#and the size and feel of it made it feel more 90s as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katyswrites · 2 months

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put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace.

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here.

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words?

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid.

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say.

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never -

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you.

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips.

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods.

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting. You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 1 month

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smutty hcs for early 90s!James ?? pretty please

A/n: I suck at hcs so I apologize, I also may have a thing or two against early 90's James and it might be really obvious and I maybe didn't realise until I started writing this so if that's your favourite era I'm sorry :'3

Warnings: Smut hcs, read at your own discretion <3

I feel like early 90’s James would take his anger out on you

Like if he’s having a bad day you aren’t walking properly for the next few days

I also feel like he’d just be really mean

“Just fucking take it!”

Spanking, definitely

Choking as well

He wouldn’t do anything he knew you were uncomfortable with but he wouldn’t hold back either

Spitting in your mouth and going harder when you cry

I feel like he wouldn’t be the best at aftercare

It’s not that he wouldn’t give you any aftercare, it would just be things that would help him as well

Like he’d clean you up a bit but only because you’re sleeping in the same bed and he doesn’t want to sleep next to someone sticky and stuff

Around ‘95 is where the turn is

The aftercare would definitely get better

He start just worshipping your body afterwards and making sure you feel good

He’d still be really mean to you but would always make sure you knew he didn’t mean anything he said during the act

Size kink

He would ADORE how small you are compared to him

He’d put his hand over your stomach where his dick hit, leaving an imprint

He loves making you feel small in just every way possible

So, he’d take his bad days out on you but he’d also make you feel better when you were having bad days

Depending on what you wanted he’d be perfect

Want him to fuck you into next week? Don’t even worry about it <3

Just want someone to make you feel special? He’s kissing all over your body and telling you how much he loves you <3

Late 90’s is when the daddy kink comes in

Don’t ask why then but that’s when

It wasn’t a big shock to you but seeing how turned on it made him when you called him daddy was so hot

“Needy, are we? Beg for me, beg for daddy’s cock”

Feel like he’d pat your face with his dick?

“So pretty, all covered in daddy’s cum like that”

He wouldn’t stop degrading you but I think there’d be more of a praise kink as well depending on the day

This is also the point where he wouldn’t just help you if you were having a bad day he’s letting you take full control <3

“Riding daddy so fucking good”

FACE SITTING

He’d hold your thighs down while you squirm on top of him

Thigh riding too but only if you’ve been bad

Don’t get me started on making you get off on his boot

Supreme aftercare

He’s got rose petal bubble bath, scented candles, he’s getting your chocolates

Where did everything come from? You don’t know, but it’s there now

Cock warming is his favourite if he’s got work to do

He wants to make his baby feel good but he can’t stop so why not knock out two birds with one stone <3

That’s all I can think of right now but if you have any other’s don’t be afraid to share o>o

#metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica fanfiction #metallica #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield

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peachyiie-0 · 11 months

Text

Sanemi Nsfw Headcanons

Minors don’t interact 🚨

Warning: smut

• so to start off, let’s start off with the basics. His size.

• This man definitely has a big size, he also definitely has a few veins along the sides. But he’s definitely confident about it.

•This man was way more clueless then he thought he would be, He definitely had a lot to unpack before he got it right.

•At first he definitely had to ask about what pleasured you because he wanted to make sure he was doing it right.

•But after the first time doing it with you, this man learned a few things.

•He made sure to pay attention to every little thing. He read you like an open book.

•this man loves hearing you whine and moan. Especially since he’s the one making you do it.

• “Damn your whining so much, I fucking love it.”

• While we’re talking about sounds, let’s talk about him. This man definitely grunts or let’s out breathy moans. Especially when he’s close.

• He also definitely curses so much. Especially when he knows how good he’s doing. Your sounds is what drives him.

you lodge your head back, as a series of moans flood out your mouth. He digs deeper into your clit, continuing the pace. “A-ahh~!” You grip onto the sheets, as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Keep going, keep making those gorgeous sounds.” He adds another finger as he deepens the pace. You then reach your climax, as juices squirt out of you you let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, don’t think I’m done with you yet. I’m just getting started.”

• Let’s talk about Oral. This man definitely is obsessed with the taste of your pussy/cock.

•He definitely can’t get over the taste. once he tasted it he can’t get enough.

• He also very much loves receiving Oral as well.

• He loves watching you as your throat deep on his cock.

•He also loves the feeling of your warm saliva all over his cock. It drives him insane.

• Let’s get into his kinks.

•He definitely has a teasing kink. This includes messing with you.

•He loves seeing your responses/ reactions.

•He also definitely has a edging kink. He loves seeing the way you beg.

• Definitely dirty talk. He knows how to do it so well your begging, especially when he mixes it with his teasing.

•Breeding kink, he definitely loves the idea of you pregnant. Just the thought gets him so exited.

• His favorite position would definitely be doggy, he loves it.

•But he also would definitely loves missionary positions. Especially since he gets the chance to show off his strength. Gosh, this man’s definitely overly cocky about it.

Y/n positioned their leg above his shoulder as they laid in a 90 degree angle. Sanemi grabbed onto their leg for support as he began pounding into them. “F-fuck..~” he grunted under his breath as he picked up the pace. “A-Ahh..!!~” they let out a series of cries as he only picked up the pace from there. He then shifted them slightly up, as he continued. Y/n was drooling out the mouth as sanemi continued to fuck there brains out.

•let’s talk about his pace.

• He loves it rough.

• He wont hesitate to absolutely go Farrell. Although if you say it’s too much or you don’t like it, he’ll slow down.

• He wants you to still feel good as he fucks you, so anything that bothers you he’ll change.

•Let’s talk about his intimacy

•He’s not very soft or anything, but when he’s getting close he becomes more loving.

•He starts whispering praises to you, words of affirmation as he kisses your body.

• Sanemi is willing to do whatever, as long as your ok with it. He loves trying new things and experimenting.

•Sanemi’s stamina is through the roof. You can bet he’ll do it for hours. I mean he is a pillar, it’s obviously a given to have so much stamina.

•Sanemi also loves seeing how much of a mess he made of you.

•he loves seeing some bruises, bite marks, ect.

•It makes him feel proud once he sees the marks you made.

•After Care is a big priority for him. Especially if he’s been rough.

•He’ll give you cuddles and kisses.

• He’ll clean you up.

•He’ll make sure he didn’t over do it and check everywhere.

•He’ll praise you and tell you how good you did.

•just the basic important stuff.

You laid close to him as he gave you soft kisses along your cheek. “Did I over do it?” He whispered, checking if you were ok. Your body was brutally sore. And you had some bruises along your leg, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. It’s too embarrassing. “N-no I’m fine.. just exhausted.” He then noticed your leg was shaking slightly as you tried to shift it. “Your sore, aren’t you.” He wasn’t asking, he already knew the truth. He could tell, I mean it wasn’t exactly unnoticeable. You nodded. He then picked you up bridal style and headed to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

-I hope you enjoyed this, it was really fun to write. I apologize if it was too short, I’m really tired😭 but anyway, make sure to get some rest, take a shower, eat, drink water, brush your teeth, and take good care of yourselves!! 💗

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer #kny #headcanon #kny headcanons #sanemi smut #smut #smutty #kny smut #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x y/n

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boxturret · 30 days

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George's 1/10th scale Mata Nui Tour

This is a follow up to my previous post about a piece of concept art that depicts the island of Mata Nui as being 1/10th size it is officially listed as in most later maps.

I must first say that I was blown away with the positive reception that post received! I did see some concern that it was now too small, but I believe that's mainly down to how absolutely MASSIVE the final size is. A 90% reduction in size by no means makes Mata Nui small.

But I know not everyone has spent as much time obsessing over the size of Mata Nui as I have, so I decided to enlist everyone's favourite Ta-Koronan George to help illustrate how large this "small" Mata Nui really is.

I scaled the image of Mata Nui so that it matches the measurements on the side, so it is roughly 35km long and 17km wide. I also made a simple height map to get the Mangai volcano the appropriate 2km high.

I started out with just some simple pegs at the locations of the villages to first illustrate the basic distances.

George here starts out at the location of the iconic beach from MNOG and the end of QFTT

The beach is actually shockingly equidistant from most of the villages, Ta-Koro is closest at 2km, Ga-Koro is second closest at 6km, but the other 4 are all between 11 and 13km from the beach!

Here's a little animation to show the size of the pins, they're by no means small.

They had to be this big to be visible at all, which just goes to show how large the island still is even at 1/10th scale.

I did several shots of George standing on the edge of the Mangai's caldera. I extracted the villages from Bionicle the Legend of Mata Nui and scaled them accordingly, placing each of them where the village should be. See if you can spot them!

From the top of Mangai its 20km to the tiny islands at the very tip of Po-Wahi.

And 13km to the end of the chain of islands in southern Le-Wahi

The view of the Mangai volcano is quite impressive from the villages too. Even at this 2km height its still around 2/3rds the height of Mt Fuji or half the height of Mt Kilimanjaro.

My heightmap could use more work, the Ihu mountain range isn't really apparent, I was mainly focused on getting the Mangai at the right height.

Here's what it would look like if Onu-Koro wasn't underground.

I hope these visuals helped to show the size of the 1/10th scale Mata Nui. I really do feel it it more in line with what we see from most media and fits well with the story.

Even with this size there's one thing to remember: Raw size isn't everything. Terrain matters a lot. Its easy enough for someone now to walk a kilometre or two over straight paved roads, but considering that Mata Nui is a lush volcanic island, half the place is covered in a jungle full of massive trees and swamps, much of it is very hilly and steep, this isn't an easy place to get around in.

I'll leave you with two things: first is an old animation I made of a zoom out from Tahu on top of the full final scale Mata Nui:

youtube

This is the most I can really do with an island that scale, blender doesn't appreciate having a view distance in the hundreds of kilometres while also rendering something human scaled.

Second is a comparison between the island I've just shown you overlaid on top of the full scale.

The whole island itself has a footprint roughly the same as the full scale Mangai volcano!

Hope you all enjoyed George's vacation photos. Good night and/or happy May :^)

Slight addendum: A while ago I made this little sketch of what a view from the top of Ihu might look like, looking at all the regions. Just wanted to include it. good night

#bionicle #hypothesis #writeup #Mata Nui #George #Youtube

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multiplicationdivision · 7 months

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Company Policy

Milo was stuck on the worst run he’d ever taken. Cargo needed in 2 days and just under that time to get there in his truck if he drove without sleeping. It would have been near torture and even if the payout was better than amazing, it wasn’t something he would’ve taken a week ago.

Milo had a trick these days.

He’d picked up a hitchhiker. A backpacking twenty something, dumb and rugged. A golden retriever of a man that was handsome in a sense, but not in any way Milo was interested in. Too sweet and trusting for him. Men didn’t last long around him like that.

Especially now.

He’d been sweaty when Milo had picked him up, his shirt wet with the hot sun and turned to mud from the dust. That’s what you ask for travelling around the middle of the southern nowhere. Barely a thing worth shit on the endless roads between truck stops and motels. Maybe a rattlesnake or two.

It had been easy to get the happy fool to wear one of his backup Tees. He kept his spare uniforms in the back, enough to last him the long trips. Gray polyester that was boringly company policy to wear no matter what. Like Milo was employed under Amazon or FedEx instead the knock off generic delivery company that was obsessed with him maintaining their nonexistent brand.

Company policy was absolute. Not the soft idea of absolute, Milo receiving consequences for not following the rules or maybe even getting fired. Nothing weak and mundane like that.

Company policy like this was some mind-bending shit. It wasn’t something that could be broken, not by Milo who’d already signed his employment contract. He was bound by it’s rules and it would be a claustrophobic feeling had he not gotten such a good contract. Great pay, great time off and an understanding boss. He could deal with the strange aspects of that contract for the benefits. Even manipulate them sometimes.

Only employees can wear their uniform. The contract states that on page 2 in full bold letters. Followed by a bunch of stipulations about assignment of uniform sizes and assorted accommodations.

The hitchhiker wore one of his shirts now. His ragged sweaty one was somewhere on the floor, balled up under the passenger seat. The man had said it was surprisingly comfortable for a uniform. Said he’d worked as a cashier for some fast-food joint and that theirs were scratchy. He’d said he was surprised Milo’s shirt fit him so well.

Company policy demands that only the employee who owns the uniform wears the uniform. Milo wondered if the hitchhiker noticed how baggy the shirt was on him minutes ago. How it sagged around his shoulders, the man smaller than him by far. Now it fit perfectly, tight against his skin.

Milo asks if the man knows about his favorite TV show. Some niche drama going back to the 90s, echoing the same plots over and over and over. The hitchhiker squints his darkening eyebrows, recognition blooming in real time. The man just remembering something he’d surely never watched.

He’d been clean shaven, but now the guy’s face was covered in a shadow that Milo recognized. He’d discuss his travels as he gazed outside. Not noticing the moment when the tales of a hitchhiker faded into recollections of hauls gone hilariously wrong.

Milo watched the changes out the corner of his eye, relaxing as the awkward conversation became easy. Their language becoming more and more alike by the second, the nervous dog of a man becoming loud like Milo. Discussing their nearly identical plan of scaling the Devil’s Tower and free climbing whatever parts of the Grand Canyon they could get to. Bragging about how little they needed to workout with so much time to spend climbing.

The other made sounds of discomfort every now and then. Milo wondered if it hurt to have a life scooped out and filled in again. It was likely just disorienting, the hitchhiker seeming to try to recount his college years only to remember that he’d been a cross country trucker for the last six years. He’d laughed about how nice it was that truckers could rely on each other when they needed help. Milo joked that it was hard not to pick him up when he was so handsome. They laughed because they looked remarkably similar.

At some point, Milo realized that he had ended up in the passenger seat. As if he’d slowly bled into existence without the awareness to realize it. Feeling a slight desynchrony from the still sweaty cargo shorts and trainers he’d been left with. The other Milo laughed at him when he complained. They both knew he had brought an extra pair of sneakers for this exact situation.

They were mirror images now, matching short beards and curly hair. A situation they were both used to by now. Three times policy had assured that the person wearing his uniform was Milo, no matter how it broke the rules of reality to do so. They were short staffed so his boss had told him to keep it coming.

Milo would always have a buddy for the road, someone to trade shifts with as the other slept. Another Milo keeping him company in every state, at every stop. It only cost a few nobodies and a shirt or pants.

It was a good trick.

#identical #copy #shapeshift #clones #male shapeshift #clothing tf #personality change #male tf #male transformation #my writing

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good-to-drive · 2 months

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Rating Beatle Caricatures from The Simpsons (Non-Exhaustive)

7/10. Pretty much exactly what you'd imagine "Simpsons-style Beatles" to look like. Paul's sultry-yet-superior eyes are simple and effective. John and George are recognizable but unremarkable, though John's Roman nose has translated well. Ringo's puppy dog eyes are perfect and his nose is only mildly offensive.

11/10. Deeply offensive portrayal of the snooter but I don't care. I want a pocket sized figurine of this character to carry with me at all times because looking at this picture tells me that everything is going to be all right. The warm fuzziness of Ringo Starr has blended perfectly with the warm fuzziness of classic Simpsons and I could not be happier.

2/10. I'm not saying it isn't accurate, I'm just saying that I hate it.

9/10. I'm biased because this episode sparked my interest in vegetarianism, but they really have captured the effeminate, dreamy, fuckable look of mid 90s Paul McCartney incredibly well, right down to the eyebrows. There's a touch of their later tendency to draw celebrities in a less stylistic way than original characters, but he's still very clearly Simpsons Paul. We don't have to talk about what they did to Linda.

3/10. The glasses are doing a LOT of work here. Somehow it feels like they tried to make him more conventionally attractive, like they put their reference photo through an Instagram filter before they drew it. It's symptomatic of modern Simpsons in that it's pleasant to look at but devoid of personality or joy. Also, on a personal note, this episode led to a lot of jokes online about how John would never go to heaven, which isn't so much offensive as offensively first-thought.

0/10. Soulless.

10000000/10. I know technically this one doesn't count, but this episode and specifically this still is undeniably their best and most compelling caricature of The Beatles. Apu radiating George-esque exhaustion and disillusionment, Barney/John looking to Homer/Paul with mistrust (but he's still looking to him), and Skinner with his eyes downcast, fully withdrawn into himself, a stone in a torrential river that is finally overflowing its banks. They've deviated from the original image but in doing so have made its impact more pointed and powerful. As we look at this still we become heartbreakingly aware that The Be Sharps are over in every way that matters, and yet we know too that they are not over. That the love Homer felt for his unborn child when he wrote Baby On Board is only growing stronger every day, that the things expressed in this episode will continue to matter to us even after the characters have returned to their normal roles. The Simpsons is episodic by nature and nothing, no matter how compelling, will still exist in a week. But ephemeral things like love and hope and earnestness are no less powerful, no less the purpose of our human lives, because they come to us in brief episodes. Just because they no longer exist it doesn't mean they are no longer real. I don't know why Yoko looks like that.

