#and i've been wanting to try this for a long time

[mindovermuses]

This is definitely something that I needed to hear and always need to try and remind myself if I can.

Alpha wave COVID and now long-COVID destroyed my ability to get inside of the heads of the characters I used to write. I can write about them from an outside perspective but can no longer tap into a unique voice and personality for each of them, nor can I utilize these things for characters I had already been writing. I'm trying everything I can to re-teach my brain how to slip into the persona of these other characters, but it's no longer fluid and comes out feeling forced.

I was writing a book that I was so excited about and had countless other ones outlined. I used to write interactive fanfiction (RP) for multiple characters ranging from mainstream fandoms to the Silmarillion... Writing had been my hobby since I was a child and I still have stories that I wrote from when I was around 8-10. Hell, I was in a writing group that was arranged by a published author who saw talent in each of our writing after a fairly large contest and pushed us together because that kind of support group is what made her and her writing friends stronger, leading to getting published.

Having all of that stolen from me, along with the physical disabilities I've also developed from the same conditions has been soul-crushing, to say the least. Losing such a large part of my identity- my favorite hobby... Watching my dreams of becoming a traditionally published author slip away all because someone I knew went on a cruise and came back sick with a "strange, horrible respiratory infection that tested negative for anything the doctors had tests for at the time" weeks before the first U.S. lock down.

My disability journey started in 2020, so I guess happy 5 year disability awareness month to me? Maybe I'll clean my too-heavy wheelchair since the insurance wouldn't approve an ultralight model. Or maybe I'll get around to decorating my forearm crutches...

But, I can't dwell on the negative. Now for some good stuff!

At least my new disability state ID card will be delivered soon. I can't believe no one ever told me about it before and I had to discover it while looking into whether I'd rather take the train into Chicago or drive for one of my specialist appointments and saw they had a program where disabled people could get reduced Metra/CTA/Pace fares with a certain class of ID card.

Looking into it, we were even able to show the temporary paper copy of my card to the County Assessor's Office to get a $2000 disability credit applied to our property taxes each year, starting next year! Can apparently also get reduced price license plates and use it to prove my medical status for other programs I want to apply for.

This is in IL for me, so if you're disabled in IL and your doctor/specialist will fill out a form that details the level of your disability for the state (benefits vary based on which level you're at), you can get your ID for free! If you're not in IL, check and see if your state has anything similar.

Anyway this disability pride month I would like to shoutout disabled folks whose creativity has suffered because of their condition. I’m talking people with hand tremors and pain that stop them from drawing, knitting, and playing instruments. People whose thinking has become so disorganized that nothing they write makes sense to other people. People with chronic pain who can no longer dance. People so over medicated in a fruitless attempt to maintain stability that the wells of their imagination have run dry.

I see you and I love you. You are more than your creative output. You are not a shell of what you used to be. You are a whole, complete person, regardless of what your creativity has been, is now, or will be in the future.

[bbgsaja]

⳽ωɩtᥴᖾ ᥙρ (ᙖᥲᑲყ ᔑᥲʝᥲ x ᖴ!ᕼᥙᥒtᥱɾ!ᖇᥱᥲᑯᥱɾ) ρt 己

summary - you've fallen for your rival band's rapper and the other girls are in similar positions, can you convince him not to side with Gwi-Ma? warnings - none

part one • part three

"How is a Huntrix girl so bad at this?"

You glared up at Baby's smirking face, though there was no real heat behind it, "This is different!"

As you tried coordinating your steps, you accidentally skipped one and messed the whole movement up, tumbling forward. You face-planted the ground, earning laughter from the demon.

"These games are dumb anyway," you grumbled as you stood back up, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Baby chuckled, then smirked at you, "Or maybe you just suck."

You smacked his arm hard.

The last few days had been a blur. In between practices for the Idol Awards show and juggling your secret dates with the Saja Boys rapper, you had been so occupied that time just flew by.

You found out that the other girls were guilty of the same thing when you were attempting to sneak back into the tower one night.

All four of you met by the elevator.

And just stared at each other.

"So..." You clasped your hands together. "Shall we go up?"

The elevator ride to the top was awkward. Your eyes darted from the mirror to the lights to the floor buttons, everywhere except your bandmates' faces. Theirs seemed to do the same, and the air was thick with tension.

As soon as the doors opened you all scattered, sprinting to your rooms. Slammed doors echoed throughout the penthouse.

A few minutes later, four doors opened and you all emerged, speaking simultaneously and pointing at each other. Not a single word was understood, except for 'store', 'walk', and 'stars'.

"Wait!" Rumi yelled, stopping all of you from talking. "Where was everyone?"

"The park," you blurted.

"Grocery store," Mira mumbled.

"A walk?" Zoey tried, but she'd always struggled to lie to the group.

"No, where were we really?" Rumi shook her head. "Be honest. I'll go first." She took a deep breath. "I was with...Jinu." She winced, like she expected all of you to rapid-fire insults her way.

You, Mira and Zoey exchanged looks.

"At the arcade..." You started, "...with Baby."

"Mystery and I went for a walk," Zoey admitted, which supported the notion that she could not lie. She just omitted Mystery's name.

The three of you looked at Mira, who was grumbling under her breath. When she noticed you all giving her expectant looks, she sighed heavily.

"Fine! I was with Abby and Romance..." She crossed her arms. "Romance wanted to see the stupid stars...or whatever."

You and Rumi snickered, "You went stargazing?"

The look she gave you both made you quickly shut up, but you couldn't hide your amused smiles. She just groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So...what?" You asked. "We're just all dating them?"

"I mean...they don't seem bad," Rumi offered.

"I told you they were nice demons," Zoey agreed.

"But they're still here for a reason," Mira argued, though she didn't sound so sure of herself.

"Okay," Rumi nodded, "Let's just wait it out then. We don't attack now. Maybe we can, I don't know, convince them to help us stop Gwi-Ma?" She looked so hopeful you didn't want to crush her spirits.

"You mean I have to actually flirt back?" Mira groaned.

You shivered as you thought about the long job ahead of you, "Great...sounds fun."

"I think I can get Mystery on board," Zoey beamed.

"That's because he listens to everything you say!" Mira answered, "You have it easy."

"Yeah, Zoey, you have a golden retriever boyfriend," you rubbed your face. "I've got...a little gremlin with an incredibly high tolerance for spicy food."

"That's better than a lovesick idiot and abs for brains," Mira pointed out.

"True."

After realising that your friends were developing feelings for their respective Saja boys just as you were for Baby, you felt a little better. You weren't the only one who was starting to believe that not everything you'd been taught about demons was true.

"Is that not...hot?" You eyed Baby warily one night when the boys were hanging out in your building.

The rapper looked up from the bowl of ramyeon, "This is supposed to be hot?" He looked back down at the bowl. "I don't think whoever made this added enough spice."

Abby happened to walk past at that moment, and when the smell of the ramyeon reached his nose he promptly passed out.

You looked at Baby.

He shrugged.

You blinked, once, twice. Then you opened your mouth to say something, but stopped short when Zoey walked by with Mystery following closely behind her.

On what looked like a leash.

"He kept barking at and biting random strangers on the street," Zoey explained, "So I have to keep him near me."

You didn't even know what to say to that.

Then you heard sniffing, and jumped when you turned to see Mystery smelling your hair. A low growl emanated from behind you, from where Baby was sitting.

"No, Mystery!" Zoey tugged on his leash gently, and he backed away from you.

The growling stopped.

Abby finally woke up, rising to his feet and stretching. Your eyes dropped to his exposed stomach, only for the growling to resume behind you. You turned to see Baby with his teeth bared at Abby.

"Baby, stop growling!"

"Then tell them to stop annoying me!"

"How are they annoying you?"

"They're standing too close!"

"Too close to what?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You," he growled again, finishing his ramyeon in one very big gulp before grabbing your hand and pulling you to him.

Out of the blue, two voices in complete harmony rang out from the direction of Rumi's room. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"They're singing again. Someone remind them that we're performing two different songs!"

Later that evening, you took Baby to your room to escape the chaos of the others. He instantly reclined on your bed, laying back like he owned the place. You laid down next to him, yelping when he tugged you close and wrapped his arms around you.

Cuddling you like you were a plushie.

"Baby," you tried speaking, your voice muffled by his chest being pressed against your face. Suffocatingly so.

"Hmm?" He hummed, not bothering to move.

You managed to pull away just slightly, at least enough for you to breathe and speak freely, "You don't want the other boys near me?"

"No," he confirmed.

"Why?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before avoiding your gaze when he answered, "I don't remember my human life. I never had a purpose before this band, this mission to...destroy you." His grip tightened on you.

"Everything recently has been about this band, and every new experience in the human world, I shared with them." Finally, his big blue eyes met yours.

"But then I met you. And I started to...feel something different. Something I know they don't feel towards you. So I just want you to be...for me, or whatever." He added that last part to sound casual and nonchalant, as was his trademark attitude.

"Oh," you managed, no other words forming in your mind. The butterflies he gave you bloomed in full force, your heart racing.

"With you, I feel human," he reached up, fingers hovering over your hair. He hesitated, before running his fingers through it, his eyes following their trail.

Your breath hitched at those words, and when his eyes flicked to yours to gauge your reaction, he found nothing but adoration in them. He'd expected a little fear, maybe hesitance, some disgust...but there was none of that.

"Then stay with me and be human," you finally breathed out, when your brain caught up and reminded you how to speak.

His eyes widened a fraction, "You would give your heart to a demon?"

"It was yours from the first time we hung out alone together."

He surged forward and kissed you. Not gently, but clumsily. It was a fervent kiss, a mess of tongue and teeth. It was driven by raw emotion, something he hadn't felt since becoming a demon. He wanted to consume you, to bind you to him, to make you one with him.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless and panting, cheeks burning. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it might burst from your chest to place itself in his hands.

"Tell me...how to fight Gwi-Ma."

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ call it survival

➤ summary: you were just trying to survive, keep your head down, follow the rules, and stay invisible. Rafe Cameron never played by the rules, and he became your savior before you could fully break

➤ w/c: 9k.

➤ warnings: domestic abuse, graphic violence, emotional manipulation, descriptions of blood and bruises, insults, mental health, self-doubt, reader is over 18, slow burn romance, kook trio causing problems, enemies to lovers, Rafe's redemption arc, very protective and down bad Rafe

➤ a/n: so far it was the most complicated work i've ever written and i reeeeally hope that my obsessed-with-insanely-long-fics people will enjoy reading it.

masterlist

Your father never explained why you had to move to the Outer Banks. One day you were packing up your life in your old town, stuffing your belongings into worn-out suitcases, and the next you were staring out the window of his truck as he drove past unfamiliar beaches and houses larger than anything you'd ever lived in. It was not your choice to leave, but you knew better than to question him.

What little you did know came in fragments. Late-night phone calls, where you heard him arguing about money with unknown people, his decision to lock all of the doors even when you were home, or the way he seemed to be nervous about other people getting too close to the two of you. 

And once you found a business card. It was creased and water-damaged, the edges curling up like it had been forgotten—or hidden. The name on it meant nothing to you, but the logo said Bayside Collections. A bank, maybe. When you asked him about it, his whole face changed. His jaw tensed, and he yanked the coat from your hand so fast it made you stumble, snapping at you to never touch his things again and mind your business. 

He was secretive, scared. That’s why he never let you make new friends, he never let you go anywhere after work, and you were forbidden from going out.  

Life in the Outer Banks wasn’t easy. You didn’t fit in with the Kooks, and you weren’t really one of the Pogues either. You kept to yourself, working whatever shifts you could find, even if your father still took all of your money, and making sure to never step out of line. Your father didn’t tolerate mistakes. If he came home angry, you made yourself small, kept the house clean, and stayed out of his way, locked up in your room when your heartbeat skyrocketing. But it never mattered because something would always set him off, and when he snapped, it finished badly.

Most of the time, his anger came in the form of words—harsh, cutting reminders that you were useless, that you should be grateful he hadn’t left you behind, that you were already too grown to be this dumb and still dependent on him, even though he was the one who tied you down to that pathetic excuse of a life. But sometimes, his grip on your wrist was too tight, his shoves were too hard, and he didn’t hesitate to slap you for “opening your mouth.”

You thought about running once. Just taking off and disappearing. But where would you go? You had no money, no plan, and basically no friends. And if he found you? You didn’t want to think about that. So you stayed, kept your head down, and avoided anything that could make him look at you the wrong way.

That was before you met Sarah, a damn sunlight trapped in a person, and other pogues who seemed to be the only people who were actually nice to you. You tried to keep your distance at first, afraid of what would happen if your father found out, but she wouldn’t let you. They knew what was happening in your family, seeing the signs of constantly appearing bruises and the way you seemed to be afraid of someone watching you, but they didn’t push, giving you time to open up naturally. 

You were careful, though. You never stayed out too late and never did anything that could get you in trouble, only once in a while skipping a shift just to feel normal with them. 

That night you hadn’t meant to go to the party, but it was too tempting—the way everyone talked about it, the way girls promised to help you get dressed and begged you to let it go for once, and how they, wanting to go there without guys, actually tried to include you—and you couldn’t say “no.” 

So you lied to your father. You practiced your speech for an hour, hoping that he would notice your trembling hands, and then made up a story about a late-night shift where you would get more money, and he, always eager to get more, waved you off.

You didn’t expect Sarah’s brother to be there. He and his friends had never been particularly nice to anyone, and it seemed that they enjoyed making trouble for your friends. Rafe himself, for some reason, awakened some feeling in you that you couldn’t quite understand. The way he was looking at you, curious, as if he couldn’t figure you out, was a bit unsettling, maybe because it was the first time you got any kind of attention from a guy, even if it wasn’t quite a positive one.

 You saw each other only occasionally when you visited his sister at Tanneyhill, always slightly catching him off guard with the way you shyly sat at one of the bar stools in the kitchen, looking so small as if you were afraid to even touch anything. You always looked fragile and cautious, and he couldn’t forget the first time he saw you in his house—the way you looked at him with your pretty, big eyes.

He would stand in the kitchen, carelessly sipping some soda, looking at you, enjoying the way you were squirming under his gaze, pretending to be interested in whatever was in front of you. Maybe it gave him some sense of power, or maybe he was actually enjoying looking at you, and it was something that he didn’t want to admit even to himself. You were still his sister's friend, basically a pogue, and Rafe Cameron didn’t do pogues. 

His thoughts were perplexing him, causing some weird feelings he refused to acknowledge, and instead he did what he used to—turned confusion into mockery, snide comments, and jokes.

So when the party was already dying down, when the kook trio suddenly felt the need to mess with your friends by actually calling the sheriff for whatever reason, you tried to run. You knew that you had to get home as soon as possible, and when Cleo and you were running towards the Twinkie, your mind was already spiraling with possible excuses for your father about the change of plans. But the universe seemed to have different ideas, sending you right into Rafe’s hands.

“Rafe, please.” You almost begged when you felt the weight of his hands around you, tugging you backwards. Your eyes were big and round, staring back at him in that pleading manner. He held your eye contact, and for a split second, you thought that they had softened and that maybe he would actually consider backing up. 

But then it shifted back to its usual appearance—cold, cocky, as if Rafe actually enjoyed seeing you behaving the way you did, the way you begged him. He knew that he couldn’t give it up now, not in front of his friends who were waiting for his sign, not when he already made such a big deal out of it. But such a thought was lingering at the back of his head at the sight of your desperate and scared eyes, and for the first time he didn’t feel the usual content of being the bad guy. 

“Please don’t do it.” You whispered so quietly, your voice seemed too broken even for your own ears.

“Call Shoupe, Kelce.” Rafe said calmly, and his friend obliged immediately, while your heart sank to your stomach. Sarah, Kie, and Cleo became as panicked as you were, all four of you looking at each other in desperation. 

“I can’t get caught. I can’t. Not right now.” Your voice cracked as you shook your head, the realization of what would happen suddenly settling in. Rafe looked at you curiously, slightly tilting his head to the side, as a hint of concern flashed in his eyes. 

But at the end of the day, you were just another Pogue, probably acting way too good to try to make him pity you and panicking over nothing. He shouldn’t care. Shouldn't even think about letting you go. But he did. 

