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indouloureux · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤)

summary: steve picks you up when you crash your car after your break-up. and you both realize things you wish you realized sooner.

warnings: 7k. smut 18+ mdni, blood, car crash, angst, fluff, allusions to smut, accusations of emotional cheating, idiots in love (based on the song 'flower in the dark' by fiji blue). slight sub!steve, facesitting, less dirty talk, small smut beCAUSE, creampie? cum eating, kinda sucky

a/n: takes place several months after s4, meaning this takes somewhere early 1987, which explains the INXS song. hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It happened so suddenly.

One minute you’re listening to a-ha, the next you’re swerving your car tremendously to the side to avoid a crossing cat. Your car hits a tree, hard and unforeseen, hurling you almost onto the dashboard and through the windscreen had it not been for the airbag. Your forehead meets the hard leather of your steering wheel, hefty enough that it makes you bleed just beneath your hairline.

There’s loud ringing in your ears, your eyesight fooling you into thinking you might be underwater. The hood of the car is bent, bunched in uneven folds and dark smoke seeping through the unhinged bumper, full of dents and thrown onto the ground. And fuck, your head hurts and your nose is bleeding. You know damn well the car might explode in a couple minutes, but you’re too weak to move.

Along with the faint memory of the cars screeching against the uneven asphalt road, there’s panicked chattering behind your car. With a hand on your forehead, you weakly reach over to open the door, but a stranger beats you to it—the woman keeping her arms stretched out to keep you from falling before you feel her hands around your waist, dragging you up from your slowly burning car.

It’s a cluster of are you okay? What happened? Someone called the ambulance! (you almost snapped at the second question. “I hit my car, dipshit. The fuck does it look like?”).

In that blurry haze, you remember being sat down in someone's car, someone saying that a truck’s coming to pick your car up, and if you wanted to be driven to the nearest phone booth.

You end up being dropped off at a phone booth right outside Hawkin’s Post. The woman had been kind enough to give you a cold beer for your forehead, and some rag she found in her glovebox to wipe the blood off your face. You hear how quick she left when the ringing left your ears, the way her wheels screeched the same way yours did before you hit the tree; you’re stumbling your way inside the confined box and picking up the phone, only to stare at the numbers blankly.

You’ve got no one to call.

No one knows where you live other than Robin, who doesn’t have a license and you couldn’t take the risk; Dustin, who’s not of age yet and god knows how he’d drive; Max…absolutely not. Nancy? With Jonathan on a date. Mike? You’d actually prefer having your face smashed into a windscreen than him driving you home. Lucas? Can ride a bike but almost crashed your car one time.

Five of them don’t even have cars.

Which leaves you to one last person.

Your heart pounds at the thought of him. Minds visibly debating if you should be petty and walk yourself home, or if you should suck it up and call him and just let yourself dwell in his passenger seat in this pity blood puddle as he tries to talk to you.

There’s sweat coating the thin epidermis of your hand, the material of the phone buttons burning beneath your fingertip as you dial his numbers. Your head aches, still even after the cold bear that’s now warming on your other hand, and you feel like your nose has been dislocated. And with the bottom half of your face crossing the border of numbness, you could faintly feel something drip down your nose.

Eleven digits pressed ten seconds later, the phone rings. You rest your head on the switchhook with the receiver hot against your ear as you hear the loud ringing. You wait, maybe ten seconds. Until it turns twenty to almost thirty before you hear the sound of a phone being picked up.

“Harrington residenc… ah, screw it. Hello?”

You don't speak, nervously twirling the handset line in your index finger as you stare blankly at the number pads, wondering what he might look like right now. There’s a statical silence filling your ear, and you try your best to let out a hushed deep breath.

“Hello?” he repeats.

Finally, you blink. “Steve?”

It’s his turn to stay quiet, like he’s processing whose voice he heard. You hear his soft huffs through his nose, and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the headache.

“(y/n)?”

You smile a little. “Yeah. It’s me.”

You hear shuffling before he speaks again. “Hey. Um- what’s up?”

“I…” you suck your cheeks in, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I crashed my car.”

“What?!”

“I’m fine!” you reassure him. “Just…can you pick me up? I’m- I’m outside Hawkins Post and I can't really walk to where I was supposed to go. It’s too far…”

There’s a second of silence. An entire second that he’s given himself to decide. And you don't expect him to immediately say, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

He came in five minutes.

You wonder if he’s passed the speed limit, ran through red lights and ignored speed bumps just so he could get to you. And the thought of it makes your heart ache — in the worst way. ‘Cause now you’re thinking if he’s that eager to see you, or that eager to help you, or just to get this over with. And just the thought of him being excited to see you?

It sets a confusing flame in your chest.

Steve exits his car. Striped shirt and tight dark blue jeans in all his disheveled eminence. You push yourself away from the phone booth, the lack of shade straining your eyes, but Steve jogs up to you and blocks the sun with his height.

“Hey,” his eye squints, hair not large enough to block the sunlight. “Jesus, (y/n), you’re bleeding.”

His hand comes up to touch gently on your forehead, where you wince at the contact of his fingertips on something raw. Steve tuts, muttering an apology before he’s fully cupping your face, but his apology doesn’t matter.

Not when he’s touching your face like it’s a normal thing for him to do. Like he used to back in those forgotten summer mornings and winter nights, with the way he cradles your face like a vase full of wilting flowers. But Steve doesn’t look into your eyes. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he’s looking at the laceration on your forehead. And it feels familiar.

(Maybe when Billy Hargrove had almost beaten him to a pulp. And you remember Steve laying unconsciously between your legs at the back of Billy’s car, his face in your hands, slipping between the gates of consciousness.)

“What happened?” he asks, his hair falling over to cover the worry lines on his forehead.

“Saw a cat,” you murmur, cheeks flushing from his touch and you hope he doesn't feel it. “I swerved and I crashed into a tree. My car’s done for and- and my head hurts.”

“Course it does, ‘y crashed your car,” he mutters. And when Steve finally looks into your eyes, the worry shifts into a quick wave of realization that he’s still holding your face so casually. You see him swallow thickly, dropping his hands to his sides where he palms the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got um, tissue. And water in the back of my car. We should get-get in. It’s getting hot.”

You follow him, watch as he opens the door for you and guides you in. Steve pushes his hair back as he crosses, walking over to his side until he’s sat beside you and slams the door closed. He doesn’t look at you yet, like he’s still preparing himself to look at you as he reaches behind to pull out two water bottles. Steve hastily gives them to you before he’s opening the glove box, pulling out a box of tissues and a bottle of alcohol, as well as a small box of bandaids.

Pointing at the tissue box, you furrow your eyebrows. “You still have that?”

The box of tissues he bought specially for Eleven. He’d complained to you before, how she always used her sleeve instead of buying a handkerchief to carry around so she’d wipe her blood off. And when you’d told him to do something about it himself, he bought everyone tissue packs — “Just in case one of you is with this kid and she starts bleeding again.”

You still have yours dug deep in a bag hidden in your cabinet. Dusted and unused.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Kid’s back in Hawkins. God knows what might happen again. Even though the gates are closed now,”

“Dunno. Maybe the Russians are opening a gate again. We weren't so sure last time, right?”

“Only because some burnt middle aged man with powers decides to terrorize teens and open four huge gates,” Steve reaches over to swerve the AC to your direction, taking a bottle from your lap to open it. He shoves it in your hands, elbow on the steering wheel and he finally looks at you. “Drink up. You might get a heatstroke. Or you might pass out.”

You grimace at him.

Steve eyes you like something he’s lost his entire life. That wonder of unexpected reconciliation that makes his heart beat unwinding, because you’re talking to him. You called him for help; and even though Steve knows he’s not exactly your first choice for help, there’s a candle of hope offered to him. He watches you drink from the plastic bottle, trembling hand grasping it tight against you as you drink with heavy eyelids.

He takes it from you when you’ve finished the entire thing, tossing it behind him before he looks back at you with wary eyes. “More?”

You shake your head. “No,” you smile a bit.

Then he points to your forehead, side of his finger grazing the bridge of your nose. Steve’s other hand rubs his chin. “What about those? Need some help?”

“Do you even know how to?” you quip. Steve scoffs, reaching for the box of tissues in your hand and unscrews the alcohol.

“I think I’ve learned. From getting my ass handed to myself three times.” he pours alcohol on the folded tissue, eyebrows raising everytime he speaks. “I think we just got lucky last time. Minus the choking part.”

Steve’s hand raises on the side of your face, hesitant in taking your cheek into his palm once more. When he nods for permission, you allow him; ignoring the way his touch ignites something heavy in the pit of your stomach that causes the butterflies to leave their cocoons and storm your belly.

His touch is benign, delicate, conscious in the way that he knows he’s holding your face unlike earlier. He mutters instant apologies when you wince from the alcohol against your opening wound, the feeling of his thumb stroking the supple skin of your cheek was somehow an amelioration that he hopes would work.

The blood blends with the alcohol infused tissue, staining the soft paper. He wipes a bit harder on the dried morsel of blood surrounding your wound, until a small cut appears once all the blood’s gotten rid of. Steve takes the box of bandaids from his lap, you watching as he clumsily opens it and pulls a yellow bandaid with purple stars around the oval-like bandage.

Your eyebrows raise, bemused. “Cute,”

“Dustin wanted them,” he’s quick to defend. Steve removes the plastic from the bandage, spreading apart until he raises it to your wound and carefully places the pad on top of the cut, thumbs pressing it down until it sticks to your skin. “Or I think Erica did. Dunno. Kids love to take advantage of me.”

“Rich teenager who spends his time with a bunch of kids? Who wouldn't?” you snort. “I’m surprised they haven't asked you to buy them Nintendo.”

“Why? Do you want one?” his brow raises, fingers moving down to press on your nose, a slight throb as he does so.

“Pretty please?” you jut your bottom lip out. “With Ghosts N’ Goblins?”

Steve shakes his head, massaging the bridge of your nose. “Take advantage of me, why don't you?”

You laugh. “You know what this reminds me of?” you murmur. Steve looks at you, hands in a momentarily halt on your nose. “Billy. When we had to carry you to the back of his car and we had nothing but alcohol and bandaids. You know, Mike was actually thinking of stitching the cut,” you reach up to graze the ever faint scar on his jaw, and his face softens when you do so, “right here. But all we had was a fish hook and we couldn’t risk it.”

His chuckle’s short, faint and wilting off into the silence in his car as he looks at you, your hand muzzy on his jaw as your tracing stops, your eyes flitting to his. And Steve’s so close, with his breath fanning your face and the tip of his nose grazing yours; his eyes searching like a sailor on sea, an undulate curve of his thick hair covering his forehead when he dips his head down the slightest. You drop your hand back to your lap and turn your head away, making all his hope break and Steve sinks back to his seat, swallowing thickly. He screws the cap of the alcohol back on.

“So, where were you going?” he turns the key in the ignition, pushing his hair back before they settle on the steering wheel. You hm, an unsure ‘um’ that battles between telling him the truth or not.

“Home,” you lie. “Just, uh, take me home.”

The aether sky disappears behind the cluster of thick, dark clouds; like how paint water would topple over an artwork as it slowly washes over the dull sky of Hawkins, all that optimistic cyan glory replaced by a caliginous silver as its tears slowly fall down to the cracked ground. Your fist on your cheek, the radio quiet, and Steve’s contemplating whether you had told him the truth or not. He heard the slight hesitation in your voice, the avoidance of eye contact and the uncomfortable shift in your seat.

And so as he turns the corner, opposite to where your home was that you surprisingly didn’t notice with your dazed staring, Steve rubs his nose. “Hey, uh. Where’d you crash your car?” your head turns to him, cheek leaving your fist to straighten your back. “Just wanna see if the truck’s gotten it already,”

“I’m sure it’s still there,” You pull nervously at your seatbelt, staring ahead at the windscreen. “But just, um, past Warzone.”

“The one Eddie told us all the illegal shit were?”

“Yeah.”

“That- That’s where you were heading?”

You grimace. “I said past Warzone. Not before or at the Warzone.” your top lip curls in exiguous agitation. “And this is not the way to my fucking house, Steve.”

“Yeah, because we’re not going to your house,” his hand raises to point in front of him, driving past empty houses and rundown buildings that lead outside the town, the rain that forms little puddles beside sidewalks as the windscreen wiper starts moving.

“This is kidnapping!” you gawp silently, incredulous. “Take me home, Steve.”

“No, I wanna know where you’re going that you crashed your car past Warzone,” though loud, Steve’s voice is calm and patient, waiting for your reason. His sudden curiosity is unneeded, you think. Because why should he care where you’ve been? “Tell me so I can…drive you there.”

You sigh, back slumping on his leather seat as you look back at the window. “Illinois.”

The car slows with the way Steve’s foot weakens, eyes taking a double look on you. “Illinois? What- what are you gonna do in Illinois? See Murray?”

“No,” you say. “I was-...I was going to see my new apartment.” you look at him, seeing the way his hands tighten around the wheel. “It’s a couple miles farther from Murray’s, I think.”

