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#and then they play this music that is awful but they still listen to it because 'well they are lesbians' LMFAAOOOOO GOTTA LOVE THIS SHOW
sitp-recs · 3 days
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Hi Liv, what are your favourite “they finally kissed” scenes
Thank you
Hi anon! Oh I love this ask, I’m such a sucker for first kiss scenes 🤌🏼 Here are some that live rent free in my head, all these fics are masterclasses in anticipation/payoff. Highly recommend!
Here’s the Pencil, Make it Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)
"I think you're so fit, Harry Potter. I meant that about the snow suiting you. You've got really lovely eyes."
"Oh," says Harry, heart kick starting again, pounding hard in his chest.
"Tell me a secret back," says Malfoy, fingers reaching out to, inexplicably, turn Harry's head towards him and touch his scar. Malfoy's fingers are touching him so gently, and he's smiling in his silly lopsided way, and he thinks Harry's fit with lovely eyes. Harry's drunk, and he wants him so much.
"I want you," he whispers.
"Oh," says Malfoy. His eyes flick to Harry's lips, and then back up to his eyes.
Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)
Draco’s still laughing when he steps closer. “The first kiss is important,” he says. “It’s how we’ll know if we’re… compatible.” He lifts his hand, slides it along the soft, sensitive skin just under Harry’s jaw, into Harry’s hair. He tugs, gently, pulling Harry’s head back just a fraction.
“It might be awful,” Harry says, trying for solemn, but even he can hear the low gritty sound of need in his own voice. “This might all be a huge mistake.”
Draco’s fingers tighten in Harry’s hair, and he leans in. “It might be awful,” he agrees, and Harry clutches at him then, digs his fingers into the clean tapering lines of his hips. Through Draco’s shirt, he can feel the solid shift of muscle as Draco shivers under his hands.
“It’s not going to be awful,” Harry says, and Draco answers low and desperate, “It’s going to be so fucking good.”
The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)
Draco had his hand gripped tight in Harry’s hair. “Why did you come?” he demanded again. He shut his eyes and shuddered as Harry moved on him, and then dragged his head down and kissed him. He held their foreheads together: they were sweating despite the chill, bodies straining against each other. “Why did you come to me?” he said again, a murmur, going low and almost tender, and Harry groaned against the bare skin of his shoulder and gave up the true answer, the one fighting to come out of him. “You’re my king,” he said, raw, and Draco breathed out one long satisfied sigh, shuddering beneath him.
Little Compton Street by @writcraft (E, 65k)
The strains of music filter into the space around them and Harry tips his head, listening. The smile on his face widens. “I’ve been speaking to the DJ. I wanted them to play a song, that’s why I came looking for you.”
“What song?” Even as he asks the question, Draco already knows the answer.
“Life on Mars.” Harry puts his hand on the wall next to Draco’s head, his gaze dropping to Draco’s lips. “Bowie.”
By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)
Malfoy was desperate for this kiss, Harry realized. He had been desperate for it forever, if those things he had said were true—those things about his cells and his Pensieve and living on just a glance for weeks—and weeks—Harry gave it to him. He wanted to give him everything. He wanted to reach down inside of Malfoy with his tongue and hands and body and take away sad memories of loving and not being loved, replaced them with memories of this kiss. Harry didn’t regret not having loved Malfoy earlier; he only regretted the pain those memories must hold for Malfoy.
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foursaints · 1 day
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currently can’t stop thinking about dj barty doing sets in shitty underground clubs and playing the most god awful remixes of obscure post-punk with evan in the booth behind him sitting cross-legged on a speaker or something and looking somehow both entirely out of place and like he was sent from the heavens to be there. and he’s not even drinking or really listening to the music he’s just watching barty’s hands move over the decks completely unaware that when the strobe lights hit him he’s causing half the people in the crowd to think they’re having hallucinations that angels have started to come to earth, because everything from his shirt to the too-white whites of his eyes are glowing so brightly under the light that he literally has a halo. but anyway barty’s just zoned out playing off-beat bauhaus mixes till there are blisters on his fingers and occasionally glancing back at him to check he’s still there. etc etc.
