#rain & sky

[poetry-protest-pornography]

I saw a gifset and remembered how vicious Rain was after Stop beat up Payu, and if we don't get Rain going absolutely feral on Sky's ex I will sue.

[loudlylovingreview]

Video: Between Earth & Sky

Renowned ecologist Nalini Nadkarni studies “what grows back” after a disturbance in the rainforest canopy. In 2015, her rope snapped on a research climb, and she fell fifty feet from a tree and nearly died. After making a miraculous recovery, Nalini begins to explore a new research subject – herself. BETWEEN EARTH & SKY follows Nalini as she prepares for another research climb in Monteverde,…

[f1nalgirlz]

Spooktober day 5: Stormy night | Dan Cooper

my list

˗ˏˋwarnings´ˎ˗ nsfw, smut, almost soft dom reader, kitchen smut

˗ˏˋcontent´ˎ˗ established relationship, kitchen bj, oral sex/blowjob (m receiving)

((not proofread yet as always I’ll fix mistakes later🫶🎃))

You were home alone tonight, your boyfriend, Dan, having left for work in the morning. It was late now and the rain had lasted all day, only amping up when the sun set. When the sky was completely dark, the thunder and lightning began, knocking the power out. You’d been laying in bed reading a book while waiting for Dan to get home when all the lights went off, leaving you in the pitch black. You fumbled around your nightstand, patting around it in hopes of finding your flashlight keychain. When your fingers touched the cold metal of your keys you smiled a little, grabbing them and feeling around the keys until your flashlight was in your hands. As you clicked it on, you got up, heading to get some candles to light your house.

As you dropped to your knees in the kitchen, digging through a cabinet for candles, you heard the front door open and shut. You sat a few tall candles on the counter as you stood up, hearing foot steps behind you. Turning to shine your light at the entrance to the kitchen, you accidentally flashed your boyfriend in the eyes, causing his hand to shoot up to cover them. “Hey!” he called out, making you drop your keychain. “Sorry!” You called back grabbing them up again. “I was looking for candles.” You said, grabbing two off the counter. When you looked at him you could tell he was soaked, brown hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks.

“I’ll go get you a towel.” You said, setting the other two candles down on the table. He nodded, taking your place in the kitchen, pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting the candles. As he waited for you to get back he began to rid himself of his remaining wet clothes, peeling off his shirt and dropping it into the sink. As you walked back into the kitchen, you were met with the sight of Dan dropping his pants, that were heavy with rain, into the sink. His nearly nude figure was illuminated by the light from the candles. You clicked off your light, dropping your keys on the table when you walked to him. He smiled when he noticed you, then came a soft “thank you.” You smiled and wrapped him in the towel, feeling his damp arms wrap around you. He leaned down, kissing you gently, as you kissed him back you could feel cold strands of wet hair on your cheeks.

When he pulled away you caressed his face. “Long day?” You asked receiving a nod. “Yes. It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the storm.” He said, a sigh slipping his lips. You had always enjoyed the rain and storms, but Danny… not so much. He really hated them, he hated not having power, he hated the feeling of wet clothes on his skin, but most of all he hated the nervousness he got from the cracking of thunder. You gave him a slight smile and leaned on the counter, crossing your arms and looking his body over. The towel draped over him hardly covered his lithe body. A sudden flash of lightening illuminated the room, causing Danny’s brows to furrow. “How about I improve your day some, hm?” You said, reaching a hand out which he took.

As you slowly pulled him into you by his hand a smile grew on his lips. You gently moved him so his back was against the counter and with a smile you pecked his cheek. The sound of the rain aggressively coming down on the roof and windows filled the room. You then calmly sank to the floor, dragging your hands down his sides, then hips, and stopping on his thighs. He shivered at your touch, making you smile a little as you looked up at him. “May I?” You asked when your fingers looped around the waistband of his boxer briefs. He nodded at you but you tilted your head. “Use your words if you want it, Danny.” You said gently. “Yes, please.” He said and that was plenty good enough for you so, you pulled his briefs down. Your hand wrapped around his semi-hard length, giving it a gentle pump. It seemed like your touch alone was enough to make him hard because it didn’t take very long for him to be fully erect in your palm.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes when you took the first lick, just barely touching your tongue to his tip. You could hear a quiet whine coming from your boyfriend as you slowly took his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head. As his soft hands ran through your hair, you hummed around him. You always let him touch as long as he didn’t push your head, and he never did. As you bobbed your head, you gently held onto his hips, listening to his moans and whimpers. The sounds of his moans made your body hot, wetness growing in your panties. You heard Dan’s breathing get more and more unsteady, and could feel him writhing in your touch. You knew this meant he was close so you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’ instead using your hand to pump his length.

You stared up at him, mouth open with his tip on your tongue as you jerked him off. As Danny looked down at you his chest heaved, eyes rolling back as he came into your mouth. A crack of thunder sounded in the room as a flash of lightning lit up Dan’s face that was wrinkled up in pleasure. As he came the salty liquid went down your throat and on the corners of your mouth. You continued milking his cock as he came causing his body to shudder and whimpers to leave his mouth. As you swallowed all that was in your mouth, you stood up, giving him a slow kiss. He instantly reciprocated, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “Well… is it improved?” You asked, receiving an eager nod. He instantly reciprocated, kissing you back and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed a little as he began dragging you to the bedroom, grabbing a candle off the table to light the way.

R: I know this is pretty basic but,, it is what it is 😝 my missed Kinktober day 4 will be up when I get the final result of the poll and Kinktober day 1 will be up SOMETIME before the 31st. (probably) Ik i suck hard for already missing days by 5 but I’m working on it😭 as an apology for missing 2 days I will let you know that day 1 is a Clyde fic🫶 okay byeee

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| In A Week ||

frank castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: sad, angsty, reader is um... dead, Frank is not dealing well, implied sort-of suicide attempt/lack of care.

I recommend reading the short fic Seeya first if you want to amp up the sadness! 😜

It's been a while since he's been here, usually it was almost everyday without fail but lately…

When he places his hand on the earth it feels warm, but only from the waning afternoon sun. The sky is that heavy, stormy yellow-grey colour now, and as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes he can feel the pressure change in the muggy air. 

You loved storms. Told him countless times there was magic in them but damn, he'd swear the magic was all you as you had dragged him out on the balcony and kissed him stupid in the pouring rain. 

And then, not long after, God had said no. There would be no more dancing in the storms, no dinners out, no weekend adventures, no more sleepy mornings wrapped up in each other. No more anything for you, for his girl. 

Whatever purpose this God had in mind for you, it was done, but he wasn't yet done with Frank.

take me you motherfucking coward, take me.

He wishes so hard that it was the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears instead of the fading of your final breath. He tries picturing the brightness of your eyes and the warmth of your smile, but all he can see is the jolting of your  vulnerable body as the bullets ripped through and took you from him.

I'm so sorry, baby. Should've done better by you. It should've been me.

He's not asking for forgiveness as he whispers those words into the soft wind. If you could reach across the void he'd eagerly listen for your punishment, he'd beg you to tell him exactly how to suffer, because he'd do it a million times over and it still wouldn't be enough. It can't ever be enough.

One minute you were there, smiling, laughing, screaming, loving him, and then you just… weren't. 

It's okay, I'll see you…

He didn't understand, despite the myriad of lives he's taken he couldn't get his head around how this had happened. How he'd let it. It wasn't supposed to happen to you, you were meant to be different, separate to all of that, untouchable.

He hunches over, his fingers digging hard into the wet soil like you'd just reach up through it and he could bring you back. Or that you'd pull him under with you.

But you don't. His throat closes up, his body shakes but his sobs are muted by the thunder, and tears are lost in the rain.

He presses his fingers first to his lips, then to the letters of your name carved in the headstone.

Seeya.

He leans up against it as comfortably as he can with the way he's bleeding out. 

It's over. It won't be that long until he's with you again.

Things are just starting to get murky and go dark when he feels his body being lifted up.

Stop fighting me Frank, I'm trying to help

no… 

A weak murmur at first, then louder as he regains consciousness.

"NO! Leave me here, let me be with her! Let me be with her!" Even in his weakened state he's roaring, furious desperation cracking his voice as he's pulled further away from you.

"You know I can't do that."

So then, this was his punishment, to be dragged back into a living hell by the devil. To suffer a life without you in it.

"I'm gonna… kill you," Frank rasps, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, Red."

The devil wasn't for listening, hoisting him over his shoulders and staggering up the hill. "Yeah okay, but later. Gotta get you to a hospital first."

"Just let me fuckin' go Red, let me die. I'm done."

~

The incessant steady beep of the heart monitor was mocking him. The holes in him now stitched and taped up, proof of life soaking through the stark white dressings.

"Hey." Red says from the corner of the room.

Frank winces. Goddamn fucking self-righteous prick was always interfering. Taking his choice from him. He wanted to wring his neck but the fight in him was quickly draining away as he remembered just why they were here.

"I- I can't, can't do this without her." Frank's voice was quiet and hoarse as it broke. He didn't give a fuck if Red could smell his fucking tears or whatever, he was just full on crying rivers now. It was one thing at least that had been getting easier.

Matt comes closer to the side of the bed.

"She'd want you to live for her, you know that Frank. You're strong, you can survive."

Frank scoffs and shakes his head before wiping tears away. "Sh-she was it for me, made me strong… an' I don't know… she was everything."

Matt's hand is gentle on his shoulder.

"And that's why you have to keep on going, for her. Ask me how I know."

Frank didn't need to, he knew what Red had gone through, brought to a low place he almost hadn't come back from. 

Matt sighs, remembering. "It's not easy. It takes time, but you're not alone, and you've got help if you need it."

Frank's in a daze, doesn't know if it's the blood loss or what but he just keeps on shaking his head. "I dunno Red, I dunno."

I'm lost. I'm so lost.

"It's alright, we'll figure it out."

Frank feels gutted out, vacant. Memories of you like they happened yesterday reel through his mind and sting the backs of his eyes like someone has jammed fucking razorblades in there.

Sure, whatever you say Red. 

"Yeah, yeah."

[sparring-spirals]

(im extremely caffeinated rn this might not make sense, lets go)

With recent events, absolutely amped for Bell's Hells to become a full manifestation of the concept "horrific force of nature".

Between Orym, and Fearne and now Laudna, plants that grow and sprout and die around them, all the pretty bits of nature as well as the horrifying aspects of it. Waking up with flowers grown over and into you. Branches outstretched like fingertips, roots that can ground and choke. Vines that move on their own and wrap around your neck like a noose. Poisons and toxins growing around you. Out of you. Exquisite. Fantastic.

With Imogen, a storm, raging, crackling, bearing down, rain that could either save you or flood you. The sky turning a deep, deep red, cloud cover and nature gone silent in the face of something awful. Lightning and wind that can tear everything to pieces, that drown out everything else, set things aflame and rip them apart. Sexy. Unparalleled.

With Chetney, a wolf, howling in the distance, bloodlust that crawls in your veins, rage that is bestial and also very, very natural. A wild look in someone's eyes, glint of sharp teeth in the dark, predator and prey and jackrabbitting hearts. Visceral. Passionate.

With Ashton- Time, space, gravity, literal forces of nature, slowling and warping and bending around you. Your limbs inexorably heavy, your feet no longer planted on the same patch of ground, everything going too fast or too slow. Laws of the universe, the things keeping it anchored- all bending around you to swallow you whole. Right before a big ole stone cracks your head open. Horrifying. Inexplicable. (cool as hell).

And even with F.C.G: Something manmade, a pure technological advancement, metal and magic fused. Except: everything about them, their purpose, their kindness- wrapped up in human emotions, feelings and passion. Vulnerabilities too. Insecurities, weaknesses, patterns of mistakes made by all living minds. There is nothing more natural. Nothing more inescapable. Mortifying. Awesome as fuck.

Bell's Hells! Forces of nature! By some broad definition. With all of the inherent horror and menace that term implies. Bell's Hells as a spooky, otherworldly troupe, except everything about them is the worst bits of this world come to life. hell yes.

[writinginthetwilight]

You Look Good in Green.

Chapter 2 - First.

Eddie Munson x Bartender! Fem! Reader.