He noticed the way his sister moved her head to the side, telling you something without any words. You looked between her and Rafe, your eyes darted down the street, and then you were running. 

Not quick enough, though. Rafe was hot on your heels, and he easily caught you before you could reach the main road or hide. He gripped you firmly by your upper arms, but not hard enough to hurt you, and held you close with your back firmly pressed to his chest when you two went back to the rest of them. You wiggled in his arms, tried to push him away, ignoring the way your body felt both flushed from closeness to him and pure terror of what he might do. 

“He’s gonna be here in a moment, and he has already called all of your parents.” Kelce points his phone at the girls and you, but if your friends just scoffed, then your shoulders and head lowered in defeat. Your throat tightened as the tears welled up in your eyes, knowing what was yet to come. 

You were not trying to get away from Rafe’s hold anymore, and he didn’t let you go either, knowing that you may try running again. He was observing your reaction, though he didn’t quite understand what was going on or why your friends were looking at you like that. Sure, they weren’t on good terms, constantly giving problems to each other, but never before had he seen such a disappointed and devastated look in his sister’s eyes. Her lips in a tight line, eyes burning holes in his head as if she was one second away from hitting him, but before he could think too much about it, the police car and your father’s truck parked not far away from your group, and you didn’t even lift your head, zoning out and focusing on your shoes. 

“Your parents are going to be here soon.” Shoupe said as he got out of the car, pointing at Kiara, who just rolled her eyes and scoffed. “And you’re going home with your brother.” He then told Sarah, who was equally annoyed. But you didn’t pay attention to any of it because you knew that your father was there and you had no escape this time. 

Your father was seething when he got out of the truck, carelessly leaving the door open and storming towards you, heavy boots hitting against the gravel with every hurried step. His eyes were zeroed in on you, and you felt it even if your own eyes were fixated on the ground. You felt cold sweat covering your skin just from hearing his hard footsteps. 

“Get in the fucking car. Now!” His loud voice cut the air, and everyone got even quieter than before, throwing confused looks at each other. He stopped a few feet away from you with his hands on his hips, licking his lips in a way that made it seem that he held back some words that he didn’t want others to hear. “Did you not hear me, girl?” He yelled again when you didn't move. Your head finally went up, and you subconsciously moved back into Rafe’s chest, seeking some kind of protection from the fire in your father’s eyes. 

Rafe’s hands tightened around your arms, and he felt a weird tugging feeling in his chest from your reaction. You were scared. Scared to the point that he, who was nothing but a pain in your ass, became a better option. Rafe’s mind was racing a hundred miles per hour, looking between you and your father, hearing your uneven breathing, and trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Why did no one say anything, not even Shoupe? 

The Pogues were used to stepping in for each other. They kind of figured out what was happening in your family with your subtle hints and careless excuses. But seeing it in person? They just froze, looking at the scene in front of them helplessly. Shoupe stood closely to them, hands on his hips and head low, eyes on the ground. Letting it slide. Closing his eyes on it as if nothing had happened.

You knew that there was no point in just delaying what was inevitable, so with your head low again, you slipped out of Rafe’s hold before he could even react or protest. Your father’s grip on your forearms replaced Rafe's, but he wasn’t so careful, making you wince in pain. He dragged you to the passenger seat as if you were a child who was misbehaving. There was no point in protesting, asking to be gentler, and especially saying how sorry you were—it always seemed to make him even angrier—so you just followed him until he pushed you inside and slammed the door, barely not hitting you with it. 

Your eyes were stinging with tears, and your head was lowered as you were trying to focus on your shaking hands. You didn’t dare to look up, knowing that your friends, the Kook Trio and Shoupe, saw everything. 

Two days later you were sitting in the kitchen of Tanneyhill, after Sarah begged you to come there to hang out for a bit, promising that Ward and Rose were away on some business trip to Europe and that Rafe was at the golf club with his friends, so it was only her and Wheezie, who was too busy in her room. 

You hesitated, declining it for as long as you could, not really wanting her or anyone else to see the way you looked. Not to mention that your father was still pissed off and gave you a silent treatment after what he had done the night he picked you up. It was always like that, always those emotional swings, when he got violent and then did not talk to you as if it was you who had done something horrible, like it was you who was always wrong. Yet, you thought that you liked these days the most because he acted like he didn’t care and you had more personal space, even if your whole body was aching with bruises.

“We should totally go to that store today. You know, the one I told you about last week?” She said, casual as always, mixing something in her cup. You loved that about her, always grateful that even when she saw the bruises, the distant look in your eyes, she wasn't pushing. She gave you space, just like you asked her to the first time she saw everything. Sarah was a walking light, and whenever you needed it, she gave it to you and did everything to distract you from the darkness. 

“We can, but I don't have money, so…” 

“Oh, stop it. It’s my dad’s card. You think he cares where I spend it?” She rolled her eyes playfully, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and placing an icy glass with a drink in front of you. 

“I don’t want or need you to pay for me. Really. It’s not a big deal.” You refused her offer like you always did. 

“Well, I don’t care.” She tilted her head up in that playful way, biting her lip to hold back a smile. You shook your head, already giving up on fighting with her about it. “I’m gonna change quickly, and we can go, yeah?” 

She left you alone in the kitchen, running up the stairs before you could even say anything, and you let out a sigh. The same moment, as if on command, the front door to the house closed, and Rafe walked into the kitchen, looking as good and crisp as usual. 

Your breath hitched at the sight of him, your hold slightly tightening around the glass. He didn’t even see you yet, stopping in the middle of the room, texting someone on his phone. You took a chance to look at him properly. Your eyes trailed up from his cargo shorts to the blue polo that looked too perfectly tight around his biceps and to the backwards cap. Rafe was attractive, and you hated yourself that your mind automatically wandered in the wrong direction.

Then his head snapped up, as if sensing someone’s eyes, and he froze. You did so too, the moment you understood what his eyes were exactly looking at. 

Your hair or a giant t-shirt did nothing to hide the blossoming bluish bruises on your arms. The jacket that you wore on the way here was way too hot for summer heat, so you took it off the moment you walked in here, thinking that there was nothing that Sarah hadn’t seen before. But now Rafe was here, eyes fixated on your wrists that had marks looking awfully like fingerprints, and you swore you saw the moment a realization settled in him.

“What the hell is that?” Slipping his phone in the pocket of his shorts, he walked closer to you, not hesitating to walk into your personal space or even speak to you like you two weren’t something closer to enemies rather than friends. You turned on the bar stool to sit with your back to him, feeling your heart beating in your ears as you hid your hands under the table. “Turn around.” 

You stayed still, praying for Sarah to come down quicker. 

“It was him, wasn’t it? Your father. I saw your reaction. I heard the way he talked to you.” Rafe mumbled behind you, and it made you turn to face him. His eyes instantly spotted your split lip and a bruise at the side of your jaw that no amount of concealer could fully cover, no matter how hard you tried. His body tensed, slightly straightening up, as if in a defensive way, and he furrowed his brows when he realized something. 

“I didn’t know.” He said, his voice low and suddenly guilty, like he couldn't get the words out of him. “I didn’t know he’d… do that.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, the bitterness too sour to swallow. “Well, now you do. Congratulations.” His jaw clenched. You could see the guilt clawing at his skin like it was trying to crawl out of him. Rafe Cameron, golden boy of the island, rich and careless to everyone and everything, wasn’t used to feeling bad for the aftermath. Not like this.

“I didn’t call the cops for you. I mean, I did, but—fuck, I thought it would be just the way it usually happened.” He admitted, rumbling, hands balling into fists by his sides. “You and the Pogues were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, and I was pissed. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yeah, well, you did.” Your voice cracked suddenly, and your chest tightened, unable to hold back the fact that you did blame him slightly. “You called the cops. He got the call. And then he got me.” Rafe winced like the words physically hit him. And you weren’t trying to make him feel bad, not really. You didn’t have the energy to blame him for your messed-up life because, truthfully, you saw that he didn’t expect such an outcome, and it was the usual way he messed with his sister. You were just too tired of bruises and apologies that never came, tired of rules set by your father, and tired of people thinking they understood when they never did.

But Rafe wasn’t moving. For the first time, he didn’t know what to do or what to say. Hell, he didn’t even understand the feelings that were currently making him sick. 

“I didn’t know.” He repeated, softer this time.

You looked away, fingers curling tighter into fists. “Don’t act like you care. We’re not friends.”

“But—”

“Rafe, don’t you dare talk to her.” That was the moment when Sarah came in, interrupting whatever Rafe was about to say. She was beside you in a second, interlocking your fingers and dragging you up to stay near her. 

“Did you know about her father? Fuck, of course you did.” He laughed bitterly to himself, taking off his cap and running a nervous hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you do anything?” 

“Tell you? Yeah, that’s so funny.” Rafe’s face dropped when Sarah scoffed, dismissively looking him up and down. “Because it’s none of your business, Rafe. Stay away from it.” She didn’t let him say anything else, already guiding you out of the house. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally finished your shift and headed back home. It was a little bit later than usual, but you told your dad about it beforehand, so the only worry for now was a walk back home. 

The night was chilly, the sun had set a long time ago, and you shivered at the wind from the ocean, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. You wrapped your hands tightly around yourself as you looked down the road, which was barely illuminated by a poor-looking light pole. 

It was not a new thing for you to walk home alone at night, but the creepy feeling at the back of your neck never seemed to ease. You had no other choice, as you had no car, and it was way too late for the public transport. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t totally freak you out. Like someone could lunge out at any second, dragging you into the dark before you could even scream, but you simply had to deal with it because you needed the money that your current job offered. Your father was probably already at home, nursing a bottle of beer, not really caring about your well-being, as he told you many times that you were a big girl and could figure it out. 

You thought that you might jump out of your skin when the car on the road didn’t pass you by like they usually did, but it started to slow down until it was right beside you. You started walking faster, tightening your hold on the keys as if it may actually save you, not daring to look back at the car. You felt like you were about to cry because there was no one who could’ve saved you if something went wrong, but then the window rolled down and you heard a familiar voice. 

“Are you fucking insane?” Rafe, always straightforward, asked you, making you stop in your tracks. With your heart beating violently in your chest, you tried to control your breathing, but the look on your face was probably obvious enough for him to know how freaked out you were.

“What do you want?” You glanced at him, thinking about just ignoring his usual attitude and going back home. At the end of the day it was Rafe Cameron, and even if since that accident he seemed to keep his distance and not bother you or your friends anymore, you didn’t trust him fully. It’s been a week since he saw you at his house, a week since Sarah confronted him about you, and a week since he couldn’t get you out of his head.

“Why the hell are you here right now?” Through the darkness you saw his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer to the window above the passenger seat. You took in his appearance for a second—slightly leaned over, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift, he looked so effortlessly hot. 

“Because I’m working, Rafe, and I need to get home now.” You scoffed and started walking again, wondering why you even wasted your time on this. 

“Get in the car.” He moved slowly beside you, glancing at you through the window, but you ignored it completely, keeping your head straight and eyes locked somewhere in the distance, not even turning your head. “Do you want me to get out of here and sit you inside myself? Get in the car, Y/N.” There was no anger in his voice, but he was firm, letting you know that he meant it.

You felt a sudden lump in your throat, maybe because you convinced yourself to be scared of him, or maybe because you hated that you were so exhausted and terrified of being alone on the street that you really wanted to accept his offer. Even if you acted tough in front of your friends, like you got used to your lifestyle, you were tired. Of having no choice, of working your ass off just to give money to your father, and of constantly being scared of him getting angry. You looked at Rafe for a few long seconds, and he didn’t break eye contact—always so sure, so confident. So you stepped over yourself and got in the car. 

It was so warm and so comfortable that your body instantly felt sleepy, surrounded by the woody and musky smell. You shifted uncomfortably under Rafe’s long and sharp gaze while he took you in, looking up and down, probably judging you, before he finally looked back at the road, with his jaw clenched even tighter than before, and started driving. 

“So tell me, why did you think that it was a good idea to go through the fucking cut alone and at night?” His hand tightened on the steering wheel as his eyes flickered back to you again. He hadn’t been able to forget the way you looked that day in his kitchen, arms bare, lip split. The image had buried itself under his skin, and now, seeing you walking alone like it was a normal thing to do, made him suddenly lose his mind all over again.

You squirmed, ignoring the lingering cold and fidgeting with the strap of your bag. 

And of course he noticed that. In a second you heard a scoff leave his lips, as if annoyed, and then something heavy fell on your lap—his grey and warm zip hoodie—and you almost silently mumbled ‘thanks’ before wrapping it around your body. 

“So?”

“I’m working, Rafe. Today it was even later than usual, and what other choice do I have? I need to get home somehow.” You shrugged casually, as if on instinct lowering your head and inhaling the fading scent of the perfume on the hoodie. 

“No—who the fuck lets you do that, huh?” His voice suddenly got bitter, fingers tapping against the wheel, as he looked at you sharply. 

“"Lets" me do that?” You scoffed, confused. “It’s not like anyone cares, Rafe. Not my father, that’s for sure. And the only other people that I know here are pogues and Sarah, and I don’t want to be a burden for them to figure out a safe way for me to get home every day.” 

“This is not okay. You cannot just fucking walk around like a piece of candy. There are bad people on the island. Dangerous, Y/N.” You almost felt like crying from frustration. He clearly was judging you, asking you questions and looking at you as if you were insane. But Rafe clearly did not understand. Not your position. Not your lack of choice. Not that you would’ve given everything to something normal in your life or someone who would actually care. It was just how things were, and, unfortunately, you had to deal with it if you wanted to escape another harsh slap across the face. 

Rafe’s free hand curled into a fist on his knee when he looked at you. How small and fragile you looked, the way he swore your eyes started watering after his words, and you instantly turned your head away from him. He hated it. Hated that he suddenly didn’t think of you as another friend of his sister, but instead he noticed you, and, for some reason, he wanted to help. 

You both fell silent, with Rafe constantly glancing at you and you ignoring it as much as you could. In just a few minutes he parked a little bit away from your house, and you could not be happier about that, knowing that your father would kill you if he saw you in another man’s car. 

“Thank you, Rafe. Um, I really appreciate it. I should go now.” You finally looked at him, for a second losing yourself in his intense gaze, before you snapped out of it and tossed his jacket in the back seat. You reached for a door handle when his voice stopped you once again. 

“When does your shift usually end?”

“At nine, why?” 

“Just asking.” You stared at him for a few seconds, not fully satisfied with the answer. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” The way he said it, his low and almost intimate voice, made your stomach drop, and you were grateful that it was too late for him to see the way your face was heating. 

“Goodnight.” 

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t understand him. 

Because since that day, whenever you stepped outside after your shift, you saw a familiar blue truck waiting for you. 

The first time you were absolutely confused and kind of scared, carefully walking around it with your eyes low on the ground as if you didn’t see him, and it ended up with an argument and Rafe threatening, again, to sit you in his car himself. You knew that there was no point in trying to argue more, because it was a simple and proven fact that if Rafe Cameron wanted to do something, he did it no matter what other people had to say about it. 

For some reason, he liked doing it. He liked that after his own exhausting day, when he was surrounded by the bunch of pretentious assholes, after his dad got him mad over the phone for not doing enough, he could see you. Weird, right? 

Rafe genuinely liked spending time with you and liked how you became more talkative after a few days of him picking you up. Maybe at first it was just guilt pushing him to do that—the guilt for causing you to get hurt, the gnawing reminder that he knew about some private and sick things that happened behind the closed door of your house, yet he couldn’t do anything. 

But then, you were nothing like he expected. Although, truthfully, he didn’t even know what he was expecting. Just to hate you because of your friendship with his sister and her little dumb buddies? Probably, but you were easy to be around—soft-spoken, a good listener, kind, funny, and just… normal. 

God, he needed normal in his life. Craved simple things, meaningless talks where nobody expected anything from each other, and just a comfortable atmosphere. It was weird, but actually good weird.

Sometimes he brought you food, a warm cup of good-smelling tea on a rainy night, which you always took with a shy smile and something like ‘you shouldn’t have to.’ 

He thought it was the least he could do. 

The weeks went by without a eighth of you noticing. You started getting comfortable around Rafe. It seemed like the person who annoyed you at some point was fully gone, and now you saw glimpses of his funny and caring side. You both would sit in the car, sometimes eating, sometimes enjoying the comfortable silence, or just humming to the songs when Rafe chose a long route to your house.

