie got you a ticket for prom.”

“Yeah,” she said, nonchalantly. “We got into an argument last week and he wanted to make it up to me.”

“Are you two going together now?”

“No, we’re still going as a group. He just did something nice for me.”

“Sure,” he smirked. “Something nice. Absolutely not strange at all.”

“Just spit it out, G, what do you actually want to ask?” Dottie turned to him with a tired expression.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” she said, a little bit too defensively, which made him lift an eyebrow in response. “Nothing is going on, I promise. We’re just friends.”

“Dot, come on,” he shook his head, big curls swaying back and forth. “Are you seriously telling me that you two aren’t swapping spit during your dates? He bought you a prom ticket, he takes you to dinner all the time, he might as well have fucking tattooed your name on his left tit.”

“Okay, first of all, ew. Swapping spit, really? God have mercy on however kisses you,” she ducked to avoid a marshmallow to her head. “Second, we don’t go on dates. We get together to study and sometimes we eat together, that’s it. Nothing inappropriate has ever happened, so knock it off, okay?”

Gareth saw her jaw clench and decided to drop the subject entirely, switching topics to their current assignment and the different smells certain charred food reminded him of. They completed their work quickly and efficiently, packing up for the night before retreating to the safety of his bedroom. He offered her his shower and Dottie accepted it gladly, desperate for a few minutes alone to clear her head. He fished out clean towels from the hallway storage cupboard, and sent her on her merry way to the Jack and Jill he shared with his sister, wondering if maybe he’d mistaken the signals he’d gotten from watching two of his best friends interact with each other.

Dottie was spiraling. There was no other way to describe what she was doing while staring at the big bottle of hair conditioner in Gareth and Gretchen’s shared bathroom. The water was scalding, leaving her skin pink and her fingers pruny but she didn’t attempt to move from under the stream for several seconds. Had she really been that obvious? Could people tell that she liked Eddie? Could he tell? What if he didn’t know, but found out and was disgusted about it? She’d shared so much of her past lately, what if he used it as a weapon to hurt her? Oh, but Eddie wasn’t like that. He could be mean when he wanted to, but never to his friends, or at least not intentionally. He could be harsh sometimes, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. And besides, he’d offered up his life story to her too so that meant he trusted her. But what if he started hating her? What if he hated that he’d confided in her while she was secretly harboring this big ass crush that seemed to grow every day and left her breathless every time their hands touched? What if -

“Dot? You okay in there?” Gareth’s voice cut straight through the madness swirling inside her head.

“Y-yeah! I’ll be out in a sec!”

“Okay! You want egg cream?”

“What?” she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a fluffy baby pink towel, padding closer to the door.

“Egg cream, it’s like an ice cream float but with no ice cream. Like foamy chocolate milk. You wanna try it?”

“Uh, okay. Sure!”

She could hear him walking away towards the kitchen, socks cushioning his steps, and quickly changed into her pajamas trying to come back down to the present. Gareth had always been incredibly nice to her, and she considered themselves to be pretty close. She thought of all the boys as her best friends, but Gareth and her had immediately clicked in a way that was different than with the rest of them. Jeff was very much an equal, a calming presence, the friend she turned to when she was nervous and needed advice, and he sought her out for comfort as well, their relationship shaped around a sort of gentle give and take. On the other hand, Donny was the big brother she’d never had, guiding her in D&D when she felt particularly lost, sharing music with her, and helping her become more confident in her own skin. She’d return his affections with endless enthusiasm and curiosity, their friendship based on mutual admiration and genuine fondness. And Gareth… Gareth was the rambunctious twin she’d always dreamed of. They bickered incessantly, she’d steal his sweatshirts and then let him copy off her homework, and he’d threaten to burp in her face only to then steer her away from bullies in the hallways. Out of all their friends, he was the most likely to give her his real opinion on something without filtering it, and that’s why when she hung up the towel to dry, she decided he deserved to know the truth.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from the glass he was pouring chocolate syrup into. “You can have that one, I didn’t make you a big one in case you didn’t like it.”

“Thanks,” Dottie smiled lightly, and he smiled back. “What did you say this was called? Creamed egg?”

“Egg cream,” Gareth snorted. “It’s chocolate milk, but with seltzer. It sounds crazy but it’s really good, I promise.”

Dottie took a small sip and scrunched her face instantly making him laugh. With a confused expression, she went in for a second sip, and then a third one. She wiped the foam from her upper lip and set the cup down.

“It’s not gross, but it’s not good either.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird, right? That’s why I like it. It’s better with Fox’s U-Bet, but I only have Hershey’s,” he said, before taking a big gulp and downing half his glass in one go. “Ready for bed?”

“Can we take down your Freddy Krueger poster? It gives me the creeps.”

“You’re such a baby,” he teased her, but he was already on his way to his bedroom to unpin it from his wall.