>>Summery: Between a deli and a laundromat in downtown Indianapolis, a bar sits unassuming. Almost derelict looking from the outside, to the untrained eye. But by night she's a different beast.

>>Chapter warnings: 18+ only, strangers to friends to lovers, found family, fluff, angst, drinking, smoking of, strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, slow burn, depictions of a panic attack.

>>Author note: There's a bit more of Eddie and reader in this chapter but chapter 3 really amps up their interactions. Thank you for all the love on my last chapter and anyone who took the time to read, it means the world. 💚

Chapter 1

MASTERLIST

1977

Dense and unruly clouds dominate the sky as he makes his way down the sidewalk, the already rapidly fading light of late afternoon now muted to a dream like shade of blue. Shop windows send out a warm glow onto the path in front of him winds whipping past and urging him on. 

The sound of the bell rings through the store as he peeks inside warm air prickling his cheeks. 

The cold that rushes in behind him runs down Angie's back as she sits on the ground hunched over, surrounded by boxes of half labelled tapes.

Knees aching, and fingers cramped she tries to stand quickly, warm greeting on the tip of her tongue halted and replaced by a curious smile at the sight of the young boy in the doorway.

Eyes wide and pink-cheeked, he takes in the sight of the half-decorated record shop. Newly tacked posters line the walls, shelves sit half full and the smell of fresh paint still lingers. 

Pulling at the neck of his green woollen sweater as it itches against his skin, he startles at her voice.

“Hi.”  

Eyes meeting, he ducks slightly, only raising a hand in greeting before making his way into the cluttered aisles.  

She stretches up on her toes and watches the top of his shaved head move its way behind the shelves and out of sight. A Glance at the windows shows no parent lingering outside. People pass but nobody stops. 

Making her way around sharpie-marked boxes and shelving yet to be assembled, she finds him browsing, finger running down the edge of a record. 

“Can I hel-” 

“ I wasn't stealing!” The boy spins to face her, quickly turning out the pockets of his slightly short bell-bottom jeans.

Mortified she moves towards him “No, no, I didn't think you were honey” he steps away and she stops. Placing her hands up in surrender she sighs “Just, wanted to know if you needed help finding anything.” 

He eyes her wearily and she chuckles, dropping her hands to her hips and looking around “ Ain't really organised yet. ” 

She glances at the records he was browsing. 

“Blues?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head straightening to his full size and she struggles to suppress a smile at the sight.

“Metal” 

“Oh,” she drawls, “a man of taste.”

She brushes past him leading him to the front of the store, showing him the pile of boxes yet to be unpacked. He immediately dives down to search through the records.

The tall fogged windows at the front of the store start to streak with drizzle. 

“You here by yourself?” she says watching the rain run down the glass and people dart past in blurred succession. 

“Uncles round the corner at the auto shop.”

She hums and reaches over to the top shelf that's hastily labelled new releases grabbing a stack, her chipped polished nails flick through until she finds what she's looking for. 

“Here,” she says, tapping the record against his shoulder. 

He turns eyes going wide and eagerly takes it. His fingers trace the snarling face on the front leaving a path through the thin dust that covers it.

"Good?"

“Will blow your mind.”

Behind him, she sees a man rush past. He stops just short of the door and makes his way back to look through the window, face obscured by the now pouring rain. 

The bell rattles. 

“Eddie!”

The boy rolls his eyes as an older man rounds the corner on him, dripping wet his footsteps turning the carpet a darker shade as he advances through the store. 

“Boy I swear to god, I told you to stay put. ”

He pulls the cap from his head scrubbing his fingers through thinning sandy hair. 

“Sorry ma'am didn't mean to disturb you,” he says, spotting Angie the anger in his tone lowers kind blue eyes looking her way.

“No not all, nice to have folks inside. I think most think we're still closed” she says gesturing around. 

“Wayne” Eddie interrupts and the man swings his head down to look at the young boy. 

“Can we get this?" he says holding up the record. 

“ No.” The words are hushed and he takes the record from Eddie, gingerly passing it back to Angie with an apologetic look. “Now let's go.” 

“ Please, come on.” 

“ Ed-” 

“ On the house.” The pair look at her and she gives a small smile. 

“ That's very kind ma'am, but.”

“ We don't need charity.” Eddie interrupts, arms crossed against his chest and Wayne sends him a glare. 

Angie mimics him, crosses her arms over her chest and bends so she's at eye level with the boy. 

“Does this look like a Goodwill kid?” Her eyes search his.  “It's a gift.” She hands the record back to him, glancing at Wayne for approval. 

“Thanks," he says tentatively as he takes it looking at the creature on the cover staring back at him, a grin slowly slips onto his face.

“ Thank you, ma'am. You really didn't need to.” 

“Please god call me Angie” she says grimacing and waving her hand  “and I know.”

A silent exchange is made as they look at each other and Wayne takes a breathy laugh putting the cap back onto his head  “Thank you, Miss Angie.“

She nods and  Wayne puts a palm on Eddie's head, an exasperated sigh leaving him as he directs them towards the door, cold air rushes in the sound of rain pounding against the pavement.

“Hey, Eddie.” 

He looks up, tearing his eyes away from the record to see Angie, hand on hip pointing a slender finger at him. 

“Be nice to your uncle.”

……..

The door rattles on its hinges, bell chime cut short and shrill as Eddie bounds his way in and through to the back of the store. Long strides carry him until he spots her. 

“You,” he says pointing to where Angie sits at her desk, a magazine laid out before her, coffee still too hot to drink, nestled on the neatly organised table. He's grinning so hard it aches teeth and dimples on full show. 

“My angel.” 

Her face is stoic as she flips the magazine closed but he's too buzzed to notice, still running on the unfiltered joy that came from the phone call late last night. 

Standing, magazine in hand, she walks towards him and Eddie grins harder, opening his arms wide, leather jacket creaking, ready to engulf her in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ahh!” 

Eddie lurches back as the rolled-up magazine makes contact with the side of his head. 

“What the fuck?” She swipes at him again, “Ang?”  

“An hour late Eddie!”

His eyes go wide and he ducks behind the arch leading to the store, the beaded curtain rattling as he flounders through it.

“We got lost,” he says throat tight as he stumbles backwards.

“You got lost? You've been there before, don't lie to me.” She points the magazine at him, pages creasing in her grip. 

“I'm not,” he dodges her again. "We took a wrong turn in traffic and, and.” 

He swallows as his back makes contact with the shelving behind him, contents rattling. 

A force to be reckoned with when angered, all southern sensibilities dissolve from her, temper blowing them away like dandelion seeds in the wind.  She had put him back in his place more times than he cares to admit and she still scares the shit out of him.

Pushing the magazine into his chest she stares him down. 

“It's a good job you impressed her.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his lip and she gives him another hard swat against his chest.

“If you are late Thursday, nothing me or Jazz say is going to convince him to let you come back. Understood?” He nods quickly and she squints at him.

“So Metallica worked then.” Grin spilling onto his face, Angie rolls her eyes, walking away. 

“Of course it worked, what do you take me for?”

He hurries behind her and watches as she settles back into the desk, pressing out the wrinkles in her magazine and taking an audible deep breath through her nose. 

He tentatively moves towards her, arm wrapping around her rigid shoulders from behind in an awkward hug. Her eyes don't leave the pages before her. 

“Thank you,” he says, squeezing her softly, shaggy curls obscuring her view and he feels her ease.

“You're welcome kid.”

“I  was thinking,” he says after a beat, the floor creaks as he shifts from foot to foot and she sighs, turning with a bored expression which can't quite hide the affection in her eyes. “Dangerous. ” 

He presses a palm to his chest, face aghast but his theatrics are halted as she raises a single eyebrow. Dropping his hand, his tongue peeks out, suddenly sheepish “Can I use the copier?”

……

The mixtape is pushed into the office boombox before you've even taken off your jacket. 

Alone, lights dimmed and Miles Davis echoing against the walls you float through the room. Figments of memories and familiar faces surround you. Your mom's chicken casserole wafts through the air as she hums in the sunshine-yellow kitchen back home. Friends in your old childhood bedroom, carefree laughter, gasps and shrieks as you tell stories of the weekend. There's a homesick comfort in the melodies, cherry-picked and rose-tinted.

It makes guilt crawl up your throat, and as the song comes to an end you're thankful for Dios voice. Loud, operatic, unseemly for a girl your age to be listening to says your dad's voice from somewhere in the recesses of your mind. 

New family, a new home. A mantra that's been built between these walls, over late nights and tired eyes, spilt drinks and frustrated tears. 

It was just you on Tuesdays, Gus pops in from time to time to grab things but it's always fleeting and customers are few and far between. Funds are still low from the weekend, but we're not quite at the mid-week hump which will fetch in people under a mutual disdain for the work week.

Scrubbing the sticky stains beneath a pool table at the far end of the room, it takes you a moment to distinguish the sound of the phone ringing against the music blaring in the empty building. In the rush to get out you smack your head on the underside of the table, scrambling out while cradling the back of your head as your feet skid over the wooden floor. 

“Hello?” You strain to sound professional, but your voice is breathy as you squeeze your eyes closed still holding the back of your head.

“Jazz honey, Gus there?” Angie's voice says quickly.

You release your work facade shoulders sagging “Hey, no he hasn't been in, everything okay?”

“Yeah, darlin’. Actually, you're probably better. Eddie's made some fliers for Thursday you mind if he hands them out.”

Excitement bubbles up within you. 

“No not at all, that's great, yeah. Good idea.”  

You pause for a moment looking over to the stage, “Nothing too out there, you remember the mess with the college last time.”

She chuckles through the line “ They're tame don't worry, won't induce any reports of sacrifices anyways, all okay down there?”

You nod running your hand over your head.

“Yeah fine, just smacked my head off the fucking pool table again.”

The rest of the afternoon goes as routine, deep clean and stock take, lists and order forms ready stacked for Gus tomorrow. A little after half 4, you head to the back through the small glossy black door behind the bar. 

The light flickers as you enter, dark, dusty and bare, goose flesh runs down your arms, the smell of damp ever present. It shuts out the world on the other side of the door once it clicks closed and you try to spend as little time as possible getting what you need. 

On the other hand, you've spent more than enough time in here during shifts getting your shit together. The mayhem reduced to a low murmur, cool air feeling good against hot skin when the world spinning out of control. 

The stool scrapes against the concrete as you pull it out, it's sturdier than the rest, heavy, with a high back and sides, faded rose upholstery rough against your fingers

Your only Tuesday regular Bill, if he arrives, is always after 4 but before 6. You finish up putting away your cleaning supplies and head to the office, retrieving the tape you need which sits snugly amongst invoices and bills in the corner filing cabinet. 

It was only your first week  when Bill had come shuffling into your life, with no warning from Gus other than to keep the music low and to pull out a chair from the back.

At 5.15 in he walks, grey flat cap low on his head walking with an unsteady canter that still after all this time has you moving down the bar toward him, regardless of the fact you know he'll wave off your offer of help. 

“Hey Bill”

The creases in his face deepen as he smiles at you, familiar and warm and you make the small walk to the bar from the door with him helping him into his seat. A single measure of scotch already sat prepared and waiting. 

He's an old gossip truth be told and between history, wars and weddings he scatters stories of people around town. Most stories you already know and you smile along, asking rehearsed questions you know the answers to. 

He hums to Ella Fitzgerald in the quiet moments as you busy yourself with simple chores, he calls out your name shaking his glass. 

He's the only person who uses your name. 

On that first meeting four years ago, as you buzzed around like a fly. A hastily written list of unfamiliar jobs trembling in your hands, the paper damp and creased at the edges. 

He had watched you quietly. 

The previous Saturday had been on a loop in your head. Gus’s face as he watched you drop a fresh bottle of tequila onto the floor, countless wrong orders and angry customers. 

“What's  your name?”

It's so soft you almost don't catch it, and Jazz is all but out of your mouth before the sincerity sitting in his eyes makes you swallow the lump in your throat.

You gave him your first name with a croaky voice and he'd smiled warmly at you.

“Beautiful name." he'd said" Why don't you sit for while."

It's always 7 on the dot when James appears, he's in his late thirties, 36 if Bill is to be believed, but if so he's been 36 the whole time you've known him. So, who's to know? 

