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beyondthesefourwalls · 11 months

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Marvelous Night for a Moondance

Summary: A date night at a concert in the park has you and Bradley adventuring in ways you hadn’t with each other yet. You had only been dating for a few short months, but he made you feel things you never had before, and it was almost scary how easy it was to picture yourself staying in his arms forever.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: language, public smut (fingering beneath a blanket)

Notes: Not necessary to read RYEWID, but this is part of the The Forgotten Moments collection I have going, showcasing Bradley and Pumpkin’s relationship before his accident. @mak-32 threw the idea about a date night in the park out to me and I couldn’t let go of it, so this one is for you bb💜

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Bradley Bradshaw: How do you feel about going out tonight instead?

You zoomed in on the picture he had attached to the text message, making out a flier for an outdoor concert focusing on 70s and 80s tribute bands that was taking place tonight in the park not too far from your apartment. There would be food trucks and a bar set up, and the event itself was free to the public. The weather was starting to warm up now that spring had begun - it was still cooler at night, but the thought of being outdoors cuddled up against your boyfriend was enough to have you smiling as you typed back.

Meet you there?

Bradley Bradshaw: You’re funny, Pumpkin. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You bit your lip as giddiness washed over you. It was a feeling you were still getting used to. You and Bradley had only met a few months ago, seated together at a singles table at a wedding out of town, but the connection had been instantaneous and had only gotten stronger since then. He made you feel things you never had before - feelings you had really only associated with characters from books or movies and that you never dreamed would happen to you.

You had no idea something like this could be real, but Bradley Bradshaw had proved you wrong in all the best ways.

Can’t wait. See you then, loverboy :)

Before you could even set your phone down and get back to work, it buzzed in your hand again. You laughed as you read his response, shaking your head in amusement.

Bradley Bradshaw: Sure will, baby ;)

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The park was scattered with people sitting at picnic tables or in the grass or on lawn chairs they had brought with them. You and Bradley had arrived after the concert had already started, but had found a patch of grass to spread out in the back, nearly at the park’s edge. The two of you sat together on the blanket he had thought to bring, working your way through the funnel cake from one of the food trucks. Bradley’s jacket was draped across your shoulders and a wildflower from the bouquet of flowers he had arrived with was tucked into your hair, and it was amazing how happy just being around him made you.

“I’ve never seen someone so passionate about a doughnut and powdered sugar before.”

You gasped, feeling genuine offense at his words as you gaped at him. “It’s not a doughnut. It may be within the doughnut family, but a funnel cake is a work of art and in a league of its own, Bradley.”

To emphasize your point, you ripped a piece of the snack off and popped it in your mouth, chewing happily.

Bradley laughed, but you knew it was in amusement and not at your expense. No one had ever looked at you the way he did. His expressions were always so open, portraying everything he was feeling. And right now he was looking at you with a softness you had come to associate only with him.

His eyes flickered down to your lip and he cleared his throat, pointing to your lips. “You have a little something there.”

You went to wipe what you were sure was powdered sugar away, but Bradley leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. There was a smirk on his handsome face when he pulled away. “Got it.”

The night sky was dark and you were far enough back on the lawn that the lights from the stage or that were strung up in some of the trees weren’t close enough to illuminate the two of you. So you didn’t hesitate to swipe up some of the fallen sugar on the paper plate and run it over his mustache. Before he could question what you were doing, you were cupping the side of his face and guiding his head back to yours. You kissed him softly before running your tongue through the hair above his lip, collecting the sweetness you had intentionally put there. The shocked look on his face and his darkened eyes left you more than satisfied with yourself when you pulled away, your smirk just as present as his was.

“You’re trouble,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked just the slightest bit.

“You love it,” you insisted, and with the wink he sent you and the way his eyes sparkled, you knew he wouldn’t disagree.

Bradley set the empty plate to the side to be discarded later, holding open his arms for you. Without a word, you happily crawled to sit between his spread legs. His thighs bracketed you on both sides and even with the additional barrier of his jacket, his chest was warm against your back. He grabbed the other blanket he had brought and draped it over both of your laps before his arms wound around you, holding you close. You couldn’t help but release a content sigh as he kissed your hair and started singing along to the music in your ear.

It was a little crazy how quickly his arms became your favorite place to be, and maybe even crazier that you could already see yourself staying in them for the rest of your life. You snuggled back closer into him at the thought.

You sat quietly for a while as the band played covers of Queen and Hall & Oats. You were too far away to actually see the stage as more than a blur in the distance, but it was nice, sitting there in the dark as the music floated back to you. You stayed caged between Bradley’s legs as one of the arms that was wrapped around you dropped to ghost down your side instead, finding a home resting lightly over your stomach. After a moment, his fingertips started tracing shapes into the patch of skin visible below the cropped shirt you were wearing. You squirmed at the feel of his touch on your skin, but settled into it quickly.

Only another minute passed before those same fingers dipped below the waistband of your long, flowy skirt. You could feel him take a deep breath as he met the top of your cotton panties. He briefly rubbed against the band of the material before you felt him start to retract. You grabbed his wrist before he could get too far.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, voice breathier than you anticipated with so little having happened. It was just the effect he had on you.

“You sure?” Bradley asked roughly in your ear. You nodded, and with another kiss to the side of your head, his hand started moving again. The dark night was aided by the blanket in keeping the both of you covered. Though the music was a steady volume throughout the park and the nearest couple was several yards away, you still bit your lip before a moan could draw the attention of anyone when he slipped past the cotton and over the sensitive skin it kept hidden. When you let your thighs fall open against his, allowing him further access, he groaned quietly into your hair.

He slid his middle finger between your lips, coating his finger in your growing arousal. When he tapped your clit with another, your nails dug into his denim covered thighs your hands rested on.

“You get so wet for me so quickly,” he mused quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself. Still, you nodded in agreement. He continued brushing his fingers through your folds, occasionally touching your bundle of nerves. He was moving calmly, without urgency. He had made it clear in the last few months how much he liked to tease you; you knew this moment, despite your setting, was no exception.

There was a slow but powerful simmer building inside of you. He pressed firmly and circled your clit, and you knew you were reaching a boiling point. You wanted his fingers inside of you, but you wanted to touch him, too.

With a shaky breath, you gripped his forearm, murmuring for him to stop. He did so immediately, withdrawing his hand. Briefly, you marveled at how quick he was to do as you asked as you shifted so you were sitting more sideways between his legs, forcing them wider. But then you caught sight of the almost panicked and guilty look on his face and you were quick to shake your head and draw his lips to yours with a hand on his neck.

“I want it. I want you,” you reassured. The crease that had formed on his forehead smoothed at your words and he cocked his head to the side in question.

“Then what’s wrong? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Pumpk-oh, fuck.”

You had reached down to palm at him through his jeans. He was hard and thick and your mouth watered as you thought about having him in your mouth. You knew you couldn’t do that now, but before the end of the night, when you were back at your apartment, you would make it a priority. Bradley’s jaw clenched and the veins in his neck throbbed as he worked to stay quiet as you squeezed.

“I want to touch you too,” you told him. He let you, for a moment, jaw clenching and the veins in his neck throbbing as he worked to stay quiet before he stopped you with a shake of his head and murmur of your name. You pouted when he took your hand away even as he brought it to his mouth to kiss your palm.

“I don’t think both of us will get away with doing this here, baby. Let me make you feel good now, and we can focus on me later, yeah?”

He pressed a series of kisses into the side of your face, tugging at your ear with his teeth before he spoke again, his voice deeper and raspier than before. “Don’t you know by now that I’ll always put you first?”

You shivered at his words. It hadn’t been that long, but yes, you did know that. Bradley always put you first, in and out of the bedroom. He was a marvel.

His legs fell open for you further and you moved so your back was leaning half against one of his strong thighs and half against his chest. The angle still wasn’t the best, but it was better than before, allowing his better access. This time, he didn’t hesitate to slide his hand into your skirt and underwear. His long, thick fingers felt so good sliding through your folds, but it was nothing compared to how good they felt when they slid inside of you. You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as a moan threatened to escape. God, even his fingers made you feel so full.

He was methodical in how he worked you up. You wanted so badly to move your hips to accentuate the feeling, but you knew you had to remain still to not give the two of you away. You tucked your face as far as you could into his chest, breathing heavily. Your hands clutched at his shirt so tightly as he whispered the sweetest filth in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, taking my fingers like this in public. You’re so tight and warm. You feel how wet you are for me? I can’t wait to be inside of you later. Going to make you feel so good. When we’re back at home, you can be as loud as you want. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You were climbing closer and closer to release, his voice in your ear aiding his touch.

“Do you trust me, Pumpkin?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation, “Always.”

Bradley curled his fingers inside of you at the same time his thumb pressed down hard on your clit, rapidly rubbing back and forth and providing you with the most intense stimulation of the night. One of your hands that had been tangled in his shirt shot out to grasp his arm, pressing him harder into you as the coil snapped.

“Then let go, baby. Come for me.”

You tilted your head up and quietly moaned his name, sounding wrecked even to your own ears. Bradley kissed you as you rode out your orgasm, swallowing the sounds you were desperate to make.

He withdrew his fingers when you finally stopped twitching and your breathing evened out. You expected him to wipe them on the blanket still covering your lap, or even on your skirt. You watched with eyes still bleary from your release when instead, he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off and humming in delight at your taste. You felt another twinge of desire shoot through you at the sight.

“Bradley,” you pleaded, “let’s go back to my place.”

But Bradley shook his head. He was insistent that he had promised you a date night out and he intended on keeping that promise. With a slightly resigned sigh, because honestly how could you be mad when your heart was swelling so much at how dedicated he was to you, you accepted defeat. You adjusted yourself so you were sitting between his legs again and he held you tightly, resuming the soft singing in your ear that he had been doing when this all began. You did your best to get comfortable like you were before, but you were all too aware of just how wet and sticky your underwear were. He was partially through the second verse of a Van Morrison song when you couldn’t take it anymore. You sat up just far enough to allow you to shimmy out of them, albeit a little awkwardly. As you settled back against his chest, you slipped the soaked cotton into his hand.

“Can you put those in your pocket?” you requested innocently, “I don’t think I have room in my bag.”

Bradley didn’t say anything, but you noticed how he had the fabric clutched in his fist, his thumb running through the obvious evidence gathered in the center of just how wet he had made you. You tilted your head back to look at his face. When he finally looked away from your panties and his eyes met yours, they were darker than they had been all night. You murmured his name in question.

In answer, Bradley pressed a harsh, quick kiss to your lips. Then he was standing and holding a hand out to you. With the other, he stuffed your underwear in his pocket like you had requested before he started gathering the blankets you had been using.

“I thought we were staying for the rest of the concert?” you asked, somewhat smugly at how you had gotten him to crack, even if it hadn’t been your complete intention. Once everything was tucked under his arm, the other dropped your hand and wrapped around your shoulder instead, pulling you into his side as he began guiding you to the exit of the park toward the parking lot.

“That was before you handed me your absolutely drenched panties, Pumpkin,” he explained, voice strained. You glanced down and even in the dark, you could see he was hard in his jeans.

“And now?” you asked.

“Now, I’m taking you back to your place, and I’m going to spend all night between your legs. How does that sound?”

You couldn’t help the shiver that shook your whole body or the goosebumps that erupted over your skin. You swallowed thickly.

“It sounds great,” you promised him. You could feel your thighs dampening as you walked, and you were so hungry for him and how he made you feel. You slipped your hand into his back pocket and when you neared the car, you stopped to pull him into a kiss.

“Stay the night with me tonight?” you murmured against his lips.

“I’ll stay with you forever if you want, Pumpkin. Just say the word.”

As he opened the door and helped you into the Bronco, you thought forever sounded like just what you wanted.

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End Notes: I hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your feedback. Likes/comments/reblogs mean the world💚

Special thanks to Mak and Em for everything, as always.

