#my brain holds so many thoughts about steven

[romanarose]

Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me &lt;3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

[pimosworld]

So Blue

Club Blue Jones x f!Reader Jake Lockley x f!Reader

This is a fic based on this post by @thedarkcoven and @melodygatesauthor

Summary- Jake comes to his cousin Blue’s aide in a time of need but finds something he needs much more.

CW-NSFW,18+ MDNI,Explicit, dub con,non con, Blue owns a Brothel and reader is a sex worker. Degrading comments,possessive Blue,possessive Jake, hints of yandere Jake, cursing, kissing, angst, innocence kink,fingering,oral sex female receiving, unprotected piv,anal,anal cream pie,dacryphilia,cum eating, orgasm denial,kidnapping.A hint of Steven and Marc if you squint.

WC-3k

A/N-Please do not read if this is not for you, this is a safe space to explore things outside of the normal world. If I forgot any tag warnings feel free to comment.

Not beta read

Your hands are shaking as you make your way down the hall to Blue’s office. You were only called into the office for two reasons, when Blue was feeling possessive and needed to let off some steam. He would bend you over his desk for what felt like hours, ramming his thick cock into you. Your screams of pleasure would echo down the hall for all his men to hear. 

  The other reason which usually resulted in the same outcome was that you’re in trouble. Each time brought a flutter of nerves and excitement, your brain can’t decide how to feel about Blue. He was so wrong and fucked up in so many ways, yet he could be so sweet when he wanted to. Keeping you right where he wanted, in limbo with your own body. 

  You stand in front of the door taking slow deep breaths as you smooth your hands down your barely there skirt and adjust your tie front crop top. Blue made you wear these clothes if you could call them that. You slowly open the door and you’re hit with a strong musky scent, like Blue’s but there’s something different there. You see the back of a man’s head seated in front of Blue’s desk, your heart slams in your chest at the thought of interrupting a meeting.

  So stupid you should have knocked 

  You’re turning on your heel faster than you can register. 

  “Where are you going sweetheart.” His voice stops you in your tracks and you turn to see Blue uncharacteristically smiling at you. He motions come here with his fingers and you’re at his side in an instant. He places a firm hand on the small of your back as he faces you towards the man in the chair. Your breath catches in your throat as you're met with venomous eyes and a grim expression. He’s staring at you but he’s looking at your eyes, something most men don’t do.

  You can smell it now the difference it’s fresh leather, his jacket and gloves in pristine condition. He definitely cares about his appearance, it seems just as much as Blue. Something about him was so familiar and you don’t even notice how long you’ve been staring at each other until a tight squeeze on your hip brings you back. 

  “This is my cousin Jake, he’s gonna be here for a few days to keep an eye on some things for me.”

  “Jake, this is my number one girl.” He smacks your ass eliciting a yelp from you and you can’t look at the man in front of you. Your face grows hot at the display he’s showing in front of this man who certainly peaked your curiosity. 

  “What’s your na-.”

  “Don’t worry about what her name is.” Blue bites out. Jake shoots him a look of warning and Blue holds his hands up in mock surrender.

  He’s not in control

  “Listen, her name is not important. If you need anything from her you ask me. Jake nods at him in understanding. 

  “Go get ready,you’ve got a busy night and I don’t want you keeping anyone waiting.” He slaps your ass again and you stifle a groan not wanting to deal with the aftermath of him hearing you. 

  “Yes sir.” Is all you manage as you round the desk.

  “Adiós Princesa.” He’s gonna be trouble. 

  ****

  “I need you to keep an eye on some high profile clients.” Blue lights his cigar and settles further into his chair. 

  “You’ve got muscle all over this place, what do you need me for?” Jake knows he’s not here by accident. 

  “They don’t have an eye like you…I think there’s some business going on under the table and I don’t want it going on in my club.”

  “Fair enough, I can only stay a few days.” Jake pulls his hat down nervously. 

  “A few days is all I need and you’ll be paid before you leave.”

  Jake stands to leave but hesitates just before the door.

  “How much for your number one girl?”

  Blue clenches his fist, digging his fingernails into his palm. He takes a steady calming breath and rolls his tense shoulders back. Jake was doing him a favor, but the thought of him having you still made him jealous. 

  “I’m not paying you enough for her.” He smirks to himself waiting for Jake's response.

  Jake is seeing red-does he know who I am? He knows he would never do anything to his cousin but it was hard keeping his cool when he always had such a smart mouth.

  “I have my own money hermaño.”

  Jake's insistence was pissing him off but he needed his help.

  “You can have her tomorrow night, she’s busy tonight.” 

  “For how lo-.”

  “I’ll decide how long.” He says through gritted teeth. 

  Jake exits the office with a noxious grin. I think I’ll decide.

  ****

  Blue told you to be ready for Jake. He was colder than normal and didn’t give you many details. You weren’t new to this but something about Jake made you nervous. 

  You knock lightly on his door and he immediately opens as if he was waiting on the other side. He beckons you in and turns you to face him.Your eyes trail down his bare chest and notice the bulge in his black boxers. He looks at you hungrily as he pulls the tie on your black silk robe letting it fall to the floor. You’re wearing matching blue lace lingerie underneath. 

  “I see you followed my instructions.” He grazes his thumb over your nipple sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in to kiss you but you pull away. You see that look in his eyes again and you’re trembling but they immediately soften into something sad. 

  “He doesn’t kiss you?” 

  “No sir.” He places a hand behind your neck pulling you into a bruising kiss, your lips melt into his as he moans into your mouth. He’s pushing you onto the bed without breaking the kiss as your tongues dance with one another. You feel like you’re floating from this intimacy. You feel the guilt creep up on someone other than Blue making you feel like this but you push it down not wanting to ruin this moment. 

  “I’m gonna make you feel good Princesa.” He’s breathless as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your body, he gently lifts your hips to slide your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping folds. He licks a stripe through your entrance and circles your clit with his tongue. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as you grip the sheets beneath you.

  “He doesn’t take his time with you, does he?” He doesn’t give you time to answer as he inserts a finger into your slick cunt drawing quick circles around your clit with his thumb. 

  You slam your hand over your mouth to muffle the cries of pleasure. He quickly grabs your wrist with his other hand. 

  “I want to hear you, I want him to hear you.” Fuck

  He inserts another finger and fucks you at a fast pace, you don’t know how you’ll survive if his fingers stretch you like this. His tongue is on your sensitive nub and your breath hitches as he closes his lips down on your clit. He grinds his hips into the mattress for some friction where he desperately needs it. 

  “Oh..fuck…sir right there.” He chuckles lowly into your pussy and the vibrations could send you over the edge.

  “You can call me Jake.” He curls his fingers and presses down on your bundle of nerves. Your release slams through you leaving you sobbing his name as your whole body shakes. He’s kissing your thighs as you come back down and looking at you like you hold all the answers. 

  “Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees.”

  Your body moves faster than your brain wanted you to but you’re putty in his hands now. You can hear him shuffle behind you as he discards his boxers somewhere. You’re trying to calm your ragged breathing but his hot tongue devours your slick folds and circles your rim. His hands grip your waist before you collapse into the headboard.

  He grips the base of his cock slowly dragging it through your slit, you can feel his tip breach your entrance and you keen at the stretch. He’s rocking his hips back and forth and his thick cock can barely fit.Your pussy clenches down on him and he bites down on his bottom lip practically drawing blood. 

  “I need you to relax…just let me in and it will feel so much better.” He reaches around and his fingertips circle your swollen clit. He can feel you relax around him as he works your hips onto his length. He’s in awe watching your slick coat the base of his cock as he stretches your pussy to the brim. 

  “Tell me who's making you feel this good.” He’s panting behind you as he picks up his pace.

  “You Jake…fuck it feels so good.” All you can hear are the sounds of his hips meeting yours, the squelch of your cunt as his balls slap your clit over and over.

  “Can I put it anywhere?” He runs his thumb along your lesser used hole and all you can manage is a breathy yes. He pulls out of your entrance and spreads your ass wide with his calloused hands.

You feel a glob of spit on your rim causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He prods just the tip and you already feel so full, he churns his hips slowly and your body feels on fire. The sensation has never felt so good, no one has ever taken their time. 

  You can tell he’s coming apart as his groans grow deeper and his thrusts become erratic. The pain gives way to pleasure as he snaps his hips into yours, he’s filling you with each roll of his hips and you can’t hear your thoughts over the screams of his name. 

  “Who do you belong to?” He’s grunting behind you as he slams you down on his cock. 

  “You..I’m.yours.Jake.” Each word punctuated on a thrust. A wrecked sound tears out of his chest from deep within as his release slams through him. His hips slow as he empties himself inside you. He trails light kisses down your sweaty spine and pulls out of you with a hiss. 

  You collapse onto the bed and he pulls your back flush with his chest. You can hear him drifting off to sleep as he mutters under his breath. 

  “Not letting you go, never letting you go.” 

  ****

  You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep when you hear a rap on the door. You turn to see Jake fast asleep, you raise his arm from your waist and slink out of bed to not disturb him.

  As you place your robe back on you hear another frantic knock on the door. You hurry over to open it, not wasting time to find your panties. 

  “Times up sweetheart.” Blue’s eyes are bloodshot, his liner is smeared down his face and the anger in his expression isn’t one you’ve seen before. He grabs your arm and yanks you out of the room slamming the door behind you. His grip on you doesn’t loosen as he stalks down the hallway. You can hardly keep up with him as you trip over your feet.

  “He fuck you so stupid you can’t even walk.” He doesn’t bother to pick you up, practically dragging you down the hall to his office. You can feel the tears prickling behind your eyes. His office door is a welcome sight for your poor knees. 

  “Get up.” His pupils are blown wide as you stand on shaky legs to enter his office. He’s pacing back and forth, Blue’s never been like this. He wouldn’t kill you, would he? He asked you to go to Jake's room. He finally stops pacing and sits in his chair. You can only stare at the floor afraid to meet his gaze as you fidget with the hem of your robe. 

  “Come have a seat.” His voice has softened a little and you feel a brief moment of relief. You move towards the chair but hear the faint sound of his belt buckle, as you look up and meet his eyes you can see the resemblance- the venomous eyes. 

  “You know where I want you to sit.” You can feel the arousal between your legs mixed with the dried cum. His cock is red and angry leaking precum down his length. You move to stand in front of him facing away as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs. He smacks your thigh and you hover your entrance over his lap. 

  “Sit.” You cry out at the stretch as he pulls you flush against his hips giving you no time to adjust. 

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” How do you answer this?

  “No.” He slaps your pussy hard and you bite down on your tongue. 

  “Yes.” He growls in your ear and you can feel his cock pulse inside your walls. 

  “If you want to keep lying to me that’s fine, you’ll just have to make it up to me later.” He circles your clit with his fingertips and you clench around him. 

  “Who do you belong to?” You're weightless as he bounces you on his cock punching something deep inside you. 

  “You Blue…I belong to you.” He grips your hair pulling you back against his chest as he thrusts his hips up. 

  “Oh…tsk tsk I thought you were Jakes?” Was he listening? 

  “I’m so sorry Blue, I’m yours I’m all yours I swear.” You’re sobbing now as he picks up his pace, never releasing the grip on your hair. Your orgasm is approaching and you shouldn’t have this reaction to him but your body craves it. He’s the rehab and the drug all at once. 

  You’re thrust forward onto the desk and your grasping at anything for purchase as he fucks you at a relentless pace.

  “Oh my god…Blue please.” Your cunt swallows him with each thrust. He pulls out of you suddenly, coming with a choked sound as he pumps his cock with his fist. You can feel the hot ropes of cum on your back staining the black satin robe. You can hear his wrecked groans as he milks the last of himself into his hand. He leans forward onto your back holding his hand in front of your face. 

  “Clean it.” You lick the salty remnants of his spend from his hand, moaning and savoring the taste the way he likes. As he slumps back into his chair you feel your pussy ache at the lack of release. 

  “You can go sweetheart.” The whine that escapes you is not lost on him.

  “Maybe when you remember who you belong to you can come.” His menacing laugh echoes in your thoughts for the rest of the night.

  ****

  “Those clients you wanted me to watch, we're trying to poach some of your girls. I took care of them so you shouldn’t have any more problems.”

  Blue doesn’t really care what taking care of them means as long as the problem is resolved.

  “Good, feel free to stay one more night. I’ll send some girls to your room.” 

  “Thanks hermaño, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow. Ugh no need to send any girls, I need my rest for the drive.” Jake stands to exit Blue’s office but hesitates once again at the door. 

  “How much for your girl?” Blue groans white knuckling his chair -not this again. 

  “It’ll be double for tonight, same rules as last time.” He relents not wanting to cause a rift and is grateful for Jake's help.

  “I mean how much to keep her…I want her.” 

  If Blue could spit fire he would. Who does he think he is? He would have anyone else killed for less than what Jakes got away with and now this? 

  Jake turns to face Blue and he’s seething, a long silence passes between the two men as he awaits his response.

  “I wouldn’t let you have her for all the money in the world...She’s mine” His voice is dark and barely above a whisper. His eyes narrow slits and he looks like a snake ready to strike.

  Jake walks towards his desk and Blue stands,both men on either side. He’s a wolf in the lion's den but he won’t back down. He leans forward placing his hands on the desk. 

  “People don’t say no to me Blue.” He laughs, the bastard laughs and for the first time Jake thinks he might be in trouble. Blue leans forward just inches away from Jake's face.

  “There’s a first time for everything…Goodnight Jake.” He doesn’t falter, their faces still inches apart and then his face splits into a sickly sweet grin sending a chill down Blue’s spine.

  “Goodnight.”

  ****

  Your head is pounding in your skull and your body feels in motion. You can’t tell if it’s day or night but you know you’re not in your room. The smell of leather permeates your senses and it hurts to open your eyes. Your face is wet from laying in a puddle of your own drool. 

  You lift your weak body up and come to the realization that you're in a car. The windows are tinted black and you can hardly see outside-its a limousine. You wipe the drool from your mouth and try to remember the night. After Blue made you leave you cleaned yourself up and went to bed.

Is that really all you remember? 

  Tears begin to spill as panic sets in, the bile coming up in your throat at the thought of being in a stranger's car. You start to crawl towards the front and your body is so weak, you’ve never felt like this before as you try to focus on the soft carpet beneath your palms. You knock lightly on the partition and it slowly lowers. 

  “Good morning hermosa, how’d you sleep?” Your breath catches in your throat at the site of Jake. His hat pulled down above his furrowed brow.

  “Please…take me back please. He’s going to be so mad.” You're crying and trying to catch your breath. All the while he’s laughing as his gloved hands tighten the grip on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me now.You’re safe with us now.”He raises the partition muffling your screams as you bang on it incessantly. You feel the exhaustion creeping in from your panic and you know no matter the outcome you were not safe.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging anyone that commented on the original post @thedarkcoven @simpforbritgents @fandxmslxt69

[sudokuplayer]

MY LOVE IS A WEAPON THROWN ONTO THE OBLIVION OF YOUR BODY (taken from booklet of original art and essays by Sufjan Stevens, written to accompany his new album Javelin)

read essays ↓

1.MY LOVE My first love was an involuntary sound – the music of the spheres – a subdued, white-noise shuddering of my heart, a fluster of hummingbird vibrations that I could taste in the prenatal hemispheres of my mouth, body against body and brain against brain, two conjoined selves conjuring an off-shore thunderstorm in the horizontal distance, dazzling with flashes of metallic music and elemental chaos in the safe harbor of my mother’s womb. There was no light and no dark, no semblance of simile or semaphore. There was only the blurred and audible presence of a distant and divine voice hovering above the waters where I balanced between the prism of absence and presence on an inflatable dirigible of sea foam, wandering into the oleaginous abyss with a half-smile of hazardry and wizardry – my maiden voyage into the “unbeknownst” of oblivion. For what did I really know at this point in my primordial mindlessness? Nothing at all. I was struck dumb, created from ignorance and ether, first without function or features, then without order or form. I was sensation and consciousness postponed, a wet and placid portion of monotonous fruit cut in quarters awaiting heaven’s blessing. My only occupation at this point was to occupy, be occupied, preoccupy, and prevail nature in a womb-world of benevolence and buoyancy. The music of the heartbeat of the universe danced me to sleep. Within this realm, I was love and life supreme, undivided by thought, word and deed, a small promise kept until the act of doing would undo me for good. My birth was my undoing. And then I was born into oblivion.