Always in a different shade of beige shirt and brown slacks, he looks like his dad.

“Hey, Pops.” He leans against the bar next to Bill and pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“James my boy, what are you doing here?”

James glances at you and you give a tight-lipped smile busying yourself with slicing lemons, hissing as fingers sting around your nail beds. 

“I thought I could give you a ride back”

He pats James's arm “Stay for a drink, she makes a mean scotch,” he says nodding his head towards you with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows that makes you laugh.

“Bill, you don't even have ice.”

“Linda's expecting me,” James cuts in, “in fact why don't you come for dinner? She's making pot roast? The kids would love to see you.”

“Now how could I refuse an offer like that”  he says throwing back the last of his drink 

You smile at him and he takes your hand over the bar. 

“We should do this again soon.” 

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand over his. 

James gives you a pointed look and you remove your hand quickly, telling them to drive safe as they walk out slowly arm in arm. 

……. 

Thursday morning had started so well.

Nestled in your comforter, the world soft and warm, you'd managed a good half hour of drifting between dream and reality before your furry flatmate Sme had started eating your hair, signalling it was time to get up. 

After feeding the beast you'd fed yourself, got out a pan, prepped eggs and thick toast with the radio turned up. Sang off-key and danced with your less than enthused cat while it cooked.

Paused to disinfect the scratches. 

You'd showered with the last of the birthday body wash and matching body lotion your mom had gotten you, and dressed in your weekend uniform of black tank top which shows just enough cleavage to increase your tips and the acid wash jeans that make your ass look great. 

You felt good. 

But, the incipient doubts started trickling in on the bus ride over. They come out of nowhere like a tide coming in as the waves of adrenaline build, little by little. 

What if they don't show? Would Gus give up?  

Drizzle starts to catch the window as you near your stop blurring the passing buildings and you blink hard as if it would reverse the thought.

Would he call it a day? Decide you don't need a band. 

Making your way off the bus the rain is getting heavier sliding down the neck of your flannel making your shoulders hunch while you try to hurry and find your keys in your overfilled rucksack.

With shaking hands you place the key in the lock and storm in, letting your belongings drop in a pile at your feet. You stand at the edge of the dark room covering your face with your hands. 

Inhale, exhale. Shit. Please don't spoil this. 

Okay, throw yourself into the day, and gain back some of that excitement. Get music on, don't let the silence creep in. Keep busy. 

It helps for a while, but everything is done at speed, the waves are up to your neck and your treading water. 

You fly through your to-do list and when there's no more to do, everything is in place and the whole place smells of stringent lemon cleaner. 

Trying to think of anything left to do your eyes drift across the empty stage, and your stomach drops.

What if it's a bust? Gus would hate them, or everyone would hate them. You would have to watch their dejected faces as they leave. 

“It's going to be fine,” you say aloud but the sound shakes. 

But what if it's not?

What if the band hates it? Or Gus liked them so much that he just put them in rotation at the weekend. 

You're heart pounds. You're drowning. You go to take a glass from the shelf under the bar still hot and damp it slides straight out of your hand and smashes onto the floor. 

The women's bathroom door slams against the tile as you head for the sink, running cold water against your wrists until it hurts, until your fingers are numb. 

“Stop it. “You say to your reflection finger pressed against the glass a rivulet of water drips down and you follow it, watching until it disappears along the edge of the glass. 

Not today. 

The band arrives a little after noon, an old zip lock pack of saltines in the bottom of your bag and seltzer water has calmed your stomach and you stand eyes closed focusing on Hetfield's voice and the feeling of the exposed brick cool against your back when the door’s abruptly kicked open. 

Your eyes snap open to see Gareth armed with a disassembled drum kit struggling through the door and you rush over to hold it open.

“Decided you come back then.” you laugh awkwardly cringing internally at the waver in your voice. 

“We had to push some stuff around," Jeff says, giving you a warm smile with Grant not far behind. 

He pauses to look at you, crease between his eyebrows and shakes his head silently, a huff of laughter comes out on your exhale and you feel the knots in your stomach lessen. 

“Thank you, ma'am,” Eddie says with a nod, high hat rattling with each step. 

You stand in front of the stage, picking at the dry skin around you nails you feeling redundant as you watch them set up silently. 

“Okay, so what did Gus tell you guys? You have a set list right?”

“Hour set?” Eddie says looking up at you, no waver in his voice despite his shaking hands, reaching into his back pocket he takes out wrinkled lime green paper and passes it down to you. 

You nod unfolding it and see ransom note-style letters pieced together to advertise tonight, you smile at the devil's face drawn in thick black lines. 

“With a 15 minute break so you might need to cut some songs,” you flip the flyer over to see the scrawl of songs, a mess of different handwriting, songs crossed out and others squeezed in between. 

The boys watch you as you silently read chewing at the raw patch of skin on your lip wincing when you taste blood  “Metallica to open?” 

Sly smiles are shared by the band. 

“Maybe we should start with something, slower?” You say finally looking up just in time to watch their faces fall. 

“It's a good set, I just don't want to change it just. Rearrange it.”

“That's changing it,” Eddie says flatly. 

You bristle slightly at his tone, anxiety making your temper short “We have the open mic first which is,”  you pick up your notebook and flip through it “mainly acoustic and, an acapella band, apparently” You snap it closed. 

Eddie frowns at you arms tucking under each other. 

“Ease them in okay.” You plead “You're good. I'm on your side, but this is my, baby. It needs to go smoothly. Please, work with me. Start slow. Melt their faces later.” 

“She's the boss,” Jeff says, cutting off your ramble, plucking a string which reverberates out over the room. 

“No, not the boss. I’m just- ”

“If it's your baby, does that make us your babies?” Gareth says leaning over his drums, a faux thoughtful look on his face. 

What the fuck. You wrinkle your nose at him. 

“Melt their faces later. ”

Eddie says as he hitches his guitar over himself running his hand down the neck and making it squeal.

“Got it, boss.”

The second time around and past the haze of excitement of finally having a band, you find yourself hearing them with fresh ears.

You can hear off beats and cues missed, they aren't going to be headlining any arenas, but they're more confident than when you last saw them, they command the stage and you find the excitement which was there this morning flutter and spark in your chest. 

Reluctantly you stop them after only a few songs, but a noise complaint from Marg at the deli next door is not something you need right now.

“Please be on time,” you say as they gather themselves to leave. 

“We'll be early. I want to see the acapella group.” Gareth laughs. 

“No.” You bite out your finger meeting Gareth's chest as you descend on him in a couple of short steps. “No being assholes. Am I clear?”

You turn to look at the rest of the group. “They're  just as much a part of it as you are and unless you want to get booed off stage by the crowd you will behave or so help me god I will drag you off-.”

“Well behave.”

Eddie says walking into your line of sight, arms wide blocking you from the youngest member of the band. There's that look again, recognision and familiarity but it dances with amusement that makes you frown harder.

He purses his lips to hide the smirk that's threatening to break out at the sight your angry face.

“Look, thanks for giving us a shot.” He tilts his head and then looks back over to the guys with expextent eyes.

“Yeah, we appreciate it, fighting our corner and all,” Jeff says stepping up to stand by Eddie's shoulder and you watch as Grant nods at you saying his thanks then turning to shove Gareth when he doesn't respond. 

He rolls his eyes and lets out a reluctant thanks. It's quiet but there. 

“I meant what I said,” you sigh “I want you guys to be here. But it only works if everyone is on the same page.”

You let them out and watch as they head down the street, puddles on the floor catch the sunlight and make everything a little too bright, but the air feels too good on your clammy skin so you let yourself just stand for a moment as they walk out of sight. 

…… 

“Don't touch that!“ you say rushing over to Jay, his hand stops mid air hovering over Eddie's guitar. 

“Come on, they won't know.”

“I'll know dipshit, go help Charlie with the tables.” you point to your other Thursday night bartender while she struggles to carry the small circle table out of the back room and he sulks off towards her. 

Mental checklists on repeat you murmur to yourself as your eyes look over the records and framed posters that clutter the walls. Nerves at a manageable hum, the rest of the afternoon had gone on without a hitch.

A low whistle from the bar drags you back to reality and you see Angie and Gus walking in. 

“Look at you” Jay says, shaking his mop of blonde hair at her and she gives him a twirl satin purple shirt which flares at her wrists floating as she spins. 

 Gus watches her hands jammed into the pockets of his soft leather trench coat with affectionate eyes. 

“Decided to dress up for the occasion?” you say hopping off the stage and walking to him, tugging on the oversized lapels.  

“Hands off the good," he says sweeping the patches you touched. 

“You fly in or?” you eye his lapels 

“Don't be mean,” Angie says, coming to place her hands on his chest and shoo you away. 

It was odd to see him like this, on the other side of the bar while you fixed him a drink. Calm, and relaxed, they curl around each other a fondness in each of their eyes that makes your chest ache. 

George comes in and brings the cool air with him and Charlie nervously passes him a beer.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly and she scuttles away. 

He’s not dissimilar to Gus in appearance, tall and broad, covered in tattoos, hair shaved to a glossy shine, which Jay once asked if he polished and got a silent death glare in return. 

That was the main difference, he doesn't have the conversational skills, silent and well scary. The stereotypical picture of an angry metalhead and a good fucking doorman. 

He's given you a jump more than once, appearing silently behind you while you argue with douchebags no other warning of his presence than. 

“Do I need to put them out? “

They usually leave fairly quickly. 

As the neon light clicks to life in the window the street outside is cast in a gentle red glow and people start to slowly filter in.

It starts with old regulars, familiar faces who want a quick drink before it gets too crowded and then the weekend shift gangs appear. Co-workers commiserating over drinks to the weekend ahead and couples who want time together before becoming ships in the night for the next three days. 

It's a simmer of chatter and laughter, the jukebox roaring to life with each clink of change that goes in. Long shadows dance across the walls as people move around. Glasses are collected, and leisurely small talk and quips are shared as you serve. 

By 6 pm the procession of people coming in is steady, open mic performers and their friends greeting you as you sort through slots and take names for anybody who's decided to show up on the night. 

The bar is constant, little time to talk but practised greetings and thanks as the three of you work. 

It's a dance you know,  reaching for drinks without a second thought, prices and measures all done from memory, Jay works much the same reaching around you for glasses and garnishes as he flirts with anything with a pulse and a gaggle of women wait on him. 

Charlie on the other hand is new-ish. 4 months isn't long enough to get the dance and she stutters and flounders around herself. 

Freshly 21, her short hair is sticking up on end, looking sickly under the blue and red bulbs, her eyes are frantic as she looks through glass bottles. 

“Hey, what are we looking for?” you say pulling out the vodka and pouring a measure into a glass. 

Her breath stutters as she goes to speak and you put the glass down, you've seen that look before, had that look before

“Hey, I need you to head to the back and take a minute, okay.” 

“No, I'm fine”

“You're not" you say firmly and that's okay but I need you here tonight so I need you to go take a minute.” 

She squeezes her eyes closed, nodding quickly before pushing past Jay to the back room, you make eye contact with Angie who slips from her seat and in after her. 

As 7 pm comes you head up to the stage, heart hammering. The room quiets down as all attention falls on you. 

“Hi guys,” you say into the mic mouth like cotton “so thanks for coming out tonight we've got six great acts. Erm, be nice and make sure to give them a lot of encouragement.” 

You see Eddie enter first the rest of the band behind him and they all grin at you. 

“And we have a great band playing afterwards! Corroded Coffin. If you haven't seen the posters around town already, then well, if you guys like them maybe we will keep them around. “

You smile awkwardly at the boys and a few heads follow your gaze. 

“Okay, I'm getting out of here, first up we have an old favourite for you guys, the one and only Tony Lyth.”  

You practically jump off the stage after a polite exchange with Tony. Wiping your sweating palms down the sides of your jeans, your face hot. 

You make your way down to the end of the bar and spot  Angie as she tries to fluff Eddie's hair. 

“Early?” you tease as you make your way past them and Eddie swats her hands away. 

“Need to see that acapella group” Gareth says leaning over the bar and you give him a warning look before making your way down to check on Charlie. 

You bounce between serving and introducing each act as the boys watch on. 