There was, without a doubt, a connection between you two. Something that you silently shared whenever your eyes stayed locked longer than they should have, when your fingers or your knees accidentally brushed. His sudden and genuinely unexpected warmth made you feel weird, and no matter how scared you were to even think about it, you were falling for Rafe Cameron.

He knew and felt it too. That’s why it was hard stopping his hand from reaching out to you whenever you were so close. Hard stopping himself from snapping when he saw another bruise or cut on you. 

Just the way you smiled every time you saw him at the usual spot made him want to do more, made him want to keep that spark in your eyes a little bit longer, because whenever it was time for you to go home, you hesitated and gave him that almost desperate look.

Over time you opened up. He never pushed about your father, though the question burned on his tongue, but he needed to know the truth—he made sure to slowly get you comfortable, make you feel safe around him, and eventually you revealed what nobody else knew. You told Rafe about your father always running away from something, about your constant moving from city to city, and about the fact that he was overcontrolling and had never let you breathe freely. 

He was careful with that theme, letting you pour out your thoughts before so hesitantly mentioning the day it all started and the way your father didn’t even hesitate to act like he did in front of everyone. When you finally got brave enough, the words seemed to flow freely, and you dissociated, with a blank stare talking about everything that happened to you. 

It felt normal to talk to Rafe. Natural. 

The insults thrown like they were nothing, the hitting whenever you disobeyed, or the money that you brought home was suddenly not enough. Around him you didn’t feel like a human, and it was hard to constantly walk on eggshells to do everything right. 

And Rafe listened. Fuming from the inside, gripping the wheel much harder than needed, but he listened and never judged. He looked at you, studying your profile, trying to focus on any little feature of your face that could calm him down. He let you cry. God, he hated crying, hated tears, though when your head tipped toward his shoulder and your body shuddered with little hiccups, he thought that he hated it for a whole other reason. 

This night was not an exception. Everything seemed to be great—the warm sandwiches with your favorite drinks met you in the car, and Rafe was so damn talkative, making you laugh the way you hadn't in a very long time. You didn't want this to end, didn't want to leave his company and go back to your own nightmare.

“Goodnight, Rafe.” You mumbled back when his car parked on the driveway next to yours, away from your father’s eyes. The air felt different, heavy, and for some reason you were barely able to tear your eyes away from his. You tried to take a deep breath to calm your heart down, but you felt your pulse in your ears when he didn’t look away, didn’t even pretend to not stare at you with a smile. 

Rafe’s head slightly tilted to the side, lip caught in between his teeth, as he watched you closing the door of his car and slowly getting closer to your house. The thought lingered at the back of his head, the one that he had been pushing away for probably the last couple of days. His eyes followed you, and when his mind finally said ‘fuck it’ to himself, he got out of the car, quickly catching you before you could reach your house. 

“Wait!” 

You froze, hearing Rafe’s hurried steps behind you, slowly turning back and looking up. His presence was suffocating as his blue eyes were studying your face, making your stomach turn again with that weird feeling. A flush of heat washed over you when Rafe stepped even closer, hands slightly lifting up, as if wanting to touch you. 

And you didn’t step back, even if you should have. His cologne washed over you in that already familiar, calming way. He was taller than you, looming over your body and shielding the lamp from the street with his broad shoulders. You knew what was coming, felt blood rushing in your ears when Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks slowly but without hesitation, but it didn’t make the situation easier. Your mind started racing with thoughts about it being the wrong decision, about you not being able to escape your father’s presence in your life, but it all came to a stop when his lips touched yours. 

You melted instantly against him, lips moving slowly and hesitantly because, with all honesty, you didn’t know how it all worked. Rafe deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him, groaning when his tongue ran across your lip and tasted your sweet lip gloss.

Your hands at first just froze in the air, not knowing whether to place it on top of his hands, or grab his shirt, or wrap it around his neck, or… Yeah, you were overthinking everything again. Your mind went blank, and you just let your hands settle on Rafe’s chest—soft and slightly hesitant, listening to the steady beating of his heart. He smiled against your lips, bringing you closer when his hand found your waist and fully enveloping you in him.

When he pulled away slightly, your breathing was rapid, eyes closed while you savored the moment. Rafe nudged you softly with his forehead against yours, bringing your racing mind back down, and you finally looked at his smug yet soft face. 

“That was… my first kiss.” You admitted hesitantly, savoring the taste of him on your lips.

“It was?” He smirked, playfully pulling you closer to his chest and reaching your lips again, kissing you until you laughed and turned your face away. “You’re cute.”

You looked up shyly, feeling something warm spilling in your chest, and nervously twisting the string of his hoodie between your fingers. “I should go, Rafe.” And just like that, his face dropped. Eyes narrowed slightly, looking behind you at the house that he started to dread, clenching his jaw again. 

“But you don’t have to—”

“I do.” 

He looked back at you, searching your face, and his eyes suddenly seemed sad, tightening his hold on you as if it could help him keep you safe somehow. “At least text me?” His frown deepened, and you instantly reached out to soften the crease in between his brows. 

“Okay. I will.” 

Rafe stood there, after you placed a hesitant kiss on his cheek, hair disheveled and heart pounding against his rib cage, while he was looking at you walking inside. The door behind you closed, and he slowly walked backwards to his car, keeping his eyes on your window, where the lights always turned on after a few minutes of him dropping you off. 

He waited, jaw set tight, an uneasy feeling tugging at him, hands involuntarily curling into fists at both of his sides. Because something wasn’t right. He couldn’t tell what was wrong, but Rafe couldn’t go just yet, standing on someone’s front yard and just staring at your house. 

And then a scream cut through the quiet setting of the street, making Rafe’s blood run cold. 

You walked into the house, cautiously looking around the hallway, feeling unsettled by the weird stillness. You slowly stepped inside, your phone clenched in your hand, praying that your dad was just already asleep or at least lying in front of the TV with a beer bottle in hand, not caring about a single thing in the world. But the second you turned into the living room, he was there.

Standing by the window, curtain pulled away. 

The one that had a perfect view of the street. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and you froze in place when the realization hit you that he saw everything. He saw you in another man’s car. He saw Rafe kissing you. He knew that you were lying to him, and by the awfully calm look on his face, this was the end for you. 

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding from me. Whoring around the island with a rich boy behind my back?” You shook your head as he stepped closer to you slowly, like a predator catching its prey with no ways to escape. You squirmed in the close proximity, shrinking into yourself when his figure loomed above you. 

Your voice was trembling before you even opened your mouth. “Dad, it’s not—please, it wasn’t like that—”

Your head snapped to the side with the force of the slap, skin burning and eyes watering not only from pain but also from how terrified and anxious you were. Your phone fell out of your hand with a thud against the floor, your legs gave out for a second, and your body stumbled back against the wall. The metallic taste of blood blossomed on your tongue. 

Tears blurred your vision when you hesitantly looked back into your father’s cold eyes, full of hate and pure rage. There was not a single part of him that felt bad for abusing you. The person who was there many years ago, when you were still a little girl, was gone. Now it was just an empty shell of a person who was supposed to be your family, your protection. 

“You think this is a game? Didn’t I fucking tell you to keep quiet and not be all over the island while I deal with stuff?” He shouted now, getting all in your face to intimidate you, voice rising with every word. “You think I put food on your table just so you could run around like some cheap slut and ruin everything I’ve worked for?”

You blinked rapidly, chest heaving, trying to stay calm, trying to breathe, but the words bubbled inside of you. No matter how scared you were, the straight-up lies made you all worked up, because not once did he do anything to provide for you. “You didn’t work for anything! You just drink and yell and—and hit me when something doesn’t go your way—”

His eyes darkened.

“Ungrateful bitch.” The words spat from his mouth like venom. “You were supposed to listen to me. You were supposed to stay out of sight, keep your damn head down, and what do you do instead? You go and spread your legs for a Cameron for fuck’s sake? Do you know what kind of shit you’ve stirred up for me?” He was coming closer again, and your instincts screamed. You turned, bolting for the front door with shaking legs—

But you didn’t make it.

His hand caught your hair in a fist, yanking it so hard you screamed in agony. You crashed to the floor with a thud, the pain blinding. Your shoulder hit first, then your elbow, your knee scraping across the hardwood as your body collapsed beneath his grip.

And then the real hit landed. A kick to your ribs, sharp and vicious, knocking the air from your lungs. You screamed again, your voice cracking with begging him to stop, high-pitched and desperate, your hands flailing to shield your face. But he was above you, yelling, still yelling, the words incoherent now, lost in the chaos of his rage.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like your head was underwater. Maybe it was your last day. Maybe it would be easier. You hoped for it. At that moment, when you lay on the floor, all you could do was think about how it all could be different. If you went with Rafe. If you asked him for help. If he could stop it all. 

Rafe knew it was you. Blinded by the rage and an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness, he didn’t even remember running up the stairs to your house. He didn’t remember banging his shoulder against the old and creaky door until it snapped open inside, hitting against the wall with a loud banging. 

The only thing he thought would forever be engraved in his head was the picture of you on the floor with your hands covering your face and a man above you holding your hair in a fist, screaming so loudly that he didn’t even sense Rafe’s presence in the room. 

He was there in a second, moving across the room like a storm, dragging the man off of you and pushing him back. Your father stumbled backwards, clocking off the glass coffee table on the floor, now fully focused on Rafe as if thinking he could handle him. 

But Rafe was quicker. His fist connected with a man’s face with a loud crack, the blood instantly streaming down, staining the light shirt.

“You think you can fucking touch her? Use her like a punchbag?” Rafe roared, hitting again and again, while your father tried to push him away, only barely making him stumble backwards. “I should’ve come after you that same day you dragged her away with you, the same day I knew you were a fucking coward for hurting someone who can’t fight you back.” 

“You don't know shit about me.” Your father choked on a grunt when Rafe lifted him by the collar of his shirt, damn nearly pulling him off the ground. 

“Don’t I?” Rafe growled, his voice low, like thunder booming in the small room. “Because I dug, asshole. I found the files. You thought you could come to this island and pretend to be someone else? Think nobody would find you here with all of the money you owe?”

Your father froze, really froze this time. A flicker of panic rippled through his face, just beneath the blood and bruises. He didn’t say anything, but that silence said everything. Rafe pushed him back again like a bag of trash, and your father grumbled something under his breath. 

Yeah, he was way too full of himself. He had never hesitated to hit you because he trained you to keep your head down and take whatever was coming your way. But he was not stupid enough to try to fight Rafe, who was bigger and much stronger than him. Your father might’ve been cruel, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew power when he saw it. And Rafe Cameron, standing there with blood on his knuckles and murder in his eyes, seemed like he could destroy everything with his bare hands.

So he, clenching his jaw and burning holes into the back of Rafe’s head, sat still. 

And Rafe didn’t waste another second to finally get to you.

It might as well have been his horror dream, because you were still lying on the floor on your side, eyes open and clearly conscious, but body so limp it looked damn near lifeless. Your eyes were focused nowhere in particular, breath ragged, tears still silently rolling down the side of your face. 

Rafe was not breathing when he kneeled in front of you—he was sure of it. His whole world shrank down to the fragile shape of you lying on that worn-out floor like something broken and discarded. His chest constricted so tightly it hurt watching the way your fingers twitched like you were trying to reach for something, someone, him, but couldn’t quite make it.

His hands were hovering above your body like he was afraid to touch you and make it worse. He had seen a lot of shit in his life. Drugs. Fights. Even Ward’s fists. But nothing had ever made his stomach turn like seeing you like that.

“Hey—hey, baby, it’s me.” His voice cracked right down the middle. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Hard reached out hesitantly. He brushed the strands of your hair away from your face, making you slightly flinch from the contact and then finally focus your eyes on him. His eyes studied your face. Wetness from your tears, a clear handprint on your cheeks that was forming into a bruise, blood on your lips—the one that he kissed not even ten minutes ago.

You blinked once, twice, slow and dazed, as if you weren’t sure if he was real or some fevered hallucination pulled from the darkest corner of your pain-soaked mind.

His hands found you gently, cradling the back of your head, his thumb brushing the tear trail down your cheek, and the moment his skin touched yours, you started trembling like a leaf.

“That’s okay. You’re safe. I swear.” His hand reached for your forgotten phone, hurriedly putting it in his pocket, before he gently slid his hands under your body and scooped you into his embrace. He stood from the floor, your head lulled against his chest, and he held you closer, hoping that his hoodie could somehow warm you up. “I’m taking you home.” 

Behind him, your father shifted just enough for Rafe to shoot him a look so sharp it instantly shut him up.

“Don’t.” He snapped. “Don’t even fucking breathe. You’re going to take all of your shit from this house and vanish, do you hear me? I don’t care how or where, but if I ever hear about you, I swear to God I’ll let them know your location, and they’ll do whatever they want with your pathetic ass.”

And your father, for once in his damn life, listened.

Warmth was the first thing you registered when your eyes opened. The room was quiet, dark, and unfamiliar, yet so safe, and as if on instinct, your body knew that there was no harm. This time you didn’t wake up because of a harsh voice calling your name or a loud bang against the door that made you jump up in horror—it was quiet. You were wearing a hoodie, a giant and heavy blue blanket pulled almost all the way up to your face, almost fully drowning you. 

The pain wasn’t gone. Your ribs still ached, your lip still stung, but it was softer now. You managed to move slightly, instantly spotting Rafe at the other side of the bed, keeping his distance. Elbows on his knees, knuckles torn, a fresh cut scabbing over his cheekbone. His head was bowed, eyes locked on the floor, leg bounced restlessly. One hand kept dragging across the same spot on his thigh, like he needed to do something, anything, to hold himself together.

You swallowed. Your throat was raw. “Where am I?”

His head snapped up at the sudden sound of your voice. “Tanneyhill.” He said gently. “Safe. It’s just us. You passed out for a while.”

You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking again until you tried to sit up. The hoodie pooled around your waist as you moved, and Rafe immediately reached out but stopped himself, his hand hovering barely an inch from your wrist.

“Can I…?”

You nodded, and he moved towards you, helped you adjust the pillow, tucking a blanket up your side. Your eyes watered so unexpectedly, a sob coming out before you could even force yourself to hold it back. The tears came quickly, being an aftershock of everything that had happened to you. “I’m sorry—” You gasped between cries, your voice hoarse and fragile. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I—why I can’t stop—”

“Stop apologizing.” Rafe whispered, moving closer, facing you now, and placing his hands on your legs through the blanket to give you some kind of comfort. “That’s okay, baby.”

You sniffled, voice barely above a whisper. “He trapped me, Rafe. I didn’t… I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t even have money to leave. He controlled everything—what I did, where I went, and who I talked to. I thought if I just followed the rules, if I just kept my head down, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He leaned forward like his body couldn’t take the distance, wanting to pull you into his embrace, to keep you safe, and to try to scare all of the things that were terrorizing your poor mind away.

You looked at him, chest heaving. “I wanted to ask for help so many times, but he always made it feel like I couldn’t. Like he’d always find a way back. That even if I left, he’d show up and just kill me. And—and I don’t even understand why he tried to tie me down to him, because he didn’t love me, he didn’t want me—”

“Because he needed control, because weak men like him do that to make themselves feel better. It wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me?” His head dipped down, searching your eyes, waiting until you gave him a nod. Your hands trembled when you initiated the first contact, when you placed a palm over his hand on your knee. Rafe didn’t waste a second to take both of your hands in his warm ones, rubbing your knuckles with more softness than you could’ve ever expected.

“I have nothing. I don’t know what to do or where to go because—because I’m alone.” It came out as a whimper, your stomach tightening at your own words. “I don’t know what to do with my life.” You couldn’t resist the way your head fell forward towards his chest like it was natural. Rafe’s hand cradled the back of your head, fingers gently grazing your scalp as if in memory of the way you were held. 

“You don’t have to know now. Just stay here. Eat, sleep, rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“But—”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just want you to get better. I need to make sure that you’re okay.” You pulled back after a second, blinking at him through tears, and in that moment it wasn’t the Rafe you had met many months ago. It was Rafe who picked you up because he was worried about your safety, who rumbled endlessly about things he liked while you were in his car, who couldn’t stop looking at you with soft eyes whenever he thought you didn’t notice. 