2.IS I remember in college, falling in love for the first time, two spring months of rapture, residing on the tail end of a helium balloon. I was so giddy about everything: washing the dishes, tying my shoes, scrambling eggs, binding books, pulling berries off juniper trees. My infatuation had such an arrogant persuasion on the world around me. Everything as metaphor ascribed with romance. I remember, while mowing lawns on the college campus, finding an injured fledgling crow by the dining hall. I carried it to the biology lab, where we called a woman who ran an animal sanctuary from her home. She met us on a bike with a wicker basket. “You are doing the universe a great favor,” she said, holding the bird to her breast, like Mother Goose. The event provided endless fodder: for prose poems and folk songs and long conversations on the roof of the aspirin factory, where we got drunk on Boone’s Farm sangria, speculating on cosmic intentions and the order of the universe. So much meaning, so little time. I was young and dumb and in love. Guided by a perverse curiosity and a voracious sensation-of-the-imagination pivoting at the tip of my tongue, I marveled at the mysteries of life laid out before me, awaiting in the calm commotion between innocence and experience.

3.A WEAPON And then experience pummeled me. Many years later, after the long-suffering exhaustion of life had driven me into the bleak underbelly of realism, my most profound thought was sad and static: that nothing really matters, nobody loves me, and loneliness would always be my most devoted companion. In my new sobering worldview, absent of love, I began to encounter everything as an object without meaning, without modifier. The homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway was just a homeless man selling day-old newspapers on the subway. There was no metaphor, no rapture, no cosmic intentions. I had to ask myself: does this make the man, the newspaper, the subway, or myself any less meaningful? No. Quite the opposite. For what resided in that substantial vacancy where I was always prone to symbolize the world to death is exactly what I needed right then: Opportunity. Presence of Mind. Peace On Earth. Stable Stoicism. Absence of Metaphor. Responsibility. And Hard Facts. That was my prayer: to shake off the doting artistry of an over-eager poet with a proclivity to create dreams from doldrums; to approach the world as a concrete object, a thing to be held, not a thing to behold, or allegorized; to remain at peace and in careful jurisprudence in spite of the resentful intonation of my overarching loneliness that devastated innocent bystanders with all the magic castles of the imagination. I told myself: I must snuff out the candle of candy-corn dreams. I must soldier on like a dead-end daydream undeterred. I must be steadfast in the stolid presence and essence of common sense and survival. I must be true to life internal and reside in resignation at last.

4.THROWN My second love was less ecstatic, but more tragic: the “gift” of sight – an elemental flash of lightning, which struck me like a bag of metal shavings thrown out onto ice reflecting back at the centerpiece of my sternum. A sucker punch to the chest. My cold consciousness came into sharp focus, rattled by illuminating waves invading everything around me. The light was loud and extraordinary. And even with my eyes closed, my pupils began pontificating at the pornography of sight, and I was momentarily carved into madness. Seeing is believing is birth. I shuddered and shirked at the tangible evidence of something else – the others – the imposition of a sensation outside myself, in which everything was separated into opposable armies: the land from the waters, the air from the earth, the seasons from the doldrums, the seen from the unseen, sin from sainthood, light from dark, good from evil. Everything was put in its place by the curse of namesake. The world was now before me, beneath me, above me, and ultimately against me, a pressure foot pressed down on all sides. I felt a cold claustrophobia, empty and alone, trans-natal and tragic, baffled by the violence of this new environmental context. And to think I was just a silly beansprout of a thing shivering under the medical lights, squirming like an open earthworm, now tasked with this terrible act of naming. God gave me a pen and a pad of parchment paper. “Transcribe your feelings and your findings,” she said. “Do your thing. First thought, best thought.” I did as I was commanded, a dutiful sea urchin inching its way to the possibility of words and wisdom.

5.ONTO A world without language was once the indication of certain death. Soundless, voiceless, nameless vapor. A typography of empty vessels. The void! But now, what of the tragedy of names, spoken into existence with the demystification of words? I was culprit and complicit, identifying all the divergences, differentiations, variations, permutations, diversities, dichotomies and double entendres. Categorizing the animals, cutting them down to size, organizing the parts of the body with the parts of speech, a fanatical grammar-game of possession, domination and death. I had to ask myself: Is this manner of identification in the name of higher knowledge even if it disregards purpose, analysis, and compassion (observation absent of intention)? And how could it be undertaken without idolatry and ulterior motive? I desired the objectivity of the photography of the baby-brain, whose fuzzy visionary reception was a delightful nebula of perfumed consciousness and joy. I wanted to see the world coherently and without discretion, discernment, reduction, and deduction – unintelligible intelligence. Instead I began to perceive how intimate knowledge generates prosperity (fullness) and progeny (fruitfulness) – of ideas and offspring. To be “made known” was to be consummated: “Adam knew Eve” – intercourse as discourse (knowledge as physical/sexual engagement). To know someone was to take possession (to gain access, in confidence and with confidentiality). The exchange would potentially unveil the secret knowledge between lovers (the nominative ordinances of arousal) – wherein posterity would become the observable antecedents of this sacred wisdom, and pleasure would be its misfortune (of infatuation and love, of chaos and order). My sexual discourse began to die a slow death of observation and objectification, a nonsense category of substances seen and deemed believable, predicating a cosmic break from the universe: a psychic rebirth, from which invisible things transformed into figures of speech, wherein figures of speech were left dead in the wake of rivulets and rivers, drowning in a molten waterfall of dread, where they would meet their maker in linguistic whimsy. My death was now new life. My reincarnation, a reverse sublimation. I was made known; therefore, I knew nothing.

6.THE For a short time, my pet peeves were my shortcomings: dry skin in the morning – brushing off the bed sheets with bits of outer insulation from my body. Was I molting? I needed to drink more bitter herbs, I thought. I had chronic stomach pain, below the clavicle, a small fist of air. Sweet antacid, mint leaves, fennel seed tea. Invisible Anxiety. The pain in my leg: a hypochondriac’s dream. Soothing myself with palm oil and camphor. Small applications on the surface. At dinner with guests, supplementing aspirin with ice-water, saying very little otherwise, a friend agreed with everyone’s assessment: “Yes, sometimes you are cold and unfeeling. You could warm it up a little.” My apparent coolness – was it a matter of objective safety? That remote vacancy which I brought to every engagement, keeping the world at arm’s length, the anthropologist’s vantage point, sustaining the presumptive: was that my vocation – the judicious spectator, an odd outlier outlining all this activity while staying behind the line of sight? As the youngest sibling, I was always evaluating my older sisters with fierce judgment from the corner of the room, just out of reach: eavesdropping on phone conversations, catching glimpses of padded bras, curling irons, and maxi pads passed between casual doorways. Taking stock of the panoply of premature adulthood (teenage pregnancy), unruly rebellion (sneaking out at night), clumsy and combative excursions with our wicked step-mother (cat fights with elegantly finger-nailed fisticuffs). I watched from a dutiful distance, careful not to engage, harboring a catalog of tragicomic events and all their moral assessments in order to avoid the worst-case scenario for myself. I was in the world, but not of it. I learned from the mistakes of others: that I was nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen, potential energy. I learned from the mistletoe to keep watch overhead so as to avoid the dangling modifier of accidental affection. I learned from the stone in my shoe to keep walking through the pain with a staggering refrain in my step, a constant reminder of the brokenness of my body and the indefatigable self-loathing of my own self-consciousness.

7.OBLIVION My third love was a surprise affection – ticklish touching and tender swaddles of terry towels and cotton cloth wrapped in armfuls of goose down feathers transfixed in the careful undertaking of childcare. A sensual delight! I was an object to be objectified, a thing to squeeze and prickle, caress and carry about in a breadbasket. I grew from a pinecone to a pine tree, from a newt to a dinosaur, from a poppy-seed to a poppy flower bursting with fireworks. This love then transferred its fornications onto something wet, wild and ornithological – a flying, feathery python ascending to its countenance as a bastion of bridegrooms in a flaming aviary chariot of leathery kisses all aimed at my elbows. Hope is a thing with bird feeders. So I watched the feathered fowl crowd around the seeds and suet, grubs and grains with dinosaur intensity, beaks and claws doing their vast prehistoric business with messy execution. My lovers cawed at their community of plumy mishaps like transcendental mother hens: nuthatch and creeper, tanager and titmouse, blue jay and junco gallivanting together like an armful of woolen throw blankets clapping the dust from their ornamental features. Our fairy dance of foreplay lasted for days. Cat calls as birdsong with balloons, iambic pentameter poems, chimes that rhymed with clanging crystals hung on fishing line, and all the fanciful costumes with sequins and fringe, flowered bell bottoms, metallic body suits, reggae music, ballroom dancing, charm bracelets, diamond rings, glimmering little earrings with fly-fishing ornaments, and, on the last day, a very long and serious monologue about global warming. Our lovemaking was quick and witty, a little slutty and clumsy – nothing more than a jaunt, a quick choreography of slaps and body slams, two pigeons in a mosh pit, working things out in juvenilia. Nature had done its work. Afterward we lounged together in the afterglow with soft pillow talk and dreams of nest eggs and parenting, protecting, foraging, feeding, and changing diapers, all the domestic labors of love. But for now, in a warm bird bath, sunning ourselves with a glistening glow, I could only think of the sweet bliss of here and now, the wetness of loving kisses on my nape, my neck, my back, my rump, my foreshortened wings and a sweet nectar nightcap. Hope is a thing deferred, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

8.OF My fourth love was peripatetic: a suitcase stored in an overhead bin on an airplane. Things beget things beget responsibilities. I procrastinated my life by traveling far from it. A day before the voyage, I stayed up late in the polar forces of the night, diligently packing the baggage on the couch, opened up like can of tuna fish, a glass of lemon juice on the nightstand (master cleanse), the Siamese cat washing itself, the dollar store dishes in the sink, my dirty clothes in a paper bag. The last time I had left for this kind of trip, my things were in boxes in one room on the second floor of a gated town house in God-knows-where, New York. Now everything had been transferred as in a swap meet, boxes upon boxes, things upon things, other voices, other rooms. The living room was a labyrinth of speculative journeys, a crossword puzzle of travel prompts. Outside, gale force winds rose to the occasion, knocking on the windows like unwanted guests. I imagined the weather overtaking everything in an apocalyptic frenzy: cups and saucers trembling in tongues, plastic wrap coming undone in a transparent wedding train, pillowcases falling over our heads like hard hats, ceiling fans circumnavigating the neighborhood like helicopter rides, the colored crayons on the kitchen shelf thrown asunder to make slapdash hieroglyphs all over the window panes, the mysterious penmanship of the gods! My mind was preoccupied by disaster, a force majeure, an act of God, a ball of yarn, and the four horses of the Apocalypse. I wanted nothing of it: this origami suitcase lifestyle of travel and transition. I wanted to be here and now. I wanted silence, solace, and stillness. I wanted the simplest of things: a bowl of vanilla ice cream, a warm bath, and a quiet place to sit and stitch my hand-crafted cross-stitch of rainbows and sailboats framing a sexy cartoon portrait of Dionne Warwick diligently working the lines for the Psychic Friends Network from way back in the 1990s, when every solution to every problem was just a phone call away.

9.YOUR History repeats itself, defeats itself, cheats itself, berates and beats itself. I am not historic. I am histrionics. I must hate my mother and my father. I must hate myself and take up the cross and be born again. In this way, my fifth love was an immutable shadow following me with sticky tricks and schemes, a cancerous contamination of the mind that could only be cured with the deadly venom of a cone snail. I couldn’t quite shake it, the cobalt-blue memory of a ghost haunting my sophistry, a prescient reminder that the knowledge of faith and the substance of hope were right behind me this entire time (and not something to pursue, or follow, like an ornamental object on the horizon, dazzling, elusive and alive in the distant future). The Divine Inside was a “previously known encounter.” I could never see it face to face, but only feel it in my shadow, the former patterns of an aura left behind, pushing forward, pursuing, persuading, steering and navigating my memory through the valley of the shadow of death. I wanted so desperately to “have and to hold” the real substance of things (evidence!), the physical, intimate engagement with the body and the blood, which I actively sought out in transcendental activity, prayer and supplication, the sacraments, the feasts of the saints, a metaphysical substance to salivate and sublimate within the natural order of things. But this was a false pretense. God is not natural, but supernatural. The real material of divinity is ineffable, unassailable, unknowable, unutterable, and unreal. The evidence of providence is not within our line of sight, nor within our grasp, but instead beyond and behind our physical kinesphere. It is unapproachable, unspeakable, unobservable, and ultimately “erstwhile”. And yet still we continue to feel it “under our skin” and “within the universe” of our own personal history: The Past/The Passed/The Repossessed. God is our delayed consciousness – the nameless, faceless dichotomy of our secret truth. And we are made in its indistinguishable appearance. Therefore our own true “image” is without a name or a face – a baseless, shapeless cloud hovering above the waters, a countenance of empty atmosphere (signifying nothing) – a gothic apparition, a vision of love, a dance of the eternal travesty of life, a burrowing beetle of impenetrating curiosity. Digging for the true grit of life in the eternal dirt of the universe. 

10.BODY  My last love was a kind of science fiction. I was out running errands at the mall when I saw a fleet of lampshades falling like flying saucers from the sky. The alien robots came to me in an escalating beam of light and said: “We come in peace! The obverse seeks to make its face shine upon you, while the inverse hides in shame.” They did their thing with my body, prodding and poking around for some good news, but at first I would have none of it. I struggled and squirmed under nylon restraints strapped onto a stainless steel operating table. I was a basket case of curmudgeonly vitriol, pointing out everything that was wrong with the world around me: Fossil fuels. Cancer. Money. Greed. Sales Tax. Frozen Yoghurt. Religion. Varicose Veins. Junk Mail. But the alien robots were unflappable. They said, “We just need a little DNA, not a diatribe,” while swabbing the insides of my mouth with a cottony Q-tip. Then, after careful intubation and a slow drip of aesthesia, I eased into the abyss. They removed my clothes and covered my body with a marshmallowy spray foam. They swaddled me into a warm cocoon of maroon goo, where I remained in stasis to the end of the ages, slowly resuming into the soft, pillowy features of my former self – pre-natal, premature, pre-conceived – a slippery and succulent primordial membrane of soupy warmth and illuminating agency awaiting, once again, the cosmic journey laid out before me like a yellow-brick road of possibilities – the secret oblivion of love, the “unbeknownst!” Within this pinprick vision, I saw a tapestry of afterbirth in afterglow as an addendum to an immaculate after-thought of rapturous joy. I was born-again in fullness and truth. I was a peanut. I was a pretzel. I was a pan-fried shrimp. I was pandemonium personified. I was once again myself waiting to happen again and again and again and again and again … until the end.

— Sufjan Stevens

[trulyumai]

Personal Space? Never Heard Of Her!

Synopsis: You help the big boss (Jack), with every day tasks. He sees some forms missing from his desk and questions you. Jealousy ensues.

Pairing: Handsome Jack/You

Warnings: Murder (I mean it is Jack)

Available on AO3!

A/N: I know this is kind of a niche fandom, but Ive been obsessed with it recently! Enjoy the reading :)

“-Listen, listen, sweetheart, how many times do we have to go through this?” Jack's voice echoed through his office, you stood there just behind him with a frown marking your face. 