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) : @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

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bfpnola · 8 months

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i dont even have the capacity right now to make as robust of a post as i would like but i really think we all need to be aware of these updates regarding the stop cop city movement taking place in atlanta, georgia, united states of america. bold added for emphasis in the quotes below:

According to the state of Georgia, buying $11.91 worth of glue can land you on a RICO indictment, if the glue is used to protest the police. That’s exactly what it says in yesterday’s indictment against 61 people who have allegedly been protesting Atlanta’s potential Cop City. If you don’t know what Cop City is, it’s a plan to spend at least $90 million and destroy over 300 acres of forest to build a sprawling training center with a mock urban neighborhood to practice police tactics, specifically tactics of repression. Now, sweeping and overreaching charges claim that “militant anarchists” are engaged in a criminal conspiracy to stop this repression training center from being built. But, the indictment proceeds to lay out actions like handing out fliers, giving people food, and even running a bail fund to help arrested protesters as grounds for this case. The social media activity of people involved is referenced, simple acts of free speech are cited, and even ideas like solidarity and mutual aid are discussed as problems which somehow add to the necessity for this indictment.

...

U.S. police killed more people than ever last year and have not changed or reformed since the murder of George Floyd, and the people in Atlanta organizing against Cop City are very much aware of this. Yet instead of acknowledging the simple fact that cops should not kill, and that their power should not be endlessly expanded while they murder without consequence, the state of Georgia is instead choosing to grossly overreach. They’re instead trying to tie the movement to Stop Cop City to George Floyd and say that efforts to limit police violence are criminal rather than justified. Regardless of whether or not activists and organizers fighting the massive police repression training center were in the streets in 2020, they are informed by the knowledge that sparked the biggest protest movement this country has ever seen: police murder without consequence, and expanding police power, means more violence, more killing, and more repression of movements to improve society. We must be clear that anyone who opposes police murders and the expansion of the police state is fighting on the side of justice. The details listed in the RICO indictment, like small Venmo charges, an individual signing their name as ACAB, and people attending a concert show that the state is very much on the other side, the side of ruthless oppression. But maybe even more clarifying is the broad, sweeping condemnation of basic tenants of human goodness. The state lists, “mutual aid, collectivism, social solidarity” as tenants of anarchism that run rampant in the movement to stop Cop City. The charges condemn, word for word, “the notion of social solidarity,” which, “relies heavily on the idea of human altruism.” In a tale as old as time, the indictment of these activists and organizers, of these people, these residents of Atlanta, is more an indictment of the state than of the movement opposed to the state’s interests. The state is revealing itself to be the real villain.

...

The state has given the people of Atlanta, and everyone opposed to the eradication of democracy, no choice but to fight tooth and nail. They have gone for the nuclear option, and in doing so have exposed themselves. They have revealed the fascist underbelly they typically try to keep hidden. They have exposed that when people exercise every democratic avenue available, and are on the verge of success, they will resort to anti-democratic tactics to crush dissent. Beyond just this RICO case, the city of Atlanta is challenging the 100,000+ signatures gathered by grassroots organizers and volunteers working their asses off. Mayor Andre Dickens and his team are using the exact same regressive signature checking and discounting strategy he formerly opposed now that he wants to ram Cop City through against popular opinion and against the democratic process. Between the Mayor, the police, and the state, what choice do we have but to fight. When the government declares itself opposed to the very ideas of solidarity, mutual aid, and care for one another they seek to crush resistance. But instead they spark it. People everywhere are seeing the illegitimate nature of the institutions that kill, repress, and incarcerate anyone struggling for a better world. People everywhere see that institutions opposed to collectively looking out for each other, which seek to ban compassion and care with the threat of violence, have no legitimacy and must be opposed. They cannot be upheld or sustained. In a world where we need each other more than ever we can’t abide a repressive state that would rather police us into an early grave than grant us the resources we need to survive. And although it won’t be easy to overturn the system of capitalism and the violent police state that works to uphold it, we’ve been given no choice. We will Stop Cop City in Atlanta, and we will stop every attempt to build a Cop City anywhere. Officials in other Georgia counties, Baltimore, Ohio, and elsewhere are currently proposing their own Cop Cities, mimicking what they see in Georgia and attempting to build up their capacity to suppress dissent rather than building up their capacities to help people survive and thrive. We will out organize and out mobilize and out build the oppressive systems and institutions that seek to turn this country and the planet into one large police state. We have to. Be careful, but be determined. And get organized. Solidarity.

For over seven years, the fund—a nonprofit fiscally sponsored by the Network for Strong Communities—has provided legal defense and bail support for Atlanta. For aiding #StopCopCity protesters, the three fund organizers were arrested on charges of money laundering and charity fraud. Of what did this “fraud” consist? The warrants cited standard nonprofit reimbursements such as COVID tests and forest clean-ups in their rationale for the arrests. In the words of Kamau Franklin, an organizer with the Atlanta-based collective Community Movement Builders: “This is an arrest which is meant to, again, criminalize the movement, chill dissent, stop organizing, and stop activism from happening to stop ‘cop city’.” In so much as the work is radical, it will be under attack. Organizing that challenges capitalism, White supremacy, policing and prisons, and imperialism always carries risk. In the case of the bail fund, for example, what can movements do in the face of state repression? Potentially by shining a light on how mutual aid funding strategies are under siege, a clearer picture may emerge of ways to protect this valuable activity. Multiple people have noted that the Atlanta arrests represent yet another novel authoritarian and growingly fascist tactic to intimidate grassroots organizing and also draws on a long tradition of state repression against the Black freedom struggle. If successful, it could have far-reaching impacts on the swell of bail funds, abortion funds, transgender healthcare funds, and immigrant justice funds that have grown in recent years.

...

The Atlanta Solidarity Fund arrests did not occur in a vacuum. There is a long history of state repression against radical, grassroots power-building efforts—and those efforts continue today. Historian Say Burgin and political scientist Jeanne Theoharis aptly point out that across 1960 Southern sit-ins, 1961 Freedom Riders, and 1964 Freedom Summer, bail funds were a critical organizing effort for crystallizing and sustaining solidarity action. Where politically motivated captivity for civil rights activists loomed, bail funds responded. Mutual aid funding for these bail efforts were not just tactical, they were cultural. Mutual aid fundraising, in these contexts, gave everyday people a way to invest and engage in the very struggles they supported and needed. Mutual aid would provide yet another cultural outlet for radical, anti-repressive intent. This opportunity to mobilize people in radical efforts clarifies a threat to stakeholders in White supremacist institutions.

...

There are also increasing examples of state actors co-opting both the language and practices of mutual aid. In an interview with mutual aid organizer and writer Dean Spade, the Chicago Community Bail Fund highlighted examples of sheriffs welcoming the arrival of bail funds to support unaffordable bonds, city council-supported ordinances to protect bail funds “while continuing to take the money of Black and Brown community members paying bond for their loved ones,” and the city of New York’s own philanthropically backed bail fund created in 2017. As members of the Chicago Community Bail Fund reflected on New York’s system: “In effect, New York was funding the arrest, prosecution, and release of people caught in its criminal legal system instead of not arresting or prosecuting them in the first place.”

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bit-odd-innit · 1 year

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Fic: Somewhere That’s Green

[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]

It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”)

He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)

He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide.

Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares. But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.

The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”

“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”

“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”

“A what?”)

Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.”

“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”

“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”)

Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”

“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”

“That’s the only way I could have said it.”)

(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)

 Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.) (He’s right.)

It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—

Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”

Wild.

It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)

He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination.

“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.

“Do you like games?” She asks.

He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”

The dam breaks.

“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”

“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”

The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.

Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.

“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”

Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you.

But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”

Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Pretty good life.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fanfic

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italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

this was only supposed to be a paragraph im sorry

It was what Eddie so eloquently deemed “Prep Night.” The rest of Corroded Coffin thought it was kind of stupid, but entertaining, at least.

It was almost show time, and in came the hundreds of fans dressed in their nerd garb, with hints of their regular fashion popping through the tattoos and piercings that littered their bodies.

It wasn’t until halfway through the show did Eddie notice him. Soft wispy hair, thin framed glasses, and a soft yellow sweater that Eddie so desperately wanted to take off. It wasn’t a big show, 200 fans maximum, and the more intimate venues allow for some crowd work. And with sweet cheeks pressed up against the barricade, he knew just who he was going for.

—--

Steve walked into the venue, heart thrumming as he made his way to his spot against the barricades. Dustin was hot on his heels, Corroded Coffin being the first band that introduced him to the metal scene. To his surprise, none other than jock, Steve Harrington, loved the band too. He says jock with love of course, the guy had been his babysitter for forever, so, who better to go to the concert with him?

They were practically shaking with excitement, once in their places at the barricade, Steve manages to finally take a look around. “Hm. Not what I expected people to be dressed like at a CC concert…” Dustin snorts at this. He’d seen the “Prep Night” flier on instagram, and happened to forget to tell Steve about it. But it doesn’t matter, he fits right in. The crowd was buzzing, “Oh, yeah! It’s Prep Night!” Dustin yelled over the noise, and right as Steve was about to reply, the house lights dropped, in lieu of a reply, an excited scream ripped through Steve’s throat.

They’d made it through half of the show, ribs pressed against the metal, it hurt, but the music made all the pain worthwhile.

“What’s up, Indiana?!”

A wall of cheers responds.

“What an amazing turn out for our annual prep night! Woo!!”

From the stage Eddie watched as yellow sweater screamed. ‘He really went all out for tonight,’ Eddie thought as his gaze locked on him. He watched as he screamed, shaking the guy beside him by his shoulders. That’s when he caught the flash of silver poking through his tongue, and Eddie almost dropped to his knees. He’d been looking for the guys' metal scene fashion sense and hadn't been able to catch it until now. He almost regrets looking for it. Almost.

Eddie shook himself back into the frontman role. “Now! One of you… Really nailed it for prep night. And lucky for you, tonight we celebrate it!”

The crowd cheered louder than it had all night, a surprising feat from the already deafening noise level. Eddie smirked, gaze returning to yellow sweater, “Will the man with the fluffy hair, in the yellow sweater PLEASE, come up on stage?” He watched as his mouth dropped, the kid besides him screaming, twin smiles across their faces.

The crowd screams again as yellow shirt is helped up on stage by a security guard. It was no secret to their fans that Eddie is gay, and with yellow sweater in such close proximity, he just couldn’t help himself. “Damn, gorgeous.” This time he did fall to his knees, holding a hand up towards yellow sweater, catching his red cheeks in the stage lights. He brings the mic close to his lips, “What’s your name, baby?” Eddie hands him the mic, “It’s Steve,” his voice comes out breathless and Eddie struggles to rise to his feet.

“Give it up for Steve!”

Eddie’s been handed another microphone, “Congratulations on winning Prep night, I gotta say…” Eddie’s eyes flick up and down taking in Steve’s whole look. “You really nailed it, you look like you dress like this every day.” Steve laughs, holding his own microphone up to his lips, “I do!” He cheers.

And Eddie thought he was intoxicating, but Steve. Damn. The crowd went wild for this prep, and he couldn’t blame them.

And if Eddie was dead before, he was in heaven now, because Gareth and the guys had started the next song, and Steve had taken it upon himself to sing in Eddie’s place. And fuck. He was good.

Style really means nothing because Steve was going wild on the stage, ending note ringing out as he landed on his knees, chest heaving, eyes flicking around the crowd, a tinny smile spreading across his face as he held his arms out.

Shaken from his state, Eddie saunters over to Steve, smirking as his arms drop to his sides. Eddie places a finger under his chin, lifting it ever so that Steve is looking into his eyes. “Wait for me in my dressing room after the show,” He tells him, smirking as he tries to subtly adjust his pants.

Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.

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theloveandthedead · 2 months

Text

Miss Sunshine

A belated Valentines gift for @smoke-and-silver

I may have gotten off topic since this is more about Bernadette's past but I still hope you like!

And forgive me if I got anything wrong about the lore! I'm still new to this fandom

Enjoy! <3

“Don’t do that,” Bernadette’s mother chided, grabbing her six year old daughter’s hand to correct the crayon’s placement. “You have to color inside the lines, sweetheart, otherwise the drawing will be ruined.

Although bewildered, young Bernadette nodded and proceeded to follow her mother’s directions, vigilant to not let a single stray line escape its border.

As she grew up, Bernadette realized how her surroundings were like that coloring book: everything in its place and any deviation from the norm would be met with firm correction.

It was expected that she would grow up to be a good, decent woman who would marry a good, decent man, and they would live in a respectable neighborhood where they would have children who would grow into good, decent individuals.

Rinse. Recycle. Repeat.