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #ringo starr #george harrison #beatles #get back #the simpsons #the be sharps

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gyuhanniescarat · 1 year

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Cupcakes & Kisses

there’s no way a snow day spent indoors with your boyfriend could possibly go wrong, right? then again… most people’s significant other isn’t choi seungcheol.

pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader

genres/tropes: fluff, smut (MDNI 18+, or you will be blocked), established relationship, slice of life, idol cheol, office worker au (feat. kep1er yu jin, fromis_9 ha young, le sserafim chae won), snowed in

word count: 3.3k

warnings: love-drunk cheol, pussy-whipped cheol, DIRTY TALK (i apologize for going off so much; you wouldn’t believe me if i said i wrote this while darl+ing & crush on loop), cheol has an oral fixation, fellatio/oral (m receiving), CHEOL IN SPECS (yes, this IS VERY much a warning; i’ve had a severe cheol in specs kink/brainrot for months as a result of this weverse live), a solid 2.2k of this is just PuRe FiLtH, my mind shifted to WONU’S “tasty” meme for a hot minute (i beg, pls don’t come for me🤭), heavy use of pet names (cheol calls reader… angel, darling, my love, princess, baby girl. reader calls cheol… cheolie, babe, daddy), light daddy kink (daddy is more just used as a title here), size kink (if you squint... bc i am a proprietor of the CHEOL MONSTER COCK agenda), mentions of breeding kink (be safe, stay protected from babies and STI's when being intimate with a partner y'all), cum play/eating, kitchen sex (idk, there’s no p in v action here, but cheol does get the gawk gawk 3000 so i put it here just in case), let me know if i missed something luvvies!

suggestive/smutty prompt no.12 “I think I can make you cum before the cupcakes finish baking.”

request: yes; long overdue; written for my winter event (so sorry for the delay, my dear annonie!! I hope you come across this post)

notes: Happy Valentine’s, my luvvies!! 💋💌🌹 My first fic of 2023 is here, and it’s for none other than one of my main bias wreckers… carats and seventeen’s general leader, our daddu MR. CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 🍒 I hope 2023 has been good to you so far, and I hope regardless of whether you have a valentine or not, you can use this time of year as a reminder to share your love with those who are most important to you.

a/n 2: thank you for the likes, but feedback and reblogs are always greatly appreciated (especially on my lengthier pieces) 💖

Waking up alone, to the feeling of ice-cold, empty bed sheets, this moment in time was undoubtedly the furthest from how you envisioned the day would go. But, you’re really in no mood to complain about that. Finding Seungcheol’s side of the bed unmade and devoid of his warmth is a relatively regular occurrence in the morning, as it’s not all that uncommon for him to fall asleep in his studio, or come home from practices, recordings, and schedules after you’ve gone off to work. But, you know for a fact that Seungcheol did come home by midnight and slept with you last night. Well… you’re 90% sure he came home. Yes, you were in a bit of a daze, but you vividly recall the dip of Seungcheol's side of the bed as two big, strong arms pulled you close, his distinct woodsy scent filling your nostrils as he snuggled up to you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. So, upon stretching your arm out and feeling nothing but the freezing, wrinkled white sheet, you are initially confused, but you just assumed he had something to attend to right away. However, you received quite the surprise when you made your way to the kitchen with the intention of making yourself breakfast.

Rolling out of your shared king bed, in your fluffy polar bear slippers and a pair of black satin sleep shorts which are covered by one of Seungcheol’s old t-shirts you stole when you first started dating… you stroll into the living room and push the curtains open. Tidying up here and there, you silently scold “yesterday’s you” for neglecting to at least clean up a bit instead of binging your favorite drama. Collecting the bit of trash left on the coffee table, you continue along toward the kitchen. Like a deer caught in headlights, you stand in place, in awe and disbelief of what’s in front of you. “C-c-cheolie?” You inquire, looking quizzingly at the presence of your boyfriend standing in the kitchen at 8 in the morning. He stands there at the kitchen counter with his jet-black hair perfectly fluffy and styled to perfection. Just a strand or two has strayed away from its place and is softly draping over one of his eyebrows. He is wearing his silver-rimmed, round-frame glasses with his famous balenciaga t-shirt and medium wash jeans, that only cheol can manage to make look fashionable. A cozy, college boyfriend, domestic Seungcheol with his specs on is a rare sight. So you find yourself silently appreciating this cheol, and thanking whatever forces have blessed you with this view.

“Mhmm. Mornin’, my angel. Did you sleep well, darling?” Cheol grins, taking you into his embrace and pressing soft, light kisses to the side of your neck. You melt right into his arms and bury your face into his well-defined, pillowy chest. “Mhm-hmm. I always have the best sleep of my life whenever you’re laying next to me, and cuddling with me, cheol.” You giggle, shivering from the chill in the air and the spine-tingling sensation of Seungcheol’s kisses. “Oh, I know, baby girl. You were clinging onto me last night as if I would disappear.” He chuckles, shifting to kiss you on the forehead. “I- I just want to absorb and cherish every chance I get to be in your arms, cheolie. I l-like it when you h-h-hold me close.” You shyly reply. “Anyways. You’re usually out of the house around this time. What are you doing here? Do you have the day off, babe?” You ask, switching subjects by sweetly laughing and looking up at your boyfriend in pure adoration.

“Ahh, yeah. I suppose I do, princess. I was getting ready to head out to the company, but then our manager texted me about an hour ago saying we wouldn’t be having practice today because there’s a bone-deep chill settling in, and most of the city is blanketed in thick billows of snow. What about you, my beautiful girl? Do you have to go into the office today, darling?” Seungcheol lightheartedly laughs, looking down into your eyes and pushing a strand of your wavy shoulder-length hair behind your ear. “Oh, uh-uh… well, my boss is out of the country on a business trip. So, I don’t have to go into the office, per se. But, Yujin unnie, Hayoung unnie, Chaewon, and I were going to meet up for coffee and lunch. Though, I’m guessing plans might change if it’s gloomy outside.” You explain, words slightly muffled by the fact you’re still leaning against Seungcheol’s chest.

Just then your phone dings, indicating that you have a new text. Pulling away from cheol a bit, you retrieve your phone from the pocket of your shorts. Cheol watches as you read the message, with a hopeful expression on his face. You pout a little bit as you read over the text Yujin sent through to the group chat. “Oh. I- I guess, I don’t have anything going on today after all. The girls all agreed it’s way too cold outside to even go cafe hopping.” You mutter, feeling a bit mopey about the news. A mischievous smirk spreads across Seungcheol’s face at the sudden revelation. Cheol wraps his arms around your waist again and sways you side to side. “How unfortunate, my love. Shall we have a stay-at-home winter date then, princess? Hot cocoa-” The man proposes, quickly getting cut off by you. “With mini marshmallows?” You cutely bargain.

He laughs as he pinches your adorably chubby cheeks. “With all the mini marshmallows you want, angel. And of course, whip cream, valentine’s sprinkles, and as a treat, some chocolate-covered strawberries on the side. I’m not some holiday monster, darling.” Seungcheol coos, pulling you closer, despite already being pressed up against you. “Of course, you’re not. You’re my Cheolie. You can’t be a holiday monster when you’re the sweetest boyfriend ever. Yes, yes, yes!!! I love the idea of all of that, babe. Oh, and c-can we?” You shyly ponder, cheeks flushing redder than a red panda. “What is it, baby girl? You can tell me,” he asks, trying not to coo at how adorable you look when you get flustered. “Can we bake some cupcakes? I-I wanna take some to give your mom the next time we go to visit her.” You ask. “You- Y-y-you want to give my mom some cupcakes when we visit her this weekend? Oh, princess. How could I say no to that? Of course, we can. God, I love how warm you are to my mum, as if she were your own. Well, I guess she kinda is your mum now since I intend to make you my Mrs. Choi.

The cupcake-making process was relatively easy one could say. Well, truthfully, it was about as easy as it possibly can be when you have a love-drunk, pussy-whipped simp named Choi Seungcheol in the kitchen. Every time you scooped some batter into the liners of the cupcake tin, you were met with a passionate, lingering kiss from your cheolie. Hell, at one point in the process, he even scooped up some of the batter on his middle and ring fingers, and held his fingers near your mouth, silently encouraging you to take his fingers in, wrap your lips around the digits, and lick the chocolate off. His eyes gloss over with lust, adoration, and love as you make eye contact while having his two fingers deep inside your mouth. “How is it, princess? Good? Is the batter tasty?” Seungcheol questions, biting his lip in an attempt to will his hardening arousal from growing bigger.

Awakening the little shit, teasing, scheming vixen within, you choose to take the course of riling Seungcheol up. “You tell me, cheolie. I think it tastes pretty good, but I could think of some tastier things around us. Can you?” You seductively purr, doe eyes and long lashes batting innocently. He scoffs in disappointment, but not surprised by the attitude shift from you. “Really? You’re gonna play it that way, princess. Do you really wanna go there? Because daddy can play just as hard, baby girl.” Seungcheol growls huskily, unleashing his daegu satoori in response.

Ever the mischievous, bratty sub you are, you don’t simply give in like that. Seungcheol may be everything you could’ve asked for and more… yes, he is the only man you’ll ever want to be intimate with. But that doesn’t mean he can just get it for free. Even the sexiest of men gotta work for it, right? Mustering the biggest puppy dog eyes you can pull off, you tilt your head to the side, clasp your hands together, and work it, “Come on. Oh. Daddy wants to play, huh? Well, guess what, daddy? Two can play that game.” You smile innocently and giggle, before kissing cheol on the cheek. After which, you take the first pan of cupcakes and stick them in the oven to bake. “Oh ho ho. I’m not letting you get away with that, princess. In the end, daddy’s gonna be the one laughing. On. Your. Knees. Now.” He warns.

“Oh, f-fuck. Yes, that’s it. You’re doing so good sucking on my cock like that. You’re daddy’s little cockslut, yeah?” Cheol groans, gripping your hair tightly into a makeshift ponytail. His head is tipped back and resting against the cabinet door behind him. You briefly pull off his length, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip. “Mhm-hmm. Yes, daddy. I’m forever daddy’s personal cockslut. Am I making you feel good, daddy? You curse so much and pull on my hair so hard every time your big, juicy cock bulges in my throat. Oh, does that turn you on, daddy? You’re already gushing so much and I’ve hardly done anything. Does the sight of my tiny mouth struggling on your thick member get you harder?” You suggestively moan out, jerking the man off, thumb and index finger not even touching while holding his dick.

You mischievously smirk up at Seungcheol’s reaction, taking his balls in between your lips and sucking on them, before eventually taking his cock back into your mouth. “D-did you j-just?? Oh my god! Did you just suck on my balls, princess?!” He loudly groans, accidentally hitting the top of his head on the cabinet handle. You pull away for breath again and giggle at the flustered and shaken state of your boyfriend. “Hehe. Yep. Did you like that? Did it feel good when I gave your balls some attention, daddy? They’re so heavy. Fuck, you’re holding so much cum for me, aren’t you daddy? I can’t wait to feel all your cum flooding inside my tight little cunt. You’ll fill my little pussy with all your cum, right, daddy? You’re gonna breed me and make me a mommy, yeah?” You lowly whisper, jerking his erection even more.

“Nghh. That was so fucking hot, angel. For a second, it felt like I went to another dimension. It felt damn good, princess. Shit, shit, shittt! You’re making daddy feel so damn good. Keep going just like that, and I’ll be unloading my cum down your little throat. Oh, baby girl, when I’m done with you, there’s no way you won’t be bred and knocked up with my babies. I’mma make damn sure you become the momma of my babies, princess.” He runs on, as his grip on your hair tightens even more.

“Oh, fucking fuck…. How did I ever manage to snatch up a beauty queen like you? Everything about you turns me on, angel. Your pretty eyes, the way you look at me so innocently even though I corrupted you a long time ago. Your cute hairstyles and how every one just accentuates your gorgeous face even more. Your soft, pink, plump lips that pout at me whenever you’re mad or want something. Or how your lips get so swollen every time we kiss or make out for a bit too long,” Your eyes glaze over further with lust and desire for Seungcheol. Moaning around his length, one of your hands can’t help but slip down toward your core and start rubbing circles on your clit. Fucking hell, Choi Seungcheol and his masters in dirty talk.

“And the way you struggle on my cock, yet take it like a champ. Your cute little hands and how tiny they look in mine. Of course, I can’t forget about your beautiful tits and how I can easily hold them in my hands. Oh, and the way your perky little nipples harden just from a little clit play. Or the way your breath hitches just slightly when I take them in my mouth to suck and bite on them. Oh, I can’t forget about your tiny, tight, soaking cunt. The way your little cunt stretches just to take my cock deep inside your walls, the way it tightens around me with every thrust. The way the stretch of my cock inside your cunt makes your stomach bulge every time I fuck you so good that my length kisses your cervix. And then there’s the way you so enthusiastically take everything I have to give you, even begging me to breed you like you’re nothing more than my little cumdump. ‘M close, princess. I wanna paint your pretty tits and cute little face in my cum. Can I, angel? Can I cover you in my cum?” Cheol pants, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. Quickly pulling off from his big, thick, throbbing dick with a pop, you press a quick kiss to the tip.

“Mhmm. It’s so fucking sexy when you talk like that. Oh god, I’m fucking soaking my panties now, daddy. I love how you get so love-drunk and pussy-whipped for me every time I suck you off, cheolie. Oh yeah? You wanna cover my face and tits in ropes of your cum, huh? Go ahead. You know you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours, only yours. You don’t have to ask, daddy. Just wanna make you feel good, wanna be a good good girl for my daddy. Wanna be daddy’s little princess. Wanna do everything my daddy wants. Come for me, all over me, daddy. Don’t care if it’s messy, just want daddy’s cum. Paint me in endless ropes of your warm, thick cum. Let it go, babe. Come for me, please? I need your cum all over me, daddy. Paint me in your cum, and then fuck it into my little cunt, daddy.” You seductively moan, fucked out just from giving your man what is probably one of the blowjobs of his life.

“Oh god. Yes, yes, yes! Fuckkk. I’m coming. Oh shit, nghh. So good, princess. So so fucking good for me. Fucking hell. Oh fuck, it’s a lot of cum, darling. Oh god. Oh my god, yes. I’m coming- I’m fucking coming. Get ready for my load, baby girl. Daddy has a big load coming for you. You took such good care of daddy, and now, daddy’s gonna reward you with all his cum.” Seungcheol deeply groans, hands winding even tighter in your hair, despite already being inhumanely strong. When Seungcheol finally comes to his long-awaited climax, he takes one hand from your hair and grabs onto your chin, forcing you to look right into his brown eyes as he unloads every last drop of his cum on almost every region of your body. After he comes down from the haze of his high and gains some semblance of post-nut clarity, he immediately loosens the grip he has on your hair. Cheol brings his middle and ring fingers toward your chest, scooping some of his cum from the valley of your breasts, and brings his cum soaked fingers up to your lips.

You once again, welcome the presence of his fingers in your mouth. You close your lips around the two digits, this time instead of cupcake batter, you are sucking the remnants of his sweet and salty cum off his fingers. “Baby girl, are you really trying to make me pop another boner, right now? Because if you keep giving me bambi-eyes and batt your pretty little lashes at me one more time, I’m not gonna hesitate to take you back to bed and make good on my promise to you one sexy ass expecting momma.” Seungcheol huskily warns. “What if I want that, cheolie? What if I wanna be bred by daddy, like the little naughty cumslut I am? Hmm?” You laugh, sticking your tongue out to show that you swallowed the cum he fed you.

“Oh, just you wait and see. I’m gonna breed my baby real good. You’re in for it, princess. I’m not stopping till at least one of my loads takes and fertilizes in your womb. How is it, princess?” Cheol chuckles, watching closely as you lick your lips. “Mhmm. Oh shit. Mhmm… yes, daddy. So much cum… so so good. It’s so tasty, cheolie. You’re the tastiest, daddy. But, why waste your perfect cum when we could put it to better use pumping my tight cunt full of cum so much that I definitely end up getting pregnant with your babies.” You whisper, winking at the man standing in front of you. Seungcheol pulls you up, grabs a towel, and goes over to the sink to wet it. A few seconds later, he comes back over to you and helps clean you up a bit. Once he’s done, he throws it in the laundry pile along with your pajamas as well as his pants and boxer briefs. He washes his hands at the sink, then walks back over to you, pulling you in by the waist for a kiss. He can taste himself mixed with your cherry vanilla lip balm, but cheol is used to that by now. “C-c-cheolie!! What are you doing?” You squeal, swatting at his chest.

“Relax, angel. I’m going to stick the second batch of cupcakes in the oven now, but I wanted a kiss first. Why are you so flustered by me kissing you, princess? You weren’t so shy a minute ago when you were sucking the soul out of me thru my cock. Besides, is it now a crime to want to kiss my girlfriend?” Seungcheol remarks, once again cooing at how your adorableness levels increase whenever you get flustered. He sees how you pout in response to his coos, and chuckles before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezing your hip with his free hand. You watch in silence at the humorous, yet somehow ultra-domestic sight of your half-naked boyfriend placing the baking tray of cupcakes in the oven like everything is completely normal.

A few minutes later, Cheol closes the oven door and sets the timer for the cupcakes on his phone. Seungcheol then turns to face you and opens his arms waiting for you to come into his embrace. Like a giddy school girl whose boyfriend is waiting for her in the car park, you jump into Seungcheol’s arms and kiss all over his face. He holds you tight in his arms, inhaling your sweet scent. Like a starved vampire, he begins sucking harder on the already forming hickeys along your neck. The two of you simply enjoy the peace, reveling in the silence, while being in each other’s presence for a little bit.

Seungcheol places you back down on the kitchen floor and stares deeply into your eyes, smiling cutely at you. The two of you maintain the comforting silence and deep eye contact for just a few more minutes before Seungcheol is breaking it with an unexpected question. You nearly choke on your own saliva as your eyes bulge out in shock at his question.

“The timer is set for 25 minutes. Okay, your turn now, princess. That should be just enough time for what I have planned. I think I can make you cum before the cupcakes finish baking. I’mma make good on my plans to return the favor. So, what’d ya say, darling? Shall we go ahead and put my skills up to the ultimate test, baby girl?”

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holyratrimony · 1 year

Text

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything?

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this, dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself. “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,” A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. “Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager. Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #rdr2

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happysparklingshadows · 11 months

Text

A Certain Hunger (1/?)

Chapter 1 ✿ Chapter 2

Summary: The people-pleasing Valedictorian, a part of too many clubs, becomes closer to her school's soccer team at the end of her senior year. (Y/n) was always seen as the fat mousy girl in school that was always too kind, and with a mother at home needing to be taken care of, didn't go out much and never had the time to do normal kid things like parties. Her pursuit of having some fun before graduation starts with a party fight. It ends with her in a crashing plane, surrounded only by the girls that seem to always worry about her.

Warnings: 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Alcohol/drug use at a party, Femme WLW! Reader, Plus sized! Reader, Body-shaming (I promise it will not be done often) and perspective of an overweight girl, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother, General yellowjackets warnings, Possessive/Obsessive behaviors, Dark! Au (however, will be down the line when things get worse for the yellowjackets), All characters are 18 years of age, 18+ story. Um, also some teenage girls and peer-pressuring someone to go to a party if you wanna count that.

Pairing: Surviving! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Taglist: @star-girl69 @g1rlsriot @zhivaxo

Word count: 14.5k (Get a snack, drink, and settle in; you're in for a long night.)

Note: Hello! I have been such a massive fan of this show for almost two years, and I have been thinking about this concept for a long time. My idea was if someone was overweight before the crash, how would they be fair in this fight for survival, and what would happen if all the girls started falling for them over time. I have always had a guilty pleasure for Dark! Au or yandereish stories. I was inspired by @oh-so-vulgar’s "No Return" story. I can't recommend more for people to read! Hopefully, this will be a long fic, and I will be writing this as well as an Ellie Williams x reader story. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment and give me your thoughts! If you are interested, I added some visual ideas for the story and the looks for some outfits at the end!

Sometimes, things have been seen and heard without being lived. Most of the time, people think or talk about different ways they would be in a crisis. Ideas of surviving are separate from surviving.