“She looks like she's going to puke. “Jeff says watching you ramble on, trying to sell the acapella group to a crowd who are used to a slightly heavier tone to their evening entertainment.

“She's actually better than she used to be.” Gus pipes up from behind them taking a long drink his eyes never leaving you. 

The boys grimace as you laugh loudly at your own joke only to be met with a few murmurs and pitying half laughs in response. 

“It's cute,” Eddie says head tilted watching as you wave the group on stage and jump straight off after. You rush over to behind the bar and snatch the drink from Gus's hand and down it. 

You look at all their amused faces and scowl. 

“Shut it.”

The acapella group crushes it. Doing heavier song covers with comedic timing woven in and you reign in the urge to shove it in Gareth's face. 

The bar gets busier again once the acts finish. Beers and glasses of wine turn to spirits and shots as people leave and the crowds change. 

Time slips away and when you see the band set up you run over before they start. 

“Are you guys good?” 

“Bigger crowd than we're used to.” Jeff laughs, the nerves in his throat making the tone fall flat. 

“You'll be fine, just, pretend you're back home” 

They all crack up. 

“We'd rather not,” Eddie says leaning into you. 

“Okay, well.”

“Are you giving us an intro?” Grant asks face stoic and ba-dum-tss comes from the drums behind him and you see Gareth grinning.

Little shit. 

You suck your teeth “No I'll leave you guys to introduce yourself.” 

Feedback comes from the stage as you press your way through people, the din of voices lowering. 

You settle behind the bar and watch as Eddie approaches the mic.  The lights catch the haze of smoke which sits heavy in the air, swaying with the movement of bodies. 

“Hello, boys and girls.” Eddie purrs, mouth close to the mic a wolfish grin spreads on his face. It's infectious and you look over to Angie as she woops loudly. 

“We're Corroded Coffin.” He makes eye contact with you and as the first chord is played you feel your stomach clench. 

Stupid pretty boy charm. 

Your face hurts from smiling, body moving behind the bar to the beat of the music. As customers steadily come in you see more of the band's flyers strewn around as the open mic crowd filters out. You start to recognise more faces. 

Your eyes dart over to Gus at slow points and you hope it's not just the drinks in his system making him grin like that. 

The first half is over before you know it and a swell of pride rises in your chest at the sight of them all, sweaty, laughing and grinning as they step off the stage only to have people crowd them. 

 As you see Gus and Angie walk over the doubt creeps in again, but the crush at the bar makes it so you can't see the conversation, serving drinks on autopilot, you miss them head back on stage, the sound of Eddie's voice makes your head snap up. 

“Right okay uh,” he laughs, strumming the guitar once. “Fuck, looks like we will be seeing your beautiful faces again. ” 

“Yes!” You throw your arms into the air, the word out before you can stop yourself, and the crowd turns. You pull your arms down, unable to rid yourself of the grin still plastered across your face as you fold into yourself at the attention. 

The band laughs and Eddie leans back into the mic

“We only have a couple of songs left but, shit, make sure to see us here every Thursday.” you watch him wipes his hand over his face sweat making his bang stick out awkwardly, grinning he points over to the bar and sends you a wink, “Tip your bar staff folks.”

[crappymixtape]

touch me, babe

REQUEST → 500 follower celebration, @steveharringtonscarkeys • personal prompt: 🧡 with stevie boy :) a couple details consist of; i'm a ginger w/ curly hair, am really into 70's music and play electric guitar! | ( 3.1k – sprinkles of fluff, mostly smut, friends to lovers, steve x reader )

T O U C H M E, B A B E 🎶 i can't get my head around you, billie marten

Come on, come on, come on. Now touch me, babe. What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said?

Scratchy, electric riffs buzzed through the thick, stormy summer air. Catching on the too-hot breeze that blew in through Steve’s open window. Carrying like they always did out your open garage door and tangling up with your voice as it wrapped around each note.

Steve thought Jim Morrison didn’t have shit on you.

Swinging a leg out over the window ledge he leaned back against the wood frame and let the sound wash over him. Plucked guitar strings, static rubbing against the lyrics, tractors pulling discs through the field over the fence and the constant hum of his pool filter. Clouds stretched across the wide, darkening expanse of the Indiana sky, towering high overhead and threatening rain.

A sliver of warm light fell out onto the street from the fringe lamp he knew was sitting next to your amp on the floor. He could picture your fingers pressing and sliding up and down the fret board. Cherry red guitar held tight against your body. Messy, strawberry curls falling loose from the tie you’d twisted them up into.

A car sped past and cut through the beam of gold, making it flicker against the pavement, and Steve felt the tiny embers in his chest catch fire as you reached the chorus.

Now, I’m going to love you ‘til the heavens stop the rain. I'm going to love you ‘til the stars fall from the sky, for you and I.

He pictured your lips pressed against the mic, body swaying along with the music, the long sweep of your lashes fanning out across your cheeks as you closed your eyes during the parts you really felt. The parts you loved to sing most.

Come on, come on, come on. Now touch me, babe. What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said?

Steve bit the inside of his cheek between his teeth.

Debating.

The embers in his chest licking at his ribs.

What are you waiting for?

Pushing himself off the ledge he ducked back into his room and ran down the stairs taking them by twos. The dirty Blazers on his feet slapping against the concrete as he jogged out the door onto his walkway and across the street.

To you.

Now, I’m going to love you ‘til the heavens stop the rain. I'm going to love you ‘til the stars fall from the sky, for you and I.

The chorus flung you out into the ether like it always did. Consumed you. Each word sung as if you were performing for a crowd of thousands and not in your messy garage.

Your fingers had a mind of their own as they danced along the strings of your guitar, hitting each chord effortlessly and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the song reached its crescendo. Your favorite part. Building and swelling and pushing at the edges until you hit the last note.

Stronger than dirt.

Stepping back from the mic you shook loose curls out of your face and leaned down to toss the stereo chord out of your way when a sharp sound pulled your gaze up.

“Steve?”

Hair swept messy and stuck across his forehead in the humidity, he had that stupid smile on his face. The one that made everything go hazy and he was clapping.

“Shut up,” you teased, grinning, all play and no heat, and he smirked right back.

“What? You make Morrison sound like shit.”

Your mouth dropped open, mock offense as you pulled your guitar up over your head and set it on the stand.

“Steven, that’s blasphemy.”

“Not if it’s true,” he shrugged his shoulders, stepping into the garage where the breeze couldn’t reach and the air shifted. Pressed into him. Charged. Electric like your cherry red guitar.

“What’re you doing anyway,” you said, more a statement than a question, looked over at him through the ginger curls that kept falling down into your face and the grin on his lips fell a little. The way your eyes met his caught him off guard and all of a sudden he was a little unsure.

What was he doing?

Clearing his throat he carded a hand through his hair and shrugged again, “Dunno. Heard you playing and thought I’d come over.”

“Oh,” you said softly, smiling a little at the way his nerves peeked through. All bravado and confidence and King Steve swept away by time and experience and, if he was being honest, you.

His eyes widened a bit at your reply and he quickly thumbed over his shoulder, “Uh–I could go if–”

“–no, stay,” you cut him off, took a step forward and grabbed his hand.

Steve looked down at where your palms were suddenly pressed together and then you felt the air shift too. The heat of summer, the faded scent of Steve’s cologne, fresh laundry and spearmint and boy and you bit your lip between your teeth.

Your best friend. The one who told you, you were better than Jim Morrison. The one who’d come listen to you play even if it was pouring down rain, even if your garage was as hot as an oven, even if you didn’t feel like playing and maybe it was the heat or maybe it was the way Steve was looking at you, but you wanted – no needed – him to stay.

“Please stay?” you asked again, quieter this time and Steve swallowed thick. Jaw ticking as he pressed his teeth together. Worked to muster up the courage to finally just do what he knew you both wanted and took a step closer, pressed the toes of his dirty, beat up old Blazers into your black Chucks.

“Okay,” he half-whispered, lashes sweeping across his cheeks as he blinked heavy and took you in.

Strawberry blonde and freckles. Sweet like cherries and soft like rain. Curls that framed your face so perfectly he was set to fail the moment he laid eyes on you and his brows furrowed together the longer he looked, almost as if in pain, and he shook his head in disbelief.

”So fuckin’ pretty,” he couldn’t help it now, felt like he was being pulled into your orbit, lifted a hand to your cheek and let out a small sigh. “Can I–can I kiss you?” it was shy, tentative and unsure and it made the heat in your chest glow and flicker to life.

Even if you wanted to say something back you couldn’t and instead let your fingers tangle into the fabric of his shirt, pulled him down into you and pressed your lips to his.

It was a soft thing, tentative and searching and new and you could feel him smile against you. Like letting loose a held breath. Like plunging into the pool in the heat of summer. Lost and tumbling through time and space until he slowly pulled away, big brown eyes taking you in. But his smile faded the longer he looked and the little pinch reappeared between his brows. Like he was trying to work through it all and he bit at the inside of his cheek, kicking himself for stopping.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly, out of character and far from smug, a silly question with even sillier timing and you felt your cheeks flush as you laughed softly.

“You never asked,” you answered simply and he gave you a lopsided smile.

“I wanted to, for the record,” he insisted and it made you laugh again, louder this time and you took his face in his hands.

“And my answer still would’ve been yes, for the record,” your tone was teasing, but as your eyes searched his, he knew you were far from it and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Yeah? Can’t say no to this face, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed through a groan and sighed, “You can be smug all you want, Harrington, but you have horrible timing.”

That made him chuckle, but it was a sheepish thing and his cheeks were hot as he cleared his throat, a sorry mumbled into the air between you and it made you press your hand back to his chest.

“S’okay,” you murmured back, the tease in your tone fizzling out at the way Steve’s hand was pressed into your hip. The way his breath warmed over your cheek. They way his cologne made you feel hazy and when he lifted a hand to slip his fingers through your curls it made your breath catch your throat.

He held your head in his hand and blinked heavy, looked at you through the long sweep of his lashes and leaned down again all slow, but this time when he kissed you it was full of heat. Curiosity giving way to something more urgent, something needy and you felt yourself giving in.

He held tight to your waist, pressed his fingers into you and pulled you in close, your hips bumping together as he walked you back against the wall of the garage. Stumbling over your stereo chord, Steve’s hand squeezed at you, kept you steady and you both couldn’t help laughing a little.

“Would’ve played Morrison sooner if I’d known you’d like it that much,” your tone teasing again and Steve chuckled, a low rumble that made your stomach flip over.

“Yeah, well–” pulling back he looked down at you, smile lopsided, all boy, lips pink and breaths falling a little faster, “–don’t know til you try it I guess.”

He was so fucking pretty. Even in the stuffy, thick air that had settled in the garage. Especially with the way his hair was stuck messy across his forehead. Skin dewy, tanned and dotted in new freckles and moles, washed in gold from the sun. His eyes glittered dark in the dim light from your lamp, whiskey and amber and warm honey, and the absence of his mouth on you struck you sharply.

“Steve…” came out, an almost a whine, pleading and his eyes closed. Let your voice settle in his chest. The way you said his name. Pouring into his ears and filling him up until it spilled over at the edges. He was done for.

Leaning into you again he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, “Tell me.”

A clap of thunder overhead made the windows in the garage shake, lightning slicing the sky in two and it began to rain. Slow at first then faster still, dropping heavy on the roof overhead and drowning out your reply, so you took his hand instead and ran it down your body.

Over the swell of your chest, the dip of your waist, the plush of your thighs, slower and slower until you stopped. Settled it between your legs and looked up at him, needy and wanting, and he swore softly under his breath. Swallowed thick. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat at what you were silently telling him, his tongue running along his bottom lip in a rare show of nerves.

“Please,” you asked and he let out a strangled sound, did as you asked and dipped back down to press kisses along your jaw. Open mouthed and teeth feather light when he reached your neck and it burned the way he felt on you, pulling pretty sounds from your throat and making the ache in his jeans unbearable.

The hand he had at the seam of your legs moved up with ease to the button on your shorts, popped it open and pulled the zipper down. Slowly running his fingers along the lace trim on your panties he felt each of the tiny embroidered flowers there. Pinks and lilacs and buttercup yellows. Soft and sweet. The pad of his thumb bumping over them as he slipped his hand down lower and lower until he could feel just how much you needed him and he groaned at how wet you were, an almost pained sound, and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Christ, baby.”