they sleep during the day, in a one-bedroom with black mold & peeling wallpaper, to come alive at night. if you ask barty how he met evan, he'll laugh and tell you he fell from the sky right into his lap. barty used to steal credit cards from the purses of the girls he took home, and now he pawns the lost phones he finds after his shows, buys evan a popsicle on his walk home. feeds him from his palm, pets his head, and clicks his tongue to beckon him all like a stray cat. you can watch him weaving through crowds heading up the booth, evan mutely clutching his sleeve, shielding evan with his body.
bartoloměj always looks like he's trying to kill himself slowly, dresses like he doesn't exist outside the scene, chipped his front tooth clean in half with his tongue piercing. he's always got that Thing shadowing him (his little angel), who dresses like a schoolchild and doesn't speak, pay rent, dance, or do much of anything but stare. he's terrifying. whenever barty takes anything, evan obediently sticks his tongue out, expecting half (when barty spins out he always clutches evan's shoulders, asks: are you alright, rosie? are you alright?, even though evan is the one who's fine). barty loves the music. evan doesn't like any music much at all, but he appreciates the science of it, memorizes barty's hands. everyone knows they're together, but no-one asks if they're married or dating or anything. it's more like barty has a shadow, and they're going to live forever, a pair.
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mrsnancywheeler · 3 days
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can’t help but wonder what daisy has to say about billy and his muse… hmm. i feel like she’d have some words about muse’s age, how young she is, and since she’s always starting fights with billy to begin with i can’t imagine it would do poor muse any good. i think daisy would feel some sort of kinship with her because of their shared experiences with absent parents and getting into bad situations with people older than them, i just don’t believe she would handle it responsibly 💀 wanting to help muse develop her own sound and come into herself musically outside of billy dunne and the rest of the band turns into holing up at daisy’s place for days on end and getting ridiculously high together. and i doubt billy would be too happy with his girl showing up completely strung out after vanishing off the face of the earth for a week either. hanging out with daisy feels good but frequently makes things worse instead of better. they’re so interesting i love thinking about them
I'm literally sat for this, I've been thinking about this since it was sent it and need to doscuss with y'all
okay so timeline wise I imagine muse met billy when they were still just the six but like after they'd gained some fame. obviously in this universe there's no camilla, I'd never hurt my girl more, and so billy is just a ticking time bomb of fame and ego and all of his dreams. and he's good but not as good as he thinks he is so when teddy has the idea to give an edge to the six by a collaboration with daisy jones he's still obviously very pissed but now muse is there too, there relationship is probably like 6 months old or so.
and daisy is changing lyrics, she brings so much energy into the studio, she's fun, and muse is young and I think instantly drawn to the magnetic field of daisy jones. kind of in awe of daisy which billy can't fathom because he's too busy being miffed about the whole ordeal. and in this version look at us now is about muse and billy, and daisy see's right through the original lyrics and her changes make muse feel more seen. so she listens to billy bitch and moan but secretly agrees.
and muse definitely pushes for daisy to be in the band, "billy's an ass, but everyone thinks you should join. he'll get over it eventually and realize."
and daisy is just open and honest about her thoughts right off the bat, "why do you stay with him? if he's an ass, then why?"
and muse is taken aback but also honest back because it feels right, "I don't want anyone else. not the way I want him."
daisy does get to join the band and with that she learns a lot more about muse and billy, more to dislike about the arrangement. muse is so young and attached, the only other person she turns to is eddie who obviously also wants to be with her, and daisy feels like any spark that muse has is quelled to play cheerleader for billy. and she respects that muse doesn't want to be a star but she tells her to write, or to talk and daisy will cultivate the ideas.
daisy definitely gets involved in a couple of fights that muse and billy have. "plenty of groupies to go around, don't need one wasting my goddamn time"
"don't fucking talk to her like that!"
"daisy-" you're trying to deescalate because you knows daisy and billy just make the fight worse.
"she's a person, a child, not something you get to call whatever you want when you're pissed off." daisy's turning to you, "c'mon let's go get some air, away from this asshole."
"you can't just walk out of rehearsal, daisy!" billy's calling after but you let daisy guide you.
"watch me!" and you and daisy are sitting outside, she's handing you some pill that you barely question before taking.
"you know, it's okay, it's just the way it is. no reason to fight more because of it."