They settled in for the night after brushing their teeth while sharing the sink, playfully bumping each other with their elbows for more space. Gareth not only took his Freddy Krueger poster down, but also his Night of the Living Dead and The Evil Dead posters while Dottie fluffed her pillow, the air mattress bouncing softly every time she moved. They lay in the dark for a few minutes, moonlight barely giving shape to the bumps in the bedroom before she turned to him.

"G?" Dottie whispered, not wanting to wake him up if he'd already fallen asleep.

"Yeah?"

"If I tell you a secret, you promise not to tell anyone? Not even the guys?"

"Of course," the sheets shifted against his legs as he rolled onto his side and she saw his hand extend until it was right next to her. "Pinky swear."

She lifted her own hand up and linked pinkies with him, shaking on it once. He stayed on his side, squinting in the darkness to see her profile but she never spoke. He thought she'd maybe dozed off, but the blow-up mattress began crackling when she turned on her side to look at him. A car sped down the street illuminating the room and both teens stared at each other until the lights dimmed again. Gareth could tell, if only for a brief moment, that she was terrified of what was stuck in her throat.

"Do you… do you wanna, like, come up here?" he asked, thinking of how he used to climb into his sister's bed when he had nightmares as a kid. Gretchen would always protest against it, but when he woke up in her arms after the sun had gone up, he knew she didn't really mind that much.

"Yeah. Yes, thank you. Just for a bit, though."

"Just for a bit," he repeated, moving back towards the wall and leaving space for her to crawl under his covers.

They lay on their sides sharing a pillow, their heads so close they could have smelled each others’ minty breaths if they just inched forward a bit more. By all means, the situation should have been extremely weird, but it wasn't. There was no rush, no expectations, just two friends waiting until one of them was brave enough to spill some truth into the midnight. Only mild nervousness at the conversation that was about to unfold could be found on Gareth's bed at that moment.

"I think I like Eddie," Dottie said, breaking the silence and bracing for an impact that never came.

"You think you like Eddie?"

"I… no. No, I know I like him. I like Eddie."

"Okay. And he doesn't know?"

"I haven't told him, so I hope not."

"And you don't know if he likes you back?"

"I was kinda hoping you'd help me out on that."

"Well," Gareth began. "Not sure I can. I've known him for years and he just doesn't talk about that stuff with us. Not since Polly Sue at least."

"Polly Sue?"

"This girl he liked back when we first met him. They were in junior year, I think they sat together in class. He asked her to prom and she laughed at him in front of everyone," he explained. "It was really bad. Her friends made fun of him for like a whole week."

"That's horrible."

"He never talked about girls again after that. I know he's kissed some after gigs but it hasn't happened in months."

"Maybe he found someone he likes?" she said, chest seizing at the thought.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. He's literally spending all his free time with you, so you must be doing something right. I bet he likes you too, but he’s too awkward to say it."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Yeah! Come on, he'd be a dumbass if he didn't like you back. You're great!"

"You have to say that, you're my best friend," she nudged his leg with hers.

"As your best friend I have to also tell you that you're a freak for not liking latkes with applesauce."

"You're the freak, you sleep with socks on."

Both teens giggled at the absurdity of their fight, Gareth swinging a leg over her hip while she gave him a hug with her left arm only, the right one tucked under her head. He hugged her back, also with one arm, his chin barely touching her forehead.

"You know, if you really want to know, you could just ask him," he suggested.

"I can't walk up to him and go "hey Eddie! Do you like me? Oh, why am I asking you say? Don't worry about it, just curious!". Like, I'd literally rather fucking fall into the quarry."

"I'm not saying you should ask him like that, smartass. You could just ask him if he likes anyone, it’s a friendly question."

"And if he says he does and it's not me?"

"Then you know and you can move on. But honestly, I don't think you should worry. He got you a ticket for prom, he's getting all his grades up for you. I think you're good. Just, keep going like that, y'know? Show him what he’s getting with you if he grows some balls."

"You're really smart sometimes, you know that?" she teased, but her voice was full of fondness.

"Eh, I have my moments," he grinned.

They chatted for another hour, gossiping about things they'd heard in the hallways and making plans for the summer after graduation, the places they wanted to see, the food they wanted to try, the people they wanted to meet. Dottie slipped back into her mattress when the yawns became frequent, sheets cold but heart warm with the knowledge that if everything failed, she'd always could count on Gareth to be her best cheerleader.

Tuesday, May 13th - 1986

If Eddie thought dropping Dottie off at Gareth’s the previous night was bad for his blood pressure, he had no way of preparing himself for the absolute shock it was to see them hanging onto each other near Jeff’s locker where all his friends were congregating before their third period. Gareth was barely awake, clinging to Dottie to keep himself upright despite his head lolling onto hers every few seconds. Dottie looked equally sleepy but seemed to be less in danger of falling to the floor, shoulder tucked under his armpit and locking her body in place. All of that would have been enough to give Eddie a heart attack, but the fact that she was wearing Gareth’s oversized Van Halen sweatshirt tucked into her overalls had his brain firing in wild directions.