Baby.

“You okay?” he asked through gritted teeth and you could barely hear him over the rain on the metal roof, so you looped an arm over his shoulder to pull him down into you.

“M’okay,” you murmured into his ear and he loosed the breath he’d been holding, the feeling of it warming over the exposed skin on your shoulder.

Bringing his lips back to your neck he dragged them along your collarbone, the swell of your breasts sucked pretty little marks on your skin and pulled your panties aside. Fingers slipping in your slick there he drew slow, lazy circles over your clit and god it made your breath catch in your throat.

“Sh-shit,” you hissed, keening high, frustrated little sounds falling from your lips as you pressed up onto your toes to reach him better, your legs starting to tremble and he tutted.

“No, no no,” and pulling his hand away you made a noise of protest, but then he was wrapping his hands behind your thighs and lifting you from the ground, “Shh, I got you, baby.”

Walking you across the garage he set you atop the work bench, lifted a hand to push strawberry curls out of your eyes as the rain fell impossibly harder above you. Rubbing like static against your ear drums and when you finally looked up Steve was kneeling between your legs. Looping his fingers into the belt loops on your shorts and lifting his brows in question.

“Lemme take care of you, hm?” he asked over the rain, “Can I do that, baby?”

And all you wanted then was the feeling of him between your legs again. Yes, yes, yes, spilled from your mouth and he tugged at your shorts, eased them down along with your panties over your knees and off onto the floor. Hooked his hands big and wide behind the crook of your legs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table.

Mouth pink and kiss bitten he licked over his bottom lip, anticipating how you’d taste, and slowly spread your legs open. Trailed his fingers back through your folds and pulled away. Swallowed hard at how they glistened with you in the low lamplight and looked up at you, pupils blown wide. All amber and warm honey.

“Oh baby. Baby. Gonna make you feel good, honey,” he babbled, kneeled forward and pulled you even closer so that the tip of his nose brushed against your tummy. Pressed kisses to your thighs, held tight to your leg and brought his hand back to your pussy. Spread your lips with his fingers and ran his tongue flat and wide through you and the pretty moan it pulled from you made his heart stutter.

“More, need you,” you were begging now, wiggling your hips on the table and he didn’t make you ask again, dipped back down into you and lapped at you with his tongue, made you see stars. Licking and sucking like a man starved and when you bucked up against his face he pressed kisses against you.

“What d’you want, princess, tell me.”

“Your fingers, Steve, please.”

And as he took his hand away from your cunt you nearly cried, but then he was sucking on his fingers. Wrapping his lips around them and making the coil in your stomach wind even tighter as you watched him drag them from his mouth with a pop and it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as he pressed his fingers back up against your entrance and slowly slipped them into you. The middle one first, in and out, in and out, warming you up before adding the second one and god the stretch you felt was so fucking perfect.

“Yes, oh shi–” you sucked in a breath as he set the pace, slow and heated, “–just like that.”

His fingers were so much longer than yours, pressing into the spot you couldn’t reach on your own, and when he put his mouth back on you it pulled a filthy moan from your lips. It was almost too much. His tongue flicking at your clit while his hand worked you up, wound you tight, tugged you closer and closer until your breaths grew shallow and you tangled your fingers into his hair.

When you pulled at the ends he hummed, the feeling vibrating against you as he picked up the pace and filled the garage with the sound of his fingers working into you.

Huh, huh, huh, you weren’t capable of words, instead letting out a sob with each thrust.

“S-so close, oh my god,” you were gasping, “Faster, Steve.”

And he took his mouth away from you, replaced it with his thumb on your clit, slipped it in messy circles as his fingers fucked you faster.

“C’mon, baby, come for me. So good for me,” words of praise fell from his lips, warm like honey and saccharine sweet and you finally felt the coil in your stomach snap.

“Oh shi-shit, oh fuck,” you gasped for breath, back arching perfectly with Steve’s fingers still deep inside you and he’d never seen anything so pretty in all his life. As he slowed he eased you down, gently pulled his hand away from you and let you fall forward into his arms, legs shaky from the effort.

“Doin’ okay?” he asked, softly teasing and grinning into your neck where he’d pressed his face to kiss at the skin there.

“Shut up,” you laughed, still breathless, pinching at his sides and it pulled a laugh from him too.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, still nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Mmhm,” you murmured, exhaustion slowly wrapping around your body.

“Think you’re perfect,” he said, pulling away just enough to catch your sleepy gaze and it made your heart skip a beat. Made your lips tug up into a small little smile. Made you shake your head and mumble in protest, but he tutted them away, “M’serious.”

“You also think I’m better than Morrison and everyone knows that’s shit,” you teased and he squeezed at you, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your ear, your cheek.

“Well then I’m shit,” he confessed, softening, kissing at your lips all sweet and holding you tight to his chest, “But I don’t care. Long as I have you.”

And god, did he have you.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[mists-reading-nook]

how dare you write so amazingly about creator with religious trauma cause you have hit the spot. Not sure if asks are open, but can I ask for continuation? Maybe reader gets progressively depressed and your followers tried everything to make you feel better like triple the worship, more offerings, maybe even sacrifices but nothing works and one time the creator just breaks down about everything that they feeling and how the worshipers never listen to them, and how the all ever wanted is to be friends with all the characters and not some god, and maybe even tell the characters the trauma from their past live

Jwusjsnejjejejenebahked Omg my first ever ask!! I'm so happy <3

Also,asks are 100% open! I love getting stuff like this,so please ask all you want!

Also that is literally the best idea ever anon omg

Anyway,this is what I like to call a "mirror fic". I.E,I write 2 endings!!

Tw: sacrifices,mentions of death,cults,religious trauma,yeah reader isn't ok,but neither are the acolytes

You finally tell them

Ft- Zhongli

It had been months. Months cooped up in this stupid Cathedral that made your stomach twist and your breathing slow. Months getting gifts and offering and prayers you didn't want. You never wanted to be a God. You began to withdraw. You stayed cooped up in your stupid extravagant room,spending more time reading or staring out the window,or even just sleeping. You could barely breathe most of the time,you felt so trapped. Your lovely acolytes were getting worried.

What had they done wrong? What has made the creator so sad? Were they angry with them? So many questions,so little answers. They couldn't just ask you,that would be absurd! So the priests,church leaders,Adepti,Archons,and your main vessels led a project to cheer you up. It was awful. Your "home" stank of blood,mixed with the sickly sweet smell of food offerings. They had amped up the prayers and worship and offerings and sacrifices. You began to have to attend more sermons,more church services that left you terrified and out of breath. You had to sit through sermon after sermon,song after song about you. It was terrifying,and made you want to cry until nothing was left.

You had even begun to attend sacrificial ceremonies in person. Before they would simply offer the remains of the sacrifice,but now you were seeing the rituals. You were forced to watch so many die for your sake. It made you so…sick. So disgusted. It was after one of these ceremonies that you finally broke. You were sitting on your golden throne, your most loyal and coveted acolytes by your side,when you simply began to cry. You cried and cried and you just couldn't stop. You weeped for all the lives lost in your name. You sobbed for all the people that would never see another day because of you. But most of all,you cried for yourself. You let tears fall down your cheeks,hardening into crystals that fell at your feet. You cried for all the horrors you experienced,both in the past and present. You cried for the changes in your body,the golden blood that now ran through your veins,the crystal tears,the shimmering hair.

The world began to quake at your tears. The winds whipped and howled,the rain fell like bullets. Lightning dashed across the sky,and the ground trembled and shook. The world seemed to be weeping with you. It was listening to your cries and responding in the best way it knew how. When a particularly loud sob racked your chest,thunder came crashing down,lighting following soon after. The rain fell harder,and the ground shook even more. Tevyat was mimicking your body language,and the entire world knew of your pain.

All the things that had happened to you,all the things you'd seen and heard,came rushing back to you like water down a waterfall. The waterfall that manifested your sorrow. Your acolytes were by your side in a moment,kneeling at your feet and begging to know what was wrong. You felt your voice crack through your constant sobs. You let it all spill out,not knowing who you were addressing. You wanted to scream into the void. So you did. You screamed and sobbed and cried, Tevyat crying with you. You howled like the wind,screamed like thunder,spitting word after word like bullets. It all came off your chest in one long rant that didn't even feel real. You let the world feel your pain,as your acolytes kneeled at your feet in shock.

You cried for hours and hours,and you seemed nowhere near done. But then your tears began to dry,and your body felt achey and tired. After what felt like an eternity,your breathing slowed,your sobs turned into sniffles,and your head ached. You fell asleep in your gilded throne,eyes slipping closed despite how they ached,body losing all the tension it had been building just to slump into the plush fabric of the chair. Your acolytes were flabbergasted. What were they to do?

Zhongli proposed to ease the creator back into their role. "They are obviously scared and confused. We must help them remember their status." Many agreed. It would be best for their darling creator to ease back into their status. Only one person proposed letting them live as a regular mortal. They were laughed out of the conference room.

So it was set. They decided to ease you back into your "role" as creator,going as slow as possible so they didn't upset you. Some may have calked it selfish,but they thought they were helping you. After all,who wouldn't want to be god?

When you awoke,your most "loyal" creation sat at the side of your bed. You rubbed sleep from your eyes and stared at the man,waiting for him to speak. Your eyes had lost the sparkle they once had. They looked empty and dull. It looked as if your resolve was finally broken. You had given up on fighting it. Your empty eyes stared at the man,waiting and watching.

"...Your Grace,we understand your pain. We promise to do your best as your loyal followers to make you remember how * divine you truly are." Zhongli stated,straight to the point as always,with a voice as smooth as butter to match. You sat,defeated. They were never going to listen. You were trapped in this endless cycle of worship,and no matter what you did,you couldn't escape. You nodded numbly. Yes,you'd go along with it. There's not much you could do to change it otherwise.

You never wanted this.

*****

Fluff route!

*****

Zhongli proposed to treat the creator as they wished to be treated. "They are obviously scared and confused. We must treat them as they wish,for their own happiness." Many disagreed. It would be most inappropriate to treat you as a simple mortal. In the end,nothing was agreed upon. Zhongli simply shook his head and made his way to your quarters. When you awoke,your most "loyal" creation sat at the side of your bed. You rubbed sleep from your eyes and stared at the man,waiting for him to speak.

"...Your Grace, I apologize for the way i treated you. I didn't understand. I always thought of you as...heavenly....and unapproachable. I never thought you would ever wish to be 'friends' with lesser beings such as myself." Zhongli said,sorrow tracing his tone. To think his God had been suffering all this time…it made him sick. He wanted nothing more than to go on his knees and beg for forgiveness,but he understood that you didn't want that. So he simply sat and waited for your response. You nodded numbly. You let yourself hope,even for just a moment,that you could get out of this. You asked the question that would either make or break your life. The question that would either set you free or trap you further.

"Zhongli,would you like to be my friend?"

*****

And that's all I got lmao

[thatpodcastkid]

Magnus Archives Relisten 2, MAG 2

Second part of the relisten analysis, featuring my beloved Joshua Gillespie <3 Sorry this is a bit later in the day than expected, had it queued but must've saved it wrong.

Spoilers ahead!

Facts: Statement of Joshua Gillespie (my love) from November 22nd, 1998, regarding an empty wooden casket he acquired while living in Amsterdam.

Character Notes: Jon's from Bournemouth confirmed! Again, hindsight is hilarious when Jon says "it's nice to hear my hometown is not entirely devoid of odd occurrences." Like sir you were almost eaten by a book?

Statement Notes: Another instance of drug use. Again, I can't necessarily tell if this is just a device so that Jon can dismiss the statements or if the entities are specifically preying on people in fragile/weak states of mind.

But none of that matters because the incredible Joshua Gillespie was there <3 <3, smartest character in the series on God. Specifically loved the end of the statement when the man who gave him the coffin sees the key in the ice box and seems impressed, because damn I'm impressed to. The statement specifically says he was impressed after Gillespie "Told him where he could stick it." This definitely feeds into the idea that, as much as the fears prey on weak and scared people, they're really attracted to confident and bold people. I think a person's response to a scary scenario has a lot to do with whether they become an avatar or a victim; not necessarily whether they were scared or brave, but whether that fear overtook them or they dove into it. Gillespie really faced his fear of the coffin and just dealt with it in a head on, practical manner.