“Jack, I already said-” 

“Ah, ah, Mr. Jack pumpkin Mr,” Turning back to you he wiggled his long finger, tutting you lightly. 

“Mr. Jack,” You bit out, 

“The forms were already submitted. I told you the current marketers already came down for them. 

Squinting at you he plopped down on his chair, it groaned in protest as his heeled dress shoes rested on the oak desk in front. 

“Careful with that tone. I just like my things organized, is that so bad? I didn't know those shit brains were already on the new prototype,” Idly swinging his pistol it twirled between the man's fingertips, it would have been quite impressive if you weren't already mildly annoyed. 

Crossing your arms, pivoting one hip to touch the table, you relaxed your face. Somewhat afraid of the man, you didn't want to piss him off this early in the day. 

Afterall, you didn't dare think just how many assistants had come before you, shot and maimed  in this very room before you desperately enough took the interview for this (once in a lifetime) job.

The man rambled on, about the new gun designs, “Dumb ass,” bandits and the citizen who unfortunately ran into him this morning. 

“-Filthy fucking guy, how could he not see me coming! I was gonna rip his eyes out but who am I- '' Pausing all his movements halted, until he slowly, oh so slowly faced towards your direction once more. 

With still movements you paused too, wearily eying the man before he finally spoke up. 

“Wait, wait. Hold on, hold on, back up.”

Backing up a step you gripped one wrist with your hand. 

“No not literally you fucking- Your sentence. The researchers?” Frowning you traced back to your prior conversation 

“Yes, sir. The um, Prototype? They came in early, asked, well, demanded the papers. Said it was urgent.”

Sitting up Jack put both his gloved hands on the desk, gripping the corners until you heard the crinkling of his leather gloves. 

“They came. In my office, and you let them in?” 

Oh no. 

“W-well sir, they said- they demanded me to! Said you gave them special permission, made me walk ahead of them to open the door, and an-” 

A single hand was lifted, halting you to stop the rambling. The glass windows behind him showed the business of the city. Skyscrapers cascaded around the office, the clouds invaded the unusually blue sky and you wanted to run- run and bury yourself between the shiny buildings and fluffy skies. 

“What were these, shall we say, gentlemans names, hm?”

Distracted by the plethora of people on the streets you didn't answer, didn't even notice the man get up from his chair and place himself in front of you until his big hand squeezed the meat around your face. “Answer, pumpkin.” 

“The names? Um, Mordecai- I think and maybe ah-” The grip worsened, with increased pressure you felt the creaking of your jaw, the tightness on your skin. 

“S-Steven! That's it, I'm sure!” 

Eyes darting back and forth between yours he let go, switching to put his arm around your waist. 

“See? Was that so hard! Good job, sweetheart, really, that must have exhausted you,” 

His fingers skirted across your form, until his fingers danced at the hem of the blouse you wore. They lifted it a tad and met the skin with a warm touch, lightly gliding his fingers up down and as he hummed in thought. 

“Pretty sure those are downstairs guys. Let's pay them a visit! See what they have to say about personal space,”

Dragging you along, he pressed the elevator before leaning down on you, putting the side of his head to rest on your own. 

With a cocky expression he noticed your nervous form. “Don't worry, sweetheart- you tell Ol’ Mr. Jack, which one did the demanding and this will all be over soon!” His hand twitched on the opposite side. 

“Maybe we can even get some brunch after, I'm starving.” 

Nodding your head you held back a wince. 

The morning just started and there were already three casualties. 

What a morning in Pandora.

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 4)

a/n: how we feeling so far you guys? I don’t know how long this story will be but definitely at least 10 chapters if not more :) enjoy!

—

2 years go, age 15 (Fall)

“Frankie gets me so angry sometimes, even though I love her” I tell Conrad over the phone as I walk outside. The cool night breeze hits me like a wave I’ve been waiting for.

“she’s a lot, but she has a good heart” He replies.

“you do remember when she came for the fourth this summer?” I could hear him laugh through the phone.

“Yeah, how could i forget when she sucked off Jeremiah’s face during spin the bottle.”

That’s right. She did do that. I still remember when she had purposely stopped the bottle to land on him. Only I had noticed.

Silence had never been more noticeable.

“Well,” Conrad starts, “I wouldn’t have kissed her.”

I smile. “That would be funny.” No it wouldn’t. I would’ve lost all my brain cells. Jeremiah was hard enough.

I hear him laugh through the phone silently.

“So I learned something today.” I say, sitting down at the steps of our driveway.

“oh yeah? tell me.” I could tell he was smiling which made me smile.

“So my science teacher is a total love sap, and she told us today that if we see a shooting star it’s a sign of love, and that we’ve found our soulmate.” I couldn’t help the laugh that left my lips. “Isn’t that weird? She’s so cringey.”

Conrad didn’t say anything.

“Conrad?”

“That’s cute.” He says softly.

“Of course you would think it is.” I roll my eyes playfully.

“Hey, stop that.”

I giggle. “You can’t really make me stop, your hours away.”

“I wish I wasn’t. I miss you.” He says so quietly, like he didn’t want me to hear. But I did anyways. I always heard Conrad.

“I miss you too. Don’t worry though, the summers come fast.” I reassure him, and I think myself too.

“yn! What are you doing out here?” I hear a voice yell and I know it’s Stevens. I pull my phone away from my ear and see it’s 12:06 am. Shit. it’s late.

“Your gonna get kidnapped! Who are you talking to?”

Conrad laughs from the other side of the phone, “Is that Steven? And are you outside?”

“Shhh hold on.” I pull the phone away from my ear and look towards the figure which I make out as Steven, “give me a minute please!”

“Now!”

I sigh, pulling the phone back to my ear, “I should probably get to bed anyways, I have morning volleyball practice tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday?”

“Coach doesn’t care.” I say with a small laugh thinking about what my coach would do If i didn’t show up.

“Well, I should get going too, I need to look for my shooting star.”

I laugh, “What? In a hurry to find your soulmate?”

“No, I know I already have.”

—

After changing into more comfortable clothes, I walked into Belly’s room and she was pacing once again.

“Bells? What are you doing?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to wear.”

I chuckle while flopping onto her bed, “It’s just a book party. Laurel won’t mind.”

Belly’s face forms this guilty smile and I immediately pick up on it.

“Unless something else is happening I don’t know about?”

She rushes next to me on the bed and looks at me panicked, “What if I told you cam asked me out on a date? And I said yes.”

A smirk appears on my face, “This is new.”

“yn! I need help! I feel like i’m dying.”

I giggle and shove Belly’s shoulder. “Do that flowery crop top. It’s cute.”

She smiles and stands up, grabbing the shirt from her closet. She slips it on and looks in the mirror. She looked really nice.

“See? Perfect.”

She turns back around to face me, “Hey, I saw you and Conrad earlier, what was up with that?”

I feel my hands tense up when she mentions Conrad. The most twisted thought i’ve ever had is that Belly loved me and Conrad not being best friends anymore. She bathed in this situation. I tried not to think it, but she was in love with him. No matter how many dates she went on with Cam.

I hated it. Why? I don’t know.

“Oh, nothing. He was just at the club looking for Nicole and we ended up walking home together.” I lie. I had to because I couldn’t really tell her that we got into a sorta almost fight because he drives me crazy and I can’t stop thinking about last summer, which creeps into my mind every second-

So of course I lied.

“Oh, okay.”

—

I walked downstairs beside Belly and see the boys playing a video game. They were super into it which made me laugh. Conrad still looked moody though.

“Bye guys.” Belly says, attempting to gain the boys attention. Jeremiah looks at Belly and his jaw drops. Of course it did.

“Damn Bells.” He smiles, dropping his remote and walking over to spin Belly around. As much as I hate to say it, it’s cute. This interaction.

Then the moment turned sour because I realized maybe I didn’t really like Jeremiah. Maybe he was just a distraction that I tried to convince myself was real. Maybe I was trying to cover up the truth about him. I can’t even say his name.

“Conrad, over here man.” Steven pushes Conrad’s shoulder and that’s when I notice Conrad staring.

I sigh and turn to Belly, “Have fun, okay? Text me if you need anything.”

She nods and rushes out the door, and I see Jeremiah’s eyes linger to her. Maybe he really did like her.

I smirk and run over to the couch, jumping in the middle of Conrad and Steven and grabbing Jeremiah’s remote.

“Hey!” Jeremiah pouts.

“I’m about to kick all your asses.” I claim. Steven laughs in a manner which meant your not good enough, but try.

Maybe I did loose.

Once the game was done Laurel and Susannah came downstairs and we all got ready to head out. My phone rang when I saw a text from a number. Josh.

Hey stranger. I was thinking, and thinking led me to texting you.

I found myself giggling at his message. He seemed like a good guy. I think Steven picked up on it because he looked at me disapprovingly.

“Yn. Who are you texting?”

Conrad then stood up from the couch.

“Oh.. um just this person.”

Jeremiah smirks and leans over and before I can blink, my phone is gone.

I groan. Shit. “Jeremiah!”

He holds the phone high while reading the message. “ooo, who’s this lover boy?”

I could feel Conrad’s eyes on me. Burning into my soul.

“His name is Josh. He was at the bonfire.” I hold my hand out hoping that was enough proof and to my surprise it was, Jeremiah hands me the phone back.

“I think I know him from around.” Jeremiah states.

“That guys an ass. You could do better.” Conrad blurts out.

Utter silence is all I remember. It was awkward. Painfully awkward. Why did it make me want to slap him but then hug him at the same time? Tell him, it’s okay Connie. Like he had done many times for me.

Like when I was 12 and he was 13. I was upset because I had scraped my leg against the side of the pool and was bleeding. I was being pretty dramatic. That still didn’t stop Conrad from helping me.

“Yn, are you okay?” He reached for my hand and helped me get out of the pool. Tears streamed down my face but he wiped them.

“Here, I’ll help you.” He shared a half smile with me. I nodded, somewhat feeling better.

That was a good day.

“Well, ready to go?” Susannah says, breaking the silence Conrad caused.

We all nod and make our way to the car. This would be one of the longer night in cousins and I felt it.

—

And I drank to that.

I love Laurel, but this party blows ass. Conrad has been drinking in the corner the whole night and I can’t help but want to as well. The drinks look nice.

I slowly walk over to where he’s been pouring drinks the whole night and smile, “Give me some.” I grab a cup.

Even though he tried to hide it, a smile crept up on his face. “Are you gonna proceed to do everything I do?”

I rolled my eyes, “You don’t own drinking.” I take the bottle from him and pour some into my cup. He stares at me and I can’t help but notice.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing.” He turns away, almost giving me the cold shoulder. I want to slap him. Slap him so hard that he falls to the ground and starts bleeding. But I don’t. I don’t because I can’t ruin this night for Laurel.

“Hey, you can have it back now.” I almost whisper, handing the bottle to him. I felt like I was invading his privacy, he had literally been hoarding the drinks the whole night. People were starting to notice.

He nods, putting his hands around the bottle and I can feel his fingertips graze mine. I let go quickly and rush towards the couches where I find Steven and Jeremiah.

“This is so boring.” Jeremiah pouts.

“I don’t see anything else to do.” I say.

“How about we go buy some weed or something?” Jeremiah adds, suddenly perky.

“Or.. we could go to the drive in?” Steven says and he has a smug look on his face. I shake my head immediately.

“Steven, no.”

“Let’s do it.” I hear a voice from behind me speak and I know who it is. It’s the voice that I used to hear. The voice I think I still heard all the time. Whatever I wanted, he didn’t. Whatever I didn’t, he wanted.

All I could do was pull out my phone and send a text to Belly.

please don’t be mad.

—

She was.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?!” Belly screams while getting out of the car. I could see Cam in the distance going to get something, probably food or drinks.

“Relax, Bells.” Jeremiah says through laughs. Belly then looks towards me angrily.

“Belly, I tried to warn you.” I pull out my phone and show her the text message I sent her.

“Steven, if you don’t leave I’ll show everyone in here your Dramoine fanfic.” Stevens face turns red as Conrad and Jeremiah let a few laughs slip.

“He spent a whole chapter on Draco’s wand.” I add.

“Shut up!” Steven yells.

Jeremiah pats Steven on the back, “Don’t be embarrassed man, Draco’s hot.”

Belly than looks at me and Conrad with a soft look, “Can you please leave?”

I nod, “Let’s go.”

Steven sighs and begins to drive back to the house, and I laugh at how dramatic belly is.

I felt Conrad’s head lean on my shoulder and I could also smell the Vodka on him. It was kinda sad. He was so lost. It’s not like he didn’t drink before, but this was different.

I decided it was best not to fight and pretend like everything was fine. Like it was normal.

“Tired?” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He says. Almost like a little kid.

If I closed my eyes or really zoned out, I could pretend this was really normal. Before everything happened. Before everything got so fucked up.

—

heyyyyy! that was it for this chapter :) I’ve been trying my best to get them out so I hope you enjoy. very slow burn if u didn’t notice lol. what do you guys think happened? also like I said lots of flashbacks to get us where we are so hang in there !!

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely

[beauteousevil]

Recap, thoughts, summary of the show. Spoilers and opinions abound!

to literally set the stage

Billboard (can change depending on song)

Orchestra ____Train lines/scaffolding____Orchestra

● <Vocals on balconies, wearing insect wings> ●●

|small town nowhere\Chicago\NYC\Seears Tower|

^all written on a wall that moves to reveal the field

(I think) show opens with two figures on stage in a sleepy embrace, Henry and Douglas, who share a resemblance to Sufjan Stevens and Evans Richardson. Henry disengages and gets his shoes, jacket, and bag and prepares to leave the freshly awoken Douglas.

From there he journeys alone from NYC to Illinois, we see structures relating to the train lines give way to a field that he makes his way through. Here we see him write in his journal (one of many in the show with different colors and winged insects on them) and he is surrounded by three stars. As he writes the stars intermittently take the forms of:

Carl, Henry's childhood best friend and first love.

Shelby, Henry's childhood best friend and Carl's first love.

Douglas, Henry's first adult love whom he doesn't feel deserving of.

This is where my memory may be failing me because I'm not 100% sure it doesn't start with the stars>sleeping>journey and not sleeping>stars>journey but I forgot to write this down that night so here we are two weeks later and my brain is scrambled

From here we see Henry joined in the field by a community of friends as they make a campfire and share the night together. They try to get him to tell his story but he isn't ready. Instead they take their turns.

First up is Jacksonville. Absolute powerful number that got an applause break before the piece was even finished. Has the primary storyteller, Morgan, sharing the stage in a stunning give and take with a tap dancer. Such a high note for the show I felt bad that the other stories kind of had to pale in comparison. From this point on Morgan drew my attention during any other group piece, they were absolutely magnetic.

Next is Zombies! The best bits of this were the physicality of the dancers to portray the zombies or the running/fighting them off. The zombies are masked and costumed as politicians and business man, telling a really cool story. At one point they literally hold up signs with their names which felt a bit on the nose but can for sure be refined in future versions. The grief/horror/exhaustion of the story teller, Jo Daviess, was really amazing.

Next is John Wayne Gacy, Jr. told by Wayne, a murder balladeer, and as said in the program guide, is about "the damning cycle of exclusion borne of outcasts forced to sympathize with monsters". That I feel is the heart of the performance... and if I hadn't read it before hand I'm not sure it would have come through the dance alone. By the nature of the story there is a grotesque energy with the dancers wearing sailor collars to let us know they're his child victims, and JWG is wearing a clown mask and completely see through tulle (like you can see the seams in the underwear beneath it) vaguely in the shape of a clown costume. There is no sexual element to the movements, they start vaguely playful and become increasingly violent as he picks off his victims. At the end the storyteller is shaken clearly by the "and in my best behavior/ I am really just like him" and needs to be calmed by his friends at the fire.