It’s like his ribcage shrinks and squeezes his lungs, an ache that spreads throughout his chest as Steve’s mouth parts, head turning between the rode and you. He fixes his composure, the cat killed by his bothering curiosity as he says, “Apartment? You’re gonna move to Illinois?”

You shake your head. “Not forever. Just…indefinitely. Like, like a vacation. Or something.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you repeat. “We’ve nearly gotten killed, like, four times. Do you not think about, I don’t know, taking a vacation to rest? Leaving Hawkins after you got your ass handed to you for god knows how many times?”

Steve lets his shoulders rise into a shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I can’t just leave them, you know. The kids,” his hand motions behind him. “Especially now that Max’s in the hospital and Eddie’s healing. It’s not like Robin’s the most reliable babysitter- don’t tell her I said that,” he turns to look at you. “And, with Jonathan back, the kids are gonna need you, too.”

“They don’t need me,” you squirm a little in your seat. “They have you. And Robin, who can do well with babysitting. And they’re not kids anymore, Steve. They don’t need babysitters. There are no more monsters slipping out of gates, or people randomly dying. I can- take a vacation if I want to.”

“Yeah, indefinitely,” he scoffs. “You’re just gonna leave everything behind?”

“I’m not!” you almost yell. “And besides, I’m always gonna call. Everybody's got phone’s now. So what if I don’t come back? They’re gonna be fine without me, Steve,” you think it’s the truth, with the way you said those words. Because they had each other: Max had Lucas. Eddie had Dustin, Will had Mike, and Steve had Robin. You? You’re just this random crayon drawn onto a piece of paper that disparities its colors. You didn’t have your own contrast, your own someone. Not after what happened with Steve.

“Why,” you continue, licking your lips. “Why do you care, anyway?”

You look at him, see the way everything behind him moves in a fast blur; trees fragmented by the raindrops coating his window. His nose wrinkles into a quick sniff, his eyes trained across the wet road. “You’re leaving—”

“—indefinitely—”

“—yeah and still, I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” his voice softens into a whisper, his cheeks turning pink at his confession, maybe also because you’re staring at him. “I mean, you’re moving to Illinois for god knows how long. What if you decide that you’ll stay there forever? How will the kids reach you when they need your help? What about Robin, or- or Nancy?”

Nancy’s name makes you wince.

His reason veils what he truly wants to say, even though what he said was a genuine concern of his. Steve gives you occasional glances, sees the way your eyes get clouded as you lose yourself in a thought, hears the way the song switches to the new released song Never Tear Us Apart.

You can’t read his mind, but you’ve got his tones and body language memorized like the entire map of hawkins. But maybe you’re wrong, because his tone is new and confounding — misleading in his words. You know he’s using the kids to mask up what he wants to say. And you, with your overthinking mind that has been giving you suffocating trepidations and agonizing maybes and what-ifs, your mind bears on a fact you refuse to believe but makes you scoff out loud in disbelief, anyway.

And despite its dubiety, you say it out loud anyway. “Yeah, Harrington. Go act like you care, why don’t you?”

In that snarky tone that puts a rock on your heart, Steve glowers slightly. “I always care about you, (y/n).”

“Well, you sure did a lot to let me know,” you roll your eyes, sinking into your corner. “Sure. Go flirt with Nancy Wheeler in front of me. Maybe in front of Jonathan, too! That totally shows how much you care, Steve.”

“Jesus Christ,” he runs a hand down his face, the pattering of the rain getting louder the farther you go out of Hawkins. “What’s this got to do with Nancy?”

“Really? You’re gonna act like you didn’t just almost tell Nancy you were still in love with her two weeks after we broke up?” Steve furrows his eyebrows at you. “Do you know how anxious and hurt I was to see you act like that around her? Thinking about how what if Steve was in love with Nancy the entire time he was my boyfriend? What if he just used me to get over her so that’s why he didn’t care that I dumped him? Didn’t even fight or ask why, like- like we were nothing. And now you’re telling me that you care? Did it even occur to you that maybe you’re the reason why I’m moving to Illinois because seeing you just hurts?”

There’s nothing but the turbulent radio and the loud rain hitting the roof of his car that fills the thick silence. Your chest heaves, now unburdened with the weight of your premonition. And his mind registers your words slowly — Because no, it hadn’t occurred to him that he’s the reason you’re moving; it hadn’t occurred to him that you had a sense of doubt tribulating you even as you prepared to kill Vecna back then. ‘Cause he’d been too worried to think about how to make it up to you, all while he tries to rekindle his friendship with Nancy. To the point you’d mistaken it as flirting with his yearning stares and lingering gazes.

“You really…felt that?” his voice is small, like he’d been yelled at by his own mother for his stupidity. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to not look at him, afraid of breaking down when you do.

“Yeah,” you rub your nose with the side of your finger. “I mean, I guess it’s a sensible reason, right? Seeing as I didn’t exactly have the truth to confirm my thoughts; we got together a week after you and Nancy broke up. I don’t think a week’s enough to move on, yet we went on a date. And, I don’t know, I guess maybe I thought you’d only gotten with me because I was there, and we were both healing, and we both kinda needed some anchor. Except I really did like you and, it’s- It’s not like you told me you loved me, anyway.” you laugh sadly. “So what’s the point? Why would I stay here if I didn't have my own anchor anymore? I could just…float.”

It’s not like you told me you loved me, anyway.

There’s a rip on his heart when you wipe a tear away, pushing your hair behind your ears. Steve feels a lump on his throat, getting heavier and threatening as you continue.

“I cried a lot. When I broke up with you. Maybe because I saw the way you didn’t care. You didn’t even ask why. You just…said ‘okay.’ With your hands in your pockets, watching me leave your house. And- and then Vecna happened and I didn’t have time to grieve until- until you told Nancy about this dream of yours that I thought was really fucking stupid. And I said, well Steve Harrington totally is a douchebag because what are you doing telling your ex-girlfriend about your future like you want her to be there?”

A hand leaves the steering wheel as he scratches his head. Steve is an idiot. A man who’s shit at communication, a man who acted like he didn’t care when he broke your heart, a man who shamelessly gave Nancy stares that he used to give you when they were together. A man who’s nothing short of obliviousness to what you feel, who thinks that you were okay this entire time when really, you’d just been digging yourself a hole to hide yourself into. A hole that’s three hours away.

And despite his naivety, he’s appalled that he ever made you feel like he only liked you because you were there. Someone who’d been near and available to him. Steve wonders what else could you have felt that hurt you, that made you move to Illinois after what he did.

Steve slows down much to your dismay, just a few minutes after he passed the Hawkins sign. He parks beside the empty road, the ones passing by filled with boxes and eager families that don't seem to care about the both of you as he pulls on his gear and faces you with a hand to the back of your headrest.

And he sees you: the way you’re silently hurting while relishing in the relief of a confession. When you take a quiet inhale when you realize he’s leaned closer, your eyes widening the slightest because this was the third time he’d unabashedly leaned closer to you.

“Well, I am an idiot,” he finally spoke. “Because I never told you that I loved you,”

Your heart pounds, loud and hard, almost painful with it. contact against your chest. And you eye him suspiciously, staring deep into those umber eyes of his, searching for any kind of fathomless reason for him to use this opportunity for a sadistic joke just to hurt you. But alas, you knew Steve. He was never the type of man to hurt a woman’s feelings over an insensitive joke, let alone hurt a woman with cruel words other than ignorance (speaking from experience).

But still, you’re left befuddled. Why now, out of all the opportunities, has he decided to tell you he loves you? Is he using this to make up for all the pain he’s caused you? Or because he thinks you at least deserve to know that he does love you, just not in love, and now he’s got the opportunity to say it to you.

And why, out of all times, do you feel bile rise up to your throat?

“Steve…”

“Babe,” he reaches over. But you squirm away from his touch that makes his face fall, eyebrows raised into a small melancholy hill of pain when you flinch by the faintest touch of his hand. “(y/n), come on,”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,”

Steve pales. “Fuck,” he looks behind him, hand rummaging over the random shit on the floor before he looks back at you in panic. “I don’t have bags—”

“Fucking hell,” you unlatch the door, hurling it aside until your feet hit the wet asphalt and rain starts to pour on you. Steve stares at you in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” he yells, but he follows right after you slam the door shut, tracing your footsteps as you walk away from his car and hunch over the side. “It’s raining! Just, puke in the trunk or something!”

You shake your head, gasping as you place your hands on your knees, heaving. Steve walks over to you, raindrops falling on the tips of his eyelashes that make him blink rapidly. “Stay there, Harrington. Come any closer and I’m hurling at your shoes,”

His hands raise, scrutinizing you out of worry. You compose yourself, straightening your back and running your hand through your hair that’s been dampened by the heavy rainfall. And Steve — Steve looks so desperate, even more now that the rain has fallen upon him and makes him look like a sad puppy. With his eyes twinkling and his hair fallen into a thick mop that he slicks back, lips parted to breathe.

“You’re not sick, aren't you?” he says softly in the thunderous impact of rains on road.

You shake your head, finding the courage to walk over to him and pull on the shirt that sticks to your chest. The rain on your wound hurts, but it doesn't matter anymore.

“Let me rephrase my words then,” Steve readjusts himself, finally letting his whole body turn to face you. “I love you, and I’ve been in love with you since you told me that I deserved being called bullshit by Nancy. I love you because you’re the second person to give me that bump in the head right after she did and that made me realize that you were it for me. I love you because you put me right on track. You actually told me that I was an asshole and if you hadn't, maybe I’d still be that asshole till this day,

“The thing about my future? The six, stupid little nuggets that I told Nancy?” He takes your chin into his hand, rubbing the skin below your lips. “I always saw you in there. It was never her. I thought it was her until you hit me in my goddamn head. It’s always been you, (y/n),” Steve murmurs. “All it took was three bumps to the head for me to realize all that. And — and I’m sorry if I acted like I didn't care when you dumped me. But I’ve always cared.”

“Then why didn't you?” your bottom lip wobbles. “Why didn't you care when I broke up with you?”

“I was pretending,” Steve reaches over to push the hair sticking from your face, rubbing your eyelids with his wet thumbs so you’d see clearer. “I just- I was an idiot, okay? When you broke up with me, I thought it was for the best because both of us were just processing things. I had work and you had to go back to school and we’d drifted apart after Starcourt. I wasn't there for you. And you deserve someone who’s going to be by your side everyday. Not someone who… can barely finish a fight they started.”

Steve Harrington, a man whose language was dipshit and the surnames of his kids, astounds you with his lengthy confession. Steve Harrington, who thinks cheesy rom coms are full of unrealistic scenarios and shitty plot lines, tells you he’s in love with you with the rain pouring down on your trembling bodies, like a scene from a movie he hates. Steve Harrington, the man you swore to forget and to never look back to when you leave this town, has his face in your hands and his lips pulled to yours.

His mouth’s hot, familiar and welcoming like it always was. Like a missing puzzle piece found beneath the couch, his lips locking with yours in a kiss so tender and balmy it puts the cold rain to shame as it warms you. Steve puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him, drowning out the sounds of passing cars that honk at the both of you and the thunder that claps in the grey sky.

You pry your lips apart, wet with the rain and the slick of his pink mouth. And you push the thick strand of hair from his face, Steve slowly opening his eyes to stare deeply into yours.

“You don't have to say it back,” he mutters. “Not now. Only when you want to.”

“I can't believe I kissed you,”

He smiles a little. “Me neither.”

“That was kind of stupid,”

“... I liked it.” He takes your hands off his face, running his thumbs along the little scars scattered all over. “Let me make it up to you, please?”

He kisses you again. And again. And again; making up for all those sleepless nights he hadn't kissed you and curled to his side instead. Making up for all those times he made you feel like he didn't care; making up for all those times he wasn't there when you wanted him to. A kiss, although almost futile to rid of the pain he’s caused you, brings you to cloud nine and makes you putty in his large hands.

Steve walks backwards, taking you with him until he blindly hits the backdoor of his car, a hand leaving you to grasp its handle.

“Steve—”

“Let me—” his eyebrows furrow, words muffled with the touch of your puffy lips, “—make it up to you. Come on, babe.”

You nod against him, your own hand finding his to pull on the door handle. Steve dips his body and falls onto the leather seat, taking you with him that you land on top, your chest smushing against his, your clothings dripping to the carpet and onto the leather of his car.

“We’re gonna get your seats wet—”

“I don't care,” he sits up, making you straddle his lap as he reaches behind you to close the door. “Can just wipe it off after.”

“But what about our clothes?”

Despite this, you pull on his shirt. Steve discards it swiftly, a rip faintly heard before dropping it onto the floor with a wet thump. “You’re really concerned about that right now?”

Scars from the bites. Brazen and threatening, bumpy when your fingers traced its uneven and cruel mark left on his skin. At nights, Steve would stare at them. Think of how hideous they were, thought about how they'd ruin him forever. But with your admiring, soft touch, he feels as if its a reminder that he'd survived because of you. Because of your persistence despite the pain he's caused you; you look at it as if it's that perfect flaw in every painting, uncanny, grotesque, but beautiful.

