#my god the summer though. unreal time

[eggmeralda]

listening to my february-june 2022 playlist which led to ⬇️

[weeknd-ogoc]

BEGGING ˳ ׄ ⟡  . CARLOS SAINZ JR.

SUMMARY: in which carlos suffers the consequences of liking an influencer who is younger than him. (part one / part two / part three) FACE CLAIM: kelsey calemine CONTAINS: reader is 21; 8 year age gap, jealous!carlos, lando crushing on reader, ex boyfriend!vinniehacker, oral receiving (m) & smut! AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is a little different than what i usually do so hopefully you guys like it! my requests are open!

ynusername

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username lord have mercy we must stay focused brothers we must stay focused

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⟡

you were currently on a secret mini getaway with an older forumla one driver — the both of you were not looking for anything serious right now so you'd secretly meet up every once in awhile.

"listen if you just say yes to lando, we can go on summer vacations together next year!" kika told you over the phone. "when was the last time you had a boyfriend and vinnie doesn't count!"

"whose vinnie?" you heard pierre whisper.

carlos sainz bit back a moan as you jerked his cock off in one hand and held your phone to your ear with the other. 

"keeks, i really don't need a boyfriend..."

he undid your bikini top as you continued to listen to your friend. "fuck..." you watched as he pinched your nipple. "i've never seen someone with better tits than yours.”

you smiled up at him before talking once more.

as much as he loved hearing your voice, right now was really not the time. "hang up befor-"

you playfully rolled your eyes at him and gave his tip a little kiss before you wrapped your mouth against his length once more but jumped up once again. "no way! he told pierre that?"

at this point he had clenched his jaw and tried to remember how long ago this conversation first started.

"hold on." you then looked up at carlos who had an unamused face. "did you know lando was going to ask me out on a date a few days ago?"

of coarse he knew.

"why do you think i brought you here." he mumbled and tried snatching your phone from your hand but failed. "please, i'm begging you to hang up..."

even though he wasn't looking for something serious, he didn't want to share the girl he was currently fucking.

you continued pumping his cock and talking to your friend until he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed you down his length causing you to let out a loud gag.

as you slapped his thigh, he overheard francisca ask if you were alright which he grabbed the phone out of your hand and put it up to his ear. "she's busy, she'll call you back later."

he let go of your head and you pinched his arm. "carlos, i swear somet-"

he shrugged as you tried complaining some more but he pulled you up from your knees and kissed you violently, saliva running down your mouth. "now let's take this off of you..." he said as he undid your bottom.

⟡

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⟡

a week later you had shown up to club with lando norris after a race in miami, kika had her arm intertwined with yours as you guys went to the bar to get a drink.

"you still haven't told me who the mystery boy was from the other day." she said as you sipped on your drink.

you shrugged. "it was carlos sainz..."

she smiled as she playfully slapped your arm. "oh not a mystery boy, it was a man! he's cute..."

before you could fill her in on all the juicy details, lando was already pulling you away. "i'm going to borrow her..."

lando and you had known each other for about a year now and even though you repeatedly told him that you weren't looking for anything serious, he was trying everything in his power to make you his.

carlos had arrived with rebecca but his eye was on you and he saw how lando would wrap his arm around your waist when a guy would try to talk to you.

that should be him wrapping his arm around you.

when he saw lando getting a bit too close to you, he walked over to you guys and you smiled at the sight of him. "carlos!" you gave him a hug and he hugged you a little tighter, the hug lasted a little longer than what lando expected so he gently pulled you back into him.

rebbeca gave you a small smile and held onto carlos's hand.

"how do you guys know each other?"

"pierre introduced us awhile back."

so the four of you sat in a booth and as the boys talked about the race results, rebbeca and you had small talks here and there.

"so you're twenty one?" she asked and you nodded. "pretty young..."

you nodded once again and swallowed down the drink that lando had ordered you awhile ago. you watched as they continued to talk and had an idea pop in your head, you couldn't lie carlos was looking really good right now.

so while rebecca left to use the restroom and lando went to get you another drink, you decided to tease him just a bit.

"how's your little date going?" he asked as he fixed a button on his shirt.

"not a date." you took your left heel off and began rubbing his leg with your foot.

carlos laid his eyes on and tried shaking your foot off. "don't start..."

after a few failed attempts of him trying to get you to stop, he finally let it go and your foot had finally landed on his crotch. "how's you're date going?"

you felt him getting hard and continued to rub on his clothed erection.

"c'mon let's get out of here, my hotel isn't that fa-"

before he could finish, lando was already on his way back with the drinks. you took your foot away from his erection and turned your attention to lando, “aw, you got my favorite!" you placed a kiss on his cheek and you heard carlos clear his throat.

once rebbeca came back, the four of you talked about different things until something from a distance caught your eye. "i'll see you guys in a bit, just have to say hi to someone..."

they both watched as you walked away and ended up at another booth with a boy who had on a shirt that was the same shade of pink as your dress, they saw as the boy kissed your cheek and you guys began talking — carlos knew who this guy was because he one time saw him comment under your page and he was just being nosy.

vinnie hacker.

⟡

ynspam

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⟡

carlos had shown up to your brand new house in los angeles a week earlier than expected, you had invited him to hangout for a few days the following week.

"carlitos! what are you doing here?" you smiled as he hugged you and placed a kiss on your lips.

you knew that little nickname drove him crazy.

he said it was surprise but the truth was he didn't want someone else hanging around you or your new house; someone else meaning vinnie or lando. you had been on his mind constantly, he felt like you were messing with his head.

“maybe you should stop seeing both of them...” his teeth pulled on the bottom of your lip. "just be with me." his fingers held onto your jaw as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

disconnecting your lips from his, you turned your face a bit "that wasn't part of our dea-" he had quickly began pulling down the little short you had on along with the thong you had, dragging his fingers through your folds. "fuck, what about reb-"

"theres nothing serious going on with her." he shrugged as his fingers pushed into your pussy. "c'mon hermosa, what do you say?"

since you had already took his boxers off, you had gotten on top of him and kissed his lips. "i'm all yours carlitos..."

you knew that carlos was very much into very rough sex with you so you were surprised when he went soft this time, it was actually really nice.

⟡

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ynusername he said he'd leave me home next time. ⛳️

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⟡

everything was going smoothly as you entered four months into your relationship, up until now when you guys finally had your first fight — carlos had taken you to meet his family for the week and let's just say you didn't get along with his mother.

"she's very beautiful carlos but that's not the type of girl you want to be seen with..." he remembered his mother telling him as he watched you play with his dogs in the backyard. "she's young carlos, why not find someone your age or finally rekindle your relationship with isa?"

"i think she's lovely..." his father said as he chewed on his food, earning him a glare from his mother. "she's beautiful, funny and i mean she sure knows how to cook a good meal."

the visit was about to be cut short when carlos had found you back in his room packing your bag. "she basically called me trashy carlos!"

he sighed and shook his head one. "she did not, my mother just said that it wasn't a very appropriate outfit to wear to dinner and you know i also told y-"

"well i'm twenty-one carlos, i'm not going to be dressing up like an old lady..."

the dress you had worn was just a tad bit too short but other than that nothing else was being revealed, carlos had no problem with the dress but he knew his mom probably wouldn't approve.

you had told him that you wanted to leave but he kept begging for you to just stay. "we have three more days left amor, please let's just stay..."

after a bit convincing he got you to stay and you tried to give it another shot but his mother was not cooperating with you and carlos had now seen it.

"it worked amor, she will be civil with you!"

you happily hugged him. "thank you! she's going to love me!"

"i know she will." he nodded and kissed the top of your head, you went on to say how you wanted to set up a breakfast for her in the morning but he quickly stoped you. "well just hold on to that idea, i have a surprise for you in the morning..."

⟡

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ynusername too pretty to stay home 🏌🏻‍♀️

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username y/n in her golfing era

⟡

carlos had invited lando golfing because he knew that the two of you got along pretty well considering what went on with the two of you in the past.

"glad it's not awkward since you know..." you joked as carlos wrapped an arm around you.

they both nodded. "the past is the past."

upon returning back to his parents's house, you were met with his family and isa sitting down at the dining table. "there they are! i invited isa to stay for dinner since you guys couldn't make it for breakfast..." his mother smiled at you and then back to carlos. "i did tell you about it last night, did you forget?"

you looked back at carlos who had a nervous smile on his face. "well um-"

"you've got to be kidding." you scoffed as you walked back into his room, packing whatever you could into your luggage once again.

he followed behind you and tried unpacking things. "amor por fav-"

"you lied to me carlos! you made me golf with lando while your ex was here having the time of her life with your parents." you took back the clothes form him and shoved them back in. "you had a totally different conversation with your mother than what you told me."

carlos sighed and wrapped and arm around you. "just please stay, one night and we will leave tomorrow morning..."

"so you want me to put on a smile and go sit with your ex girlfriend and my monster in law?" you threw one oh his shirts at his head but he caught it.

he sighed once again. "one night and we can work it out once we get out of here."

you groaned before nodding. "i will stay and we will leave in the morning but i will be going home, not to japan with you."

for the rest of dinner and the night you had been giving him the silent treatment and since the both of you rarely ever got into arguments, carlos wasn't sure how he was meant to fix things up with you.

he had two days to get you to come with him to japan and most importantly he had to get you to forgive him because he couldn't lose you.

carlos knew you different than any other girl he had ever been with in the past — yes you were a bit spoiled and sometimes a brat but he loved that about you, he cared so much about you and saw a real future with you.

my f1 & f2 masterlist!

© weeknd-ogoc, 2023

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[jewish-vents]

I’m Jewish through my dad but I wasn’t raised in the community(i learned what Purim was two weeks ago, i was fully not in it), so when I got to college last august I decided to really dive in and it’s been a beautiful sort of homecoming for me. I joined SAEPi and got into Chabbad leadership at my campus, and I’m almost at the point where I can do the Chabbad Shabbat prayers before and after dinner without stumbling over my words. Gonna surprise my grandma if I see her in the summer. Anyways.