On the lightest note is the story of The Man of Metropolis by the story teller Clark (of course haha). A fun number with some amazing physicality by Clark who, at least on the opening night, was played by a dancer that was very tall but exuded a lightness and joyous energy in his performance. A bit gimmicky but cute. First he reveals a Superman shirt, then the rest of the dancers do, and they use a picnic blanket to make a cape for him. It felt like the dancing lagged a bit with the singing taking center stage as it went on, which I'm not mad about, the music and vocals were fucking amazing. I'm hoping against hope for a cast recording 🥲

This begins Act II, Henry's story! We see the field drop away to Small Town Middle of Nowhere where the young Henry, Carl, and Shelby play around and dance together. There's a fun bit where they're like balancing on things and jumping around. Henry is drawn to Carl but Carl can't look away from Shelby when she appears. The guys plan a road trip to NYC (Carl spray paints it on to the stage settings board in real time) but Shelby stays behind.

Henry has a run in with Douglas, and kudos to the dancers for portraying that immediate connection, as Carl is on the phone back home. He needs to go back for Shelby but Henry stays to see through his potential with Douglas. It's clear this is the last time Henry ever saw Carl.

Carl goes back and him and Shelby dance to Casimir Pulaski Day. As the song goes on her illness weakens her so Carl supports her more, but in doing so she pushes him away, until eventually she is being pulled into the afterlife. Very moving, the dancer for Shelby was phenomenal in portraying the grief and anger of being betrayed by your own body.

As Carl struggles with the loss we see Henry struggling with his decision to stay. This leads into Palisades where we see his relationship with Douglas flourishing. The beauty of it and the inspiration being pulled from Sufjans love for his own partner brought a lot of the audience to tears, sniffles heard all through the quiet moments. We see Henry getting ghostly glimpses of Carl (memory? spiritual?) as he falls into a depression and self harm. Douglas joins him and they sway and breathe together in a way that has me choking up just thinking of it. Their love was potent as was Henry's doubt that he deserved to be loved.

The spectre of Carl makes himself clear to Henry and passes right by through him at several points. The play by play of this bit is slightly lost to me as to when Henry knows what happens, if he knows before the audience, etc. This brings us to The Seer's Tower. Carl is distraught and is led by a whim, portrayed as a dancer in all black, up to the scaffolding above the stage. One by one, with decreasing time between them, we see dancers in all black go up to Carl, float their hand above his as if connected by an invisible tether, and then fall off the edge of the tower to the back of the stage. There is something so curious and questioning about the way Carl plays the suicidal ideation that felt very real to me and makes the bodies falling chilling. Carl takes his own leap, the stars reappear, and we're back to the beginning of the play

Henry wakes up cradled with Douglas and slips away to his journey. We see his travel again, the campfire, and his friends reacting to the vulnerability of the story he has lived. This time though we also see Douglas has made the trip as well and makes his way through the field to the campfire. The community rejoices in their connection and we get fantastic final dance numbers as a group as well as with Henry and Douglas, with Henry made lighter by having told his story. The final shot is Henry handing a book to the audience.

Opinions! Notes! Things I might forget if I don't make this list!

● Went to the opening night of the Park Ave Armory show, March 7th 2024. Pretty good mix of Sufjan fans and Very Fancy NYC theater people that had come to support the show.

● To match the journals in the show the show program covers are bold covers with a moth or butterfly split by the seam of the book (half on each cover). Different colors/insect versions were laid out on the seats. I got a red one with (I think) a tiger moth.

● The program contains journal entries by Henry written by Jackie Sibblies Drury with some Sufjan lyrics mixed in. The end of the program is blank lined pages.

● The vocalists were above and beyond. Absolutely killed it. Made the songs their own in a way I didn't think possible. I really hope there is an album recording for the show now that it's going to Broadway.

● I can not overstate how amazing the energy of the show is, completely contagious in the room. I know a filmed version is unlikely beyond a bootleg but PLEASE it is so inspiring and I'm not at a place where I can draw a dance from memory. I was itching to sketch the entire time.

● The only bits that took me out of the show even a little were the cheesy kind of heavy handed bits that dragged on. The "now YOU write your story" ending is a bit much but the show earns it so 🤷 I won't say it works for me but I don't mind it.

● I would love to see some different costume choices in the story bits. Either more ramshackle costumes pulled together with the camping equipment or fully realized costumes. Having the founding father zombies both have the full face masks but also just be wearing suit jackets they pulled over their head like Beavis and Butthead is a choice that I don't agree with. I was hoping the move to Broadway might net more attention to costuming, but the turnaround is so quick that I'm doubtful. Not enough to ruin the stories but definitely the weakest aspect in a way that lessened the less powerful stories.

● I really can't overstate how electric and magical the Jacksonville performance was. Much smarter people have captured the vibe and explanation of the original song in regards to the exploration of history and ancestry. I can not put it into words but the feeling was communicated so cleanly.

[masivechaos]

THANK YOU, GENIUS

steven meeks x gn! reader

Request: yes / no

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Synopsis: Meeks helps you during finals revision weeks.

Warning/content: can't think of any, my English & quick proofreading

a.n.: 0.6k words- my genius boi

masterlist/ dead poets society masterlist / navigation

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

“I won’t make it,” you groaned as your head fell against the desk.

Next to you, Steven looked up from his paper sheet “Don’t say that…” he said, peeping at the notes you were reading a couple minutes ago.

You let out a long sigh “It’s true though! My brain doesn’t want to retain anything! I keep reading and reading and urgh… still nothing…” Your annoyance was quickly turning into anguish. Finals revision weeks were already so stressful but even more when your mind was refusing to cooperate.

“Maybe your need a break…” Steven said as he discreetly reorganised your messily displayed notes.

You huffed. It was your own brain and yet you still struggled to understand it. “No! Finals are in less than two weeks and I feel like I haven’t done anything…” Panic could be heard in your voice.

Steven took a proper look at your notebook “Your notes are messy…” he commented. He wasn’t meaning it as a criticism, he was just saying what he thought.

“I know…”

“Take these,” he said as he handed his own notes.

“But… you need them,” you said as you shied away when his hands brushed yours. 

Steven offered you a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll study something else.”

The silence settled again as you both came back to studying. Having Steven’s notes might have helped you a bit but there were still things you didn’t understand. You turned your head and observed Steven as he worked. He looked so focused- and so pretty- you could only stay still for a few minutes, watching him carefully as he pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Feeling your eyes on him, Steven turned to look at you, a smile finding its way on his lips “You need help for something?” 

“Um… Well, I started studying trig- because apparently, my head decided not to retain any history- and there’s a thing I didn’t understand. Can you help me maybe?”

He knew you didn’t like asking for help, it made you feel like a weak child that couldn’t do anything with their two hands, and therefore he understood the effort it took you to do it. Most of the time, you would only come to him before an important exam when you already spent hours trying to understand and that many tears had already fallen on your cheeks.

He smiled at you as he put aside his own work “Sure, love.�� It wasn’t the first time he called you that, he already let it slip out of his mouth a few times but it still made your stomach twirl inside your body.

He took his time with you, making sure you understood everything, even when sometimes you said “Yeah, I get it” after he asked you if you were done with a subject because you were worried you were bothering him, he could feel your lie and he would continue to explain.

After what felt like hours, you finally understood “Thank you so much,” you said, reassured.

“You’re feeling a little better?” he asked. You had to admit you felt more confident now thanks to him.

You let out a relieved sigh “Yeah, thank you, genius”. Steven let out a quiet chuckle at your comment. Your eyebrows frowned in confusion when he started to put all the notes and books aside. “What are you doing?”

“You deserve a break, Y/n.” He got up, holding his hand out for you to take “Follow me! It’s not a thirty minutes break that’s going to make you fail. Plus- you’ll succeed I know it. There’s nothing to worry about.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ steven meeks taglist: @moonlitmeeks @toindeedbeag0d @juneberrie @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @until-i-found-you @kieracassette @vancitycharlie-deactivated20230 @oncasette @dori-and-gray @maddipoof @starlit-epiphany

[late-to-the-party-81]

For the very first time - Chapter 6

[or 5 times the Cap Quartet slept with each other and 1 time they slept all together]

AN: Here we are folks, the smutty finale. A lot of the focus is on Bucky with Sam as they haven't featured together previously, but don't worry, Nat and Steve are still part of the action. Thank you all for coming on this horny journey with me. This chapter is set in an alternate time line where Bucky was de-programmed, got together with Steve and hung out with the other two all the time. Catch up on Chapter 5 here.

Beta’d by @kingofsorrow20

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Master list

Chapter Summary: A teasing conversation about who’s had sex with who sends Steve into horny mode, and Bucky wouldn’t be the boyfriend he is if he didn’t indulge him. Obviously the fact that Bucky has the hots for both Nat and Sam as well has nothing to do with it.

Chapter Relationships: Steve x Bucky (established) Steve x Nat, Bucky x Sam, Bucky x Sam x Nat, Bucky x Sam x Nat x Steve

Chapter Word count: 3.4k

CW: Teasing, flirting, mild angst, Bucky Barnes recovering, Steve Rogers is a horndog, Group Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (M receiving), Cream Pie, Anal fingering, Anal Sex, Masturbation (M and F), Top Bucky, Bottom Sam, Implied Vers Steve, Implied Vers Bucky, Implied face sitting, Mild D/S between Bucky and Steve.

Steve, Sam, Nat and Bucky  - 2017

“So,” Sam drawled out and Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing that his new friend was going to give him some shit. “You were the first one out of us to sleep with Steve and the first one to sleep with Nat. I’m feeling a little left out.” Sam grinned around his bottle of beer, tipping it up to take a long drag and Bucky absolutely did not notice the errant drop that evaded Sam’s lips, rolled down his chin, down his throat to disappear under the open collar of his shirt.

It had taken two years for Steve and his friends to track Bucky down. It didn’t go terribly smoothly, and Bucky had ended up in Wakanda for six months having his brain poked and prodded by the princess of the technologically advanced African Nation, but was so far, so good in the ‘being stable’ department. Now Bucky was back state-side, still working through his trauma, but starting to enjoy life again, now he was free from HYDRA’s programming. Lots of days were still hard - nights as well - but he had his Stevie by his side and two new close friends in the form of Nat and Sam. 

He’d remembered Nat, of course. Shuri’s treatment had brought back all of his memories, for better and worse, so he’d easily recalled the young woman he’d had a connection with all those years ago. As the memories had resurfaced he’d felt like an absolute creep, but when he’d tried to apologise to Nat, she’d just shrugged it off.

“You didn’t make me do anything, James. I’d have fought you if I’d wanted to, even if it would have led to my death. I chose to go with you and do what we did. I didn’t have a lot of control over many aspects of my life, but I could at least choose that.” He was glad that Nat didn’t hold anything against him. Out of the three of them, she understood what he’d gone through the most.

Sam had been different. Bucky was not ashamed to admit that he’d bristled against the other man when they’d first met. He’d been jealous of Sam’s position in Steve’s life. Why would Steve need Bucky for friendship, or indeed romance when he could have someone so put-together instead? It hadn’t taken him long though to find out that Sam was not as unaffected by life as Bucky had first thought. They had a friendship based on snark and sarcasm, but there was an underlying affection there, finding common ground in having to deal with the headstrong idiot that was Steven Grant Rogers. It also didn’t hurt, in Bucky’s opinion, that Sam Wilson was unfairly attractive. He had an ease about him, a way of flirting, that actually reminded him of how he’d been when he was younger, before the war. Before everything.

Steve had told him - confessed - that he’d slept with both Nat and Sam and more than once. Steve had pulled his lower lip between his teeth and looked down at his feet as the words had come out, and Bucky had thought it was sweet the way that Steve was worried that this information would upset him. He’d cupped Steve’s face and released that poor lower lip with his thumb.

“Stevie, baby, I’m not upset. Could never be upset with you. I wasn’t here for you and it’s not like I was as pure as the driven snow. What matters is that we’re together again now. Also, I think I slept with Nat.”

They’d had a frank conversation then about everything that had happened and Bucky even admitted that he might be a little jealous of Steve.

He also wondered if by coming back and picking up his relationship with Steve he was denying his partner of other experiences. There was obviously a connection between Steve, Sam and Nat - the banter, flirting and occasional weighted looks were as plain as the arm on his left side, especially so, given how much time they all spent in each other’s company.

Which is what led them to where they were now. They were celebrating another successful mission, winding down in Bucky and Steve’s bedroom with a few beers. He was perched on the edge of the bed, with Steve in the easy chair on one side of the room and Nat in the one on the other. Sam was currently standing. The mood was mellow and somehow the conversation had turned to when and how Bucky and Steve had realised their feelings for each other. That in turn had led to Nat talking about her encounter with Bucky and Sam’s jesting comment about being left out.

Bucky couldn’t help but snark back with his own grin. “You wanna ride, Sammy? Just say the word. I’ll rock your world.”

“Yeah?” Sam answered. “Sounds like big talk to me.”

“That’s not all that’s big,” Bucky retorted with a wink, before turning to Steve. “Hey Stevie, can you control…” He stopped dead as he took in Steve’s expression. His ocean blue eyes were blown wide, his cheeks were pink and his mouth was stuck slightly open. Bucky smirked, realising exactly what had happened.

“Sam. You broke my boyfriend. That there is an A-grade horny Rogers look if ever there was one.” Steve flushed even more and tried to shake himself out of whatever daydream he’d just been in, as Sam took a step closer, bent down and peered into Steve’s face.

“Oh yeah - that mental image got him good, didn’t it?”

“Guys,” Steve whined. “Gimme a break,” but Sam and Bucky just ignored him, continuing to talk to each other as though Steve couldn’t even hear them.

“Well, I don’t blame him, Sam, given how we both look and how we’ve both fucked him into the stratosphere before.”

“Can you imagine what he’d look like if we did fuck and he could see it?”

Bucky turned back to Steve leant forward and gripped his chin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you Steve? Watching me and Sam go at it?”

Steve nodded eagerly. “‘N’ Nat too. Would be so hot.”

Nat got up from her chair, where she’d been watching the boys interact, with a knowing smirk on her face. She sashayed over and straddled Steve’s lap. Steve looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Has America’s Golden Boy got some nasty fantasies in his head?”

Steve nodded dumbly again and Nat turned to look up at Bucky and Sam. “Well, I could go for some light relief if you two are game?”

“You know I’m always hot for you, Red,” Sam grinned. “Whaddya say, Barnes? Gonna put your money where your mouth is and rock my world?”

Bucky could feel his own body starting to respond. His mouth was dry and his cock twitched in his pants. This wasn’t ever anything he’d considered, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea.

“Yeah,” he replied as he stood up. “You’re not gonna know what hit you.” He pulled Sam into a rough embrace, his left arm snaking around Sam’s waist and the other cupping his jaw, and kissed him. Sam was only caught by surprise for a second, before he was groaning into the kiss and fisting his hands into Bucky’s shirt.

Nat scootched further onto Steve’s lap, right over the growing bulge in his pants, and brought her mouth to his ear. “You like how they look together, Rogers?”

Steve nodded dumbly. “Uh-huh.” Nat chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair.

“How are you calling it, James? Seems like this is your show.”

Bucky ripped his lips from Sam’s, the pair of them grinning, before he gave Sam a shove that made him fall down onto his and Steve’s bed with a bounce. 

“How about you entertain yourself with Stevie while I get Samuel ready?”

Nat gave him a mock salute before pulling her shirt over her head. Bucky and Sam both chuckled as Steve’s attention was drawn from them to Nat’s lace covered breasts that were now only inches from his face. His fingers scrabbled around Nat’s back, working to undo her bra as he kissed her feverishly.