"no, it's not okay. you know just because he's older and gives you what you crave doesn't mean you need him, right?"
you pause, "I know." you sigh, "daisy, I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself, I know what's going on."
"sure you do, chickadee." and suddenly it's like something lights within her and she's searching her pockets for a paper of napkin, "do you have something to write with?" and she ends up scribbling something you're not allowed to see on a napkin with your lipstick. eventually she makes it a song about you. and then your though and frustrations eventually become many many more songs.
and once during one of the breaks where they've got some time rather than muse spending time with billy she goes to hang out with daisy, which ends up being the whole of the break. she's with daisy, screaming out every frustration into metaphors daisy is scribbling out as they dance around to records taking every pill daisy can get hands on, lines off every surface, so many bottles completely empty. and whenever you just want to call billy or sometimes eddie, daisy totally encourages against it because, "you don't need them!" and when it's finally time to go back to the studio daisy has started to realize she handles highs terribly but better than you, who's not used to taking nearly as much as daisy does.
once they're stepping out of that taxi, billy's first words quickly form from a, "where the hell were you?" to a , "what is she on?" hands softly gripping your face, looking into her eyes, knowing you're gonna feels like crap later. and he's gonna end up nursing you out of a bender, daisy's kind of scared that you were so out of it by the end. so it creates another conflict when she's saying billy is horrible to you and billy brings up how she usually gets you too high to function.
let me know y'all's thoughts bc I'm definitely already cooking up more
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man so many people don't realise just how much comfort and wisdom we can find in history - generic ass history - just as regular people day to day. maybe I'm biased because of my job and it probably sounds like propaganda coming from me lol, but in These Difficult Times history is my first and greatest source of reassurance. every time I'm on the verge of panicking because I'm pretty sure this is the end of the world, I remember that people have been sure they were witnessing the end of the for thousands of years, and the world is still here. I look back at every crisis of the past - the fall of Rome, the world wars, famines and floods galore - and here we are, alive, looking back on 'the end of everything' as a distant human memory.
I walk around my village and look at the old houses where the poor used to live, and the not so old houses where the poor live now, and I think - a hundred, three hundred, a thousand years ago, there were people here with the same worries as me: worried about money, about the climate, about the rich and powerful stripping them of their rights. they suffered, they knew loss, they were afraid. but sometimes the church bells rang on a saturday and a young couple were cheered through the churchyard, excited to start a life together. an overworked and underpaid quarryman hauled his aching bones to the pub and shared a drink and a laugh with his friends, and halved his problems. a woman lay awake all night wondering whether that law would pass in parliament, what it would mean for her daughters, and then the sun rose warm and beautiful, and she got up, cut herself a piece of bread, and sat outside her cottage bathing in the light and listening to the dawn chorus, and she closed her eyes and smiled. the last thursday of October everyone put on their favourite hats and went out to see the ponies at the fair, and danced into the night. someone said 'help me, I dont know what to do', and somebody else said, 'I can take care of that for you.' they struggled, they found the light and they lived.
all the awful things happening now have happened before, and we have endured. the sun still rises, the bells still ring, the music still plays, the people are still here. our predecessors hand their memories to us through the ages: this is what happened last time. this is how we survived. it was hard, it hurt, and not everyone made it, but enough of us did. and we smiled, we laughed, we knew joy. you can do it. they can't keep us down. life will continue to live.
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crunchchute · 1 month
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Sam and Max if they were cool /j
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oysters-aint-for-me · 8 months
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i’m watching this old black and white western movie (or tv show, not sure which—i’m taking care of my grandma and it’s on tv) and the Woman (there is only one, as is typical for westerns) is terrified because her father is lost in a cave filled with “vampires”…i was like wow, a fantasy horror cowboy vampire picture?! seems quite ahead of it’s time for an old western, this is awesome.
turns out they’re talking about vampire bats. i’m pretty disappointed tbh. both because of the bat slander and because of the lack of vampires. major bummer!
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running-in-the-dark · 3 months
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just realised something random: I've always been kinda sad that there isn't any media that my parents liked and shared with me, that sort of thing. I know of things that they like, of course, but it was never something they showed me or anything.
and I just realised that's because it was never something nice, something fun, something they wanted to share - no, they only ever brought up things that they liked as a way to say that everything I liked was bad.