You know that. You were one of the unlucky few to really understand what it meant to survive at all costs.

Things that should have been hidden behind the trees, in the valley of mountains, with voices silenced long before man's first breath came to them to set it free.

Surviving was the easy part for you; the living was the hard part.

Blood to be split, fat to be rendered, and meat to be cut. The smell of metal and tears were familiar and comforting to you. Sometimes, walking down the aisle of the butcher, trying not to see the meat on display, the smell crept into your nose, and you felt at home.

A home made up of girls and the wilderness's protection, with care and tenderness for them but bitterness and fear when near them. It was your home for so long, pings of the tragic circumstances consume and convets like witches dancing around a fire.

You remember what happened to you. You remember how you ended up in the Canadian forest and stayed prisoner on those grounds for 19 months… 19 months without a choice. The only option was survival. To adopt and accept, even fawn, the wild.

The memories plague the team, and you know that. You know that they still remember and know you as you approach your 43rd birthday. They think about you. And sometimes, you see them around Wiskayok and always find them watching you first. Sometimes you see them as they are, adult women with their own lives, or as teens before the darkness set in for all of you. But sometimes, when you catch their eyes, their darkness stares right back into yours…

And you feel at home.

April 1996

The Yellowjackets passed the ball to defense by the teams’ midfield attacker, Allie Jacobs #11, before it was sent to the central midfielder, getting caught by the opposing team. Taissa Turner #8 then passed and kicked the ball…

Your hands write quickly on the pocket notebook on your lap in the crowd of screaming parents and students. Feverishly trying to remember the series of events, trying to remember if Allie dodged 2 or 3 players and if she passed the ball to Taissa before coming to center field of in the defenses field.

"WHOO!! GO, YELLOWJACKETS!" Your eyes pop up when everyone screams louder, only to find that you missed the last goal from your writing, seeing the team hugging and happily cheering, "We're going to nationals!"

"Holy shit!" You whisper to yourself as you stand up, clap frantically, and yell your celebrations for your friends. They are going to Nationals!

A smile crept on your face as you looked at the team; you quickly grabbed the camera next to you and snapped photos of the team celebrating, feeling excitement for them and happiness. As the camera flash wears out, solidifying the moment of pride and unknown tragedy about to fall upon the team, you quickly leave the bleachers and go into the shower room to do the well-loved routine post-game interviews with the girls.

"Fuck yeah, you guys!" You yell into the locker room as the door slams behind you, walking into the room with the heavy camera hanging from your neck and notes tightly held in your hand. The girls turn from their laughter and celebration together to beam at me. "You guys fucking did it!"

Van laughed loudly as her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to the group. Lottie and Taissa were talking and stopped, letting you join it. Shauna and Jackie whisper at the end of the lockers, but Shauna waves at you, and you send her one back with a grin. It’s a little odd not being in their huddle and whispering with them, but things changed a lot in the last few years.

"How did we do?" Tai immediately asked you, her smile evident as she opened her locker. Lottie scoffed and rolled her eyes at Taissa. Van's arm was still resting on the curve of your back; her arm seemed to tighten around you for a second before letting go.

"We fucking did amazing; that is how we did, Tai!" Lottie said as she looked at you, her green eyes scanning yours face quickly before looking into your eyes. You felt a pressure around Lottie, like she had seen right through you and knew all of your dirty secrets; you looked at your shoes before looking back.

"I completely missed the ending. I was too distracted writing about Allie passing the ball to you." You say to Taissa, her eye shine when you two make eye contact, but a flinch in her lower lip shows her disappointment that you missed the game's ending.

"Oh, well, Allie lost the ball. I caught it, then I passed it to Jackie. I hit it too hard, so it went high. I thought I lost the game, but Jackie hit the ball with her head into the Goalie." Taissa explained as she grabbed her clothes in her hands; she looked at you as the other two did the same, waiting for you to tell them how they did.

You smile brightly and fake how impressed you are, playing it up for the girls, as you say with excitement. "Holy shit, I can't wait to write it! It was such a fucking epic game. I guess you guys are going to Seattle! I am so fucking excited for you guys!"

"Well, aren't you coming?" Lottie cut through. She looked at you with a furrowed brow of confusion. Her arms cross her chest as she looks to the ground, away from me. An annoyance in the air of her tone. "I thought you were coming to take the photos or whatever?"

You feel a wave of fear of disappointing them as you look at your hands; they nervously touch the black camera. "I-i don't know yet. Everything with my parents is so hard to do because they're so old, you know." You say, trying to keep it lighthearted.

"You never do anything fun!" Van complained as she moved away to her locker now; feeling her absence and lack of heat to your side made you feel even more like you were disappointing the girls. "All you do is work! You do homework, your pictures, and work at Handies. When do you have fun?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen you at any parties?" Jackie butts in as she and Shauna finally come to their lockers after conspiring in the corner. "Why? Do you not want to be seen with us?" She asks with a dry snort, reminding you of your place in the team's hierarchy. A welcomed outsider.

You quickly, nervously chuckle, and look at your shoes, not daring to look up. "No, it's not that, Jackie. You guys are my friends, and I would love to party with you all, but-"

"But what?" Taissa snipped shortly at me as she closed her locker. It seemed almost too aggressive for the matter at hand. Your eyes widened as she looked at you intensely like you were doing them all wrong for not hanging out with them more. You feel yourself folding under pressure. You think you are making your friends mad and can't help it. You wanted to have fun, and they should believe you, but you knew you were never to be seen outside of school and your job at the hardware store.

"It's my mom. You know, the cancer and everything has made it harder for me to get out, but she is doing better." You said as a tight smile came to your lips to try to stop yourself from speaking but failing. "We've-" You stopped yourself from saying the words that always brought tears to your eyes. Luckily, Lottie sees this and knows a little more than the others about everything, from her own prying and questioning, so she saves me by saying.

"It's okay. We understand that." She says with a kind voice, the tone she always used to reassure everyone, and looks each girl in the eye. Telling them to back off from you.

You need to fix the awkward tension, not yet realizing that you don't need to always make them happy. You feel the deep urge to be accepted by them. You wanted them to want to be friends with you more and keep being your friend as school ended, you already knew it was a fool's errand, but you couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth.

"I think I will go to Randy's party next week. I don't work, and my dad is home; it's perfect!" You smiled at the other girls, hiding the reluctance.

It was not perfect. You planned on studying for your honors English test that night and rereading the novel for the exam in May. But you didn't want to let the team down again by not going out.

You come off nervous, and you know that. You know they see the weakness in your words, but they smile all the same understanding they got you to finally say yes. Their eyes soften, and they start to smile again at me.

"What are you wearing? You need to find yourself a boyfriend." Jackie asked as she looked over to Shauna, who was quietly standing in the group without talking, Shauna's warm brown eyes already looking at you as if she hadn’t moved her eyes in a while. You feel your face warm at the question, a shot of disgust and shame running through you at the thought of picking up a guy, but you smile shyly anyways.

"I don't really know yet. I don't go to parties-"

"How about we all help you get dressed up? You come to my house with your clothes, and we all can help (Y/n) dress for the party; how do we feel, Yellowjackets?" Jackie asks, cutting me off and looking at the other girls for confirmation. You feel your hands start to get sweaty at the thought of it. You are already insecure at the idea. In childhood, you were talking to the Yellowjackets. You couldn't say no.

"O-oh!" You say as you feel your body shield yourself, faking a smile smoothly to hide your fear. "Thank you, I would love that. Shauna, could you pick me up? My dad will not drive me to a party."

Shauna smiled sweetly at me, nodding, "Yeah, but you need to get your license."

You let out a soft chuckle again as you grab your backpack. You keep trying to flee before you say something else. You give your best smile to the girls and Shauna. "Thanks. I'm trying, but It's the only test I have failed!" You joke, walking out of the locker room. "I'll see you guys at practice Monday!"

You get a series of goodbyes from the senior girls and walk past the underclassmen with a wave and smile. Marissa and Krystal wave back at you. Allie doesn't notice you as she is talking in the ear of the quiet Junior Akilah. They seemed friendly but so young when you spoke to them, even if you were a few years older.

You look to your feet as you walk out of the locker room and into the dark hallway of the sports building towards the double doors on the other end; the spring light and sunsetting beams light into the hallway. You keep walking away from the loud muffled sounds of the team laughing in the locker room.

BANG!

You're head snaps behind you quickly at the loud sound of a broom falling to the ground; you look down the darkened hallway to find the short figure of a person. You knew who it was, and you felt a shiver go down your spine as brown eyes set on your form.

Misty Quigley stood behind a wall and accidentally pushed the broom resting on the wall down. The blonde stood with her hand clenching the wall with her chin resting on her hand; she was looking down the hall you were going down. She jumped back at the sound and nervously looked back at you. She looked like she was peeking down.

"Misty! Jesus, girl, you almost gave me a heart attack!" You proclaim down the hall to the blonde. You kept your voice as friendly as it could be. Your hand comes to your chest to hold your rapidly beating heart.

Misty readjusted her wide glasses on her nose with her hand, a little quirk you noticed over time, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I-I was just coming over to-"

"Misty, It's all good! Don't worry so much!" You said with a smile, deciding to leave this place as soon as possible. The air was tense in a way that you couldn't put down, not really believing Misty but not wanting her to know that. "I'm heading out. My dad is waiting for me in the truck. Sorry, I squealed." You joked to her as you started to walk back to the doors.

She was always kind to you; out of principle, you were kind back. It didn't matter that she would talk your ear off about the teams jerseys or different cat breeds. You always gave her an ear when you were near her, and the opportunity opened by you. It always felt awkward around Misty without saying hi and being kind. You knew how people saw her and understood why they sometimes acted the way they did with her. You felt the weight of her unsettling gaze and overbearing nature when she never took your nos to her requests of hanging out without trying to pressure you into it. However, she didn't have the pull like the other girls did with you. You pitied her and felt the need to be nice to her because of how mean people have been to her unjustified. Even when it was hard to ignore her ways sometimes.

"O-oh, don't worry, you made a pretty squeal!" Misty recovered with a voice you could tell she put honey on, and you felt your skin itch at that. Why did she say it like that?

"See you Monday, Misty!" You say as you quickly open the doors to the building and rush out of there as soon as possible. Seeing your dad's car and you run over, knowing your shift at Handies, the hardware store, would start quickly.

You walk down the street with the lights guiding you home. You held your purse strap while holding your house keys in hand, not caring about the nighttime setting as you have walked home from work every night. You smoke the short cigarette before coming to the house, knowing your mother can't smell anymore, as you throw the butt to the ground. Stepping on it in your stride. You quickly come to your house, open your door, and walk inside.

Across the street, the shallow pants of a girl rustle behind the pine tree from the house right across the way. Fingers grip the tree with the knuckles turning white with pressure; intense, sharp eyes look at you. A small happy giggle emerges as your body vanishes into the suburban home. You still do not notice them after they follow you through the town and park, trailing behind and changing paths to see you get home safely. "Goodnight, (Y/n), goodnight." the voice says under their breath as she saunters from the tree back to their home. Like they did every night you worked.

The warm light of your childhood home surrounds you as you close the door behind you. You take off your shoes and coat, saying, "I'm home!"

"Good, Good. (Y/n), I've missed you today." Your mother says from the living room. You walk in and see the tv playing the new episode of Frasier, the colorful glow from the tv light consumed the living room with life. "Turns out Frasier has a lot of stations around America, and he is making the radio show national. It's ridiculous." She said with a dry chuckle at the end, her voice rasping as she looked at you. You push the hair behind your ear as you walk closer to her.

Your mother and father were in their 40s when they had you. They were convinced they would never have children, but you came as a welcomed and loved surprise to the couple. Although they weren't young to play with or chase after you, they always found ways to connect with you. Your mother was a hippie at Woodstock, always claiming she met Janis Joplin backstage, and wanted you to feel loved by her. However, like most mothers, she did have her moments of bitterness. Your father is not so much a hippie. He was a challenging and rigid man who took you out to national parks and fished with you in the summer on the ocean with the small boat he saved up for. Your father was more a man set in his ways; in how his father raised him, he was more distant and worked a lot. Although it was clear that they both loved you, it doesn't stop the fact that they hurt you intentionally or unintentionally, and you feel distant from them. It wasn't fair, and it eats at you. Your parents were good people, but life isn't fair.

In your junior year of high school, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer, and it felt like your world flipped upside down. Your father wasn't home much anymore, scared to see his wife slowly disappearing from the therapies and medicine, working every night out of "Bills need to be paid, (Y/n), what do you want from me?". You sat in the living room as your mother whispered to your father at the table, them talking about how they would tell you, not knowing you silenced the tv to hear them. As you silently cry, your heart is torn, ripping in the middle with small muscles connecting the two.

Your mother was given 8 months to live. You didn't choose to become your mother's caretaker, but you didn't feel like there was any other way to be anymore. You couldn't let your mother feel alone as she died. You knew that she must be more scared than you were. So, there you were for her as you did your homework and ran back home to make sure she took her medicine before going in for a closing shift. You didn't want her to be alone in her last few months. It felt wrong. You blamed yourself somehow. Angry and bitter at the world, you decided to hide behind a mask of being strong. You knew your parents were old, constantly reminded of the fact with their groans and cracks, and you knew it was more than average for women in their 60s with infertility issues to get cancer. You helped your mother move, dress, eat, and sleep. Nothing you could do to shake her in your mind. You comforted your mother as her hair fell out and when she said she was now ugly, you gave her a straw with her drinks even when her throat was strong enough to sip, and you never forgot to tell her you love her with every goodbye. Times of medicine burned in your mind, and the fear of her being in pain pushed you through the months. Believing she would die any day as she lost all her weight, color, and life. She lay on the hospital bed in the living room with her hands weakly lying on the pillows you placed under them. Her breaths never seemed to calm as they raddled when she slept.

As of tonight, it has been a year and three months since her diagnosis, and your mother's face has gained more color every day in the last few months. We knew she wouldn't live long, but at least it was longer.

You sat down in your father's recliner next to the hospital bed she lay in, her bed table over her fragile body with an embroidery circle in her hand. A smile comes over your face as you grab the pill organizer, pull out her nighttime pills, handing them to her as your eyes keep looking back to the tv. "I'd rather watch Friends."

"Well, that is because you are young. You don't understand the comedy yet." She said with a smirk, shaking her bold head to you. She puts the pills on the small table, her thin fingers working a red string through the white fabric. She looks down at her work with her reading glasses at the bottom of her nose, "I'm making a robin."

I look over her shoulder at the half-finished red bird. You smile. You subtly grab her glass of water on the coffee table and put the metal straw inside, handing it to her.

Your mother sighs as she puts the 9 pills in her mouth and the glass from you, sipping on the straw dramatically. She opens her mouth to you in an annoyed act. "Happy?"

"Very. How was your night?" You asked her as you got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, your dinner on the island.

"Alright, your father is working late. I made some fish tonight." She says loudly back to you. You already walking back to the living room. You sit back down on the recliner and set the dinner on your lap. "How was school?"

"It was good. The Yellowjackets won the game, and John was nice to me tonight, which is weird, but happy he was anyways." You say as you start cutting into your meal with your fork, eating politely in the chair.

"That's good that he was nice for once. I don't like that guy."

"You just don't like him because he yelled at me like one time."

"That's enough to not like someone." Your mother bluntly said with a chuckle. You chuckle back as both of your attention come back to the tv.

The following week of school, work, and clubs blended the days together. You came to school on Thursday, the night of the rush party at Randy's parents' summer house, and it was all you could think about. You dreaded it slowly because of the unfamiliar setting of a party, but you decided to have fun. "Just have fun, (Y/n)!" you repeatedly tell yourself when you want to cancel.

You were walking into the school's center, crossing to get your camera to go to practice. You were surprised to see the seniors together, you smile as you walk into the conversation, but it drops as soon as you come to the circle.

"This is what we've worked for all season." Taissa hissed, defensiveness and ambition speaking through her at Lottie and Natalie. "You really wanna take that chance?"

"Yeah," Natalie responded curtly. "'cause I'm not a fucking asshole."

"Why are you guys talking about?" Shauna asked. I look over at her, and she looks over at me; she asks me with my eyes as she walks into this conversation. I shrugged at her in our small exchange of information.

There was a pause and moment of silence that fell upon the group. No one is willing to answer the question.

Finally, Lottie spoke, her hand behind her neck. "Allie." She says awkwardly as she seems unsure what to say after confessing. Shauna looked over to her as I looked at Tai, who refused to look me in the eye.

"What about her?" Shauna asks.

"Did you black out at states?" Tai scoffs. "She totally choked-"

"She's a freshman, Tai," Natalie cuts in.

"She's a liability," Tai snapped. Her eyes scan all of you, trying to find support for her decision. "She can't screw up if she doesn't get the ball."

"You wanna freeze her out?" Shauna asks.

"At least we'd know what we're working with," Tai says.

"She kind of sucks, but…." Lottie trails off with her eyes looking over to Allie across the way, unaware of the plans for her. "I don't know."

"That's because it's bullshit," Natalie says, her voice filled with disbelief, her hands raised up.

"Oh, yeah? What's your plan, then?" Tai asks in mock interest.

Natalie drops her hands. "I don't know. Play like a fucking team and win?"

Now, both are entirely silent as they stare the other down. You feel your hands grow clammy as you think the confrontation getting to you, you hated being in the middle of these things, but you handled yourself raising a voice.

"It's worked so far."

"Everything works until it doesn't."

She looks Natalie up and down.

"And for the record, you smell… like a wino. Get your shit together."

You feel yourself grow a face of disgust for Taissa when she says that to Natalie. To you, it seemed utterly disrespectful.

"You know what? Fuck this."

"Wow. Okay," Tai says. You turn your body to Tai as you finally look her in the eye.

"That was completely uncalled for, Tai." You say with your tone coming out for meek than you were hoping. "Natalie has a right to not agree with you, and you just offend her when she doesn't back down. Seriously uncool, dude."

Taissa's eyes look hurt from your words like she had been yelled at. It's clear that your comments got her, but Lottie says to us before following after Natalie, "Doesn't feel right."

"Jackie's not gonna like it," Shauna says.

"Then we probably shouldn't tell her," Tai responded quickly as her eyes were fixed on you, scanning and watching every micro-expression on your face. You look to your feet; you didn't like the energy of all this, and Tai excluding Jackie, gave you a bad taste in your mouth.

Tai walks off suddenly, leaving you and Shauna to turn and look at each other after walking into that chaos.