I don't recall the character who gives Gillespie the coffin coming up again, but of course his name is John. Obviously Breekon and Hope come up, but I don't remember this other guy showing up again, anyone else?

It's super interesting that the coffin didn't get delivered until after Gillespie spent the money, as if it was waiting for some kind of a debt to be established.

Entity Alignment: Little on the nose, but this is the Buried. It pretty weird, that although long term fans know this is Buried aligned "thing," there's really no mention of anyone entering or being buried in the coffin in this episode. But at the end of the statement, Tim discovers that no one was living in the building with Gillespie for many years. That could have to do with the money, whoever gave him the coffin may have set up the apartment sale to manipulate him into spending it, but a part of me really likes the idea that all the other residents wandered into the coffin while they slept, unable to resist the call. There's obviously evidence against that, being that no Tim found no one lived there for the entirety of Gillespie's residence and any other possible residence wouldn't have the coffin key.

People like to bring up the Vast/Buried dichotomy a lot, and I think it's really prevalent in this episode. Gillespie first hears the scratching on the coffin when he places a glass on it, but he doesn't hear the wailing until it starts raining. Thinking about the End episode in Season 5, where Oliver Banks determines things stop being scary if you become too used to them, I think hearing the rain is a tool used by the Buried to keep its victims afraid. It may be easy to succumb to the dirt and the darkness on a regular day, but a day you're reminded that there's a wide open sky you can't and won't ever be able to see? Not gonna happen. Letting the victims hear the rain amps up the fear and torment.

One of the best episodes in the series, let me know what you think!

[lutawolf]

Love In the Air Ep 13 Review & Running Commentary

Hey guys, this is the last one. For those who missed my other reviews, please find them here. I'm not afraid to admit I'm scared. I may end up documenting a trigger. Let's hope not.

We start the episode at school. Sig laminating about him being the only single person. How he is going to find himself a gf. I know a boy that you should be looking at Sig. I'm just saying.

Rain teasing Sky about all the pictures of him on Pai's social media. Pai is making sure everyone knows. That smile on Sky's face says it all. Oh, we are talking about the race. I don't wanna talk about the race. Ugh!

The Wind Will Embrace The Sky

Flashback to little Sky, all excited about going to school in Bangkok. Then , he was a teen and offered a cig. These fucking douche bag friends. At this day in age who encourages a friend to smoke. Even I didn't back in high school when I smoked. Like, don't do it. Everyone knows that inhaling smoke is stupid.

Time Stamp 6:11 we are introduced to Gun. The cum guzzling gutter slut. Sadly, you can see the instant stars in Sky's eyes. Ohhh... You are going to regret that eye contact baby boy. Gun comes up and takes to Sky which makes me want to puke. Time Stamp 7:39 them in bed together. The flicking of the lighter. That's going to turn into a nightmare right there. Sky telling Gun he loves him. Ugh, this sucks. I literally feel my heart picking up and catching. Guess who is going to pause and take there emergency anxiety. Yup, yup, for me it's worth it to watch the show. See, I might have to skip some parts to be safe but if I don't push myself in some things then my anxiety will get worse. That feeling of letting them win because I am not leading a normal life, not doing things I enjoy, will amp my anxiety more than watching.

Okay, so the friends aren't total douches. They are concerned for Sky. Never mind, they are. Shoving him and saying that you knew he was a piece of shit isn't going to help. Yeah, those burns aren't falling down the stairs. Time Stamp 9:39 Gun is hurting Sky, and Sky is begging. I really hope Gun dies. I'm just saying. Let me take the time to say that BDSM should never ever look like this. There doesn't have to be pain. If you want pain, then you can have it, but you also have the right to say when you do and don't want it. I don't care how deep of a submissive you are. That stands true.

Skipping from time stamp of 11:07 to 12:30. I know what happened from the book, and I can't. Can we please just have a Gun Reforestation Party. You know shovels, black salt, snacks, etc.

Sky wakes up from the nightmare. He is not sure why he was dreaming about that shit again. Cause the mind is a wonderful and painful thing, love. It really is. Sometimes, it loves us, and other times, it hates us. Poor baby. That's it, call someone, talking helps. Pai is not even bothered that it's night. Just asks if Sky misses him.

See, this is why someone like us needs a stubborn partner. This sort of thing doesn't phase. They worked too hard to scale the walls, so this is nothing big. Meanwhile, it's huge to us. Sky asks Pai to come so he comes. He's like, you need me to get you the moon too? Just let him know so he can start tying the ladders together.

Ohhh, if Pai only knew he was talking to the reason for Sky's nightmares. Ugh, so gross.

The way Sky rushes out to hug Pai! Oh! My heart! I needed this feel-good moment. Pai is no dummy, but he is so calm and patient. When Sky asks him to never let go of his hand, he just does it. Then they start getting heated. I know some of you are like, but you just had a nightmare! Sometimes, it's taking your mind off, it's replacing those moments with something else. Clearing away the cobwebs. Though it will come back, it's a reprieval.

Pai talking about how he used to be uncaring sweet talker aka fuck boy. Honestly, he is right, he never came off as uncaring. This is sickly sweet. I'm somewhere between gaging and making heart eyes. He becomes invincible. Sky saying he only wants Pai. Play wrestling, while giggling. 🤦‍♀️ I think I just got a tooth ache. 🤣🤣🤣

Here comes the roller coaster. Both Sky and Rain are at the race. It was only a year ago! 🤣🤣🤣 Ugh, if someone came up behind me like that. They'd have a broken nose. Nope. Sky seems to have known it was him, though. I love Pai so fucking much. He does not care what anyone else thinks and that's exactly what Sky needs. He just wants his Sky kisses but gets threats, lol.

Payu is so done. He's like, get your ass out there and race. The way Pai is threatening and making sure he knows to watch out for his babe. Just makes my heart crackle cause we all know what is coming. Love the don't talk to anyone and the sass back from Sky. Which is it, talk or don't talk and Pai being like, long enough to say your reserved. 🤣 Pai stealing a kiss, then raced off.

Rain is uncomfortable with Sky going by himself, but he is all sub. Sky has overridden him. Had Pai or Payu been there, he wouldn't have gotten his phone.

Trigger: Time stamp 23:42, Sky hears that clicking of the lighter and knows. I told you guys that lighter was going to become a trigger. Some noises become a trigger because you associate it with incoming pain. This would have automatically put Sky into a threatened feeling and emotions because he associates that sound with pain.

Trigger: Prapai is taking a break between races. Gun's friend saddles up to Pai and tells him that he's hitting on a girl and asks Prapai for his room key so he can impress her with a fancy room for a hookup. Prapai is not terribly happy about it but relents. Which is incredibly stupid. I don't care your reasons, Pai. I love you, but you dummy.

Trigger: Payu and Prapai talk about Gun and his friend. They don't trust him but have no idea why.

Trigger: Back to Gun and Sky. Gun jokes about how Sky looks all "fixed" up when he left him all broken. Sky tries to stand up for himself, but Gun taunts him about Prapai playing with him. Also, remember that Sky is triggered. He is feeling all the feelings from the past thanks to that click. "What did I teach you?" Gun taunts.

Trigger: Sky walks away, reeling from the things that Gun said. He's second-guessing himself while at the same time trying to remind himself of what he knows. Sky runs into Rain, who worries about him. Sky tells him he's feeling sick and is leaving. Sky then decides on telling Prapai everything about his past with Gun so he can live in peace. Sky comes back, and a guard told him that Prapai is waiting for Sky at their condo. Rain drives him to the condo, Gun's friend watches them leave. Rain drops him off, and while Sky is shaken, his mind set on the condo, where he can rest.

Trigger: Sky makes it to the condo, promising to tell Prapai everything. But when he walks in, there's the zippo click. Gun and his friends are there. Sky tries to run away, but Gun's friends catch him and drag him to the bedroom. Gun: "He's not my ex. He's just a toy. A toy I threw away." Gun's friends are playing Gun's script. They say that Prapai gave him away. Sky is breaking under Gun's taunts. Gun insists that the only way they could've gotten in the condo was Prapai giving them his key. Sky tries to defend Prapai but is breaking fast. Gun tells him that he showed Prapai pictures he took of Sky in the past. Gun: "he said," Take back your filthy shit. "" Gun takes his shirt off while Sky's vision goes out of focus. 🤢🤮🤮

Cut back to the race, and Pai wants to know where his baby is. Payu tells him that Rain took him away. Pai isn't upset about Sky leaving. He just wants to be with his honey. Then Rain shows up telling him to take care of Sky, which Pai assures him, this nurse can do. Then it clicks for Pai, and he loses his shit when he finds out what happened. He probably broke records to get to Sky.

Trigger: A shirtless Sky lies in bed. His expression is completely blank and devoid of life. Gun is on top of him caressing his hair. Prapai, Payu, and Rain storm in. Gun insists that Sky asked him to screw him. Please kill him, please kill him, please kill him. Deep breath. Okay. Rain busts in and says that they are all lying. I get why Pai yelled but fuck. That triggered my already triggered ass. It does help a very shell shocked Sky to start talking. Asking Pai if he can be just his, without being shared with others. Pai starts talking softly and reassuring Sky, all why covering him up and stroking his hair.

Once he has gotten through to Sky, he leaves him in the care of Rain. The to fucking son of bitches try to escape but Pai gets him. He starts pounding into him. I might have cheered and clapped out loud. WHY DID YOU STOP HIM PAYU!! I'm a little satisfied. Only a little though.

Pai races into the room to Sky. He starts attempting to get Sky to cry and release some of the trauma. He wants him to let it out so bad, he assures him that he'll be there for him, but Sky, he doesn't know how anymore. He tries demanding and begging, but when it's to no avail. Prapai's crying snaps Sky out of his shock. He wants to know why is Prapai crying. "Because you won't cry. If you can't cry... I'll cry for you. If you suffer. I'll suffer with you. If you're in pain. I'll be in pain, too." He is giving his boy vows. "Nothing gets better, even if I cry." "It does. Trust me. I'm right here... I promise I won't let you go through this again. I love you, Sky." At this point, Sky breaks and begs Pai to be telling the truth as he cries. To which Pai comforts him the whole time. If I weren't already in love with the man. This whole thing would do it.

Pai takes sky to his family home. When his sister goes to say something, Pai quickly shuts her down. Sky does not want Pai to leave him. Sky is expecting Pai to ask questions, but Pai tells him to just do it when he is ready. Fuck, I love you Pai. Sky starts to spill his story while Pai just gently strokes his hair. Letting him know he isn't alone. He says dreadful and horrible things about himself but Pai lets him talk because he know he has to get it out. This is 100% accurate to how a SA survivor in victim mode feels about themselves. It takes therapy and a lot of work to get out of that mind frame.

Sky asks Pai if he can really love him, and while crying, Pai assures him he can. Pai apologizes, wishing he had met Sky sooner. Sky just hugs him and rejoices in the fact that they did meet. Have I mentioned how much I love Pai? Because if I haven't. I really love him. Too late, you've already made a promise and a vow. I was there for it. No take backs.

Sky wakes up and goes looking for Pai. When he finds him on the balcony, he immediately gets embraced. That fucking microphone though! Sky is worried about Pai's family but he need not be. Who wouldn't love the marshmallow. An idiot that's who, fucking Gun. Hope your at the bottom of a lake somewhere. Pai assures Sky that his family will adore him. Daddy Chai is going to deal with the scum! Can we watch please? Please! I have a shovel and snacks. I could be a lot of help. 🙏🙏🙏

Pai asks about the actor who helped Sky move forward. "How sad would my loved ones be if I didn't love myself?" "If one person can ruin my life, how can I face my family?" These words helped Sky realize what was important to him. More promises and vows from Pai. Honey, you are as good as married.

"To win a stony heart. You must use your own."

Seriously. Pai became a better person because of his love for Sky. Even though he didn't realize he was in love yet. He knew he had to be better to have this boy, and he wanted him. Sky didn't mold him. He molded himself. Because Love.