"Hey, man," Donny said, standing next to Jeff.

"Hey. You two good?" he asked the tired duo.

"Hi, Ed," Dottie smiled at him sleepily, and Eddie felt his insides turn to mush. "We got an A+."

"First A+ I've gotten since middle school," Gareth muttered, eyes closed but with a satisfied grin on his lips.

"Probably the last one too," Jeff teased, making the curly haired boy blindly lunge at him.

The sudden movement dislodged Dottie’s comfy stand, making her wobble against Eddie's side, left hand coming up to clutch the front of his shirt softly. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders to help stabilize her, but truth be told, he just wanted to hold her and it seemed like a good enough excuse. She didn’t seem to mind, letting herself relax into his soft embrace.

"Sorry," she said, stifling a yawn. "We stayed up really late last night, I'm exhausted."

"I can see that. You wanna skip Calc and take a nap in my van?"

"We can't skip Calc, finals are in a couple of weeks."

"Princess, you're dead on your feet right now."

"We aren't skipping Calc," she said firmly. "I'll nap in the library during fourth."

"Okay," he chuckled. "I'll wake you up for lunch."

Eddie didn't have the heart to wake her up after she fell asleep. Once fourth period started and they were free to study wherever they wanted, he dragged her towards a dark-ish corner at the back of the library and worked on his drawing portfolio quietly while she snoozed on the carpeted floor, her head resting on his lap. She slept straight through fourth period and lunch, and he made no attempts to rouse her from her slumber before the bell rang signaling the start of the last period and the end to their shared classes for the day. He walked her to her Home Economics classroom where Donny was waiting to fully wake her up with a bone-crunching hug, and hurried towards the Biology class he shared with Jeff who asked about their absence at the lunch table with a worried expression.

By the time they all reconvened in the parking lot at the end of the day, she was looking much more alive and he was hungry as hell. They didn’t stop to get snacks as they so often did, choosing instead to share Dottie’s BLT and chips she’d packed for lunch and the brownies she’d made during Home Ec on their drive to the trailer. She didn’t even wipe his tepid bottle of water before taking her own sip, and he hung onto that detail for far longer than he should have. Who could care about her wearing Gareth’s clothes when she lifted a bit of sandwich to his mouth while his hands were busy switching gears and pulling into a turn?

Wayne, as always, was happy to see her and gave her a big hug when they walked into the trailer. Dottie offered the last piece of brownie to him and Eddie could have sworn the old man thought about bringing out adoption papers right there and then. He left them to chat while he rearranged the mess in his bedroom and then the two teens retreated to the dry comfort of his bed, looming clouds threatening to rain again after it had drizzled all morning. Nobody had told Dottie the midwest was this goddamn rainy before she’d made the big move, but she’d much preferred it to how hot she knew summer was going to get as the days went by. She finished her homework for the day quickly and Eddie let her wander around his room while he steadily worked on his, Biology textbook open next to his knee.

When he was on his last question, he noticed she seemed to be bouncing with energy, keeping herself busy by rearranging his tape collection again. He snapped his textbook shut with enough force for her to jolt her head up, and as soon as he’d cleared his bed from any stray papers, she jumped on it, kneeling in front of his crossed legs with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Okay, spill. You look like Gareth when he overhears something juicy in the hallway,” Eddie said, leaning back onto the wall behind his bed and crossing his arms.

“Speaking of Gareth,” she began, and Eddie waited patiently. “We were talking about prom last night, and, well, it doesn’t really matter, but I was just wondering if you… because we’re all going together as a group, right? But you got me my ticket and I didn’t want things to be awkward if you did so I thought-”

“Princess, I’m so lost right now.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said sheepishly. She took a deep breath while she rearranged her legs to sit criss-cross in front of him. “I was just wondering if there was someone you liked, you know? At school? Because you got me my ticket and I’m really grateful, but I don’t want to ruin things for you if you want to get a date or something.”

“Did Gareth tell you I liked someone?” he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“No! No, I asked him about- I can pay you back if you want,” she wrung her hands on her lap.

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he said, sitting up. “I don’t… there isn’t anyone I want to take to prom. I want to go with you. And, y’know, the guys. Hellfire Class of ‘86 and all that, right?”

“Yeah, no, I just thought…,” she chewed on her lower lip, not knowing where to take the conversation. “It’s okay if you wanna go with someone else.”

“Do you want to go with someone else?” Eddie asked, wary.

“I wanna go with you,” she said, and looked up at him suddenly. “Hellfire Class of ‘86, l-like you said.”

“Okay,” he said, untangling her wrung fingers and pulling one hand into his. “Good. Nothing’s changing then. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Good.”

Eddie pulled her by her hand until she fell forward into him, legs tangled on top of his blanket and arms around hers. Where were these questions coming from? Had Gareth mentioned something to make her doubt that he wanted nothing more than to take her to prom? He couldn’t wait until the moment he got to sit next to her in his van with her fancy dress on and a love stricken smile on his face. Dottie settled comfortably on his chest, the side of her nose pressed to his sternum, cheek squished against the soft cotton of his shirt. He wondered if she felt it too, that inexplicable pull between them, that overwhelming need to be close, to feel the heat coming off from each other’s skin.