As the two walked away, Shauna smiled as she walked with you to the yearbook room. She was asking once again if her college entrance letter was okay. You almost completely forget about the discussion about Allie when Shauna nervously questions if she sounded smart enough in her paper.

"Shauna, your paper was amazing. It was heartfelt but formal and mature. We went over that thing three times; we even got that movie from Blockbuster that the tutors have. You. Are. Fine." You stated with a playful tone, slightly annoyed at her nervousness but just playing it off like always.

"I know, but it is Brown!"

"Shauna, you are second to Valedictorian and got a 34 on the ACTs! You will get in. Trust the universe on this one." You reassure and smile. Putting the camera around your neck, you lock the door behind you.

"Okay, okay, I'll try."

"Good. You will get in, and if you don't, you will go to Ken State with Jackie." You say and put an arm around her shoulder as you walk to the field.

You only remember a little from that last practice day. You sat down on the benches like you always do, said hello to Misty and the Coach, and started to write a few words into your notebook for your graduation speech.

You have had difficulty putting down the words about how you felt about leaving high school. Like, what would happen to you? To your friends? It scared you, but you didn't know how to say that, and you didn't have enough nerve, to be honest with how you wanted to stay there longer somehow. Not high school, but the comfortable and carefree life that you had in high school.

You bit your lip as you tried to focus, but soon a blood-curdling scream came to the field. You look up and see Misty sprinting across the area to Allie on the ground, holding her leg. She wails loudly as she cradles the bleeding wound on her leg. You look closer and see a sharp broken bone poking out of her skin, blood sliding down the curve of her leg, landing on the grass.

Your hand comes to your mouth, and you feel yourself feel disguised. Disguised by the blood, wounded cries, and disgusted by Taissa. You know deep down that she would never intentionally hurt the freshmen girl, but she had bad intentions. You just didn't think she would go this far.

You grab your things quickly from around you as you look away from the girl. Away from the yellowjackets swarmed around Allie. You felt sick as you run away from the field and from the responsibility of this accident.

"Peanut, can you come in here?" You hear your mother call from her hospital bed in the living room. You come down the stairs with a bag full of clothes for Jackie to dress you later.

"Yes? What's up, Mom?" You say softly as you come down the stairs. You come to the living room doorway.

Your mom sat in the hospital bed with the tv turned off, her reading glasses perched low on her skinny nose. She had a paper and pen on the bedtable and a couple bills. Your eyes widen at the amount you see. It's the price of groceries. "Come in here with me for a moment. I have been meaning to talk to you."

You quiet and move to sit in the chair next to her. You felt nervous as you sat down. You didn't know why you would be in trouble, and you hadn't done anything in so long that you did understand why she would sit you down. You couldn't stop the nerves with your eyes.

Your mom chuckles as she takes her glasses off. She then looks at her hands with a long pause. "(Y/N), I have taken a lot from you. I am really sorry."

"You don't have to-"

"No, I am sorry. Truly am because this is supposed to be the time of your life, and you have been caring for me. And I can't thank you enough, baby, for caring for me." Your mother choked up in the moment of genuine reflection. She cupped her mouth as she tried to hide the quivers and how her cheek grew hot from her emotions. "I wanted to say that I signed the slip for you to go to Seattle with the bumblebees or whatever. Your dad gave me $65 to give you. I want you to get yourself-

"Mom, I can't. Who is going to take care of you?" You interrupt her, and you feel yourself get emotional. You shouldn't go, the money should be used for bills, and you should be home with your mom.

"No, you are going. I want you to have fun. You have been taking care of me nonstop since the beginning. Okay, let me take care of you, just this last time." She reassured. She pushed a baby hair off your forehead, tears in both eyes, "You have worked so hard and have been such a grown-up. I don't like it. I just want you to do something fun for once. If I was 18, I would have begged my mom to let me go to Seattle with all my little friends. It's all settled. All you have to do is give this to that coach and pack a bag."

She slides the folded paper and the money on top. She smiles as she wipes a tear that rolls down her thin cheek. "Peanut, I really want you to go on this field trip. Please, let me do this for you. Dad will take care of me. We already figured it out. It's only 4 days. Just do it for me." Your mom says again, trying to pressure you into accepting her words and killing your worries.

You nod your head with tears in your eyes. You were so happy to be given a break and to be allowed to spend so much on yourself. You feel so excited and light, but there is dread building in your stomach.

"Okay. I will. I really wanted to go."

"I know. It will be so much fun, but please stay away from those spring break guys, okay. All they are is body oil and semen." She said as she pushed another hair behind your ear this time. She doesn't know you wouldn't be talking to any man. She didn't know that her daughter wasn't right.

You chuckle and wipe a tear. You push her hand away and stand up. "Okay, I will stay clear of spring breakers." You say you feel your pager buzz in your pocket. You pull it out to see your pager flash dully with "Shauna Shipmen, 473-299-0876."

"Shit, my ride is over. I am sleeping over at Shauna's tonight-"

"Baby, have a good time at the party." Your mom said as she turned the Tv back on with the remote. She looks at you with a mischievous glance. "You think I never had a change of clothes before a party? Honey, you don't have to sleep over anywhere. Just come home when you are done. You should better get out of here before your father comes back. He will smell you out within a minute."

You laugh nervously at her. You rush to get your shoes on before she doesn't act so cool; you tie your boots quickly as you leave the house to Shauna's car. "I love you; see you later, Mom."

"See you later, Peanut."

You nervously hold the red solo cup as you hover around Van at the rush party. You couldn't hear much over the noise and music; you didn't mind as you let yourself melt into the party. You danced slightly with the girls as you sipped on the beer in the cup. You were trying to be fun.

You came to this party with Shauna and Jackie because Jackie’s constantly insisted that she needed to help you dress, and you had to admit you looked lovely. You were planning on wearing just some jeans and a top, but Jackie made you wear a thin turtle neck with a pink dress, flowers faded in the design, with tights and boots. You let Shauna do you're makeup because Jackie got to dress you. Shauna's big brown eyes stared at your face, softly brushing powders and rubbing eyeliner. You felt her breath hit your lips as she focused on your mascara, her eyes noticed your stare, and it made her pause. Jackie quickly broke the forming heating with our eyes from her, pulling out an ugly cat sweater you had hidden in your wardrobe. You hid your shaking breath by laughing and saying your dad found it for you. You only wear it to bed. "I would look like misty or something?" You joked and immediately felt bad as you all laughed, you felt terrible for bringing Misty up to laugh about her, but you wanted to hide.

When you got to the party, Jackie and Shauna left you to go into their worlds with Jeff's friends. You wandered around until You found Lottie and Van. You came to hover around your friends. They smiled at you and handed you a new solo cup of beer. You sip on it and smile at them. Lottie and Van giggle and look over at you, Van pulling you into their space with a firm hand on my shoulder.

"We're going to go to the woods, come!" Van says to you in your ear, her nose slightly nudging your skin from the closeness. You feel nervous in your stomach as your hands clam up around the plastic cup, and your face gets hot from her breath, hitting your neck softly. You follow Van with a nervous giggle, unaware of how the girls are feeling and looking at you. Lottie follows behind you, her eyes locked at the back of your head as she studies how you styled your hair. She wondered if she got closer to what the strands felt under her fingers and what it would smell like. Soap, sweat, or was it just you and your own scent.

Van stops you, and Lottie comes to your left with a huge smirk. Van pulls a joint out of her pocket as she presents it to you. Your eyes widen with a beam. "Oh?"

"Oh indeed!" Van said back with a smile; she put it in her mouth as she looked over to Lottie for a lighter. Lottie shook her head as she looked at you.

As soon as the papery filter lands on your lips, you see the figure come behind Van with an arm wrapping around her shoulder. You look up to see Taissa and feel your lips pursed without you doing anything. Taissa was so wrong for the whole Allie situation, and you felt conflicted.

"Not going to say Hi to me?" Tai asked mockingly, but you knew under it all she was insecure.

You pass the joint to Lottie as you blow the smoke. "Hi." You flatly say to Tai.

"Come on, not you too-" Tai scoffed as she stood more straight. Tai seemed insecure, and you could see how she was getting defensive.

"Tai, I am not judging you. I understand why you did it; you explained yourself well the other day. I know you didn't mean to hurt her like you did." You say as you feel the group has tension between them. Van and Lottie awkwardly look at each other to communicate their uncomfortable energy. Tai keeps her eyes trained on you as you speak your mind. "Tai, I, and We know that you would never hurt her intentionally to have her bone pop out. But it happened, and you planned to get her out of the Nationals. You need to apologize to her when we return from nationals."

"(Y/n), maybe we don't need to talk about this right now? Maybe we just party tonight and worry tomorrow?" Lottie cuts in, and you feel yourself get annoyed at that. You quiet down as the joint comes back to you.

"I said my mind." You said, sounding more confident than you were. You nervously look at Tai, who is quiet and looking to the ground. "Tai, We're friends, and I don't think I would be a good one for letting you off the hook for that. I care too much to let that go. You might have destroyed Allie's ability to play ever again because you got too ambitious."

"I know. It was an accident." Tai said, still looking at the ground. You felt her shame in herself at that moment as her lip slightly quivered as she spoke.

You take a puff of the joint and hand it to Lottie. You then step into Taissa's space and hug her quickly. "Hey! I know that. I am just saying it was just bad vibes all around. I know it was an accident." You reassure, now feeling horrible for talking about it all together.

Van takes a deep puff of the weed and makes a face as she tries to keep the smoke in her lungs. As she nods her head, you're eyes lock into her as Tai's arms wrap around your waist. Van's red eyebrow furrows briefly before Tai's hair blinds you. "Okay. I just feel like shit, you know."

"I know. I don't mean to make it worse." You say to Tai's ear. As you squeeze your friend, you know you will be the nicest to her when the others confront her. You let your eyes go to Lottie, who knew about all this; you knew that Van was probably thinking I was being hard on Tai for no reason.

You take the joint passed to you as she smokes it; Tai sniffed, putting back the tough act as she touched her nose with a finger. You felt like you couldn't look away from her now. “(Y/n) (L/n) smokes weed?” Tai asked in a snarky tone.

"Yeah, and crack, but no one has presented it yet, so." You joke with a goofy smile coming to your face against your control. The weed coming over you as you start to giggle, Van and Lottie following suit. "Oh, my god!" You gasped as you looked at the other high girls.

"What?" Lottie asked with big eyes, paranoid. Van laughs again at Lottie's face, leaning onto Taissa's shoulder.

"You guys are doing drugs before nationals!" You laugh out loud.

"Oh shit!" Van says as if she just realized it as Lottie cackles.

You felt yourself space out a bit; you looked into the woods further as Taissa started to tell the girls off for getting distracted. You let the noise muffle as you stare into the darkness of the trees, not seeing beyond 20 feet ahead of you; although the sight was unsettling, it seemed to lull you as well. Grounded you. The memories of childhood with your parents in national parks and your dad forcing you to face the darkness were a comfort. One of your favorite memories was so simple; Two years before your mother had cancer, you all went out to the Rocky Mountain Trail on vacation, You and your dad were fishing, and your mother was sitting beside you both with her feet in the water, your dad was just spitting out the worse jokes and puns he could think of, and you both tried not to laugh. You all broke when your dad when silent and simply won by farting.

You feel your lips curl to smile at the memory of your family as Lottie's hand curls into your elbow; you turn to her.

"(Y/n), I want a cigarette. You want a cigarette?" Lottie says with an airy tone, her eyes wider than average. You knew she was very high as you giggled.

"You know what?" You said as you opened your purse, pulling out the pack.

"Holy shit, you smoke cigarettes, too? What else does our Doris Day do behind closed doors." Van jokes dryly. You couldn't help but smirk as you light your cigarette.

"You're a dick, you know what," you say as you hand the cigarette to Lottie; she says a soft thank you as you pull another to your lips. "What do you think I do while I write?"

"I don't know, maybe write?" Tai says as she drinks from her solo cup.

You roll your eyes, looking at Lottie, "What do you say we lose these losers?" You joke to her with a smile.

She smokes the cigarette as her eyes scan over your face quickly. Her eyes look to your lips and sharply look up as she says, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Hey, what the fuck!" Van asks, mocking offended as the two of you walk away from them. You and Lottie hold hands and laugh. You loved the playful way Lottie walked away with you like you were running away together. Your hands are linked together as you get closer to the music and back to the party's life.

You pursed your lips as you started dancing when you felt the music. "Fuck, I love this song!" You say to Lottie as you bring the cigarette to your lips.

Lottie puts the cigarette in her mouth as she takes your hands with hers to dance together, which you do without question. It felt like the music was dancing through you, and you weren't really dancing, not caring how your body moved or how other's see you. It was fucking liberating to dance with your friend in the spring breeze, weed in your lungs, and a cigarette in your mouth.

Van and Tai come out of the woods a moment later, smiling together and their hands touching, but quickly moving away as they come to where you were. You caught them, and they didn't notice; you're happy they did. You felt something close to bitterness when you thought about how much you wanted that. You have kissed a few girls, but not one wanted to be with you; they claimed they weren't "that type of girl. I am normal." they soon pushed you away to never see the girl that made them feel something more. You just became a memory for them, and you were replaceable. You were well kept a secret.

You wanted someone. But you also wanted to be accepted. You would never admit it, but you sometimes thought about maybe just finding some nice guy and giving it a try at being "normal." Kissing boys felt flat, sexless, and odd when you spun the bottle at parties, but in those dark corners where you were pressed against a wall by a woman, it felt like fire. It was warm and bright, making you see clearly and freely, but it burned. It burns like wax, something shocking and hot, something warm and sensual, but it soaks in and scolds after a while. So, in your junior year, you decided to stay single until college because you couldn't imagine the people in your hometown finding out you were gay. You felt a hot wave of dread when you thought about it, not that you were ashamed or accepting because you knew how everyone saw gay girls. You wouldn't be able to go into the locker room anymore with your friends, you wouldn't be able to go to sleepovers, and you wouldn't be able to touch even your friends.

You feel sober quickly at the moment of overthinking. You look around and realize you forgot your solo cup of beer, so you just say to Lottie, "I'm getting a drink."

"Okay!" Lottie said with a chuckle; she took a deep drink from her solo cup.

You stumble away as you feel a sadness come over you; insecure thoughts and memories of scorned love affairs go to you now. You come to the keg in the middle of the party, and you lean over the keg to the plastic cups.

A hand lands on your hip, rubbing the skin as it gently moves to your lower back. You look to see Taissa and feel your breath get stuck in your mouth. You look up at the tall girl with a softness; you know she would never really do something so cruel, like meaning to hurt Allie like that. At least, that is what you told yourself.

"I admire your resilience, Tai. It can't be easy, knowing fucking crippled someone today," Shauna says to Taissa when she walks to the keg. You snap your head to Shauna, hoping she didn't notice how your eyes looked at Taissa's face. Shauna did notice; it was the reason for her coming up to the two of you in the first place.

"Cool. Good talk." Tai says back to her, and she moves away with an arm around your shoulders.

"Just admit it. You did it on purpose!" Shauna yelled at Taissa, pointing her finger at Tai. You looked at Shauna with wide eyes as you felt Taissa's arm hold you tighter.

"Excuse me!"

"You heard me. "

"You're wasted," Tai says to Shauna with a judgmental narrowing of her eye.

"And you're a fucking sociopath!" Shauna hissed back; you pulled away from Taissa and looked at both girls.

"Woah!" Van cut in. "Calm down."

"Yeah, let's just take a breath, Shauna; why don't we-" you try to say and keep the peace but are interrupted.

"No! Listen, you guys, we don't have to worry about the Allie problem anymore because Taissa fixed it for us." Shauna mocked, her hands up in fake surrender as she narrowed her eyes at Taissa. The two were going to fight.

"What?" You heard Laura Lee say behind you. "What is she talking about?"

"She's talking about Taissa's little plan." Natalie chimed in from the back; you lock eyes with her as you look to her to explain why Shauna is aggressive toward Taissa. She doesn't know.

"Oh, please. Since when do you give a shit anyways? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck-"

"Holy shit, Tai, Why would you say that to her!" You yell at Tai as Shauna says at the same time, "Don't talk to her that way!"

"Oh, fuck off, Shauna, I don't need you to defend me; last time I checked, you were fine with the whole "freeze her out" strategy." Natalie spat back, she held a cup, and her eyes looked more dilated than more in flames.

"Okay, seriously, what are you talking about?" Laura Lee asked the group; you felt annoyed at her prying, but you didn't say anything before the others growled, "Shut the fuck up, Laura Lee!"

"No, no, no; stop it!" Van panics when she sees the tears in Laura's eyes. You move over to the sweet girl, and you wrap an arm around her, "Hey, they didn't mean it." You say to her tearful self as you hear the fight continue.

"Someone needs to take her wasted ass home!" Tai yells to Shauna.

"You wanna say that again bitch. Say that again." Shauna growled back; you moved away from Laura Lee and got into the middle of the two girls, now trying to claw at the other, with Van.

"That's it! That is enough!" Jackie runs in; she yells at all of us, starting to fight each other. We all pause. "Yellowjackets, with me!"

Shauna and Taissa were the first to rush to Jackie, and you felt yourself being left behind with a few others that didn't get into the fight.

You put a cigarette into your mouth quickly, and lighting it, you look at Natalie, who wore a similar face of frustration. You nudge your pack to her, and she takes one with a grin.

"Thank you, pretty lady," Natalie says as she follows Jackie like everyone else, you follow behind her.

"Anytime, sexy thing." You say to her with a smirk; you bump her with your hip as you get to Jackie first.

Jackie looked confused and annoyed as she looked at all of you together in the woods again. "I don't know what the fuck that was, but I do know that it is over. We're about to go to nationals. And based on what I'm looking at right now, we might as well not even bother getting on that plane. Alright. Everybody line up."

No one moves.

"No, I am fucking serious lineup. Here is what we are going to do. I want each and every one of you to say one nice, true thing about every girl on this team."

"What is this, the fucking Girl Scout camp?" Tai whispers, and you chuckle with Van. You felt a smile come to your high face as you stand up before Laura Lee.

"I will go first." You say happily.

"Go ahead, (Y/n), take the floor. Thank you" Jackie smiled as she moved for you to stand beside her.

You stand there and smile; you take a puff of your new cigarette as you take a stand in front of the group.

"Okay, Jackie Taylor, I admire your sense of style and how much you do as the team leader you are. Although I am not on the team, I can see you work so hard at it every day."