So you leaned forward, just enough to press your forehead against his, trembling all over, letting your tears fall. You didn’t kiss him. You didn’t say anything because there was no need for it. Just let him hold you like you were something he couldn’t lose. 

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

tags: @buzzingbey @maybankslover @rafeismyking @sendme829

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 ☆ 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Aliens!Poly!Lads!Men x MarsBornHuman!Reader

Summary: Your husband requires your "personal assistance"... unlucky for you, Sylus and Xavier want a taste of you also.

Word count: 3.09k

Genre: Alien au. Smut.

Warnings: Multiple tentacles! Jerking off. Fingering in a sense? Multi-coloured cocks (yes... thats a warning). Oral (m rec). Swearing. Mention of mating bonds and claims. A bandaged wound. Photography and videoing. Unprotected sex. Breeding. Egg laying. Multiple orgasms. Dirty talk. Pet names. Rough sex. Lowkey free use. Xavier is possessive as fuck. Illegal stuff. Running from the law. Guns and sirens. Gotta love a good heist.

Notes: Idk what came over me. But just the idea of the Lads boys all being some form of alien got my blood pumping. Enjoy

Masterlist | Navigation

You took a deep breath as you adjusted the bust hem of your long black dress. The ballroom was a swirl of glittering gowns and tuxedos, and the air buzzed with mingling laughter and gossip amongst the galactic elite. At your side was Caleb, your captain. He scanned the room, his eyes ever vigilant, ready to seize the opportunity to steal the rare artifact crafted by the fabled artisans of the Gilded Realm. This was your crew's mission—a heartbeat away from the legendary artifact that could bend time and realities itself.

Yet something gnawed at your gut, a feeling of unease that coiled like a serpent, distracting you from focusing. And just as you were about to voice your concerns to Caleb, your holocom vibrated against your thigh. You glanced down at where the sleek tablet rested, noticing Sylus’ user icon. Without causing too much attention, you uncliped the small rectangular size screen. But you felt your heart drop upon reading the message. It was a text, saying: “Kitten, our sweet doctor isn’t well. Meet us in the far bathroom. Hurry.”

“Captain, I—”

“Go,” Caleb replied, his voice steady, sensing the urgency in your demeanour. “We’ll hold off until you get back. Just be quick, okay pipsqueak.” The loving pet name rolled off his lips like butter, giving you some peace in your anxiousness.

You didn’t need to be told twice as you wove through the throng of elegantly dressed patrons, each step a mix of concern and adrenaline. You quickly reached the far end of the lavishly decorated hall away from most of the party guests. You opened the door to the women's restroom, and the moment you crossed the threshold, your heart ached at the sight before you. You found Doctor Zayne, your darling husband, in a state of distress. His tentacles, usually restrained and hidden, were now wrapping around his body uncontrollably, and his eyes held a frantic darkening look. "I'm sorry, my love," He panted, leaning against the sink, sweat glistening on his brow, his vibrant tentacles tightening with every second that passed. He looked up at you, a weak smile breaking through his evident discomfort. “I—,” he whimpered, his voice strained.

You rushed to his side, your hands reaching for his arms, noticing that his skin was hot to the touch. “What’s wrong?”

"I've gone into my rut early..." His voice held a note of embarrassment, but you could sense the urgency in his words. Usually, when Zayne’s species goes into their mating cycles they are isolated, and it's prepared meticulously. But since everyone is a different type of alien on the crew, it doesn't surprise you that cycles change and fluctuate to when they are supposed to happen.

Sylus, standing beside Zayne, added, "I've been trying to calm him down, but nothing seems to be working. I think we need to help him now before it becomes even more difficult to control. Just until we can get him back to the ship." You nodded at your lover, understanding the situation all too well. You knew that when Zayne goes into heat, his body has the tendency to take over, and his needs become all-consuming. So this was just to calm his body so it could give his mind some room to breathe.

So without wasting another moment, knowing Caleb told you to be quick, you pulled Zayne closer to you. Your bodies flush against one another as he held you against the cold, hard sink. You felt his icy tentacles slither down towards your legs, snaking themselves around your thighs before tightening around you. A mixture of desire and desperation surged through both of you and in one with swift motion, he spun you around, lifting your dress so the fabric could pile around your waist, revealing your already wet panties, a testament to your own growing arousal.

Zayne could no longer hold back. With a sharp snap, he tore your panties in half, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Letting the ruined material fall to the dirty floor, he used one of his lubricated tentacles to slide between your legs, spreading your limbs apart so he could stand behind you snugly. Zayne was already becoming quickly lost in the pleasure, needing to feel you wrap around him. “Zay be quick p-please…”

Your pants caused Zayne to growl animalistically. He hated people telling him to hurry up, but deep down, he knew why you said it, knowing Caleb’s temper all too well. So using his tentacles, two held your glistening folds open while he started to drill one into your pussy, stretching you out to accommodate his size in a moment.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp gasp, a mixture of pleasure and surprise, moving your hips in time with the tendrils thrusts. Sylus stood by, his eyes fixed on the filthy scene before him. He couldn't help but reach down to palm himself through his pants, already feeling the stirrings of his own needs grow. He watched as Zayne’s tentacle worked their magic, pumping into you with a desperate speed, preparing you nicely.

You felt yourself getting carried away by the pleasure, almost forgetting where you were and why you were there. Zayne’s tentacle knew exactly how to stimulate you, knowing your body better than yourself, curling and twisting in just the right spots. You tried desperately to remain quiet, but as Zayne’s motions became more frantic, your breath quickened and soft moans escaped your lips as you felt yourself creep closer to the edge. “Baby pleaseee.”

“I know... Just let me enjoy this. Fuck..” He grunted through gritted teeth, his glasses fogging from his hot breath. What he would give to take his time with you, slowly pumping you full, eating you, loving on you for hours. But alas time was literally of the essence. So with a hazy mind, you reached out to comfort Sylus... to give him some relief as well. Your fingers fiddled at his belt, and the red alien couldn't help but chuckle at your desperateness. He flipped the belt off in seconds giving enough room for his long cock to slip out of its confinements. The patterning and ridges on his cock made you gulp, never being able to get used to the variety of shapes and sizes your lovers gifted you. Your tongue licked a strip up the base until you reached the tip, letting his cock slip into your waiting mouth.

“Fuck that's it, Kitty…” Sylus groaned, his hand gently holding the back of your head. You felt tears welt in the corners of your eyes, most likely ruining your makeup. Zayne doesn't stop his tentacles having added two more inside you as he picks up speed in his thrusts matching the snap in Sylus’ hips.

You were almost completely lost in the burn of desire until you could hear your holocom start to ring against your exposed thigh as it sat snug in its holster. You went to reach for it, worried it might be the captain telling you that time was up. But Sylus grabbed it before you could, reading the user icon to see it was none other than Xavier. Sylus couldn't help but chuckle at seeing his friend's name given to you, Xavier had only recently completed your mating bond when you all travelled to his home planet. His claim on your hip was most likely still red and sore beneath the bandage you put on it earlier this morning.

The poor bunny was wondering where you were. His sense of possessiveness was still strong, and he wanted to know your whereabouts every hour, every minute, every second or every day. And now, finding you were missing from your post next to your captain, he would have begun to worry. Sylus, thinking quickly, opened your holocom and started recording a video. The sight of Zayne’s tentacles buried deep inside your dripping cunt, the sounds of your moans muffled against his cock, with the image of you sucking him off for dear life was all too enticing to resist not sharing. And with a few quick taps and the quick text saying “busy”, Sylus sent the video to Xavier, knowing it would drive him wild.

Throwing the device onto the sink lazily, you all briefly noticed the vibrations of the com against the sink, announcing Xavier’s incoming call, but Sylus hit ignore before going back to focusing on the task at hand, fucking your pretty little mouth. Zayne had reached his limit quickly and with a final, powerful thrust he pulled his tentacles out of you before quickly replacing them with his hard bluish-hued cock. He drilled into you with passion, his high-pitched whimpers echoing around the dim restroom. He didn’t take long to start feeling the brew of heat in his gut, indicating his eggs were ready. Just a few more thrusts. He wanted to, needed to, last a bit longer. He was screaming at himself internally for wanting to empty his load so quickly but he couldn’t take it any longer. “Fuck, Honey. I need to come. You’re gonna be a good girl and take my eggs huh. Hold them and make them warm for me.”

Zayne’s ramble caused your cunt to clench tightly around him, sucking his cock in deeper. Your mouth flew off Sylus with a guttural cough. “Zayne!! Arghh. Please. I’ll be good. Give them to me.” He came deep inside you quickly after your sweet words, his slicked-up eggs pumping into you in relentless waves. As he emptied himself, one of his tentacles reached around to rub your clit, sending you into your own orgasm, your juices squirting around his cock before splattering all over the dirty bathroom floor.

Zayne pulled out of you slowly, his tentacle still gently caressing your sensitive flesh. But Sylus wasted no time in claiming what was his, spinning you around and pushing you up onto the counter. You had no time to process nor even try to stop him. You were here to help Zayne, to calm him down, not give Sylus a fucking quickie. But your legs instinctively wrapped around his thick waist nonetheless as he lined up his large alien cock at your entrance, ready to take his turn with you.

Sylus’ eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack as he plunged into your wet ruined pussy, your walls clenching around him, still sensitive from your high with Zayne. He fucked you with a vigorous pace, his abdomen tightening as the counter creaked under your combined weight. Sylus’ hand covered your mouth to muffle your cries as you began to scream out his name on repeat, his other hand gripping your hip too tightly to maintain his frantic drilling. He wasn't aiming for a slow climb to his release but instead the quickest route he could possibly take. Zayne, in his own temporary satisfaction, kissed your shoulder tenderly, lazily, his hazy mind still dancing among the clouds. His tentacle joined Sylus’ hand in bringing you to yet another orgasm, rubbing your little nub in quick short circles. Sylus groaned as he felt your pussy clamp down on his cock, and with a few more thrusts, he spilled his gooey seed into you, his own release mixing with Zayne’s warm eggs.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open just as Sylus was pulling out of your thoroughly fucked hole, and in walked none other than Xavier—right on queue—his face flushed and his cock tenting the front of his tailored pants. The sight before him, the sounds, and the smell of sex filling the room drove him into a frenzy. Xavier needed no invitation. He pulled you towards him roughly, bending you over the sink with an audible thud before lifting your dress out of his way as the fabric tried to fall. Without preamble, he entered you in one go, his slightly glowing cock sliding easily into your well-prepared hole. You felt full, completely stuffed with his huge cock, given his species was abnormally well-hung compared to most and your body buzzed with arousal at the forbidden nature of this whole situation. You were definitely going to get an ear full from Caleb when you finally got back to the mission at hand. Xavier fucked you with wild strength, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass quickly filled the room. The mix of Sylus and Zayne’s seed started to leak out of your pussy with each thrust only serving to heighten Xavier’s desire to come deep inside you. He was like an animal in heat, even worse than Zayne, driven by his need to claim what was his. His mate. His his his.

You could do nothing but hold onto the sink as Xavier jackhammered into you. Your own needs had been met multiple times over, but the relentless fucking continued, pushing you closer to the edge once more. You drooled onto the counter as your crackled moans played like music to all three mens’ ears. Xavier’s grunts filled the room also, as he approached his high, his hands gripping your hips tightly, leaving marks on your soft skin with his sharp nails.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna breed this tight hole, push all Zayne’s eggs out. Make room for mine. Hmm.” Xavier chuckles making Zayne suddenly chime in his growl deep and primal.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.” The red in Zayne’s eyes was evident that he was ready to fight Xavier but the other alien seemed to be more calm about the matter, staggering his hips slightly as he smirked devilishly.

“Try me.” With a final, powerful thrust, Xavier unloaded his cum deep into your cunt, his seed joining the mixture of his fellow alien crewmates. Your body trembled as you felt yet another high building rapidly, threatening to overwhelm your whole body. And as Xavier pulled out, his cum leaked out of you like a waterfall, mingling with the others, a sticky mess on the bathroom floor. But Xavier was quick to plug your hole back up with his fingers.

You slumped completely against the sink, your body spent, and thoroughly used. You looked at the three men surrounding you. You went to speak, but just as you opened your mouth, the air grew heavy with sirens blaring throughout the lavish ballroom under the door before entering the bathroom. The stomach-churning sound jolted you all. Then, as if on queue, suddenly, the door slammed open, and Caleb burst into the restroom, his face pale with frustration, concern, and a little turned on.

“Raf got the Artifact!...the fucking idiot” he shouted but mumble the last part. “We need to leave now!” Without a second thought, Zayne hoisted you up into his arms adjusting your dress so you were covered. His strength returned as if sudden adrenaline coursed through his veins. You just clung to his broad shoulders, laughter bubbling between all four of you as they dashed out of the bathroom, hearts racing along with their feet.

The moment you all emerged, chaos erupted in the lavish ballroom. Guards with laser guns were already fanning out, searching with narrowed eyes, but you and your crew were ready. Darting past tables, ducking under chandeliers of illuminated crystals that might have cut the air above them. With Caleb leading the way, all the men twisted and turned through the maze-like corridors of the royal estate, Zayne still tightly holding onto you, their crazed laughter mingling with frantic footsteps booming behind them. “That’s it! This way!” Caleb yelled, pointing towards an emergency exit where the ship docks lie.

As they neared the ship dock, they could hear the relentless footsteps of guards and more sirens blaring in the distance. “Hurry!” Rafayel voice echoed through the comm, urging his crew onward. With a final burst of speed, Zayne propelled himself and you through the narrow closing door leading to your vessel, the starlight. The sleek design of their ship loomed before you—a sanctuary waiting to be boarded.

“After me!” Caleb shouted as he helped Xavier aboard, hand in hand. Rafayel was already at the controls, having set the cloaking device to prepare for your escape, the Artifact having been hooked up beautifully─again Rafs handy work.

You felt your heart race, the thrill of the heist and the quick-not-so-quick fuck session igniting your senses. As you finally all piled into the ship, you caught a glimpse of the guards emerging quickly from the exit but Caleb was quicker. “Initiating launch now!” Caleb’s hands flew over the controls as he pressed the buttons with urgency.

Just as the guards reached them, the mighty engines of the starlight roared to life. And with a final surge, the ship lifted off the dock, and you looked back one last time, meeting the glances of hostile eyes as they faded into the stars. “Fuuuckk! We did it!” Rafayel cheered, slapping Zayne on the back as they flew into the depths of the galaxy, laughing at their narrow escape.

You finally let out the breath you were holding, your nose nuzzling into his scent gland on his neck, calming him and yourself. You beamed at him, who grinned back despite the weariness in his eyes. “Next time, can we skip the chaos?” You teased.

“I make no promises, my love,” he replied with a wink walking you towards his chamber where he could finally get you all to himself for the rest of the night.

—

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[tchiyya]

So this is a thing I've run into a lot, where I am the person trying to help. This middle paragraph is really, really important to keep in mind:

some people might offer to help them but it's rare they ever know where to start, let alone exhibit compassion without grimace.

For a lot of people who are empathetic, seeing someone in this can tug at you to Do Something, but it is hard and you are gonna get bit a lot. If this is someone you are only casually acquainted with, the best thing you can do is be consistently kind but not dive in trying to be a hero to Fix or Save them. If you don't love this person a whole lot, you're gonna hit a wall pretty quickly and it will genuinely make things worse for both of you.

admittedly, even for genuinely compassionate people, it isn't the easiest thing. if the person is someone who is stuck in their ways or doesn't know you, they don't really have a reason to be receptive to your help. "why should I waste my time on someone who is just going to become another memory of heartache? someone who will carelessly hurt and abandon me?"

Again, save the real intense energy for people that you love. If this is a close family member or a partner or a longtime friend who you've drifted from but who still means a lot to you kinda love. Because this is the mentality, and it is going to take time and energy and patience and a willingness to get hurt and to forgive easily. And, perhaps most importantly: boundaries. You need to be steady enough on your own feet and in who you are and what you need that you can set appropriate boundaries with the person before it's too late.

and such. an earnest attempt to help can feel like an attempted assault to them. at the same time, the meaningful interpersonal relationships that these people need will not survive if built on pity or fleeting self-gratifying feelings of "building" someone into your idea of a desirable person.