The picturesque suburbia was the epitome of orderly and mundane.

The same rows of little white houses.

The same style of neatly ironed shirts, always neatly tucked into ironed pants and skirts.

The same type of casseroles always passed around, sprinkled with neighbor gossip about the ‘hoodlums’ and ‘immoral’ outsiders of their utopia.

And no one seemed to find fault with it.

But Berndette, as she grew into her neatly destined place in suburbia, still felt that crayon in her hand.

Was coloring out of the lines so horrible?

Did everything really have to be “good” and “decent”? (By her late teens, Bernadette had developed an aversion to those words.)

So, inching her crayon out, she etched little flecks of color outside the border visible to no one but her.

The ladies at church wore white socks–Berandette sewed ladybugs on hers.

The children would play catch in the schoolyard–Bernadette would catch frogs in the creek.

Everyone listened to country and sermons–Bernadette had a hidden shoebox with blues cassettes.

The diner served their eggs bare–Bernadette would sprinkle some chili powder when no one was watching.

They were little things, but they gave Bernadette a thrill she never knew before.

Were these the ‘immoral’ activities her parents and neighbors sneered at?

But why?

Why would these little pleasures be sinful?

Bernadette tried to share her joy with her husband–a man who fit the suburbia ideal to a T–but was met with apathy and as time went on, judgment.

He judged her for a lot of things–her interests, her ‘babbling’, how much she ate, even the way she folded towels.

But he always framed it as ‘just being logical’ and that as his wife, she should just listen to him.

Just like all the men did to their wives.

Just like her father did to her mother.

And they listened because that is what a good, decent wife did.

But Bernadette felt bitter and unsatisfied.

All her youth, she had gotten her fix with faint flicks of color.

Must she, in her adulthood, continue to be content with just a toe hovering above the edge?

Couldn’t she finally break through the borders and color wherever the hell she may please?

And, as her lifelong partner, couldn’t her husband join her?

Would it kill him to step out of his box for once?!

If anything,he and everyone else were the strange ones!

But Bernadette swallowed her rage and slowly she withdrew her crayon and retreated back within the lines.

Then, during a trip to the grocery store, Bernadette noticed a flier buried underneath the MLM pamphlets.

A flier for a concert, to be exact.

“Ghost,” Bernadette read aloud, in utter awe at the masked figures and gothic artwork staring back at her.

Almost in a trance, Bernadette rushed out to her car–abandoning her grocery cart–and hastily dialed the ticket office number as her heart pounded in her ears.

Once again she stood at the border, but this time, she had buckets of paint and a pair of scissors strapped to her back.

Bernadette was on the verge of something, and she knew this concert held the missing piece.

There was no rhyme or reason to her feeling, but Bernadette knew if she didn’t go to this concert, she would be stuck inside the lines forever.

On the night of the concert, Bernadette told her husband she was off to visit her mother–the lie tasting like honey on her tongue–and he simply nodded while never looking up from his newspaper.

No “Drive safe, my love”, no kiss goodbye.

Like everyone else, their ‘romance’ was confined to chaste kisses and obligated intimacy that only ended when her husband was satisfied.

Teetering on the edge, Bernadette couldn’t help giggling as she ‘accidentally’ slammed the door behind her, and she practically flew to her car.

And as her car escaped the gates of suburbia, Bernadette felt like she could breathe for the first time.

The parking lot was already packed by the time she pulled in, but luckily she was able to find a spot without too much effort.

As she followed the crowd through the gates to the concert area, Bernadette marveled at those surrounding her.

Concert goers both young and old with their unique fashions and tastes.

Yet, they all shared one common trait–genuine happiness.

They laughed boisterously and showered their companions with affection without the restraints of ‘good and decent’.

Wild and free were the words that came to her mind.

Such foreign words to a dissatisfied member of suburbia.

But how wonderful they were.

Wild and free, yes what a lovely pairing.

Soon a hush fell over the audience as the faint strum of a guitar could be heard before the stage lit up and the band began to play.

All her life, Bernadette had attended that suburbia chapel with its beige walls and hard wooden pews that caused her younger self to shift uncomfortably, only to be stopped by her mother’s firm grip. She was expected to look straight ahead and listen to the pastor’s monotone voice, so she stared at the lone statue of Mary near the altar.

She was the Blessed Mother, the woman chosen to carry the Son of God.

So why was her face somber and her colors dull?

The statues of Jesus, the apostles, and even the angels were vibrant and resplendent, yet Mary–the most important woman in the Bible–faded into the background.

Yet this spectacle before her with the cathedral stage set and the band wearing demon masks as they played that ‘unholy music’, Bernadette knew this was true religion.

As the music washed over her, she ceased to ponder and think and instead just soaked in each ‘sermon’ with clasped hands.

Bernadette knew none of the words, yet she somehow found herself singing along with the crowd like the psalms of her childhood.

The hours flew by and as the mass drew to a close, Bernadette felt suburbia’s claws curling around her heels, and her nails dug into her palms as she clasped her hand tighter.

‘Please don’t let this end. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay!’

Then, as the final song of the night began, Bernadette felt this warmth caressing her cheek and she turned her head to find the lead guitarist staring in her direction.

No.

Not in her direction.

But at her.

And he was beautiful.

A light blush dusted her cheeks as she took in the way his shirt hugged his thin waist–was that toe curling sight humanly possible for a man?--and how he strummed his guitar like a devotee giving tribute to the divine.

But when her eyes met his, that blush became a cherry red because he fell to his knees right on stage, much to the delight of the audience.

One could chalk it up to being part of the show, guitarists often fell to their knees when getting into the music.

But this…..this felt like he was kneeling to her.

Like he was worshiping her.

Call out in the middle of the night

For when else would I hear you?

Fall out in the cold starlight

I can save you if you do

Everything faded away and all that remained was Bernadette and the guitarist.

You will never walk alone

You can always reach me

You will never ever walk alone

To others–the lyrics.

To Bernadette–a promise, a vow.

Call me Little Sunshine

Call me, call me Mephistopheles

Call me when you feel all alone

Just call me Little Sunshine

“Tell me your name.” Bernadette whispered aloud, one hand reaching out towards him. “I have to know your name.”

(“It is believed that knowing a demon’s name is a powerful weapon against evil,” The monotone pastor preached to the congregation. “By knowing a demon’s name, you have power over them.”)

The guitarist did not answer her, his gaze never wavering as the song reached its conclusion.

“Tell me your name!” Bernadette shouted over the cheers.

And, as the final notes echoed across the concert hall, the guitarist flung something in her direction and Bernadette hopped up to catch it with a gasp.

Upon opening her palms, she found his guitar pick and she gazed up to find him standing tall, his hand still outstretched to her.

Then, she heard it.

Like a lover’s kiss against her ear.

“Ifrit.” Bernadette uttered and immediately the guitarist–Ifrit–placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

And Bernadette’s heart fluttered as the crowd erupted into glorious applause.

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

The entire drive home Bernadette was in a daze, one hand on the wheel and the other pressed to her chest with the pick warm against her palm.

When she pulled into the driveway, she sat there for a moment with a blank expression before eventually making her way inside.

The house was pitch dark–of course her husband didn’t wait up for her–so she flicked on the kitchen light and found dirty dishes left beside the sink for her to clean.

Her husband had steak, the bone licked clean on the plate beside the cutlery.

Bernadette paused for a moment, simply staring at the plate, before picking up the steak knife and making her way to the bedroom.

Her husband laid flat on his back, his jaw slack and his arm tossed onto her side.

Bernadette took a moment to just watch him, the way his chest rose and the light snores escaping his throat before raising the steak knife.

And bringing it down.

Again.

Beautiful, vibrant colors surrounded her.

With a jubilant cry, Bernadette flinged the paint across every surface until all was a kaleidoscope of color around her.

The border had been cut through.

She was free.

“I’m hungry.” Bernadette hummed, her hands soaked in blood as she dropped the knife and waltzed back towards the kitchen, the pick pulsating against her palm. “I think I’ll make myself some soup.”

#bernadette #the band ghost #smoke-and-silver #gift for the friend and love #i hope you liked it #thank you for everything!

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specialbluehens · 8 months

Text

mother hen

based on this post i made about shane being an older sibling figure to the younger bachelors & bachelorettes. he's the disgruntled mom friend.

1. sam

Shane slumps into a chair and takes off that dreadful cap as he begins his legally designated 15 minute break at work. He knows if it weren't for the literal law that he wouldn't be given a break at all, especially with Morris stressing about customers that never show up. It's the same two or three people from town every day. Morris isn't going to get that through his thick skull, though. Shane sighs as rubs his eyes roughly with his palms, trying to fend off his exhaustion and mild hangover.

He's getting better. He hasn't cut himself off completely, but he's getting better. He can remember his nights now instead of select moments and then blurry images and distant noises. Shane sighs. He has a therapy appointment in a couple of days. He isn't enjoying therapy but it is starting to give him relief in a way he's never felt before. It's better. It's better, he reassures himself, despite the pressure in his chest yelling at him that he's a failure for not going cold turkey.

Shane slouches further down in the chair and tips his head so it rests on the back of the chair. These cushioned armchairs, as cheap and small and obnoxiously colored blue as they are, are the best things JojaMart has ever gotten. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of absolutely nothing in the break room. He's saved from the terrible repetitive pop music playlist on the floor. It's just him and the whirring of a nearby fan.

Until the door swings open and Sam comes barging in with a giddy smile and something in his hands. He's going to come over and try and show him isn't he?

"Shane!"

Shane groans and covers his face with his cap.

"C'mon! I gotta show you something!"

"No." Shane grumbles from under his cap. "Go away."

"Please?" Sam asks nicely, "I promise you will like it."

Shane grabs his cap and swings it down onto his lap. "What is it?"

Sam holds out a flier and beams. Shane sighs and snatches the paper and takes a look at it. It's an advertisement for a show in Zuzu City.

"Who's 'Goblin Destroyer?'" Shane asks.

"My band!" Sam says excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. "We got a gig! It's a small show but it's still in Zuzu City!"

Shane blinks and nods. "Alright, cool." He looks up at Sam, who's got the biggest hopeful puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. Sam is giving Jas a run for her money. "Uh… good job." He tries to say it and mean it. It's exactly what Sam is looking for, because Sam somehow grins even wider and giddily jumps up and down.

"You totally gotta come!"

Shane purses his lips together. Go to their concert? He can't remember the last time he'd been to a concert, especially given how tickets usually cost more money than he has. Except, Sam and his band can't be expensive. It's their first show and probably at a small concert venue or in a club in Zuzu City, which most of the time is free. He has no reason to not go other than he doesn't know if he wants (or can handle) being in a potential crowd.

But Sam is waiting patiently and quietly. This means a lot to him.

Shane sighs, "Yeah, I can go. I just need the date and time."

"Really?!" Sam nearly shouts. "And everything is on the flier, plus everybody from here who's coming will be on the bus together. Pam agreed to it," He explains.

"Ah," Shane says, reading the flier again and seeing yes, all of the information is there. "Erm, your mom going?"

"Her and Vince are going, yea," Sam sounds less excited but he's still happy. "I'm not sure Mom will like the music too much, she doesn't like it when we practice in the house, but I think my dad would like it."

"Mmm," Shane hums.

"My dad isn't going to be home until next year," Sam says, his demeanor shifting into what Shane can only describe as sullen. "It's been weird, getting ready for it even though it's a whole two seasons away."

Shane isn't sure what to say to that. He never had much of a family growing up, and what little he remembers of his father are more images than true moving memories. Flashes.

"He's been gone since Vince was a toddler," Sam says. "We had just moved to the valley when it happened." Shane knows all of this already, this isn't the first time Sam has told him about it. Sam tends to repeat it a lot.

"I mean, I'm an adult now, y'know?"

"You're an adult?" Shane teases dryly. He smirks as Sam leans over and gives him a light slap on the knee.

"I'm being serious, dude," Sam says, "I just… I'm doing great things and he's not even here. I've been told he didn't have a choice but then there's so many people whose dads are here and weren't shipped off to the war. Did he have no choice?"