When October 7th happened it was a shock to my system, because I was a baby Jew barely getting my feet. My parents never mentioned antisemitism to me as something that could affect me in the future, it was always a thing of the past. But I was right there standing in the doorway between jew-ish and Jewish, and it pushed me over the edge. I had many friends with family in Israel. I had a couple friends whose friends died in the attack. Everyone in that group was my family. It felt personal.

When the march in dc happened I went with one of my friends, and it was sad, but amazing to see in person how strong we are. In the plane terminal on the way home he and I got cornered and called baby killers, among other things, because he was wearing a kippa and his Israeli first responder coat. That was my first time experiencing antisemitism and it was terrifying, even though I didn’t get hurt. It was terrifying even though my friend was built like a tank and would’ve protected me. It was terrifying just to sit in the train car with him and watch a woman stare at him with wide eyes like he was some kind of criminal. I stepped closer to him as if to remind her he’s human. I stared back at her with just as much fear and watched her snap out of it, confused.

Last week was holocaust awareness week at my college, and one of the things I did was spend a couple hours in the plaza reading the names of people that died. I found 34 Feldmans and Fotts. I found family names, Chana and Fayge and Jeshua and Sophia Feldman one after the other, and still am wondering if that was part of my family that didn’t make it to the US in time.

I called my grandma and asked for everything she could remember about her family lineage and how we got here, everything she had from that part of her life. I thought that there would be plenty to lean into, family recipes and heirlooms and stories, but there was barely anything. She has a Star of David necklace and a ton of repressed memories, next to nothing else. The recipes I could find were through my great aunt, some short instructions from my great grandmother on the back of a letter she sent to the aunt about what to ask for from a kosher butcher.

My family made it here in 1915 and 1921, they escaped before the holocaust, but they still weren’t untouched because of the ways they were ostracized and othered when they got here. My grandmother will barely admit she’s Jewish because none of her kids passed it on, it’s easier for her to let it go. I didn’t understand this until I realized that one couldn’t be hurt by the grief and pain of a family they aren’t part of.

Even those that survive are not left unscarred.

How could this not be personal? How could it not be generationally affective when it’s pushed so many to minimize their Jewishness out of self preservation? Raise their kids thinking they aren’t Jewish and hope their names never end up on a list of living or dead Jews? People still don’t see us as human. the antisemites still want to scar us. They want us to forget who we are.

It’s unreal to me when goyim act like American Jews in the current day are unaffected by the past and safe from antisemitism. I’ve been here less than a year and have been screamed at in an airport, have uncovered serious intergenerational trauma, and realized that of my Jewish family I have nothing to hold on to but a torn in half piece of paper with a sentence long tangent about brisket.

We are strong and we will outlive them, but god are we still fucking fighting for our lives.

.

[rosewaterandivy]

Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

previous

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink. 

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words. 

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull. 

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment. 

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.” 

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest. 

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it. 

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was. 

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide. 

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up. 

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.” 

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair. 

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs. 

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.” 

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours. 

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile. 

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair. 

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly. 

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day. 

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate. 

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor. 

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees. 

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it. 

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink. 

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid. 

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest. 

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out. 

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”  

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.  

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough. 

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours. 

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it. 

So this is love, after all. 

Finis.

[robinsno1lesbian]

The way i want neighbor!robin to sneak through my window in the morning and wake me up with her tongue in between my thighs is a problem at this point (bonus points if reader was moaning her name when she came in through the window✨✨) -🍓

older!neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1415

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!!), oral (fem! receiving obviously), established cnc, a bit of fluff too? i guess?, did not proofread AT ALL + wrote it in a rush (let me know if i missed anything :))

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: second drabble today- i hope this gets close to what you've imagined! also this turned out kinda soft-ish?! idk how that happened but i hope you don't mind lmao

she knows she should stay away. she has to stay away. the little situationship the two of you have started is growing into something much bigger; stolen glances across the fence, sneaking around each other's houses at night, muffled moans and stolen kisses... it wasn't supposed to go this far. she wasn't supposed to feel this way. and yet here she is, sitting on her bed in the early morning hours, wishing you were here.

robin feels like a damn child and she wants to hate herself for that; for her stupid little longings. she doesn't though. and that makes it all even worse. she groans and grabs a pillow to put over her face in frustration. why did you have to look so damn good in that summer dress the first time she laid her eyes on you? why did you have to smile so sweetly when she caught your eye? why did you take her hand in yours and caressed her knuckles when no one was looking?

even with her eyes shut underneath the fabric of the pillow, images of you are vividly playing behind her eyelids. your scent, your eyes, your hair, the way you taste on her tongue... none of it fades... "god, fuck" robin gets up, and throws on a pair of wide jeans and a top before running down the stairs and right out of the front door. the sun hasn't fully risen yet but offers enough light for her to see perfectly fine.

and even if it wasn't, robin has done this enough times to find her way into your room blind. she swings over your fence swiftly before making her way around the house to the backside, where she can climb up to the window of your room. it is an easy doing really, as if some higher power wanted it this way. she chuckles at the absurdity of that thought while she pushes herself up. what kind of higher power would want this...? would want her to climb through the window of her neighbor to watch her sleep? because that's what she's here for. just to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. nothing else. robin is delighted to see that you have left your window open and climbs through it quietly. her feet meet the wooden floor with a thud and just like that, she's inside.

she looks through the room to find that you're still asleep, unbothered by the noise of her entering. and yet, there's a strange noise coming from you. robin narrows her eyes and steps closer, careful to avoid any further sounds. she's right; your lips are parted slightly and your breath is quicker than usual. you must be dreaming, she concludes with a grin. dreaming of something really good, judging by the way your hips are rutting ever so shily. the idea of just watching you sleep is thrown out of the window when a soft "yes robin" leaves your mouth. robin sits down on the edge of your bed with a grin. she puts a hand to your thigh, your blanket thrown aside by your movement, and strokes upward slowly. goosebumps rise under the touch and she smiles. as it seems, an imaginary robin is making you feel those things in your dreams. and while she is happy to see that you're hers even when you're dreaming, robin knows she could make you feel much better than this unreal version of her. she hooks her fingers in the hemline of your shorts. you are spread out on your back and it is easy for her to slip them down and off your body. she throws them over her shoulder carelessly before allowing her gaze to wander over your bare lower half. robin hums when she sees the arousal that has pooled between your legs. she licks her lips and bends your legs at the knees, her palms on the back of your thighs to keep them spread open for her. you're still asleep but your hips are grinding down at a more rapid pace now, chasing whatever your dream-robin is giving you. she holds your legs up and starts kissing your inner thighs, earning a gasp from you. robin makes sure to suck some of the skin into her mouth to leave light marks all over you, before her nose nudges your center. she can scent your arousal, which is sending a wave of heat straight down to her own lower abdomen. she has gotten you this turned on, without even being here herself. the fantasy, the mere thought of her, gets you like this.

without any further undo, she puts her tongue down to your dripping entrance and licks a long stripe through you.

the moan this draws from you causes robin's head to spin. she places a kiss to your clit before her lips wrap around it and she sucks the bundle of nerves into her mouth. she is coaxing sweet noises out of you with each suck of her lips and she can feel the arousal growing against her chin. once she has given your clit the proper attention, her mouth moves lower again, her kisses lingering over your entrance for a moment before she sticks her tongue out. all softness is gone at the very first taste of you. robin moans louder than she should, her eyes rolling back when your arousal coats her tongue. she watches your face and how your eyes move under their lids. she wonders what imaginary-robin is doing to you and if her tongue is adding the desired effect to it. "you taste so good, fuck" she whispers. one of your legs is thrown over her shoulder so that your cunt is on full display for her. robin can't help herself but grind down into the mattress for some kind of friction against her own center. suddenly, she feels your hands in her hair, brushing through the blonde strands before pulling you closer. "robin...?" your sleepy voice sounds. your eyes are still closed as if you aren't sure whether this is really happening or not. "yeah..." robin replies softly. "don't worry sweet girl, let me take care of you..." you hum in response and nod your head. "please" she picks up her pace immediately, her tongue fucking into you and your hands tightening in her hair. "robin- oh- oh god-" you can hardly believe that you're waking up to the magic that is robin's mouth between your thighs. and yet here you are. her tongue is urging you closer and closer to your release. you must've been close in your sleep already, otherwise your orgasm wouldn't start coiling in your body just yet. "robin fuck" you mumble, finally opening your eyes to see her. her hair is a beautiful mess and your wetness is smeared all across her chin. you can see her own hips grinding down and hear the way she is moaning softly against your pussy. the image is enough for the knot in your body to snap. you cry out and your back arches off the mattress when your release ripples through you. robin helps you through it, licking each and every drop of arousal you're giving her. you cover your mouth with your hand, absentmindedly realizing that you're still in your parents' house and they could still very much hear you. eventually, you pull her head from your cunt and give it another tug, signalizing her that you want her close. she crawls up your body until her head lingers over yours. "good morning" she whispers. "'morning" you mumble sleepily. robin leans down and kisses your lips softly. so softly that you can't help yourself but pull her all the way down on top of you, both of your hands wrapping around your neck. you can still taste your own release on her tongue when it slips past your lips. eventually, your mouths part and you lean back to get a good look at her. your thumbs stroke over her cheeks as you give her a smile. "what time is it?" "still early" she whispers back. "i just- missed you...i guess?" "oh yeah-?" you chuckle. "yeah" she nods and pecks your lips again. "couldn't stop thinking about you..."

"well...me neither...and, mind you, i was asleep" "lucky you that i came here at the right time" robin leans closer and starts kissing down your neck. you can't help yourself but laugh at the tickling sensation and throw the blanket over both of your bodies, excited to see where this might go...

[litgwritersroom]

can you please write the background story of ozzy hooking up with the mystery celebrity??

LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN

Ozzy / MC - 5000+ words - @mrsbsmooth NSFW

It’s professional. It’s strictly professional.

Ozzy rolled his neck, stretching the tension from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous.

Being a choreographer was his dream job. The choreography videos he’d posted on social media had been fun to make, but he’d never imagined he’d get this big. Dance classes with a waitlist four months long. Invitations to choreograph music videos and international tours. Working one-on-one with celebrities and popstars, all to great success.

But he’d never worked with someone as famous as Brooke Barrow.

Millions of fans. Tens of millions of albums sold. A twenty-country international tour that had fans getting in fistfights over merchandise. And in just a few minutes, she’d take the podium as the biggest celebrity he’d ever taught.

He cast his eyes around the studio one final time, wiping a smudge from the floor-to-ceiling mirror with a silent curse. Did he have time to go over the whole thing again? He checked his phone. No. But he did have a text from Marshall.

Snogged yer worldie yet?

He frowned.

She’s not my worldie. She’s a client, he typed. This is professional.

The dots danced at the bottom of his screen as the reply came instantaneously. Professional my arse. I can feel you sweating from Essex.

Ozzy rolled his eyes, setting his phone to do-not-disturb.

Maybe it wasn’t strictly professional.

All the celebrities he worked with were gorgeous, but she was like something out of his imagination– though he supposed he wasn’t alone. Curves like murder, eyes wide and innocent, skin like a summer evening; bronze and glowing and warm. Hair like silk, and lips you couldn’t help but want to bite down on. FHM, Maxim and Playboy had tried beating her door down for years, not one of them successful; her “good girl” image hadn’t aligned with the type of photo spreads they’d want to put her in.

But things had changed. The label said she wanted a rebrand; a sexier, more grown-up persona better suited to her now 22-year-old self. The issue was that the label thought she had absolutely no idea how to look hot when she danced. She needed help to nail it for her next video.

And she’d requested him specifically.

They’d spoken on the phone many, many times, to clarify the vibe she was after, or discuss the preparations and stretches she should be doing beforehand. They got along great. She was a professional, but still wonderfully friendly, something he’d come to understand was rare among celebrities. She put on those sequin shorts she was famous for one leg at a time. There was nothing to be nervous about.

He made the last few adjustments to the studio, breathing steadily to calm himself down. He had the choreography down, he’d recorded it and it had been approved by her management team. Everything was set and ready to go. He just had to teach her how to do it, that was all.

But as the studio door flung open, he suddenly felt a little queasy.

God Damn.

Her perfectly curated Instagram had nothing on what she looked like in person. She was unreal, a loose, white t-shirt hung off her shoulders, exposing the hint of her brown skin. The flash of a black sports crop stretched over her perky breasts. Tiny, skin-tight shorts he was sure Lululemon never intended to be so pornographic, and heels; sky high, lace-up heels he’d told her to wear, knowing she’d need to be dancing in them on stage.

He had to avert his gaze, shaking some sense into himself as he greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Brooke,” he said, as politely and professionally as he could. “I’m Ozzy, great to finally meet you.”

“Ozzy!” she grinned, smiling with recognition. She took his hand, shaking it gently, but didn’t immediately let go. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you in person, I really am such a fan.”

Ozzy’s eyebrows shot up. “A fan… of… mine?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Huge fan. I swear, about 50% of the views on your Youtube videos are from me and my friends.”

“Well, thank you,” he laughed, feeling a lot more at ease. “That’s really nice to hear. I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“Enjoy is one way to describe it. My friends would call it “drooling over…” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. She bit her lip, and he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

…What?

He couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins. Jeez, his dancing had helped him with women in the past, but… he definitely hadn’t expected—

Was Brooke… flirting with him?

He was suddenly a little at a loss of what to do. Flirting back would’ve been insane, not to mention crazy unprofessional. He couldn’t get a rep for flirting with his students. But… he knew this choreo– he’d created it himself. It wasn’t exactly “leave room for Jesus” type of dancing. So maybe a little harmless flirting would help her to feel less… exposed.

He glanced down at their still-enclosed hands, and looked back up at her, only vaguely trying to hold back the heat in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, a cool confidence in his voice. “I’ve obviously seen all of your music videos, too. Maybe we should leave it at that… for now.”

He held her gaze, and she bit those beautiful lips again, his eyes lingering on them. Brooke released his hand with a coy smile, placing her bag down on the floor in the corner of the studio. She pulled a water bottle from it, wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece of it, tapping it gently against her lips after taking a sip.

“So,” she said. “Where do we begin?”

*

Ozzy showed her every move, running her through it in sets, slowing her down and adjusting her position as she followed along.

But she wasn’t getting it.

She was rigid. Stiff, even, like she was embarrassed to fully let go.

“I’m so screwed,” she groaned, flopping to the floor to take a drink of water.

“No, you’re not,” Ozzy chuckled, sitting down alongside her. “You’ve got the steps down perfectly. You’re just too stiff.”

She sighed, tucking her leg underneath her as she turned to face him. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make being sexy so fucking easy?”

Ozzy’s eyebrows twitched upward, and he couldn’t help but look her over once more. God, she looked so fine with a sheen of sweat over her body, the glow on her skin like she’d been kissed by sunlight.

“You’ll get it. You just need to loosen up. Let go a little.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know how,” she complained, pouting at him.

He laughed, getting to his feet. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He reached out his hand, helping Brooke to her feet, and she let him pull her up with a huff.

Ozzy led her to the mirror which spanned the breadth of the wall, turning her to look at herself.

“Okay, do the leg sweep.”

Brooke did a rigid leg sweep, her hands firmly on her hips.

He raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t jazz dance, Brooke. Make it slutty.”

She giggled, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he smiled.

“Oh, God, how on earth do I do that?”

Ozzy frowned at her. “Come on, Brooke, you’ve seen people dance seductively. Arch your back. Swing your hips. Run your hands over your body.”

He counted her in, and she tried, running her hands awkwardly up her body. She turned, looking hopefully at him, and he shot her a look of disbelief. Brooke blushed, and Ozzy shook his head, teasing her with his gaze to let her know it wasn’t that serious.

Then, he had an idea.

He’d used it many times, and it always worked. Every single time. He switched to the playlist one of his dancer friends had made him. She said it went hard in the Basildon dance crowd.

“You like clubbing, right?”

“...Yeah?”

“How do you dance in the club?”

“Awkwardly.”

Ozzy laughed. “I highly doubt that.”

Brooke grinned at him. “Yeah, alright, I’m probably a little more relaxed. But I’m usually drunk. And it’s dark.”

Without another word, Ozzy walked over to the door, and switched the lights off.

The studio plunged into darkness, the only light the emergency light over the exit. It was perfect, casting a deep red glow over the room, leaving her in almost full darkness. That deep maroon was the only thing allowing him to see her, and even then, only just. He hit play on the remote once more, smiling as the lyrics started.

Nails, hair, hips, heels, ass fat, lips real

Purse full, big bills, bitch I'm a big deal

Ozzy turned the volume almost to the max, and he took her hand.

“Pretend I’m not here,” he said. “It’s just you, dancing with your friends. Or dancing around your kitchen. No one’s paying attention. No one else is here.”

Ozzy started moving on his own to encourage her, and after only half a minute, he saw Brooke starting to move as well. She was hesitant, but quickly realised she could barely see him, gaining the confidence to start subtly dancing in time with the music.

“Yes,” he smiled. “That’s it.”

She huffed a small laugh, moving a little more confidently.

“Now you’re gonna walk,” he said, moving back across the room. “Or more like…, strut. Towards me. Step to the music.”

“What’s that gonna do?” she asked.

“Get you in touch with your body. And make you feel confident. Toss your hair over your shoulder, stop to dance, do whatever feels right. Just move in time with the music.”

He could just make her out in the low light, her brow furrowed as if she wasn’t sure, but he smiled encouragingly at her. As his eyes began to adjust, he saw her walking toward him, the click of her heels on the studio floor perfectly in time with the beat.

“Great!” he called, “Keep going!”

He began walking backwards around the room, drawing her towards him, and Brooke began laughing.

“You’re moving away!”

“Yeah, I know. Keep coming to me.”

“Ozzzzyyy–” she complained. “I feel stupid!”

“Good thing no one can see you, then, isn’t it?” he teased.

It wasn’t long before she started letting go a little.

As Todrick Hall started instructing her through the song, she started following along.

Drop for me, drop for me, drop

Pose for me, pose for me, pose

Striking dramatic, confident poses, or pausing to do a dramatic slut-drop, she was laughing her head off in no time, loosening up her movements as he finally stopped moving away. Brooke was having so much fun, she didn’t notice him stop, colliding into his chest with a thud.

“Oof,” he groaned, catching her by the upper arms, laughing.

“Oh my God, sorry!” she giggled. “I was getting too into it.”

“Good!” He grinned. “It’s a good exercise to get in the right headspace.”

“Can we keep going?” she said. “That was really fun.”

He slipped the remote from his pocket, hitting next, and Brooke burst out laughing as a deep, sultry rhythm started.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “Is this Buttons? Whose playlist is this?”

“Mate of mine. She loves making dance playlists. This one’s called ‘Hoe town, population me’.”

Brooke burst out laughing. “And you thought that was a good playlist to put on for me?”

Ozzy suddenly blushed, absolutely embarrassed that she might think he’d done that on purpose.

“God, Brooke, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Shhh!” She laughed. “It’s exactly the vibe I need. I love this song.”

She took his hand, twirling herself underneath it, swaying in time with the beat. She was rolling her head around, relaxed and carefree, her shoulders beginning to follow as she sang along to the lyrics. And as she sang, he couldn’t help but watch her.

You've been saying all the right things all night long

But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off

The way her mouth formed every word, her tongue flicking gently and her teeth biting at her lip as she began to move. Jesus Christ, she was sexy. He felt his body starting to react as she joined her hands with his, lifting his hands into the air between them. He couldn’t help but step a little closer, bringing them to the side as her body heat began to radiate against his.