You place your hand on his chest, feeling the hair damp against your palm as you break away from him. Steve grasps your waist, bunches the wet material of your shirt in his hand as he looks at you with the dusk of arousal blooming his pupils. Eyes wide in anticipation and lips puffy for more, he slides his hands beneath your shirt to warm the coldness of your flesh.

“You sure about this?” he finally whispers. You push his hair behind his ear, giving him a chaste peck.

“We’re here now, aren't we?” you tell him. Steve smiles, bright like the lightning that hits the road. He kisses you again, his hands grasping at your shirt from beneath until he rips it apart. The tear makes you gasp, agape as you watch him throw it aside. “I bought that from The Gap, you know? It was kind of expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he starts kissing your neck, nipping and sucking the rain off your skin. And when he sucks harder, there’s a light prick that stings your neck, only to be soothed by his warm tongue that he lathers over, his teeth grazing your flesh but never biting.

Steve’s hand comes up to toy with the clasp of your bra, hands positioned to push but he never does. Not when you’re holding his face against your neck like he’s feeding off you, stuffing your nose in his hair and inhaling his rich cologne drowned out with the smell of rain.

“Jus’ take it off,” you kiss his temple.

“Alright,”

He does, untroubled as he easily unclasps its tiny hooks and lets it fall to your sides. Steve’s hand cups around your shoulders, hooking his fingers on the lace strap and pulls it down your arms as his lips stay planted on your neck, watching as they fall off flawlessly and onto your lap.

Leaving one last kiss to your neck, he moves down to wrap his lips around the skin of your bare breasts, throwing your bra to the passenger seat. You gasp, head throwing back with your hands grasping at his hair.

“Fuck, Steve,” you whimper, moving your hips on his thick crotch with the guidance of his hand, the other massaging a tit into his mouth as he suckles at your buds, looking up at you adoringly.

“Baby I want you to,” he kisses you again, slowly laying down but his hands keep you in place. Steve looks up at you with heavy eyelids, grasping at your tits as you grind down onto him. “Want you to sit on my face.”

Your grinding slows, hands palming at his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah— fuck, honey. Just want you to. Please,” Steve pulls on the waistband of your jeans, unbuttoning them. “C’mon baby.”

“Okay,” you raise your hips, a foot coming down to the carpet to remove your jeans, head bumping slightly onto the roof of his car. Your back hunches awkwardly, embarrassed that Steve’s seeing you struggling but he doesn't care, not when his tongue darts out between his lips in anticipation as you bring your panties with your jeans.

Steve pulls you immediately to him, until your knees are on either side of his head and his hands hard and heavy on your thighs to keep you levitating above him. He’s kissing stars on your thighs, knows with the way your hips jut impatiently that you want more other than sorry, coaxing kisses. With your hand on the backseat and one on his hair, he leans up to take a whiff of your leaking arousal, groaning when he smells the sweet honey.

“Christ, (y/n),” he kneads your ass. “Don't be shy. Just sit.”

And you do, carefully lowering yourself onto his mouth opens and his tongue darts out to lap at your dripping hole. You moan loudly, looking down to see him dig his nose on your clit and his hair all disheveled from your pulling. “Oh, Steve,”

He hums against you, dragging his tongue on your folds until his lips wrap around your clit. You grind on his face, small pants and whimpers leaving your mouth when he groans. “You taste amazing. Like fucking— fucking amazing. Sweet little pussy stayed the same.”

A finger prods on your wet entrance, tracing your small hole until it slips in, incessant until his pointer’s buried knuckle deep. And when he pulls out with a slick gush, he puts in two without warning, stretching your hole open with two of his thick limbs, scissoring them as he laps up at your swollen clit.

“That’s it,” he growls, sucking harder on your bud with a little head shake as his fingers begin scissoring at a pace so tantalizingly slow it drives you insane. “Ride my face, baby. Use me.”

He finds himself falling a bit more harder when he looks up to see your face scrunched in all your heavenly glory as you lose yourself in that rainstorm of rapture with your eyebrows joint and your jaw slacked to emit its euphonious moaning. Finds himself submitting more than he expected as he digs himself deeper into you, your own taste marking him more than he’d marked you when your slick coats half of his face.

Your hand finds itself using his stomach as leverage, leaning back to give Steve a better perspective. And the other remains on his hair, tugging deeper when he removes his fingers and continues using his tongue instead, taking your hand off his hair to lace it with yours.

“Shit,” you puff, hand tightening around his. Steve opens his eyes, the tip of his nose glistening as he flicks his tongue up and down between your folds. He uses his other hand to spread your petals with his fingers shaped into a v, prodding his tongue in your tight hole until it’s fully fucking you. “Ngh—ah, oh god, your tongue feels so good,”

A taste of forbidden fruit, has him drunk and fucking his tongue deeper to venture more of your sweet walls. You squeeze around his thick muscle, mewling louder that you worry you’re heard amongst the continuous roaring thunder. Steve groans against you, his own stomach clenching beneath your hand, tongue exploring everything that’s wet, flicking it against every spongy spot. He’d suck at your swollen nub, lap at your hole like some faucet, knead your ass to urge you harder on his tongue.

“I’m close,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I wanna cum, Stevie.”

“Then cum,” he untucks his tongue from inside you, licking up from your hole to your clit. “Cum for me, baby. Come on.”

And when the thick substance of your sweet cum smears his tongue, he swallows and he swallows like it's the last water in this world. And he’s greedy for more, pushing his tongue in until he’s milked you and dried the cum off your walls, lapping up at the juices of your sticky cunt until you pull yourself away from him.

You hover on his lap as Steve slowly sits up, chasing your lips as if your pussy wasn't enough; but you let him kiss you, nonetheless. The taste of him and your cum evading your mouth as you sit on his lap, soft wet clicking made by your lips every time your mouths closed on one another. Your hands find the button of his tight jeans, toying with it.

“I want you,” he whispers. “Please, baby. You can have me now. Make up for all those times I haven't been there.”

Steve lifts himself to untuck his jeans, stopping only below his knees so you’d rest your cunt right on his thick, hard cock that slaps against his stomach. You run your palm through your wet heat, using it to jerk him off that makes his forehead fall against yours from its sensitivity.

“I have you now, right?” you position his tip at your entrance.

“You’ll have me always,” and when he looks at you devotedly, like the moment wasn’t so unsanctified, you find yourself kissing him again. Like you’d found a place with someone to escape like a flower in the dark, blooming in the twilight just by your palliating touch. That hesitant love you’d felt blossoming from the broken ground and grows in the uncut grass, just enough for him to pick up and cherish.

You sink down to him, hole gaping for him to slip inside your tight walls. Steve moans against your lips, hands tight above your ass as you go down on him.

“Slow down, hon,” you shake your head. You hate being told what to do, deciding to just drop down onto him until your ass slaps against his heavy balls full of cum. “Jesus Christ—”

“So big, Steve,” you slur, head falling to his shoulder. “Cock feels so good…”

“Yeah, baby?” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “This cock’s made just for you. Use it babe, come on.”

And you do, slowly grinding on to him, his thick cock stretching you more, his hands guiding you and urging you to a pace you wish to move on.

You don't know how long you’d been riding him. Alternating between teasing grinds and greedy bounces that has your walls squeezing around him. And god, Steve finds himself submitting more to you, despite the amount of marks he’d left on your neck and chest that muffles the loud moans threatening to leave his throat.

Steve wraps his mouth around your nipple, his cock disappearing from your cunt, the wet squelching turning him more to the edge whenever you’d slam down onto his balls. You moan in his ear, soft and small, almost innocent. But it’s not innocent at all — not with him balls deep, or his mouth on your tit, or the wet sounds created. Steve looks at the reflection from the window, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he urges you faster.

Everything felt familiar. Everything felt the same; everything felt like he never stopped loving you. Not with those gentle, lascivious touches. Not with the way he kisses you. You find yourself back in his arms just a year ago, being comforted in this heaven of his that keeps you from what hurts you, right before he'd pushed you off the clouds (and before he'd caught you himself).

“I missed this,” he huffs. “A lot. Touched myself to the thought of this. Then I’d feel so guilty. But now I don't have to,” you push on his shoulder, bumping your nose with his. “I missed you. And this tight little pussy. And your sweet, dirty sounds — ah. Fuck. Missed the way your cunt would just squeeze around me. Always using my cock hm?”

“Shut up,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouth parting. “I’m close again, Steve. God, you’re such an asshole,”

He chuckles. “What did I do?”

“You and your— your words. Fuck!” you squeal, clutching hard on his shoulders. “Are you close?”

“I’ve been close since you sat on my face. Think I even came in my pants while I was doing it,” he chuckles. “God, I’m gonna cum.”

You both do. Without warning but simultaneous. When both your seeds would mix when you kept on pushing his cum deep into you with every slow bounce you’d make. Steve exhales into your sweaty skin, both your hairs dried but slick with sweat.

When he looks at you again, like a star he’s found in the polluted sky of Hawkins, like a miracle fallen onto the palm of his hand, your heart flutters and builds itself again right in his touch. And it’s filthy, the way your cums would slip down to his thighs and onto the cushions of his car, but his touch’s clean and innocent in its intentions. A promise of never letting go; a promise of always being there to love you and being enough.

—

“I’m still going,”

The storm's gone. Left with nothing but the light rain that taps gently on his windows. The smell of Steve comforts you, despite the sticky smell of sex and sweat stings your nose from the leather you lay on.

He wraps the blanket he found beneath the seats around the both of you, your head on his chest and your hands linked together. Your squirming doesn't bother his concerns, but your sudden declaration does and Steve lifts his head to look at you.

Your eyebrows raise, legs tangled with his and your chin on the bush on his chest. “I’ve got a lovely apartment. A job that I found. I’m gonna work at the record store,” you trace the slope of his nose, sculpted by the hands of gods who’d given him all this sweet handsomeness. “And… It's got a lovely view, too. I need this, Steve.”

His hand runs through your hair, twirling your drying strands in his fingers. “I won't stop you. But I don't want to watch you leave again,”

“Then come with me,” you whisper. “It has a huge bedroom. And a kitchen, Steve. A pretty kitchen and a huge living room. A TV for when the kids would come and visit.” he chuckles at your pout. “Only when you want to.”

Unhesitating and prepared, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he kisses you. “I’d follow you anywhere. Robin has Vickie now, anyway. I can— I can work at a coffee shop. Wear a cute little apron and drink coffee.” he smiles softly, deep lines decorating his tan skin. "And I'll be there when you get home. Smother you with love."

“Wouldn't be opposed to that," you smile at him.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

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sleepingdeath-light · 8 months

Text

relationship hcs ; jax

requested by ; anonymous (26/10/23) & anonymous (27/10/23)

fandom(s) ; the amazing digital circus

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; jax

outline ; “i'm so excited you're doing requests for TADC!!!!! do you have any general dating hcs for jax?”

“I saw that you now do The Amazing Digital Circus requests!

Soooo how about Jax relationship headcanons?”

note ; characterisation may be shaky as we only have the pilot episode out so far

warning(s) ; canon typical asshole behaviour from jax, mostly fluff!

first and foremost, jax is an asshole and that will not change when the two of you start flirting or when you become an ‘official’ couple — he’s not outright malicious towards you anymore, sure, but he’ll keep on teasing and messing with you at every opportunity (he’s also very unlikely to apologise unless he feels like you’re genuinely upset with him and he can’t sweet talk his way out of it)

pranks and teasing are a big part of your relationship, especially if you’re able to match his mischievousness — whether that’s him leaving things in your room for you to find later that he knows will startle you, using nicknames for you that are more amusing than intimate (e.g. something poking fun at your avatar’s height, an inside joke, or just generally teasing you for something you’ve done in front of him that he refuses to let you live down)

he’s a massive flirt and always finds a way to work around caine’s rules and regulations — he leaves just enough unsaid to get the real message across and absolutely loves watching you process what he’s said and then get flustered or frustrated once you realise what he really means (even if you playfully smack him on the chest or arm because it’s more than worth it for him)

physical affection with jax only really occurs on his terms with very few exceptions — such as when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his side, or (if your avatar has hair) when he messes up your hair right after you’ve finished the introduction song — the main exception to the rule is if you’re really not doing too well and need to be grounded or comforted because of it (i.e. you’re experiencing a mental break due to your circumstances or are starting to get close to the point of abstraction for whatever reason — he might be an ass, but he cares and he doesn’t want to lose you)

during caine’s missions he generally prefers to hang out with you if possible, whether that means going off and doing your own thing, watching the inevitable chaos unfold from a safe distance, or actually participating (usually because you’re bored and he just wants to see funny things happen to people) — but that doesn’t mean you’re safe if he decides he’s bored, and he has on several occasions pushed you straight into the ‘line of fire’ of whatever you’re meant to be fighting just to see what you’ll do

(he wouldn’t do it if you could actually get hurt, mind you, but as you’re all physically safe no matter what you’re facing he’s willing to take the risk and the time in the ‘dog rabbit house’ for a laugh)

you’re just about the only person he’ll listen to if ever you tell him to ‘tone it down’… but only for a short while — yeah he can stop teasing pomni for ten minutes to let the poor jester get her bearings, and sure he’ll lay off the bugs in ragatha’s room for a week, but things always return to normal after that because he’s remarkably stubborn, a bit of an ass, and endlessly amused by the ‘suffering’ of others in the circus

if a new character or npc tries to flirt with you then he’s going to go from sassy and sarcastic to outright malicious — more openly so if it’s an npc (at least until caine gets the hint and decommissions them) but if it’s a new character trying to intrude on your relationship then he’s going to make it explicitly clear that (a) you’re taken, (b) you’re exclusive with him, and (c) he will make their time in the circus even more unpleasant if they continue down that path (especially if it’s actively making you uncomfortable in addition to just being disrespectful)

(he might not be able to cause them any harm, but he has keys to everyone’s room and little regard for the safety of others during ‘missions’ so he’s more than able to make them regret flirting with you if he wants)

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #tadc x reader #tadc fluff #tadc jax x reader #tadc jax fluff #the amazing digital circus x reader

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rae-writes · 2 years

Text

don’t mind me~

om brothers x poly!reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : why should you keep your hands to yourself if you’re dating all 7 of them?

a/n : I was basking in slutty vibes while writing this and I enjoyed it. Requested by @your-next-daydream

It’s such a simple touch— the brush of your fingers over his own. Featherlight in nature, he can hardly feel it through the cloth of his gloves, making him grow antsy with the lack of real touch. Lucifer’s gaze cuts down at you, but you’re not deterred by it- you never are. It only fuels you to bite at the glove and yank it off with your teeth. By now, the conversation the first born was trying so hard to keep steady had dwindled as he focused more and more of his attention on the way your tongue poked out to lap at the pad of his thumb. It truly was a mesmerizing sight, one he would’ve knelt down to see; too bad you simply nibbled on the digit before leaving him scrambling to remember what he was talking about beforehand.