One time very early into their friendship, Mike had mentioned that it was strange how touchy they both were with one another considering they hadn’t known each other for long. Eddie was someone who never hesitated to pull a friend into his arms, always play fighting with the boys, not entirely understanding what the phrase “personal space” meant. He was loud and boisterous, and he was equally showy in his affections regardless who was on the receiving end: Eddie Munson didn’t half ass anything - anything that mattered to him, anyways. Dottie on the other hand was much more reserved, but still didn’t shy away from physical contact. She was always letting her head fall into someone’s shoulder, consistently linking her arm with her friends’ while they walked through hallways, giving everyone strawberry chapstick kisses on their cheeks as a goodbye. But even after Dustin had pointed all of this out to Mike and everyone had agreed with his assessment and dropped the subject, Eddie had never stopped thinking about it.

In more recent times, he’d begun hoping that maybe all the work he was putting in was actually coming to fruition. He still had a long way to go in his eyes, but he couldn’t complain about the fact that he was currently holding the girl he was secretly in love with while laying on his bed, in the room she had helped clean, with his tummy full of the food she’d prepared. Would it really be too much of a sin to push things further a little bit? To start figuring out where he stood compared to everyone else in her life?

“What about you?” Eddie asked, hand coming up to brush her broken curls out of her face.

“Hm?”

“Do you like someone at school?”

“Not really, no,” she muttered, and he could feel her heart rate pick up under his own chest.

“What about Gareth?”

“Ew,” she said instantly, making him snort. “I love him, but I don’t like him like that. He’s like… Like an annoying brother. Did you know he snores?”

“Be glad all he did was snore. I’ve heard him fart in his sleep and it’s not pretty,” she chuckled. “Be honest now though,” he paused dramatically. “Do I snore?”

“You don’t snore,” she lifted her head, chin hovering where her cheek had been. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Thought we were gonna get kicked out of the library today, it was like an earthquake,” he said, making her gasp and slap his side. “No, you don’t snore, darling. You slept like a baby.”

“What about you though?”

“Do I sleep like a baby?”

“No - Do you like someone?”

“Not really,” now it was his turn for his heart rate to pick up. He hoped she couldn’t feel it under her hands that were now between her chin and his chest.

“What about Chrissy?”

“What about her?” he was confused.

“Dunno. The guys said you weren’t friends until recently and I just wondered. She’s pretty.”

“I suppose so, yeah,” Eddie thought about Chrissy for a bit. He did think she was pretty, but in the same way he thought a sunset was pretty. Nice to look at, pleasant to be around, but not particularly breathtaking. Not to him at least. He hoped Jason Carver thought Chrissy was as stunning as the way he thought Dottie with her wild hair lying on top of him right now was. She deserved that kind of adoration. “I don’t really see her that way. She’s a good friend, though. I told her she should talk to you, I think you’d get along.”

“Why?”

“Why I think you’d get along?” he asked for confirmation, Dottie nodded. Because I’m in love with you and she’s gonna be my maid of honor slash best woman slash whatever that shit’s called at our wedding. “You’re in World History together, right? You’re both sweet, and kind, and caring. And you both like Elton John. And Queen!”

“Everyone likes Queen.”

“Yeah, but not everyone has their records. I don’t. You could talk about that with her, she owns all of them. She says her Dad always gets a new one for her when he’s on a work trip.”

“You really are good friends with her, huh?”

“Like you and Gareth,” he said, wanting to make it clear his eyes were not wandering. He didn’t need Dottie thinking he wasn’t interested in her. “Well, maybe without the sleepovers.”

“Isn’t it dumb though?” Dottie said, furrowing her brow in mild irritation. “How people just assume that if you’re friends with someone of the opposite sex you must be into them?”

“I mean, sometimes friends like each other.”

“Sure, yeah, but not all friends do. Like, no one thinks you and Jeff are dating and I’ve seen you two almost kiss sharing a mic. If you did that with Chrissy, people would think there’s something going on.”

“Dot, you know exactly why people think that,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Fuck Reagan, remember?”

Dottie sat up immediately, looking very rigid. He took his time sitting up too, but took it as a win when she grabbed his hand and began playing with his rings. It almost looked like she was preparing herself to drop a bomb on him, and he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t necessary. He knew what she was gonna say before she even opened her mouth, because whatever she looked like right now, was exactly how Eddie looked like a few years back when Wayne found a very special magazine he’d bought in Indy hidden underneath his bed amongst all the other ones he didn’t care to put away properly most of the time.

“Eddie, there’s… there’s something you should-”

“I know,” he said, thumb ghosting along hers. “Me too.”

“You too?” she said, confusion and hope mixing in her eyes. He nodded.

“Darling, you love Rocky Horror. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.”