Brooke began winding her body, moving her hips in time with the music. She lifted his arms again, turning herself underneath them, and wrapped them around her shoulders. He tried to keep some distance between them, knowing they didn’t need to be dancing so closely, but before he knew it, she’d pressed back against him, their bodies moving together.

“Can you show me how to do those body rolls you were doing before?” she asked, her voice soft and innocent.

Jesus, he was getting hot under the collar.

“Sure,” he said, pulling her just the necessary amount closer. He reached around her, pressing her back into him. “Chest first, shoulders back, then arch your back, pushing your stomach forward. Roll it through, then grind your hips back.”

He pressed his chest into her back, his hand pressing her shoulders back against him. He rolled her with him, her body bending flawlessly with his, ending with her guiding her world-famous ass back.

Directly into his crotch.

She had it straight away, rolling her body against his in a way that had him glancing up at the ceiling for mercy. Her perfume was intoxicating, rich and sweet like caramel and sea salt, and he inhaled deeply as she pulled her hair to the side. He could still hear her singing; it was like a distraction to her, pulling her out of the studio and onto the stage.

Take a chance to recognise that this could be yours—

She began to grind herself back against him, and his heart began to race for real. She felt so good against him, her hips winding into his… but his mind kicked back in.

Professional. Shit. Keep it professional.

“Looser,” he whispered. “Let go of your hips.”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping a little as she immediately became disheartened.

“I can’t do this,” she said, exasperated.

“Brooke,” he said. “You can.”

“I can’t,” she said, stopping altogether. “I just can’t move my body like you can.”

Ozzy frowned to himself. She was almost there when she thought no one was watching. Whenever it was just her and the music, she was perfectly on beat, playing and having fun with it, moving with flawless rhythm. It would take so little to get her there. He just needed to get her out of her own head. Relax her. Get her thinking about something else entirely. He swallowed, hard. Because there was only really one way he could think how.

People acted differently depending on how they were feeling, and there was one mood that he knew would help her. The one that curbed shame and increased risk-taking.

He could turn her on.

“Would it help if I guided you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Please,” she groaned.

“I’ll have to touch you a bit though. Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, “but I don’t think–”

Brooke’s voice cut off halfway as he pulled her body flush to his, and she gasped a little at his sudden taking of control.

“Hips,” he demanded. ”Roll them, like you were before.”

He gently brushed her hips, but her movements were static, so he gripped her harder, guiding her firmly into the movement he wanted to see. Side to side, in a one-two grind, swaying her with the music.

“Oh,” Brooke said, her voice quiet. “So…”

He felt her begin rocking into his hands, and he leaned in closer, speaking into her ear so she could hear him over the music.

“Yes,” he hissed. “That’s it. Now hands.”

He didn’t wait for her to try, taking her hands and placing them on her stomach.

“Run them up your body,” he said, covering them with his own. “Touch yourself like you would want someone else to touch you.”

He traced her hands over her taut stomach, guiding them up over her ribs, brushing her breasts and squeezing them with her own hands. Brooke gasped, but Ozzy didn’t stop, dragging them up over her collarbones and onto her neck. He splayed them on her skin, threading them into her hair.

“Ozzy,” she whimpered.

“Don’t be afraid to get into it,” Ozzy whispered. “If it turns you on, you’re doing it right.”

Brooke’s breath fell heavy, and he released her hands, letting her guide them over herself. He watched her in the mirror, her face glowing in the soft, red light, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as she closed her eyes. Her hands threaded back into her own hair, and she tugged on it gently, trailing her hands onto her collarbones. She traced her fingers across them, and moved downward, her touch falling heavier on her breasts. She squeezed them together, much harder than he had, and kept going. Lower and lower, over her stomach, trailing down her waist, her hands like a magnet for his gaze as she directed them to the space between her legs. She spread them, bending low to the floor, and traced her hands up the back of her thighs, scratching her nails into the skin. She arched her back, touching herself over and over again.

And Ozzy realised he’d stopped dancing.

All this, right in front of him, an arm’s reach away but feeling like miles. Her body was so effortless, moving with all the beauty and elegance of someone who’d been dancing for a lifetime. He was absolutely entranced by her, the heat in his body like a fire in his blood.The song ended, and for a moment, the trance was broken. But as the next one started, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen. Doja Cat was going to make sure of that.

The beat was low; seductive and sensual and sex in music’s form, and Brooke turned, gazing at him with deep, hooded eyes. She was in his arms before he could even pull her closer, her body pressed back against his as they began to move as one. He wrapped his arms around her waist, that intoxicating perfume curling into him once more, groaning as Brooke took his hands in hers.

She placed his hands on her, covering them with her own, just as he had, and began guiding him over her skin. Her hips, her waist, under her t-shirt, pushing them onto her breasts.

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say

"Boy, let me be your woman"

Every drop of blood in his body was rushing south, and he grasped her in a way that was wholly unprofessional, knowing she could feel what she was doing to him. He moved her hair to the side, dropping his lips to her neck, dragging them from behind her ear down to her shoulder. God, he wanted to bite her, her skin tasted exactly like her fragrance, the sweetest caramel with the delicious taste of her sweat.

“Ozzy,” she whispered, gasping for a breath as she reached behind her head and threaded her fingers through his hair.

Jesus, this was already going way too far, but he couldn’t help himself. One hand was on her breast, stroking her rapidly hardening nipples through her bra. The other on her stomach, toying with the waistband of her shorts. Brooke was grinding her ass against him with a wind that would put professionals to shame, the roll of her body against his only drawing more and more heat from his breath. He had to stop this. He had to stop before it went too–

Before he knew it, she’d turned, and her lips were on his.

Ozzy picked her up, and a moment later, he had her against the wall, holding her thigh around his waist as he held her legs apart. Brooke’s hands were in his hair, holding him against her as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, whimpering with need as he began rolling his hips against hers. She tugged at his shirt, and he gladly let her pull it over his head, drawing an irresistible whimper from her as she traced her fingers over his abs. He pulled hers over her head as well, tossing it across the room, before pushing his hands into her sports bra.

“Fuck, yes,” she gasped, “Yes, Ozzy, please!”

He lifted the tight fabric higher, exposing her to him, and leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth. She held his head to her, her back arched, moaning with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Brooke reached down, slipping her hand into his sweats, stroking her fingers down his length as he groaned into her skin.

“Oh my Goddddd,” she moaned as she traced his full length. “I knew it, I fucking knew it.”

He couldn’t help it, his body completely on fire with every kiss of her palm against his tip. He couldn’t take it any more. He curled his arm around her waist, sliding it into the tiny shorts that had been tormenting him since the moment she walked in, and he took a handful of her ass for himself. He rolled the fabric down his wrist, exposing her, before pushing the shorts all the way down. She reached down, tugging them far enough down that they fell to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. She reached down for her shoes, but he stopped her, turning her face toward his.

“Leave them on.”

Naked except for her pushed-up sports bra and lace up heels, she stood like a goddess in front of him, every curve and angle of her body bathed in a cherry-red glow. His fingers traced her outline, admiring her for the work of art she was, before lingering on the heat radiating from between her legs. He pressed his fingers against her clit, starting a slow, steady rhythm, holding her legs open with his own as he pressed his hard length against her leg.

She tugged his sweats down, pulling him closer, and before he could even think about what he was doing, she was guiding his tip to her entrance. He captured her lips with his, groaning at how wet she was, and began to push inside her.

Brooke whimpered and moaned at his size, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, kissing her softly.

She let her head fall back, exposing her neck to him, an opportunity he gladly took as he began kissing up and down it.

“No,” she groaned. “Oh my God, Ozzy, give me all of it.”

So he did.

Brooke gasped with each thrust, whimpering and moaning his name as if he was her favourite song, and he couldn’t help his eyes rolling back as he savoured her. Every roll of his hips was met by one of hers, drawing forward to meet him as if she couldn’t bear for him to not be inside her.

Jesus, he couldn’t believe she thought she couldn’t dance.

“Ozzy,” she groaned, and he paused for a moment, hearing the pain in her voice. “My heels. My feet are–”

Shit, he hadn’t even realised, capturing her thigh in his hand meant she’d been balancing on one heel. He released her, and she dropped to her knees, laying back on the studio floor, her hands against the wall. Ozzy kneeled in front of her, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist, urging him back toward her. He pressed back into her, his hands on either side of her body, and something came over him.

He’d never had a one-night stand before, it wasn’t his vibe. And almost as if he’d only just realised what he was doing, he paused for moment, looking down at Brooke’s exposed body.

Damn. He’d never had a one night stand before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

He was just going to have to make sure this wasn’t a one-night stand.

Ozzy smirked a little, glancing up at Brooke’s hands to make sure she was holding her hands steady against the wall…

And he danced.

He gave her every movement of his body that he had; hips, torso, thighs; rolling his body into her as he drew himself in and out of her, over and over and over. Brooke’s body wrenched underneath him, begging him with her thighs, squeezing him tightly as she held herself off the wall.

She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror to their side, and she gasped, panting his name with every thrust as she watched him build her toward her peak.

“Fuck, fuck,” she gasped, her voice damn near at a cry, every breath like a wave of curses and groans as she tried to hold back. “Ozzy, fuck, I’m gonna–”

She whimpered, her mouth falling open, and he almost chuckled at how fast he’d brought her there. But he couldn’t help but groan in response as she tightened around him, her strong thighs squeezing his waist as her walls gripped his length inside her.

“Oh Jesus, Brooke, yes,” he whispered, throwing his head back as he guided her through the waves of her climax. He gently slowed as she came down, rolling softly into her so as not to overstimulate her. But almost as soon as she’d taken a breath, she opened her eyes.

She looked up at him with the deepest, hooded eyes he’d ever seen, her full lips parted and her lips wet from his kiss.

“On your back,” she whispered.

Ozzy’s eyebrows raised, and before he could even tell her she didn’t have to, she had him on his back. Brooke slid him back into her, and he smiled up at her…

Until she started moving.