Bucky turned back to Sam, who’d discarded his own shirt and was shucking his pants. For a moment, Bucky was hypnotised by Sam’s firm pecs, licking his lips before drawing his own shirt over his head and falling down onto the bed between Sam’s spread thighs. He could see the outline of Sam’s cock through his briefs and licked his lips.

“Wanna put my mouth on you,” he said, almost without thinking.

Sam’s lips quirked up at one side and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m all yours, Barnes. Do your worst.”

Bucky dropped down, first of all pressing his mouth to Sam’s chest. He felt one of Sam’s hands come tentatively to his hair, before jerking away, so he lifted his head with a reassuring smile. “You can touch back, Sam. It’s okay.” Sam exhaled beneath him and then threaded his fingers into Bucky’s shaggy chestnut locks.

Bucky made his way down Sam’s body, fully exploring the strength of him in a way Bucky had never thought he’d do. His tongue circled each dark nipple before his teeth scraped over the firm muscle. He smiled inside as he felt Sam’s body shiver at the sensation before making his way lower. He traced the outline of Sam’s abdominal muscles and dipped his tongue into his navel. Sam gripped him harder.

His mismatched fingers curled around the top of Sam’s briefs, and Bucky raised his head, looking for Sam’s consent once more before crossing the line between friends and lovers. Sam grinned back and lifted his hips.

A gasp from across the room had them both turning their heads. Nat had turned on Steve’s lap, so she was facing outwards and had an unimpeded view of the bed. Steve’s pants were around his ankles and Nat was now naked, slowly sinking down onto Steve’s cock. Steve’s eyes were closed, no doubt feeling overwhelmed as Nat’s cunt engulfed him, and his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her pebbled nipples.

“Don’t stop on my account, boys,” she teased as she settled herself down and circled her hips. “Just getting more c-comfortable.” Behind her, Steve groaned.

Feeling like he was about to combust, Bucky pulled down on Sam’s briefs and took his first look at Sam’s cock. He couldn’t hold back his own moan. Sam’s cock was thick and cut, and Bucky didn’t hold back the urge to lick over the weeping tip of it. The noise Sam let out was delicious, and Bucky relaxed his jaw, took Sam’s cock into his mouth and made use of the fact that he had an almost non-existent gag reflex. 

“Christ!” Sam shouted and his hips stuttered. Bucky pressed them down into the mattress with a firm grip, but it didn’t stop Sam’s legs from shaking and squirming. “No wonder Rogers has always got a smile on his face. Fuck!” Bucky just hummed and swallowed before releasing Sam’s hips to spread his legs wide. He cupped Sam’s balls and pressed his fingers into the patch of skin behind them, drinking in the sounds that Sam let out. However, when Sam began to tremble more, Bucky reluctantly pulled away. Sam probably didn’t have the same short refractory period as him and Steve, and Bucky wanted to draw this out for as long as possible. 

As Sam drew in ragged breaths, fighting back his orgasm and also cursing Bucky to hell for leaving him so close, Bucky pushed up from the mattress and got rid of the rest of his clothes. He walked around the bed to get to the drawers, retrieving the lube and pulling out a condom.

“Want me to use this?” he asked Sam.

“Only if you wanna, man. I’m clean.”  

Bucky threw the condom back in the drawer with a grin.

As he walked back around the bed, he stopped in front of Nat and Steve. Nat was levering herself up and down on Steve’s cock, using him like her own personal toy as Steve panted into her neck. Bucky dipped his head down and Nat met him part way, kissing him ferociously. This kiss was so different from the ones they’d previously shared, Nat now having the confidence of age and experience that had been missing before. She wasn’t submissive to him, giving back as good as she got, nipping at his lower lip. His cock twitched and he hoped he’d get the chance to fully re-write their previous encounter.

He returned to the bed and placed his hand on Sam’s hip, encouraging him to flip onto his stomach. Sam chuckled and came up onto his knees with a teasing shake of his hips, and Bucky was filled with so much lightness at this whole encounter that he couldn’t help but give Sam’s ass a light spank, which brought out another fit of mirth.

“You ready, Sam?” Bucky asked as he flipped the cap of the lube bottle, squirting some onto the fingers of his right hand.

“Born ready, Cyberman. Come on, fuck me.”

Bucky drizzled some of the lube between Sam’s ass cheeks, letting out a laugh himself when Sam exclaimed at the coldness. He curled over Sam’s back, his lubed fingers pressing against Sam’s hole and placed his mouth close to Sam’s ear. “I promise I’ll get there. You don’t want me to rush this, Doll.”

He circled his fingers around Sam’s tight ring of muscle, feeling it start to relax under his touch, before pushing one finger inside. Sam let out a pleasured sigh and Bucky started to pump his finger, gliding it back and forth until it was moving freely in as far as his last knuckle and back again. 

“More,” said Sam. “I need more, Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed into his ear. “You need more of me, Sam?” He added a second, taking his own pleasure from the sight of Sam trembling under his touch. It wasn’t long until he was adding a third and Sam was pushing back on his hand, his chest brushing against the coverlet, his back bowed, like an animal in heat. 

Bucky was just about to take the next step, when Nat let out a cry. She trembled on top of Steve, her arms holding onto his neck behind her as he planted his feet and fucked up into her as she came. “Fuck, Steve. Just like that. So good.” Steve grunted against Nat’s shoulder and Bucky could see the white of his cum trickling out from where they were joined, and an idea came to him.

“Natashenka, come here, get under Sam.”

Nat smiled as she regained her breath and Sam blew out a huff. “The fuck, Barnes? If I have a heart attack…”

“Shh, you’re gonna love it, Wilson.”

Nat moved across on shaky legs, climbed onto the mattress, slid under Sam and pulled him into a kiss.

“Stevie!” Bucky’s barked command snapped his boyfriend out of his fuck-drunk stupour. “Come over here and help Sam and Nat.” Bucky kept slowly moving his trio of digits in and out of Sam, but avoided his sweet spot. He wanted to keep Sam near the edge, but not too close. Steve tottered over and wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock, gently guiding him to sink into the depths of Nat’s warm and messy cunt.

“Don’t move, Sam,” Bucky cautioned.

“Not planning on it,” came the muffled response, as Sam pressed his face to Nat’s chest and started to suckle on her tits.

The edge of the mattress dipped as Steve knelt on the floor at the side and leant his arm upon it.

“You gonna watch us close up, Stevie?” There was an affectionate, mocking note to Bucky’s voice and Steve gave him a spaced out look.

“Yeah. Fuck, you’re all so sexy.”

Bucky took hold of his own cock, quickly slicking it up with the lube, before slowly pressing into Sam, which in turn pressed Sam into Nat. The three of them let out their own moans and Steve sighed as he started to fist his own cock at the sight.

Bucky started off slow, rocking into Sam and getting him used to the stretch, before Sam’s body language let him know he could start going a bit harder and faster. He pulled nearly all the way out of the sinful clutch of Sam’s body then slid back in with a firm, measured thrust.

“God, Sam,” he muttered. “You thought you were missing out? I was missing out.” Sam rhythmically tensed his body around Bucky and Bucky decided that he’d had enough of being Mr Nice-Guy. If Sam was going to be a little shit - which showed he’d obviously spent too much time in Steve’s company - then he was going to find out that Bucky could dish it back, just as well.

Bucky sped up, his thrusts making Sam fuck into Nat. When he glanced down he could see that Steve was lavishing attention to Nat’s breasts as well and possibly kissing Sam at the same time. Nat had her hands on each man’s head and was letting out little pants as she rolled her hips in time with Bucky’s, making the most of the way Sam’s cock moved in and out of her.

This was the most erotic encounter Bucky had ever had, and he had no idea how he hadn’t bust a nut yet. His eyes didn’t know where to look - there were too many delectable sights to choose from and he was starting to get dizzy from looking around. Sam’s body tensed around him, the sensations probably building up within his body, so Bucky changed tack again. He re-angled his hips and knew he’d achieved his goal when Sam broke from Nat’s chest and a deep, lascivious groan broke from his throat.

“There we go,” crooned Bucky as he rubbed over Sam’s prostate. “Just enjoy it, Sammy.”

“I am,” Sam let out with a cracked voice. “Fuck. Trust me I am. Ah shit!”

His legs were trembling and Bucky knew that Sam wasn’t going to last much longer so he upped his pace, now concentrating on chasing his own pleasure. Nat had obviously picked up on it as well, because Bucky could see her arm wedged between her and Sam and from the look on her face she was touching herself. Steve and Sam were just kissing each other now as Steve jerked off. 

Nat came first - unsurprising since she’d already come once - which then set Sam off. He pulled his mouth from Steve’s and started to curse under his breath as his body spasmed around Bucky. It felt as though he was trying to strangle Bucky’s cock and Bucky didn’t even try to hold back. He cried out, his cock pulsing and filling Sam up. Steve was the last to come, his knees almost giving out and he collapsed face first onto the mattress.

Bucky pulled himself from Sam and rolled to the side, so Sam could get off of Nat. The bed - although made for two super-soldiers - wasn’t made for three adults, so Sam was still squished against him, but Bucky was in no way mad about it.

For a moment no-one said anything, the only sounds those of their collective heavy breathing, until Nat spoke up.

“So,” she asked. “When are we gonna do that again?”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Bucky said with a smirk as he raised himself up on an elbow to look over Sam’s body at her, “but I was thinking of giving you a special place to sit and then maybe let Steve fuck me once we’ve all caught our breath.”

Steve lifted his hand and gave Bucky a thumbs up and Nat laughed.

“Horn-dogs - the lot of you,” Sam groused, but with no real bite to it.

Nat rolled toward him and booped him on his nose. “You love it, Samuel.”

“Yeah,” he begrudgingly agreed. “I do. And I hate to say it, but Tinman here did rock my world. Maybe next time I can rock his?” 

Bucky lightly bit down on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re on, Wilson.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @apenny4thots, @endlesstwanted

[nandsmi]

MY SILLY BRAIN (me) NEEDED TO WRITE ABOUT STEVE HARRINGTON GAINING A FATHER FIGURE BECAUSE *WELL* HIS SUCKS (mine too). So Hopper was the chosen one! My english is horrible, but my intentions are good.

★⭑✩ ⭑ ★ ⭑ ☆ ⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★

Hopper's parents divorced shortly before the end of high school, when he was sixteen. It was dramatic and involved a lot of screaming, like everything his parents did, but it brought a relief that Hopper did not even know he needed. So he didn't complain about crossing Hawkins every weekend to meet his mother and her new husband for a family dinner or about his new step-sister, Catherine, who was almost as horrible and snobbish as her fiance, Richard "Dick" Harrington.

They were the perfect couple, Hopper thought. One more arrogant and pompous than the other.

He did not think much about Cathy after his mother's death, months after he returned from Vietnam. He attended the wake side by side with his stepfather and, after crying like a child in the safety of his apartment, he burned the letter Catherine had sent from Paris, burned her condolences and excuses — she signed it as Catherine Harrington then. He burned it and fled. He ran away from Hawkins. From his ol' man, from his friends and from the pain he felt. He eventually found a career and new friends and started a family, all without thinking or remembering the existence of his step-sister, if he could still consider her as such.

And then he lost Sarah. Diane. Returning to Hawkins was a safe choice, poetic even. Let the remains of his new life rot along with those of his old one. Still, the Harringtons were just one of many families Hopper had to answer to as the Chief and he thought no more of them than he thought of anyone else, except the occasional curse when he driving through Loch Nora.

Like everyone else does.

So yeah, Catherine is the last person Hopper expects at his door on a Thursday afternoon. But there she is, standing on his porch. Dressed as if she were the First Lady while carrying in one hand a backpack that does not match with her heels while the other holds a boy next to her.

"James" She greets. Her expression says shes disgusted to be there. Hopper is not happy either. "This' Steve. Steven, this is your uncle, James"

"Hopper" he corrects involuntarily.

A lightly push. Steve, who looks no older than twelve, stumbles foward, mopping. He mutters a greeting, calls Hopper "sir" with just the right amount of annoyance that still sounds polite. Sighing, Catherine throws the backpack at Hoppers feet.

"I need a favor, James."

These words along with Steve' unhappy expression send a shiver down his spine.

"What?" He is confused. They haven't spoke to in a decade and even before that, Cathy barely thougth of him as a person. As someone from whom she would ask anything? Haha. "Wha- Catherine!"

"James. Jim" She sound displeased as if she can go to him demanding favors and Hopper has to jus accept. "Richard got a great opportunity! We need to attend this dinner in Chicago with some partners and shareholders, just for one night. Would take Steven with us, but..."

She makes a gesture. As fend off a fly. Does not complete her sentence either. Hopper would be impressed if he wasn't so furious.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Grabs and drags Catherine to her fancy car, far enough from Steve, so the boy would not listen them. God, he looks tiny from certain distance, the way all children look. As Sara looked. Hopper needs another beer, needs them to leave.

"What the fuck?! It does... Shit, Cat! Its been years. YE-ARS! The last time, the last thing I heard from you and Harrington, God, I can not even remember and now... And now you, what? Want me to take of your son? A boy I've never seen? Hell! I did not know the kid existed until I got back to Hawkins!"

Hopper took a deep breath. Calmer, he says:

"I do not even know if I can still consider you my sister. What makes you think I would be a good "uncle"? Caring of any child?"

"You had one, did not you?"

Hopper is choked up.

"Did you know about Sara?"

Catherine grimaced as she rolled her eyes.

"Of course I knew about your daugther, my... I am so sorry for your loss. I can not imagine how horrible it must be. I-I wanted to go to the funeral, but I did not know if I would be welcome. I sent flowers."

Diane took care of it. Hopper couldn't bear to look at all the flowers, dishes and condolences gifts sent to their home. Catherine touched his hand.

"Listen Jim, I would not ask you this if I wasn't desperate. Richard thinks a 'sitter is a waste of money and I need to be with him. You are literally the only person I can count on in this town, James."

Fuck her. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

"You will pick him up tomorrow, right?"

★⭑✩ ⭑ ★ ⭑ ☆ ⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★

"You know she is not coming to pick me up tomorrow, don't you?"

The boy frightens Hopper. Since his mother left him more than an hour ago he has been silent. He sat on the couch and watched the news with the same enthusiasm as any other boy his age: none.

Hopper patted the kid, trying to give some comfort.

"I'm sure she will come, kiddo."

Steve laughed.

"Sure, sir, if you say."

[aesir-alchemist]

Hi, I'm The Problem, It's Me (it's the Avengers throw a party one) (Loki x Reader)

Summary: A continuation of the series where I write my take on my favorite fanfic clichés.

It's New Years Eve, and the holidays have you feeling nostalgic and well… you forgot to check the guest list for the Sanctum's killer party. Isn't it always the way? That your exes creep back into your life just as you've begun to forget about them? Well Loki's no different- just more handsome. Hooking up with Loki after he ditched you without a word is a terrible idea... Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the way Avengers parties always seem to get so messy, or maybe it's the unresolved feelings that you're trying to ignore, but you find yourself in the mood to make some bad decisions before the year is done.

Author's notes: These one-shots are meant to celebrate frequently used story tropes. Please feel free to comment with your favorite fanfic clichés, and I'll add them to the list.

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Female Reader

Content Warning: 18+ smut ahead (Reader is of age). Not a condom in sight.

Word Count: 3,288

---------------------------------------

"'I wouldn’t blame you,' he said, catching your gaze and holding it. Soft curls fell over his forehead and down his cheek, framing his intense expression, 'People I’ve hurt have done worse for less.'"

“Hi,” was all he said. 

You hated that all it took was that one stupid, short word from his satisfied, smirking lips for you to forget all of your better instincts. 

Of course Loki was here. It had been years of careful avoidance and you’d finally managed to all but forget the taste of him. And isn’t that always how it went? Without fail exes always came crawling back as soon as you found a moment of peace. And your idiotically blissed out brain hadn’t even thought to wonder if he’d been extended an invite. But of course. If Thor was there, he was there. They were a bit of a package deal these days.