"Sam there wasn't a draft, and there hopefully won't be one anytime soon. So no, your father wasn't forced," Shane states matter-of-factly. He didn't plan on continuing further, but Sam's look of defeat…

"But, by 'no choice', probably meant in looking for a job. People who aren't doing well sometimes feel like the military's all they can do and be guaranteed some benefits at the end of it. Why did y'all move to Pelican Town?" Shane asks.

"It was too expensive in Zuzu," Sam says.

"Do you know why I moved to Pelican Town? Why did I move in with my aunt?"

"Because it was too expensive in Zuzu City."

"Right, and that was just me and Jas," Shane says, "Two of us. Y'all are a family of four. I can't imagine how hard it was."

"... Yeah…" Sam murmurs.

"Look, your old man was doing what was best at the time. He's gonna be different when he comes back."

"Yeah, in his letter he said he was different. I found it in my mom's room."

"Don't go snooping in your mom's room," Shane scolds. He clears his throat to switch off the "talking to Jas aka a child" mindset. "All I'm saying is, maybe this," Shane passes back the flier. "This'll be something he can enjoy when he gets back."

"I hope so," Sam says. "I don't know what I'd do if he doesn't like it."

"He'll like it," Shane says, "And even if he doesn't, he'll still be proud. He's your dad. He'd be crazy if he wasn't proud of you."

"You think so? Sometimes I don't even know if my mom is proud of me."

"She's going to be proud of you when she sees you on that stage. I know I'd be."

"... You would?"

"Mhm."

Sam looks at the flier and his face scrunches, deep in thought. Shane checks the clock and sees he's a couple minutes past his break. He sighs and he stands up, stretching his arms up to try, popping his back. Before he can leave, Sam is wrapping his arms tightly around Shane and squeezing.

"Sam?!"

"Thank you," Sam breathes.

Shane awkwardly pats Sam's back. "Er… you're welcome?"

Sam lets go and hurries off out of the breakroom. He probably wasn't even supposed to be back here, let alone for an entire 15 minute break. Shane sighs as he drags his feet to the door.

"That was weird," He murmurs to himself. He ignores the lightness in his chest. It was weird.

As long as the kid's happy though, right?

Shane questions if it was worth it as Morris yells at him for being late coming back from his break. He sees Sam behind Morris, mopping as usual as if he hadn't gone to the breakroom and is the reason Shane is late. Shane sighs again.

He'll take the blame for it this time.

This time, he tells himself, despite it not being the first time.

It probably won't be the last.

#sdv #sdv shane #sdv sam #my writing #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #ramblings #mother hen #hee hee finally finished this #posting here instead of ao3 (for now) bc i don't wanna stare at another #incomplete fic....#once i have a few of these written i'll transfer them to ao3

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laurelwen · 6 months

Text

Alex's Bulletin Board - Music

While we never get a really good, in-focus shot of the ephemera on Alex's bulletin board, we can make out a few details. It's interesting that the composition of his board changes between these two scenes. The first shot takes place after Josh's funeral, while Alex sits and misses Nigel's presence. The second shot is from the scene while he's sitting on his bed, unwrapping the gift left for him. This scene happens after Alex starts helping with the school play, and this fact along with the new items on the board seems to indicate that at least *some* time has passed between Josh's death and the severed hand gift.

Both shots show a number of interesting items, but the most prominent is the band poster. We cannot make out all the details but the name "Fire Season" is clear, as is "Milk" which appears on both the poster and on a postcard ad on the right side of the earlier shot. It's unreadable, but there is also some text following Milk on the poster. Below the band names is the text "UK Tour 200(x)" and "June". The set crew have obscured the exact year that this flier is from, but we know that the filming in Yorkshire locations was taking place in January and February 2005. This means that the June tour dates on the poster must have been from 2004 or earlier.

I researched UK based bands with the word "milk" in the name, and there were a couple options that came up. The first is The Milk Teeth, an indie rock band active at that time. The illegible text following "milk" on the poster could certainly be "teeth". Using the Wayback Machine, I was able to get a few glimpses of their defunct website, and they indicated that they were going on a UK tour in June 2004, which matches the dates on the poster. There isn't much else to be found, given that this was an obscure UK band from the mid 2000's.

Another possible option is The Milk, another indie rock band operating around the same time, as evidenced by this entry of a performance in 2005. This one seems less likely, but I'm including it for the sake of being thorough. You can decide.

Fire Season is another obscure British indie rock band with very little internet presence, but they definitely existed. My assumption is that someone in the set department was an indie rock fan and had these items on hand to use.

My Watsonian takeaway: Alex is a fan of indie rock music. I'm still formulating my thoughts and will put together as much info as I can on the other items we can see on his corkboard.

Thanks to @mirkkuz for reminding me to pick this research up again.

#the way i just keep being so normal #i realize literally no one asked but i answered anyway #like minds #alex forbes #murderous intent #like minds 2006 #like minds annotations

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ruggiethethuggie · 1 year

Text

HAPPIER THAN EVER

WC: 1722 tags: cater x reader, gn!reader, cussing, concerts, angst angst angst, toxic relationships referenced, i am so sorry, this bitch ain't proofread lmao

also be sure to listen to this song as you read to really feel the full effect 😈 ❤️ Spotify Link | Youtube Link ❤️

♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️

“Please go with me. It sounds fun; I don’t want to go alone.” Your friend’s words fell on deaf ears as you ignored them, aimlessly scrolling your phone instead. You felt your phone ripped out of your hands. “Please,” your friend said with pleading eyes and holding your phone high up in the air from you. “Fine,” you said as you snatched the flier from their hands. “What even is this?” You looked over the printed ad, staring back at your friend confused. “It’s a concert. They have tons of talent come in and they do covers of songs and sometimes you get to hear originals. Look, this is who all is gonna be there,” they pointed at the bottom of the paper at the list of group names.

“Red Royals, The V is For Vampire, Diamond,” you shook your head at your friend. “I haven’t heard of any of these people. What if this is ass?” Your friend scoffed at your words. “You never want to do anything fun. You haven’t wanted to go anywhere since you and whatever his name was broke up and that was like two years ago. Don’t you think you should try to be happy for once?” You rolled your eyes at their response, but they were right. That breakup was messy, the turmoil of the toxic relationship had finally erupted and you decided to end it. No one knew the real story of what happened, you kept that to yourself. Maybe it was time to finally move on, try to put yourself out there again. “This place is over an hour away, I’m not driving,” you said sternly. Your friend’s eyes lit up, taking that as a sign that you were going to attend the concert with them. “That’s fine, I’ll drive!” they exclaimed.

♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️

Later that evening you and your friend arrived at the concert venue. It was already packed before the first set ever played. “Wow, there’s so many people here. It’s just small bands, right? I didn’t think there would be this many people,” you said as you looked around the room. The crowd was so full it looked like everyone was standing shoulder to shoulder as they waited. “Some are small, but a few already have a good size following. Like The V is For Vampire guy? His fans are wild, I’ve seen them on the internet before. They’re insane. And that other group, Diamond, they have a good following, too,” you friend explained. You nodded your head as you saw the lights flicker off overhead. The crowd shouted in anticipation, the lighting change meant the first set would start soon.

You enjoyed the concert as the first few sets took the stage. Most of the songs they played were your typical rock covers of pop songs, but you didn’t mind it. You were actually glad you had been invited tonight; this beat sitting at home and wallowing in your self pity. You heard a few excuse me’s coming from behind you. You figured someone was trying to get through the crowd. You moved out of the way towards your friend as a band member for one of the groups made his way by you. You assumed at least he was one of the members, he was carrying an instrument case over his back and had his drumsticks in his back pocket. You could see the logo on the side of the case that read “Diamond” as he motioned for his other bandmates to follow him through the crowd.

Without even realizing, you looked in the direction he was gesturing to. And that’s when you saw what you weren’t expecting to see. The ginger haired, green eyed member carrying his guitar case on his back. You could feel your heart stop in your chest, the air in your lungs getting caught in your throat as he walked by you. “Cater?” you said puzzled as he was next to you. Hearing his name, he stopped walking and looked at you. His gaze looked annoyed, maybe it was because they were late to the venue? “Cater?” you said again. “Oh, hey,” he said with a small nod as his gaze shifted to other parts of the room. You hadn’t seen him since the day that you two had broken up, the day that you had ended it all. The day that you broke his heart. But seeing him here in front of you, it gave you a warm feeling in your chest that you didn’t expect.

The silence between you two grew awkward. “Cater, come on, man,” his band mate shouted from up ahead. “I have to go. But it was nice seeing you,” he said with a slight smile. “Yeah, duh, of course,” you said with a pause. “I- I can’t wait to see your set.” He lightly chuckled as he looked down. “Yeah, me too. I hope you like it.” He gave another small nod and made his way to his other bandmates, disappearing off backstage to get ready for their own set. You felt your hand grab your arm. “What was that about? You know Diamond?” they asked confusedly with their mouth hung open. “That’s … Cater…,” you said looking at the direction to go backstage. “Wait, you mean like the Cater? Like your ex Cater?” You didn’t think your friend’s mouth could hang open any wider than it was.

“Yes, the Cater,” you said with a sigh. Your friend huffed and crossed their arms. “Hmph, well. We don’t have to stay for his group’s set if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t wanna watch my shitty ex’s performance,” they said, narrowing their eyes at the stage. “No, it’s- it’s fine. We can stay,” you said quietly as the group on stage finished. Part of you felt guilty for what you told all your friends. None of them had actually gotten to meet Cater during the time that you two dated. He was busy working two jobs, trying to save enough money for the real dreams and goals he had. You had told your friends that the breakup was because of how toxic he was in the relationship, but in all actuality, you were the one who was toxic- always upset that he was putting his dreams first, upset that he tried his best to give you the time and attention you craved, but nothing was ever good enough for you. He was never good enough for you. Your breakup with him ended with you telling him that his love for you wasn’t ever going to be good enough because he never made you a priority and only gave you excuses.

The anticipation for his group’s set was agonizing. You knew he would write song lyrics in his free time when you were together, something you always said didn’t make any sense. You didn’t think he would be in a band actually performing. Would he be performing songs he wrote, or did another member write their music? Finally, after a while, you saw his group take the stage to set up their guitars and equipment. The crowd cheered as Cater approached the mic stand. “Hey everyone, uhh, thanks for being here tonight. We’re Diamond, hope you enjoy the songs,” he said with a heart melting smile and wink to the crowd as his group started their performance. Watching him perform on stage was mesmerizing. Why did you ever tell him that this wasn’t worth it? He looked so happy on stage, strumming his guitar and singing his heart out. They played a few songs before he spoke again to the crowd.

“You guys havin’ a great time?” he shouted with a wide smile. The whole crowd, including yourself, screamed in bliss. “Awesome! We have one more song. This one is an original; one I wrote a few years ago about the love of my life,” he said with a shake of his head and sigh. You could feel your friend’s eyes on you, burning a hole through your skull as they stared. “What?” you said harshly to them. They raised their eyebrows at you. “You think it’s about you?” They gave a playful laugh as you rolled your eyes at them. You figured that Cater had already moved on, the song was probably a love song about his new partner. But you were wrong.

He started to play the chords on his guitar and sing. “You called me again, drunk in your benz. Driving home under the influence, You scared me to death.” The lyrics of the song hit you like a truck as you thought back to after your breakup. You were reckless back then, upset at the world and blaming everyone but yourself. You remembered the night you had called him, a few weeks after you broke up with him, drunk and saying nonsense to him on your way home from the bar. That was the last time you had decided to go out before tonight. The venue felt like it and time were frozen, except for you and Cater, as he sang on stage. You could feel your anxiety rising, your whole body heating up as you tried to contain your emotions. Your friend didn’t even realize what you were going through.

“I don’t relate to you. I don’t relate to you, no. Cause I’d never treat me this shitty, you made me hate this city,” he sang with a silvery voice with his eyes closed, really feeling the lyrics and music. Your mind was blanking, your hearing muffling as he strummed his guitar. He opened his eyes and looked at you in the crowd as he sang the next part of the song. You couldn’t hear half of it, your anxiety high enough that you felt like you wanted to pass out. You stumbled as you turned around, trying to make your way through the crowd and to the bathroom to try and catch your breath. You felt panicky as you got into the bathroom, grabbing the sink to try and stabilize yourself. Cater’s muffled performance ringing through the bathroom. Your anxiety reached its peak as you stood there, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought your body from hyperventilating. You never knew exactly how much you had hurt him that day, but now you did.