Up. Down. Forward. Back. Side to side and directions he didn’t even know existed. She was a full-body experience, her hips grinding into his, her hands gently caressing and scratching at his chest as she worked herself over him.

“Je–sus–christ,” he gasped, grasping for purchase with each grind of her hips. “Brooke, fuck!”

Her lips fell open, moaning as she watched him underneath her, and she glanced one more time at the mirror. He turned his own head, glancing at their reflection, and almost lost control. Every curve was on full display, her back arched, her breasts exposed, her every movement captured in glass and reflected back at him as he watched her ride him.

She caught his eye in the mirror, biting her lip and moaning as she took him especially deeply.

“Oh, God, Ozzy, you feel so good,” she gasped.

Ahh, Jesus, he was close.

He tried to slow her down, but Brooke had no interest in it, closing her eyes and lifting her pace. So he did the only thing he could do.

He started thrusting back into her.

He fell into her rhythm, meeting her hips with every movement, echoing and mirroring and taking back the lead. His hands left her hips, and he reached for her hands, bringing them to her breasts.

“Touch your body,” he demanded. “Brooke, touch yourself.”

She whimpered, squeezing her breasts the way she’d shown him before that she loved, and Ozzy grabbed her hip once more. He guided her with one hand, thrusting up into her, and brought his other hand to her clit, grinding his fingers against her as he watched her rolling her nipples through her fingers.

Jesus, the visual was too much, and he could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He was so close, dancing so close to the edge, holding back for her, desperate to–

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Brooke, shit, shit–”

“Ozzy–”

With a sudden heave of her body, Brooke snapped, her head falling back as she came a second time. The tightness surrounded him, and he couldn’t have held back if he wanted to, exploding in a wall of gasping moans as he bucked up into her. The beat of the music pumped through him, the roll and wind of their hips together like a wave of ecstasy that they rode each other through. His fingers left marks on her hips, grinding her back into him with some unholy urge to come as deep into her as possible, and it only drew a darker gasp from Brooke’s lips.

They stayed like that for what seemed like an age, their hips rolling in perfect unison as they came down from the high together. Brooke collapsed on top of him, her body soft and limp against his, and he wrapped her up in his arms, completely at a loss of what to say.

“That was fucking incredible,” Brooke said, panting heavily into his chest. “If that’s what dancers can do, I need to get better at dancing.”

Ozzy laughed, stroking her back. “You seemed to have pretty good control of your hips from where I’m standing?”

Brooke lifted her head, glaring playfully at him, and smiled. “Glad you think so… now. But I think I can get even better.”

He kissed her gently, smiling back, a little amused at his own boldness. “Well, you’re doing classes with me five times a week for the next two weeks. So…”

Brooke giggled, and leaned over him, kissing him deeply. He groaned into her soft lips, holding her to him, stroking his hand through her hair before releasing her. She bit her lip, an adorably excited look in her eyes, and grinned at him.

“It’s a date.”

[x-manson-annotated]

X-Manson Annotated Chapter 5 - Part One: INFILTRATORS.

Holy shit, the final chapter. This is where I really like a lot of concepts. The Avengers make a proper appearance and everyone's favorite sapphic Carol Danvers has a shitty time. See the reblogged version for the rest of it, since Tumblr has a limit on only 30 images.

If i'm not mistaken, this places the year that Kitty is watching the documentary as 2000 whereas before it said "Present Day" or "Today" . This places Kitty and Dani at probably 23 and 26 respectively.

**Dwight Hammer, like all cops is a goddamn moron.

Paid Schill.

1999 the y ear of the raid? Xavier's psychics forcing people to confess to murders that they didn't commit?

*I'm not sure if Dolores is a reference to someone special or just a filler character.

**I don't know why the spelling of her name with the 'e'. I've looked at multiple versions of the story and that detail remains in all of them.

**ALIENS EXIST IN THE CULT AU.

Motherfucking Carol Danvers!

*I'm not totally sure if that's something Supergirl used to be like.

** Rogue. I'm not sure who the intelligence agency is, since SHIELD seems to be a known quantity in the world.

*** That isn't really a thing she's known for either.

*Carole uses that very insistent phrase "the Kree that fucked me up". In the comics, she gained her abilities from an explosion that mixed her DNA with Mahr-Vel. So, is it possible in this au the Kree intentionally experimented on her?

**Pretty green eyes convince Carole Danvers that Rogue isn't a tech. Gay as hell behavior, champ.

***Further gay behavior. Much less traumatic loss of her powers as opposed to what happened to her in the comics.

*This is referencing her lesbianism within the story. I don't know if this is Benway's potentially homophobic perspective on Carole's sexuality, or if it's meant to be a purely in-universe sense of present homophobia.

Rogue's Mom, Destiny is being a cryptic old biddy. She's present twice the story, but Mystique isn't. Maybe she died a while back after some encounter with the cult, resulting in Rogue being sent in as an agent. But, that's just my headcanon.

*See.

**Rogue gave Carole a type.

**Why didn't she decay? Because of Carole's powers?

***Destiny was able to see that Carole was going to fuck her shit up by kissing Rogue's corpse, but not that Rogue would get murdered? Like, c'mon, that's your daughter.

*I might be right.

**I'm so fucking sick of Vance taking every single incorrect lesson from his life. Of course, she was angry, Vance. She was in near-constant pain, you unbearable prick.

***Probably doesn't help that she was being cryptic about what happened.

*I still love how angry he is with American spy agencies.

*Possibly this universe's version of Freedom Force?

Xavier loaning out cult members for odd jobs?

*Sorry HOXPOX fans, Moira isn't a mutant.

**So that's where they're potentially filling up their ranks?

***My immediate thought was Gambit both because of the title and the New Orleans connection. This might also be Amahl Farouk, who has a history of employing pickpockets, but he was based in Egypt. Though, I don't want to discount him totally because of my biased headcanon.

*Tracking the cult's activity from the ground up. But, how is the cult going to all of these places constantly? How far spread are they outside of Westchester?

** Nice to know that Black Tom exists in this au. Hope he and Cain have a summer cottage together somewhere on the coast where they can grow old together, far away from any of this cult horseshit.

Spain

Morocco

Romania

Hungary

Yugoslavia

Westchester, New York.

So, Sean was likely trying to infiltrate them after making contact in Yugoslavia and then ended up being inducted into the cult, proper.

That is so goddamn scary it's unreal.

*was their a psi on the isles manipulating the local Interpol agents? Can Xavier or Cable stretch their influence that far?

*Rahne Sinclair

*I just now noticed that Terry in this story is eleven. My god. That's an especially horrifying ordeal at that age.

*if Sean was pleading, it's possible that either they didn't have him under psychic control yet (not coring him) or the distance allowed the connection to break. But who else is with Logan that's coercing Sean into action?

*She could tell almost immediately that Rahne was a mutant and not some kind of freakish dog.

The river to confuse Logan's tracking ability?

*Rahne's home in the woods.

*They don't see her transform in the dark, but she can take on a human or at least human adjacent shape. Rahne Sinclair is a saint.

First Voice, Unknown.

Second Voice, Logan.

*My first instinct was that this is Sean, but Moira would have clarified if it were. Maybe it's Cable or Piotr?

**Rahne can take on a human shape, but is functionally feral and cant understand human language.

*Logan's voice again.

**Cars everywhere. Some of them look burned. Sunfire? Is the second voice Sunfire?

*Christ alive, they massacred ten whole police officers and special forces agents.

Logan sticking around to threaten the family by leaving shreadded vehicles around? Why not murder them?

[starsinthesky5]

OKAY HERE FOR MY SHORT AND SWEET THOUGHTS.

overall: … this album. this fucking album. ONE OF A FUCKING KIND. idk what the fuck she put in this album, but IT IS A LITERAL DRUG. sabrinia carpenter, the WOMAN YOU ARE. THIS IS AN INSTANT CLASSIC.

okay now here’s my favorites ranked with thoughts from while i listening to them for the first time:

1. good graces - MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR. THIS IS GONNA BE ON REPEAT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. “with your favorite athlete” IS SO FUNNY LMAOOOOOOOO.

2. bed chem - OH MY GOD. THIS SONG IS UNREAL. i’m gonna need 3-7 business days to process just THIS SONG.

3. juno - real. me when i see joe fucking burrow. okay but seriously this is the cutest and smuttiest little song i love it 🤭

4. sharpest tool - HEL-FUCKING-LO??? too good. TOO GOOD. TOO FUCKING GOOD. IM NOT OKAY. IM NOT OKAY. “if that was casual then im at idiot” REAL. TOO FUCKING REAL.

5. dumb and poetic - SOBBING. SOBBING. TEARS. SHE JUST KEPT GOING. “JUST CAUSE YOU ACT LIKE ONE DOESNT MAKE YOU A MAN??” GAGGED.

6. lie to girls - SABRINIA IM CRYING GIRL. IM NOT OKAY.

7. coincidence - DRAG HIM. DRAG HIM. “YOUR CAR DROVE ITSELF FROM LA TO HER THIGHS.” HOLY SHIT?? OMG??? GAGGED.

8. don’t smile - REAL. ALL A MAN FUCKING DO IS LIE. even though this song is literally so sad, i literally wanna shake my ASS to this song.

9. please please please - song of the summer for a reason. also i hope that the rumors they broke up aren’t true ☹️

10. taste - GAGGED. CERTIFIED BOP. THE MUSIC VIDEO???

11. espresso - MHM. MHM. a classic. it should be ILLEGAL for how catchy this song is.

12. slim pickings - “SINCE THE LORD FORGOT MY GAY AWAKENING” LMAOOOOO. one thought: 🤠

brb. listening to this masterpiece again.

we are the same person bc YAS.

- with your favorite athlete KILLED ME

- juno: this is the joe song.

- JACK ANTONOFF COOKED WITH SHARPEST TOOL. LIKE YES JACK GO OFF WITH THAT PRODUCTION.