That last sentence here is key. You cannot approach helping someone in this with any personal ulterior motivation. You need to want to help them find what they believe is a desirable person to be, and be present, consistently kind, and help give them the tools to build themselves into that person. You don't get to dictate the terms. Nor can you do it for them.

It's gonna take a long time, and you need to set boundaries to make sure you're keeping yourself healthy and steady in the meantime. Understand that they will clutch at that line sometimes like the last thread of their sanity, only to throw it in your face, probably several times. You have to be okay with this. You have to understand that this is them testing to see if you'll pick that line back up and patiently offer it to them again. You also have to be willing to set consistent boundaries for their sake, because they will be testing them like guardrails too. The boundaries help both of you, but only if you are consistent in enforcing them kindly and respectfully, but not terminating the relationship.

You're probably gonna need to go scream into the woods a lot to decompress. Do that.

You're also gonna need a good therapist. Don't attempt this without one. (Rookie mistake.)

And if all of the above sounds terrible and unrewarding? Good. That's a sign that you should not try to be a hero about this. Just be consistently kind to these folks, and let them find their way to you in time. Don't slam the door; they may very well come around eventually.

Source: I've been in a gaslighting abusive relationship before, and I was impossible to reach. The people who were consistently kind and nonjudgemental, but who let me come to them were the ones I'm still friends with. Additionally, I've frequently been on the other side of this in my personal life, and to this day work professionally with abuse victims, people who have been through some real horrific stuff, as well. It takes a lot as a professional, and it takes a lot as a friend.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. It's rare that it matches whatever ideal for them you've cooked up in your head. You gotta let that go asap. But they can find their light, if you meet them where they're at, consistently offer small breadcrumbs of genuine kindness, and let them set the pace.

And for the people who are in this? I'm sorry. Genuinely. That said, if you want out of this, don't look for your knight in shining armor first. Look for the witch at the edge of the woods who puts food out for the strays every day. Hang around her village long enough to build up good relationships with her and her cats over time. Eventually you will be drawn into the village and will find your traveling party, and perhaps even, in time, your prince.

I've seen what happens when people Get Worse. I've orbited a lot of people who Got Worse (especially online). If you listen to people who Got Worse it's all the same: they don't have consistent, meaningful social support, they've been hurt too many times and they can't open up out of fear that the next betrayal is going to drive the knife right through the artery, they end up spending too much time alone and develop secret languages, meanings, thought cycles completely inscrutable to anyone who has never had to rely on such rituals to survive, they get caught in a cycle of reopening and licking their wounds because the progression of time is so unrewarding and stagnant that the past is basically always the present, and the present is already the future, they become mean, they become strange.

some people might offer to help them but it's rare they ever know where to start, let alone exhibit compassion without grimace. admittedly, even for genuinely compassionate people, it isn't the easiest thing. if the person is someone who is stuck in their ways or doesn't know you, they don't really have a reason to be receptive to your help. "why should I waste my time on someone who is just going to become another memory of heartache? someone who will carelessly hurt and abandon me?" and such. an earnest attempt to help can feel like an attempted assault to them. at the same time, the meaningful interpersonal relationships that these people need will not survive if built on pity or fleeting self-gratifying feelings of "building" someone into your idea of a desirable person.

I don't know where I was going with this, but I always found it hard not to see myself as only a few degrees removed from these people. one or two safety nets separated from being completely trapped. unable to feel safe in not just the world but also my own body. a cosmological dead end. I stay away from habitually engaging in the obvious things can that make trying to change when you're at this point difficult (alcohol, drugs, etc), but if temperance is how you maintain stability in the face of rock bottom, you're basically already there, right? you're there and your body just hasn't caught up. maybe I'm just being dramatic because it's late. hows everypony finding the new deltarune chapters.

[rosiesweets]

and i'd give myself to you (every time) - prologue

pazzi bachelorette au - bachelorette!azzi x wnba!paige

a/n: hi! this is my very first blog post and my first creative writing in a long time. i've been quietly reading through the wonderful pazzi fics on here and finally found the courage to post what i've been cooking in my little brain. reminder that paige and azzi are real people with real lives. this is a work of fiction not at all representative of who they are as people. i don't have this fic fully planned out yet, really this is for me as i journey through writing for fun and celebrating sapphic love. please share with me (gently) your thoughts. i'll probably come back to reedit this again at some point. i think this is going to be lots of fun!

fiji - last summer

azzi knew as she sat in the limo on the last day of filming that she was going to get dumped that day. the feeling of the impending rejection sat heavy her chest, like a breath held a moment too long.

james wasn’t going to pick her. wasn’t going fall to one knee, open the small velvet box with a ring he picked just for her and ask her to spend forever with him.

no, that scene was for darcy. the sweetest southern belle you’ve ever met. perfect blonde curls, sweetest blue eyes, with cheeks permanently baby pink at the apple. and really, azzi was happy for her, happy for james - happy for them. she knew she wasn’t right for james, that he wasn’t right for her. but the feeling still stung. still brought wetness to her eyes and hiccups in her throat. because while azzi knew she didn’t want a life with james, part of her wanted the feeling she knew darcy would get later. not the just the euphoria of finding her soulmate, but the relief. the knowledge that it was all over. that was it worth it. the reward for putting herself out there, living with twenty instagram models that reminded her she should probably eat less and workout more, and cracking herself open to james on live television, showing him (and america) who she was.

but in the end - she fell flat. she made it so close, just to end up like the girls on the first night - alone again. back to her life, now just with millions of americans watching her journey of being good, just not good enough. of always being an almost. she wanted to tell the car to just turn around. to not put her through this public humiliation ritual she didn’t know she was signing up for six months ago.

ultimately though, she was still azzi. a girl pouring out with grace and love without even really trying. so she got out of the limo, held james’ hands, looked him in the eyes and made it through her ever gracious courteous loser speech. she told him she knew it wasn’t her, she wished him and darcy nothing but the best, and that she would look back on their time together with nothing but affection. then she turned around on her kitten heel and made it back to limo just to time to not sob in front of him.

she felt the camera zoom in as she gasped through each cry. god this was embarrassing. maybe she could convince her job to let her work out of her parent’s basement in maryland for the next few months between the bachelor and love island. where people would forget who she was in lieu of whatever was going on in casa amore. really it was just copy editing, why does she need to be in person for that? maybe she can convince her best friend jana to hole with up her to so she’ll have someone to talk to. she’ll get a pet fish. she’ll delete her socials. maybe find yoga in the way white women who end up thirty and unmarried in midwestern cities do. all full of spiritual healing and cultural appropriation. yeah that sounded like a plan.

bachelorette mansion, la, present day

so turns out while azzi thought she was going through the most humiliating eleven week act a woman could be put through in modern day, america was falling in love with her. caroline, her favorite producer, told her as much one day in a dc coffee shop. that america was obsessed and in love with her. not just with her doe eyes and deep dimples. but her softness. her laugh. the way she threw herself unabashedly into the obstacle course challenge, getting mud caked into her curls and on her clothes. how she cradled sara while she cried about missing home. how she opened up to james about being bisexual. how clearly she led with her heart. that america wanted, no demanded, she be the next bachelorette. (azzi is also incredibly beautiful, that is actually probably the majority of why abc wanted her as he next bachelorette, but obviously caroline can’t just say that).

so here she is, standing in a stunning lavendar gown, about to meet fifteen men and fifteen women who will lie to her face and tell her they’re here for the right reasons. when everyone knows full well they signed up before they even knew azzi was going to be the bachlorette.

but the thing about azzi is that through it all, through everything she’s been through, she’s still a romantic at heart. she knows most of these people are here to grow their instagram following and maybe get a chance to kiss a pretty girl. but maybe, just maybe, she’ll meet someone that makes her heart sing and her brain quiet. that one of these thirty people will hold her hand at the end of this and she’ll just know. she’ll know the way she knew tim was her dad. the way jana would be her maid of honor. the way jon and jose were her bothers. azzi knows love. knows the way it sits in her bones and on her skin for the people she’s already found.

so she plasters on her hollywood smile, tucks a curl behind her ear, and lets the hope in her heart grow.

[theemporium]

hiii i've only recently followed you but i'm in love with how you write all the marauders you're so talented!! idk if you're still writing for james potter but if you are i was wondering if you could do something about the reader maybe getting new tattoos and piercings and maybe what he'd think?? :) <3

thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Show me!” 

“James—” 

“I have been waiting all day, love. It’s been torture.”

You didn’t even bother to hide your eye roll, still trying to unwind your scarf around your neck as your boyfriend came rushing towards the front door. The appointment had been booked for weeks, written on the wall calendar in the kitchen for just as long so you wouldn’t forget. But for some reason, the excitement only seemed to hit James the other night when he noticed ‘tattoo appointment @ 10’ under the date. 

A lot of that excitement probably stemmed from the fact you refused to tell your boyfriend what you were getting. Partially because you wanted it to be a surprise. Mostly because you were still undecided despite having the appointment scheduled for weeks.

“My poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, patting his cheek and watching in amusement as his grin instantly widened. You barely got the chance to pull your jacket off before James was behind you, helping you and hanging your jacket up by the time you turned around to face him again. 

“I’m simply lost without you,” James said sincerely, leaning in for a quick peck on the lips before his excitement returned tenfold. “Now, show me!” 

“This is hardly the first tattoo I have ever gotten,” you countered as you began making your way into the apartment. “Or the first one you have ever seen. Sirius literally took you with him the other week.” 

“Yes, because seeing Sirius get a smiley face on his ass cheek after a bet was the highlight of my life,” James deadpanned, but there was a small smile on his face that told you more than enough. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching Sirius get the tattoo on a bet that he won.

“Sit down,” you grumbled, giving him a playful shove until he settled down on the couch. You barely had a chance to step forward before the boy was wrapping his arms around your thighs and dragging you between his legs.

He rested his chin on your stomach, grinning up at you. “Gonna put on a show f’me? Should I play some music?” 

“Get your head out of the gutter, Potter,” you retorted, snorting a little when he playfully pouted in response. But you ignored his little wolf whistle as you pulled your cardigan off, ignored the look of glee on his face as you began to pull your top up too.

“Merlin,” James muttered, his mouth agape as he took in the tattoo that now decorated the side of your ribs. “S’pretty, baby. Real pretty.” He paused for a moment, inspecting the tattoo a little closer. “Is that—”

“Honeysuckles,” you finished for him, smiling a little when his eyes widened. “First bouquet of flowers you gave me.”

James didn’t say anything at first, his fingers lightly hovering over the tattoo like he was worried to put any pressure on the fresh tattoo. “Mum used to tell me what they meant,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” 

“She said honeysuckles were devotion,” he continued, his cheeks burning pink as he looked up at you. “And I knew, even back then, that I was devoted to you. That you were the one.” 

“Such a romantic, Potter,” you murmured, utter adoration and fondness coating your words. 

“Always for you, baby. Always.”

.

[harringtonstilinski]

Potion - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 4,490 Warnings: fluff, angst, reader is referred to as henderson before nicknames are thrown, Requested: no | yes; requested by the amazing @fandom-princess-forevermore !! this request has been sitting in my inbox for months, and i've finally gotten around to it! i hope you enjoy it, bby!! Smut: no | yes, 18+ MINORS DNI; oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (pls wrap before you tap), missionary, cowgirl, doggy, sitting up(? i no idea what the name of this position is, lol), shower A/N: Hi, friends! I had a time writing this fic, lol. I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in while; I've been more into reading books than I have fics, or writing fics. Let me know what you thought! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Steve Harrington Playlist

They say that everything happens for a reason, right? Well… that question and thought has been running through your head all day long at the prospect of hearing and seeing the fireworks at the show The Party has invited you to.

Groaning as you flip over in bed, you could feel your anxiety creeping up on you just at the thought alone of being near Lover’s Lake in a few short hours.

Your anxiety increased tenfold as the phone rang, the noise causing you to jump out of your skin. Getting up out of bed, you sauntered over to the phone that was on your dresser, yawning as you picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“You’re coming to pick me up, right?”

“For what?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

“For the fireworks!!”

Pulling the receiver from your ear, you blinked at the loud voice on the other end before putting the earpiece back to your ear. “Yes. I’ll come pick you up. What time is that again?”

“They start at sundown, which is - what, 8:30? So, pick us up at around 6 so that way we can get everything set up.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at six.” You hung up the phone before they could request anything else, like you getting them snacks from the gas station or grocery store.

Jumping out of your skin again, you placed a hand over your heart and made your way to your front door, opening it to peek outside, only to see Steve standing there with a to-go coffee cup in hand.

“Oh, my stars, you’re the best,” you said, opening the door a little more. “Get in here.”

Chuckling, Steve made his way inside, giving your forehead a kiss as he walked by. “Did you just get up or something?” he asked.

“Yeah. The kids called and basically reminded me about picking them up for the firework display tonight,” you replied, closing the door and walking into the kitchen where Steve stood. “It’s giving me anxiety just thinking about going.”

“Why?” 

Looking up at him, you could also see the same anxiety in his eyes that you felt. “Because of the loud noises and the flashes. Steve, we just survived another stint in the Upside Down. I’m having stupid flashbacks again.”

“And what did I tell you about having them?” He walked over to you, rubbing his hands gently up and down your arms. “To call me. No matter the time of day.”

Sighing, you leaned your forehead against his chest. “I know. But with you working, I don’t want to call the video store and get you fired, or have your parents mad because the phone’s ringing in the middle of the night.”

“Hey, don’t worry about Keith or my parents. They don’t matter at that moment. You do.”

Looking up at him, you smiled a little. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the bestest friend a person could have?”

Smiling back at you, Steve replied, “Every day since the third grade.”

“I mean it, Steve.”

“I know.”

The small smile that grazed your lips into a full fledged smile. Steve made you one of the happiest people on the planet, and you made him the happiest person on the planet.

“How about this?” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders. Rubbing your upper arms, he explained, “Why don’t we just drop the kids off at Lover’s Lake, then we’ll go back to Family Video and rent a couple of feel good movies, go back to my house and have a little Fourth of July celebration of our own.”

Sighing, you said, “That sounds wonderful.”

“What sounds wonderful?” your mom asked.

“Having a quiet night with Steve, celebrating the Fourth with a movie and some popcorn,” you explained. What you didn’t explain or want to say was Steve and I are having a night in because the boom of the fireworks will cause me to go into panic because of our experience in the Upside Down, but you didn’t. Your mom didn’t need to know everything.

“Oh, won’t that be nice?” she smiled. “Steve, it’ll be nice to have you around for the night. Your best friend here has been so lonely.”

“Oh, my goodness, mother,” you sighed, walking into the dining room to lean against your hands, which you placed on the table, your head hanging between your shoulders.

Although your mother didn’t know that you could still hear her when she said to Steve, “Talk to her about her nightmares, Steven. She wakes me up screaming at night.”

Crossing his arms, he looked over at you, replying to your mother, “She’s screaming?” Looking back at your mother, he added, “What is she screaming about?”

Sighing, your mother looked at your back while saying, “You, Steven.” Looking back at Steve, she tacked on, “She screams about you.” Placing a hand on his arm, she gave a sad smile, one that says I hate hearing my daughter scream and cry at night, so fix her, please.

As your mother walked away, you picked your head up with closed eyes and sighed. Why did she have to tell him that? you thought to yourself. Feeling Steve walk up behind you, you slowly turned around to face him, bracing your hands on the table behind you.

“You’re screaming about me at night?” he asked.

Nodding, you looked at a random spot on his shirt. “Yes.”

Steve looked around, seeing if he could spot your mom. When he couldn’t, he took a step closer and quietly asked, “Are they about the Upside Down? The Bats?”

Again, you nodded your head.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Steve asked, “So, are the nightmares also the flashbacks, or are those completely separate?” He wasn’t mad, just curious.

“It’s both, Steve. I can’t read the word thunder without going back into my mind. I can’t see the color red and not think about the lightning, or the blood that poured from you and Eddie after the Bats tried to make meals out of you two.”

Without so much as thinking about it, Steve wrapped his arms around your shoulders, your forehead immediately going to the center of his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Scoffing to yourself, you muttered, “I haven’t even asked about you. I’m so selfish.”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, he shook his head, sighing. “I’m not worried about me right now. I’m more worried about you.”