Mammon liked the fact that you could always cut his lectures in half when you did this but fuck…you look so good doing it, he can’t help but trace your lips with a jealous growl afterwards

Levi could only watch through his fingers at how sensual the action was and he hoped you didn’t feel how much he was shaking when you held his hand later that day

It was funny to Satan- how much Lucifer could lose his composure when you toyed with him. Don’t get the blonde wrong though, you’ll have to show him what that feels like too

What a deviant, Mc! Asmo fawns over how pretty you looked during your little stunt and winks at his brother; he didn’t even have to teach you that one

Beel just smiles at you, especially if he was being scolded for emptying the fridge again. Oh- he’s blushing? Well, you can’t blame him..you looked really pretty you know?

Belphie, too, likes how flustered Lucifer can get. What he doesn’t like is how you’re keeping eye-contact and smiling at the first born…you know you’re Belphie’s, right?

The snow haired demon has always been easy to fluster, especially when he’s interrupted mid-sentence by your hands trailing up his shirt. Mammon startles, words dying in his throat when your nails press into the skin of his abs— he wants to play it off, to tease you about how of course you couldn’t keep your hands off The Mammon, but he just can’t think properly. His mouth opens only to let out a gasp as your fingers graze his nipples and he can feel his head spinning when you scratch your way back down to his abdomen. Whoever he was talking to is long forgotten- Mammon could’ve been winning millions in the casino and he wouldn’t give a damn, so long as you kept your hands on him- fuck his fucking conversation.

Lucifer should scold you for interrupting his lecture, he really should- but you’re so spoiled… maybe he’ll just let you have your fun with Mammon for as long as you desire

Levi! Is! Jealous! Why does his stupid brother get to feel your touch like that? Why’d you have to do it in front of him? It’s not fair!

Satan couldn’t care less, though he’s a bit miffed that he’s being ignored now. He thinks you spoil that oaf too much- why him of all demons?

Asmo just laughs and laughs- then laughs some more. Mammon’s facial expressions have always been funny; Asmo thinks it’s cute he still tries to deny how he feels even now

Beel didn’t notice at first- he was concerned Mammon had a fever- but then you began laughing, eliciting a few snickers out of Beel once he finally realized what was happening

Belphie was half-asleep during Mammon’s ramble, but hearing your teasing tone makes his eyes snap open. Well, well, well. Why don’t you play with him instead, hmm?

The third born already didn’t want to be there being held up by a random conversation when he could be playing his new game- and now he really didn’t want to be there because if you kept mouthing at his neck he thinks he might actually combust. Your hot breath sent shivers across his body, the light trace of your tongue against his jugular making his knees weak, and when your teeth pressed against his pulse…Levi was latching onto you like a lifeline. Embarrassed whimpers escaped him but not once did he ask you to stop. If you stopped he wouldn’t know what he’d do— the conversation was already at the back of his mind and now you’ve invaded his every sense so please don’t pull away.

Lucifer chuckles, entirely amused by the devilish smirk plastered across your face. Poor Levi, he’ll laugh, but he doesn’t really mean it as he takes his D.D.D out to snap a picture for the gc

Mammon is howling with laughter. He knows he’s always getting flustered so watching Levi get hit with it too just makes his day. Wipes a tear away- still laughing- and high fives you as he leaves

Satan tries to hide his smirk, looking at you in amusement. He’ll actually turn the conversation over to you, making Levi shrivel in embarrassment because now the two of you are talking like nothing’s happening!

Asmo thinks it’s so cute! Your adorable smug expression and Levi’s cherry hued face is just too good to miss out on. He’s whipping out his phone to take a picture too, though he’s posting this one on Devilgram

Beel has no trouble keeping the conversation going- he’s just used to a flustered Levi. Though when you start chomping down on his neck, Beel snickers at his brother’s expense

Belphie, again, was half-asleep and didn’t realize until he heard Levi’s strangled noises. He cracks an eye open, meeting your gaze, and flushes when you wink at him. Move over, Levi! Belphie wants a turn

You acted as if you were trying to be discreet, but the smirk on your face showed otherwise as you slowly rocked your hips over his. Satan inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the book in his hands. He wanted to shoo away whoever was in the room quickly, but he wouldn’t dare open his mouth in fear of letting out a moan. The previous conversation was nonexistent now- Satan’s clenched jaw left no room for audible words but the feel of you rubbing against him elicited low growls that told you all you needed to know. The ripped page left in his hand from the force of his grip screamed at him, though it wasn’t as loud as the urge to chase after you when you bolted from the room with a laugh.

Lucifer is desperately trying to keep his composure so he doesn’t have to deal with Satan’s wrath, but it gets harder the more you keep provoking the younger. He actually flees with you when the page rips, bouts of laughter rolling from his chest

A smirk is practically glued to Mammon’s face- he loves seeing the others get a taste of your teasing. Though, because it’s Satan, he takes a couple steps back to he can freely laugh without getting hit (bolts when that page rips)

Levi is so fidgety and blushy. All he’s thinking about is what if you did that to him while he was gaming?! Fuck, that sounds hot…stupid Satan! It’s not fair he gets the experience first!

Asmo is snickering behind his phone, dodging and weaving as Satan’s tail tries to swat at him. He thinks the fiery blush on the fourth born’s face is just priceless and he needs to show the others. And if the pictures accidentally get sent to the other four as well, then…oops.

The quiet crunching coming from Beel halts as he admires your boldness. Go, Mc! Look at you being a menace. He thinks he might’ve chuckled a few times, but Satan’s glare shut him up- though he kept the amused smile

Belphie is in Levi’s boat : he wants you to move like that on him (preferably as a way of waking him up). He actually lets the conversation die out too while he tries to think of a way to snatch you up- but when Satan’s page rips, he takes it as initiative to run away with you and keep you to himself

Asmo thinks it’s not fair. It’s not fair how much he’s fumbling over his words at just the brush of your lips over his ear. It’s not fair he’s choking up in his conversation when your hand slips in his pants. It’s certainly not fair how hot you’re making him feel, like you are the demon avatar of lust and not him. Asmo tries to ignore it, to play it off, and laugh at your attempts, but a single curl of your finger inside of him sends his knees buckling in defeat. His previous conversation could not be any less relevant than it is now; as you abuse that special spot of his, soft chuckle swirling around in his head, he actually believes he’s been sent back to the celestial realm.

[surprised pikachu face] just when did you become so bold, Mc? Lucifer is actually kind of impressed you’re going that far during his conversation…maybe he’ll teach you a lesson after

Mammon can’t even look at you, and if he could turn off his ears, he would. What’re ya doin?! He’s tryna talk here! He was yer first anyway! Stop that!

Haha…oh, just ignore the Levi-shaped lump on the floor. He’s fine. Probably. (Mans is embarrassed!! When did you get so bold and why would you make him watch that?! He can’t handle it!)

Satan admires your boldness, but he swears to Diavolo, if Asmo starts getting loud, he’s gonna shove this book down his throat— but don’t worry, Mc, you continue as you please

Beel’s face turns pink and he starts to shift his weight around. When you grin at him, he beams back, forgetting that his brother is basically melting in front of him. Oops.

When? Will? It? Be? His? Turn?! Belphie is jealous and he will throw a fit about it. Mocks all of Asmo’s sounds and smirks when it makes you laugh- he’s ruthless

Beel’s polite as he tries to keep the conversation going- despite his face reddening by the second. You’re practically hidden behind his large frame, but he can still see your wandering hands at the bottom of his peripheral vision, working over the growing bulge in his pants. His words turn breathless the longer he tries to pretend nothing’s happening, eyebrows furrowing when you add pressure to your touch. Your head finally peeks out from behind him, eyes peering up with an innocent sparkle that makes his own widen and his mind scream ‘liar!’. Your body curls around his leg just enough so your tongue can lick a stripe up the imprint of his clothed cock. The action elicits a sharp gasp-growl from his throat and as he watches you hop up and saunter away, he can’t even remember what the hell he was talking about.

Lucifer can see you out of his peripherals and just shakes his head at your antics. Really, Mc? Just what is he going to do with you?...pff- no, he’s not laughing. Not at all.

If he’s honest, Mammon did not even see you at first. He was too focused on the conversation, but when he did catch your hands wanderin around, he blushed. Hard. H-he’s tryna t-talk here, ya know?! …maybe you could do that to him sometime..?

Levi is doing his best interpretation of a tomato and he’s doing it well. The third born is dying in his spot and he’d ascend if you ever did something like that to him- critical hit!

Satan admires Beel for trying to keep the conversation going, but once he sees you peek out from behind his brother, he focuses on your little smug expression instead, chuckling when you run off. Menace.

Asmo saw you coming before you even crouched down behind his brother. And he was silently squealing at your boldness- and when you came around front to lick at Beel? Ooh, darling, you’re giving him goosebumps!

Belphie has one of his irritating smirks spread across his face, making his twin whine about him ‘being mean’. You can’t blame him though, look at the blush on Beel’s face! Ha! Wait…no, why are you looking at him like that- why are you getting closer?! Wait-!

When Belphie tugged you into the conversation, he was hoping you’d take over so he didn’t have to talk. Instead, all he got was a sly grin. Your hands were tame as they smoothed out his sweater, buttoning and unbuttoning, but he started to fidget when they slid upwards. Belphie couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell you to hurry the fuck up and do something or to quit your shit; he didn’t have to. Not when the words lodged in his throat as your hand wrapped around it. Your middle finger rubbed circles over his pulse point, thumb pulling back to trail down his Adam's apple. He found himself being unable to speak even after you'd let go, glaring at your retreating figure for making him feel this way.

The narrowed eyes with the dangerous smirk look? Yeah, that’s the way Lucifer’s watching this go down. Finds it refreshing seeing you put his youngest brother in his place- please, Mc, do continue.

Mammon snorts, grinning sharply at the dark irony of it. You look so good, it’s actually just unfair- not to sound like another brother of his - but shit, Mc…him next? Please?

Levi has a full on anime ‘holy shit’ moment. Then he cracks up laughing, pointing at how Belphie’s face turned bright red (rather than his for once). He wishes he would’ve snapped a picture…will bring this up at dinner

Satan hides his amused smirk well, choosing instead to counter more questions at his brother, knowing it’ll piss him off since the fourth born can obviously see what’s happening. But he’d never irritate him on purpose, of course not.

Unlike his brother who was too busy laughing, Asmo will and is taking a picture of Belphie’s reaction and he absolutely sends it to all your friends. Hm? Oh! Why, yes, he’s the one that convinced you to put it as your lock screen. What about it?

It honestly goes over Beel’s head at first- that is, until his twin starts blushing. Then Beel starts blushing and shuffling his weight around when he notices you’re staring at him…oh- oh that’s your hand sliding up his chest…oh.

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gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

University AU where Hob is one of those people that writes notes to himself all over his arms and hands. Digital reminders are too easy to dismiss and sure he's tried notebooks but they get left on a desk or in his dorm or in the grocery store produce aisle that one time, so it's not really a sustainable system. He has the bandwidth to remember his phone, his keys/wallet, and his laptop, and everything else is chance. He really is one of those types of people who would lose his head if it wasn't attached to his neck, at least his arms are more than likely going to stick with him.