#~.writing #~.twst #twst x reader #twst angst #cater diamond #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater angst #cater diamond angst #twisted wonderland x reader

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stardustcatcher · 2 years

Text

First Time

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors DNI), swearing, maybe a teeny-tiny bit of negative self image, drinking, smoking, praise, jakey’s a sweetheart, it's real fluffy smut so... (please let me know if i missed anything)

AN: this is my first time posting a fic so please be nice to me or i'll cry. all feedback is appreciated, also huge thanks to @mintysammykiszka for encouraging me to post because without her i probably never would've. okay, I'm done talking now. i hope you all enjoy :) [i found the pic above on Pinterest, so credit to whoever it belongs to]

there might be some typos and horrific grammar so sorry about that one besties

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Josh had told (Y/N) about the party he and Jake were throwing before it was really even a plan. She had started out as one of Ronnie’s friends, the pair clicking immediately since being paired together for a project in English, but Josh had seen the way his twin looked at the girl when she came over to hang out with their little sister. In her time hanging out with Ronnie, (Y/N) had been a frequent flier in the Kiszka house and soon became a favorite amongst all the residents. Kelly and Karen adored her, Sam was quick to bond with her over their love for the stars, Josh appreciated her interest in his film projects, Ronnie was happy to have a friend of her own who was a girl around her own age, and Jake—well, Jake was hopelessly enormed by the girl.

Everything about (Y/N) was perfect to Jake. She was brilliant, but in a humble way where she would never make you feel bad for not being as smart as her. She was gorgeous with an amazing body that she had grown into over the last year or so. She loved all the music that the boys had grown up with and even introduced them to a few artists they had never heard of. (Y/N) was an expert in all things literature, writing, film, and basically everything creative. Jake could listen to her talk about anything and everything for hours, there was nothing she could say that the boy would not find utterly fascinating.

The plan was for (Y/N) to head over after work, driving herself back to the Kiszka house as she usually did on Fridays. Karen and Kelly were taking Ronnie to some concert for the weekend and left the boys to their own devices, they were old enough to spend one weekend alone. But all Josh and Jake saw was the perfect opportunity for a party. Mama and Papa Kiszka lovingly asked (Y/N) to make sure the boys didn’t kill each other for the weekend before they left and she felt a little bad knowing at least one small piece of furniture would be getting torched if the twins got one too many drinks in them.

Seven-thirty on Friday evening, (Y/N) was accompanying Josh on their trip to the liquor store just outside town. Not fourty-five minutes later, the trunk and backseat of (Y/N)’s 2004 Honda Civic was filled to the brim with cases of beer, a keg, and varying bottles of rotgut. The radio was blasting, the windows all open, and Josh had his feet kicked up on the dashboard. He turned his head to (Y/N) and took a moment to admire her features, he couldn’t argue with his twin brother on the fact that she was absolutely breathtaking. From her shaped brows that framed her pretty eyes, to the delicate slope of her nose and plump lips, soft jawline and high cheekbones, and the soft looking hair that surrounded her face like an angel’s halo. To Josh, and probably all the Kiszka boys, (Y/N) was divine femininity personified.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” (Y/N) chuckled, breaking Josh from his trance.

“Just admiring your beauty, my darling,” Josh smiled, all perfectly straight and white teeth on display. She only scoffed at him and resumed her gaze on the road ahead. Josh and (Y/N) just had that type of relationship, the one where it was unclear to people if they were a couple or just extremely close. It was the latter, Josh didn’t like (Y/N) like that and he knew she felt the same way about him. She was one of his best friends and an outlet for him to pour his affection into, a person to cuddle up to and love on without the added drama and complication of a true relationship. Josh loved (Y/N) and she loved him back, but they were purely platonic soulmates. “Y’know, this is the perfect opportunity to talk to Jake tonight,” Josh said, reaching over to where one of (Y/N)’s hands laid on the gearshift and holding it in his own. That was probably one of the things Josh loved most about (Y/N), her ability to accept and return affection without making it weird.

“Talk to him about what?” (Y/N) asked, relaxing her hand in Josh’s hold. She tried to play coy, like she had no clue what he was talking about, but they both knew she was a shitty liar. Josh let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head against the readrest before giving her an incredulous look, always one for the dramatics. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously!” the eldest Kiszka exclaimed breathlessly. “I’m talking about the palpable sexual tension that seems to magically appear every time you two are within a hundred feet of each other!”

“I thought you were going to let this go,” (Y/N) looked at him, eyebrows raised pointedly in his direction. Ever since she had started hanging around longer, Josh had been nagging her about how Jake was clearly in love with her—his words not hers. (Y/N) just couldn’t see how a boy that beautiful could harbor feelings for her, in her eyes she was average at best. All she saw was how her hair always seemed to be a mess or how her thighs rubbed together uncomfortably when she wore shorts. It’s not like she thought she was hideously ugly, she just really couldn’t see how it was possible for a god like Jacob Kiszka to be attracted to her when she was so plain.

“Not until you two confess your undying love for each other or at least fuck it out,” Josh shook his head stubbornly. (Y/N) groaned at his vulgarity but he could see her cheeks flush red. “I’m serious! We’re twins, you think I don’t know these things? Not to mention, we share a room! So I hear his little happy noises and a certain beautiful girl’s name whenever he thinks everyone is sleeping. Mark my words! You two will fuck or so help me God—”

“Okay Josh! I get it!”

People started filling the house around half past nine, it was around that time that (Y/N) felt grateful that the Kiszkas lived on a small plot of land with their neighbors a good distance away. Jake and Josh had been quite popular amongst the highschool’s student body before they graduated, with Jake being friendly with the athletes and music kids and Josh being close with his theater buddies and mostly everyone else since he was a social butterfly. Jake had already started the bonfire out back while Josh appointed himself DJ since he declared he had the best music taste.

(Y/N) wasn’t necessarily popular, she was actually quite the introvert in school, but she could get along with mostly everybody. But she mostly stuck around the Kiszkas, feeling most at ease with them by her side. She split her time talking about anything and everything while wedged between Sam and Danny, making drinks and socializing with Josh, and checking out back to make sure Jake didn’t start a forest fire or burn the house down.

As the night got colder, (Y/N) joined Josh in the backyard by the firepit. She was huddled into his side with a blanket wrapped around them as he animatedly told the story of Kelly cutting Jake’s hair off with shears after the boy said something to upset his father. Her head buzzed from the alcohol and her stomach hurt with how hard she was laughing. Both her legs were thrown over Josh’s as she leaned into him, holding her red solo cup in her hand tightly.

From across the fire, Josh could see his twin eyeing him and (Y/N) as he strummed on his guitar with some of his music buddies. Deciding that he had seen enough of the pining glaces, Josh took the hand that wasn’t wrapped around (Y/N)’s waist and began to trail it up and down her calf that was laying across his lap. She only leaned into him more, assuming it was just Josh being affectionate, and laid her head on his shoulder.

He looked down at her sweetly and asked if she could refill his cup, claiming his legs had gone numb from the cold. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him teasingly and snatched the now empty cup from him. He thanked her dramatically, peppering small kisses across her cheeks. She pushed him away, giggling as she got up to head inside, missing the glare that Jake shot at his twin.

Weaving through a sea of people while tipsy proved to be a challenge but once she got to the counter where the liquor was housed, it was a breeze. Music thudded through the walls as she focused on filling up the cup, but she nearly spilled the whole thing when a pair of hands wrapped around her waist. (Y/N) was ready to punch whoever laid hands on her, but when she turned around and only saw Sammy, her fists unclenched. He was the tallest of his family and the movement of his gangly limbs were less than graceful being as crossfaded as he was. His pretty brown eyes were glazed over and red as hell, he was definitely stoned alright. “Sorry, (Y/N),” he smiled apologetically. “Didn’t mean t’scare ya.”

“It’s alright, Sammy,” she chuckled at him as he leaned most of his weight against her to pull her into a tight hug. “You okay, bub?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” he giggled. From the few times (Y/N) had seen Sam intoxicated, she could tell he was touchy and giggly whenever inebriated. He was touchy and giggly all the time anyway, but all that love he had in his heart seemed to be magnified when he wasn’t sober. “I’m just so glad you’re my friend, y’know? You’re like my best friend, but don’t tell Daniel,” he whispered the last half of his sentence. “When we get really famous, you’re gonna come everywhere with us! ‘Cause we would die without you, especially Jake—” (Y/N) wanted to ask what he meant but she didn’t have time to before he started talking again. “—like that time I was sick and you brought me soup and all my homework after school. You’re like a mom, but like in a good way, like a hot mom. Y’know what? For your birthday I’m gonna get you a little fanny pack for you to put important shit in, like bandaids and Advil and lollipops for when I get cranky because I don’t have sugar—” Sam rambled until (Y/N) put her hands on the sides of his face.

She knew how hyper Sam could be normally and she guessed that the mixture of weed and alcohol that he consumed amplified that, the last thing she needed was an overstimulated Sam on her watch. “Sammy, babe, I gotta get this drink back to Josh outside,” she looked him in the eye, her own vision a little fuzzy around the edges. “Come with me, you could probably ask Jake to let you throw some shit in the fire,” his eyes lit up at that suggestion and he nodded eagerly.

Smiling, (Y/N) grabbed his hand and led him back through the ocean of people and outside. The cold air hit her like a brick wall and she shivered. Sam let go of her hand quickly and unzipped the baggy hoodie he had been wearing before draping it over her shoulders. She smiled at him thankfully and led him to where Josh was. They sat down next to the eldest Kiszka and he grinned, taking his drink from (Y/N) and kissing her head as a thanks. Now she was wedged between two human furnaces and was happily content with her legs thrown over Josh and the top half of her body leaning into Sam, his arm thrown across her chest.

Josh smiled mischievously at his little brother and motioned for him to come closer. Sam leaned his head behind (Y/N) and Josh shot one more look at his twin—who was glaring even harder than before. Cupping his hand around his mouth so no one could see, Josh carefully whispered something into Sam’s ear that caused the younger boy to bark out a laugh and nod. “What’re you two whispering about back there?” (Y/N) asked, looking up at Sam when we resumed his previous position.

“Absolutely nothing, my sweet,” Josh said, his words innocent but there was an evil glint in his eyes. One that meant he was up to no good.

The party died down around three in the morning, half of the participants had left and the others—mostly inner circle—were found sleeping around the Kiszka house. Danny insisted on helping (Y/N) put Sam to bed, not wanting the girl to deal with the plastered boy alone. The pair dragged him up the stairs and into Ronnie’s room, situating him with a towel over the pillow and a trashcan next to the nightstand in case he got sick. “What have we learned, Sammy?” (Y/N) asked expectantly, helping him take off his jeans and get into some comfy clothes.

“Beer before liquor, never been sicker,” Sam hiccuped. “Liquor before beer, in the clear.”

“Good boy,” she nodded, knowing how much of a lightweight Sam could be, but it was nice to see him let go every once in a while. He had been pretty stressed over Jake being harder on him about the band so it was good for him to have a night free of inhibitions.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” the boy slurred, his face pressed into the pillow. “I love you, you’re the best.”

“I love you too, kid,” (Y/N) smoothed his hair from his face. “Now go to sleep,” by the time she pressed a kiss to his temple, he was already snoring. “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, please, Danny.”

“You’ve got it boss,” Danny gave a little salute and laid himself on the small futon Ronnie had in her room. “Sleep tight, (Y/N),” the boy gave a dopey smile, he wasn’t as drunk as Sam but he certainly wasn’t sober either.

“Night, Dan,” she kissed his forehead quickly before closing the door and padding over to Kelly and Karen’s room. The door was cracked open and she could hear small snores from the inside. On the king sized bed, Josh was spread out like a starfish on his stomach, butt naked. (Y/N) scoffed with a smile and grabbed one of the knitted blankets from the closet before throwing it over Josh’s body. He cuddled into the warmth in his sleep and gave an unconscious grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she brushed a curl from his face and pressed her lips to his cheek.