- don’t smile fr makes me want to shake ass idc

[elvenbeard]

I'M SO RIDICULOUSLY HAPPY RN IT'S UNREAL

ehehehehehe, summer vibes intensify :3 I'm not done with this just yet, I wanna put them both in the more colourful patterned versions of these shirts (once I've decided on who gets which XD) but yes.... I'm so happy!!! Some silly intermediate progress pics and rambles below the cut!

Dad Shirts by @pinkyjulien 💛 Sweater for Nibbles

SO. My whole thought process behind this really was "cute summer pics with Vince and Kerry :3" but none of Kerry's default outfits scream "summer vibes" to me. Also maybe I just wanted to put him in the ridiculously short hotpants, because I love the look on Vince xD

Sooo... this is my first time making an NPC appearance though, so tutorial time! Super nice to follow and beginner friendly, even though WolvenKit is still overwhelming af. But at least at this point things are starting to make more sense to me than they did two days ago xD

Now, after fiddling and testing and trying and following the tutorial just fine (messing up a few times because apparently I can't read as well as I thought), I ended the night with this:

Right shirt, wrong colour, couldn't figure out how to change it XD But a good start! Also put him in his 2023 shoes and pants, because the hotpants and sandals, even though both vanilla, weren't cooperating in the way I thought. Basically..... invisible legs and feet Kerry, which was funny, but not the look I was going for xD I think... maybe it had something to do with the appearance I used as a base? But your guess is as good as mine, I decided to call it a night and start over from scratch with a different, less complex appearance as base XD I still love the vibes of this look though, I might play around with it a bit more :3

Several fruitless attempts later, I finally ended up with this! xD For some reason I lost his face cyberware somewhere along the way though, but fuck yeah, he has legs and feet again! And stole V's shirt, again!!! (god I'm so so so happy now that I know how this works, I'm gonna make him so many outfits with that shirt. the storytelling opportunities!!!)

While I was fiddling with V's T-shirt I figured out how easy it is to change mesh appearances by pure accident xD So, put the dadshirt mesh back in, change mesh-appearance to the colour I want and BAM! Success!! I was jumping around in my chair like an idiot but yes... I'm so happy rn XD Tired, but happy, and a tiny bit smarter about all this than before.

What I love about this outfit, besides the aesthetics (TM): He's wearing his dangly jewelry, which a lot of custom outfits I've come across don't seem to have, but I love the chonky gold chains a lot (so does Vince, they're good for grabbing >:3). And he's wearing one modded clothing item (dad shirt), one player item (hotpants, definitely borrowed from Vince), and his own flip flops from the bathrobe outfit xD

Finally, accurate picture of me trying to do learn this with the trial and error method:

But hey... it worked :D Probably not... in the cleanest way, I'm sure the way I snuck in that dad shirt is more the Bethesda "it just works" approach, but eh... since this is for my own personal fun times and not for anyone else to ever look at, I'll take it XDD

[theloopus]

Hi! I'm pretty new to the MASH fandom and I've only gotten through season 3 of the show so far (have to take a break after that finale) but I know the basics on like "beejhawk" and the 'die in your arms' and the 'bj goes to Maine' but what's with the timeloops i keep hearing about? As far as I know it's just a fanfic thing, but how did the concept of them get so popular in this fandom? I never though MASH of all fandoms would be the one with timeloop fics when the show is going for realism. I'm just so confused, so thank you if you're able to answer this!

hi!! god where to even begin with this... there's lowkey layers to it. i guess the basic thing it stems from is that, for all that MASH might be grounded in realism, the timeline of the show itself is a fucking mess. i guess you haven't really gotten to that so early in the show! but it starts to get real messy later. except it kind of... works, for this show in particular. it's not fanfiction exactly, i'd say it's more of a... theory, or more accurately a reading of canon.

for reference, the Korean War lasted three years, from 1950 to 1953. and yet there are late season episodes where they're somehow still in 1950, despite the fact that the first three seasons seem to take place over the course of at least a year (given that we see them in both winter and summer—and that's being generous and assuming all the different winter episodes scattered throughout those three seasons are all the same winter); and if BJ is already in Korea in 1950 how is Erin's 2nd birthday in 1953?; Potter arrives in 1952 but is also somehow present at the 1951's New Year's party; Trapper experiences events that won't happen until 1953; Potter's grandchild goes from being a newborn to being eight years old in the course of a couple seasons; and that's just some that i can recall off the top of my head

i mean, you can see how it might begin to get difficult for a show with 11 seasons to keep pretending the whole thing takes place in less than 3 years. not that they seem to have tried much. that's syndicated television for you baby!

but beyond the actual like... timeline and lore or whatever. the timeloop thing is also super relevant on a thematic level? metaphorical, even

the characters are all trapped, doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over again with no end goal in mind. periods of boredom where nothing happens, then wounded arrive, surgery that lasts so long they can't even tell day from night, how much time has passed, much less what day of the week it is, then send the soldiers back to the front, period of boredom, wounded, surgery, back to the front, boredom, wounded, surgery, front, boredom, wounded, surgery, front... it's endless, and they can't escape it, and they can't do anything to stop it, either. they're permanently stuck in repetition. and the characters call this out in the show! constantly!

HAWKEYE: Sorry, Margaret. The future's been cancelled by the war department. They're just gonna replay the past.

We're never getting out of here is the single most repeated sentiment in the entire show.

at the same time the warping of time also has to do with trauma. the idea of trauma as a disruption of linear temporality is nothing new, and it can definitely be applied to MASH as a narrative device. the characters are not experiencing time linearly because of the trauma and the repetition and the inevitability and the senselessness and the isolation, everything combined so that they exist in this state of temporal limbo, this bubble where the outside world might as well not exist—and the nonsensical nonlinear timeline makes us, the audience, feel that, experience time the way the characters do. the sense that something's off, that time is weird, that their reality is unreal and senseless and almost supernatural. not how it is in real life. distinctly different and haunted. does that make sense?

there's also something to be said about the nature of the sitcom as a genre and how it lends itself to weird temporalities due to the episodic format, how everything resets to the status quo at the end of the episode and things keep happening over and over. it's just that MASH in particular is not only a very particular case because of how it's based on a historical event (and therefore has set dates and periods and timelines) but also in how the characters are aware of and haunted by this repetition and sense of endlessness, and constantly call it out

time isn't real because they exist outside of it, in their little bubble where they're forced to do the same thing day after day. is that not a timeloop?

[freyito]

Head so full about your band AU rn, I have to share the connections my brain has been making

First of all, Kung Lao getting his bass all bloody? This reminds me so much of Sodo from the band Ghost who did this (multiple times, might I add) and his white guitar was all bloody.. yummy

Then Sento as the drumsticks? Dude that's so smart and the crack potential is unreal (the fans will learn to ignore all the weird stuff happening during concert with time I'm sure lol)

Also, I know I will never hear Raiden's death growl or angelic voice, but in my head it's so clear how amazing he sounds, I can bet how many fans the guys have just purely after hearing him and not even knowing anything about the band itself

AND THEN THEY KISS YEAH (sorry I had to)

The Lin Kuei boys and the whole "guess's who's popular now" is making me remember being an old Hollywood Undead fan and seeing Deuce loose all his reputation lmaoo

Then Havik's growl.. this is making me feel things I didn't know I could

And God I love LOVE Crane Wives, and you are so right about the vibes and how they fit perfectly together, you're so big brain my friend

And please the girls.. Wish I was a girl kisser rn, they all sound so dreamy

Also I can't just ignore this: Shang Tsung and Lady Gaga? Honey, I'd be in the front row at every concert praying he looked at me while serving absolute cunt are you kidding me

AND A FUJIN MENTION OMG!! It's like when you heard a song in the supermarket circa 2016 when you were out shopping with your mother on a hot summer day and heard it exactly once (1) since then. You can remember the words, the rythm, but no matter how hard you try, you just can't find it.

I'm so sorry for all this, I just love all of it so much and have so many thoughts.. Please tell me you're planning to make more

- <3 anon

kung lao was partially inspired by that (ive listened to ONE ghost song i apologize)... but also I PLAY TOO HARD... as for Sento im a big fan of the little(?) details but also i am actually sentos #1 fan move over kenshi. Raiden would have those real sweet and soft vocals outside of the death growl but all i can really imagine in my head is him throwing his head back and leaning down and putting his entire heart into it. ON THAT THOUGH... there's a very specific reason as to why i put kenshi on drums and kung lao on bass... these two are the heart of the band but in comparison to johnny and raiden they always fall short of the love?? so like. just saying. ahem.

also used to be a fan of hollywood undead but i have no idea what happened to them i was like 12 and they were just bangers for me at the time.

EVERYTHING ELSE THO IM SO GLAD U ENJOY IT... i remember when i first started participating in fandoms i always wanted to make an au... but also like i was like 10 and bad at writing but also. fandoms around that time were less than savory. KNOWING PEOPLE LIKE THIS ONE IS LIKE. little undertale obsessed frey is so happy LMFAOOOO. i could probably write so much. soooooo much about it. i might. but i have like 50 asks to catch up on not to mention my drafts sighs

BUT SERIOUSLY IM SO GLAD PEOPLE LIKE IT AUGHGGSGHHDGHHHH IDC HOW MANY TIMES I SAY IT I MEAN IT EACH AND EVERYTIME

[genericswordsmaiden]

I'm bored, so I'm going to make a list of my favourite fictional characters.