“I like musicals,” she tried to pull back her hand but he held on.

“You do. But we both know it’s not Rocky and Brad you’re into when you watch it.”

“And,” Dottie swallowed a big lump in her throat before continuing. “-that’s okay with you?”

“Why would I care? It’s not like I watched it for Janet,” he revealed, a knowing smile on his face.

“So you like… boys?” she asked, wanting to turn all the cards on the table upright.

“And girls,” he said, her eyes snapping back to his. “And you like girls?”

“And boys. Like you.”

“Like me.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before she let out an airy laugh, like she had been holding it for a while. Eddie wondered if he was the first person she’d ever told this to. Maybe someday he’d tell her that Wayne wouldn’t care either, and when it happened, she’d tell him that her Auntie Rachel didn’t mind as well, but for now, this shared secret would stay between the four walls of Eddie’s bedroom that no longer smelled like mold or vinegar. It smelled like home.

“Have you…,” Dottie began, not knowing how to ask. He picked up on what she meant instantly.

“Yeah. A couple of times at The Hideout. The guys don’t know though.”

“Do you think they’d have a problem with it?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’m ready to find out yet,” he said honestly. She nodded in agreement. “Have you?”

“Just one time. A kiss at a party. We were playing Truth or Dare.”

“Real steamy,” he joked, and she pushed him lightly.

“I was fifteen, okay? It was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.”

“I bet. I thought I was having a weird trip my first time. Didn’t help that we definitely smoked some strange shit before.”

“I feel silly now,” she admitted. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“Come here.”

He opened his arms and she crawled between his legs, squeezing his middle. He rocked them both side to side for a bit to make her giggle and loosen up. Eddie had a good feeling about where they were headed after this and let himself enjoy it, knowing that the knot in his stomach he’d identified as jealousy had begun unraveling. She didn’t like anyone at school and now she knew that he didn’t either. This was good. Things could grow on fertile ground, and he was doing a damn good job at prepping the soil. It was time, he felt, to turn up the heat.

“Hey,” he said, and she hummed in acknowledgement, not lifting her head from his shoulder. “So, you know my birthday is this week, right? Jeff was telling me today that we could have a movie night in his basement. You game?”

“On Thursday?”

“I was thinking on Friday after Hellfire. And on Thursday you can come over and we can, like, hang out? Wayne said he’s gonna get a cake, and I’d kinda really like to spend the day with you both. Nothing big. We can still do homework and stuff, I mean, I’m only halfway done with my portfolio and-”

“I’d love to come. Count me in, birthday boy.”

“Great. I’ll tell Wayne later.”

Later that night, when Dottie was tucked into her own bed after two long days filled with very interesting conversations, she pondered on Gareth’s words. Show him what he’s getting with you if he grows some balls, he had said. Just before she fell asleep, a sudden thought entered her brain and stuck to the front pushing away everything else. Maybe I am the one that needs to grow some balls.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

[girlreviews]

Review #128: A Night At The Opera, Queen

Growing up in England, Queen and their songs are just part of life. I kind of love thinking about how a tiny little island has so much of its own art, music, and culture, and how when you step away from it you see how quirky and cool it is. Queen and their hits are still on heavy rotation on the radio, get people dancing at parties and big events, and every Millennial has probably seen the We Will Rock You musical 20 times.

So how is it that I had never actually listened to a single Queen album from start to finish? I since learned I am far from alone on this. Most of us haven’t! It makes sense. Everyone has the Greatest Hits album, and that’s what they know.

I was DELIGHTED by A Night At The Opera. Queen in their truest form, the most British sounding record ever. Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon is silly, whimsical, operatic, has a Kinks vibe, and lets you appreciate the harmonizing ooooohs and aaaahs that are signature.

Every song has its own persona and they’re all really different, but you can hear how they informed later Queen — the rhythm in ‘39 reminds me of Fat Bottom Girls. It’s different but it is just a glimpse into future paths of future songs. It’s the kick drum I think. It’s also completely beautiful, folky, gentle and whistful. But like they do, they overlay their melodic solos and the rich backing vocals so you end up with what sounds like Simon & Garfunkel if they got stuck at a pub lock in and forgot they were American.

Guitars and their solos sound like they are singing, answering the vocal melody. They really just weave between lighthearted and snarling serious. There is an entire song that is really big and brash that’s literally a love letter to a car. I really feel that, even though I drive a Prius hatchback. I AM in love with my car, and finally a song exists that acknowledges that love. Okay the song has existed since 1975, but I didn’t know that. I’m a late adopter I guess. In this track Freddie is singing about breaking up with his girlfriend so he can be in love with his car. I’m sort of inspired by the idea that one can be complete with nothing more than the freedom and autonomy of a car. It’s tongue in cheek for sure but that’s what’s beautiful about music — it can mean anything to anyone. I can listen to it sincerely if I want to.