Sighing, you let a tear fall from your lash line, a tear you didn’t even feel building. So quietly, you say, “I love you, Stevie,” before looking up at him. Steve took it as a friendly confession, not one you’re actually meaning.

Your love for Steve grew from friends to love interest when thought he was dead meat when he got dragged into the Upside Down at Watergate. When you found him not dead, you sighed with relief.

Steve, on the other hand, has always loved you as more than a friend. Ever since he found out what it meant to love someone else. Sure, he loved Nancy, but not nearly as much as he loves you. Which is why the only response he gives is a kiss to your forehead, your eyes shutting at the feel of his lips on you.

“Hey, Steve?” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Can we go run our errands now?”

~~~

“This is going to be so much fun!” Dustin exclaimed from the backseat. “The gang all back together again.”

You looked over at Steve, apprehension on your face. “Yeah, about that, Dusty.”

It was quiet for a moment before Dustin whined, “Noooo. You have to go!”

“Dustin, I’m still having those nightmares and flashbacks. I’m not going to scream my head off at a town event and be talked about like I’m like the town freak.”

“Your sister doesn’t need to be tossed in Pennhurst, okay?” Steve said, coming to your defense.

“I mean, I understand it,” Max said. “I wouldn’t want to go there, either.”

“You don’t wanna be there with Mr. Creel?” Lucas asked.

A quick look in the backseat brought a smile to your face, seeing Max give Lucas the bird, but then cuddle up next to him. “You two are so adorable.”

“So, what are you going to do then if you’re not coming to the firework show?” Dustin asked.

“Steve and I went to Family Video earlier and rented some tapes, so we’ll be sitting at one of our houses watching feel good movies and eating some popcorn,” you answered.

It was silent again for a moment before Dustin mumbled, “You two better have clothes on when I come home.”

That statement alone set your cheeks ablaze, and Steve with some ideas before you two chuckled at your brother.

~~~

“Really?” you asked. “Police Academy? Again?”

Chuckling, Steve said, “You watched me pick it up.”

“No, I didn’t. I walked away!”

The two of you ended up going back to Steve’s house. With the plans that Steve has to distract you from any firework sounds, he thought it best to come back to his house to not scar your sweet, sweet mother… and your little brother Dustin.

“You picked up Sixteen Candles again, so why can’t I pick out Police Academy?” he asked.

Tilting your head and forth, you thought about it for a moment. “You have a point there. Steve - 1, me - none.” Leaning back against the cushions after grabbing a handful of popcorn, you placed a few in your mouth, chewing the salty snack.

“Plus,” you added. “Sixteen Candles only has one boob scene. This movie-” You pointed to the screen. “Has a total of three… with sex!”

“What’s wrong with sex?” Steve asked, not thinking.

Shaking your head slowly, you replied, “Not a damn thing.”