Hob has a colorful pile of pens that write well on his hairy skin and the hard won ability to write semi-legibly with both hands to double his writing space. His assignments, grocery lists, personal to-dos, that one song a friend mentioned all get written on his skin so he doesn't have to remember to remember them.

It's all nicely contained until the day he is talking to one of his classmates about books and grabs their arm to write down his recommendation. Hob notices that Dream doesn't really object to the touching or the writing, and from that point on the floodgates open.

At first he just writes ideas and such for Dream on the other's skin but when Dream keeps coming up with reasons for Hob to write on him it quickly evolves into Hob writing himself reminders on Dream just to have the excuse later to grab his wrist and “check” the reminders by running a finger over them. Dream starts to regularly sport t-shirts under his jacket and arms covered in colorful scrawls in contrast to his otherwise monochromatic pallet.

When they start dating, Hob starts writing love notes on Dream’s skin. Little things like “remember: Hob loves you.” “date tonight 6pm” or “looking gorgeous” alongside the doodles and more day to day reminders. Dream might have a phone album full of snapshots of the notes.

When Dream proposes, he steals one of Hob's pens and takes the other man's hand to write “say yes to marriage proposal” on the back of it under the current to-do list. Hob doesn't even let the ink dry before he is trying to kiss the breath out of Dream while simultaneously saying yes.

-💥

This is the cutest thing ever, actually.

Dream is perfect for writing on (although he complains about it, just to keep up his unapproachable goth vibes). He's smooth and paper white, and honestly Hob could save so much money on notebooks and just write on Dream instead. Truthfully, most of what Hob writes is cute sappy stuff, or little inside jokes, or occasionally "drink some fucking water, you are just a houseplant with emotions".

On of Hob’s wedding presents to Dream is a lil trip to a tattoo studio, where Hob gets his marriage proposal permanently inked onto his skin (he didn't wash his hand for a week to preserve the message, and Dream is both disgusted and impressed). In return Hob writes a special "hob loves you" message for Dream to get tattooed as well. Its very schmoopy and Dream is secretly soooo pleased with it.

Yes, Hob also draws a lot of dicks on Dream, by the way. Sometimes the dicks have lil smiley faces. Sometimes they are semi accurate representations of Hob’s dick. This is all fine and good until Dream goes for his first fancy job interview after uni... with a massive, only slightly faded, cartoon penis on his hand. He still gets the job, but Hob has a lot of grovelling to do when he gets home...

He lets Dream draw all over him in bed, that night, to make up for it. And when Dream writes "MINE" is a few specific places on his body, Hob discovers a very specific kink. There may be a few more tattoos coming down the line... if he's a good boy and earns Dream’s writing on his skin <3

#💥 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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agirlandherkinks · 6 months

Text

Controller Rumble (Breast Expansion)

Collab with @tabbycatpuppy, where we both wrote put our own spin on a story prompt :) Link to her story at the bottom of this Featuring: Characters I might not use again but tbh they're kinda fun (Lucy the human (she/her) and Cinnamon the anthro dog (also she/her))

Lucy and Cinnamon had always been close. They'd been practically inseparable since they met in high school, and when Lucy came out Cinnamon was there for her at every step of her transition. She taught her how to style her hair, despite having soft brown fur herself ("Trust meeee Lucy, I watched human girls like you do it all the time!"), dragged her to the shops for wardrobe makeovers, and discovered that baring her teeth worked amazingly at warding off weirdos. Neither of them were interested in dating, but they found each other sexy and were more than happy to hook-up (although all the fur occasionally made Lucy sneeze). And to celebrate 10 years of friendship, Lucy got her hands on something special.

"So, Cinn." Lucy stood between the TV and Cinnamon, who was reclining upside down on the lounge, ears perked. "We've known each other for a long time now, and I need to say I can't imagine anyone kinder, or sweeter, or more fun than you. I feel incredibly privileged to know you, and so I wanted to make today special." Clearing her voice and wiping moisture from her eyes, she pulled out a pair of game controllers from the front pocket of her cow-print dress. "You're still into breast expansion right?" Cinnamon's eyes widened to saucers, and she launched herself at Lucy with her tail wagging uncontrollably.

Half an hour later, after they managed to detach themselves, they had the controllers set up and were ready to play. Both controllers were solid black, contoured, and surprisingly comfortable to the touch. Cinnamon's however, connected to a collar around her neck of the same material, with a stylized little dog bone hanging off it. Lucy booted up the console, and Cinnamon's devices gave off a soft rumble and began glowing violet.

"If these things work like they say they will, every time you lose a game your collar will do... something, and your tits should grow."

"If I lose. You're gonna have to work for this one, cutie." Cinnamon gleefully navigated to Super Smash Bros, eliciting an eyebrow raise from Lucy at the name, followed by a groan as she remembered how bad she was at it. Most controllers weren't even made for paws, but from watching Cinnamon's furry digits pilot her character and grind Lucy's into the dust, you would have thought there was no difference. Cinnamon 1 - Lucy 0.

Cinnamon 2 - Lucy 0.

Cinnamon 3 - Lucy 0...

...

Cinnamon 9 - Lucy 1!

Lucy cheered while Cinnamon stared at the screen in disbelief, competitive pride having made her completely forget why they'd started playing in the first place. But then her collar tightened against her throat and began gently rumbling, sending strange sensations through her body. The vibrations settled in her nipples, causing her to gasp as it began sexually stimulating her. Then, she let out a startled "Yip" as her breasts expanded from B's to C's in a mere second, pushing against the cropped tube top she was wearing. Panting and trembling, she locked eyes with Lucy and grinned lopsidedly. "That was. So. Fucking cool."

Cinnamon 10 - Lucy 1.

Cinnamon 10 - Lucy 2!

Cinnamon was ready to change this time, although the rumbling was stronger than before. Her tongue lolled in pleasure as her tits exploded out again to D cups, feeling heavy and warm as she struggled to adjust to her new weight. She could see her nipples poking through her clothes, and let out an involuntary whine from how sensitive they were when she pawed at one. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lucy trembling a little, and made sure to tease her by 'absentmindedly' squishing them. It was only to work Lucy up, but Cinnamon couldn't deny that it made herself hornier than expected.

Cinnamon 11 - Lucy 2. Cinnamon barely won, and that was only because Lucy was more distracted by her tits than she was.

Cinnamon 11 - Lucy 3.

Cinnamon whined loudly, as the collar rumbled more and more intensely. Not only was it literally making her boobs quiver and bounce into each other, but she could feel the pulsations spread to her pussy, pleasantly massaging every inch of her insides. She panted, pressing her back against the lounge as the vibrations suppressed all conscious thought, carrying her away on a wave of bliss. Lucy, eyes wide, slowly reached over and scratched Cinnamon behind her ears, eliciting a pleased growl from whatever primal part of her brain was currently in control. Cinnamon moaned as she grew once more, her top skintight around her burgeoning E-cups. It took much longer for her to calm down, and even then she felt much flightier, disorientated, and horny than before. The weight of her breasts, and the sensation of how the fabric streeeeeeeetched to contain them was... distracting to say the least.

"Hey, Lucy~?" she panted.

"What is it Cinn?" Lucy replied, clearly struggling to not stare at her friend's burgeoning chest.

"One more game? Aaah~" Cinnamon leaned forward and gasped, the motion having made her tits wobble and bounce and briefly shorting out her brain.

They picked up their controllers, but from the start it was obvious that the canine didn't have much fight left in her. Her boobs partially blocked her view of her controller, and every motion sent them bouncing and brought a low whine out of her. Lucy was struggling to focus too, next to such an erotic scene. She was hyper-aware of the sway of Cinnamon's breasts, the desperate noises echoing in her throat, and was she... rubbing herself through her booty shorts? It was too much. They had to finish now.

Cinnamon 11 - Lucy 4.

Cinnamon began quivering again as her collar activated, looking wide-eyed at Lucy as she loomed over her. Lucy bent down, and pulled up one of her friend's ears to whisper, "I need you."

Cinnamon's only response was a strangled "please~", awareness already fading from her eyes as her tits jiggled and cunt throbbed. Lucy moved her friend so that she laid on her back, then climbed onto the lounge with her. Rubbing Cinnamon's belly, she asked in a patronizing tone of voice "Who's a good girl? Is it you? Is it you?" The doggirl barked happily, feeling proud at the tone but not understanding the words in her haze. Lucy smiled lustfully as she hiked up her dress and pulled out her cock. Cinnamon moaned as Lucy pulled down her shorts, dispelling all thought of foreplay from the human as she unconsciously rammed into her pussy. She gasped, feeling how intense the rumbles coursing through Cinnamon were. She thrust, again and again, fondling her friend's tits, whispering encouragement in her ears, sending waves of pleasure into their already addled minds. And then, Lucy felt Cinnamon's pussy convulse and clamp around her dick, as the doggirl howled with pleasure. Her tits rocketed to F-cups, breaking her shirt, and soaked Lucy with juices from her orgasm as she mindlessly pawed her furry, heaving chest. Lucy slowed down, then disengaged, gently cupping Cinnamon's snout as consciousness returned to her eyes.

"Have fun?" Lucy asked.

Cinnamon giggled, turning over and reaching into her bag, "You didn't cum, did you?"

"Nope", she responded slightly ruefully, starting to settle her dress back over her legs.

"Good." The canine's eyes took on a predatory gleam, and her paws moved in a blur and fastened something around Lucy's neck.

Lucy jerked her head and stood up, and was surprised to hear a jingling follow her. She tentatively touched her neck, and found a cow bell and collar. Blushing a deep crimson, her eyes tracked to her controller, now held in Cinnamon's hands.

"I maaaaay have also bought one of these bad girls for you. Why else do you think I asked you to wear cow-print?" The doggirl licked her lips, then settled on the floor to watch the show, tail wagging.

The controller lit up.

Lucy gasped as her collar started rumbling, faster and faster and faster, until it felt like a constant buzz. She collapsed on all fours as sensations rushed through her faster than she could process, moaning loudly as her nipples and cock began to vibrate. Anxieties, worries, thoughts, all of them swept out of her brain under the sensations, and she gasped in amazement as a pressure mounted in her chest. With one, two, three sensual moans, the human's tits inflated from A-cups to D-cups, pressing against the fabric of her dress with nipples double their original size. The sheer joy of getting so big brought tears to her eyes, and she would have cried if the vibrating hadn't spread and distracted her. She felt rumbling on top of her head, and winced as it felt like something had pushed through it. The same thing happened above her ass, but she could... feel something there? Turn her head, out of the corner of her eye she saw a... tail? And bringing a hand to her head, she distinctly felt little horns. She sighed in delight as she willed her tail to give an experimental sway, and it obeyed.

Another wave of pleasure went through her body as her tits expanded again, and with only one arm to hold herself up she buckled onto her chest. The feeling of her nipples vibrating against the ground was euphoric, and she adjusted her legs so her cock could get the same treatment. It felt so good. Getting bigger was so nice. She needed to...

"Moooooooooooooo~"

Lucy let out a long, low, moo as her tits grew and smooshed into the ground, reveling in living out hucow fantasies she'd thought impossible. Her dress had finally shredded, revealing a pair of massive breasts that strained against a tiny cow-print bra. She mooed more as she grew to G's, then H's, gasping in delight as she saw milky spots leak onto the carpet. And it felt like her panties were getting tighter and tighter and tighter, like her dick was growing too...

She felt something pull her head up by the horns, and stared into a pair of beautiful big brown eyes. Cinnamon, her foggy brain said, the prettiest girl ever... Lucy smiled sleepily, tail flicking in content.

"Ok Lucy," the doggirl said with visibly false coolness, "You can't just writhe there all day and tease me like that. Do you wanna fu-" The hucow burst into motion, shoving her friend to the ground and going straight for her pussy. Cinnamon barked in surprise, then lapsed into a euphoric silence. It felt like a giant, meaty vibrator had been shoved inside her, relentlessly stimulating her clit and G-spot. Her eyes rolled in her head and she started moving unconsciously, twisting around to get to Lucy's tits. She grabbed one and started sucking on an engorged nipple, gulping spurts of fresh, clean milk. Each tug brought a moan and a thrust from her friend, until they settled into a hazy rhythm, surrendering control to their desperate bodies. The cock inside Cinnamon and the boobs she was suckling kept expanding, as the collar struggled to compensate for all the growth Lucy needed. And each time it would bring a scream of pleasure from one or both of them, sending them to greater highs and a greater frenzy, tails lashing against the ground and the air and their own bodies.

And then, in a moment that felt like it lasted forever, the collar rumbled one final time. And they came together, with a moo and howl of delight.

Huffing and weak from their exertions, Cinnamon managed to push her torso upright. She smiled tenderly at her friend, who clearly needed a while to come down from that experience, and nuzzled her cheek. Surveying the room, the shredded clothes, stains on the floor, couch that she hadn't even known they'd overturned, the canine giggled. Worth it, she thought. And when she read the controller manual, she laughed out loud.

Apparently you needed to win two games in a row to reverse the effect of one game's loss. And Cinnamon would make her hefty friend earn all 18. But looking at those sexy mountains of flesh spilling from Lucy's chest, she wondered if she'd be willing to keep a few cups...