One Piece:

Sanji (I believe in pre-timeskip Sanji supremacy)

Portgas D Ace (I'm still so salty at the fact that he died istg he didn't deserve it)

Sir Crocodile (best. villain. hands down. he's so goddamn cool)

Mob Psycho 100:

Reigen Arataka (he's literally the perfect man, and I know many people on this website agree with me)

Mob (small esper boy deserves all the hugs)

Teru Hanazawa (I love his character development! Also there's something about his design that makes him very likable, probably the hair)

Bungō Stray Dogs:

Atsushi Nakajima (At-sushi Roll is one of my favourite protagonists, even though I feel like he gets overshadowed by Dazai most of the time)

Edogawa Rampo and Akiko Yosano (you have no idea how much I ship these two. I love them sm)

Chūya Nakahara (I like the fact that he has a petite figure but still manages to be the coolest mfer in yokohama)

Lovecraft and Steinbeck (aka ocean man and grape boy. honestly would've liked to see more of their antics)

Francis S. Fitzgerald (he's a decent villain. he was an ass but it was for the sake of his family ;-;)

Fairy Tail:

Lucy Heartphilia (many people hate her but I don't care, honestly. FT was my first anime that wasn't one of the "big three" - and I liked her so much, she felt like a sisterly figure. Also, she dreams of becoming a writer just like me so...yep. She's a comfort character to me)

Gajeel (I only wish good things for him, bro turned his life around after a youth spent being cruel and murderous!)

Levy (I only wish good things for her, sis helped a cruel murderer on his way to redemption!)

The Elder Scrolls series:

Vivec (cool design, deep lore master, a rather peculiar backstory)

Martin Septim (one of my comfort characters, he has a piece of my heart)

Sheogorath (I'm beginning to feel like a mad god, mad god! He's bonkers, the incarnation of absurdity - and I love him for that reason)

Paarthurnax (old, wise, committed atrocities in the past but he's trying to repent... what's not to like?)

Fire Emblem:

Lyn (badass and elegant at the same time! She's my favourite character to use during tournaments in FEH)

Claude (i simp for this man so much it's unreal)

The Emerged World:

Nihal (an incredible warrior, worthy of legends and all the highest honors)

Sennar (a fool in love, redhead mage, powerful and loyal. the perfect man)

Laio (i'm still not over him. my small boy, he deserved so much more)

Aster (the twist when Nihal finally confronts him is still one of my favourites in all of fiction. an incredibly well written villain)

Learco (I was rooting for him since he was first introduced, I knew he was a good man at his core. Besides, he and Dubhe are an incredibly cute couple)

Adhara (I actually haven't read all of the third trilogy but I have a feeling she'll do great things. I just wonder...who was she, before losing her memories?)

The Lord of the Rings

Pippin (he's so tiny! billy boyd's interpretation of him in the movies is so good.)

Boromir (he's so much more than what people usually make him out to be. I guess I have a thing for people who do bad stuff but then try to redeem even though the price to pay for it is their life)

Elrond (a king, a strong warrior, who's also as gentle as summer)

hpl's works:

Randolph Carter (I find it kinda inspirational that he always manages to get through whatever his bizarre life throws at him: it's like he's oblivious to the fact he's supposed to be in a series of horror stories - except maybe for "The Statement" - Warren's death really shook him... But then in Dream Quest it seems like he's having the time of his life. Also, I love the way the fandom treats him, he's like a treasure)

[blysse-and-blunder]

I posted 6,790 times in 2022

That's 346 more posts than 2021!

58 posts created (1%)

6,732 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leitharstjarna

@masteroffoolhardyplans

@knifepadme

@fade-steppin

@dying-suffering-french-stalkers

I tagged 2,104 of my posts in 2022

#the untamed - 287 posts

#art - 204 posts

#cql - 179 posts

#the untamed fanart - 165 posts

#mdzs - 87 posts

#goncharov - 86 posts

#the goncharoverse - 74 posts

#unreality cw - 63 posts

#postry - 53 posts

#ilcb - 47 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#‘you’re right i did need to see that’ ‘if you share the link i can watch from here!’ ‘i missed this but that’s so cool thank you’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

in lieu of a moon cake

aug 29 - sept 11, 2022

where have the ilcb posts been the last four weeks, i hear you cry? well genuinely, the end of summer took me and i wandered out of time and thought. did watch the moon rise rich and golden last night, though, so--on balance--we're doing just fine.

reading finished my ancillary justice re-read this morning and i got so much more out of it the second time, newly attuned to the little differences between this and all the other space opera i've been enjoying. also finished obernewtyn (isobel carmodie), one of the growing list of YA sci/fantasy i'm catching up on using libby. spent a lot of last week reading or what you will, jo walton, which i think i will have more to say about when i finish it, and listening to ann leckie's the raven tower as an audiobook on various commutes-- perhaps not the best medium for it, but the reader's absolutely eating the accent work which does liven things up. i also acquired a romance novel from @dimir-charmer which is Certainly Something, not quite up to the level of some of the classics @pandolfo-malatesta would review but which has made me say out loud 'stop using that word, i do not think it means what you think it means!' every time this poor author tries to call someone 'contemporaries.'

listening so i know we all remember (for better or worse) passenger's 'let her go' from 2013 or whenever, but i have very specific tender feelings and memories attached to that whole album. a recent re-listen, followed by a tour through his recent, extensive new discography (like five albums since i last checked, holy shit), has shown me that i'm not even remotely capable of being objective, but i do think? that none of the new stuff has grabbed me? like it all sounds consistent, it all sounds, uh, the same, and the nuances and things i can pick out in the tracks from all the little lights (2012) or hell even whisper (2014) are just...not discernible (is this just a question of production)(possibly). to quote one of the new songs, uh, it leaves me cold? whereas 'feather on clyde' is still revealing and teaching me new things to get teary-eyed about (this time it was the line 'well god knows that i've failed, but he knows that i've tried'), and just...plus the string duet at the opening of 'things that stop you dreaming,' the way it builds up so, so sweetly, the lyrics taking you by surprise by leaving no breaks or breaths until the chorus, playing with pace and rhythm--still not tired of it.

watching i spent most of last week cycling between 'sandman', 'doulou continent', and 'oath of love', with a brief detour to the mdzs donghua with @hematiterings as per us-- sandman is good, though i haven't finished it. i got to the death episode and did briefly cry actual human tears about the old violinist and the young honeymooners, only to have the rest of the episode with its chronological humor (reminding me of ep 3 of 'good omens', what with the 'let's put our cast in several different centuries and enjoy what that does to their hair', thank you neilman) give me slight emotional whiplash. the problem with my cdrama habit is that, especially with duolou continent, i've had a hard time believing i've seen as many episodes as i actually have (also viki is...incapable of keeping my place) so i tend to back up to whichever episode number sort of feels right? which means i've seen episodes 11-15 like three times each. at least now i'm getting people's names.

playing finished up summer and fall of year two in stardew, won the grange fair and the ice fishing contest now that it's winter, and just bought a duck! (her name is fern)

making i think the garden is fading, we're still harvesting tomatoes but a lot of the leaves have turned yellow and crinkly, meanwhile the squash (?) vines have all withered except for one, perplexingly round little green squash (?) with a few nibbles out of it courtesy of the neighborhood fauna. when do i pluck it? is it still...getting anything out of being on its vine?

working on *cue panicked laughter* chapter 1! also that presentation / conference paper based on chapter-1-or-possibly-the-old-book-practicum! also that presentation based on chapter-2-or-possibly-chapters-1-and-2-OR-possibly-the-diss-proposal! with all the complaining i've done to various friends and colleagues, its no wonder there's not been any. further writing. distracting myself by insisting on doing things for the incoming students, which has been very fun and diverting since they are cute and much easier to help.

20 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

#4

in lieu of a break

10pm, sept 25, 2022

the title is a lie, today and yesterday have both been breaks in their own ways! but the days do start coming and they really don't stop coming, do they. kay @girlfriendsofthegalaxy did a really nice couple of posts not long ago explaining the Theory of her tuesdayposts, to which i have only to add that-- i think for me these are turning into a steam valve, where i let out whatever is happening in my head that has built up over the past little while; they are analytical or creative endeavors in their own way, sometimes, but i mainly write them for myself and my own recall (so that i can go back and check out what i wrote about first watching the untamed, for example, please see iclb 2 or 3 from way back), and to keep track of my days. which is going to mean they aren't Reviews or really Criticism, though i may dabble in both, and any enjoyment or enlightenment anyone else gets out of reading these is incidental. for this one, it's a real head empty no thoughts list of titles, so hold on to your butts let's go.

reading the big mention here is that i just finished susanna clarke's piranesi, which i didn't know how to feel about until like 30% of the way in, and then began to enjoy quite a bit as the whole conceit became clearer, and then found...melancholy but beautiful by the end. honorable mentions over the past mumblemumble weeks to (checks storygraph): squire by tamora pierce (reread), ancillary justice by ann leckie (also a reread); the raven tower (not a reread, also by ann leckie--though i still haven't finished it); and the duchess romance which i did finish mostly out of morbid curiosity.

watching strangely this will be the largest section for once! the escapism has been strong lately-- and there have been many excellent movie and tv show friendship opportunities. in reverse order, i have now seen two episodes of the new netflix bee and puppycat and find it delightful if inscrutable; i have now seen two episodes of the second season of fate: a winx saga also on netflix which i found less delightful, even more inscrutable (since i hadn't seen the first season or the previous show, lmao) but extremely funny to watch alongside more deeply invested jammies; i have now seen the first three episodes of andor and found diego luna as charming as ever; i have now seen the prestige (2006) and it did lodge in my brain in the way only very rare movies do; i have now seen the newest three (?) episodes of star trek: lower decks and did think the most recent one with the recruiting booth and the rutherford memories plotline to be incredible star trek and some of the best lower deck stuff yet; i did make my housemates watch a double-feature of the princess diaries (2001) and the princess diaries 2: royal engagement (2004), which were extremely fun and also wild opportunities for early- oughts media criticism and an in-depth examination of the portrayal of hereditary monarchy (and on the heels of qe 2's death, no less);

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20 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

#3

In lieu of a commonplace book: summer nights

begun 9pm, monday, july 25, 2022 continued 11pm, monday, august 1

this post is like a week overdue, and has been tricky to write because i've had such high hopes for it. because this post? full of things that sparked joy. so i want to do them justice! finally finished a bunch of books, finally started listening to some new music which has been so good for my mood; it's felt like (last week and this weekend in particular) there's been novelty and enrichment in my enclosure. wrote my way into something i think i can now be happy with, at least; it's long, but it's true, and i can be grateful for the small victories.