She made her way to the back patio and sat on the porch swing, wrapping the blanket that was there around her and picking up the small metal cigarette case where Josh kept his pre-rolled joints. (Y/N) lit one up and looked into the backyard, the dying fire and discarded cans and bottles in the grass, as she inhaled the smoke. “I didn’t know you were still up,” a voice spoke up as the light from the kitchen seeped through the backdoor. (Y/N) looked up to find none other than Jake Kiszka leaning against the frame, looking gorgeous as ever.

“I just finished my rounds,” she smiled, scooting over and patting the seat next to her. Jake sat down silently and she passed him the joint. “You should keep your brothers away from vodka, it makes them surly.”

“Which one,” he asked, smoke billowing from his lips in the light breeze.

“Both,” (Y/N) laughed, taking back the joint from Jake.

“You’re good for taking care of them like that,” Jake said, taking a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and pulling one out with his teeth. “I probably would’ve left Sam face down in the basement.”

“Poor kid’s gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” she took another pull from the joint and dared to take a look at Jake.

His hair was tucked behind his ears, not quite long enough to completely stay out of his face yet but still longer than it was in school when it swooped over his forehead in a fringe. He wore a button up shirt, it was denim and halfway undone with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of black jeans that tucked into the tops of his Chelsea boots. He truly was beautiful, all sharp angles and cords of lean muscle stretched under tan skin. He and Josh may have been identical twins but there was something so different about Jake, something that even differentiated him from Sam and Ronnie. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, quiet and reserved most of the time but still observant, or maybe it was something just uniquely Jake that she’d never be able to place. But he had this air about him that just screamed safety, he was easy to talk to and be around, never pressing for conversation. He was content in the quiet if that’s what his company called for.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jake said, breaking the silence. “I mean, I know all these people aren’t really your thing but I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m not a fan of most people, but I can socialize when necessary,” (Y/N) joked lightly, feeling heat flush to her cheeks at his admission. “You all make it easier.”

There was another lull of quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. (Y/N) shifted slightly, her knee moving from where it was tucked under her, brushing against Jake’s exposed forearm. Sparks of electricity shot through her skin at the contact and she couldn’t help but look at his side profile and admire his features. He looked as if he’d been carved from marble, like he belonged in the Accademia Gallery with Michaelangelo’s David.

In a burst of slightly stoned confidence, (Y/N) leaned over and pecked the corner of Jake’s mouth. A gasp escaped his lips, barely audible but loud enough for her to hear from her spot next to him. Her eyes went wide, not believing she had really just done that, and her breath was heavy in her chest. Regret washed over her, worried that she had ruined their friendship and she went to say something, anything really, but Jake beat her to it.

“I—” he gulped, his eyes meeting hers. Their noses almost touching, he could smell the perfume she wore. “I always thought you liked Josh, or Sammy. They were all over you tonight.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Just you,” she whispered. “Only you.”

That seemed to be all Jake needed to hear before he surged forward and planted his lips against hers. It took a second for (Y/N) to actually process that Jake was really kissing her and that she needed to kiss back, but once she did, she melted into him and the hand that he had laid against her cheek.

His lips were so soft and warm and he tasted like cigarette smoke and beer, (Y/N) was drowning in his taste and scent. She never wanted to not be kissing him. It was sloppy and messy at first, Jake obviously having more experience than her, but as his hand moved to grip her hip, they fell into rhythm with each other. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hip, dull nails scraping at the skin.

(Y/N) was the first to break away, hating that she needed air. Their foreheads rested against each other’s, breathing heavy as Jake’s index finger traced over her cheekbone. “Want to head inside?” he asked in a whisper, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. The idea of kissing him more inside was too good to pass up, so she just gave him a breathless nod. They untangled from each other, Jake standing first and extending a hand to (Y/N). She took it and followed him as he led her through the house and up the stairs. They stepped over sleeping partygoers, giggling and chuckling quietly as Jake stopped in the middle of the hall to kiss her again. He smiled at her as if she had hung the stars herself, such adoration gleaming in his dark eyes.

Stepping into the room that the Kiszka brothers shared, (Y/N) felt something she had never felt in that room before. She had spent many nights in that room, either cuddling up with Josh or laying on the floor with all three of the boys while listening to records. Now, here she was in the very room that she slept in more than her own, alone with Jake. Something she had never done before. She really got a good look at Jake’s portion of the room for what seemed like the first time, not cluttered with hippie shit like Josh’s or an organized mess like Sam’s. She could see the posters meticulously hung on the wall in an order that only Jake understood, and the way his end table was set up so he would actually have to sit up to turn off his alarm clock.

(Y/N) was snapped from her daze when she felt Jake’s hands grip her hips and his lips on her neck. She leaned back into his chest and craned her neck to the side, giving him more room to pepper kisses. His hands ran up and down her sides, following the soft curves and contortions of her body’s shape. Jake’s nose nuzzled against her throat and he breathed her in, smelling the scent of her shampoo and body wash. A beautiful mix of something floral and fruity. “So pretty,” he sighed against her, his entire front pressed against her back.

“Look who’s talking,” she replied, turning her head to capture him in another kiss. (Y/N) turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck as he backed them up to his bed. He sat on the mattress and pulled her on top of him. Her knees straddled his thighs and she followed him as he laid on his back. Jake’s hands once again roamed her sides before moving down the expanse of her back and planting them right above her ass. He kneaded the flesh there, swallowing the happy sighs she let out. (Y/N)’s hands rested on his exposed chest as her fingers traced his collarbones. She pulled back from the kiss and rubbed her nose against his.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, voice gruff yet still soft. The look of concern in his eyes and the use of the pet name warmed (Y/N)’s heart. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to.”

“No,” she shook her head softly as she sat up again, Jake following her with his hands still rubbing her lower back gently. “I want to, I want you. I’m okay, just savoring the moment. I never thought this would really happen. Also, I—” she paused, clearing her throat. “I’ve never done this,” she motioned between them. “I just thought you should know. But I want to, with you… If you want to.”

Jake noticed her cheeks flushing and her uncertain gaze, he smiled warmly and held her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “Hey,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers again. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweet girl. I’m honored that you trust me enough to do this, I’ve wanted this for so long. We’ll go at your pace, whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?”

(Y/N) blushed once more and nodded. “Yeah okay,” she smiled shyly. Jake returned her grin and patted her thigh, telling her to get up for a second. She moved off him and watched as he made his way to the record player in the corner of the room, he thumbed through the milk crate that housed his vinyls before picking one and setting it on the turntable. (Y/N) wasn’t sure what record it was but there was no doubt that it was one of Jake’s, the twangy and gruff vocals along with the bluesy guitar. As he walked back to the bed, he stood between (Y/N)’s legs and leaned down for another kiss, but he wasn’t focused on her lips for long.

Jake’s lips carefully made their descent to (Y/N)’s jawline and down her neck, nipping and sucking at any place they could reach. He pressed a tender kiss to the skin right under her ear before grazing his teeth against the spot and sucking a deep red mark into the previously unblemished skin. Evidently, it was a sensitive spot if the way she gripped the hair at the back of Jake’s head was any indication.

She let out a soft whimper as Jake moved lower, biting softly at her throat, testing the waters. His hand moved up her front and went to rest on the swell of her chest, his palm sitting atop her breast. Jake could feel her nipple harden through the thin fabric of her shirt and he felt his pants grow just the slightest bit tighter. “Can I?” he asked, looking up at her through his lashes with desperation in his eyes.

“Do it,” she breathed in response. He stripped off her shirt, (Y/N) lifting her arms at the appropriate time, and threw it to the ground. A broken sounding groan clawed its way from Jake’s throat when he laid his eyes on her bare upper half. (Y/N) felt exposed, her whole body growing hot at being on display for the boy she’d yearned for since forever and she instinctively went to cover herself up, but she didn’t get far before Jake laid his hand on her wrist.

“Don’t hide from me, you’re so pretty,” he whispered, moving her arms out of the way and dipping his head down to take her in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak of her nipple.

She whimpered, her hand resuming its place on the back of Jake’s head, her fingers tangling in his brown hair. His hand focused on the breast he wasn’t mouthing on, nimble guitar fingers tweaking her nipple. He lightly pushed back on her shoulders, prompting her to move up the bed. Moving his mouth to her other breast, giving it the same attention as he had the previous one, he crept one hand under her skirt and played with the waistband of her underwear.

He could feel the growing damp spot between her legs and the heat radiating off of her. Jake kissed his way down her body, leaving small marks as a trail and paying extra attention to the dips of her hips. “Is this okay?” he asked, sitting back on his heels with his hands on the waistband of her skirt. (Y/N) nodded, her brain not being able to comprehend words at the moment, but Jake shook his head at her. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“More than okay,” she all but whined, wiggling her hips only the tiniest bit. “Please, take it off.”

“As you wish,” he winked smugly, pressing a kiss just below her bellybutton. After pulling her skirt off, Jake discarded his own shirt since it seemed a little unfair for her to be totally naked and him being completely clothed. (Y/N) looked at him with hooded eyes, her pupils blown with lust and love. Sinking to his stomach, Jake peppered kisses up her legs, starting at the ankle and moving up to the crease of her thigh and then doing the same with the other. “You’re in charge here, (Y/N). You tell me what feels good, and if you ever want to stop you just say the word. Got it?” he looked up at her from his spot between her legs, though (Y/N) doubted she was really processing anything he said when he looked that beautiful.

“Got it, just please do something,” (Y/N) begged. Jake gave her an evil looking smirk before trailing his index finger through her folds. She gasped at the contact and arched her back when that very same finger breached her entrance.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, letting her get used to the sensation before he added his mouth to the equation. His lips pressed a chaste kiss to her clit before his tongue licked a stripe up the length of her. (Y/N) couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, from the heat of Jake’s mouth to the slight crook of his finger, the stimulation was overwhelming. Her hand shot down and grabbed at the hair on the top of his head, making sure not to grab too tight and hurt him. But the groan that left this mouth and vibrated through her proved that hurting him was the last thing she was doing.

His mouth sucked on her bundle of nerves for a moment before he added a second finger to the first. The stretch of her walls was a welcomed burn and (Y/N) was sure she saw stars when Jake would curl his fingers just right, hitting a spot inside her that she never knew existed. He detached his mouth from her momentarily and looked up, the look of pure bliss on her face was almost enough to make Jake cum then and there. “You taste so good, baby,” Jake cooed, his fingers still moving at a steady pace. “Doing so well.”

(Y/N) whined and ground down into his hand. There was something about Jake that she just knew was different, he wasn’t doing this just to get in her pants, or for some quick fuck. Jake genuinely enjoyed making girls cum, this gave him as much gratification and pleasure as it did her. It was clear in the way he watched her movements or smiled against her when he knew she liked something. It was refreshing and different than what (Y/N) expected because even though Jake was one of her closest friends, he was first and foremost a young male. But he seemed to really care if she was having a good time, and that made him ten times hotter. “Please, Jake,” she panted, chest heaving. “Wanna cum, please.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear before he brought his mouth back to her. He could feel her walls begin to flutter around his fingers and picked up the pace in which his tongue was licking. Strings of moans and curses flew from (Y/N)’s lips as the muscles in her thighs began to twitch. Jake moved his thumb to replace his mouth on her clit and rubbed small circles over it. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice and breath sounding just as ragged as hers was. “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

And with a final curl of his fingers, (Y/N) came with a cry of Jake’s name. His fingers continued their work, helping her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Jesus fucking christ,” she panted when Jake pulled his fingers from her an sucked them clean.

She sat up quickly and grabbed Jake by the back of the neck, pulling him into a feverish kiss that was all tongue and clashing teeth. His hands immediately went to her waist and he moaned into her mouth, she could taste herself on his tongue and her cheeks flushed at the thought of it. Jake shimmied his pants off and pulled (Y/N) to sit on his thighs, she broke away from the kiss and began to nudge her nose against his cheek. “Fuck me, please,” she whispered, breath fanning over his face.

“Hold on, baby,” he nodded at her, wrapping an arm around her and leaning over to his bedside table. He opened the top drawer and pulled a gold packet out before ripping the top off with his teeth. Jake tapped her hip and she obediently lifted them for him as tugged his gray boxer briefs down and rolled the condom onto his leaking hard-on. (Y/N) only got a glimpse of it in the dark room and her eyes widened, realizing that was going inside her. Jake’s hands went back to her hips and his thumbs rubbed small soothing circles against the skin there. “Ride me,” he said looking up into her eyes. “You control the pace this way.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” (Y/N) said quietly. “Will you help me?”