Link to tabbycatpuppy's story :)

#breast expansion #expansion #cock expansion #hucow transformation #ally's kinks

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batneko · 1 year

Text

Okay I was trying to come up with a sugar daddy bowuigi AU and I ended up spending so much time thinking about the setting that this is gonna be another long one

So! It's modern day, big city. I prefer to think of it as still a world full of magic and mushrooms and monsters but if y'all want to picture this as a human AU feel free. In this world instead of a king Bowser is the third-generation owner of the biggest demolition company in the city. They took a slight dent lately because Bowser doesn't exactly get along with the city planner... but the company is still best in the business and not hurting for work.

Then there's the Mario brothers, who run a tiny independent plumbing company and by sheer coincidence have a phone number exactly one digit off from Koopa Demolition. They're good at what they do but because they can only take at most two jobs at a time they sometimes struggle. And they can't cut costs (any more than they already have) so the only leg up they have on the competition is promising to be faster than anyone else at the same price. It means they have to work a lot harder (and will definitely backfire sooner or later) but right now they're doing pretty well. Reasonably well. They're doing okay.

Having nearly the same number as a different business means that occasionally both groups will show up somewhere thinking they're about to negotiate a contract only to find out they just wasted their time and gas money. Hard feelings build up. Once, when the bros actually managed to convince a building owner to replace the lead pipes instead of tearing everything down, Mario and Bowser very nearly got into a physical fight. (It doesn't help that Mario is dating Bowser's ex though neither of them will admit that's part of it.)

And then one night Bowser goes back to a demo site to check on something, ends up getting hurt, and Luigi happens to be working late on a job nearby and comes to his rescue. He insists on accompanying Bowser all the way to the hospital, and while he's waiting with him mentions that it turned out to be a good thing the van broke down because if he wasn't walking back to the subway he might not have heard Bowser cry out. Bowser asks how Luigi is going to get home now, since it's so late the subway isn't running anymore, and Luigi says "I'll... I'll figure something out." Bowser calls one of his people and makes them give Luigi a ride. It's awkward for everyone.

The next day a tow truck shows up to take the Mario Bros' van to a mechanic. They're like "we didn't order this??" and the driver just says it was paid for in advance. Luigi realizes what happened and, thinking about the bad blood between Mario and Bowser, tells him the client last night was really grateful for him working late. Mario says they should thank him and Luigi says he definitely will.

So he goes to see Bowser, who is still laid up with a broken foot, and brings him a fruit basket. Bowser is like, I will absolutely eat this fruit but fixing the van was supposed to be payment for Luigi's help. He doesn't like feeling indebted. And Luigi says it was too much! There must be something Luigi can do to thank him properly.

Well... there's this stupid local businessman dinner that Bowser really didn't want to go to. Having somebody to talk to will make it more bearable. Luigi says sure, and the day of the dinner Bowser picks him up two hours early to go out and buy him a suit. Top to bottom, shoes and all. Luigi is a little offended Bowser didn't think he had nice enough clothes... but once they get to the venue and see what everyone else is wearing he can admit he did not have nice enough clothes.

The dinner goes well. Luigi IS a local businessman and nobody questions what he's doing there, even if they haven't heard of his company. Talking with Bowser is surprisingly easy, especially since plumbing and demolition have enough overlap that they can chat about work without having to explain much. They have a lot of similar gripes about clients and contracts and tools.

After a pretty nice evening and maybe one too many glasses of wine, it's all too easy to forget this wasn't supposed to be a date-date and fall into bed with Bowser. When Luigi gets home, rumpled and dressed in clothes he didn't leave in, Mario just congratulates him on what looks like a successful night.

A few days later there's a delivery. A brand new set of the power tools Luigi had mentioned he daydreamed about. Luigi calls Bowser and says this is too much, he can't accept it, and Bowser just says, "keep 'em or throw 'em out, I'm not taking them back. Already wrote them off as a business expense."

Luigi keeps them, but he can't explain this one away. He tells Mario that the person he went out with last week is... from a different socio-economic bracket. (Mario is not allowed to judge, Peach pays for most of their dates too.) They both avoid using the S-D words, but Mario says he feels too weird accepting work equipment from a stranger. Better tell the guy to stick to personal gifts.

So with something like brotherly approval, Luigi starts dating Bowser. He gets clothes, a new phone, fancy dinners and nights at expensive hotels. Bowser is not a bad date (except for when he is) but Luigi always feels a little weird knowing that their relationship is transactional. Even though Bowser clearly likes him and wants to make him happy, Luigi feels like he can't speak up about Bowser being demanding or talking down to people. Because if he's not agreeable enough Bowser will just find somebody new.

Meanwhile, Bowser has NO IDEA that Luigi thinks this. Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that his affection is a burden. He hasn't thought about this enough to put it into words, but he feels like he needs to reward people for being around him or they'll leave. He's not even trying to be a sugar daddy, he treats all of the (few) people he loves like this.

It's not until they've been dating long enough for Luigi to meet Bowser's son that anything changes. Luigi immediately sees that Bowser is pulling the old "new toys make up for not actually being around, right?" and can't stop himself from telling him that NO it does NOT make up for it. Your son wants your TIME.

He's extremely surprised when Bowser listens. And after Luigi tells him that asking Junior about his day and his hobbies will make him feel more cared about, Bowser starts making an effort to ask Luigi those things too.

Eventually he starts to think that... maybe? Bowser has just been romantically incompetent this whole time? So he tests it, and the next time Bowser tries to demand he take a week off to go on a boring business trip with him, Luigi (calmly but firmly) says that he can't possibly miss that much work but Bowser can call and talk to him every day. Bowser goes for it. He actually seems really excited that Luigi is "allowing" him to have so much of his attention.

Oof. Now Luigi feels bad.

After a couple more weeks of trying to wean Bowser off buying his affection (except paying the phone bill because Luigi seriously couldn't afford to do that himself) Luigi asks Bowser if he can officially call them boyfriends?

Bowser practically falls all over himself to agree. Everything is good, they understand each other, Luigi even has his own section in Bowser's closet. He could see this relationship lasting for the rest of his life.

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell his brother...

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi #bowuigi au #modern au #super mario bros #bowluigi #bowigi #luwser #green shell

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copperbadge · 7 months

Note

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month #digital cleaning

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kanmom51 · 10 months

Text

JM live 1 September 2023 20:54 or 8:54 pm KST

And a little bit about JK's same day live as well.

Part 1

Cr./The creators of the media used in this post.

So we got a live from JK at the start of the day. 12:55 am or 00:55 KST, and from JM in the evening, at 20:55 or 8:54 pm KST.

One opening the days birthday celebrations (or was he?) and the other closing them (in a sense).

Do we have numbers working for the two?

Let's see.

JK's live:

Super easy. Add the 1+2+5+5=13. Then add 0+0+5+5=10.

What?

13/10.

So we get JK's special day with JM's special day. How sweet.

JM's live: Add the 2+0+5+4=11. Then add the 8+5+4=17 and down to a single digit: 1+7=8.

Guess what we get.

8/11

And if you want just a little bit more utilize the date:

1/9/23

1+9+2+3=15

and Ta-dah...

8/11/15

Oh, and if it's numbers we are talking about, and if anyone has any kind of doubt that numbers mean so so much to JM and JK, well here's another little doozy.

JM's watch. Yes, the tens of thousands of dollars worth watch he was wearing during the live.

*Screenshot taken at 3:20 min. mark.

It's a little hard to see, but the time on his watch looks to be around the 3:27 mark.

I want to remind you that JM started his live at 8:54 pm KST. JM has been in SK for months and you would think his watch would be set to KST, no?

Screen shot at 8:24 min.

Screenshot of watch at 32:56 min. mark.

Deduct the live time stamp at every one of those given moments from the time on the watch and you will go back to 3:23/4.

Why, you may ask, am I making such a big deal about this?

Well, my dear friends, this is why:

JK's time of birth tattoo, just to remind you.

JK's time of birth being 3:23-24.

Did JM set his watch to start the live at 3:23-24? JK's birth time?

Wait, but that's not the end of it.

Because JM's watch is also of significance.

Launched in 1997.

What in the effing hell?

Like, if you have another explanation please do explain!!!

Watch not working? Nope, it is, time counting as the live goes on, all from the 3:23 mark.

Coincidence? Again? That his watch happens to be set at JK's birth time, and it also, by chance, being one launched same year JK was born? JK, who's birthday happens to be on that specific day? The person who JM tells us to wish happy birthday and that it's a "wonderful day"?

Please don't continue to say this is all a coincidence. Setting your watch to a time that happens to be JK's birth time, something we have been told in the past, something that JK tattooed on his own body, hence being of significance to him, and most obviously of significance to JM as well.

JM and JK might not be saying the words out loud, but shit, they sure are being as loud as hell about what they are to each other!!!

Ok, so I mentioned in passing JK's live. His almost 9 minute live. His totally out of character shorter than short live, even more so when we are talking about a birthday live. No cake. No candles. No playlist (he told us this was just the music that he left on when he left earlier and it's still playing). No patience, lol. He came, he said hi, he told us he was out with friends he was practicing with (wonder if the reason he came live is to explain who with and why he was out and about...), said he's suffering from insomnia and he has to sleep. Did a card trick...MAGIC... Lol, and ducked. Like even his goodbye was super super short. Now, you could say he had a tight schedule, which he does, and that he has to sleep, which he does. But JK was definitley not on his way to bed when he was doing that live, nor shortly after. He was happy and super hyped, and in NO WAY shape or form about to go to bed at that point.

We need to remember that when they say they have a schedule, it's not a 9 to 5 job. Many a times their days start at noon and later and they keep on working into the early hours of the morning. That is the nature of their work. So having a tight schedule doesn't necessarily mean he has to be up at 7 or 8 am and off to the company or wherever he needs to be in the morning.

You could claim he was excited because it was his birthday, and perhaps you would be right. But if it was the end of his night, then excited what for? Bed? Where he struggles to fall asleep? Nah, I don't think so.

So yeah, I think you know where I'm going with this.

Only that this time we didn't get a photo because there was no one around to buffer.

2019 JM flies back to Seoul to celebrate JK's birthday with him. 2020 JM was with JK on his birthday eve. 2021 we don't know, they didn't tell us, we got a selfie the next day in the safety of the company - not the two together alone at JK's or JM's. 2022 JM was also with JK on his birthday eve. We got to see and hear about it just after JK's birthday, and we had Jhope there as a buffer. Why buffer? So that god forbid they aren't spending his birthday eve alone at his place, especially if it's happening year after year after year, cause you know, people would say it means nothing but at the same time it means everything.

I'm going to say it out loud, and shoot me (not literally) if you wish, but this is a hill I am willing to die on. JK wrote his birthday message and very possibly was not planning to go live that night. Perhaps he did come live because of the photos that came out of him with the fans and the info about him being out and about that night. But for whatever reason JK did go live that night it was always going to be short and sweet. And I do believe that is because he had something else planned which is not going to sleep.

I do believe whatever he had planned was with JM. Period. That's what JK was anticipating, that's what he was excited and happy for, that's why he came for a couple of secs and jolted off.

And for those that are already running to the comments screaming "but JM said he only spoke with JK the day before his birthday to wish him happy birthday" I say: hold your horses, I will most definitley get to it and explain to y'all exactly how JM did not say that by no means. Take a breath, be patient, read on, you'll see why JM said no such thing.

The two of the men having the live the same day.

It kind of felt weird that of all days JM goes live on JK's birthday. Well, maybe weird isn't the right word, but curious is more fitting.

JM wanted to come live for some time now. He says that. But then why, of all days, choose this one?

JM himself tells us he wasn't planning to go live from home that day (while on his way to fetch the mood lamp to show us).

Both lives feel unplanned, rushed and unprepared. There. I said it.

Did either of them even plan to do these lives? Or, perhaps they were a consequence of circumstances? JK wanting to clarify his outing (knowing how this fandom rolls). And JM... why JM? Well, maybe there was actually a birthday live planned? Could that be? One at the company? Us finally getting a Jikook live? Or even just a proper JK live at the company with a cake and all? But JK's schedule ran later than expected maybe? Hence one boyfie coming to the rescue and going live in his stead?

All of the above is questions, queries, possible explanations as to why JM decided to go live from home on JK's birthday, even though he himself tells us this was not the plan. I don't have the answer to these questions, but it definitley does have me wondering.

Will continue this discussion with regards to JM later on in my post.

Let's get to talking about JM's live. Starting by his opening pic.

I have to tell you that first thought I had when seeing the photo was "is that JK?". The frame wasn't right, but the outfit most definitely was, lol.

And guess what?

He's wearing pants for the boys new favourite brand. I guess JM's the one wearing the pants in the house, lol. But then, are they his? They do seem a little on the bigger size.