Loki leaned against the bar, his white dress shirt unbuttoned to almost his navel. His black velvet suit jacket was still on, but open. If you knew him, he’d be losing it soon enough. He never left a party with the same outfit he’d arrived with. His clean-shaven chest was draped in 3 slim chains that you were sure he just couldn’t help himself from wearing. 

You glanced around, looking for backup. A way out. An excuse to leave. Maria, Wanda, Steven -all right there moments ago but now… miraculously elsewhere. So you took a deep breath and sighed, resigned,

“Hi,” was all you said

His emerald eyes caught in the disco ball gleam of the tinsel streamers hanging from every corner of the room. Everything shimmered green and gold for a moment and it made your breath catch. 

“You’re not surprised to see me are you?”

“I guess I shouldn’t be,” he was never where you needed him to be. That had been the main problem. Only showing up when it convenienced him. You gestured at his rather peacockish appearance, “Seems like you haven’t changed at all Loki.”

“It’s only been several years,” he conceded.

“Many several,” you retorted.

He had just disappeared one day, to Asgard presumably, then turned up back on Earth with a shipload of refugees and nothing even resembling so much as a phone call. You’d taken it personally at first. Deeply personally. After all, you’d thought he was dead, until one day he was nt. One day he was just there, and apparently he hadn’t even thought of you at all. 

And then you talked to Thor. And apparently that was his brother’s M.O. A pattern of behavior that you’d wanted to ignore. A series of red flags that had been covered up by all of the green that blinded you. And when that truth hit you. That he would rather die than make a tough exit. That you were just some play thing in a series of playthings, and well… you killed him again. You killed him in your heart and in your head and you vowed to never look back. He was in New Asgard and you were in New York. And Paris. And Sydney, and Tokyo and Seoul… you made sure that you were anywhere but Norway. And you left a wake of broken hearts in your path as well. Just to get the tase of him out of your mouth. It had worked too. You were a new person. More confident, self assured and successful. More self-aware. More evolved. 

“Scotch on the rocks and a mezcal negroni,” he said to the bartender, placing a generous tip in the collection, “That is… if it’s still your drink of choice?”

Maybe you hadn’t changed that much. 

“You’ve got me,” you replied, glancing casually to the low-cut neck of your dress, making sure everything was in its proper place. 

“You look ravishing in this,” Loki brushed the tips of his fingers down swell of your hips, ostensibly feeling the soft satin weave. Forward as always.

You rolled your eyes at him, but your lips couldn’t help but curling. Why was his flattery so goddamn effective? You’d infiltrated countless organizations and done more to keep international peace than the UN but something about this would-be king made you abandon all good reason.

You clenched your fists around your purse, composed yourself, and managed a stern glare, not your best, but it was something, “Flattery will get you nowhere a phone call couldn’t.”

The bartender placed two drinks on the counter. Instead of reaching for his scotch, Loki instead took your jewel-red cocktail in his long fingers (covered in thin bands of gold, of course. Garish but appealing) and took a sip.

The look you gave him was one of amusement and half-shock. 

“I had almost forgotten the taste,” he purred, “Still bitter, I see.”

“And why shouldn’t I be bitter?”

He handed you your glass and picked up his own, but you grabbed his scotch before it could reach his lips, taking a swig and making a show of twisting your face. 

“Still stringently unpleasant and leaves a sour taste in your mouth,” pettiness overtaking you completely. 

You turned away from him, ready to down your drink. Then three others. Then, ideally, to take home some fresh young sorcerer before the ball even dropped. Someone blonde or dark skinned or round. Someone the exact opposite of the long, raven haired prince. Someone to to help you put Loki firmly behind you once and for all. 

But he had other plans, and his hands were once again on your waist, catching on the fabric of your dress and pulling you back towards him.

“One dance? For old time’s sake? One dance before we put this year to bed?” His lips were at your ear and the heat of his breath sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. A more naive you would have thought that the power he had over you was magic. But the self aware version of you knew that he was just your weakness. Loki of Asgard was just your type - tall, lean, dark haired and intelligent - but he was as if your type were turned up to a million. He was as if he were the prototype that all other similar men had been based on but could never quite measure up to. 

“One dance,” you acquiesced, your body relaxing ever so slightly. You knew that this one slip in your defenses could snowball into letting Loki snake his way back into your life. It was inadvisable in every way, but the shape of his body felt so familiar, and New Years Eve had a way of making you feel nostalgic.

“I promise it’ll be fun,” he said, and he spun you around, twirling your hand in his, making the hem of your dress rise dangerously high. You didn’t doubt that it would be fun. Fun had never been the issue with him. The issue had been his ability to make you fall apart completely and never show remorse. The issue at hand was that out of the myriad ways you knew you could be destroyed, letting Loki break your heart once more sounded like the most delicious. 

But the drink was settling in you now, making you feel loose, and pliant, and it wouldn’t be long until the champagne came out. Your preservation instincts were quickly being overcome by your body’s need for pleasure. So you spun, and you swayed and you moved with the music, Loki’s hands on your hips, and then your arms, and then entwined on your fingers. 

The colors in the room blurred in rhythm to the music and you found that you could still taste the last time your limbs had been entangled with his. It tasted like the pine of his cologne on clean skin. It tasted like worn sheets clenched between your teeth. It tasted like you, still sticky on his lips. 

The DJ that Wong had hired was good. Songs seamlessly blended together, hit after hit, and soon enough, what would have passed for one dance turned into two, turned into three, and then you were handed a bottle of Veuve and then time didn’t matter. It was just your hips following his until you were dizzy and breathless. 

Loki spun you into a corner. Thank god these old New York buildings came well appointed with nooks and crannies. There were eyes on you, you were sure. Thor must have had thoughts, as did everyone else with a shoulder you’d cried on. A large portion of the party’s attendees you figured. You didn’t relish the thought of them knowing how little it took to get you back into those lean, muscular arms. 

Loki grabbed the bottle, exposed chest heaving from exertion. He’d lost his jacket at some point, as you’d predicted, and he’d undone another shirt button or two. You followed the line of exposed skin from the waist of his slim cut pants, over his navel and the peaks of his abs and to the bobbing apple of his gold-draped neck. His chin was up, exposing all that tender, vulnerable flesh. In your pettier moments you’d dreamed of taking a knife to that perfect, pale skin just to relish him bleeding out. Instead you put your hands around his neck, enjoying the heat of his pulse beneath your fingers, and the ridges of his throat against your thumbs. 

Part of you itched to squeeze. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Show him how hard it was to breathe in the weeks, months, years after he left without a word. 

He stepped closer, cornering you completely against some mystical curio cabinet. He wrapped his arms around your body and rested the chilled bottle of champagne against the base of your spine. It sent a shiver of pleasure through your over-heated nerves. 

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he said, catching your gaze and holding it. Soft curls fell over his forehead and down his cheek, framing his intense expression, “People I’ve hurt have done worse for less.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was an admission of guilt. It was something.

A conscience. That was new. 

You did squeeze, slightly, and you pulled too. You pulled him towards you, his lips to yours and you kissed him, gently, questioningly, asking yourself for permission to enjoy, consequences be damned. 

The consequences were immediate. He kissed you back hard, pressing his still heaving chest against yours, pushing your sticky skin into the glass of the cabinet and the bottle into your back. 

Loki’s kiss didn’t ask questions. Loki’s kiss was hungry. Loki’s kiss devoured. Loki’s kiss told the story of a man who’s appetite had not be satiated. It was a kiss that wanted more, and it was the kind of kiss that you could not get enough of. 

When he finally pulled away, your mouth was still parted and all good sense had left through the eager opening. 

“You lips are just as lovely as I remembered,” you could feel the sinews of his throat stretch and flex under your grip, still sticky and hot around his throat, “Please tell me that your cunt tastes just as sweet?”

And that was when you fell apart - your resolve evaporated completely and every lesson you’d learned about this man’s effect on your well being fell by the wayside. You were completely at his mercy once again.

“I know a place,” Loki said, and he led you away from the party. You kept your eyes on the width of his back, not daring to glance at the rest of the party. Shame and excitement churned in your belly and rose to your cheeks, adding to the champagne glow. 

Loki’s long fingers pressed on an ancient door, it’s creaking muffled by the churning bass of the music, and you found yourself in a long, dark corridor full of portraits of sorcerers illuminated by the moon filtering through old multi-paned windows. He locked the door behind you and pressed you up against it, his skin catching the lunar glow and making him look more godlike than ever. 

He kissed across your clavicle as he ran his fingers tenderly over your breasts and down your body. His delicate touch glided over the soft silk of your dress and you whimpered slightly as his thumbs passed over your nipples and the heat of his breath warmed your throat. 

Your throat that was once covered in marks he’d made.

Your throat that once caught on sobs of pain when he was gone.

His hands passed your hem, his fingertips still light of touch, but they pressed firmly into your skin as they moved back up your body, underneath your dress this time, caressing your thighs and hips as he reached around and grabbed the soft ample cheeks of your ass.

Loki growled a deep laugh into your breasts.

“You never were one for underwear,” he dug his fingers into flesh, hungry, “Fuuuuuck,” he growled, “I missed these games.”

You did too. You missed removing your underwear clandestinely in mission debriefings. You missed slipping pieces of lace and cotton into his pocket when passing in the halls. You missed waiting for him to come sniff you out and take his prize. Sometimes it took hours, and you missed the anticipation. You missed growing wet with wanting. You missed being soaked to dripping by the time he found you.

You were almost as wet now. Loki slipped two long fingers between your thighs to feel it, groaning with delight when he was not disappointed.

He pushed up the skirt of your dress, your slick on his fingers folding into the satin creases. He wasted no time kneeling before you. He took one leg and put it over his shoulder, resting your thigh against his neck and the hungry hollow of his cheek. 

Loki looked up at you one last time. His eyes were wide with adoration. His lips were parted with thirst. Your leg lifted slightly with his every bated breath. It was a look of pure hopeless longing. It was a look that had the power to destroy civilizations. It was a look that probably had. 

And then he dove into you.

His tongue licked between your folds, lapping up your nectar and moaning with hungry satisfaction into hollow of your body. You bit back whimpers, not trusting the throng of the music on the other side of the door to hide the evidence of your poor decisions.

You remembered every filthy word he’d whispered into you between your legs. Every time that he’d promised, heavy lidded and laden with lust “I will ruin you with pleasure. I will ruin you and your perfect, aching cunt.”

You tried not to think about how those words made themselves very nearly true. 

He sucked on your clit while he flicked the tip of his tongue across the ever growing sensitivity. He built pressure there, circling your need harder, building it up and up and up and up…

Until he broke, gasping for air and making you squeal a desperate moan.

Loki bit at your swollen labia before dipping his tongue deep in your wanting void, burring his face in you, letting himself get messy with you he lapped you up.

It was too much. It was not enough. You wanted to push him away. You wanted to pull him closer.

He replaced his tongue with two reaching fingers that pulled at you, bringing your whining, insatiable lust toward him until it broke. Until you broke. Until you broke into a million pieces and every cell burst with elation like champagne pouring into your core and filling you up with sparkling, delightful undoing. 

He’d learned so much about your body, and in the meantime he hadn’t forgotten it. He’d put it to good use. 

Your hands were desperately grasping at the doorframe, your nails digging into ancient wood when your knees gave out and your legs failed you. Loki caught you before you slid, wrapping your legs around his waist. His tight pants bulged with yearning. It pressed against your exposed cunt. 

“Set me free, love,” he begged, his hands around your waist, and his breath, still hot with your scent. And you wished, wished so hard that he loved you, like you, after all this time still undeniably loved him. But love was a matter for another day. All that mattered now was his need, and what he needed was you you. By the ragged sound of his voice, he needed you desperately. And that was enough for now. 

You loosened his black leather belt and unbuttoned his pants, grasping hungrily at the pull of his zipper until his hardened cock twitched free. You stifled an exasperated laugh when his glossy tip became readily exposed, “Slut,” you joked. He too had foregone underwear. 

“I learned from the best,” Loki slid into you easily, pressing you up against the door causing it to rattle. 

You prayed that the hinges of the Sanctum were made of stronger stuff than your resolve to stay away from Loki Laufeyson. 

He pushed, and pressed, and thrust into you, exploring you with the length of his cock with every shaking exertion. You could taste yourself on his lips and he was right, you did still taste sweet. You hoped that he understood how sweet you really were. You squeezed yourself around him every time he pulled out of you, and you relaxed, welcoming him in every time he encroached. 

“TEN!” You heard the crowd from the other side of the door.

“NINE!” The moans he let loose every time you tightened around him should be bottled and sold like a drug.

“EIGHT!” His fingers gripped at you, drawing greedy lines of red along your sides and back. 

“SEVEN!” His mouth was on your neck now, biting and sucking and making marks you knew you’d see in the morning.

“SIX!” Marks you could not erase by any method but time. Marks that would serve as a reminder of this dalliance.

“FIVE!” Marks that made you his. Over and over again, he claimed your body with each one. 

“FOUR!” Your hands were in his hair, fistfuls of black ink.

“THREE!” Your toes tensed and your abs flexed, bracing against every impact, so certain of the impending fall.

“TWO!” Your thighs gripped him, pulling him in even closer, his breath catching on every ragged inhale.

“ONE!” Fireworks erupted. Fireworks in your veins, Fireworks on his skin. Fireworks outside the window showering you in a green and gold and red and blue glow.

He let loose, growling into your moaning mouth. Your euphoric muscles clenching his length, coaxing it into spilling everything he had into you.

Your breath was still in synch. There were horns and party whistles and the melancholy chords of “Auld Lang Syne” on the other side of the door, but all you could register was the beating thrum of your heartbeat slowly calming to a reasonable tempo.

Loki kissed you again, this time with a lingering sweetness. This was the kind of kiss you missed the most. The truly intimate kisses. It made your heart ache anew, your nerves now satisfied of its overwhelming lust, leaving room for agony once more.

He wiped your hair away from your sticky forehead and he pressed his temple against yours. 

“Happy New Year,” and he whispered your name into your ear causing you to grasp at his shirt in yearning and frustration. There was a time when all you wanted was your taste and your name on his lips. You’d thought that time had passed.

You were wrong.

“I missed you,” he said, his eyelashes brushing your still sensitive skin. 

“I know,” you said. And you checked on your body, noting every place that felt sore, and every place that felt raw, and every place that felt renewed and you realized that he meant it. 

If you liked this, please find me on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44328766

[spitfire0715]

So, something that's always bothered me about Steven Universe is the anatomy of the gems.

At first I thought that they were just as they described in the show, physical holograms made of light. I figured that it was just compacted light in a humanoid form. But there are some key things that made me think differently:

1. They can feel pain

2. They can get sick

3. They can breath

4. They can eat

5. They can cry

So, I've been thinking. Instead of their form bring exactly how it looks when they're reforming, I think they have organ systems just like people do; albeit being made of compacted light instead of organic tissue.

Think about it - Amethyst got food poisoning after eating an expired burrito. If she didn't have an organ system with kidneys and a liver and an immune system, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have felt that sick. Now, you may argue that Amethyst just shapeshifted herself a digestive system because she likes to eat, and that could be totally valid.

But hold on; if that's so, why would she go through the trouble of making herself the entire digestive track, instead of just a stomach and intestines? Why go through all the trouble of making everything else?

Here's another thing - Pearl doesn't eat, but I think it's confirmed that she drinks tea. That means she must have been digestive track as well. But since Pearl hates eating, why would she shapeshift herself one? Maybe because she didn't!

It's possible that gems are modeled after organic life forms, so they may automatically have organs like organics do. After all, someone had go have made White Diamond, and that someone could've been an organic species.