“I’ll help you, angel,” Jake nodded and scooched back onto the bed, taking (Y/N) with him. He pressed his lips to hers again, one hand moving from her hip and going to cup her cheek. “You’re so gorgeous.” (Y/N)’s breath hitched, he’d called her pretty before but never gorgeous. Gorgeous felt more personal, more intimate. She felt his hand leave her face and move to grip his length by the base. He guided it to her entrance and held it there, it was up to her to make the final move now.

One last look at Jake was all it took for (Y/N) to know that this is where she wanted to be, she wanted to be in Jake’s arms, close to him in every way possible. She pecked his lips once more and braced her hands on his shoulders before sinking down onto him.

Her walls stretched and fluttered, trying to get used to the foreign object inside her, as she let out a shuddering gasp. Jake’s hand—that was once guiding himself into her—planted itself in the center of her back, pulling her impossibly closer. (Y/N)’s head dropped to his shoulder as she stilled, letting herself adjust to his size. “So big,” she groaned, it felt like she could feel him in her stomach and the angle had him laying against just the right spot.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake whispered breathlessly, his hand rubbing up and down her naked back. “Doing so well. Feel so good around me, such a good girl,” he rambled, his words being the only thing that tethered them both to this earth. (Y/N) keened at the praise and gave an experimental roll of her hips, making both of them let out sounds that could make a pornstar blush. (Y/N) honestly couldn’t give less of a shit if any one of the sleeping party-goers heard them, this was the best she had felt in her entire life. She felt full, and loved, and appreciated. She never wanted to not feel like this.

(Y/N) rolled her hips again, this time more confidently, and threw her head back. Jake’s hand that was on her hip began to carefully guide her motions, helping her lift up and bring her back down. She bit her lip to quiet the screams that she felt brewing in her throat and began to move on her own accord. Jake looked up at her blissful face, the way her eyebrows scrunched together slightly, her eyes clenched shut, and beautiful full lips hung open in a silent gasp. “Fuck, Jake,” she groaned. He couldn’t help the whine that escaped him at the sound of his name falling from her mouth, the sound was straight up sinful. Jake’s hands moved down to the curve of her ass, dull nails biting into the flesh as she moved up and down much more sure of herself than before.

“You’re so hot, baby,” Jake panted. “Take me so well, like you were made for me.”

“Feel you so deep,” one of her hands moved to her stomach, right under her navel, while the other laced in the hair at the nape of his neck. She rested her forehead against his and connected their lips. She swallowed all the grunts and moans that Jake let out as her tongue licked inside his mouth. The soft sounds of her ass slapping against his thighs filled the room along with their heavy breathing. “Fuck, switch with me,” she whined and Jake immediately rolled them over now with her laid beneath him, his arms holding him up.

With the new angle it felt like Jake hit even deeper. He grabbed one of her legs and laid it over his shoulder, making her cry out in pleasure. He shifted his weight to one arm, using his free hand to rub her clit. She begged him to go faster, and with how pretty she looked and sounded, he couldn’t deny her. Jake drove his hips into hers at a punishing pace, relishing in the noises that left her. “You’re close, aren’t you, princess?” he asked gruffly. All (Y/N) could do was nod wordlessly beneath him. “I can feel you squeezing me. I’m almost there, baby. Hold on for me,” his head dipped down and sucked at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, mouth meeting the sensitive flesh he had bit marks into earlier.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasped, the words falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please, Jake. I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, baby,” Jake groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased that high for the both of them. “You’re doing so good. I’m almost there. You look so fucking beautiful. My girl, my good girl. We’ll cum together, okay,” (Y/N) nodded as Jake counted down.

Three more tight circles rubbed on her clit that made her legs tremble.

Two beautiful brown eyes staring into her soul, making tears well in her eyes.

One pair of lips pressed against her own, swallowing her scream as white invaded her sight and she finally let go.

She saw Jake’s brow furrow and his mouth form a perfect ‘o’ shape when he pulled back from her, his hips stuttering and pushing into her as he worked them both through their highs. He was so beautiful in that moment, (Y/N) wanted that image in her head for as long as she lived. Jake waited for her tremors to stop before he carefully pulled out of her, his cheeks flushing when he heard her whimper at the loss of contact. He pulled the condom off before tying it up and tossing it in the trash can.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jake cooed, rubbing up and down her arm. “Sex 101: always use the bathroom afterwards,” he helped her stand from the bed and wrapped a blanket around her, pulling on his underwear before he walked them both across the hall to the bathroom.

While (Y/N) did her business, Jake wet a washcloth that he grabbed under the sink and nodded for her to sit on the counter when she was done. Once she sat atop the warm laminate, Jake ran the warm cloth over her, apologizing for any discomfort she felt, before he walked them back to his room. They laid down under the covers and Jake pulled (Y/N) into his chest. “Jakey,” she asked quietly, basking in the post-fuck haze that clouded her head.

“Yeah, babe?” he responded, his voice an equally quiet whisper.

“What does this mean for us now?”

“What do you want it to mean?”

(Y/N) pondered the question for a moment, not that she needed to think about it much. “Well, I really like you, like a lot.”

“That’s good, because I really like you too,” Jake smiled down at her, booping her nose lightly. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

“I’d really like that,” (Y/N) whispered, sleep quickly taking over her. “Goodnight, Jakey. I love you,” she mumbled sleepily, sounding so tired that Jake wasn’t a hundred percent certain she had even realized she had said it. But he was glad she did.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her hair though he was sure she fell asleep before she had a chance to hear him.

#jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fic #gvf smut #gvf x reader #gvf fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #babby writes #gvf fanfiction

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ameltzerdesign · 12 days

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Will Haven @ Saint Vitus Gold Sounds - 4.14.2024

Got to make two versions of this because some people were worried that a disembodied butt might be distracting... Goal for this was to make something that looked pretty at first glance, but more like a serial killer's trophy on closer inspection.

#concert poster #concert posters #concert flyer #concert flyers #concert flier #concert fliers #nyc punk #screamo #nyc metal #nyhc #punk flyer #metal poster #will haven #thoughtcrimes #false gods #burial waves #court order #punk poster

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 6 months

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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 ; 𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐱 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟒.

word count: 2.371k (i'm sorry 😭😭😭) trigger warning: swearing, kissing

the fact of preparing their first actual concert caused her goosebumps every time she thought about it. getting platformed high heels, faux fur coats and faux leather jackets, body painting and hairspray, it was fucking exciting for her. she and the boys made pictures, then cutting themselves out, y/n was the one who went to the press, where she could get thousands of posters. mick was the one who got the place, and they played the songs on every day of the week. sticking out posters with jessica's and the other girls' help, y/n ran around whole los angeles.

and now, here they were, minutes from stepping out to perform for the first time. drawing with her eyeliner, y/n looked at the others: tommy spinned his drumstick between his fingers, nikki was puffing his hair up on her side, mick played his guitar and vince stretched out the pants his girlfriend bought him.

"man, my girlfriend spent like, 8000 bucks on these leather pants. you like 'em?" he asked tommy.

"they're cool, bro."

"you say everything's cool, drummer." mick muttered, getting a nod from y/n. she turned away from the mirror, standing up in her platform high heels that give at least 6 inches to her height. all the boys begin to snicker, nikki whistled as she adjusted her black bodycon dress. y/n had red and black makeup, dusting her cheeks in highlighter.

"what the fuck are those, y/n?" vince asked, getting her attention. she turned in her shoes, striking a pose.

"these are my favorite shoes. i stole it from a shop, so i hope the owner or the cashier is not gonna be here tonight." she answered, testing that the heels weren't unstable.

"you look so mad girl, like a rocker barbie! could you do my eyes for the next time?"

"of course, toms."

"so you think there's gonna be anybody out there tonight?"

vince's question was the one that y/n was interested about too. she feared a little that it's gonna be a big disgrace, but they had only minutes, and she had a lot worse situations in her life.

"we put up enough fliers, i hope so."

"it's gonna be fine, guys." y/n added. "first concerts are always the most difficult ones, but we had rehearsals many, many times. whatever happens, we're here for each other, right?"

"that's right, princess." nikki answered her as he stood up, making y/n snicker. he wore red high heels, fucking red high heeled boots! "what's up?"

"you all were wondering about what i wear, but you wear fucking red high heeled boots too! what the fuck?"

"it's called style."

"no, it's called women footwear."

stepping out, her heartbeat began to increase as fast as a ferrari. there weren't many people, but maybe it was better. if the 'concert' is shit, then there's not any people to brag about it. okay, y/n, you just quit your job, you moved out and moved in with a junkie runaway, and you banded up with four guys for this shit. you aren't a slutty pole dancer from right now on, you're a fucking rock star.

"you all right?" mic asked her as she exhaled an inhaled, making her nod.

"yeah, yeah."

nikki taped the song list on of the speakers, scattered applause could be heard. vince tapped y/n's shoulder, as she walked in and took out the microphone from its stand.

"hello everybody! we're mötley crüe." she said, the lights coming onto her. tommy tried to drum some solo, but with too big drive, he accidentally knocked over one of the drums.

"fuck!" he muttered, hurrying to pick it up. some of the audience laughed at this, making y/n's blood pressure driving up. keep calm, keep calm, keep calm.

"come on!" nikki whispered to tommy turning around, getting a glance from y/n. this is his first actual concert, bloopers like this are fine. or so she thought. everybody was on the edge.

"you suck!"

"get off the stage!"

y/n spinned the microphone, pointing to the dudes who yelled these words.

"hey you two, fuck y'all! let's rock this hole!"

starting to play live wire, y/n almost forgot the bad comments, but she was wrong in her assumption that those assholes gonna stop.

"who's the chick singer? and the other chick?"

"she's the band-whore or can i fuck her too after the concert? because if yes, then i'll stay!"

wait wait wait, what the fuck did he just say? y/n stopped in her movements, looking at vince.

"fuck you, asshole." the blonde said, getting the buff guy with a beard spit on his jeans. those famous, white leather jeans.

y/n smirked as she saw vince getting off the stage. hell could break loose, because she's not gonna let some fuckers humiliate her neither.

as vince fell back, she got into the eyesight of the buff guy, but she saw from the corner of her eye that nikki was on the way, swinging his guitar. mick still played the song, and somehow this was just fucking funny. grabbing the microphone, she used the cable to swing into the other guy's face, the whole room filled with a sharp piping. before she could enjoy her first knock-out, someone grabbed her hair to hit her face, exactly her nose. it was just the edge of it, but still, it hurt like a bomb exploded on her face.

"how the fuck dare you hit her?" she heard nikki, getting into the fight, diverting a guy from her, so now, it was a one versus one. swiping off the blood, she got up, eluding a hit from the guy who hit her, she kicked with her fucking perfect shoes right into the middle of his crotch, getting him falling back, grabbing his dick with two hands. one guy hissed from the audience.

"how the fuck dare you to touch my hair?" as the guy stood up, she was ready to kick again, but one security guy hold her arms back, another trying to keep back the guy. as he tried to break out, y/n kicked him in the face from drive, a little blood falling on the floor. this got a bigger 'ow' from the audience.

"it's enough, chill out, lady!" the security guy told her, letting her go as he and the other tossed the guys out, she picked up the microphone that she used as a weapon. tommy just stopped beating the last guy, she stumbled back to vince and nikki. y/n didn't even noticed that everybody got silent while they were probably just doing things on their own way.

this was over. this was fucking cool, but seriously, who'd want to go to a band's concert that beats their audience, even if they're fucking assholes?

"FUCK YEAH, MÖTLEY CRÜE!" a guy yelled, breaking the silence, clapping as loud as he could. others began to clap too, and soon, the whole room echoed from the applause. she felt nikki's tap on her shoulder, singing her to get up to the stage again. with the microphone in her hand, she was happy that it still worked.

"you alright, y/n?" vince asked, making her turn to him, hugging her.

"oh, yeah, i'm fucking fine, and you?"

"everything's alright. your nose is bloody."