So, first 17 minutes or so to the live JM talks a bit about not coming live for a while and how he wanted and yet didn't because he's been going through a bit of a personal journey. Not doing well enough in his March promotions, in his mind, had him frustrated and unhappy with himself. Him wanting to restart rather than fix what he feels might be lacking. Kind of resetting himself per say as an artist? In any case he's been doing a lot of introspection. I guess I've mentioned that already, lol. The feeling I got from what he was telling us is that he himself didn't know how to explain what he wanted to tell us. His words not thoroughly thought out, perhaps another sign as to him going live unprepared and before properly thinking out what he wanted to tell us.

JM talks about being at the Dior event. Being nervous and awkward. Also wanting to thank fans that came to see him.

JM is asked multiple times about his hands. Oh my, those hands.

And when I say multiple times, I mean MULTIPLE times, lol. And JM keeps reading those comments and keeps answering again and again and again that it's a scrape from him working out, doesn't hurt, not to worry. At one point, after he is talking about JK's birthday, telling us it's a wonderful day, lovely smile on his face, and asked yet again, he 'bites back' (if you can call if bite back, lol), telling the commenter to look for it later (as in go watch the live from the start when it's over and they will find out).

Is this the right time to discuss JM talking about JK's birthday?

I think it is.

At around the 18 minute stamp time this goes down:

He says Jungkookie, btw.

From the moment he said JK is very busy (he looks at the camera) and up to this point, when he talks about JK's health, not once does JM look at the camera. His eyes were all over the place. And that includes not looking at the camera when he said "I talked to him on the telephone yesterday too".

Remember this?

@dgtn brought this to my attention. JM's eye movement in this part of the live reminds of his eye movement while thinking just before he goes for the kill with JK and the "did you answer them".

Here's JM talking about Jungkookie's birthday. Look at his eyes.

(But that smile at the end...)

JM was definitely deep in thought as to what to say, how to word what he wanted to say for JK's birthday.

Several things to note.

Where to start?

I guess I'll start from the obvious.

People jumping on the wagon: "JM didn't see JK on his birthday. He said so. He said he talked to him yesterday...(to wish him happy birthday?)".

Me, I'm calling the bull.

And I will explain it to you too (foreshadowing).

JM, as usual, is very precise how he words what he wants to say.

His words in this instance:

He mentions JK's birthday today, tells us he's very busy and then says "I talked to him on the phone yesterday too..." and back to "he's really busy..."

"I talked to him on the phone yesterday too..."

Let's take this apart, why don't we?

JM spoke with JK on the phone.

The conversation happened yesterday.

What did they talk about? He doesn't tell us. But mentioning JK being busy before he talks about the phone call and after he talks about the phone call. It feels like this is what he is telling us they spoke about.

So far so good, right?

And then we have two words/things said/or not said that are EVERYTHING here.

One word that he says, the other something that is not said and, at least to me, is super loud and super important and was omitted purposefully.

First word is "too".

I talked to him yesterday too...

TOO.

Leaving the context of the sentence open to interpretation.

Could be any of these:

I talked to him yesterday too just like I speak to him every day?

I talked to him yesterday too because I spoke to him today as well?

I talked to him yesterday too because I was also seeing him later on as well to celebrate his birthday with him?

As for what was missing, well to me it was quite obvious.

JM does not tell us that he wished JK happy birthday.

There was no "I talked to him yesterday too and wished him happy birthday".

JM makes sure to tell us he spoke with JK yesterday (which is not on JK's birthday). Makes sure to add the TOO, but forgets to say that's also when he wished him happy birthday? I think not.

JM is super measured. He is so very careful in what he says and how he says it, especially when it comes to JK. This man not saying it means the words were added or omitted on purpose. And not telling us he wished JK happy birthday in that phone call, well, makes it clear that the phone call in question was definitley not the end of it. Because there is no way in hell that JM would not wish JK happy birthday personally (not via an IG post that JK wouldn't see anyway not being on IG).

Since when would JM not wish JK happy birthday? The man is telling us to wish JK happy birthday, telling us it's a wonderful day, setting his watch to JK's birth time. The man that flew back from Paris to be with JK on his birthday. And also let us know he did it. He wouldn't have wished JK happy birthday himself? And this man wouldn't tell us so either?

Nah. This is JM telling us he spoke with JK, something he does all the time, and that the conversation he's talking about has nothing to do with JK's birthday.

And yeah, by omitting that he's also letting us know that he had another opportunity, one he isn't letting us in on, in which he got to wish JK happy birthday.

PERIOD!

JM talking about JK looking after his health. The way those two worry about each other.

Did I mention the pause as JM finishes talking about JK? It being a wonderful day? The smile on his face?

Oh, and JK mentions JK's birthday once more at the end of the live as well when summing up the live.

Thank you JM for reminding us once more it's JK's birthday and that it was one of those things in your live worth mentioning in your own recap of the live.

Now, I know that there are idiots that are dragging Mingyu for saying he met JK yesterday (on his birthday) and ate with him.

Well, dragging Mingyu on the one hand for what? Saying he met up with his friend on his birthday? That by doing so he was dissing JM? And others, on the other hand, using this, very stupidly, to prove that a busy JK would rather meet up with Mingyu than with JM.

Are we forgetting what JM told us? Well, JK too? That JK is super busy? Most likely in the Hybe building. You know, where Mingyu also comes to work, being in Seventeen, another Hybe band. Could they have met up at Hybe? Of course they could have. Could they even maybe have met up for a meal break at Hybe? Of course they could have. Mingyu was doing the live in a company car, probably on his way home from work looking super tired. So yeah. Chances are that they met at Hybe.

And as for JM, well, you already know where I stand on that one.

JM and JK most definitely saw each other on JK's birthday. Most likely right after JK's live.

Ok, this one is getting a little too long. So I think I'll leave you all here at the moment, let it all sink in, and come back with a part 2 that will include our little house tour and a few more interesting points - well for me at least, lol.

To be continued...

#Jimin #JM #JM live #JM Weverse live #Jungkook #JK #JK birthday #JK birthday 2023 #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook

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otdiaftg · 4 months

Text

The King's Men - Chapter Twelve

Day: Saturday, March 9th / 10th* Time: 1:45 AM EST

"I know your father's going to ask, but I have to know now," Lola says. "You listening, Junior? Hey." She thumps his back with the hilt of her knife. "Where's the bird, hm? We've had some time to dig around since we figured out where you were, but there's no sign of her anywhere. Tetsuji says you told them she's dead. He was sure you were telling the truth. Me, I'm not so trusting." "She's dead," Neil chokes out. Lola grabs a fistful of hair to yank him upright. She'd put her knife aside so she can hold him with both hands, and her free hand clenches around his throat so tight he can barely breathe. She pulls him back against his chair, pinning his head to the headrest. Romero plucks the lighter out again, and Neil puts up a desperate fight. "She's dead," he says, almost wheezing through Lola's brutal grip. "She died two years ago after he beat her in Seattle. Do you think she'd have let me go to Palmetto if she was still alive? I signed up because I had nothing left." "Do we believe him?" Lola asks Romero. "Might as well be sure," Romero says. "Right that," Lola says, and holds fast to Neil so Romero can crush the lighter to his face once more. Lola's strangling grip on his throat means the best Neil can manage is a pained whine. He thrashes mindlessly against his restraints. Lola is speaking again, but he can't understand her over the roar in his ears. His world narrows down to the fire in his face. Romero puts the lighter away, but he pushes it in all the way so it'll reheat. Lola loosens her grip enough that Neil can breathe but doesn't let go completely. "Try again, Junior," Lola says. "Answer me and make me believe you. Where is Mary?" "She's dead," Neil says, voice raw with pain. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead." Lola looks to her brother. "You believe him now?" Romero lifts his shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. Lola considers Neil again, then smacks his burned face as hard as she can. She leans further forward between the seats to get the lighter when it is ready and retreats back to her original cushion with it. Having the lighter behind him out of sight is worse than the pain they'd already put him through and Neil fights to yank his hands free. He tears his wrists open on unyielding metal but he can't stop. "Don't," he begs. "Lola, don't." "I've got questions," Lola says, voice oddly muffled. Neil guesses she is holding the lighter handle between her lips, because she uses both hands to roll his sleeves up. She runs her hands down his bared forearms, fingernails scratching faintly at his skin. She withdrawals a moment later, and her voice sounds normal when she speaks next. "Let's start with your teammates again. Tell me everything you told them."

Art used with permission by Esklinray. Thank you @esklinray!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

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likeadevils · 1 year

Text

Speak Now Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Speak Now in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also added a few other songs she wrote while writing Speak Now and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

Due to a surprising amount of digital decay and her life not being highly documented yet, exact dates are bit harder to come by then they are with following albums, but you can still find a few! I’ve added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but everything points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

More notes: I will probably be editing it as information about vault songs and new details about old songs get come out, so it probably won’t be finished until July, so check back in with this post and/or follow me if you want updates. Most tweet dates come from crawling through the wayback machine, but if you want further sourcing, feel free me an ask/dm.

Without further ado...

Sparks Fly: Late 2006 (Inferring)

Taylor opened up for Jake Owen on October 31, 2006 In Portland, Oregon (the secret message for the song), and wrote Sparks Fly about the experience shortly after. I’ve seen a few second hand sources say she wrote it on the airplane ride back to Nashville later that same night, but I can’t find Taylor herself saying that, so it might just be an old fandom legend, or the source has been lost to digital decay, or I just haven’t looked hard enough. She first performs the song in May 29, 2007.

Haunted: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "Haunted" is about the moment that you realize the person you're in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don't know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it's fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you're realizing that he's kind of falling out of love. That's a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through, because the whole time you're trying to tell yourself it's not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing this song about it.

February 17, 2009: Tweets "It's 3:58 am in London.. And I accidentally fell asleep at 6:30 pm, so now I'm wide awake and have no idea what to do. Write a song?"

It’s possible that this was what Taylor was referring to when she said she “ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing [Haunted]”, but it’s also very possible that Taylor didn’t write a song on February 17, and waking up in the middle of the night and writing a song is not a rare occurrence in Taylor’s life, so one tweet doesn’t really prove anything.

March 13, 2009: Tweets "A day off in Sydney. Drove two hours out of the city and spent the day on the beach. Wrote a chorus you'll hear on the next record. :)"

Pure speculation, but I think she was working on Mr. Perfectly Fine. It was created in 2009, and in my opinion, of the possible songs it has the most notable chorus.

March 19, 2009: Posts on Myspace “I’m wiped out. I’ve been in the studio all day ( I know, I know.. We JUST put out a new album. I think I have a problem, I cannot stop writing songs.) It’s so much fun knowing that you can take your time, because you have like a year and a half to make something you’re really proud of. I love recording a few songs, waiting a few months, recording a few more.. Instead of devoting a few weeks to “record the album” and then it’s just done. I like dragging it out, that way you can be meticulous about every detail. Daydream about different ways to put the songs together, and then take them apart. I’m pretty obsessed with the whole process. So needless to say, it was good to be back in the studio with my redheaded producer who I missed terribly.”

If This Was A Movie: April 2009 (Inferring)

Taylor has literally never talked about this song, but April would be six months after and Joe Jonas broke up in late September/early October 2008.

April 24, 2009: Taylor plays in Jonesboro, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [likely Enchanted], that would happen again in Boston [likely Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

May 23, 2009: Taylor records Half Of My Heart with John Mayer

On March 1, 2009: John Mayer tweeted: “Waking up to this song idea that won’t leave my head. 3 days straight now. That means it’s good enough to finish. It’s called Half of My Heart and I want to sing it with Taylor Swift. She would make a killer Stevie Nicks in contrast to my Tom Petty of a song.” On May 23, John Mayer tweeted "I couldn't get Taylor Swift on my record so I found the world's greatest impersonator, Laura Jacksheimer" with a picture of Taylor.

Superman: Spring 2009 (Speculation)

This could have been written any time in 2009, but due to it's general sound and the following quote, I’d guess it was written sometime in spring, when her and John Mayer first started working together. Taylor: “This was a guy that I was sort of enamored with, as usual. This song got its title by something that I just kinda said randomly in conversation. He walked out of the room, I looked over at one of my friends and said, ‘Man, It’s just like watching Superman fly away.’”

May 29, 2009: Posts on Myspace “Tomorrow, after the performance on the Today show, I’ll fly back to Nashville and record a lot of new songs I’ve written in the last few weeks. I’m really excited about that.” (She also posts "Tonight I went shopping at Top Shop in New York with the band. I got purple shoes. I’m really excited about the purple shoes, and I just needed to tell someone. I got purple shoes. Ok. That’s done." Which. If I had a nickel for everytime Taylor teased her new album by posting about shoe colors I'd have two nickels, which isnt a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

June 4, 2009: Posts on Facebook "In the studio. I don't know whose computer I'm using. Pssh.. Such a rebel right now.."

June 9, 2009: Tweets (about recording Thug Story) "If I said I was in the studio with T-Pain, would you believe me?"

Better Than Revenge and Let’s Go (Battle): June 2009 (Inferring)

These were probably written sometime between June 12, when the Jonas Brothers released “Much Better”, and July 1, when Taylor posted on Myspace: “What else is new.. Recording a bunch of new songs. Lots of new things to write about…..”