Jackie smiles with a blush; she didn't expect you to say anything to her. She nodded her head, and she said, "(Y/n) (L/n), you seriously are the nicest girl I have ever met before. I have never met someone with so much compassion for others; I admire that. Also, you look fucking great in that dress, doesn't (Y/n) look fucking amazing?" Jackie says to you and points out the outfit. You smirk as the others come to admire your dress and done-up hair; you spin for them to see with a laugh escaping your mouth. They whistle at you jokingly and little cheers about your cute outfit.

You smile and say thank you to Jackie before she can say more. You move to Shauna, and you smile widely at her. "Shauna Shipmen, you know I love you bitch. You are crazy in a fun way, and you make things so much better by being around."

"(Y/n) (L/n), you are wicked smart. I have never met someone who could get a 100 in trigonometry with Mrs. Goldmen!" She says to you, and you giggle at her words, shaking your head. You then move down the line of awaiting girls.

"Taissa Turner, you are so smart and very assertive. I wish I could be as confident as you when you know you are right; you would be an amazing lawyer."

"I admire your fairness and how you don't judge when you do disagree. You always do what is right even when it's annoying." Tai says to you and playfully pushes your shoulder; you smirk and shake your head at her. You laugh at her call you annoying when she is supposed to be kind to you, but you didn't expect Taissa to drop the tough girl act.

"Laura Lee, there is not a single person I know that is as Faithful and kind as you. I haven't ever really heard you say anything hateful or mean, which is hard to find. You are truly so fucking Christian, and I love that for you because you have never hated anyone for their differences."

"(Y/n), you have excellent writing skills and are the only part of the newspaper I read. Your photos are outstanding like they always bring my eyes to them.

"You only say that because you know I am the one that took them." You laugh at her as she does too. She shook her head and said, "No, they are excellent!"

You shake your head and move to Van; she is already doing that cheesy smile you always seem to gravitate towards. You smile back and come a little closer to Van; no one notices how you feel the heat of her body in that innocent way you stand to her.

"Vanessa Palmer, I wish I was as funny as you. Sometimes I don't think anything I say sounds funny, and every word out of your mouth is fucking funny. You are the one person I come to to get me smiling again when I am sad."

Van's cheesy face falls to a softer one that melts her heart. She nodded and said, "(Y/n), there is no other person I know that is funnier than you. Don't you remember when you told us about catching Scott Lulson jacking it with ketchup in the yearbook room? I snorted out my milk!" She remained as she laughed. You follow her before being pushed away by Jackie to talk to Van. You move to Natalie, she is already smirking at you, and you do the same.

Natalie was one of those friends you flirted with and touched sometimes; however, it was never pushed more than just the daring "drunk" kiss at Spin the Bottle once last year.

"Natalie Scatorccio, I love how authentic you are and how you don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks. You're a fucking badass, and you know it. Nobody can fuck with you." You say as you puff the end of the cigarette, throwing it to the floor and stepping on it. Natalie smirked at you with her eyes seemingly blown out.

"(Y/n)," Natalie whispered to you and stepped closer, "you know how beautiful you are to me."

"I do."

"You do?" She asked in a condescending reassuring voice; she was teasing me. I laugh and put my hand on her upper arm; I look at her face and say, "You are so wasted, Nat! How do I know what you're saying is true, huh?"

"You saying my love for you isn't pure?" Natalie laughed; she looked at your face with a raised eyebrow. But before you can speak, she cuts you off by saying, "Cuz it's not pure. Never been pure with you." she whispers at the end, with a bit to her lower lip.

You burst out laughing as you feel your face get hot. You push her for shoulder playfully, feel like she is flirting with you a little too well, and feel the energy coming off of you and her at that moment. You move away to Lottie when Taissa moves to talk to Natalie; you send her a kiss as you move away. You and Natalie laugh at each other I that moment.

"Lottie Matthews, you are so kind and understanding. I know you always have my back when I need to cry and have always been so supportive." You say to Lottie and lean on her shoulder, tired from the party. She sighs and looks down at you with a smile.

"(Y/n), You are really responsible. I think you work hard at everything and take so much responsibility for so much in your life. You kick ass." Lottie giggled at you as she hugged you back. She whispers into your ear, "You wanna ditch this place and go home after we're done with this Kumbaya bullshit? I'll give you a ride."

"I would suck your dick if you had one." You reply quickly to her in a whisper, and you both giggle intoxicatedly together.

You sat in the passager seat of your father's truck. Your father was a quiet, kind, funny man but never one to start a conversation, and his knuckles were worn from years of work.

You don't even try to notice how his veins pop from his skin or how his hands look his age more than his face, and you really try not to see how his hair has gotten more grey. But, you do notice the dreading annoyance of being in the car with him.

He wasn't there like he used to be. He wasn't this superhero you thought he was. He was just a man, an old man whose wife was dying slowly, and he didn't have enough money to stop working until he was 70. He didn't deserve that. But he didn't need to always be working and never be at the house anymore; he didn't need to not be there for you when your mother was dying. He wasn't as strong as you thought. And it crushed you a long time ago.

"You all packed?" He asked you as you entered the airport's parking lot.

"Yeah." You say quietly. You play with the buttons on your flannel. "Mom made me check a few times."

"You have an extra pack-"

"Of underwear, just in case." You finish his sentence, a well-known saying in your house for when you go camping. You always pack three pairs. One to wear, one as a spare, and another for reserve.

He chuckled as he got into the drop-off line and looked over to you with a stoic face, but you knew he was having a deep emotion come over him. "You going to Seattle?"

"Yes, I'm going to Seattle, Dad." You said to him, a little confused with him.

He was quiet as he looked back to the steering wheel of the '78 Chevy. He picked at his nails, his hands calloused and his nails rounded from years of anxiously biting them, "You got that Swiss with you?"

"Yes, Dad. I always have it in my pocket; why?"

"You just don't have anyone to protect you-"

"Dad, I have my friends; I will be fine. It's just for four days; I'll be okay."

"I just don't trust them to protect you." He said with his head shaking a little as he crawled the car closer to the entrance of the building. "I don't really like you not being home."

You roll your eyes to yourself softly as you look at the truck's floor. You look at your tied shoes deeply as you say to reassure, "Dad. I will be fine. Guys like the coaches and their kids are coming with us to protect us."

"There is a boy going with you?" He said with a raised eyebrow. Your father's fatal flaw was his fear of you becoming a teen mother. He was dead serious and mean about boys with you, trying to scare you away from them, and it just became more annoying to listen to. "I don't know it. I want you to go now that a boy is going too."

"Dad, I'm pretty sure he is in 7th grade. I would sigh and push a 7th grader away. Don't go there." You say softly, already grabbing the bags from the back. Your dad rolled his eyes at the slang and at the fact you were right. You were a big girl and weren't easily overpowered, but you were still a little girl to him.

He lets the car fall to silence again, and you don't stop him. You wanted to run out of the car with the ticket but waited to say goodbye. This is the first time you will be so far away from home and your parents. You were so excited and nervous to get on the plane.

As you come closer in the line to the section of the drop-off, your dad looks over at you. He is emotional, his face is blank, but his eyebrows are furrowed subtly, his eyes watery, and he clears his throat as he scans the airport entrance.

“(Y/n).”

“Yes, Dad?”

"Make good decisions." He says stiffly. He looks over at you, and his rough comforting hand comes to the side of your face to touch your face. You didn't know what to do but look at your father in the face. "Can you call us when you land? I'll pay for the payphone." He says to you softly.

"Yeah, of course, Dad." You smile at him and move away to get out of the car. Too excited to stay in that quiet car, seeing your friends coming into the building from a few cars out. Before you close the door, you stop and look at your dad again, him clearly not okay with you leaving; you say, "I love you. I will see you in a few days; take care of Mom for me."

"I love you too, peanut." He says before you close the door on him. You race over to Shauna, who is walking in; you pump into her from behind, making you two laugh. You didn’t think twice to look back to your dad as he drove away, you always regretted not looking back to your father.

You listen to music as you put your duffle, carry-on, and little box luggage into the overhead compartment. Your eyes are wide, and you scan the expensive first-class seating of the plane. You feel Van push you lightly to the seats to annoy you as she walks past you; you huff and go her back, which makes her laugh.

You laugh too. You feel giddy to be on the plane and see what it is like for rich people to live. You giggle when you make eye contact with Shauna and Jackie across the way; you jump into the window seat. You up it to see the men attaching a giant hose to the wing.

Van, Lottie, and Laura Lee come into the private plane with awe in their eyes. Van jokes and admires the expensive velvet seated chairs, and the three just giggle together as they come over to you.

“This is his form of parenting, I’ll take it.” Lottie sighed as she comes closer to you in your seat.

All three giggle and say, “Thank you, Mr. Matthews.” and giggle at in their own little world.

"Mind if I sit here?" Lottie requested to your with her big brown eyes looking down to you.

"Of course! Sit with me, girl!" You chimed to Lottie with a bright smile coming to your cheeks. You then ask as you look at her cute outfit. "Lottie, how the fuck did your parents afford this?"

"(Y/n), you need to stop cursing so much. A valedictorian shouldn't speak like that! What if you slip an f-bomb in your graduation speech?" Laura Lee cuts in from the seat in front of us; she puts her bags away just like Lottie as she scolds you.

"I won't f-bomb at graduation!" You tell her with a shake of your head, moving your jacket off the seat next to you for Lottie. You pat the pocket notebook in the breast pocket of your flannel, "I'm writing it, so I will make sure to give credit to the helpful editor Laura Lee for making sure I keep it clean!" You joke as you smile at her, snarky and sarcastic.

Laura Lee rolled her eyes with a smile, "Whatever, you better say something about us in your speech."

"Yeah, add "The fucking cool Yellowjackets went to nationals, and the guy's team didn't even make it to states; never give up on your dreams!"" Lottie added; she slouched into the chair next to you as she looked out the open window to see outside. Everyone is so happy and excited; you just giggle with the girls as you pull out the notebook and pull the table over your lap. You felt gratitude that the seat and table still fit and didn't rest on your body like other seats would have done to you.

You look over to Lottie, who is now talking with Laura Lee about strategy for Nationals, and you feel your hand move your headphones from your Walkman over your ears. You let the music distract you as the plane goes off, and your handwriting shakes when the plane enters the air.

"Sorry passengers, due to an unexpected storm over the Midwest, we’ll be making a detour north through Canada. You’ll catch the amazing view of the Canadian Alms." You hear the pilot speak over the intercom, and your lips pull to an excited grin.

Lottie laughs as she sees the face and asks, "What got you so smiley?"

"We're going to see the Canadian Rockies! I went to the smoky mountains a few summers back, and it was so beautiful. I will get you to see them!" You say as you touch Lottie's hand; you smile more and move away to get started on writing the speech. You didn't know how to make yourself confident or sound that way like you earned the title.

Lottie felt her breath hitch in her throat as she felt your soft hand touch her arm. She looks over your face quickly, looking over how your cheek curves to your smile and how your eyes seem to shine when you talk. She goes quiet as she looks over your face, lost to something; she is pulled away by Laura Lee, continuing her past thought about how she should strike the ball.

The ride became calm for you; everyone settled and got into their own little worlds, some read, and others talked to their partners next to them. You look over when you finish the first draft of your speech, seeing Lottie sleeping peacefully in the seat.

"Passengers, we are about to experience turbulence. Sit tight, and talk to a flight assistant for help.” The piolet voice cuts through the air like a red hot knife and it severed something inside of you.

Your ears perked at the intercom as you felt your stomach drop slightly. You felt the tumbling of the turbulence. You see the water on your table shake, and water splashes out; Lottie wakes up with a wide eye as she looks around everywhere; you hold onto the hand rests with white knuckles. You look out the window and see the peaking out.

In the silence, try to build some courage and lose the dread building in your stomach. Suddenly, as you stare at the peaks of the mountains and the green tops of trees, you notice them growing. There was no sound when the plane started to crash down; there you were, stuck calming, looking down to the sea of green, making the sudden realization that it wasn't just turbulence. You were crashing and fast.

"Oh my fucking god!" You panic to yourself as you see the lights in the plane flashing around you; you see the movement of the masks deploying around you from the corner of your teary eye. All your friends and the other people on the plane start to scream, scared and hopeless.

Down. Down. Down.

And you were going to die. You were going down, and you had no control over what happened. You just watched the peaks of the trees come closer to the belly of the plane, you couldn’t help but start to shake in your seat. The image of your family camping comes to your mind in rapid succession of the memories of your mother singing to you as a toddler and memories of your father teaching you how to cast a line into the water. You were never going home again. You would never see your parents, friends, neighbors, co-workers, or anybody in your life again.

You felt a hand cling to yours, and it was the thing that pulled you away from the scene of your own death. You snap to your side and see Lottie also panicking with tearful eyes; she is now screaming like the other girls. But her deep brown eyes locked into yours, her hand clawing onto the back of your hand. Begging for the company in the bleak frantic moments.

You're hand moves quickly to hold her back, lacing fingers together; you stare back with your lip quivering. You were so scared you couldn't open your mouth; you couldn't say anything. You move to put your mask on quickly, but your eyes don't break from those beautiful brown eyes. A sense of calm comes over you amid the nightmare, and you know that you are going to die, but you will die around the people you did love and know who loved you.

You felt lightheaded as you two stared at each other, something deeper being told to each other with your eyes. And in your soul, you felt what she said with her as yours said to hers in that moribund realization as the plane drops your heart to your stomach.

"I am not going to die alone. Don't leave me."

"I won't leave you. We will not die alone."

The fat tears roll down your cheeks as you keep your eyes on Lottie. And Lottie does the same, her mouth open with a scream of terror, her eyes looking behind you to the reality charging towards us with trees hitting the wings.

Within a millisecond, the world went black with a disgusting crack.

25 years later…

You sit on the porch of your childhood home infront of your table covered with everything you might need to get inspired. It's been 2 years since your last novel came out; it was successful and made you money but nothing crazy. You're publisher has been hounding you for the third book in your trilogy of romance novels, but you have been dry of inspiration for a long time. Your books weren't something you were incredibly proud of. It was just a smutty and fluffy romance with dark undertones throughout. Your trilogy was about a lesbian couple composed of an adventurer looking for a lost artifact and a genie lost in the artifact. The adventurer's first wish was to be loved, and the story wrote itself after that idea.

After the rescue, you never wanted to leave your house again. It took you until Shauna's wedding to leave your home and your father's side. You were in a dark place when you came back home. You lived a life out in the wilderness that would be judged and parts that would cause people to look at you with fear. You took a few years to find the motivation to do anything with your life. Your father was loving and patient with you, and you eventually went to college in new york. You build connections and experiences you long thought were not for you and that you would never experience. You remembered being in a horse-drawn carriage in central park and crying because you finally did something, and the forest didn't stop you. It couldn't stop you anymore. You became a writer under a pen name and moved back in with your father as soon as possible; you lived mostly at home and didn't leave unless you wanted to. Now, your father living in a nursing home because he needs more medical attention than you could give him, leaving you in the big house alone. And you were happy.

You rub your eyes as you stare at the computer screen; you turn to face your cold breakfast. You bite into the sausage, feeling the texture and savoring the vestiges and juices as you eat the meat, reminding yourself to eat the meat first. The wind chimes sing softly at the wind as you look around your backyard, seeing your outside cat resting on the gate across the way. A sense of peace in the world as at this little house. You dreamed about it, and it became a paradise in your young mind; you were content with your humble home.

As you are chewing on your food, you see a woman walk through the wooden gate and look around the back of your house. You shallow quickly as you look at the unfamiliar woman, your eyes sharp as you take another bite of food before calling out to her. A tan woman with black curls and a strong nose. You have never seen this woman in your life.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?"

"Oh, I'm looking for (Y/n) (L/n). Does she still live here?" The woman asked, looking at you with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm she."

"I am Jessica Roberts, Star-Ledger, and I'd like to ask you a few questions.

You feel your mask work for you, a smile on your lips as you wave her over to you. "Come on over; I just made some coffee."

"Thank you," Jessica said as she came into your yard. You stand up, not caring if she would steal your computer, and go through the back door to get her a cup of coffee.

You walk back out to her, sitting across from you at the table and her looking over the spread of items on the table. It had your breakfast, half-empty coffee, an ashtray, a computer, writing notebooks, and flowers. You always had a vase of flowers on your tables. "You like flowers, I see?" Jessica commented as she saw the cases of your phone and computer, flowers, and the big bouquet of wildflowers.

"Yeah, I think it gives more color to my workspace." You say with a kind tone to it. You smile as you sit on the floor pillow and push your work aside to see her more clearly. "What do you need to ask me? Is it about the Ancient Desires series?"

"Oh, no," Jessica said with a confused look like she never heard of them. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as the air was thicker. "I wasn't going to ask you about that."

Your ear perks up, and you feel the air still. The palms of your hands clam up as you continue your Façade. You perfected hiding your feeling under a smile, having to calm and temper the hunger of others for so long kept with you. Smiling and nodding, simply listening and being seen, was a tool you learned and used daily. No one needed to know the hurt or the anger, knowing if they caught a glimpse of the rage boiling inside, you would scare them. "It should scare them," you thought to yourself in times of reflection that both made you scared of yourself but empowered with knowledge of the depth of your rage.

"Well, what is it that you want to ask?" You ask her, but already knowing what she is going to say.

"I wanted to ask you about what really happened 25 years ago?" Jessica asked with a curtness that you didn't appropriate about the topic. She is that type of reporter. She is not asking about the new book's release, and she was not here for some literary journal. She is here to pry like so many before. Like the others, they have no taste as they try to pry and ask questions about the scars on your face or how you became so skinny upon your return that would be followed up by a question if you were pleased with your new body or when they try and ask what happened to the other girls in the woods.

You pause and grab a cigarette. You think to yourself, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Okay. We have. I remember we had a press conference a month after our rescue, and we told the story." You said quickly as you blew the smoke out of your mouth, hiding your nervousness. You remember the flashing lights of cameras and the distasteful questions, the feeling of the eyes of the girls on you, and feeling your tongue move as you lie through your teeth that day. You lean your head on your fist as you smoke your cigarette.

"No, but how did you all survive 19 months in those woods? How did you survive, (Y/N)?"

You look at her with your face unchanging, skillfully, as you make your face look softly confused. A soft smile as you nod your head, smoking the stick. "Okay. We have already said what happened when we got back 25 years ago. We starved, scavenged, and prayed a lot, and then we were found."

"I know you have been letting other people tell your story-"

You dryly chuckle, cutting her off, blowing your smoke shakily as you say, "I am a bestseller author. I have published 4 books if you did any research before coming here. I would have written about it, but there is not much to tell that wouldn't be tragedy porn for sick fucks to read. Just like the sick fucks paying you to dig up this old story. I've moved on."