With a soft smile to himself, Steve looked at your profile, happy with your answer.

~~~

“And I can’t believe I gave my panties to a geek,” you recited, putting another handful of popcorn into your mouth. “See, this is why I love this movie. It’s got amazing quotes, and it’s funny, too.” Suddenly sitting up, you twisted to look at Steve, asking, “When this is over, can we go back to Family Video and get Weird Science and The Breakfast Club? Ooh! And maybe Back to the Future, too?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile a little at you, moving his hand from the back of the couch where his arm laid to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “We can do whatever you want.”

A soft pop sounded in the air, your body and mind immediately on alert. You could see the same thing on Steve’s face; alert. While Steve’s alertness was more of a protective alert, yours was more of a scared alert. 

The phone ringing had both your heads turning towards the device, Steve deciding to get up and answer it.

“The fireworks just started. You two okay?”

Sighing, Steve closed his eyes and hung his head a little. “Yeah, Hop. We’re okay. For now. Just on high alert.” Hearing whimpers from the living room, Steve’s protectiveness went up tenfold at hearing another soft pop. “Yeah, no, nevermind.”

“Is–”

“Yeah, she’s here. The popping is scaring her. I’ve got a plan to distract us.”

“Well, put that plan into motion, kid. They’re gonna keep popping them off for at least another 10 minutes.”

“Will do. Thanks, Hop.” Hanging up the phone, Steve called your name, your eyes immediately going to his. “Come here.”

You didn’t have to be told twice! Shooting off the couch like a rocket, you made your way into Steve’s arms, wrapping your own around his middle. “You doing okay?” you asked, voice a little muffled from where your face was pressed into his chest.

Rubbing your back, Steve answered, “I’m fine.”

Another pop of a firework had you both tensing.

“Look at me.”

Looking up at Steve, you didn’t have to ask him what was wrong because his lips pressing against yours shocked you more than anything. It didn’t take you long to sink into the kiss, the action going from testing the waters to hungry and needy.

Steve’s hands went from your back to your hips while yours trailed up from his ribs to his cheeks. Without even thinking, Steve bent to place his hands on the backs of your thighs, your body reacting without much thought as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Stopping the kiss very briefly, you breathed, “Steve, take me to bed.”

“Oh, I wholeheartedly planned on it.”

Looking at Steve, you couldn’t help but smile at him, a soft laugh from your lips. “Oh, really?”

“Yup,” he replied, walking you towards the stairs and up to his room, your head resting perfectly in the crook of his neck.

Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress. Looking up at him, you threaded your fingers through his hair. “What did you have planned, Harrington?”

Shaking his head softly, he said, “Just planned to distract you once the fireworks started.”

“And yourself. Don’t forget yourself.”

Steve nodded while smiling, bending his elbows to place his lips on yours, the hungry and needy kisses from moments ago now gone. Soft, sensual, loving kisses are now shared between you two.

Before the two of you knew it, you both were panting messes, Steve slotted between your legs, the both of you without any barriers between you; nothing but skin on skin.

“Steve, are you gonna fuck me now?” you asked, fingers carding through his hair once again. 

Placing kisses on your neck, Steve hummed. “Not yet, baby.” Trailing those kisses down your chest and the valley of your breasts, he looked up at you. “I can still hear them going off. Gotta keep distracting you.”

A giggle escaped you before you said, “Well, you’re doing a mighty fine job.”

He smiled before placing a kiss to your stomach, trailing his tongue over your belly button. You smiled as he did, leaning your head back a little, a satisfied noise sounding from your throat.

When you felt his hands spread your legs even further, your head shot up off the pillow, looking down at Steve as he placed kisses along your inner thighs. Bringing your arms underneath you, you rested against your elbows, every bit of confidence you felt now drifting away. “Steve.”

“Yeah, baby?” he replied, still leaving trails of kisses along your skin.

“Uhm, are you… gonna…?”

“Gonna what?”

After a few beats of silence, he looked up at you, seeing nothing but nervousness dancing in your eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s just that… no one’s ever…–”

“Ate you out?”

You shook your head no, nothing but embarrassment seeping through. “I’ve always given a guy head, but he’s never returned the favor.”

Steve rubbed his thumb along the top of your thigh, trying to sooth you. “You don’t have to return the favor tonight.”

“Wh–” Before you could finish the question, Steve’s tongue on your core shut you up with a slow intake of breath. You could feel him smile as he worked his tongue over you, hands coming to rest on either side of your pussy, spreading you open a little bit more for him. “Steve, wha– fuck!” 

As his tongue worked your clit, Steve smiled to himself as he peeked a look at you, seeing that you moved from resting on your elbows to having laid on your back, hands in your hair.

“Oh, my. That’s–” You cut yourself off from finishing that statement with a chuckle. “Oh, my gosh, keep doing that.”

“You like that?” he asked.

“Fuck yes!”

Steve chuckled, looking down at your most intimate area, his tongue going right back to your core, slowly dragging up. Without warning, he entered two fingers into your wet heat.

“Holy shit, Steve,” you said, picking up your head to look at him, his eyes closed to the pure passion he was feeling. “Steve.” A loud moan escaped you, your hands going to your breasts. “Steve, come here. Ste– fuck.” With your head tilted back, you almost screamed as your first orgasm of the night washed through you without much warning, and once it subsided, you looked back down at Steve, a lazy smile on your lips. “Get the fuck up here and kiss me.”

“Your wish is my command,” he replied, smiling. Hovering over you with your hands coming up to his face, the two of you kissed with such passion, it almost felt like you were having an out of body experience.

A laugh bubbled up out of you, the feeling of Steve’s lips on your teeth almost sending you into overdrive. 

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asked, kissing down your cheek to your neck.

“I-I can f-f-f-feel your cock jabbing me in the th-th-th-thigh,” you laughed. “It’s just a weird feeling.” Looking at the unamused look on his face, it made you laugh even more… then your eyes went wide as another firework shot off, this time a little closer. “Put it inside me now to distract me, Steve, or else I’ll hide in your bathroom with the lights on.”

“I don’t have any condoms near me,” he said. “They’re all in the bathroom.”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill. I trust you.”

The telltale sign of a firework shooting into the sky had your eyes widening even more as you reached between the two of you to grab Steve’s hard length and lining him up with your entrance. Another squeal in the sky had you looking back into Steve’s eyes. “Steve, I think if you push in, I’ll moan loud enough to drown out that firework that’s about po– oh my god!” 

Steve pushed into you, that loud moan you promised drowning out the firework pop that sounded through the sky. “Damn, baby. You made good on your promise.”

“Steve, this is no time for jokes,” you said. “We both have PTSD from that unforgiving place. Now, please, just… fuck me until the night passes.”

Chuckling, Steve replied, “I’m not sure I can go that many rounds.”

“Well, you fucking better, Harrington.”

With determination, Steve thrust in and out of you, both of you moaning loudly to drown out the sound of the fireworks going off, one right after the other. Neither of you heard the phone ringing downstairs.

At some point, you had rolled the both of you over, your body straddling his hips as you rode him; moving your hips back and forth, bouncing almost like your life depended on it. 

“Fuck, babe, that’s hot,” Steve breathed out.

Leaning forward, you braced your hands on his chest, your fingers carding through his chest hair, breaths heavy as moisture started to build on your forehead and back. “Steve, we have to switch. My legs are getting tired.”

Without missing a beat, Steve leaned forward and wrapped his arm around your back, lips on yours for a moment before he knelt on his bed, gently turning your body to hopefully get you to pick up what he was putting down.

Thankfully, you did. You removed yourself from his grip, turning around and getting on your hands and knees, where Steve grabbed your hips and thrust into again, both of your moans sounding out throughout the room.

His thrusts this time were unrelenting, his orgasm creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

“Neither am I,” you breathed. “Keep going.”

With every thrust, you could feel his balls slapping at your clit, the feeling stimulating you in ways your fingers never could. It doesn’t feel as good as Steve’s tongue on your clit, but nevertheless, the feeling was amazing. “Oh, my god, Steve. That feels amazing. Don’t stop.”

You could feel Steve holding back from releasing his orgasm as you chased yours. Steve reached forward and placed his hand on your stomach, bringing you to sitting up, your hand immediately going to the nape of his neck, feeling his own perspiration there.

Steve rested his chin on your shoulder the best he could, watching your breasts bounce with every thrust. Without warning, his orgasm washed over him, your own following not long after.

Neither of you moved for a second. Neither of you wanted to. You had a feeling that this would change your relationship forever. Steve, on the other hand, wants this to change your relationship forever. He wants to be with you. 

“Hey, Steve?” you whispered.

“Yeah, Henderson?” 

“I have to pee so bad.”

Chuckling, Steve gently leaned you forward, the both of you hissing at the feel of Steve slowly pulling out. Getting off the bed, you waddled your way over to his bathroom, relieving yourself. When you were done and after you washed your hands, you looked at the glass shower door.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Henderson?”

“Can I shower?”

Steve walked over to the bathroom door, opening it just a little, seeing you looking at his shower through the mirror. “Yeah.” He walked in and shut the door behind him. “As long as I can join.”

You turned to face him, seeing a smirk on his face. Not being able to help yourself, you laughed lightly, nodding your head. “Yeah. Yeah you can join.”

Steve walked over to you, gently cupping your cheeks before bringing his lips down on yours, you immediately kissing him back. He walked you backwards a few steps before stopping. The only reason he took his lips off yours was so he could open the shower door to turn the water on. Looking back down at you, he said, “Now, I don’t like my water the temperature of hell.”

You laughed loudly, the sound like music to Steve’s ears. “That’s okay. Warm water is best for my hair type, so is cold water.” At Steve’s puzzled look, you explained, “Warm water for washing and conditioning and rinsing like normal, cold water for that final rinse before getting out. Dustin hates it, Eddie’s getting used to it, and I secretly love it.”

“Will it work on mine?” he asked.

Chuckling, you said, “Of course it will. Keep using your Faberge shampoo and conditioner with that final cold rinse and your hair will look better than ever.” You smiled, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

Sticking his hand inside the shower, he deemed the temperature to be where he likes it, stepping in before taking your hand and guiding you under the water with him. Without missing a beat, he put his lips back on yours, a searing kiss that had your knees almost buckling. 

Tongues dancing, the sound of the water hitting the tile floor and yours and Steve’s moans sounding between the two of you, Steve was up and ready for round two.

“Thought you said you couldn’t go all night,” you mused. 

“Yeah, well, I can be wrong sometimes,” he said, smiling. He kissed you again after you smiled, both of your bodies and hair soaked from the shower. When you pulled away from him and started kissing down his body, Steve furrowed his brows, wondering what you were doing. 

Steve threw his head back, hands coming up to the top of his head, smoothing his hair back at the feel of your mouth on him. “Goddamn, Henderson. You really know how to put that smart ass mouth to use.”

You almost choked on his cock from letting out a snort before pulling off of him to laugh. “You can’t say shit like that, Steve. I almost died!”

Lifting you off the floor, he wrapped his arms around your middle, your arms resting on his shoulders, a smile on both of your faces. “You’re so dramatic,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

The soft kiss turned into one of hunger and passion. Steve lifted your leg to rest on his hip before swiping the head of his cock between your fold before pushing himself into your sore core, a gasp releasing from you.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“Shhh,” he whispered back. “Just go with it. I’ll be soft, or at least I’ll try to be.”

Nodding, you breathed deep, feeling his soft thrusts. It was almost like the two of you were moving in time, dancing the same steps with the way you were moving in sync with each other. 

Just like before, you both finished together before showering each other off. Before the two of you got out, Steve turned the water on cold for the final rinse for your hair. Steve stepped out first to retrieve towels for the two of you.

Stepping out of the bathroom with the towels wrapped around your bodies, you suddenly remembered that you didn’t have a spare change of clothes, something that Steve also noticed.

Without saying a word, he walked into his closest, grabbing one of his t-shirts and basketball shorts. Looking through his drawers, he grabbed a pair of his boxers for you, handing them to you. 

As he went back into the closet to grab himself some clothes to change into, you went back into the bathroom to change and find a spare toothbrush, which you found under the sink in a storage container.

“Hey, Steve?” you said, voice raised.

“Yeah, Henderson?” he said, standing right next to you.

Jumping, you turned to look at him, hand over your heart. “Oh, my– Shit, I’m sorry. Uhm…–”

“Yes, you can use my toothpaste. I don’t mind. Really.”

Smiling, you whispered your thanks before grabbing the tube off the counter and putting a dollop on your brush after wetting the bristles. You wet the paste before putting it into your mouth, brushing your teeth clean of plaque and food.

Steve did the same, spitting out the foam when necessary. Once done, you both rinsed your mouths out and went back into the bedroom. Sighing, you looked around, not sure of what to do now.

“Uhm…” you said. “We could go finish watching our movies? I’m not supposed to go to bed with wet hair. It’ll flatten my curls.”

“Yeah, of course, whatever you want,” Steve said, smiling. “But before we do, I need to ask you a question.”

“What’s up?”

All of a sudden, he was nervous and embarrassed at the same time, not sure if he could ask the question he wanted to. “How happy do you think Dustin would be if we got together?”

Blinking rapidly, you weren’t expecting the question as you tried to think of an answer. “Uhh… I think he’d be happy. I mean, he fucking adores you. I mean, I adore you, too. You made me come like three times.” You laughed as Steve wrapped you up in his arms, a smile on his face.

“So, is that a yes, Henderson?” he asked.

Cupping his cheeks, you smiled. “Yes, Harrington, that’s a yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i'm so so sorry this took forever to get out. writer's block hit me like a brick! plus, i've been reading books like crazy, and i've gone in and out of depression episodes. thanks for sticking around! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm trying to add the character masterlists and playlists onto all my one-shots from here on out! let me know if it makes it easier for y'all to back and choose!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on July 2, 2025

[meeep-morp]

I like this theory.

I do think that the creepy walk is an act, probably just to spook us, and maybe scare us off from continuing the game (like c'mon-- there's gotta be at least one person who panic quit at the end of chapter 1 or 2). But I also like the idea that it's also meant to be a form of misdirection. Maybe it's both.

I'm actually very willing to accept the intentional act theory, because one of the big things that bothered me about the ending of chapter two, was that yes, it's implied that Kris slashed the tires of Toriel's car to prevent anyone from leaving. But I've been hesitant to believe that because how in the hell did that sliw, shambling lil shit make it all the way around the house, slash the tires, AND make it back inside before Toriel noticed? It seems like the answer is that they didn't, at least not while walking like that.

I can see them doing the creepy walk specifically to throw us off, like I was. "There's no fucking way they could've done that! Have you SEEN this fucker try to walk around without their soul? They can barely keep themself upright, let alone run!"

That being said, I don't think it's entirely an act. Rather, I feel like it might be more of an exaggeration of the pain and weakness they feel without the soul. I mean, yes, they're clearly still being performative in order to seem much more creepy and weak and zombie-like than they actually are, but I also think that this performance is heavily inspired by the truth.

I mean, op, you mention yourself that Noelle points out weaknesses and shakiness in Kris's voice, and if Kris had recently... expelled us, that'd make sense. If my memory's correct, then every time we've seen Kris remove their soul, we watched their whole body shake, and we specifically hear the sounds of damage being taken. Maybe the teeth gnashing in the chapter two bathroom scene was them being a bit extra, but I think it's still clear that the process of removing their soul places a lot of strain on their body. Maybe they're not exactly weak because they're soulless, but because they just removed it a few minutes ago.

Another thing I want to point out is that yes, I don't think we entirely get to figure out what happens when Kris is without us for too long, but I do know that if you wait around when you first spot them making chocolate milk, they'll slowly slump over and eventually seem to pass out after a few minutes. I didn't see anything beyond the "faint", because that was when I was like, "aight, that's enough, it's gone too far, let me back in," but I was straight up jumpscared by how suddenly they "woke up" and quickly leapt at the soul. I've been wondering for a while how the fuck they realized I was there, and I was writing it off as some sort of magic thing where they could simply just psychically sense it, but that still doesn't explain how sudden that switch was.

And so this theory makes me wonder... what if Kris was pretending to faint. What if that "Kris...... Your soul......." line from Mysterious Phone Voice wasn't concern over Kris's health, but rather them saying, "Head's up Kris, your soul's watching." I mean, it's pretty clear that Mysterious Phone Voice has some level of omniscient-type knowledge (probably through hidden cameras and tapped phones and shit), so it's not far fetched that they knew we escaped the closet and were spying in on Chocolate Milk Time (TM).

And if it's true that they warned Kris about us, and if Kris has been acting weaker in order to mislead us, then yeah, of course they would pretend like their body's failing them. Actually-- I'll go even further and say that it wasn't just to make us think they're weak when they're soulless, but rather that that specific moment was the Mysterious Phone Voice and Kris working together in order to draw us out into the open, just so Kris could catch us and put us back in time out. Because nimble as they are, they likely wouldn't be able to grab us from the vent; we'd get away too quick, and Kris simply just can't fit in there like we can. I think even Mysterious Phone Voice saying, "Kris... without soul.... you'd...." might've been a part of an act.

I also think the fainting thing was an act because at first they could barely say awake long enough to make and drink a glass of chocolate milk, but after we get put back in time out, not only are they perfectly able to make another glass, but they're also able to play the piano for eight minutes, and then, after waiting long enough to get all the secret dialogue for the basement power outage scene, they STILL have enough juice left to fucking snipe us with a puck, and beat the shit out of us with a hockey stick?! Yeah no something ain't adding up. Even if we take out the time it took for me to listen to the entirety of the piano playing, and me staying completely still in the basement for like-- 5-10 minutes, and me staying still for 10 minutes after the two left me alone upstairs (I was secret hunting, and I wasn't about to disobey Susie's orders), it still wouldn't make sense.

Final thing of note, when Kris finally got us back in, they kinda stay down for a few seconds, and they shake a couple times. When we're able to control them again, we can only get them a few steps before they collapse for a second. I don't think that was an act. I think they might've been in a weakened state the entire time they're soulless, and I wonder if the longer they spend one way, the more taxing it is to change it (so the longer they spend without us, the more strain their body goes through when putting us back in, and vice versa).

But yeah, those are my thoughts on this. I do think Kris is naturally in a weakened state without their soul, but less shambling zombie weak, and maybe more like pulling an all nighter without coffee, or 3 days into a fast (speaking of which, that's another explanation for Noelle's weak voice comment, and the momentary collapse after Kris gets us back in. We can't eat light world food for Kris, and tbh, I'd also eat an entire pie in one sitting if I hadn't eaten in a few days, and then an eldritch demon thing made me run around everywhere all day, making me even hungrier. Kid could simply just be malnourished with POTS, and they stood up too fast after getting us back in their body, causing them to actually almost pass out for realsies). Mostly functional, but suboptimal.

...I actually like the "Kris's soul is strong enough to sustain their body, but without it, the symptoms of malnutrition hit them hard and fast, and that's the real reason why they seem weaker when soulless" theory. I doubt that's actually cannon, but I might just headcannon it.

Anygay-- this got off track. Thanks for reading my ramblings. Farewell, until we meet again.

The interesting thing is…. from the glimpses of SOUL-less Kris we saw in Chapter 1 + 2, it was notable how…. strangely they seemed to move. We saw them walking with a sort of zombie-like gait that maybe implied they weren’t in full control of their body still, or maybe just that they were in immense pain.

It led to a lot of people speculating that Kris does need a SOUL to some level. Maybe the SOUL is Kris’ but we’re a foreign entity that has taken it over, or that Kris’ original actual SOUL has been removed and replaced with us. If Kris needed the SOUL to live, that would explain their slow, deliberate movements and also why they keep putting us back inside despite clearly hating being under our control.

So now, with Chapter 4 giving us a much better glimpse of SOUL-less Kris doing stuff… it’s notable that they seem… fully capable of moving ‘normally’. Angrily, but normally.

Even when they do the whole Creepy Zombie Walk thing they are notably faster than they seemed to be in Chapters 1 + 2

They can do things that require fine motor skills, focus and swiftness like playing the piano, handling glasses, and beating the shit out of us with a hockey stick and it's all animated as smoothly as most other Deltarune Animations. Not really implying effort or stiffness the way that original Creepy Zombie Walk animation did.

And while Susie only gets a brief moment to interact with SOUL-less Kris in the Normal Route

Noelle has prolonged interactions with them in the Weird Route (both on-screen in Chapter 4 and off-screen in-between Chapters 2 and 3) and... while she does note that they sounded 'weak and shaky' and obviously their behavior seems weird on account of the whole 'traumatized by the Unkillable Evil Time-Demon only they can see" thing

... There's nothing to really indicate that there's anything outright unnatural or 'zombie-like' about the way Kris moves and interacts with her while SOUL-less. Since this is the Weird Route, Noelle even note this is the most natural and Kris-like they've acted in the last few days.... until we take over again.

And now we know they can go without the SOUL for a fairly prolonged period of time. The Ominous Phone Voice of Probably Carol does tells them they need the SOUL, it seems unclear why.

So… what that means for SOUL-less Kris’ behavior before? It’s possible that even if Kris can operate without a SOUL, it still hurts like hell. So right after tearing out the SOUL they are in Maximum Pain and it's hard to ignore, causing them to move in a struggling and slow manner. But the more they go without it, they kinda get used to it and the pain fades into the background - allowing them to do stuff more-or-less normally.

(Basically Kris has Chronic Pain but the only Painkiller that works for them is Demonic Possession)

…Or, knowing Kris, maybe this… was all an act. They were only behaving like This because they knew we were watching. It is pretty notable that they walk around normally in the Holidays' Kitchen while we're eavesdropping on them and only swap to the Creepy Walk Animation once they notice us....

Maybe this is an act, either to make us underestimate the things Kris could do SOUL-less… or because they’re a little teen Edgelord so they just enjoy playing up the whole Soulless Zombie thing when they have a chance.

[midnightloversmusic]

Hey, I read your virgin James x reader. I really liked it and I was wondering if you would write the opposite?

Like reader who's has no experience and James offers to be their first time and its all super sweet and loving.

thank you for the request lovely :) cw: smut, loss of virginity

James Potter x Fem!Reader 1.1k words

----

"Love, this isn't going to work if you keep tensing up" James' voice is soft but his words are slightly exasperated,

"Sorry" slips out of your mouth as you move your hands to cover your eyes

James tsks, "nothin' to be sorry for angel, just don't want it to hurt for you" he says as his had runs comfortingly up and down your thigh.

he's currently between your spread legs, one hand holding onto himself at your entrance and the other trying to calm you down.

you take a deep breath

"we don't have to do this if you aren't ready-"

"I'm ready!" comes out of your mouth so fast it makes James chuckle. The truth is you wouldn't rather be doing this with anyone else. you know James will be gentle with you. He wouldn't hurt you, not on purpose, he wouldn't forgive himself.

He reaches his hand that was stroking your thigh to pull your hands from your face

"Would you stop hiding, please?"