Last Kiss: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "The song "Last Kiss" is sort of like a letter to somebody. You say all of these desperate, hopeless feelings that you have after a breakup. Going through a breakup you feel all of these different things. You feel anger, and you feel confusion, and frustration. Then there is the absolute sadness. The sadness of losing this person, losing all the memories, and the hopes you had for the future. There are times when you have this moment of truth where you just admit to yourself that you miss all these things. When I was in one of those moments I wrote this song."

July 22, 2009: Tweets "Hanging with my producer Nathan, discussing the next adventure" and then in a separate tweet "...album #3."

Never Grow Up: Fall 2009 (Speculation)

Lover Diary Nathan Chapman: "The song 'Never Grow Up' is just she singing and I on acoustic guitar. We recorded ourselves live. That song probably happened in two hours." This could’ve been written at any time in 2009, but I put it here because she bought her Nashville apartment sometime before October.

September 8, 2009: Tweeted "Last night in nash before heading out tomorrow for 4 shows, then VMA's. But right now I can't put the guitar down."

September 13, 2009: VMAs Incident

Enchanted: September 15, 2009 (Confirmed)

On September 15, Taylor attended an Owl City Concert in New York Taylor: "It was about this guy that I met in New York City, and I had talked to him on email or something before, but I had never met him. And meeting him, it was this overwhelming feeling of: I really hope that you're not in love with somebody. And the whole entire way home, I remember the glittery New York City buildings passing by, and then just sitting there thinking, am I ever going to talk to this person again? And that pining away for a romance that may never even happen, but all you have is this hope that it could, and the fear that it never will. I started writing that in the hotel room when I got back. Because it just was this positive, wistful feeling of: I hope you understand just how much I loved meeting you. I hope that you know that meeting you was not something that I took lightly, or just in passing. And I think my favorite part of that song is the part where, in the bridge, it goes to sort of a stream of consciousness of ‘Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you.' Because at that moment, that's exactly what my thoughts were. And it feels good to write exactly what your thoughts were in a certain moment.”

September 26, 2009: Taylor plays in Little Rock, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [Enchanted & Back To December], that would happen again in Boston [Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

October 17, 2009: Tweets "Travis: you look so out of it. Me: I'm writing a song in my head. Travis: oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were working."

November 30, 2009: Tweets "If I had a dime for every time my producer and I blurt out the same thing at the same time, followed by an awkward, uncoordinated high five..."

Ours: December 6, 2009 (Inferring)

Myspace Post on December 6: “I just got back to Nashville this morning after being in LA all week. Today I was out and about and in the studio all day” Taylor: "I wrote this when I was about to turn 20. I was in a relationship I knew people wouldn't approve of, and it was just a matter of time before everyone found out. When you're first getting to know someone, it's a fragile time, and then you add newspapers and magazine covers and it can get kind of rough. I wanted to have this song to play for him when it got difficult. Singing it for him was one of the sweetest moments I can remember."

December 22, 2009: Tweets "I was writing a song and my pen fell into the piano. Still trying to figure out if I should do anything about this."

January 2010: Starts polishing up the demos made in 2009 into fully produced tracks

Billboard: "Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce." Nathan Chapman: "We stripped it down and made the demos first. Taylor came to my studio and I played all the instruments on the demos, and because I have a good vocal booth, her demo vocals ended up being the vocals you hear on the record. After finishing the demos, we went out to different studios, and tried different combinations of engineers and musicians to replace some of the elements of my demos, mostly the programmed drums, and to do additional overdubs. [...] A pop artist would probably release what we'd done after five hours, but country artists don't want to hear programmed drums, they don't want to hear fake stuff. So once we had recorded the demos, we would book whatever studio we wanted for each song, to replace the drums, in many cases the bass, and to add whatever overdubs we envisioned, like fiddle, keyboards, percussion and strings. After we got the demos right, we opened it up and allowed ourselves to spend money and cut a big record." Taylor tweets on January 11: "Studio-ness with all the same boys who played on Fearless" and on January 13: "More recording. So excited. So excited. So excited. See, I said that three times. Once for every album we've made in this studio."

January 13, 2010: Posts on Myspace “Thank you January. I have had this month off. I have walked on snow-covered grass and discovered new coffee shops and laughed hysterically with friends about things that probably weren’t technically funny. I’ve written songs on napkins and sat at a giant table with my whole family on my mother’s birthday, all of us in one place for the first time in too long. I’ve gotten to take what has happened to me and process it to my full capability, and celebrate it the way it deserved to be celebrated. I’ve made new music. I’ve gone over the memories and jumped up and down with my producer and floated around with nothing on my schedule other than just appreciating what my life has somehow turned into. [...] Getting back in the studio with the same guys I trust and know and love.. (right, the pointing one: my producer Nathan Chapman) (Left, the waving one: Bass extraorinaire, Tim Marks. Clearly marked on his road case.) [...] Nick Buddha is in charge of the drums.”

February 22, 2010: Posts on Myspace "I’ve been writing lots of songs"

February 13, 2010: Writes in her diary "I’ve been obsessing over the new album. I always do that until it’s just right. I don’t know if I have the formula just right for this one yet. I know there are great songs. I just need to figure out the strands that bond them together into a great album. And I will obsess until it’s there. This album, any album, is the next 2 years of my life. It has to be more than amazing. It has to be great enough to keep my attention for 2 years."

Mine: March 10-12 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:17): "I wrote Mine somewhere on the road, I think in Texas, actually." Nathan Chapman: "The demo for 'Mine' apparently took less than five hours to record, and sounded, according to Chapman, "almost identical to the record. After that we worked on the track for another four months, off and on, and spent $30,000 to make sure it sounded perfect in the real world."" Taylor: "This song is the first single because it has this…there was this moment between Nathan and I, my producer, when I brought this song in and when we made this demo in one day in his basement and we just kinda looked at each other and we were like, "This is it. This is the one. All of the times that I've had "The Moment" with songs of "This is the one," it's been a good call, so I'm hoping for the best on this one. Wish me luck." Scott Borchetta: "Mine" was a turning point in the album’s development. Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce. Swift presented "Mine" to Borchetta in his office [...] "We probably played that song four or five times," Borchetta recalls. "I’m jumping around playing air guitar, she’s singing the song back to me, and it was just one of those crazy, fun, Taylor teen-age moments."

March 13, 2010: Taylor records Mine, brings it to Scott Borchetta, and says she’s done with TS3

Scott Borchetta: "I said, ‘Keep going,’ [...] She kind of looked at me like, ‘You’re challenging me.’ And I said, ‘Yeah. You’ve found true north here. Keep going.’ " Taylor: “During Speak Now, when I went to (label head) Scott Borchetta and said, 'The album’s finished,’ he said, 'No, it’s not – you need to keep writing.’” (Right after playing in Texas, Taylor leaves for a vacation in the Bahamas, meaning Taylor likely had about a day in Nashville between the two trips).

Innocent: Late March 2010 (Inferring)

Billboard: “It was some time in the period after that challenge — between February and June — that Swift wrote “Innocent,” her response to the Kanye West incident.” Taylor: “Some songs take 30 minutes to write, and some take six months, which was the case with “Innocent.” When things affect me intensely and really hit me hard, it can take a while to figure out what I think about it and what to say about it.” (March would be just over 6 months since the VMAs).

March 24, 2010: Taylor goes lunch with Taylor Lautner and both of their publicists, inspiring Back To December.

Taylor: Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."

Speak Now: Early April, 2010 (Inferring)

On April 3, Taylor attended the wedding of Josh Farro as Hayley Williams (who is Josh's ex) plus one. That day she also tweeted: ""Nathan you smell really good! Is that a new cologne?" "Thanks! Actually it's a two in one shampoo and soap. From Dial." My producer rules." implying she was in the studio. The conversation below could have happened any day after the VMA awards in September, when Hayley first reached out to Taylor, but I think Taylor probably wrote the song fairly close to naming the album after it. Taylor: "This song was inspired by one of my friends who was telling me about her childhood sweetheart, crush guy. They were kind of together in high school and went their separate ways, and it was kind of understood that they were gonna get back together. Then, she one day comes in and tells me he's getting married. He had met this girl who was just this mean person who made him completely stop talking to all of his friends, cut off his family, had him like so completely isolated. And I just, kind of randomly, was like, "So, you gonna speak now?" She was like, "What do you mean?" And I was like "Oh, you know, like storm the church, speak now or forever hold your peace? I'll go with you. I'll play guitar. It would be great." She was just kind of laughing, and later on I just was wrapping my mind around that idea of how tragic it would be if someone you loved was marrying somebody else. Later I had a dream about one of my ex-boyfriends getting married, and it just all came together that I needed to write this song about interrupting a wedding. For me, I like to think of it as good versus evil, and this girl is so completely painted as the evil one. So this is "Speak Now.""

April 13, 2010: Names TS3 Speak Now

Lover Diaries: "So I’ve been obsessing over the new record to the point where it’s all I can focus on. I’m majorly stressed and borderline losing it, with all these lists and chronic dissatisfaction. Perfectionist-ness. I keep growing tired of songs because I know I’ve raised the bar and I can beat half the songs. Scott and I had lunch the other day. We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany. I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last 2 years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now. Scott freaked out. He loved it. We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!" Scott Borchetta: ""At one point, the record was not called ‘Speak Now.’ It was called ‘Enchanted,’ [...] We were at lunch, and she had played me a bunch of the new songs. I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Taylor, this record isn’t about fairy tales and high school anymore. That’s not where you’re at. I don’t think the record should be called "Enchanted."’” Swift excused herself from the table at that point. By the time she came back, she had the "Speak Now" title"

Dear John: Spring 2010 (Speculation)

This was likely written sometime after February 2010 (Taylor implies she's single in her vlog and her diary). Beyond that, it could have been anytime between February and June 2010.

Brief Interruption: The next two songs (Back to December and Mean) are going to use quotes from this interview that @1989worldtour found. If you've already listened to the interview attached to the Mine section, then it's the same interview

Back To December: Early May, 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:12): "Back to December was written in New York City. Taylor was in New York city from May 3-5, and May 12-15 2010. she was not photographed in New York any other time in early 2010, and given her busy touring schedule, I doubt she was in New York at another time. USA TODAY: “Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."”

Mean: May 29, 2010 (Speculation)

Taylor (above interview, about 6 minutes in): "I started this song called Mean on my, like sitting on my kitchen counter, just playing it, and then, you know, took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night and finished it in the dressing room." Now, this may be a too literal interpretation of "took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night," but if we want to theorize: the only tour date (that Taylor could've conceivably written Mean during) without another show right before or after it was in Baton Rogue on May 29, 2010.

Long Live: June 2010 (Confirmed)

Lover Diary She likely wrote this around June 5, when she ended the Fearless Tour at Gillette Stadium (Wikipedia counts two festivals as being part of the Fearless Tour but Taylor doesn't, so I'm going with her opinion), since she said that she wrote a song for Speak Now in Boston (which is the closest major city to Gillette)

The Story Of Us: June 9-16, 2010 (Confirmed)

Taylor attended the CMT Awards (Which goes on to be the secret message for The Story Of Us) on June 9 and was sat very close to John Mayer. Taylor: "The people closest to me are used to me deserting a conversation and bolting into some corner of the room with my phone out, hunched over, singing some melody or lyric or hook into my phone. I wrote “The Story of Us” about running into an ex at an awards show, and I came home and sat down at a kitchen table and told my mom, “I felt like I was standing alone in a crowded room.” She tried to console me, but I was gone at that point." Lover Diary: "So I’ve been a little studio rat since the tour ended [...] Ever since, I wake up to my cell phone alarm around 9:30 each morning. Throw on a sundress, skip make up, tie my hair in a messy side braid, and head out the door with no shoes on. Because the only walking outside I’ll be doing is from my house to my car, then from my car, three steps to Nathan’s basement studio. [...] I worked on a song for a few days, then basically finished it in the car on the way to Nathan’s this morning. It. Is. So. Good. And I can safely say I am DONE writing this record!! This song is up-tempo, and hooky and sort of torn-sounding … like this horrible stressed confusion that comes on when you knew the person you’re pining away for is in the room. And for some reason, there are these invisible walls keeping things from being ok. So you’re not fine. And they’re not fine. And I’m so happy I wrote that song!! Footage of Taylor working on TSOU

June 30, 2010: Taylor tweets “@amosjheller is SLAYING a bass part in the studio right now. http://twitpic.com/21am7t”

Footage Nathan Chapman: “We tried several bassists until we had a bass part that worked, which was played by Amos Heller, of Taylor's live band. In Nashville, it's rare for a road musician to be on the record, but he earned his way into this record by kicking ass. In fact, all Taylor's road musicians played some parts on the album, which was important for me and her.”

July 15, 2010: The orchestra for Back To December and Haunted are recorded (footage here, same outfit as these candids)

Taylor (talking about Haunted): “I wanted the music and the orchestration to reflect the intensity of the emotion the song is about, so we recorded strings with Paul Buckmaster at Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. It was an amazing experience - recording this entire big, live string section that I think in the end really captured the intense, chaotic feeling of confusion I was looking for."

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #if this deletes again i might actually delete my account #let me know if theres a typo or anything my eyes are glazing over

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