"All I am saying is that some of them are getting money off your story. Don't let them tell your story."

You lean back on your comfortable pillow as you gently let the wind hit your face. Feeling calm over you as you smoke again, looking into her eyes as you soften your face. In your heart, you know she is bluffing, but your hands shake with nervousness; you slowly space out as you let something come over you that spoke in the reassuring voice you mastered.

"Whatever you think happened out there is probably much worse than what happened. I know we all don't want to relive our pasts because of how tragic it was…." As you look at your table, you feel space out as the world becomes quieter. "Honestly, we just starved and hunted whatever we could find to keep the ones to survive the crash alive. And some died along the way from exposure and starvation. It was hard to live through, and it is something I will always take with me, the time I lost and the kid I was, but we have told you the whole story. We just survived. I don't understand what you are looking for me to say." You said, as you basically rephrased the press statement you said 25 years ago. You remember holding the queue cards tightly as you stare down at them, not daring to face the families and people demanding answers. But how could you answer those questions? How could you tell them that what they think is true, you ate your friends, but how do you confess how you ate them, the reason they died. You remembered as you told the microphone of the deaths of the people as starvations, looking up to find Akilah's sister with a 3-year-old boy on her lap, you felt yourself choke under the guilt. You ran away from the press conference as soon as it was finished; you remember the sobs you wailed into your father's chest when you got home. And how you couldn't face the world for a few years after that. Lies always seemed to stab you more profoundly than any other bad intention, but you couldn't see how telling the truth would do anyone good.

"Have you spoken to the other girls to know they don't want to relive it?"

You chuckle again as you sip your coffee. You shake your head and say, "No, I haven't spoken to them in years. I think the last time I saw one of the girls was back in… '07? I hope they are doing good. I don't know how they feel, but I am just assuming." You lie smoothly. You take a deep puff out of the cigarette. "I am done talking about this now; I hope you can respect my decision."

"Alright, but if you change your mind, please contact me," she says, putting a business card with the very clearly fake business name on it and her number. You smile as she gets up and leaves, not touching the coffee and leaving without a goodbye.

You kiss your teeth as you think, "Wasteful bitch." You sigh as you smoke the end of the short cigarette, pouring the untouched coffee into your mug. You sit in your spaced-out state as your thoughts run. You feel yourself kiss your teeth again, knowing what you should do, as you stand up with a new cigarette in your teeth, walking into your home.

You race to the bedroom, and you find the purple burner phone. The one that Tai bought you a week before she married Simone, she begged you to keep contact and that she couldn't imagine a world without you as she proposed to Simone. You took the phone without saying anything to the crying woman, and you pointedly never used it after putting all the yellowjackets information into it if you needed it. You still felt a sting when you thought about Tai and how things ended up for you. You felt that way about all the girls.

You sigh and light the cigarette as you look up to the ceiling; you roll your eyes as you call the number that you know would know the most and would give you anything you need at the drop of a hat.

You hear the rings as you anxiously pace the floor, smoking the cigarette deep into your lungs, feeling the tickle and your nerves widen in your legs and hands.

"Hello, this is Misty Quigley. Who is this?"

"Hey, Misty, it's me-"

"Hi," Misty said breathlessly on the other end. I can already tell she is smiling and pressing her phone closer to her cheek, trying to get close to you somehow. She knew it was you before you could finish your sentence.

"I wanted to call and tell you that someone came to my house and asked about it." You said softly to her, holding the burning stick. Looking at it as you lose yourself in the disassociating daydream. "You told me once, if anything happened, to call you."

"Who was it? Another reporter? Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?"

"Yeah, she said her name was Jessica Roberts from the Star-Ledger. I-I know you are better at these things than me, but I don't think that if that is really her name or Star-Ledger is real. I wanted you to know before she or any of the girls come to you." You said as you felt yourself start crying. You didn't know why.

"Thank you. You're still so kind; how are you doing? Are you still in New York?" Misty asked quickly, and you felt your skin crawl as you knew she was already trying to get her claws into you again. Too much hurt lingers inside you with what happened in the woods.

"I-I… Thank you, Misty. I have to go now-"

"Wait-"

"Bye. I'm sorry." You sobbed as you hung up on her. You felt a piece of your heart pull at the pain. You chose yourself long ago; you can't let them come back in. They would never leave. You don't really know if you want them to.

You know that you would let them creep back into your life if you let them. They saved you. They protected you. How could you stay away from them again?

DINGDONG! DINGDONG!

You feel yourself flinch at the sound of your doorbell ring in your house. It stabbed the air violently. You rush to the door now, feeling lost in the moment. The memories rush and consume your reality. As you race down the stairs, you feel the air push your hair like the wild wind did in those hunts; the feeling of your skin touching the carpeted floors turn to wet grass, as the hair follows out not out of simple bounce of stairs but out of savagery.

"Jessica, I already told you that I don't-" You say as you open the door, only to find nobody there. You pause as you look around the road with the other houses on the drive and the forest surrounding your home. You feel the wilderness look at you when you scan the trees, knowing it is breathing you in as you breathe it in. You were alone in your isolated country home,

You look down at the mat to find a bouquet of Baby breaths wrapped in brown paper. You shakily pick it up and look at the card. You felt the lone lost role come back from all those years ago, the Doe, the innocent creature watched over by the wolves and tormented with pleasure and insanity. Your eyes manically look around the house again as you lose your breath, panic over you as you back into your door, slamming and locking the door.

“I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve never met anyone who is equally beautiful inside and out as you. I hope you like the flowers even though I know you prefer color.

Eternally yours ♡”

Unbeknownst to you, across the way, a woman watched the house when you cowered back into the safety of the house. Her hand clutched the tree with their fingers digging into the now smoothed bark from the years of her touch. Her face snarls as she sees you hide back into your house, the lip quacking into a smirk, taking you drawing back as an invitation to chase you again. They remembered the years they yearned for you, afraid of you rejecting them because they didn't know if you liked girls too, not knowing how you would love them. You were precious; you were kind and genuine, ferocious and passionate, but so lost like always. They saw how you were lonely before the crash, and they see it now. They knew deep down that you were ruled by your fear and love of others, making you hide. They knew if they got you again, you couldn't leave them like you did once. You were their wife out there. And they are going to get you back.

Note: I really hope you liked this story! Please ask me if you want to be on the Taglist or any thoughts on my story. Also, if you don’t like the outfits you don’t have to take them as the image you get in your head while reading, they were just what I used to inspire the story and enrich the character setting that you are in for this story! (BTW I am so annoyed that I couldn’t find any plus sized clothes on the site I used to make the outfits)

#yellowjackets #lesbian #wlw #van palmer x reader #lottie matthews x reader #taissa turner x reader #shauna shipmen #Shauna shipmen x reader #van palmer #lottie mathews #taissa turner #misty quigley #misty quigley x reader #yellowjackets x reader

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in-death-we-fall · 1 year

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Slipknot

Calculated Carnage: The Numbers Don’t Lie

By Paul Gargano (google drive link)

Ten years ago, the Limelight was a landmark for bands who performed in New York City. Women danced in cages suspended from vaulted ceilings, stained glass surrounded a stage elevated on what used to be an altar and men and women mingled in lines for the unisex bathrooms. Built as a church decades earlier, the site had since been deconsecrated, converted to a nightclub, and angel-shaped disco balls hung where a crucifix was once suspended. It was the perfect–not to mention haunting and eerie–setting for the inspired debauchery of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll that made the late ‘80s and early ‘90s such revered times. And almost a decade later, recently reopened, it was the perfect venue to host the live chaos that is Slipknot.

Had there still been cages, more timid members of the crowd may have fled for them, seeking sanctity from the madness that overwhelmed the mosh pit, a floor previously occupied by rows of pews. In stark contrast to the gothic styling of the stained glass that overlooked them, Slipknot’s red jumpsuits were bright and glaring, punching into the flashing strobes and lights that lit the stage and sold-out crowd. It was a venue far too small for Slipknot–who had made their network television debut only hours earlier on Late Night With Conan O’Brien–but what it lacked in size, it made up for in character, with fans occupying choir lofts that overlooked the insanity.

It’s been a whirlwind year for Slipknot, and post-show was no exception, where #1 and #2–drummer Joey and bassist Paul, who both founded the band with #6, custom-percussionist Shawn–took some time away from the post-show madness to offer their insight behind the band that has taken the world by storm over the past year. They left the following morning for a European tour that was ultimately cut short by a personal issue at home–says Joey, “When you get a call that brings you back to where your whole mind should be, you’ve gotta take care of that stuff first and foremost”–and in the midst of planning this summer’s anticipated Tattoo The Earth tour with Sevendust and Coal Chamber, are already at work on their sophomore album, which they hope to release early next year. Who knew Des Moines, Iowa could be so inspiring?

METAL EDGE: Looking at what’s going on with today’s hard rock/metal scene, it’s starting to look a bit like the rap industry, with all the separate camps and alliances. #1 (JOEY): Honestly, that type of shit disgust’s (sic) me. #2 (PAUL): We don’t need it. It’s not that we’re going out of our way, we just say what we feel, so either take it or leave it. Korn opened a lot of doors when they came out, and that’s that. Limp Bizkit, well, I’m not going to go there… Wes [Borland] is a good guitar player. It’s scary. I picked up a magazine yesterday with a “Slipknot vs. Limp Bizkit” poll for fans to vote on, and it came out to be Slipknot over Limp Bizkit like 70% to 30%. I don’t know how that happened and I’m very worried about… I mean, you got a magazine that caters to the teenybopper metal crowd, and you’ve got every fucking issue with Korn, Marilyn Manson, Limp Bizkit and Orgy. And now Slipknot’s in every issue–I don’t like that. The thing is, I guess I can’t help it because if it matters that much to the kids, I say, “thank you.” You know how appreciative we all are, you’ve hung out with the band. You know how humble we all are about what’s happening to all of us. But, when the next record comes out, our record label is not going to fucking hear it until it’s done. No one’s going to hear it. No studio reports. There’s not going to be anything done. We’re going back to our old, old, old fucking dingy practice room with my mom coming down and fucking doing laundry in the middle of practice. That’s the way it needs to be done because we’ve accomplished this on writing music that we thought filled our emotional need. Now, the emotional need has been magnified so much because of the experiences we’ve been through, so it’s just gonna be a massively, apocalyptic, totally sick and disgusting record.

ME: Do you realize the impact you’re having on your fans? I was at your instore in New York City and it was more enthusiastic than any I’d seen before. Your fans really seem to connect with you. #1: Yeah, well that’s the thing. People always talk about needing to branch out and try different things, and I’m okay with that. We want to get our music out to different crowds, but I sometimes don’t. I wanna make sure that we please the fans that were there from the beginning and understood every aspect when no one else understood. I wanna make sure that that fan remains happy for every record. We expected to sell maybe 150-200,000 records–And not until after two years of touring. Well, I guess we filled a void in those kids… They needed this band for awhile. That’s the whole thing, I don’t necessarily want to lump myself in with those bands because I feel we have nothing in common with them, but I give total respect to Korn because on their first fucking record they opened up so many doors and they did something completely original. You’ve got the mainstay, bands like Black Sabbath, and they’re got a bunch of imitators, but there’s only one Black Sabbath. I’m not a fan of Limp Bizkit, but there’s only one of them–Even though they came after Korn. You’ve got the Deftones and stuff, they all have very energetic and very, at times, liberating music. Limp Bizkit I can’t get into, I’m not a fan, and I think we’re the total opposite of a lot of that stuff that band stands for. It’s for some people, it’s not for some people, and I don’t want to be liked by everyone–That’s the scary thing. It’s so weird that so many people have identified with what we’re doing now–It’s very scary. #2: Yes! And it’s amazing, too, because we don’t get a lot of help from the radio and MTV like these other bands. We occasionally get our video played, and there are some radio stations, but it just proves that the kids need something different. They’re sick of the same old shit being pumped down their throats.

ME: There’s an extra psychological burden, “We’re not just a band anymore, we’re a cultural force.” Did you ever want that? #1: You know what? Yes, I have, and I love the fact, I’m very fucking fortunate and grateful. I do not want to decrease it in any way. I do want to make it bigger. I wanna make it bigger by keeping the fire real and by keeping the emotion and all that shit real. And not worrying about my record label breathing down my neck like they did last time for rough mixes and fucking, “Can you try and make…” No! Ther’s why the ante has been upped on making such a fucking… You could even say it’s overcompensated and fucking disjointed as far as our personalities are concerned. We were going to record in May, but we’re going to stay out and tour because the demand for the record and the demand for us to tour now is so huge in the States–We haven’t been there, we really haven’t toured since early January and that was only like two-and-a-half weeks. Our shows were sold-out, but now we’re selling 30,000 copies a week and we’re beating the system by being played on MTV–which I’m not a fan of–and radio stations like the L.A. K-Rock and the New York K-Rock. I guess I thank them for playing us–We could have it a lot worse–but the fact is, the next record probably wouldn’t turn out the same because we’ve been through a lot of experiences now. We’re going to work so hard on it and I think it’s going to be so ground-breaking for the fact that when you go through all the things we’ve just gone through, it will never be like this again. That’s why it’s very hard for a lot of bands to copy their first record and I love that people say that. Our first record is that good. It is a very pinnacle-type album. I’m so glad that people say that because I still have that hunger that I had when I was fucking playing in front of three people in Lincoln, Nebraska with a bartender and then a cat outside, grasshoppers and fucking crickets. We are maintaining that type of a focus. #2: When we started this band, I knew it was something kids needed. I didn’t think it would be like this, but I had a feeling. Nothing’s settled in yet. We’re on the road playing shows, and that’s basically all that’s settled in! Get up and play another show! [Laughing]

ME: But it’s not enough to just “play another show” every night, you guys are beating the crap out of each other and takin’ bumps. #2: Who wants to see a band up onstage staring at their shoes? That’s not entertaining. We definitely have our bruises and our sore body parts after shows, but once we get the masks and coveralls on, I could have a broken leg and still go out there. In Australia, I tore cartilage in my knee, I couldn’t bend it, and I just taped it up really well and went out there. Shawn’s played with broken ribs. We just don’t feel the pain.

ME: You need to look into some aspirin endorsements! #2: Advil would be real nice! [Laughing] It hurts, the masks aren’t comfortable at all–it would be awesome to play in shorts and a t-shirts (sic), but that’s not us. After the show we can rest all we want.

ME: There’s a definite sense of surprise in your stage show, you never know what’s happening next. Does anyone ever take it too far and cross the line? #1: No. It can never go too far. Never too over-the-top. For a band like us, that’s the first sign of us not being what we stand for.

ME: Joey, from your vantage point onstage what do you see looking out from behind your kit? What goes through your head? #1: Honestly, I can’t even put that in words. You’re the first person that ever asked me that, but it’s something that I think about every day. I guess I see the other side of when I was in the audience watching Slayer or Metallica. I’m usually the first person out onstage, and everytime I come out there are literally tears. I really can’t explain it, it’s so grand, it’s so bigger than words. Literally, I’m getting cracked up just talking about it.

ME: Did you anticipate this kind of success, this fast? #1: Well, sometimes, but that’s just society’s control. Welcome it. If it happens this fast, welcome it and use it to your advantage and make sure that you… Like I said, I thanks all of our fans so much for fucking supporting what we have done, because it’s made me not wanna fucking destroy myself. Back in Des Moines, I thought I was literally going to die if I didn’t get to do this. I get to do it now. But, the whole thing is, when you climb one mountain, it’s time to make sure the next mountain gets climbed and the next one .And you gotta re-evaluate the goal because we got this many people on our side now. It’s like Guns N’ Roses coming so fucking fast, the next thing you know, the dude hasn’t put out a record in like a decade. Like Mike Patton, probably one of the most fucking insane performers and songwriters of the decade–He is so underrated, went on to sell millions of albums in the early ‘90s, and continually turned around and spit in everyone’s faces by putting out albums with some of the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard. We always say that if things get too big, too fast, if there’s no room for the band to grow because we’ve already accomplished so much, it’ll be time for the band to stop. Johnny Rotten said that the easiest thing to do is stop being a rock star if you don’t want to be one anymore–I thought that statement had so much integrity, and it’s had such an impact on me. I think about that quote every day. #2: It’s amazing. Just to be able to see the country and play these shows for kids all over the place, it’s the most amazing thing. I can’t believe people get paid to do this. I would pay to do this! It rules, I can’t ask for anything more. I just sit back, smile, and if there’s any bullshit, I just smile and let it go on by without bothering me.

ME: Do you think there’s a need for rock stars in society today? #1: Yes, because I needed them, and if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t be where I’m at. It’s like giving two cents back to the music that meant so much to me growing up–Black Sabbath, Slayer, Venom and Mercyful Fate. I showed up at the Clash of the Titans tour long before anyone else did because I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom Araya, and last summer, I got to hang out with him. That’s a weird thing, but I needed it to become who I am today. That’s why I’ll welcome it if it’s happened this fast, because people obviously needed it. When we were practicing for pre-production of our album, we were in the same rehearsal space as KISS. I was drawing their logos all over my books in school, now we were practicing next to them, we were standing outside listening to their whole set. The funny thing was, when they all left the room, we were stealing sticks and stuff! It’s being that fan, because we still are that. On OZZfest, I’d watch Slayer from the front row every day, not like a rock star standing on the side of the stage with a laminate.

ME: Has being from Des Moines had a lot to do with your development? #1: Absolutely. From day one. Had we come from L.A. or New York, we would not have the band that we have. Honestly, we grasped on to something early on that meant something so much, then you take that and revel in it, building, building and building, practicing, practicing and practicing, and creating, creating and creating. You magnify those three things, you keep it going and you network, and if you can do that coming from where we’ve come from, you can do it anywhere, because it was a virtual black hole that Corey describes as a graveyard with buildings. #2: It’s weird, it’s almost impossible to get A&R people to Iowa. Half the people don’t even know where it is–”Iowa, isn’t that the potato state?” No, it’s corn country. No one wants to go to Des Moines for their weekend! Finally, Ross Robinson came out and said that regardless of the label, he’ll do the record. Now there are people looking all over Iowa for bands, but there’s just the one and only… People were hoping it would be the “new metal Mecca,” but it’s only us! There area (sic) few good blues bands out here, though.