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day 137 - a song you love but can’t bring yourself to listen to (you fill in the reason)
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anakinh · 1 month
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i should be allowed to hunt moogles for sport
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slytherinslut0 · 5 months
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jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons
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author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.
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-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.
Draco Malfoy.
Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.
“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”
Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.
Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.
“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.
His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.
He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.
“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”
He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.
Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.
“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”
He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.
“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”
Blaise Zabini.
Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.
When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.
This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.
He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.
You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.
After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.
“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”
Lorenzo Berkshire.
Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.
Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.
Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.
His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.
You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.
He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.
“Who was that guy, darling?”
You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.
“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”
He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”
You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”
Mattheo Riddle.
“Who the fuck-“
Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.
You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.
You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.
Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.
You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,
“Is this fucker bothering you?”
Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.
“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“
He’d heard more than enough.
“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”
Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:
“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”
Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.
And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.
When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”
You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.
Theodore Nott.
He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.
Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-
Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.
Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.
Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.
His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.
He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.
“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”
As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.
Tom Riddle.
“AVADA KEDA-“
Lowkey kidding but not really.
No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.
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starryserenade · 6 months
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Lol trying to create a mock soundtrack for a thing to help me plan out things/get a general emotional vibe going, and of course lol, I do end up back at freaking Star Wars cause freaking John Williams xD
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omgeto · 8 months
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☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU
summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.
wc: 3k
cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI
an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.
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as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.
and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.
he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.
"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.
"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."
geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."
your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"
he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."
with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.
"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.
his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.
you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.
geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."
“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”
"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."
you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.
with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."
he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."
you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.
with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.
"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 
geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 
his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.
"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.
“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.
“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”
“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.
he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.
as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 
“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.
“what type of pain?” you retort.
“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.
“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”
geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.
a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."
with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.
he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.
as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.
"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.
you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."
geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."
“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”
“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”
you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 
“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”
“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”
“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.
“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”
“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.
“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.
“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”
“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 
he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.
geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 
he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.
“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”
“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”
“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.
“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”
before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 
“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”
you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 
“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.
“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.
with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.
geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”
“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ��promise.”
“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 
with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.
your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.
“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”
“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.
“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.
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AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS
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weirdmageddon · 2 months
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my friend came up with some jigsaw shit last night and im speechless
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alt text:
the smosh babies challenge
the challenge where you need to watch every episode of smosh babies within 24 hours
**you may**
- watch with friends who are also taking the smosh babies challenge. this may only be done over the phone or a voice call so you dont accidentally divert your attention from smosh babies during the challenge. while there is no limit on how many friends you can take the challenge with, managing your group and ensuring that nobody cheats makes the challenge significantly more difficult and is not recommended. the ideal group is 2-4 people
- take up to 3 breaks of any desired length
- eat while watching
-play with cards during breaks
- be creative during breaks (drawing, writing, singing, etc.)
**you may not**
- call anyone NOT doing the smosh babies challenge with you. the only voices you will hear during the challenge are the voices of those participating, and the voice cast of smosh babies. texting during breaks is still allowed.
- go on post-based social media until every episode has been completed. no tumblr. no twitter. nothing like that. this extends to public discord servers too. the only use case for social media is instant messaging apps to text people directly and stay in contact with the person youre executing the challenge with. if someone sends you a video, youre not allowed to watch it. you also cannot conspire to get your social media fix by asking people to send you screenshots. being in cahoots and trying to outsmart the system is considered cheating.