You’re My Best Friend is still so sweet, and musically wonderful. What better way to express love and gratitude to someone than by a song in which you tell someone “you make me live”. I love it. It’s charming. It’s such a simple but deep sentiment.

I can’t help but hear The Kinks in these more whimsical songs, like Seaside Rendezvous, it’s the tinkery piano, the vocal effects, I swear this song actually DOES feature a kazoo or something similar. It’s got big Victorian seaside holiday energy. I can’t imagine that’s not what they were going for. It’s so British. It’s so unique. It’s so much more complicated than you initially hear. There’s so much to unpack in every song.

Okay, so Bohemian Rhapsody came to us via this record. Most of us heard it later when it was re-released and popularized by Wayne’s World in the 90s. Obviously it’s iconic and that’s why my mother and her girlfriends went out one night and on the way home Bohemian Rhapsody came on the radio. They got pulled over and questioned about their sobriety because they were witnessed recreating the scene in the car with Wayne and Garth. They were just rocking out.

I heard Bohemian Rhapsody REALLY young. I have vivid memories of sitting in the backseat hearing it and just being totally moved by it. I realize now it’s mostly because I heard it and understood it to be true and autobiographical. I sat and despaired that Freddie Mercury’s mother killed a man and now he’s gone and thrown it all away. I was so sad. I thought it was all true and happened. I got teary-eyed whenever it came on. I was a very sensitive child, if you couldn’t tell, and it wasn’t unusual for me to be moved to tears by music and words, even when I was tiny. That hasn’t changed much, either. I often wonder or wish that I could experience this song through someone else’s ears. What might they notice that I don’t? How might they feel?

I have a friend that shares my love of just going for a drive for no reason to look around and get lost. We often stick Bohemian Rhapsody on to lift our spirits and snap us out of a funk. It’s all the things and covers all emotions. It’s genuinely a journey, and honestly the entire record leading up to it is a journey too. Literally, like a night out at the opera.

[solesommerso]

╭➸・⊹ Noise 𖤐⋆｡˚⁺

|| poly!20 squad, tan/street centric

𖤐 summary ; sometimes quiet is worse than noise, thankfully Street has Tan there to escape the silence with

𖤐 notes ; @blathannabeaga totally forgot I had a whole draft of autistic street but omg this is so real to me

𖤐 warnings ; sensory issues, autistic!street, established relationship, a lot of talk of Nate, set before Nate dies

-

Street hates nights like this. The quiet ones, where all his partners seem so unbothered by the lack of noise, how they lay on the couch with the tv being the only buzz of anything. They don't get the same itch at the back of their neck like Street does.

It's to be expected when Street thinks about it. They did not grow up in the constant chaos of moving every month or so that Street did. He should rephrase a little, at the beginning he moved every month or so, but once he ran from that one particular foster house he ended up on his own.

Again, he should rephrase, him and Nate ended up on their own, homeless as some would put it. They'd sleep at motels and whatnot but mostly in old abandoned buildings, one warehouse in particular was Streets favorite, Nates too, they spent the most time there. Laying on the cold concrete flooring with a few blankets they snagged from stores when people weren't looking, textbooks and papers laid out in front of them as they tried to stay atop their schoolwork, Nates plethora of old cassettes stacked next to him, Streets bag of random tech to tinker with.

He misses that bag. And that floor, and Nate. He really misses Nate, who Street fought with before he joined swat, before he became part of this relationship, part of him wonders what’s happened for Nate since their fight. But Street doesn’t have to wonder about how Nate would feel this itch. He'd understand.

None of that matters right now, Street’s too busy pacing the kitchen of the house he shares with all his partners. Six of them in one house. Yet it's deafening to be in, the windows open help nothing, not even crickets chirping.

Street was a bit hesitant to move into this house in the first place, of course living with his partners would never be an issue, he was rather excited over that fact, it's just where this house is placed. A long outstretched driveway to give them as much privacy as possible, putting them far from the road, from the noise. Something Street craves deep in his bones, always has really, probably always will.

"Street?" Lucas voice takes him from his thoughts and pacing, he stops mid step; a habit formed back when Street was still living with Karen and Eddie, a way to distract himself of sorts.

"Would you stop pacing, you're stressing me out." The blonde laughs where he resides beside Chris but it still stings deep into Streets chest. He needs to do something, but, if Luca doesn't want them to pace....

"Hey baby, why don't you sit with us? Try to relax a bit?" Reluctantly Street sits beside Hondo, already ten times more uncomfortable, more need for movement and noise settling deeper into Streets bones. It feels like he's vibrating under his skin.

"Why do you look so stressed? What's wrong?" Hondos hand is heavy against Streets shoulder, it makes him squirm a bit, he doesn't want to be held down or stuck in one spot, he hates that feeling.

"It's just really quiet." It's unnerving that nobody else seems to feel the same way as they all furrow their brows to Street.

"We can turn the tv up for you." He subconsciously winces at the prompt, he doesn't like the tv that much, he got use to not watching one when him and Nate were sleeping around the streets.