Sky meeting the family and being embraced. Bugging Pai at work. Everything you could want for the boy. But wait! It gets better! Pai's uncle is the actor who inspired Sky. Jelly Pai is hilarious! Just look at this black giant for the rest of your life. 🤣🤣🤣

Well, that's all folks. This was an amazing roller coaster episode. It took us high, and it took us low. I loved it. I'm never watching it again, though. Once was good enough for me. I'll just stick to re-watching all the sex scenes. Yup, I'm a hoe on main. 💜💜💜 This was co-written by @akitbeast whom I couldn't have gotten through the review without.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

I feel stupid but: I came across a post where you said in the tags that Offgun are out as couple - was that a joke or are they confirmed to be dating? (I’m super new to them, so I genuinely do not know. Also, English is not my first language)

They made a statement in... March-ish this year that they are together (after an interview last year I think, where they basically said they've done slash do everything together besides be boyfriends)

In the grand tradition of The Internet, some people don't believe it, because... I have no idea. I think it's probably because they don't post a lot of fan service-y pictures of themselves, which I think makes it more real, but 🤷🏼‍♀️ (despite the ship tag going strong all the while? Fandom is wild, shipping culture is a weird place, friends)

Anyway, we've had the little smooch at Gun's birthday that Jennie posted, and the picture of Gun in bed that Off shared, so like... It looks an awful lot like they were telling the truth.

They obviously love each other a lot-- and have since before they were official -- and I wish them nothing but happiness.

Here's a video of a bit of the old interview, and part of their announcement :)

*I generally try not to speculate about the romantic lives of real people, but since I learned they were dating pretty much at the same time I discovered who they were, I feel okay about it this time*

P.S. please never feel stupid for asking a question! It's okay to not know things!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

the skeleton key | chapter seven: a caress of silver

”men wish to feel desired, women wish to feel in control”

-something i read learning about sexual needs (because i’m clueless otherwise) and something i wish this new generation of fic writers would understand already

It was one of those mornings in L.A. where the fog had rolled in and I was more than eager to head on out to the airport. I had to figure a way to go and meet the other guys again like what Marcy had told me, but for the time being, I was on my way to the Pacific Northwest. It had been quite some time since I had been up there, only ten years before.

Ten years. Ten years since I was last in Seattle.

It proved to be a homecoming for me the more I thought about it, and more so when I reached the airport and checked myself in for the first flight up the spine of the West Coast. I was going up there alone, and at some point, I was going to have to find my way back down to Sacramento to meet up with Marcy and Eric. And I was going to have to go back to work as well.

But for the time being, I was on my way up to the Emerald City, and I had my eye out for Alex once I touched down: apparently, his flight from Burbank came in at about an hour before me, which meant it was going to be me and him for a good chunk of the day. I chuckled to myself when I thought about seeing him from the plane window, that little plume of gray from the view into the airport. But I never did, until I reached the inside of the airport instead. He greeted me with those little buck teeth and his arms wide open for me.

“Hey, stranger!” I declared, and I held him close to me for a good long minute. It felt so wrong, but it felt so right at the same time. I then held back and gazed into his face, and I thought about giving him a kiss on those cherry lips. But then he beat me to the punchline and gave me a kiss, and he held me close again.

“Warm just like a bakery,” he remarked.

“I try my best,” I assured him with a smile.

“Come on... let's go check in and I'll take you to meet the guys,” he told me, and he offered to help me with my things out to the rental car that awaited us. I had my phone with me so I could take plenty of pictures for Marcy, but I was drawn to the big silvery camera dangled against Alex's hip, and more so when we prepared to go through baggage claim.

“Where'd you get that?” I asked him as we waited before the big conveyor belt.

“What, this?” He showed me the camera. “Oh, I've been into photography for a few years now. Randy—you may have seen him at the Metal Allegiance show, Randy Blythe, tall guy with the dreadlocks, the horned glasses, and the tattoos all over his arms, he's one of my best friends in the whole world—saw a picture I took and recommended I do more of that but with a proper photographer's camera. He lent me his and was thoroughly impressed by it, and then I had to give it back to him. It was an expensive camera.” And I chuckled at that.

“So you went ahead and got your own,” I followed along.

“Exactly!” he declared with a little twinkle to his eye. “And it seems to have done me justice, even as just a simple hobby on the side.”

My big blue overnight bag emerged on the conveyor belt, and he scooped it up for me and slung it over his shoulder.

“That's not too heavy?” I asked him as I remembered that I had packed a bunch of baking supplies in there.

“Not at all!” he assured me as we walked side by side. “Guitar cases and accompanying amps can get pretty heavy, but simple luggage is nothing for me.”

“You and your big, strong, lanky arms,” I noted with a glance at his biceps enshrouded under his peacoat, and I couldn't help myself. I reached up and gave him a squeeze on his upper arm.

“Yeah, you gotta be pretty strong to tour with a bunch of stuff like that,” he told me, and we stepped outside of the airport to the graying sky and the incoming rain. It was this gentle mist that fell in sheets, almost like the rain at the beach, and it was chilly enough for us to huddle together there at the walkway for a moment before we caught a break in the cars.

He led me to his rental, a small black hatchback with a rack on the roof even though we were nowhere near a place for skiing. He unlocked it for me and, once he tucked my bag next to his things, he turned to me with a deep, firm kiss on my lips.

“Make love to me,” he begged to me. “Give me what she can't give me.”

“You know I will,” I vowed to him.

“We're in Seattle, my dear,” he told me. “We should have some fun here.”

“Fun in Seattle even while it's pouring rain and drenching us down to our clothes.”

“Fun in Seattle with a cup of coffee and some scones,” he followed up.

“You want some scones?” I couldn't help the smile across my face.

“Yeah! You got any in your bag?” He chuckled at that.

“You wish,” I teased him. “I mean, I wanna make you some scones. Some chocolate ones, or chocolate and cherry like a play on the Black Forest cake.”

“Sounds devilish,” he replied with a slight squint to his eyes. “I like it. I think there is an oven in the room, too.”

“So, I could make some all for you,” I quipped, and I couldn't resist caressing his arms once again. “I brought my flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla extract, eggs, handheld mixer, measuring spoons and cups, pastry cutter, a couple of spatulas, and a sheet pan with me—I never go too far without them. I never know when I'm going to need them, so... I can definitely do that for you.”

“Oh, would you!” He cocked his head to the side a bit at the sound of that.

“You know it! Just let me get some other things first, like the chocolate and cherries and butter. I'll make sure they're kosher, too.”

He kissed my forehead right as the mist formed into straight rain, which then showered down in sheets over our heads. He then gazed up to the darkening sky, those blue eyes as bright as ever, and to the point I could not stop looking at them. In junction with the rain, they reminded me of the sky afterwards.

“You have the clearest eyes I have ever seen,” I told him, and he glanced down at me. The way his gray streak pointed up to the cold graying sky made me think it had descended from the clouds themselves. “You're like a ghost. The gray ghost.”

“I'm a dog,” he remarked with a straight face. “A wiry gray dog with floppy ears.”

“You mean the Weimareiner?” I asked him.

“Yeah, that's the one,” he replied with a snicker. He then peered up to the sky, such that the raindrops kissed his face and the crown of his head, and then he took a glimpse at his watch.

“It's after noon,” he declared, and he glanced down at me. “We don't check into the room until three, either. You wanna get a drink?”

“I'd love to have a drink,” I said. “A mimosa or something along the lines of brunch like that.”

“I think I spotted a place not too far from the hotel...” He gave me another kiss, and then we climbed into the car, and we drove to the western side of Seattle, complete with a view of the Puget Sound, and as far as I knew, it was ground zero for the grunge scene. When we climbed out, the rain waned back down to a fine mist.

Alex held his hand out for me, and I locked fingers with him. I huddled closer to him, away from the cold winds. I thought about asking him as to when the Metal Allegiance guys were going to meet up again, but I shelved it once we started walking onward to this little restaurant right down the block from our hotel.

He held the door for me, and I stepped inside first. We were greeted by the aroma of things cooking in the back part of that warmly lit place, such that he led me back there. There was a table under a single suspended lamp with a big stained glass shade covered in clusters of grapes and leaves; we huddled next to the window out to the street. Down the block stood the harbor itself.

He was going to be too tipsy to drive, but I let him have his fun with the big glass of beer and me with the mimosa in the champagne flute. I watched him drink that whole glass all the way to the bottom, and that point, his eyes drooped closed and he showed me more of a smile.

“Something tells me you haven't had a drink like this in a long time,” I remarked.

“Had a few too many,” he remarked with a little snicker.

“You certainly did, but I just had one too many,” I quipped; the mimosa was doing a number on me even without a second thought.

“Oh, c'mon, Alison, they always say that,” he hit back.

“'They'?”

“Yeah, you know. 'They.' 'Them.' The ones who always say that they—they—they—they—they—they had one too many.” He stifled a hiccup and showed me a sweet little smile complete with a peek of those little buck teeth. Sweet, but there was something tempting in there, however. He had had a few too many and now he had this look in his eyes as if he wanted to do something unthinkable in the back of that restaurant. It was just us there, after all. I leaned in closer to him with my arms folded over the top of the table before me so he would stay back a bit.

“There's something on your mind right now,” I said to him in a low enough voice for him to hear over the noise of the restaurant around us; he closed his lips so he showed me a little smirk instead. “There is something on your mind right now. We're in Seattle. We've had some drinks and now we're alone under a veil of immense passion courtesy of the sky overhead. You're feeling something.” His eyes hooded a bit, but it was enough to darken them. They went from that soft dream to the realm of a handsome devil at the drop of a hat.

I leaned in closer to the side of his head so my lips were right up next to the rim of his ear, obscured by his hair. He held still; out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him closing his, especially once I nudged the hair back away from his skin.

“Let me find the skeleton key into your heart,” I whispered into his ear, and I lightly kissed him on the side of the face. His shoulders jolted a bit, and I couldn't help but lick my lips and move on back to my spot. Alex opened his eyes again and gazed on at me, good, long, and hard right into my face as if he was trying to read my mind.

He then leaned in closer to me, to which stray tendrils of his frizzy dark hair drifted down over his shoulders: a piece spread over his brow and his eye as if to hide the two of us away from the world. Where I had breathed right into his ear, he brought his face up to mine so the full tip of his nose nearly brushed up against mine.

“I think you just found it,” he whispered back to me, and he locked lips with me. We were in public and yet he moved in slowly and deeply.

“I got my camera with me... and I just got the worst, stupidest idea, too,” he continued.

“I was thinking about that, too,” I said in a near whisper, as I helped him split the bill.

We were within range of Alki Beach, and we couldn't drive back to the hotel as of yet, at least not until the alcohol lightened up in our systems anyway. At that point, the rain had stopped enough to where the clouds broke a bit, and the sun shone down over us. I could stand by the fence that separated us from the rest of the gray waters of the Puget Sound as if I was posing for a glamour magazine. I leaned against the cables on the backs of my hands, right as the sun emerged from behind the clouds.

“Oh, that's stunning!” Alex declared as he held the camera to his face and pressed the shutter button. I opened my jacket to show off my shirt to him, including the low neckline.

One hand up on the cable closest to my head. My head tilted back all the while so I resembled Debbie Harry.

For a moment, I swore he was a young buck again, especially when showed me that crooked little smile from behind his camera. It was going to be something to meet the guys that evening, especially when I knew how things flowed between the two of us.

And I wondered as to how I was going to make those scones for him, too, especially since we were going to be tipsy for quite some time, possibly for the next few hours until we could check into the room.

But it made no difference to me as I posed for him and that camera. I was having too much fun, and I wanted to give him what he couldn't have back home. And all the while, I hadn’t thought about Jerry for one second.