Another thing is gems clearly must have nerves, which is why they feel pain. And look at this:

[Images from Steven Universe, credits go to Rebecca Sugar and Cartoon Network.]

GEMS CLEARLY HAVE VEINS OF SOME SORT!

Another thing is while they don't need to, they can breath. Which means they have a respitory system.

The only systems they seem to lack is a cardiovascular system, since they don't have hearts or blood, and the reproductive system, since it's confirmed that Rose had to shapeshift herself one to have Steven.

They also don't have brains, but their gem probably functions as it; being their sole life force. So it's probably the center of their nervous system. Evidence of this is that one White Diamond takes control of a gem's body, it always starts at their gem or gems and spreads from there somewhat in tendrils. Like she's taking over their bodies nerve by nerve.

And lastly, they can cry. It's simple - to cry, you need tear ducts. If gems didn't have organs, they wouldn't be able to cry. And we see many, many gems cry. Many gems that don't eat or drink. Blue Diamond didn't even know what food was, yet she can cry.

So, in conclusion, gems are pre-made with organ systems and you're not convincing me otherwise. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Well Maybe Just A Half A Drink More

Characters: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: When the holiday season comes to an end there is adulting to be done, but can Steven convince you to hold off just a little longer?

Word Count: 1159 words

Prompt: #16: A and B argue over the appropriate times to put up and take down holiday decorations

A/N: This is the last Steven Grant fic on my Steven’s Greetings series. I hope you have enjoyed it, and if you have then please reblog. If you didn’t enjoy my ramblings then go about your life and don’t give it a second thought.

It was that time of year once again, the one where nobody is entirely sure what time it is, or what day it is. The time of year that proves time is a social construct which passes at different rates for different people at different moments. The time of the holidays when you really should emerge from your blanket cocoon and take a shower only to discover that you now only have the choice of leggings or sweatpants thanks to your snack consumption levels vs actual meal intake.

“All I’m saying is that they’re up now and they make things look all twinkly and pretty.” Steven hummed over his coffee as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“But it’s bad luck!” You whined, leaning next to him, empty cardboard boxes scattered around the floor ready to be filled with the mishmash of holiday decorations you’d accumulated over the last month.

“I thought it was bad luck to take them down too soon.”

“You have to take them down before the twelfth night, which is either the 5th or 6th, I’m not entirely sure which.” The two of you fell into a thoughtful silence, sipping your hot beverages as you surveyed the many random decorations brightening Steven’s place.

“And what happens if you don’t? Do the fairy lights explode and set fire to your house?” He teased, earning him a light slap on his bicep.

“No, but I don’t want a year of bad luck just because we couldn’t be arsed tidying up.” You sighed, feeling no motivation at all to pack away the holidays but knowing it was the ‘grown up’ thing to do.

“Hold up, let me check google.”

“Really? You’re going to google it? What are you putting in there?”

“Wonders of modern technology, love.” He shot you a boyish grin and you couldn’t help but shake your head fondly as he typed and spoke at the same time. “What happens if you and your girlfriend don’t put the Christmas stuff away.”

“You didn’t just type that in!” You laughed, trying to see his phone. Steven simply brushed you off, moving his phone higher and out of your reach as he read from the screen.

“Right, so it says here that if you leave them up past epiphany, whenever that is, you have to keep them up all year to avoid the bad luck. I say we just do that.” He shrugged.

“You seriously think we should keep the Christmas tree up all year?” Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him skeptically.

“I keep my Menorah out all year.”

“Is that even the same?”

“Well, I mean, a Christmas tree isn’t a religious thing so probably not, but doesn’t that just back up my argument? I mean, surely religious symbols are more important than random traditions?” You both knew there was a flaw in his logic somewhere, but the amount of telly you’d consumed over the last few days had dulled your brain and it was difficult to spot, so you took a different course.

“Steven, it’s a two foot tree. All we have to do is take the tinsel off it, unplug it, and put it back in the box.” That would be simple enough, right? It wasn’t like you’d got a real tree. It was a crappy one from the pound shop that you’d bought when you found out he didn’t have one. Not that you wanted to force Christmas on him, it just felt nice to meld both traditions together, like melding the two of you together

“Yeah, but then that table in the corner will look all bare and lonely. It looks so jolly with the tree there. Maybe we could decorate it with other stuff.” He said hopefully, staring at the small tree.

“OR I could buy you a plant to put there.” You reasoned.

“Ah, but then where would we put the plant next Christmas when we put the tree up?” There was a beat of silence where Steven thought he might have actually won that argument, but then he turned his head and saw you staring at him incredulously.

“Seriously? That’s your argument?”

“Okay, what about a compromise?” he proposed, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

“What are you suggesting?” There was quiet once more while he gave this a little thought. What would be a compromise? Something that didn’t require step ladders would be good.

“Hows about we take down the tree, and the tinsel, and the snowflakes because they will not look as good in the summer, but we keep the fairy lights, the paper twisty things and the snowman in Gus’ tank. I think the little guy would miss him too much if we took him away.” Steven watched your expression carefully as you considered the offer, knowing you didn’t want to pack stuff up just as much as he didn’t.

“Right. I will take that compromise because we both know how much of a faff it will be taking down the paper twisty things and the fairy lights.” You nodded before putting down your mug and picking up a box.

“Woah, it’s not epiphany! We can’t take them down now because that will mean bad luck.” Steven grabbed your hand as if you were about to put it into a woodchipper, his dramatics causing you to chuckle. “I think we should just put the boxes away and we’ll do it on the sixth. Got to make sure we don’t end up with a year of bad luck, right?” He grinned, using your own logic against you.

“You’re lucky you’re gorgeous because that sort of sass would get maddening very quickly if you weren’t.” you chuckled, dropping the box back to the floor.

“Right, so now we’ve decided we’re not going to pack up anything today, what do you think about crashing on the sofa and watching Muppets while eating what’s left of the holiday goodies?”

“And right there is the sort of thinking that makes me love you.” You hummed without thinking about your words, words which caused Steven’s brain to seize up for a moment.

“Y-you..?” He stuttered, drawing attention to what you’d said, causing your eyes to widen in panic. It was true, you did love him, but this wasn’t exactly how you wanted to tell him that.

“I mean, I-“

“I love you too.” He cut in quickly, as if the words had been desperate to escape him for a while now.

“Right. Well. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Good.” The two of you stood there for a few moments, just grinning like two fools in love, which was exactly what you were.

“So,” you broke the silence, slipping your hand into Steven’s and leading him towards the sofa, “we watching A Christmas Carol or Treasure Island?”

“Both. Both is good.” And so the two of you spent the rest of the day lost in Muppet movies and each other.

[mama-qwerty]

I've always thought Eclipse has no experience in lying. Why would he, when father could just plush the truth from his thoughts anytime.

But I always go back and forth on if Eclipse is delighted to give it a try or he's so used to a culture where everyone knows each other's thoughts that he thinks being deceitful is terrible

You know, I hadn't really thought about that. (I'm pretty much making up Eclipse's character as I go!) But I can see both points.

On the one hand, there was absolutely no way to even be deceitful on the Comet. So he never really discovered the thrill or fun or whathaveyou in regards to fooling someone else. There are so many reasons people lie but since Eclipse never had any chance to develop that trait, it may be something he's not even interested in. It would literally never cross his mind.

On the other hand, because he didn't have the opportunity to do so on the Comet, that could be a perfect reason for him to try now that no one knows his thoughts. It's like he's keeping a secret that only he knows. That could be very exciting for him! (And why am I absolutely positive Sonic is the one to teach him about lying?)

Okay, now that I'm thinking about it, my vision of Eclipse is that he's innocently tactless. (Actually, a lot like Peridot from Steven Universe.) He's blunt to a fault, but not necessarily mean. He just has no filter, and will say anything that falls through that lizard brain of his. It's like he's switched the 'communication' tab in his brain from 'telepathy' to 'verbal speech'. Anything that would be thought is said instead. He still has thoughts he keeps to himself, but if he has a question, he'll blurt it out. If he did something wrong, he'll just keep quiet instead of making up a lie to cover.

If he does try to lie, he's terrible at it. Just horrible. He doesn't know how to make the lie believable, so they'll be the biggest tall tales you've ever heard. He also has no poker face, and his tail will give him away every time.

I do think he would not like to be lied to. He would feel betrayed, and get really angry about it. The kid holds grudges and it would take a while to regain his trust after that.

At his core, Eclipse is actually pretty pure and innocent. Sure he's a gremlin with no impulse control who is really liking the fact that he can actually do what he wants now that he's out from under his father's thumb, but he's not necessarily mean or cruel. He can be a force to be reckoned with when fighting--he is the ultimate weapon, after all--but he's not, at heart, an evil creature who delights in the suffering of others.

[r0ttingsystem]

North here and I'm about to rant about system stuff, enjoy

I'm going through survivors guilt rn, kinda

I just read the experience of a system with an extreme persecutor and just

I don't know, thought about everything

We don't have many internal conflicts, it's peaceful

Right now I can see the people in the front room

Yellow and Tommy are gossiping about each other's crushes

Grumbot is drawing for his best friend

All our small littles are in the corner napping

Grian and Dani are to either sides of me, zoned out thinking about their partners

William and Steven are talking about school, since both of their sources are being students

Will is trying to see what other cool thing he can do with his new body, since him and commet fused into a subsystem

John is on his chair sleeping

Mary is just laying down under a whole bunch of blankets asleep

Blarg is cleaning up the headspace living room thats connected to the frontroom

Everyone else is doing their thing, drawing, talking, writing, sleeping, going in and out of their rooms

I'm just here

Trying to comprehend everything

Thing to make sense of all of this

Why are we peaceful? How can we sit here doing our thing while other systems have to deal with so much in their innerworld

Hell, our 'worst' persecutor is sleeping in a wooden chair cuddling a plushie and a music box

It doesn't help that I'm one of the only ones that can remember/care about our past

When I formed our system was a mess, everyone physically and emotionally torturing each other, we were Trying to hold ourselves together by a thread. Everything was loud everything was so god damn loud

But now it's just, quiet

Sometimes that bothers me

Why can't it be loud again I was used to be running around being one of the only ones willing to help the system

My brain is still in that mode

That I can't relax, if I do something bad will happen

But I know that nothing will happen

I know I can just lay down and take a nap for a while

I can't do my rounds? Rowan will be happy to run around headspace to check everything, he's a dog he'll be more then happy

Something going on in outerworld? Grian and Lio will take care of it

Something going on in innerworld? Again Lio could help, or if anyone needs advice they can ask dani

I know I can relax

But the thought of relaxing makes me more anxious then I can put into words

I feel like I'm the only one of a generation that has survived

The only ones from our "old system" that are still here are me, Mary and commet ,I guess will counts too cuz they share a body now, madness, misery and some more people I don't currently remember

But it doesn't bother them like it bothers me

Mary couldn't care less, commet/will too

Madness and misery don't remember much of anything really

And then there's me, it's my job to remember and to care about it, I have a whole office full of all the system information I can gather, which is most likely 1/3 of everything

And I don't understand why I'm at peace with that

Why do I like doing my job? Why does it calm me?

am I just a secret autism holder who's obsessed with information? Likely XD

Ah, that joke reminded me my job used to be a comedian, and I fucking hated that

I don't understand any of this and I'm trying to be at peace with that

But it's so hard when I'm obsessed with information to the point I beg people to let me rant to them about our system

I don't know where this was going but, thank you for listening to me

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 37 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 37. Hiccups

Steve had only woken once thanks to his own brain’s dark meanderings and Eddie had had a nightmare, but they’d returned to sleep quickly both times, so after a mostly peaceful night’s sleep, Steve decided he wanted to get at least partially back to normal. Before everything had gone to hell, he had tried to go for a run at least three times a week. It always cleared his head and set him up for the day.

He crawled out of bed still pretty early, leaving Eddie snoring with a quick kiss. After using the bathroom, he pulled on his old gym shorts and a shirt and headed downstairs. No one else was about yet, so he picked up his keys and let himself out.

The morning air was fresh with a slight bite, perfect running weather.

After doing a few stretches, he set off down the drive. He was just getting into a rhythm ready to turn along the road on his usual route, when a man stepped into his path and a flash went off. The stranger was lucky he didn’t deck him as his fight or flight instincts kicked in, and after the last few weeks they were highly primed.

“Steven Harrington?” a voice asked.

He turned to see a woman holding a microphone and a tape recorder. Just a reporter his logical brain provided, but his illogical one refused to trust his eyes. One look at her had him spinning on the spot and running right back the way he had come at about double the pace ignoring anything she shouted after him.

The front door slammed as he leaned on it, heart going a mile a minute, once he was inside. He could feel himself shaking with the adrenaline. All thoughts of a nice calming run were so much dust.

“Steve?” his mom said, appearing on the landing in her dressing gown. “Good lord, you’re a white as a sheet. What happened?”

She came down the stairs towards him quickly.

“Reporters,” he said, willing his heartrate back to normal as best he could. “They must have been hiding in the bushes. I was going for a run, and they jumped out in front of me. I … God, I nearly hit him, Mom.”

“Which would have been perfectly understandable,” his mom said, gently placing her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, I think you need to sit down. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“What’s going on?” came from the landing and he looked up to see Eddie standing there.

“Reporters,” his mom said for him. “The cretinous morons thought it was a good idea to leap out of the bushes.”

Eddie came quickly down the stairs.

“This is what you get for trying to be all healthy and all that crap,” Eddie said.

It was a nice try, but Steve’s heart was still going far too fast for him to really smile. He could tell Eddie wanted to reach out and pull him into an embrace, but with his mom there, couldn’t.

“Your friend, Argyle, was extolling the virtues of hot chocolate to me the other day,” his mom said, guiding him towards the kitchen. “A wise young man. I think we should test out his theories, don’t you. At least the ones about chocolate, not the ones about weed.”

“And never his ones about pineapple on pizza,” Eddie added. “Fruit on pizza is just wrong.”

“Tomatoes are fruit,” Steve said as the titbit of information popped into his brain.

“They’re sauce, they don’t count,” Eddie replied.

“So are olives,” he added.

Eddie gave him a narrow-eyed look.

“Robin educated me when I made the same argument during a really boring shift at Family Video,” he confessed.

“Of course, she did,” was Eddie’s reaction to that. “I stand by pineapple on pizza being a sin, and I should know, the whole town thinks I worship Satan.”

“Sometimes I worry about this town,” was the comment from Steve’s mom’s direction.

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Eddie agreed.

Steve let them sit him down and fuss over him, Eddie keeping him entertained while his mom made the hot chocolate. It was definitely not how he had wanted to start the day, but he couldn’t say sitting down to comforting beverages with his mom and his boyfriend was a bad end to the terrible beginning.

“Right,” his mom said after they had consumed their drinks and chatted about nothing for a while, “I’m going to call Sam and have the irritants removed from the end of our driveway. I’m sure he can come up with some official reason. I have the feeling they are likely to get themselves killed if they startle the wrong person. Jumping out on people who have been in fear for their lives is just idiotic.”

“You can say that again, Mrs H,” Eddie agreed.

“They’re just doing their jobs,” Steve felt the need to add, because he had seen Nancy’s journalistic instincts in action.

“Doesn’t excuse lurking in bushes,” his mom said as she placed her mug in the sink.

Steve knew when not to argue.

~*~

“Mom, did you order food?” Steve called out as he looked out onto the drive and the truck that had just pulled up.

“Yes,” came the reply from someone in the house.

Steve was so used to going to the grocery store himself these days that he had almost forgotten it was not what the Harrington household had always done. When the doorbell rang, he went to answer it, to find one man in overalls standing there with a clipboard and his companion already unloading things from their truck.

“Harrington residence?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Steve replied.

“Where do you want it?” was the next question.

“In the hall, thank you,” he said, opening the door wider.