"Not that type of noise." He needs something natural, real, not the staticky sound the tv produces while it plays some stupid baking show Luca likes.

"What other type of noise is there?" It's paired with a lighthearted chuckle, Street doesn't return it, he can't when he doesn't understand what's funny. There's plenty of other noises that aren't a tv being on? Even a video on his phone makes a different kind of sound.

"Like cars, or a train, or people on the streets, or dogs barking-." Good noise, he goes to say but stop, tv noise is obviously good to his partners so he won't ridicule that.

"So you can't relax because it's not loud enough?"

"Yes." It feels like this has been stated already in the conversation, though Street definitely understands the feeling of needing more clarification; he nods to Luca affirmatively.

"That doesn't make sense." Street furrows his brow slightly, it makes plenty sense.

"But it does." This could lead to an argument, he's keenly aware of this, it's not ideal but it's happened before, Tan says it's because Street has a 'one-track mind' whereas Luca jumps from topic to topic. He's not sure how true that is, Streets mind does jump around sometimes, he's just good at keeping on topic when speaking.

"No it doesn't, how can you need noise to relax? That like- defeats the purpose." Street turns to where Tan and Deacon sit, they're good at helping in these situations, Chris gets too involved of whichever side she agrees with and Hondo always says that his 'leader duties' end when shift does so he stays out of it.

"It's like listening to music to relax, you like the noise of it but you're still relaxed." Tan summarizes much better than Street would've, Victors always been good at that sort of thing Street supposes, he's a mediator of sorts.

"Whatever. We can't really make it more noisy here, sorry Street." He brings up a good point, Streets waiting on noise that won't come, he should just go somewhere he knows there'll be noise.

"Where are you going?" Hondo immediately stops Street with a gentle hand at his wrist, an action he’s become accustomed to and knows is meant with zero malicious intent, even if Street took it the wrong way at first.

"Somewhere louder." Long Beach seems like a far stretch when it's already hitting seven pm, there's a few good abandoned buildings in La, but he'll probably end up at the one by Bucks house he'd sneak off to when visiting the older man as a teenager.

"It's seven pm, the suns setting."

"Yes." The sky's turning that warm orange color it gets before sunset, Streets always liked how it looks, something so calming about watching the sky fade from color to color then finally a dark shade of navy.

"And you're just going to go wherever on your own?" He nods along even when Hondo huffs air through his nose, Street can't tell why, it is just nightfall? Street is trained to fight off whoever might try to mess with him, Hondo knows that, they all do.

"You're going to leave us here alone?" He goes to nod again but Tan motions his head, a tilt to it, trying to convey that nodding is not the correct answer.

"Would...you like to come?" It takes longer than it should for Street to come up with the question, he's usually better at reading into things more, not being so outwardly straightforward with his thinking. He's burnt out he thinks, that might be the word for it, too tired to really put energy into acting like everyone else.

"Yes, of course we do!" It is not 'of course' to Street, they never told him they'd want to come, Luca was just saying it was wrong, why would that be of course?

"Are you sure? You looked content here." It will be more difficult to get to the roof of the abandoned building with the six of them, they can call do it in no time flat, but it's still a lot of bodies to move. And they did look comfortable staying on the couch, as they normally do.

"We stay on the couch all the time, it'll be nice to change things up." Chris says brightly as she stands to go get her coat and shoes, the rest of the members following in her lead, it leaves Street to stand watching them.

He feels slightly nervous over this. He is technically breaking and entering, no matter how old or long the building has been abandoned; the team might be against something that is, well, in simple terms, illegal.

"It'll be okay, they can always go home if they want." Tan comes up to Streets side like he can read into his head.

"Right. Let's go."

-

The car ride is met with endless rambles between Luca and Chris, normal for the pair to do when driving, sat in the very back while Tan and Street occupy the front, Deacon and Hondo stuck in the middle row of the vans seating. Hondo usually drives with Deacon as his passenger, but Street is the only one that knew how to get there, and he wanted to be beside Tan.

"Where are we going?" They all pile out of the car in front of the abandoned building, it's shorter than Street remembers, but there's still all the noise he wants and the view from the roof is as breathtaking as ever.

"Up there." He climbs the chainlink fence easily, not bothering to look back aside from checking that Victors still beside him, which he is of course, moving in sync with Street.

Actually getting to the rooftop isn't hard. Street’s done it a million times, he knows the route of climbing up the brick wall like the back of his hand, placing his feet meticulously on the parts that stick out for leverage, making sure Tan is making it safely. It takes all of ten minutes for them to reach the edge of the roof.

"Do you think they're coming?" James doubts it, the rest of the team is still standing on the other side of the fence, all talking over each other, probably running through the pros and cons of following in Street and Tans lead.

"No. You can go back down with them if you don't like this." He offers but Victor shakes his head instantly, standing on the ledge before jumping to the center of the roof. It reminds Street of Nate, Tan is a lot like Nate at times, but especially right now.