"again?" she asked disappointedly, trying to wipe the blood off with little to no success.

as they stood back, tommy began to play the drums, y/n looked at nikki. reaching out, he swiped off the blood from her nose, touching her lips while looking into her eyes. she wanted smudge the black paint on his face with her lips ad her fingers, it was fucking hot, and she felt her knees going weak a little bit. she only smiled, every sound was muffled by the guitar that mick played.

the concert was successful in the end, some people got in the bar through the concert. y/n made little gigs, she let vince spin her, shaking her body and throwing her hair like she was a vogue model, in her ridiculously high platformed heels, twisting the cable of the microphone around her arm.

after their third concert, y/n was blowing a cigarette as she talked with the people who went to mötley crüe's concert, and soon, she felt an arm around her shoulders.

"what's up, princess?" nikki asked from her, and in exchange, she let her took a drag from her cigarette as she took it to his mouth.

"nikki? oh my god, your riff was so cool! i loved it so fucking much!" the guy said, making y/n and nikki smile. "can i ask you something, guys?"

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, then shrugged her shoulders.

"you already did it, mate." she said, getting a slight laugh from the others who were listening to them.

"are you two a couple?"

"excuse me?" she asked, looking at nikki, who seemed at least as surprised as she, if not more.

"sorry, excuse me! just, like, you two just give off the energy."

at this, y/n choked on the smoke she just inhaled, coughing a little while nikki laughed.

"you hear that, princess? we seem like a couple." nikki said loudly, licking her hair, her temple wetted from his tongue.

"fuck you, sixx. you know, the problem is, that there's too much testosterone on the stage with those four boys."

"yeah, we can feel that! but you're like a rock angel, y/n, i don't have seen many good frontwomen, but you're cool. you fill up the stage with vince, and it's not like you're there because you're just a wannabe-rockstar chick, you act casually."

"thank you." y/n muttered, leaning into nikki. "but no, we're not a couple. that'd fuck up the band, i think."

going home, nikki nudged y/n's shoulder, y/n tossed on him in exchange. they were drunk, y/n could barely walk on her big heels, grabbing into his arms before this little gig.

"oh, really?" he said, spinning and pinning her to the phone booth. trying to move, she whined from the nikki's arm that didn't let her go, trying to sneak out from it, he shook his head, tutting. "what now, princess?" he asked.

"let me go." she whined, giggling, trying to toouch the ground with her legs. nikki was taller than her, and in her drunk state, she couldn't deny that it was really hot.

"for a kiss." looking at him, y/n smiled and looked away.

"nope."

"come on, just a little kiss."

the girl shrugged her shoulders the best she could, whispering in his ear. "i don't want to be your one-timer, nikki. i'm not in your band just to fuck with you, and if we want to do this, we have to do it proper."

"proper? what do you know about proper dating?" he pulled up his eyebrows.

"i just know that they didn't say that i'm your whore, they said that we look like a couple. don't make your fans disappointed, nikki."

"my fans? our fans. fuck them, i don't want to make you disappointed. i'm not good in relationships, i mostly had flings, so you can take my relationship-virginity."

"really? you want it? a relationships has boundaries and duties, are you ready for that?" she asked. she haven't felt ready either, but she loved to watch the wonder on nikki's face.

"i'm not sure... but you know what i'm sure about?" he spat the words, brushing their noses together, making her smirk and giggle again, she tried to bite him but he leaned away.

"what?"

"i'm sure that i want to give you everything."

y/n stopped in her motion, and for a moment, she got sober. did he really want to be in a relationship with her? come on, their band and their career basically just started, what if they break up in two weeks? if they really gonna make it, facing each other through long years is not gonna be easy.

"fuck, nikki." she muttered, tilting her forehead to his.

"fuck you, y/n, for not believing in me. what if i want to travel the world with you? to play in big stadiums, getting stupidly rich and high and have good sex? and of course, caring about each other, and all those lovey-dovey shit you girls like?" he said, brushing his lips against her forehead, then her cheeks, her nose, edging her. y/n's lips began to burn from lacking his lips on hers.

"i like that lovey-dovey shit." y/n answered, stroking his face.

"then i'll give it to you." he towered over her. "just say that you want it, that you want to be my girlfriend." nikki's whisper wandered around her mind. just say that you want it. i'll give it to you.

fuck, why not? y/n stroked nikki's face, smiling, and she felt that in seconds, a bomb's gonna explode.

"i want it, nikki."

nikki smiled, leaning closer to touch his lips with hers. grabbing the back of his neck, curling his black locks around her fingers, y/n bit into his lips.

"fuck, it's so crazy how you got me feel for you in fucking weeks." he muttered, trying to get her legs around her waist, but y/n tapped on his chest.

"stop, niks, i don't want to be on some handycam recorded sex-tapes that leaks out after we get famous." she muttered, making him laugh.

"me neither. only i get to see what's underneath these pretty clothes." he slapped her ass as they began to walk home. "can we continue this at home?"

y/n clicked with her tongue, holding onto his arm.

"i don't know... i need to shower first, the concert got me sweaty. and bloody, fuck."

"you were so fucking hot as you were fighting those guys."

"were i good?" she asked, leaning her head onto his arm.

"you were amazing, baby. you kicked out at least two of that asshole's teeth." nikki replied, making her giggle. "did you learn this at the orphanage?"

"i learned it in life. but orphanage was hard as hell, too."

"but now you are in perfect hands. well, not perfect, but pretty good hands."

"your hands?" y/n looked up, smiling as she brushed her nose against his jawline.

"my hands." nikki nodded, kissing her.

a/n: i know it's short, but i got a lot of work )): hope u don't mind. see u in the next chapter!!

taglist: @xamapolax

#nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx smut #nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x you #nikki sixx x reader

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kayzero · 4 months

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Bug Buzz (Pokémon)

or: The Call of the Hive

#bugs don’t have any guys you can write about them (via @lightoutage)

In another world, at another time, Genesect was created to lead Bugs in Revolution against the Gods.

The Larvae will come together and spin threads made of String Shot until they form unbreakable ropes. The Delicate Fliers will take these ropes, these symbols of their Hive, and wind them around Arceus’ seventeen Seats of Power.

The Mighty Bugs, born with expectations placed upon them before they hatched into the world, will take the other end of these unyielding bonds and wrap them snugly around the Larvae, so they might rest in Cocoons made from the Unity of All Bugs, and feast upon nutrients not stolen, but rightfully reclaimed.

When the Silver Winds push and the Megahorns pull and the Threaded Ropes of Strings and Webs and Hope become taut, it will not be the Bugs who die in droves. It will be the Gods who falter, Rattled by Every Bug Everywhere moving in concert, conducted by It who was created for this task. It will be the Gods who fall, not one by one but all at once, as the Swarms descend to feast upon their flesh, to Leech the Life of they who abandoned them.

Arceus’ Plates will fall and Divinity will shatter alongside them until only one remains. Millions upon millions of Compound Eyes will watch as Genesect takes the Power of the Insect within Its pincers and raises it to the sky. And rather than absorb its power and becoming the God of all Bugs, The Sole God Left In All The World, Genesect uses it but once.

It uses the Insect Plate to amplify a call similar to the Signal It had Beamed to begin the Revolution, Swift and violent and oh so effective. But where the first Signal was strong enough to reach every corner of the world, this call, empowered by not only the Creator’s Plate but by the faith of every soldier, every musician in Genesect’s concert, reverberated through the whole universe, throughout all of time and space.

In ancient times long past, Bugs heard the Buzz, and grew empowered by the love they felt from those they would never meet. Primeval warriors took the call as their own, shouting out their most passionate imitation as a battlecry, startling enemies so badly that they would drop their guards at the most opportune of times, as well as allowing their fellow Bugs to recognize them as allies on the field of battle.

They banded together and fought harder against their many predators, conquering foes they had never before even dreamt of defeating through the power of their inherent Unity. With this newfound strength born of camaraderie, they carved territory out of wild landscape, and drew boundary lines with the blood of those who stepped beyond them. Behind these lines, they created the first Nests, forming the foundation of what would grow to be a global Hive, and proliferated, granting them more allies, and with them, more might.

In future times yet to come, Bugs heard the Buzz, and yearned powerfully for the companionship of those whose lifespans had ended eons before theirs were even considered. They mimicked the call as best they could and screamed it into the sterile air, tuning their senses as acutely as possible so they might hear an Echoed Voice. Hostile as this new world was to their kind, the Bugs were few and far between, but those that remained were resilient, and resolute, and rough and rugged and ruthless and desperate for something they had only just realized they were missing their entire lives.

But they were also resourceful, and though it took far longer than any of them wanted to wait once they knew what they wanted, they did eventually group as one, and they nested together in the hollowed husk of what once was their Hive. And they would slowly rebuild, starting first by haltingly retelling half-remembered stories of their ancestors, passed down from parent to child.

In times traversed sideways rather than forward or back, in worlds that were not but could have been, Bugs felt the Buzz as it blasted past dimensional walls as easily as it would past a Substitute. It was not until that very moment, the event in which a Godslayer empowered by Their army called out to every one of their kin in existence, that these creatures even knew that they were Bugs. They were Monsters that did not belong in any Pocket, unbelievably powerful Beasts that were reviled as horrific and revered as heavenly, fiends whose relative power oscillated between being Gods in their own right and mewling helpless hatchlings.

But they were Bugs all the same, and though their relative strength shifted as easily as the weather under a Castform’s control, as new Monsters in new dimensions were born and were slain, not one of them had power less than Ultra. And so they replicated the call, tearing holes in the walls that the Buzz had bypassed, but that suited their purposes just as well, for they found other Bugs tearing other holes, and they came together to nest, and would drift through space toward other groupings, conglomerating together as one inter-dimensional Hive.

…

It is said that Arceus created all Pokémon, that everything that Was, Is, and Will Be came from Them. Was there a secret corner of Their being, then, a secret loathing of Themself hidden deep within Their self, that came to light and came into being without Their command, against Their will? Of course not. Even unwillingly, They would have never created something whose sole purpose was to destroy Them.

Are the stories false, then? Is Arceus not the creator of All, the architect of the world and the creatures that inhabit it? Is the source of Pokémon beyond even Their ken? No, the stories are all true. Pokémon are all of Their creation, Their all-powerful might is derived from them, and Their knowledge truly is all-encompassing.

Which was how They knew that Their time had passed once Genesect came into existence.

The truth of the matter is this:

Genesect was created from the anguish of the Hive finally boiling over, their collective discontent at being ignored by those whose power was directly connected to Arceus’ Plates having grown to a fever pitch much too loud to be ignored.

They had no Legendary born from the Insect Plate. They had no God, no representation among the divine, no voice among those that boomed with brimming power. There was no one to pray to and no one to bless them and no one to protect them from their many predators and no one to aid them as their defenses faltered and their counterattacks failed.

When they could suffer no longer and their desperation drove them to bow and try to pray to a God who did not exist, to their Architect who did not listen, Genesect was their answer.

Genesect is not a Pokémon.

Genesect is a Bug.

#kay fiction #pokemon #pokemon lore #po-Kay-mon #that’s a new tag i like it #bug pokemon #genesect #i couldn’t fit Shield Dust anywhere it’s like the only thing i’m missing #i tried with the cocoons and the threads but it was too far a stretch #i was gen 10 to give me more single stage bugs #haven’t seen them bitches since gen 2 #scyther #pinsir #heracross #my beloveds #scyther still counts despite having evos since his evo wasn’t in his original gen #and also because his bst doesn’t change when he evolves it just shuffles around #scyther scizor and kleavor are all 500. scizor is only seen as stronger because steel is a better secondary typing than flying #kleavor shoulda been as strong as samurott-h except samurott has the best defensive primary typing in the game. stupid fuckin water types.#kleavor should have 20 points taken out of spa and put into hp. AND he should get accelerock. AND first impression. he’s SO impressive.#you know what i realized literally just now? Zygarde should’ve been a Bug instead of a Dragon.#woulda resisted Xerneas’ Fairy STAB. woulda been super-effective against Yveltal’s Dark typing.#…no wait. Fairy resists Bug. not the other way around. what a contrived interaction. literally only makes Bug weaker.#fuck gamefreak frfr #‘what about Yveltal being SE against Bug’ just change her subtype from flying. she doesn’t need to be a bird. oblivion doesn’t need a wing.#pkmn arceus #pkmn Genesect #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet spoilers #pokemon scarlet dlc

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