- be "desynced" with your friend taking the challenge. you must both be watching the same episodes at the same time. preferably using a screen sharing system or watch together app
- consume any sort of media during breaks or during the 24 hours the challenge is in session
- have other tabs or music open. no texting friends while smosh babies is in progress. you are allowed to text people during breaks. the only exception to the music rule is that you are permitted to listen to music during a 1 of your 3 breaks. it is highly recommended that you use your music break when you go to sleep. if you need to leave to go to the store or do something during a break and music is playing, that is ok. however, you are not to have any influence or control over said music. no loopholes
- draw or entertain yourself otherwise while smosh babies is on in the background. **you must pay attention to each and every episode of smosh babies. do not look for any sort of loopholes**
- skip the credits. drawing during the credits IS allowed, but ONLY if youre drawing the smosh babies. they must recognizably be smosh babies. no complicated abstractions or jumps in artistic logic to avoid drawing smosh babies. once the credits are over, you must" stop drawing. i personally recommend you use this time to draw as fast as you possibly can
- watch the episodes out of order
- watch the episodes at a faster speed
every episode must be watched to completion within the 24 hour timeframe
the challenge is officially over once every episode has been watched. your reward is a sinking feeling
and if you cheated, i hope you feel genuinely awful. the smosh babies challenge is a commitment. if you could only win by cheating, i need you to know that it was all worth nothing. im disappointed in you
for the worthy few
get smosh babying
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sinfulpanda16 · 3 months
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JJK Men x Foreign Reader
Gojo Saturo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto x gn reader
For the most part, you and your bf live everyday life through his culture. So how would he react if he sees a glimpse of yours?
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You two were doing origami together, you were making a cute swan and he was making you a flower. It was such a cute moment the two of you laughing and him occasionally giving you a few quick pecks on your face and then you get a phone call.
You look at the number "Oh it's my mom." you say smiling at your phone.
Gojo smiles "Oh it's my future mother-in-law! Go ahead and answer I'll be patient." he says giving you a smirk.
You blush and answer the call. Gojo listens to you as you say hello in your native language. You two only speak to each other in Japanese so hearing you speak your first language is so rare.
He rests his chin in his palm still listening as you continue to speak. You sound so beautiful. You look beautiful. The way you talk with your mother in her first tongue makes him melt, your voice has a different ring to it due to the different pitches. And that Accent! OMG he's fanboying now.
After the phone call ends you turn to see him looking at you in awe. "What?" you ask giggling.
He smiles "You should speak in (n/l) more often. I think you sound hot as hell." he says enjoying your reaction to that.
Your face grows red. Really? No one has ever told you that and hearing that from him made you appreciate him more because it shows that he loves you for you.
You smile at him and he kisses your cheek again and gives you a paper rose. Then in your language he said "I love you".
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You were laying on the couch just staring into space. It's officially been five years since you've moved to Japan. When you were younger you're dream has always been to move to Japan and you did it. You moved to Japan, grew to live comfortably, made some friends and even met your boyfriend.
However just like everyone else who moves away, you get homesick. You think back to when you were a kid and lived with your family back at home. It seemed so long ago and then you think about the yummy food you and your family would make. You smiled softly to yourself thinking about the nostalgia.
You get up from the couch and go to the kitchen. You checked to see if you had all the ingredients you needed for your favorite dish your grandmother made for as a kid. You do, so you hurried to get started on making (f/d).
As you cooked you realized something was missing. You think about how when your grandmother used to cook she would tell you to turn on her music. You laugh softly "Aww grandma. Even now you still manage to make me play your music." you say to yourself and start playing some, with memories flowing back.
Soon after a tiring day Nanami comes back home, he sighs and takes off his coat. He hears some music coming from the kitchen but then he freezes when he realizes he can't understand it. Then he smells something good, he doesn't know what it is but he'd like to see what it is.
He heads to the kitchen and finds you there. Thats what the smell is, its you're cooking. "Y/n." you turn around to see him. He looked a bit confused, and you smiled. "Hey lover, I'm making (f/d). It's a dish my family back at home eat. Do you want to help?"
Nanami stands there for a moment, he's never tried some of the traditional food from your country or ever heard of the music, buts it's all you. All of it is your blood and honestly, he's loving this side of you. He smiles softly at, "Sure love." he says and pulls his sleeves up so he can help you.
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He's walking to meet up with you. He's not paying attention to much but then he sees you from his peripheral vision. He stops and turn to look at you and you look, wow.
You stand out from the rest, you really do. He's proof lol every time someone see's you they can't help but to admire you. Geto stood there looking at you smirking.
You're (h/t) (h/c) hair is beautiful and your (s/c) skin looks so soft and delicate. You were talking to two other women who were actually asking about you and where you're from. They seemed genuinely interested and curious about your culture. The way you spoke Japanese in the cutest accent made Geto let out a chuckle. It was just too cute.