"This is fun, beats sitting on the couch." Tan smiles over to Street as he makes his way to sit by Tans feet, he stands tall overlooking the town down below.

It's a pretty good view for downtown La. People move about, street lamps and store signs lighting up the roads, the sound of people chattering paired with traffic sounds bringing a ease to Streets chest. This is the noise he was looking for. It's familiar, soothing, let's him exhale deeply into the now turning night air, the humidity of the day hasn't died down enough for there to be a chill so it's still comfortable enough for Street to shrug his jacket off.

"I like it up here, you come here a lot?" Tan lays himself down next to Street once he flattens against the roof.

"Yes. A lot when I was younger, me and Nate would spend hours up here." Or buildings similar, anywhere with a roof and view really, all equally as calming.

"You've mentioned Nate before, he's your older brother right?" It's only ever been Victor that Streets shared any stories of Nate with, they almost all involve low grade illegal activities and while the others would never say anything outright, they'd silently judge it.

"Yes. I miss him." For some reason the words are quiet, Street didn't intend to whisper it, he hadn't even thought about his volume, he can't seem to place why he would be so quiet saying it. Of course he misses Nate, he's never doubted that, it's not a secret, yet the words are more of a breath than anything, if Tan wasn't so close he probably wouldn't be able to hear it.

"I'm sorry baby." Victor turns on his side, Street quickly mirrors him so they're facing.

"Yes, it is, is..." The word doesn't come out of his throat, it stays stuck like thick honey dripping from a spoon, unable to fully fall.

"Sad?" Tan fills in with curl of his lips, a contrite look in his eyes.

"Yes, sad." Something along the lines of pain twinges in Streets chest, grief maybe, but that seems absurd as Nate is not dead, nobody has shown up on Streets doorstep muttering those few nightmarish words saying his brother has passed, so Street has to assume Nate is okay.

"Nate would like tonight." Definitely. The cars whooshing by, the colorful lights around, the sky changing to a haze of purplish blue to signify nighttime, Nate would enjoy it all and probably talk nonstop about how gorgeous it all is.

"Do you like tonight?"

"Yes. I like laying up here with you, it's comfortable." He’s slept on enough floors throughout the years that the rooftop under them doesn't bother his back like it probably would Hondo or Chris.

"I like when you do that."

"Do what?" To Streets knowledge, tonight is like every other night aside from them coming here.

"When you talk without filtering yourself, you always seem more relaxed." Oh, Street knows his speech pattern can change depending on the situation or how much energy he has to 'mask' as some would say; but he never thought anyone had noticed it since he moved to La.

"You don't find it annoying?" A couple of people in Long Beach have commented about it bugging them that Street always talked so straightforward and choppy like.

"No, it's just you being you. I like it, feels natural."

"Thank you.” A warm smile comes to Streets face, he sighs contently before tipping his head til it meets the side of Tans, not fully laid against one another but touching. Just enough.

“Course baby.”

Victor doesn’t say anything after that. They both just lay there, listening to the cars and people, looking up as the sky switches from color to color before falling dark. Even then, neither move, they stay laying in the comfort of the night.

[findroleplay]

Hello there! 24-year old fem here looking for some partners for a lighthearted MxF RP involving some cute romance and slice-of-life moments. I'm looking to play a female OC for this, and mostly just need something sweet and sugary, but am more than open to a healthy dose of some angst/drama (not too heavy, but your basic stuff should be fine). Basically, I've been having a brainrot for some cutesy shoujo anime (I blame Horimiya: The Missing Pieces for it mainly) and dating sim games and would love to have a few RPs involving some of those tropes. Nothing too complicated, all I need at the moment is a love story xD. 

I'm open to all sorts of tropes involving such genres, and all sorts of AUs etc (like university romance, childhood crushes, best friends to lovers, meet cutes, anything) too. My own OCs are normally balls of sunshine, but give me whatever you will, a guy who's shy, bad, broody, just anything, and I'll happily work with it! I don't have any major triggers, but as I said, earlier, I'm looking for something simple right now, and we can work the details out from there. 

Once again, I'd like to have an MxF RP with me playing the female, and while I'm more inclined towards a fandomless RP atm and would much more like to do it, I also do watch a ton of anime (like MHA, JJK, BSD, AoT, Black Clover, and Demon Slayer) so you can totally reach out if you'd like to do an OC x CC RP for some of those too, if you're open to doing an AU RP for them. Oh and, I'm more than willing to double in case you do reach out for a CC x OC RP, so don't be afraid to ask!

My replies are very flexible in length, and by that, I mean super flexible (of the order of a single liner to a whole book, based off what you give me), and I'm pretty frequent in replying (at least one reply a day if it's up to semi-lit or maybe even lit). I RP almost exclusively on Discord, but can be convinced to RP on Tumblr as well. And I love to talk OOC but it's not mandatory, so that's a freeway! If this interests you in any way, shoot a like and I'll reach out to you, or simply find me on Discord: ClumsyCutie#0077. 

-