reading i want to commemorate the fact that, somehow, i ended up finishing hilary mantel's the mirror and the light on the exact day, july 28, that it ends-- *spoilers* the anniversary of cromwell's death *spoilers*-- which given that i probably started reading it like 18 months ago at this point, feels absolutely fated. also if you're laughing at the fact that i felt the need to spoiler that, just know that i didn't know he died at the end. also, didn't know his involvement in the anne of cleves marriage! also didn't quite know political the kathryn howard marriage was-- but of course it must have been, had to have been. the last, oh, maybe 100 pages of this book, where it all starts to unravel, were the most engaging of the whole thing. i think the goal for the book, the intended tone, was this slowly mounting sense of melancholy, or of fatigue, of things falling apart, but it didn't translate to suspense or tension or uhhh pathos for me, except for maybe a few brief chunks in the last five pages that were then overwritten by how...tacky the last few lines were? i wish i could say that my feelings upon finishing this book were more than just, well thank goodness that's over. i think this one was a victim of its predecessors' success, in the sense that-- it took what i liked or what worked from the first two, and overdid it.

in contrast, and what an interesting world it is that i ended up getting to read these two in conversation, my loan for victoria goddard's the hands of the emperor came in on july 18 and, despite being actually longer than mirror and the light i have already finished it, and in fact started it over again from the beginning immediately. it...stunned me a little to think about the broad similarities between these two, but think about it: two main characters who are, essentially, self-made men who worked in and through governmental policies to change the world on behalf of a monarch ruling with the force of state and church and tradition, whose succession is a Big Issue and whose temperament, for better or worse, makes all the difference. i wouldn't say that's necessarily what hote is actually *about*, but putting it out like that was a fun thought-experiment.

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22 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#2

in lieu of a commonplace book has fans??

8 pm, july 11, 2022

wow y'all . in the last week i've been tagged in three (three? 3!!) other weekly roundup post from... loyal readers, what the fuck. friends!! first, i love that this series has been entertaining for literally anyone apart from its intended audience (i.e. future me). indescribable feeling. second, feeling flattered but dismayed by the folks who say they have never liked or commented on an ilcb post, but have apparently been reading them this whole time. wild. i had...no idea. you are all hereby empowered to engage, if you'd like (which i'd like!), and i'll do the same on yours! i love this for you guys. please revel in all the things you like and the delights that are you.

now, this post is delayed (again), because as much as i like to have them published on weekends, weekends are also where i tend to get the material i talk about. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ read on for some discussion of stranger things s4 episodes 1-5, and an extremely goofy medieval-renaissance video game. mild spoilers for the lloyd alexander novel the black cauldron.

reading i finished lloyd alexander's the black cauldron after having lingered on the last 3 pages for like....multiple weeks. (i thought there was more to go, but it turned out the last few pages were a preview of the last book.) i know a lot of people in welsh / celtic studies have nostalgia for these books but at the same time may or may not actually like them, because of the way they play with characters or lore from the Four Branches. personally i'm kind of into it? i didn't read them as a kid, so i don't have nostalgia per se-- i'm into the fact that i can recognize things, tone or theme as much as substance, and that i can imagine reading this aloud and enjoying the pronunciations and inspiring whatever children might be listening. also, the change from the first book to this one, and the changes made between this book and the movie, made me really enjoy this book. i liked adaon, and i was okay with the presence of ellidyr (he's very consistent with the spirit of efnysien, if not the reality, which could also be said about most of the book). i was...almost ecstatic about the way it wasn't gurgi, in the end, it just made so much more sense this way. this falls into the same category of reading YA fantasy i missed as a kid, initiated by the dianna wynne jones books and alison croggon's books of pellinor last year, and contrasts interestingly with the tamora pierce reread i've been doing.

listening a weird mashup of the a short hike soundtrack and the reddit manwhore playlist , because work and focus has continued to be. weird and challenging. the video game 'energizing but also focus' music is usually helpful but i nearly dozed off at my desk yesterday. still, i like that i've discovered a new game ost (owlboy) which is a lot of fun. do i know anything about the game? no! i'll have to investigate it.

watching episodes 1-5 of stranger things season 4. i'm not...having as much fun with this season as i remember having with season 3? it's something about how spread out and disconnected the cast are (they split the party ☹️) and partly also, that... as the kids have grown up, the differences in acting skill level have become more obvious. i just...have so much more fun watching joe keery and sadie sink and millie bobbie brown do their things, than i do the rest of them? the fact that david harbour basically doesn't get to speak for these whole first five episodes (plus the fact that his whole story line is just not that interesting?) feels like such a waste. a lot of what they give joyce and robin to say also feel like a waste? murray is fun but like...he's light comic relief now. what happened. the first episode of this season felt like it had a coherent vision with the dnd / hellfire stuff, but it's diffused a lot at this point. though i do giggle like a maniac when they so earnestly name-drop vecna-- having listened to crit role campaign one, i go 'oh hey i know him!' every time. i guess the thing for me is, i've always come to this show for the way it imitates and references horror/80s thrillers/etc, for the loving callbacks, more than these things themselves. i don't want or need it to be like. actually these things. and the more it tries to be, the less fun i have?

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25 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My dash did a thing I thought amusing

175 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[drabbles-mc]

Okay, so I saw this super interesting ask game and the way I have SO many things I want to submit, but I will BE KIND and go with: BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from [Aftermath Part 1 & 2]

Glad to know we are both still going insane over that story 😂🤝 One of my many writing goals for the summer is to go back and write the next installment. So. We shall see.

In the meantime!

Fave snippet from Aftermath Part 1:

You remembered the borderline baiting tone in his voice as he asked, “What do you want me to do about that?”

And you remembered your borderline pathetic response of, “Make me stop thinking about him.”

And he did.

Coming back to the present, you shook your head. “I shouldn’t have done it. It’s not gonna happen again.”

He stepped in closer, making you back up against the side of your car. “But it worked, right?”

You huffed, annoyed because he was putting you in this position, annoyed because he was absolutely correct. “Yes, it worked, but—”

He cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You knew you should’ve fought against it but you couldn’t. You melted against him instantly, heat rolling over you in waves as his hand came to rest around your throat, applying just enough pressure to have a reason for being there. You should’ve been upset about it but you weren’t.

The commentary: It was almost 1AM by this point when I was writing it and coming almost to the end. Throughout the entire fic I had gone back and forth multiple times about whether or not I wanted them to get found out by Angel. The whole conflict of it for me was whether or not I wanted it to be a multi-part story or a one shot. (which, knowing me, was a fucking joke of a question because I turn everything into more than it needs to be lmao) At first I thought that Angel was going to catch her coming out of the trailer, but I didn't do that. AND THENNN for a fleeting moment I was contemplating having Angel follow them because he just had more shit to talk and ended up catching him in THIS VERY MOMENT RIGHT HERE! But I then realized that I wasn't ready to be done writing bastard!EZ so instead I let reader enjoy her nice little makeout session and EZ have his smug little banter moment before solidifying the fact that the situation was far from finished and that the mess was undoubtedly going to get worse lmao

Fave snippet from Aftermath Part 2:

You hadn’t been paying much mind to the noise of the scrapyard until you heard the sound of voices. It was a mild distraction, a tiny crack in the false reality you found yourself in every time you were inside EZ’s trailer, every time EZ was inside you. It would’ve been something you were able to push from your mind in a matter of seconds if you hadn’t heard Angel’s voice amongst them. You froze, your body instantly locking up as your eyes widened.

This, and the little dialogue exchange that happened after it, was my payoff for having to write smut I swear to god 😂 Because as I was writing it I could just vividly picture the entire scene so clearly in my head. Like the split in my brain had half of it dedication to EZ's mindset and half of it dedicated to Reader's. Because you KNOOOOOOW that EZ saw this coming and that was half the fucking reason he had initiated any of it at all. And I love that for him. And to stack that up against Reader's absolute panic and regret??? Unreal. I was thriving. The fact that they're both so willingly making this mess so much worse, and EZ doesn't really give a shit about the potential fallout of it even though that's his brother, and the fact that Reader is riddled with anxiety of it even though that's her ex. Idk I just love it so much lmao

Thank you for these! 💕

(you can find the ask game Here)

[jkastudio]

I G IT HIRED LMFAOOOO

this is a play in the part theatre and im gonna be making sets!!! WOOT WOOT!b

It’s so crazy cause it’s like guys really planned this

I miss the calling for the NJ pack even though the leader of self reached out to me I wasn’t able to give her my résumé on time and I kind of miss that calling

And now this is where it landed me like literally in the park that I go to every single day during the summer just chilling here do you know I’m actually here right now and I get to work here and do it I love paint like that’s

And I met the guy he was super nice like super fun he’s chill he seems hip and young so I’m very excited to work with him and he’s a great artist. I can already tell he seems like he would be a cool boss so I’m excited to work with him and he showed me the stuff and like actual like theater production and sucking real life wooden figures that we get to paint and I’m gonna be learning a lot of new strategies and techniques and things like that I’m just gonna be having fun working on it and really really excited

So thank you Lord for this opportunity and I’m really glad that I got here and it’s near me and seemed fine for real so I’m very very happy about that

And the thing is I’ve been going big to. I want to learn carpentry and do structural things and that’s what I’m going to be learning about in this job. I’m so freaking excited. I can’t wait.

Somethings so unreal how God just put things in my life like literally the right people the right connections and I just I’m just there it’s always so unreal to me because life could be this good you know I mean like how the fuck am I painting for a living how the fuck did I do that Miral with the artist that I was admiring even before I met him with the people that I just saw amazing the night is this is another opportunity who is even like closer to home and it’s just so unreal sometimes so thank you Lord.

And I think this is a great summer job before I go to grad school