The two men were efficient at least, bringing in bags and trays and stacking them up. Steve stayed out of the way because they seemed to have a system, but he couldn’t help noticing there were a lot of items. At some point his mom arrived as well to also watch proceedings. When the apparently never-ending stream of groceries finally did finish, his mom tipped the delivery men with a smile, signed their paperwork and shut the door.

“Mom,” Steve said looking at everything, “are we expecting people?”

Some of what had been brought in definitely looked like platters. He was not aware of any party his mom had planned.

“Yes,” she told him. “It’s more of a meeting than a party, but food always helps these things.”

That didn’t really answer his question.

“Sorry,” his mom said as she seemed to realise this as well. “When I spoke to Sam this morning about the reporter problem we finalised how to move forward. Everyone involved with the Upside Down will be coming here later this afternoon to be briefed on the cover story and in some cases to be briefed on the Upside Down, at least partially.”

“You convinced them to allow the other parents to be read in?” Steve asked in shock.

“We have children wandering around with severe PTSD,” his mom replied, “you bet I did. The idea these government types have of blackmail is laughable; they should try corporate law for a while.  But don’t worry, all the kids were consulted first.”

“Not sure you’re going to be able to lessen Ted Wheeler’s reaction with a charcuterie board, Mom,” he pointed out.

“Yes, he was one of the sticking points,” his mom said, “but I believe Mike and Nancy agreed they couldn’t tell their mom without including their dad. Your father should be home soon, and I plan to explain everything to him first so he can help.”

Steve went cold at being reminded about his dad arriving at any minute. This was so big. Utterly huge even as far as life changing things went and he couldn’t quite totally convince himself his dad was going to react well.

“Darling,” his mom said, placing a hand on his arm, “you don’t have to worry. Your father will, no doubt, have some very choice words, mostly aimed at the government, but I will make sure he calms down. All you have to do is figure out how to best survive being hugged within an inch of your life, because we all know your father is the number one hugger in this family.”

She gave him a small smile and he managed one in return, but he couldn’t push away all the anxiety. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of one of his dad’s hugs in a while. They had been butting heads since he graduated with disappointing grades, neither quite willing to offer an olive branch. A tiny part of him couldn’t help wondering if his dad would blame him for what had been going on. Not asking for help for a start.

“Let’s get everything put away,” his mom said, “and you can tell me what’s bothering you while we work, if you would like.”

Steve wasn’t sure he could articulate his amorphous fear very well, but he nodded and moved to help pick up the first of the delivery. At least being in motion was better than standing still and worrying.

Eddie appeared halfway through moving the delivery to the kitchen and immediately pitched in to help. He’d been giving Steve slightly worried looks the whole time.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked quietly as they put some of the normal groceries away in the cabinets.

“Just needlessly working myself up over my dad coming home,” he admitted quietly.

“You think he’s going to freak?” Eddie said.

“Oh, I know he’s going to freak,” he replied, “but Mom is going to deal with that. It’s afterwards I can’t make myself believe will be okay. I think we were just about ready to start to fix our relationship, but all this, what if it’s too much? What if I’m too much?”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, moving in closer for a moment, “I think the only way you could be too much is if you decide to team up with Supergirl and Will the Wise to take over the planet, and only then if you do it in an evil way. Otherwise, I think you mom and dad would be right there to help you.”

“You couldn’t do a worse job than most world governments at the moment,” his mom commented as she walked past.

Steve almost jumped out of his skin, because he hadn’t noticed his mom was on their side of the kitchen.

“See,” Eddie said, as if that proved his point.

“But I think you might want to leave the world domination until El and Will have graduated high school,” his mom added.

Steve laughed despite his worry.

“We’d need Erica to plan it all anyway,” he said, deciding to go with the flow rather than worry himself through the floor, “and she will want to graduate as valedictorian before she’d even consider it, so we have to wait for that too.”

“I could compose you a theme song,” Eddie joined in. “Even benevolent dictators need a theme song.”

“Like from Star Wars?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, only more metal,” Eddie replied.

They spent the rest of the kitchen organisation assigning all the party to ridiculously cliched jobs within their new regime. It was as silly as it was fun and Steve almost managed to forget his anxieties … almost.

Then there was the sound of a key in the front door.

End of chapter 37

Chapter 38

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 5)

A/N: I have so many ideas so i’ve been getting these chapters out like clockwork !!

—

Once Belly got home, she ripped the boys a new one which was hilarious. Conrad just stood there and took the beatings while Jeremiah tried to reason.

Now, it was 1am and I couldn’t sleep. I could sleep if I really tried. My brain was swirling. I needed a drink. I rushed downstairs but didn’t make any noise. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone.

I went to go turn around, in hopes the shadow hadn’t seen me.

“You can stay.”

wow, thanks for allowing me to.

I spin on my heel to face their silhouette. “I didn’t mean to bother you..”

“It’s basically your house too, yn.” He doesn’t say this with sincerity or kindness, he says it cold. Like It was obvious. Fuck him. Honestly.

I place my hands on the island and sigh, “Why are you such an ass?”

He takes a swing at his beer bottle and then groans, “First Belly, and now you too? Fuck off.”

I felt my heart drop, not just to my stomach, but out my body. So far out I didn’t even want to look at him.

The boy that had been my best friend since I was ten, the first person I ever let see me cry, the boy who taught me how to dance when no one else would. Just looked me in the eye and said that. I felt like fucking throwing up.

“No wonder Aubrey broke up with you.” I said. He looked at me confused and I knew I had gotten him there. Me and Conrad didn’t talk for most of this year, and if we would’ve, then I would know about Aubrey.

I was listening to Steven on the phone a couple of months ago when I found out he had a girlfriend. Then I found out he broke up with her a couple of weeks ago.

He laughed a little, “Grow up, yn.”

“I hate you.”

I saw his face drop for a split second but then return to the cold face he had worn since I had gotten here.

“Okay, that’s great.”

I shook my head and stomped my way upstairs. I didn’t even want to be in the same house with him anymore.

—

Last Summer, Age 15 (Almost 16)

“yn?” I heard him call my name, but I just groaned. He closed my door and then sat next to me on the bed, keeping the lights off.

“Go away, Con.”

He giggled and brushed some hair out of my face. “Please, I wanna go to the beach.”

That’s when I opened my eyes. “Conrad, it’s like 3 in the morning.”

“But it might rain out, I’ve always wanted to see the beach while it’s raining.”

He was right, it never rained in cousins.

Don’t give in.

“Con—”

“Please?” He leaned in close to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

I felt my cheeks burn, for reasons I couldn’t decide. Not right now.

“Fine. Only because you won’t stop till I do.” No, I did it because he was my best-friend. Maybe even more.

He was still in his suit from the night before, we had all gone to a dinner and came home at 1am. Which was only two hours ago. His hair was ruffled and he looked really cute.

Once we got to the beach it was actually really cold. I was only wearing a shirt and plaid shorts because I thought it would be hot, but I was wrong. Just as we got there, I felt rain drops hit me.

That’s when I felt Conrad lace his fingers in between mine and before I knew it we were kicking each other in the sand. The rain started pouring and I couldn’t see much but I could see him. Always.

For some reason I thought of Belly, and then felt extremely guilty but pushed the thought out of my mind.

The rain stopped within minutes and then it became extremely humid. Soaked, we laid down on the beach, the sand sticking to both of us.

We were close. Really close. Not just like best friend close.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He whispered. I could tell he was embarrassed because he wouldn’t look at me.

“Of course.” I smile, “But you owe me.”

He smirks and I didn’t even realize he was still holding my hand. I didn’t pull away though.

When I woke up the sun was just starting to rise, and neither of us had brought our phones. I was guessing it was around 6am.

When we walked back to the house, it was silent. Not a bad silent though, like a really good one. A smile kept creeping up on my face as I caught Conrad look at me a couple of times. I even let a laugh slip.

“What?” He says through a smile.

“Nothing.” I begin, “This was just crazy..”

Our hands brushed against each other and before I knew it we were interlocked again. The summer house was silent and Conrad shushed me playfully as we walked in, trying not to wake anyone.

“Where have you two been?” A voice says and I immediately pull my hand away from Conrad. We were both smiling and It was hard to hide it.

“Uh, early morning walk on the beach I guess..” I lie.

“mhmm..” Susannah says through a smirk and Conrad’s cheeks go red.

I look at him and my heart is pounding, “I’m gonna.. go upstairs or something.”

“Yeah, you should do that or something.” He says while smirking.

I quickly rushed away and once I got to my room I slammed the door shut. I fell on my bed and texted Frankie that she needed to call me asap.

This felt different. At this moment I didn’t know If i wanted him like a best friend. Had I ever?

—

Present day:

Nothing could top my raging headache. I would bet a thousand times it was because of Conrad. If he had just left me alone, none of this would have happened.

But Conrad never left me alone, even if he tried.

I tossed on a pair of spandex and a cousins shirt, making my way down the stairs, I didn’t bother to bring my phone.

I needed to be at the beach, it calmed me.

As I walked down the steps to our private stretch, I saw the one and only, sitting in the sand. I thought about walking away but he didn’t own the beach, so I kept moving.

He noticed me but then quickly turned away, and I think he was embarrassed. I suppressed my smile and then sat down next to him.

“When did you get out here?” I ask.

“10 minutes ago.”

“Oh.” I say quickly.

We sat there in silence for a couple of minutes before he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his head half buried in his arms. He said it like a little kid who got caught stealing candy.

“For what?” I say, acting oblivious.

“Last night. I didn’t mean it.” He stammered the words so quick almost like he didn’t want me to hear it, of course, I heard.

He pulled his head out of his arms and grabbed a joint and began to light it. I decided to ignore this action.

“I’m sorry too.” I whisper.

I saw his eyes widen for a second but then return back to normal, then he put his joint away and gulped.

“Don’t be.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t want you too.”

For some strange reason I started laughing.

“What, what’s so funny?” He says.

“This is all so crazy.” I say, out of breathe. It was, everything was so crazy when it came to me and Conrad.

Conrad didn’t say anything because I knew he was thinking the same thing. About that night. Times like these I thought we would be okay, and that we could work everything out, but then I remembered everything, and Belly. I can’t do that to her.

—

Conrad went to go and grab some muffins, and eventually I went back to the house. Jeremiah was downstairs alongside Steven, Belly, Laurel, and Susannah.

Susannah turns to me once I walk into the kitchen, “Where have you been?”

I smile, “At the beach.”

Jeremiah looks around, “Hey, where’s Conrad?” I felt everyone’s eyes peer on me and I groan. “How would I know?”

“I bet you he’s smoking pot.” Steven blurts out. We all let out a laugh when all the sudden Conrad, of all people comes through the door with muffins.

“Anyone want some?” He perks up.

“Yes man! First muffin run of the summer.” Steven says, patting the counter in front of him. Conrad places the muffins on the counter.

Conrad looks at me and sends me a half smile, and I could tell that Susannah noticed. She knew.

Belly was happy, and she didn’t seem to notice me and Conrad’s interaction. It was probably because it was her birthday tomorrow.

I grabbed the blueberry muffin, and I slightly frowned when I didn’t see a birthday cake muffin. I felt a head lean over my shoulder and close to my ear.

“They didn’t have any, sorry.” Conrad whispered.

He had read my mind. He still remembered. Jeremiah looked at us weirdly and then continued to eat his muffin. Belly noticed this time. She frowned.

“It’s okay.” I mumble. I could feel his breath touch my ears.

Jeremiah sighed, “I gotta get to the club.” And with that, him and Steven were gone within minutes.

Susannah send a half smile to Conrad, “Connie, don’t you have to be at the marina soon?” Lessons with Cleveland. I had heard about that.

“Besides, I wanna paint you when you come back.” Susannah added.

Conrad scratched the back of his head, and suddenly looked nervous. “Okay.”

After he left, me and Belly were the only ones at the house. I suddenly had the crazy idea to go for a swim. It wasn’t exactly crazy, but it was still something.

So here me and Belly were in the pool, taking laps and occasionally stopping to talk. It was then when she asked me out of the blue, “Have you talked to Conrad recently?”

I felt tense, “Um, I mean not much since we got here.”

“Okay.” She replies. We sat their silent for a minute, and then she said. “He just seems off. And this morning I kinda got a vibe from you guys like you had talked.”

I suddenly felt annoyed. Now i could even talk to him? At one time we had been best friends, and now their were rules? I hated it. It was all ruined.

Breaking the silence, susannah rushed outside, “Girls!We have to go Debb dress shopping!”

Thank God for you, Susannah.

—

Debb shopping was pretty boring. The whole time I thought about me and Belly’s interaction in the pool. We were sisters. Cousins by blood, but sisters at heart. I loved her. I always will. So i’m lying about Conrad, about everything, to save her.

“That was beautiful.” Susannah said as Belly laid out on display for everyone like a doll. She looked great, but it wasn’t Belly. Belly liked simple, I was just picky.

Now it was my turn. My turn to show off. I didn’t want to, but here I was on display for everyone, just like Belly was mer minutes ago.

Belly smiled, “You look so beautiful.”

I looked into the side mirror. It was a beautiful silk white; with straps and not really much design. I loved it though, it was really flattering.

“This is a maybe, we can look for others.” Susannah said. But I loved it. Laurel could tell and so could Belly. All of the sudden I thought about dancing with Conrad. Then I just felt guilty.

—

Conrad’s Pov:

I walked back to the house after giving Cleveland lessons. I saw my mother out on the porch, ready with her painting brushes and canvas. I didn’t want to do it, but I did it for her.

“Sit, Connie” She said, smiling. I suddenly felt sad. But I sat anyways.

She began to paint me, but she had this smug look on her face that only Susannah could make look sweet.

“So, me and Laurel went dress shopping with the girls.”

I nodded my head, “Nice.”

“yn looked beautiful in her dress.” She basically spat out in a loving but flirty manner. I knew what she was doing.

“Belly, too.” She added, attempting to cover her tracks.

“Mom, i’m not doing this with you.”

“What? I cant question you a little bit? You and yn were so close.”

I felt the heat pool in my body.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Tell me at least what happened?” She pleaded.

“We grew apart.” I said, angrily. More than I had intended and then I just felt horrible because Susannah nodded and continued.

Great fucking job, Conrad.

—

That night, I wanted to swim again. But alone.

I got on my bikini, it wasn’t fancy or anything just a plain blue, I kinda blended in with the water.

I wasn’t as good as Belly, I wouldn’t take laps like her. Sometimes I would just dunk my head under the water and sit there. I used to pretend to be a mermaid when I was younger. Under the water all my problems went away, and I would even pretend like I was in the ocean.

I dunked my head under the water, and then came up for air after a couple of seconds. I jumped when I saw him there.

He was sitting on the edge of the pool, dipping his ankles in. “Conrad, you scared me.”

He smiled a little, but it wasn’t a innocent one. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine” I said awkwardly. I dipped my head back under to fix my part, because suddenly I was self conscious.

When I came back up, he was smoking a joint. I rolled my eyes. “You really need to stop that.”

He scoffed, “Why?”

“It’s not good for you, you know that.”

He smirked, “The only reason you knew that is because i told you. I taught you that.”

I felt my cheeks burn a little but it quickly went away, what was he playing at?

“I still think you should quit though.”

Then, he looked up at me and with this smug look on his face, he said, “What will you give me if I do?”

I wasn’t even under the water, but I felt like drowning.

I fucking hate him. I love him at the same time.

“Quit for yourself, jackass.” I dunked my head back under the water, but when I came up he was gone.

If I screamed, would anyone hear?

Tomorrow was Belly’s birthday, my sisters birthday. A day about her. No one else. Conrad could play all these games, but he would only be playing with himself.

Not me. Not anymore.

—

AHHHH guys I promise we’ll get to the drama soon! Anyways susannah knows something guys ;) what do you think happened with Conrad and yn? Next one out sooooon

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