ME: How long was Slipknot in the making? #1: Ten years in the making. From the day I started playing drums, the day I started playing guitar. Me, Paul and Shawn started the band. Paul and I were playing in different side projects, and I met all those other guys because we’d set up shows with friends’ bands and we’d be playing for each other. There was no one in the audience. When you put up a flier you’d get fined $50. There’s no audience. Not a fucking person. And we had no money because we spent it all (sic) drum stands and guitar strings, struggling to buy that shit. There were no newspapers or radio stations that would tell you about the bands. No doubt, man, all this stuff that’s happened to the band? You don’t even hear about it there. We go home and it’s like we never left. A girl that was on Jenny Jones was big news, but Des Moines doesn’t recognize the gold album, selling out all our shows, being on Conan O’Brien, doing OZZfest. They do’t even write about it. You wouldn’t believe it, but it’s the truth. It just goes back to show me why that place is so fucking special, because it’s such an integral part of making music. I’m glad it’s still like that, because when I go back home, the only thing I want to do is get back on tour, work hard on writing music and stay doing that until the album’s finished.

ME: Was there a certain point where you had the vision that would evolve into Slipknot? #2: Well, it wasn’t planned, it definitely evolved. The lack of anything in Des Moines definitely fueled it, and we just went from there. When we got together, we didn’t have any rules about what it would be, we just got together and the nine people made it what it is. All day, every day, that’s what the band is. The band’s my life, it means everything, it’s my family. It’s what I love the most, and it’s what I hate the most.

ME: It sounds like you’ve accomplished more than you ever hoped to, what’s next? #2: For now, just doing our shows and being with my best friends. But in the long term, it’s going to be world domination. That’s what we’re trying to accomplish. #1: Once you climb one mountain you need to reevaluate and climb another one. We’re going to continue to tour and knock it out, all the way through Tattoo. Then we’d like to go into the studio. Then the next step is to take the most anticipated disjointed, apocalyptic, gross-sounding, disgusting type of exorcism you can imagine and put them all on one record. Every song will be twice what every song on the last album was. It’s all about the band maintaining the good attitude and integrity, and the same fire and hunger that we’ve had, and taking that and magnifying it and making a way better album. #2: Our next record is going to be over the fucking top. It’s going to be stupid!

ME: With things blowing up so fast, what are you proudest of as a band? #2: I’m proudest every day of just being in this band. What blows me away most of all is the fact that I get to do it. The fact that I’m in a band with my best friends, playing songs that we wrote in a basement, and seeing all the emotion from people who come out and get it every night. #1: Our middle finger attitude. How we’ve beaten the system in less than a year, all eyes have turned, and we’ve answered to nobody. That’s why I’m glad it happened as fast as it did. Hard work over time? Sure, good things come, but when it happens that fast it’s more poignant and people remember it more. It’s freaky and it’s very surreal, but that’s why I did welcome it. There’s a reason it happened so fast, because those kids need to stand for something. That’s why I think the next record may shun some people. Is it too over the top? No, it can’t be.

ME: Are you afraid of being “too metal”? #1: We’re fully metal, and we’ve always said that. People are afraid of that word because when Pearl jam and Nirvana came they were supposed to make music more open-minded, but they really made it more closed-minded than ever. We’ll always be a metal band.

ME: You were offered OZZfest this year, why not do it again? It’s a big risk headlining your own tour. #1: There are a lot of reasons why we didn’t do it. It was very cool to do it, but I don’t need an encore performance of it. The Tattoo tour wasn’t our concept, someone came up with it and brought it to us and it was something that we were into. We stepped in. It’s cool to start something from the ground up and not know if it’s going to work. I like everything to be very unpredictable, like playing a show.

ME: It seems like you guys have just gone out of your way to defy everyone in any position of power. Is that conscious? #1: No, because we’ve always done it and we still don’t make any money–There are nine people in this band! The stage manager will come up to us before the show and say, “Please don’t burn anything on the stage, don’t throw your drums, don’t break anything…” Well, that’s a bad thing to tell us, because we’re in debt anyway. Break it all, spend all the money! We’re not making any smart fucking business calls! That’s what lawyers and managers are for. It’s all about being in the moment and being in the vibe, and you can’t deny that. If you deny human feelings, you’re a fraud. #2: I think people are drawn to honesty. Who wants smoke blown up their ass? People want to know that we’re for real. People are drawn to it because they’re sick of all the other bullshit.

ME: We’ve heard about a lot of the bands that you don’t get along with, what are some of the bands you really respect? #1: Amen. They’re very good friends of ours and have the same type of fire even though they create a different style of music. I’m a very big fan of Mike Patton’s [Faith No More] projects and the Melvins. I respect all those guys because they don’t care. They make music just for themselves, they don’t let outside influences get to them.

ME: If you could leave your fans with any one message, what would it be? #2: Be yourselves and don’t fuckin’ worry about everyone else. Do your own shit… And, thanks! From the bottom of our hearts, we thank every kid who’s ever bought our album, checked the website out, or given us any support. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be doing this interview, so from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

#if you want anything else from this scanned lemme know!#slipknot #joey jordison #paul gray #metal edge 46-3 jul 2000 #interview #god i love this one 😭

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that-tmblr-blog · 1 month

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Practical Midwifery for Beginners

Stevie approached the doors of the labour ward with increasingly slow steps. As if putting it off long enough might mean she would never have to go in. But eventually, she reached them. Now she had to enter.

She tapped the large red button on the intercom and announced her name into the receiver. Without a word from the attendant on the other side, the door clicked open and she was free to walk in.

"Here we go then," she said quietly to herself. "now or never".

She walked into the ward with just as little pace as she had before and found it to be nothing like what she'd imagined. It was pleasant.

Ever since she'd found out she was pregnant, and for many years before, she'd imagine the birthing ward to be a place of near unimaginable horror. TV tropes of the 90s had always played through her mind whenever she thought of this place with screams of howling agony bellowing out from behind every door.

She imagined women being wheeled between one room and the next sweating, panting, cursing, and yelling at their poor befuddled partners as a melon-sized object bowled its way out from their womb.

Reality, she noted, was far more mundane. The corridor walls were a rather plain beige and entirely free of blood spatter or dents from objects thrown and embedded in their plaster. There was even a healthy-looking ficus that would have almost certainly have wilted at the first hint of foul language or violence.

Reporting to the front desk she announced herself to the pleasant receptionist who didn't look at all like the draconian torturer she had imagined in her prenatal appointments.

"Hi, um, I'm Stevie," she announced. "I'm the learning apprentice for today?"

"oh, of course!" The receptionist smiled. "When are you due?"

"Three weeks yesterday" Stevie replied.

"Wonderful, sound like you've come at just the right time. You're going to learn so much today," the receptionist continued. "Mothers always come back saying it really took the mystery and the fear out of the process for them"

Stevie wasn't so sure. She didn't want her face to give her feelings away, but she could only imagine how she'd react to watching a small human squeeze its way out of the vagina of another woman. She was pretty certain that she'd like some of the mystery left in.

This is not what she said to the receptionist, however. Instead, she smiled and nodded.

"Anne will take you through everything today," the receptionist continued "She'll be here in a minute, I hear she's got a doozy of a case for you today!"

Stevie wondered exactly what that meant. What kind of birth would she consider "a doozy"? The very idea of one human being creating and birthing another in such a short space of time was considered quite a feat to her just 9 months ago. What else could there be on top of that? She wondered if she really should stick around to find out.

She scanned up and down the corridor to look for hints of what she might be in store for. Perhaps she could see the danger far enough on the horizon. It was then, however, she realised that her time to make an escape had just run out. Anne, identified by her over-sized sharpie name tag, was barrelling towards her.

A heavy-set woman with red hair and a warm heart-felt smile, Anne reminded Stevie of a friendly neighbour or caring school teacher as she approached.

"Good morning," Anne smiled. "Don't you look ready to pop!"

Stevie ran her hand down the length of her swollen belly. She'd rather not be reminded, yet, everyone seemed compelled to remind her all the same. Already self-conscious about the size of her belly, a place like this did more to emphasize her approaching due date than anywhere else.

"Morning," she replied. "feels like it too.."

"Well not today, darling," Anne laughed. "I think we've got quite enough on our plate with the one baby we're paid to deliver"

Stevie winced a little. Hearing Anne talk about the pair of them helping to deliver a baby on their own made it feel so real and so close. She wished it was neither.

"We've got a lady in today, room 5, we think she's going to have a record breaker!" Anne said with enthusiastic cheer. "Could be one of the biggest babies we've delivered on the ward, everyone's looking out for it! You could be a celebrity in here before you come back!"

Anne laughed, but Stevie's anxiety only grew. Her hand unconsciously ran down her outsized belly as she wondered whether today was going to ease her mind or induce yet more terror at the worst possible moment.

Just then, a roar sounded out from far down the corridor. The first Stevie had heard, it sent a cold chill down her spine and formed a deep pit in the base of her stomach. Fear was approaching whether she was ready for it or now.

Anne perked up, apparently un-phased by the urgency or the intensity of what she'd heard. "Ah, that sounds like just our cue"

She turned on her heels and began walking down the corridor at a brisk pace. Stevie assumed that she was expected to follow.

"I hope you haven't made plans this evening" she continued while walking. "There's no telling what time we could be here till"

Having skipped breakfast on questionable advice, Stevie wondered if there was still a chance to grab some food if she wasn't going to get out of here for dinner. Another roar from the room down the hall told her that there most probably wasn't.

Rushing through the corridor to get to their patient, they passed room after room where endless numbers of women were deep in the throes of labour. Feeling as if she'd just entered a world she had known nothing about, Stevie couldn't resist peeking in through open doors and uncurtained windows as they raced past.

Everyone she saw looked to be in various stages of agony, desperation, and effort. Her stomach dropped again.

The next room she looked in was the most heavily attended. A handful of medical staff crowded around the bed of a young dark-haired woman pushing with every bit of effort and control it seemed she could muster.

With her legs raised in stirrups and her handheld by her partner, the beautiful young woman's face turned beet red as she fleshed her teeth and contorted her face into a grimace of pain curling around to bear down against the foreigner she'd grown inside.

"poor thing," Stevie thought, forgetting that it would be her own body heaving down in agony in just a few weeks.

Anne was walking faster now, or Stevie has accidentally slowed to watch. She picked up her pace as best she could for all the extra weight she was carrying. In the next few windows, she saw women in earlier phases of labour. Pacing around the room, bouncing on large blue exercise balls, resting bent over with their arms clinging on to the rail at the foot of the bed as if they were about to set-off and push them clean through the adjoining wall.

The next-door they found was their own audibly suffering patient. It was already open.

Entering the room, Stevie's first instinct was to leave again and perhaps come back another time. The patient, a young blonde woman with a slim body, save for the large round belly in its mid-section, had a loud booming moan that seemed to echo around the room as she squirmed in agony. Of course, Stevie realised there wasn't going to be another time. The young woman's labour was what they were there to help with. Though she wasn't exactly sure how.

"Huaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhh," the patient bellowed as she held tight to her partner's hand.

Unlike Stevie, Anne looked like a natural in this highly charged room. "Well done dear, you're doing just fine," she yelled above the patient moans. "I've got an assistant here today, due very soon, she's here to see how it's all done, is that ok?"

"Fine, whatever!" the patient cried out, clearly still suffering the effects of the previous contraction.

Stevie wondered if the patient knew how little Anne's assistant knew about birth or wanted to be in the room when it happened. Surely she must have had to have been an assistant at someone else's birth before. Why would she agree to inflict it on her too after that?

Moving to the centre of the room, Stevie looked around at the surroundings, it was nicer than she'd imagined. Freshly painted, clean, tidy, and almost homely looking. A far cry from the sterile white chamber of torture that often played through her mind. Yet, she couldn't ignore the large metal stirrups that hung on the side of the bed.

The straps, pulleys, and stirrups that hung on the bed looked like a medieval torture rack updated for the modern-day. Quickly, Anne brought her back to the present with a run-down of the patient's details.

"This is Katie, a nineteen-year-old first-time mum planning a natural birth here today with her partner, Sam"

Stevie smiled awkwardly at them both and introduced herself. Unsure of where to look, how to stand, or what to say, she worried that she might look half as uncomfortable as she felt.

As if on cue, Katie bellowed another echoing moan to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwrghh"

Stevie's sense of medieval torture was beginning to feel more and more real. She watched as Katie writhed and moaned on the bed in front of her, clinging on to Sam's hand, squeezing it hard as she gripped and clawed at the bedsheet beside her.

She wanted to do something. Better yet, she wanted Anne to do something. Yet, she also knew there was nothing that anyone could do to ease the agony so clearly coursing through the poor girl's body.

"Now that you're coming along so well, I think it's time we had another check," Anne announced.

"Please!" Sam interjected. "Last time you came in here you left her like this. One injection and now my wife is in so much pain! Can't you give her a rest?!"

Stevie would have found it hard to argue. Anne, however, seemed unmoved.

"Yes, we did give a shot of Pitocin almost an hour ago," she replied. "That was to help baby along and, by the sounds of things it seems like it's working just fine.."

"Honey please," Katie interrupted, waving him off with her free hand. "It's ok, do whatever you need to, but be quick please, it hurts so bad"

Stevie noted how tired the woman looked. Already exhausted but with so much work to do still ahead of her. She wanted to ask how she felt, how she was coping, how she thought she could go through with such an excruciating ordeal. But she wasn't just a casual bystander now, she was a medical professional tasked with looking after her patient.

Instead, Anne continued. Raising the bed to standing height, she asked Katie to bring her feet together, raise and part her knees, and lifted the hospital sheet until the poor patient was entirely exposed to them both.

Stevie instinctively moved her gaze away in embarrassment. Of course, she reasoned, she would have to look. It was, in effect, the entire reason she was placed there.

She steeled herself for a second and returned her attention back to Katie who was laying back in bed to rest between agonising contractions.

Anne was already applying generous amounts of jelly across her fingers, palm, and back of her right hand. Then, with barely a second of hesitation, she approached Katie and slid her fingers deep inside.

"Ok, Katie, deep breath for me, here we go.."

She tensed up and winced a little as Anne made contact. On instinct, Stevie braced herself and winced too. Quickly, she caught herself, realised she was mirroring her patient, and tried to act as calm and relaxed as she didn't feel inside.

Despite her act, Stevie's eyes still widened in surprise as Anne's hand continued to push further and further inside of Katie's body. With barely a second passed, Anne's entire gloved fist was pushing deep into Katie who grimaced and squirmed as the midwife stretched at her body.

"Wonderful, dear!" Anne smiled. "You're six centimetres already! You've been working like a champion since the last exam"

With Anne still deep inside her, Katie didn't respond but to deepen her grimace and take long and controlled breaths. Her head lifted from the pillow and an expression of relief only washed over her when Anne slid her hand back out of her body. Turning to Stevie, Anne gestured at her patient "now you try".

Stevie froze. She was about to reply, but how? Turn down the offer? Was it even an offer, or was it her role for today? Before she had the chance Anne had already handed her a set of gloves.

Both Katie and Anne appeared to be waiting on her next move. She put the gloves on, though remained unsure of what was expected of her. She covered her hands in a film of jelly before taking the place Anne had set aside.

Without any more time to think, she placed her hand at the edge of Katie's vulva and slid two fingers inside. She was shocked by how physically hot and vulnerable Katie's body felt under her touch. She moved deeper inside and felt every bump and ridge of Katie's body at the tips of her gloved fingers.

With her second knuckle passing inside she wasn't sure exactly how far she should go. This was closer than she'd ever expected to be. She looked to Anne, who nodded that she can keep going. She began to wonder how Katie was feeling at this very moment.

Tempted to stop at every second, Anne continued to guide her deeper and deeper until she came to a halt against a firm wall. Now, only the base of her hand was visible outside of Katie's birth canal.

Stevie gasped in surprise, hoping the patient or her husband hadn't heard her shock. The cervix was a doughnut-shaped wall, rigid yet soft, slowly making its way open in fits and starts of pain.

Stevie could feel its opening, already impossibly wide, and thought about it being barely over halfway. Wow, she thought, it goes all the way to ten?!

Katie had only appeared slightly uncomfortable as Stevie had pushed further inside. Something, she thought it surprising, given that it looked as if she was giving birth to Stevie's entire arm. Only now was she beginning to writhe and squirm with her eyes screwed tightly shut and her face contorted in pain. Then, Stevie felt it too.

She felt Katie's muscles spasm and clamp around her as contractions broke through her body. As the poor woman moaned out and began breathing heavily and huge gasping pants, Stevie wasn't sure what she should do.

She wanted to pull her hand back, to slide it out from her birth canal and do what she could to help her through the suffering. Yet, she found it difficult to move as Katie's body seemed to tighten and clamp around her. Katie's hot, writhing body gripped hold and release her hand in almost rhythmic pulses of energy.

"You see? You see now what she feels?" Anne asked her. "You see what you'll do one day soon?"

"Y-yes?" Stevie replied. The one thing she was trying so desperately hard not to do was to think about her own labour in just a few weeks time. She didn't want to take the place of this poor woman as she howled in agony on the bed in front of her. Not now, not in 3 weeks, not ever.

Already suffering from pangs of sympathy pains, she could feel her own stomach tense up as she felt Katie's body shift and contract around her. Empathy was giving her just a taste of what it would be like for her when she returned, and she already wanted to escape it.

She began to withdraw her hand against the tightening grip of Katie's body. It felt tight and stuck. She began to pull harder.

"no, NO!" Katie suddenly screamed. "Stay in. STAY IN. STAY. IN!"

Stevie was confused. She looked up to meet her patient's eye and saw a glare and a fury that told her she couldn't move a muscle.

"I am NOT birthing you right now!" she snapped. "STAY THERE!"

Stevie could only nod as Katie winced again and pulled the bedsheet tight to her body with her free hand.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargggggggghhhh!" the patient howled.

Stevie's hand was crushed and squeezed as the wave of contractions passing around it peaked with an impossibly high crest. She gasped as she thought her hand might be crushed by the power of this woman's body.

She winced as she felt her own stomach tighten again in sympathy for what Katie was going through. The pair of them breathed and panted through pains of their own. Then, as quickly as it had grown, the wave began to fall again. The vice-like grip on her hand was released and she could finally ease herself free with a great sigh of relief.

Katie caught her breath too. Muttering a barely audible "thank you" as Stevie slid herself out from a less-powerful grip.

Anne was pleased. Things were progressing along nicely and she imagined both of her women were getting immense rewards from their experience here.

"Well, I think you too have got it from here, I'll be back in a little while to check on you both,"

Anne winked at Stevie and began to walk out of the room.

"W-w-wait, what" Stevie stuttered.

"You take care of Katie here, keep an eye on those contractions and I'll be back in a little while, but you can buzz if you need me"

Anne pointed to a doorbell that hung on the wall above the bed, turned on her heels, and left.