It's funny because it's obvious that you're not from around here and yet you have such a way of making the people here adore you. They complement your eyes, your voice, or your hair. If he had to pick his favorite would be your eyes. Such a beautiful color and shape. Damn, you're gorgeous he thinks to himself.
You turn to see Geto is already here. With an excited smile you say your goodbyes to the two women and head to him. "Hi my love!" you yell as you run towards him.
He smiles "Hey gorgeous" he says with wide arms for you. Yes, that's right this beautiful foreigner is his partner. You jump into his arms, and he picks you up. And this is exactly how he thinks about you every day.
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The first time Toji saw you he was infatuated with you. Even he had to admit you look so beautiful and from there he didn't care. He was gonna make you his.
And he did lol.
He was sitting on the couch on his phone. Endless scrolling of nothing interesting and he started to get bored. He was about to get up but then you enter the living room wearing something he was unfamiliar with.
With a blush on your face you ask, "What do you think love?". He honestly had no idea what you were wearing but it looked cute on you.
"What is it my love?" he asks leaning forward on the couch. You tell him the name and explain to him that it's what the people in your culture wear when there's a certain occasion.
Toji smirks "Do a turn for me beautiful." he orders. Shyly, you obey and do a spin for him. You can't help but giggle when you look at his face. You can tell he approves.
He chuckles "I think it looks beautiful on you" he states. He gets up "But you know..." he makes his way over to you. You start getting uptight, you love his dominance, but you have to admit it's kind of intimidating. Soon he's towering over you. He leans down to your ear "I think it'd look better on the ground by our bed." You shiver and let him pick you up and carry you to the bedroom.
So yeah, he loves you so much and loves learning about your home and its culture.
And bruh, how did they all already know what the word for Daddy was in your language?!
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sp0o0kylights · 22 days
Text
Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4
Part Three: link
First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link
The kid was madder than a wet hen.
Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 
Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 
He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 
The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.
Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  
Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.
They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.
Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.
Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.
Unfortunately, so did Eds. 
Still.
 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best
Gave space.
Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.
Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 
One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 
Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 
‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 
Nope. 
‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 
Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 
‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’
That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 
Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 
Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 
They did not.
He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 
Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  
The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.
Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 
Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 
(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 
They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 
Steve too.)
“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 
Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.
An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 
“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  
Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 
“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 
Likely a lot of things. 
It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 
“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”
 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 
“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 
Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 
Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 
And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 
“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 
“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 
Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.
(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 
“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 
Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 
Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 
“He did.”
“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 
“I did.” 
He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 
Wayne took advantage. 
“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”
Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 
“‘Bout trust.” 
Eddie blinked at that. 
“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 
“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 
“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”
Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 
Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 
“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 
Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 
He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 
“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 
Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 
Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 
“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 
After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.
“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 
That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 
“How long is he staying here?”
Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 
Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 
“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 
Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 
Wayne sat with him as he processed. 
Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 
Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 
“What if he finds out?”  
This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 
It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 
The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 
This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 
Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 
Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.
‘Shit.’ 
“He won’t.” Wayne said. 
Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 
Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 
“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 
Hoped that in the future, it would be.
Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.
(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.
Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)
xXx
Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.
He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.
A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.
He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 
Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.
The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.
(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)
Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.
The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 
Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 
Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 
Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.
‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.
Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 
He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 
Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 
Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.
Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 
Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.
Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.
The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  
Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.
It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 
The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 
Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.
Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 
Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.
Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 
At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 
(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 
That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.
Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.
‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 
“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 
It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 
Wayne rolled his eyes. 
“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 
Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 
“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 
It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.
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secretsofafangirll · 6 days
Text
video star
summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.
warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.
a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.
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"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."
"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.
"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.
"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.
"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.
I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.
"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.
"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.
"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.
"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.
"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.
Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.
"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.
"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."
"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.
"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."
"Loser", Nick teased.
"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."
As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.
I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.
Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.
"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.
What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.
"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.
I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.
"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.
Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.
Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.
Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.
"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.
At least I thought they were yelling at each other...
Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.
"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.
Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.
"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."
"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.
"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.
When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.
"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 
"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.
"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.
"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.
"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.
"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.
"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."
"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.
"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.
I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."
"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.
"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.
"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...
//
author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.
all the love, she <3
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