[childishillustrator]

Things I’ve noticed while watching coralline for the 1000th time

im gonna reboot and finish this tomorrow since i only got about halfway through the movie tonight  :)

1- the cat always responds non-verbally to what's going on in the 'real world'

2- there is a mushroom circle about the old well. mushroom circles are often associated with the fair folk, in past times, the Fae were thought to kidnap children from their homes

3- the seeds that coraline puts in the scene where it's raining outside are all amped up and used to lure her in, in the other world

4- while coraline is exploring the house there is a newly opened neck brace in her parents room

5- again while she's exploring, the only snow globe that's snowing is the one that her parents are later trapped in

6- in the room that has the tiny door, the wallpaper looks like it has a print resembling bugs/beetles

7- the way the two other parents harmonize when they say “see you soon” sounds oddly creepy(im sure it’s supposed to i just hadn't noticed it before)

8- the writing on the outside of the boxes outside of bobinsky’s door are in Russian 

9- bobinsky’s name is Bob-In-Sky, and hes also the person highest in the pink palace, as well as having a hot air ballon in the circus mice performance 

10- the pathway to the other mother’s house seems to get longer every time coralline goes through it

11- the outside in the other mother’s world looks more like a stage set than any other part of the movie

12- when coralline asks the other whybie if it hurt when the other mother took away his voice, he cuts her off and directs her towards the ballon in the sky

13- while coralline and her mom are out buying clothes they are by a store that has a sign reading “i (heart) mulch”, her mother usually drinking her coffee out of a mug reading the same thing and another mug, being seen on the drying rack in the kitchen 

14- her mother says “wont be long” and then proceeds to get kidnapped by a giant spider woman

15- there are three of those shadow side-view portraits in the background in the dining room in the other world, and they look suspiciously like the lost children

16- the curtains in the room with the little door chance to resemble beetles during the scene where the other mother gets mad at her and throws her in the mirror right after

17- there are spider webs e v e r y w h e r e .

[ccornersstone]

Thunder

Spoilers for Case 60 of the conspiracy (?) underneath the cut

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“ you see? You’re doing better!” Zoe exclaims, with a bright smile as her fingers are interlocked alongside their arms with David’s as they walk. She looks away as she feels a col droplet fall onto her neck where the collar of her vest failed to conceal her skin. The weatherman had said it was likely going to rain.

Zoe feels David slightly pulling away and he cranes his neck noticing the steady stream of droplets starting to fall and the clouds forming in the sky as it darkened. “We better get heading home,” Zoe suggested, as the droplets begin to make everything damp. “I think it’s supposed to storm anyways.” She adds as she diverts the direction she and David were walking towards their home.

As the detour continues the pace of the rain and weather began to amp up the clouds covered the sky and it was no longer sprinkling. Lighting followed by thunder, a loud booming sound in the distance, and David flinched. His eyes scan around, brows furrowing and he feels A lump form in his throat. He could’ve sworn he’d heard - “Oh, it’s just thunder,” Zoe assured, a hand to the man’s shoulder.

“We should get inside.” Zoe squeezed David’s hand to encourage him to keep walking. They continue walking despite the insistent rain and the growling of the thunder. The sound grows louder with each strike and the lump in his throat grows and making it difficult to keep deep breaths.

He wasn’t a child anymore. So, it didn’t make sense to be overreacting to such a little thing as thunder. He saw it all the time. Small children are afraid of thunder and lightning. He was one of those children but he’d grown out of it. And now here he is again. So much for kicking that.

Thunder was harmless, he knows this. It couldn’t hurt him. But it was certainly loud … loud enough and he’s seen the damages — he’d experienced those. Hell, he was just beginning to be able to be somewhat mobile again. It was exhausting and he’d almost given up because it hurt and was useless. Why was he doing this? He’d heard all the stories from war veterans and things. But even so, most of the ones he met seemed okay, outwardly so at least. That’s what he tells himself.

David shuts his eyes and opens them again and he doesn’t notice when they enter the house and Zoe’s footsteps stop as well. “David?” Her voice is soft, a hand pressing to his shoulder squeezing it. “You alright, Darling?” Her words seemingly fall on deaf ears with no response. “David?” Zoe questions again.

David turns to her, a hand on his neck scratching at it and he gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” He forced out.

“Do you need to sit down or — I told you not to force it if you weren’t feeling up to it.” Zoe’s words go silent as she quickly ushers him to sit down. That was supposed to help but things still seemed odd.

David’s attention turned to the window with the curtains parted to reveal the window the rain pounding on the window furiously. “Is it going to be like that all day?” He questions, voice barely above a scratchy whisper.

“It should clear up later on,” says Zoe her voice calm and her brows furrowed as her eyes fill with concern. “Is something wrong? Somethings bothering you and it isn’t walking.” She takes a seat beside him resting a gentle hand on his knee with all of her efforts to keep still and she offers a smile.

“What is it? You’re a bad liar. And It’s not good to keep things to yourself if it’s bothering you. We all have our secrets but don’t you think we can clear the air? I wanna help but I can’t if you don’t talk to -“Another crack of thunder interrupted Zoe’s sentences and it seems to click into place at this as David averts his gaze from the window, squeezing his eyes shut. He scoots closer to Zoe and he blinks feeling his eyes burning.

The skin underneath his eyes are damp but nothing is coming out if he’s gonna let it, he’d be damned if he was crying over thunder. One of his arms hesitantly shoots out around himself in a manner to attempt to soothe but it doesn’t help or quell the burning in his eyes or elsewhere as his throat closed up. If he wanted to say anything he was certainly unable to now. The steady pace of thumping against his chest increases and he can hear it and feel the blood pumping. He’s shaking now and he can’t stop.

“Is it the thunder?” Zoe asks her voice soft. “It’s okay, it’s okay if it is… it’s loud, I agree…but it can’t hurt you.” Her arms wrap around David and she feels the thumping as she presses him against her chest and her fingers rub circles into his back. “It’s pretty loud right now, right?” She asks placing both of her hands on David’s cheeks and pulling his face to look up at her as hot tears raced down his cheeks in heaps. “The louder it is, the farther away.” She says. “It’s raining… and thundering. But… water makes everything wet it’s wet and cool.”

David chokes back a sob, but he’s unable to pull it back down and it’s evident as each sob wracks his body harder than the last time. Zoe leans back as she pulls David even closer, his head to her chest. “Can you look at me, Darling? That’s all I need you to do. Just look at me.”

Zoe’s voice does manage to cut through everything and David looks up hesitantly, his vision blurring as he sniffles attempting to keep back the heavy flow of tears readying to surface as they well in his glassy-looking eyes. “Do you feel that? We’re inside and it’s cool. The rain can’t even get on you and it wouldn’t hurt… because it’s cool… do you know where we are now? Where are you?”

“Inside.” David croaks as another sob wracks his body and the tears spill downwards and his throat constricts once more as his shoulders heave.

“What do you see?” Zoe asks simple questions.

“You. The couch… the table.” He utters weakly in response.

“That’s good.” Zoe praises. “That’s really good, Darling. Can you take a deep breath with me? You’re breathing really hard…”

David gives a weak nod and at first, it’s just a few rapid intakes of breath as Zoe’s fingers stroke his chest gently. And then it slows, and he exhales. “you almost died, it’s alright to be scared. You have every right. It’s barely after it, that’s reason enough. You’d have reason years later.” She explains. Zoe offers a gentle smile as she goes to stroke David’s hair. “can I show you something?” she whispers.

David gives a hesitant nod and Zoe pulls away just slightly and moves to open the window above the sofa slightly. David backs away. The wind stirs outsiders and Zoe sticks her hand out the raindrops falling onto her skin, dispersing as it hits her skin and spilling into little cool streams of damp skin. “You see? It’s wet?” She reaches for David’s hand with her other and gently pulls it to the window with her own.

“I used to go out in the rain a lot when I was little, it’s fun besides the mud and thunder and lightning,” Zoe says as she watches David feel the cool droplets hit his hand. “It’s safe and cool.” She assures gently.

“I had no clue thunder was going to be an issue but I get it…” Zoe trails off as she shuts the window once David pulls his hand away seemingly in thought and she pulls him back into the position they were feeling him tense up every time a particularly loud crack of thunder strikes. Her fingers run up and down his shoulders in the back attempting to ease the tension and pressure and it seems to wash away with her touch.

“Do you think headphones would help?” She questioned. “For example, when the fireworks are going off, they work then. Would they be helpful? We don’t have to go outside.” Says Zoe. “I just want to have something to help when we expect a storm.”

“I wouldn’t hear it with them, would … I?”

“No, that is what got me thinking.”

David’s head sinks into Zoe’s chest as he takes a deeper breath, taking a moment before releasing it. “I think that would help.” He says hesitantly. “I would like that.” He admits.

“There’s.. no shame in it if it helps,” Zoe adds as her hand brushed strands of hair behind his ear. “We can stay here as long as you need. I’ll be here if you want me and if not, that’s okay too.”

David feels His chest tighten again this time but it doesn’t hurt this time, he can breathe. He’s unsure what to say, at a loss. All of this is just because he got scared and she isn’t judging.

Maybe the therapist wasn’t exaggerating when the topic of PTSD was brought up. Post-traumatic stress disorder as it was deemed medically. It wasn’t something just military personnel and people developed and certainly, he still needed time to adjust and learn that.

But a plan and understanding were more than a start. David was more than happy just to stay here until the storm cleared or… longer.

[pandorafallz]

Grace Augustine's life had only really been between the RDA Studies of Pandoran plants and teaching the Omatikaya children about Sky people and her culture to open up their negotiations. That had been a life she was balancing and despite butting heads with the RDA a few times, things are swiftly thrown into chaos after her avatar was killed in the shooting of her school.

Her soul didn't quite return to her human body afterward, leading to confused scientists, but the Omatikaya believed she had died and passed through the eye of Eywa, which made it more harder to convince them, especially Mo'at who had been present at the death of Grace's Avatar, that she survived. Her new Avatar's new, younger face and form don't help either to convince anyone.

-

REPOST | This is reposted and rewritten from A Breath Between/Adapt or Die. I wasn't happy with the original and given the lack of responses, I figured I could do a re-do and make it better. I got too into it too quickly and it wasn't as good as I had hoped.

So I deleted and now, I'm reposting :) Updates will be slower, so not daily but i have a better idea of where I am going.

Chapter 1 Snippet

Grace gasped, her mind suddenly putting together the sounds of AMP suits before the rain of metal began to splinter through the wooden walls.

“Out! OUT!”  She dove forwards, catching Neytiri before she could go to her sister, grabbing Tsu’tey by the arm as he too made a dive at her. “<No, help me get the children out!>”

“<She’s hurt—>“

“<She’s dead. You’re not.>” Grace didn’t allow either of them to argue, tossing Nekwan into Tsu’ety’s arms and caving after a heartbeat as the children screamed as more wood shattered around them, he grabbed Marali and dove from the building’s window and out.

Anuk was on the floor, gone too but Grace couldn’t bare the dead much thought as she pulled the remaining children with her, trying to aid in their escape. Some jumped willingly out with a few scrapes but Grace only counted two dead. Too many.

“<NO!>” Neytiri fought but Grace hissed out, forcing her out the window with a push despite the girl’s enraged sounds that masked her grief and terror but Grace wasn’t an idiot to let her try; not when there was so much gun fire without mercy. She would not lose another bright soul to whatever bullshit was happening.

Not on her watch.

[crappymixtape]

oh, c'mon babe • ( teaser )

TEASER -> for @wroteclassicaly // from my 500 follower mixtape requests! ( steve x reader, smut, friends -> lovers )

Come on, come on, come on. Now touch me, babe. What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said?

Scratchy, electric riffs buzzed through the thick, summer air. Catching on the too-hot breeze that blew in through Steve’s open window. Carrying like they always did out your open garage door and tangling up with your voice as it wrapped around each note.

Steve thought Jim Morrison didn’t have shit on you.

Swinging a leg out over the window ledge he leaned back against the wood frame and let the sound wash over him. Plucked guitar strings, static rubbing against the lyrics, the crickets chirping off in the trees and the constant hum of his pool filter.

A sliver of warm light fell out onto the street from the fringe lamp he knew was sitting next to your amp on the floor. He could picture your fingers pressing and sliding up and down the fret board. Cherry red guitar held tight against your body. Messy, strawberry curls falling loose from the tie you’d twisted them up into.

A car sped past and cut through the beam of gold, making it flicker against the pavement, and Steve felt the tiny embers in his chest catch fire as you reached the chorus.

Now, I’m going to love you ‘til the heavens stop the rain. I'm going to love you ‘til the stars fall from the sky, for you and I.

crappymixtape™ • stranger things masterlist