Stevie felt a cold wave travel through her again. She wanted to run after her, plead with her, beg her to stay. She had no idea how to look after a woman in labour and was still terrified of what she might find out if she did.

By the time she found her voice to call after her, Anne was already gone. It was just her, alone in the room with the couple going through their first birth. Two pregnant women—one of them terrified of birth.

To Stevie's growing horror, Katie was already panting as a new wave of contractions built up inside her.

Katie laboured with the attendance of her husband and apprentice midwife for what felt like endless hour after endless hour. Waves of contractions broke through her with an agonising grip as both Stevie and Sam poured everything they had into comforting the poor woman through an ordeal none of them would wish on anybody.

Time blurred into a haze of agony and effort as waves of contractions came and went and she took various positions in bed to help ease its passage. Stevie could feel her level of care and her compassion grow with every minute she spent at Katie's side. She began to time out her contractions, almost to the second and could confidently measure how far dilated she'd gotten—eight at last count.

The pangs of sympathy pain that Stevie kept experiencing before were only growing with her compassion and sympathy, however. For every ten contractions, Katie was feeling one of her own in some kind of twisted sisterhood solidarity. Perhaps she had too much empathy, she thought, as she suffered through another alongside her patient.

Unwelcome interruptions, Stevie was more than ready to put a halt to them to get through the rest of the day and go home. Doing nothing to ease her mind about her own labour to come, they only solidified her resolve that she could not do this herself.

Perhaps, she thought, she could ask Anne for something to help put a stop to them today when she comes back. Not worth ringing the buzzer for, but she'd have to get on top of it soon.

By now, Katie was screaming at ear-shattering volume every 90 seconds or so. If Anne wasn't going to arrive with that noise going on, when was she going to come?

"Can't you do something?!" Sam yelled as Katie clawed at his arm, swung her fist into the bed and pulled at the sheets.

"I'm sorry!" Stevie shouted back. "I—I wish I could! Katie! You're doing great! Just keep breathing for me sweetie!"

If Katie had heard her then she showed no outward signs of reacting. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her breathing sporadic and intertwined with moans of agony.

Stevie's own body was now mirroring Katie's. A tight, gripping contraction took hold of her abdomen as she tried in vain to comfort her patient.

she reached out and gripped hold of the bed frame herself, breathing in long steady breaths as she fought to keep her trembling knees under her and her body upright. Sympathy pains were no joke, she thought to herself. She badly needed something to put a halt to them and focus now.

"I HAVE TO PUSH!" Katie roared in a deep, booming voice that caught Stevie off-guard.

"What?! Oh no no no! it's not time yet!" Stevie replied, increasingly thinking of pressing the buzzer as a matter of dire urgency. "Just hold on and we'll get you checked out and see where you are"

"I. HAVE. TO. PUSH" Katie replied. "I'M NOT ASKING!"

Stevie's stomach dropped, what now? Before she had a chance to reach for the buzzer, Anne came gliding through the door, seemingly unconcerned. Stevie didn't know if she'd come because she'd heard or on some kind of midwifery instinct.

"Now then, how are we doing in here?" Anne asked in a calm, flat tone.

"I think Katie wants to begin pushing soon" Stevie replied.

"I AM PUSHING!" Katie screamed over her. "NOW!!"

Stevie was startled but Anne was entirely un-phased. "Ok, sweetheart, let's get you into position first, shall we?"

She pulled at a metal lever attached to the bed and two stirrups emerged from the frame.

"Shouldn't you check her first too?" Stevie asked.

"and will you be the one to tell her not to push if she's only nine and a half?" Anne replied with a laugh.

The heavy metal stirrups clunked into place. Two footholds were raised high above the patient at the foot of the bed. Stevie helped Anne to steer Katie's legs into place as the poor girl panted and fought not to bear down against an intense pressure rising up within her.

"Good girl," Anne yelled above Katie's heavy panting.

Stevie felt another pang deep inside her stomach and grabbed at her side. It felt as if her own pains were getting more intense, but she would feel ridiculous complaining within earshot of her dearly suffering patient.

"Anne, I—I," she managed to stutter out before a deep, full-bodied roar informed both women that Katie was beginning to push.

"HNnnnnnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhARGHHHHhhhhh!" Katie groaned as her head curled forward and her face scrunched tight.

Anne turned to Stevie as their patient was beginning the final stage of her labour. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Stevie replied. She couldn't imagine complaining about just cramps now.

"Good, come on, get in here," Anne said, wheeling a tall metal stool to the foot of Katie's bed. Stevie did as instructed, taking the seat in front of her patient.

From here, Katie's feet towered high above her head to the left and the right. Her enormous belly looked like a dome-shaped hill approaching over the horizon in front of her. Above it, like a setting sun, the beet-red face of the woman she was here to care for was straining and howling in searing agony.

Was this what it was like? For everyone? Was it supposed to be her in that bed exposed to a new apprentice in just a few weeks?

She allowed her mind to drift to that scenario. She thought again about how close it seemed to medieval torture. She imagined herself lying in this bed now. Her own voice ringing in her ears, as she found herself screaming in agony, just like Katie.

Imagining what she could do to escape, when the pain and the effort got all too much, she came up with nothing. After all, what could she do for Katie here and now? There was no escape she could offer her and there'd be no escape for herself when the time came around.

The only thing she could do for Katie was to push her through, to lean into that agony, embrace it, suffer through it and aim to reach the other side. One day, it would be all she could do for herself too.

She didn't have to imagine too long to get a feel for what that might be like. As if aware of the thoughts racing through her mind, her stomach cramped again with an intensity and suddenness that took her by surprise.

She wanted to double over, to hold her belly and close her eyes until this one passed just like the last. But Anne was watching her now, and here she was, sat at the foot of the bed expected to bring this patient through her labour while she could barely control the pangs of agony she kept experiencing.

Instead, she poured her energy, anger, and frustration into Katie's labouring efforts.

"Come on, that's it!" she yelled, louder than she would have intended. "push, push PUSH!!"

Anne was impressed. The quiet wallflower she'd met a few hours ago was matching decibels and intensity with her labouring patient. Not only had she come out of her shell—she seemed to be relishing the process too.

Katie gasped for breath at the end of another excruciating push and Stevie directed her straight into the next.

"That's it, grab a breath and give me another great big push down while we've still got that contraction!"

Katie did. Wrapping her hands just behind her knees, she took in another gulp of air and curled herself up and around her enormously swollen belly.

"Yes! Yes! That's it!" Stevie yelled.

She watched as Katie's stomach appeared to rebel against her with every contraction and convulsion. Stretching tall and then wide, and then tall again—her stomach made all kinds of shapes and figures as the pair fought a battle that neither side could win. Poor thing, Stevie thought.

"Yes Katie! Yes! You're doing it! Keep that coming for me! Just like that!"

With Katie's contractions still coming on strong and fast, Stevie directed her through pushing against each and every one with an increasing ferocity and anger. Every time she pushed Stevie could see just that little bit more effort, that little bit more traction, and a lot more progress. But her strength and her energy were both beginning to wane.

"I can't!" Katie gasped at the end of a particularly intense trio of pushes. "I can't do it, it won't budge!"

Anne was ready to intervene. Her experience and her patience was often her greatest asset here, but Stevie stepped up before she even had a chance.

"Of course, you can Katie, look how far we've come already, we're so nearly there! You're doing so so good! Just the final stage to go" Stevie reassured her. "We're in this together now, and we're going to get through it"

Neither Katie nor Anne could know how literally she meant it. For every four contractions of Katie's, Stevie was suffering intense cramping of her own. Anne watched as Stevie clutched at her stomach while guiding Katie through some particularly intense contractions.

She thought little of it. Many women in Stevie's position turn their minds to their own babies as they meet with women meeting theirs. Then, it happened again. In the middle of another intense contraction and pushing effort, Stevie almost doubled over in pain, wincing and holding her belly as Katie pushed.

"You're doing great Katie, we're going to be seeing this baby in no time!" Anne said as she drew closer to Stevie.

"Honey, are you…?" she asked in a quiet, tone. She didn't want to draw attention from Katie or Sam.

"What? No!" Stevie replied. "Well, I've been… I don't know!"

Stevie felt like she was admitting the truth to herself as she admitted it to Anne. This could be it.

"It's… it's been a few hours…"

"Oh, my god" Anne replied/ "Why didn't you say anything?!"

Before she could reply, another contraction crashed through her. Admitting how intense they were really getting now, she grabbed at her stomach and moaned out in pain. Anne put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her belly. s

"Honey, we've got to get you to a ward," she told her. "We'll get you taken care of down the hall"

"What?! No!" Stevie replied, surprising herself as well as Anne. "I've got to take care of Katie, I think I can begin to see the head a little with each effort. It can't be long. At least let me be here for the delivery"

"Stevie, you're in labour! That would be insane" Anne replied. "I'm a senior midwife, usually I go from one patient to two, not from one to four! How would I explain that"

"I'm in the early stages of labour in a maternity ward," Stevie smiled. "What's crazy about that? Isn't that why it's here?"

Anne put up light protest, but Stevie continued. "It's my first baby, once Katie's delivered and we're done here I'll go get checked out straight away, I promise"

Still unsure of even what she was agreeing to, Anne didn't have the power or the strength to argue while trying to look after two labouring women at once.

"Fine, we'll keep you here but I'll be keeping a close eye" she replied.

"Of course" Stevie smiled.

In truth, she knew she needed the distraction. She needed something to do, someone to focus on, and to keep her mind on anything but the consistently growing pain that was building within her hips. Katie's labour, she thought, was the perfect antidote to hers.

"Come on now Katie, big big push with that next contraction, that baby is ready to come, lets get him moving down now"

Katie obliged with another mighty heave that brought everything she had to bear against the mass making its way down out of her body.

"I can see it! I can see the head Katie!" Stevie screamed in excitement. "Keep it coming for me! Let me see more of that head make its way down!"

"Heeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhh!" Katie's voice seemed to echo louder through the room now, something Stevie took as a good sign they were getting closer to the end.

"Is it coming?" Katie gasped out at the end of her biggest push yet. "Is it moving?!"

"It's coming!" Stevie confirmed. "I can see a little more of the head with every big push, just keep those big efforts coming for me and he's going to be here in no time at all!"

Stevie smiled with a reassurance comfort, but also steeled herself against another onslaught building inside. Reaching out to grab the frame of the bed, her fingers curled around the cold metal post and her hands gripped tight as she felt her belly tighten in agony.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhieeeeee" she moaned as quietly as she could.

Was this really happening? Was she really in the depths of labour herself? Already?

She had no idea if she even wanted to embark on this journey ever, but she certainly knew she wasn't ready now. She had to hold back as long as she could. She could barely handle the journey of delivering one baby today, she couldn't begin to imagine having to push put her own.

Time to focus, she told herself. Regather her thoughts and help Katie deliver, then she could think about what she'd do next.

She took a deep breath, still holding the metal bed frame, and instructed Katie to push again, really giving it everything she had now. Stevie wanted Katie's baby out almost as much as Katie did.

"Good! Good Katie! That's it! Yes YES!"

With every effort Katie put in, Stevie could see more and more of the head beginning to emerge. Growing from the size of a small coin, it was rapidly starting to emerge.

"What do I do?!" She asked Anne as every push caused her vulva to bulge outwards as the pressure of the head bore down through the birth canal.

"Place your right hand to the side of the head there," Anne instructed. The circle of hair forming with every effort was beginning to resemble the shape of a teardrop as it grew.

"Good, that's perfect, now place your left hand on the other side, good, just like that. I want you to apply gentle counter-pressure against the weight as the head comes down to meet you, just guide it and it'll go how it needs to"

Stevie's hands were poised against both sides of the head as Katie's body bulged down into them and pressed against her fingertips. The power and the sensations were surprising as Katie bore down into her.

With some effort required, she held back the pressure of Katie's efforts against the tips of her fingers as the head moved a little further down between her hands. Each push felt like a monumental effort and came with a strength that Stevie wasn't sure she even had in her.

In that moment, another contraction hit her and she cried out in agony alongside Katie's groans. Her own labour was progressing at pace now, contractions coming as often now for her as they were for her patient.

"Are you OK?!" Katie managed to ask between pushing efforts.

"Yes! Yes! Probably just Braxton" Stevie replied, beginning to pant. "I'm fine. Just. keep. pushing!"

Katie did as instructed and barrelled straight into another strong effort.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh!"

"Good..G—GOOD!" Stevie encouraged her.

The next contraction was already barrelling down on top of the last and what she could no longer ignore was the immense sensation of pressure bearing down inside her. She knew what Katie meant now when she said she had to push. She was just barely clinging on to hold things together herself.

She carefully slipped off the stools she was perched on. She could no longer comfortably sit, or stand without rocking and shifting her hips.

Instead, she took a half-standing half squatting position at the foot of Katie's bed. Shifting her hips from side to side seemed to help her through her next contraction.

Anne saw what she was doing and immediately knew that things were more advanced than she'd said. But now, with her hands poised on Katie and in such a late stage of delivery, there was little she could do to stand in her away.

"AIeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! IT'S TOO BIG. IT'S TOO BIG!" Katie yelled, unaware that hers wasn't the only drama happening at the foot of the bed. "I'M STRETCHING SO FAR"

"I've. Got. You." Stevie managed between laboured breaths. "You're stretching beautifully! Just keep pushing for me and we're going to get this baby delivered!"

"I CAN'T!" Katie replied.

"Listen, LISTEN," Stevie shouted, suddenly finding the sternest voice she had ever used in her life. "You CAN do this! It's not far now! We can do this together! I just need you to take a deep breath in and PUSH as hard as you can and I need you to do it NOW"

Taken aback, Katie did exactly as instructed. Giving the largest, most productive, and most convincing push so far. The teardrop was now a dome emerging from her body. Still growing in size, Stevie didn't have the spare capacity to encourage her on as she swore and sweated through her own agony with her hands still poised for Katie.

With every push her patient produced, Stevie began bearing down too. Enough, just, to relieve some of the pressure and feel like she was at least doing something.

"HNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhAAAAAAAAAaAhh" Katie growled as she bore down into her hands.

Stevie pushed too, with a quieter more controlled effort as she stood at Katie's bed."Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

"Arghhhhh it's coming! It's coming!" Katie screamed

The head pushed its way through and strained into Stevie's hands. She tried holding it tight but struggled to maintain composure amidst her own labouring efforts. She closed her eyes, focused on the baby emerging out under the tips of her fingers and tried to ignore, for the time being, the one bearing down through her body.

"Come on baby, come on baby" she muttered under her breath. Urging one to slow down and the other to speed up. Caught between two worlds.

The experience felt so entirely surreal that she barely had a chance to focus on the agony that wrapped around her body. She continued to push and, as she pushed, Katie's baby was quickly emerging into her hands. She felt as if the two of them were labouring together now as one.

"keep pushing honey!" is what she wanted to scream. Yet, she found that she didn't have the power or the focus to make the words come.

Katie, however, could do nothing else but push. She screamed and shrieked as the head emerged to its widest point and Stevie repositioned her hands to support its heavy weight. She was holding it now, still emerging from within Katie's lips she held the weight in her hands.

With one more heave, the head emerged with a sudden gush of fluids. Katie, relieved, collapsed back into the bed for brief respite.

Stevie, however, was only getting started. Her knees trembled under her as one contraction after another seemed to sap her strength away. Anne jumped into action, first supporting the weight of Stevie's body and then examining her latest apprentice to see how much time they had to work with. It wasn't much.

"Stevie, you're crowning!" She shouted. The head was already at the tips of Anne's fingers and ready to emerge at seemingly any moment.

"no, I can't be, I have to deliver… AHhhhhhhhh!!" Another contraction rocked through her and she found herself desperate to push again for the slightest sliver of relief. With her arms supporting Katie and this baby, however, she knew she could scarcely shift an inch.

"Katie. you. have. to. push" Stevie struggled out through tortured breaths. "We have to. Delver. the shoulders…. please…."

Tears formed in Katie's eyes. "I can't! it hurts so bad!"

Stevie locked her eyes on hers. Sweat poured off her brow and every part of her body seemed to tremble.

"Katie, I know… urghhhhh… I know, but We have got to get this baby out now. We need this. I need this! Now PUSH!!"

The last syllable impacted with a strength that only a woman bearing down on a birth of her own could ever replicate. Katie knew what was still left to do.

She grabbed behind her knees, curled her body around her stomach and heaved down with her teeth grit tight and her face contorted in agony.

For a second there was nothing. No movement at all. Stevie thought her heart would sink through her chest as Anne held her in place.

Katie felt it too. The pain was intense as it was before and the weight seemed stuck fast as she bore down against it. "PULL IT OUT! PLEASE! OWWWWwww PULL IT OUT!!!"

"PUSH KATIE!! PUSHHHHH" Stevie screamed. Quickly, she felt something again. The head began to work free in her hands, moving just at first before picking up speed and finally gushing forward into the world where Stevie caught him.

"AieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

Katie collapsed once again into the bed while Stevie held the baby.

"Now, let's get you into bed" Anne announced, but Stevie shot back fast. "NO"

"I… I can't move… just.. let me push.."

"OK," Anne knew better than to argue. "Just do what you've got to do"

Wrapping the baby in one arm, Stevie held firm to the bed with the other. Taking a deep breath in she steeled herself for the pain to come and pushed with everything she had in her.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" she wailed.

"Yes, that's it! push push PUSH!" Anne encouraged her with her hands poised on either side ready to catch.

Slowly she felt her body stretch and shift itself around an enormous head. For seconds at a time she felt as if she might split in two, but she kept heaving downwards with every bit of her remaining strength.

"Come on! You've got this!" Katie yelled, now sitting up on her elbows. "Keep that push coming, this is it! This is what it's all about!"

She was right. Stevie thought. She was doing it, what had seemed impossible just hours before, birthing her baby, was now within her grasp. But she knew there was an immense agony to suffer first to get there.

A ring of fire seared up from within her and Stevie knew this was the moment to give it everything. She regrouped and refocused, screwed her eyes shut tight and pushed down hard.

The head, already sliding down, began to pick up pace. Stretching out through her body, she thought there was no more she could do. Agony radiated upwards through her as pressure pulled downward from within. Soon, pressure won out and the head shot free from her body followed by the shoulders in one fluid motion.

The relief, joy, and exhilaration pulsing through her body were almost intoxicating.

Both Katie and Anne cheered. Handing Stevie's baby to her, Anne commented on the apprentice that appeared to take her lessons to heart.

"It's not every day they're as eager as you when they come" she smiled.

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