you peer up at him and his expression is soft, loving almost in more than a friend way, which is just preposterous because he's only doing you a favor by taking your virginity. You had been talking to him about how frustrated you were, how everyone else talks to you about their sex life and you can't relate to them or give them any advise because you'd never experienced it.

James, sweet as always, listened to everything you were saying with his doe eyes practically dripping with sincerity.

You had admitted how you felt like something was wrong with you. Because why else would you not have done it already? James did not approve.

he shook his head and said a bunch of comforting words that all blurred together and were forgotten when he said "I could do it"

you thought he was joking at first.

But one look at his expression told you the opposite.

James had never gotten into details about his sex life with you before, but you always assumed that he was some sort of sex god, not that you thought about him having sex, okay maybe you thought about it once, okay so you thought about it more than you'd like to admit, which is why him asking you to have sex with him when he knows you are a virgin kind of turned your brain into mush.

You don't remember much after that, a quick conversation, tentative and soft touches, a slow kiss, a faster kiss, a very heated kiss, getting carried to the bedroom, him laying you down on your bed, slowly slipping out of your clothes in between kisses.

and now you're here.

breathe

He's still looking at you with that soft expression and it helps you calm down a bit it's just James.

you feel your muscles relax as your nerves lessen,

James beams "Atta girl"

he gives you a quick peck and resumes his previous position. As he lines himself up you distract yourself by running your eyes across his abs, memorizing every curve of muscle, every blemish on his skin, every mark, and then he slide in.

It's only the tip at first, but you still suck in a breath and close your eyes.

It doesn't hurt, but the feeling is still odd and new

You look up at James as he takes a shakey inhale and breathes out an "Okay?"

you nod your head and reach for his hand holding your thigh

"you can do a little more, I think I can take it"

James studies your face, when he shows no trace of hesitance he moves in a bit more

the stretch of him burns, but when he brings his hand down to your clit and starts to rub lazy circles the pleasure starts to outweigh the initial discomfort.

"You feel so lovely, you have no idea y/n" James lets out as his gaze is stuck on your pussy making you suddenly shy which is comical considering he's inside of you,

"James-"

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this, love. No idea how happy I am that I'm going to be the one to make you fall apart"

his finger speeds up its circles and he inches himself deeper into you, making you forget any response you had been building. Your strangled cry of his name is now pleading instead of shy

you watch as his abs twitch as he bottoms out and you are a mess.

"James please, please. Please. I need more- I need you to move, I-"

he shushes you and slowly moves his hips back, pulling out all the way to his tip before sliding back in and you are on cloud nine.

Both of you moans and whines blend together, he moves so he is practically laying on top of you.You wrap your legs around his back and he slides even deeper inside you. You steal a few kisses from him, they are messy and uncoordinated, the two of you lost in pleasure. As he continues you are just moaning into each others mouths.

Then the feelings start to overwhelm you, he fits perfectly inside you, he's so deep, his movements on your clit are dizzying. You feel like you're drowning, gasping for air. Your fingers reach his back and your nails dig in as a wave of pleasure rolls over you pulling both you and James under.

your head feels pleasantly fuzzy as you listen to James catch his breath on top of you.

"you did so well for me m'love" he mumbles into your neck as he kiss his way down your chest and back up to your face. he kisses your cheek, your chin, your head, nose, mouth, until you're lost in a dazey fit of giggles.

"I hope I lived up to any previous expectations?" James questions as he lifts his head and rests on his elbows to look down at you.

"Lived up to? James I'm not sure I even remember my expectations after that. I think you've ruined me for life, nothings ever going to even come close to that."

James snorts, "That was my evil plan"

"There is not an evil bone in your body, James"

he smiles at you, "You ready for me to pull out love?"

you hesitate a second,

"It shouldn't hurt, but it might be a bit uncomfortable"

you nod your head and he kisses your cheek before reaching down to guide himself out. He was right, it was slightly uncomfortable but not too bad.

you watch him slip the condom off and tie it before chucking it in the bin beside your bed. He then gets up and returns with a cloth to clean you up. His movements are tender and filled with love.

you really do believe you're fucked now, James Potter has quite literally ruined you for anyone else.

[uconndallas]

Title: Collision Course

A/N: Chapter one was all about establishing the hate. Thats why it may seem confusing the first couple of chapters. I've really tried to make them hate eachother as much as possible, so there will be mostly tension the first couple of chapters. This chapter is quite short, but i promise the chapters that are still to come will be longer than this one! Tysm for reading! <3

-

Chapter One: Full Contact

The second time Paige Bueckers bled because of Azzi Fudd, it was on UConn’s practice court.

It started with a block. It always started with something small.

Paige had driven left, leaned into her defender, and pulled up for that soft mid-range jumper she’d hit a thousand times before. But this time, Azzi was there. Fast. Unbothered. Arms extended like she could read the play before it happened.

Her fingers clipped the ball, sent it flying off-course.

The gym didn’t cheer. There was no crowd here, just teammates who had learned to stay quiet when the two of them locked horns. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

“Try again,” Azzi muttered, already turning.

Paige’s heel stopped hard on the floor. “You got lucky.”

Azzi didn’t turn. “Or maybe I’m just better now.”

Paige felt the burn under her skin familiar, infuriating. It had been like this every damn practice since Azzi transferred in full-time. They were technically teammates, but the tension? It was so sharp it could slice open the air. And it had. Repeatedly.

Two weeks into the preseason, and they’d already been pulled apart four times during scrimmages. There’d been a shove. A shove back. A shoulder thrown hard into a screen. A “coincidental” elbow to the ribs. Paige had a bruise on her hip. Azzi had a scratch across her collarbone. Neither cared.

Coach had warned them. Sat them both down after the last fight and said, “This isn’t AAU anymore. Grow up.”

But that was the problem.

The blood never dried from that summer tournament. It had just seeped under their skin.

Two Months Earlier

How They Got Here

Azzi Fudd was never supposed to go to UConn.

Not at first.

Stanford had called first. Maryland had practically built a shrine. She had options. Power. Paige had committed to UConn early, like it was a promise she’d made in another life. Azzi waited. Thought long. Kept her circle tight.

People said it was ego. It wasn’t. It was calculation.

She didn’t want to follow Paige Bueckers anywhere.

But when UConn made its pitch—when Coach Auriemma leaned across the table and said, “You want to be great, or do you want to be safe?”—Azzi looked past the highlight reels. Past the rivalry.

She saw legacy. And she said yes.

Paige found out through a text from the assistant coach. One line:

“Fudd committed. Get ready.”

No one said what they were both thinking.

Azzi was coming for her spot.

First Meeting

It was move-in day. Sweaty, humid, a typical late-summer Connecticut morning. Paige was already there, sitting on her dorm bed, knees drawn up, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t listening for footsteps.

Then they came. Heavy, measured. Azzi’s suitcase wheels echoing down the hallway like a countdown.

The door opened. She stepped in. They made eye contact.

No words.

Azzi dropped her bag on the empty bed across the room. Paige didn’t offer help. Azzi didn’t expect it.

They unpacked in silence.

Paige put up a whiteboard schedule on the wall—lift, film, extra shots. Azzi taped up a photo of her mom. Paige glanced at it. Azzi noticed. Neither said anything.

It was like living with a ghost you couldn’t look at directly.

The Fight

Practice had gone downhill fast. They were scrimmaging—white jerseys versus navy. Paige on one side. Azzi on the other. Coach hadn’t made it intentional. But everyone else had stopped pretending it wasn’t.

Every time Paige touched the ball, Azzi was on her like smoke. Every time Azzi came off a screen, Paige hedged harder than necessary. They were circling each other all game like predators pretending not to see prey.

It broke on a backdoor cut.

Azzi slipped behind her defender, caught a bounce pass from Nika, and Paige—late to rotate—closed in fast, too fast.

She caught Azzi midair.

Arms tangled. Legs knocked. Azzi crashed hard to the floor, hip smacking against the wood with a sickening thud. The whistle blew. Everyone froze.

Azzi was up in seconds, face flushed with rage. Paige stood over her, breathing hard.

“You undercut me?” Azzi spat.

“Don’t come at the rim if you can’t handle contact,” Paige said.

Azzi shoved her.

Hard.

Paige didn’t even hesitate. She shoved back, one hand on Azzi’s chest, the other knocking her shoulder. Bodies clashed. Sneakers squealed as they slid. The gym erupted.

Olivia had to get between them. So did Coach. Nika grabbed Azzi by the waist. Lou yelled something in French that no one understood. It didn’t matter.

Azzi was trying to lunge again. Paige’s lip was bleeding.

“I’ll break your damn nose next time,” Azzi growled, still held back.

Paige wiped the blood away with the back of her hand and laughed.

“Try it.”

Coach lost it.

“Get OUT. Both of you. Locker room. Now.”

Coach made the call that night.

“They’re staying roommates,” she told the assistant staff. “Let them figure it out in close quarters. Maybe they’ll kill each other. Or maybe they’ll finally learn how to play on the same team.”

No one disagreed.

Present Day

Back in the dorm, Paige slammed the door behind them. Azzi threw her water bottle across the room. It bounced off the closet door and hit the floor with a loud clatter.

“This is hell,” Azzi said.

Paige didn’t answer. Just peeled off her blood-streaked practice jersey and threw it toward the hamper.

“You’re going to get yourself benched,” Azzi added, voice sharp.

“So will you,” Paige muttered. “But at least I’d look good doing it.”

Azzi spun around, eyes narrowed. “Is that all you care about? Looking good?”

“No. Just being better. And I already am.”

Azzi stepped closer. “You really believe that, huh?”

“Every time you open your mouth,” Paige said, “I believe it more.”

They were standing close now. The kind of close where you could hear the breath in the other person’s nose. The kind where fists or lips could happen if either of them slipped up.

Neither did.

Not yet.

Azzi turned first. Walked to her desk. Picked up her headphones.

“I hope they bench you,” she said, slipping them on. “Might actually help us win.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Not with words, anyway.

She just stared at Azzi’s back like she could burn a hole through it.

She didn’t sleep that night. Neither did Azzi.

But the war?

That never slept anyway.

[missinggirls]

Thanks but there's more to it than just that. This is very complicated for someone like me.

First of all- sharing my interests with someone who doesn't like my interests doesn't play out like how you're describing. Most people don't seem to adhere to this ideal situation where we're different and not pointing it out to one another.

Even people who say they adhere to that- they say things like "don't worry I don't judge" - THEY DO THO. They'll never admit they do, but they do.

Second, of course I am aware that there are online communities. Did you know that fandom communities are often toxic as hell?

This isn't my interest blog but rather my sideblog- so I don't talk about my interests here. But I'm almost 40 years old. I've been on the internet FOR A LONG TIME. I've been in those communities. I know they exist.

They're not great and I haven't made any lasting reliable friendships there.

I'm also someone who has no family, not even found family.

I have to watch my ass on EVERYTHING to make sure I don't lose my reliable friends that don't have the same interests as me.

It took me TWO years to find someone who could accompany me to a dr's visit so I could have my wisdom teeth removed.

So when I say that my interests have to be just for me - I am speaking from experience.

Hell I've already lived half a life. I have done and tried all kinds of things already. They don't work.

And I really wish people would believe me when I say that. People treat me like I am just not trying hard enough to find friends or something. There's only so much that can be done!!

I'm sorry but I am so incredibly tired of people telling me to not give up and just keep trying.

Like do people want me to just keep trying until I die alone?? What would be the point of that?!

Do I seriously have to die alone on my deathbed to get the point across to people that sometimes there isn't someone for everyone?!

what matters most about your interests is that they make you happy. whether other people find them productive is irrelevant. you don't have to produce anything. you are not a machine. your interests aren't for others. your interests are for you. do what makes you happy.

[mosskissed]

osamu x fem!reader, mdni, 1.4k wc, pussy eating nd the teeniest bit of rimming.

masterlist

sometimes, after a bad day, osamu doesn't want to talk about it.

anything could cause it — a particularly grating customer, an ill-timed snide comment from his brother, a recipe not translating well from his brain to his prep table — it doesn't matter, sometimes there’s only one thing that’ll calm him down.

this is where you come into play: fresh out of the shower and in only a towel, you’re searching through your dresser for something to wear when he steps into your bedroom.

he barely grunts out a response to your greeting before he's got you crowded against the dresser from behind, the smell of your conditioner and lotion filling his nose and already soothing him a little. he hums noncommittally when you ask him how his day was, planting wet kisses down the nape of your neck instead of a proper reply.

"osamu!" you gasp when he reaches around to palm at one of your boobs through your towel, tilting your head to the side to give him more room to work. he's so big behind you, broad chest warm against your bare skin as he sucks a mark into your throat that you'll have to cover up tomorrow. you can't help but arch your back to gauge how hard he already is; he's already throbbing in his work trousers.

a heavy breath escapes him when you rub against his cock. "none of that," he grumbles into the junction where your throat meets your shoulder. impatient hands tug at your towel until you let it drop unceremoniously at your feet — you make a mental note to scold him for it later, once the growing need in your core has been taken care of. for now, you go easily when he plants a big hand between your shoulder blades, pushing gently but firmly until you're bent at the waist across the dresser. "need to taste ya, it's been a long ass day."

the honest timber in his voice is enough to have your thighs squeeze together, desperate to try and quell the ache.

satisfied with the position he has you in, he drops heavily to his knees behind you. for a moment, the room is still. you nibble your bottom lip between your teeth as you wait for him to make the next move, wiggling your hips a little in anticipation, until —

calloused hands grab greedy handfuls of your ass, putting a stop to your movement. he squeezes firm enough to leave indents, letting the fat of your ass spill between his fingers before he spreads you open for him to see.

the noise he makes at the sight of your pussy is filthy enough to bring heat to your face. you don't have to see him to know that he's completely transfixed, gaze locked onto where you're starting to slick up, wetness drooling out of you and coating between your thighs.

he gently brushes over your clit with his thumb; you jolt at the contact, twitchy enough that he huffs out a quiet laugh. it's almost intimidating, the wait.

you think you'll explode if he doesn't touch you properly soon.

"missed ya, gorgeous," he sighs reverently. you almost answer him before you realise that he isn’t talking to you — he’s talking to your pussy. you squirm abashedly. "c'mon, don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart. i've been thinkin' about ya all day."

"c'mon, osamu," you whine. "aren't there better ways to catch up?"

you can hear the grin in his voice when he answers, "needy, aren’t we? that’s alright, i’ll have ya singing for me soon enough."

he squeezes your ass one last time before his hands drift, moving to grab at the fronts of your thighs. in one quick tug he pulls you back towards himself, using his newfound grip to practically smother himself in your cunt.

he dives in immediately, licking a broad line from your clit to your leaking hole, groaning in appreciation at finally getting a taste of you. the vibration makes your toes curl. you reach a desperate hand back to grab a fistful of his hair, looking for something to ground you. like this, you can almost fool yourself into thinking you have any semblance of control over the situation.

he's always been a messy eater, but it's even worse when he's like this; not even a full minute in and you can already feel the mess of your own slick and his saliva trailing down your inner thighs.

"jesus, osamu— fuck," you whimper when he prods his tongue inside you, fucking you with the muscle. you're completely soaked now, you can feel the slick coating his cheeks and chin, even his nose when it brushes against your skin at one point. everything is so debauched and sloppy as he grinds his nose against his clit. you swear you hear him sniff loudly at one point, practically inhaling you.

"ya taste fucking amazing, baby," he hums, sucking on the lip of your pussy with an obscene slurping sound. "can't get enough of ya. wish i could spend the rest of my life doing this."

in his eagerness, he can't seem to settle on what he wants to do: he switches greedily between lapping at your clit to tongue-fucking you, even at times giving your pussy a second to breathe so he can lick up the mess of fluids running down your legs. it’s as if he can't bear to waste a single drop.

it's taking a concentrated effort to keep standing, even with the dresser supporting the majority of your weight by this point. your legs quake in his grip, and you feel him grin when he notices, though he tightens his hold on you to keep you steady.

you're practically boneless when he decides to explore higher up, circling the rim of your asshole without warning. . "o—samu!" you yelp, jerking your hips away until you're practically on your tiptoes. "fuck—!"

he let's you dance away from him, though it was entirely begrudging. "next time," he mutters. "next time, i’ll eat your ass too, okay?"

the room spins as you nod hazily, barely able to keep up with him as he moves back down to your clit. it’s unfair, the way he knows exactly how to press your buttons to turn you into a mindless mess. in a practised move, he flicks his tongue side to side at your clit, groaning out a strangled version of your name when your fingers tighten in his hair.

you're close, your orgasm looming over you like a tidal wave just waiting for the right thing to push you over the edge — you're close you're close you're close.

you must've been babbling — or maybe begging? whatever it was, osamu takes pity on you in the form of two thick fingers dipping into your cunt. the stretch is enough to have you drooling as you’re finally split open around something other than his tongue.

"there ya go, sweet girl," osamu coos, curling his fingers to rub insistently over your sweet spot. "c'mon, relax 'nd let go for me, yeah? gonna let me see ya come?"

you nod jerkily, rolling your hips to meet the rhythm of his fingers. right when you think you could sob out of desperation, he sucks your clit back into his mouth again, lapping at it with his tongue.

the combination of it all sends you hurtling over the edge at last, eyes screwing shut as you chant his name like a prayer, clamping down so tightly around his fingers that he can barely move them. your breathing is ragged, chest heaving against the dresser as you try and form a coherent thought.

osamu coaxes you through it, only backing off when you blindly kick your leg back to gently shove him away when the overstimulation gets to be too much.

"aw, don't be like that, baby," he chuckles, slapping your ass playfully. you groan in response, still unable to peel yourself up into a standing position as your pulse returns to something a little less concerning. "you just taste so good, can’t i get ya off one more time?"

when the next blind kick you aim grazes his balls, you only feel a little bad.

feedback is appreciated and makes my heart sing in fact !! reblogs and asks etc will be greeted with flowers <3

[thebatdadnomad]

𝔸 𝔻𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕄𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣-𝕋𝕠-𝔹𝕖

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Pregnant Fem! Reader Summary: He was in Metropolis, you were struggling with your shopping. Neither of you were having a particularly good night, but at least Bruce could remedy yours. Tags: First Meetings, Late Night Conversations, Classy Flirting A/N: Idk why (like I'm nowhere near pregnant), but I've wanted to read about a pregnant reader bc there aren't enough. So, here's my take on this trope! Bruce is such a man, I loved writing his inner monologue here hehehe Stay tuned bc I'll be pumping out Dick and Jay's versions soon >;D

Bruce pocketed the painkillers in his long jacket and strolled out of the grocery store, face mask firmly in place.

He hadn't bothered with much more in the way of disguises tonight. It was late, he was currently in Metropolis of all places, staying at Clark's apartment after a mission gone wrong, and the painkillers weren't for him, but for his ridiculous friend who was out. With Lois abroad, Bruce thought it was a wonder Clark remembered to buy food.

"Just because you don't usually need it,” he had told the delirious man who had been hit by the worst end of a spell from a wizard Zatanna had later taken care of, "doesn't mean that you shouldn't have it."

Of course, Bruce could have transported Clark to the Manor, where he had all the supplies, but seeing how close they had been to his friend's apartment, it felt more practical to simply slip a face mask on and head over to a store.

Now, seeing you in the parking lot with your swollen middle, poorly attempting to carry handfuls worth of heavy products to your vehicle a minute's walk away, Bruce wondered what would've happened had he not been here.

Hn.

How should he word this?

"Excuse me," Bruce raised his voice once he was at an acceptable distance and had thought it through, keeping his tone level but light enough that the words carried over the space.

You didn't turn around immediately, as though you hadn't believed he had been calling for you. So, Bruce repeated himself, slightly louder this time.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

That was when you turned to face him, and despite his eyesight not being as it used to be, he was sure you were dazzling under the street lights. Glowing with an energy so bright it illuminated your features in a way he couldn’t quite describe. You had to be in his age range, and yet you were so full of life, literally and spiritually. Bruce was momentarily taken aback by how alluring the sight of you was now that he could see you better.

"Yes?"

"Sorry, I," Bruce's brain took a moment to kick back into gear. "I couldn't help but notice you across the parking lot. I was wondering...if you needed help?"

Your eyes poured over him, cold and methodical, as though trying to detect any ulterior motives, but he had none other than what was said.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind some..." You admitted, half alert, half relieved. "If you're offering."

"I am."

"Then please."

With your permission, Bruce closed the distance and took the bags. Neither of you spoke as both of you made your way to your car until he gestured for you to open the boot.

You didn't.

“Thank you, but I can take it from here.”

“No,” Bruce frowned. What kind of gentleman would he be if he let you finish his job for him? “Allow me.”

“I’m...I don’t think that is necessary.”

But. “I insist.”

You watched him, still eyeing him with both kindness and suspicion.

"...How can I be sure that you don't want something else out of this?" You eventually asked, and Bruce would have thought you were from Gotham had your accent not been so different to his. He supposed you had more than just yourself to protect, he understood. "I have nothing against you, but it’s late. We’re essentially alone. What if you're here to – I don't know – take my stuff, push me to the ground, and use my car for a bank heist?"

"A bank heist," Bruce repeated, a little incredulous. "That would be impractical. I could have simply stolen your things from where you were standing if I needed money."

"Maybe you didn't because you are luring me into a fake sense of security, so that I will hand you my car keys without any protest later," you replied. "Maybe you have a heart and you don't want to push a pregnant woman down to get what you want."

"Or maybe I have a heart, and I simply wanted to help you. Maybe you think too much," Bruce said, and it was admittedly odd to be the person on the other end of this accusation. Hypocritical even. He didn’t want to come across as overly critical. "But I'm not one to talk. I was analysing all of ways I could approach you, so I came across the most natural."

You raised an intrigued eyebrow. "So this was premeditated?"

"Premeditated," Bruce huffed, unable to stop his amusement coming through. "You say that as though I have committed a crime."

"Haven't you?"

Bruce stepped closer once he had confirmed your ring finger was empty. "Unless you count talking to beautiful women a crime. In which case, yes, I am guilty."

You paused, a smile creeping into your expression. "You're a flatterer."

"I try."

The final part of your reservations seemed to thaw away then. The bright light of your gleaming soul melted your reasonable apprehension as you opened your boot, and he began to load it.

"...So, you really just came over to help me?"

"Yes," Bruce grunted, neatly slotting the grocery bags inside.

You hummed, leaning on the side of your car, hand absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. "I appreciate that. I am pretty exhausted, as you could probably tell, so this has helped."

"No problem."

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't a problem for you,” Bruce could practically feel your smile growing. “It seems like you work out."

"Occasionally."

"I think it's more than occasionally," you pondered aloud, eyes darting across his body and what was exposed of his face from beneath the mask. "Although you were clearly born with good genes..."

"What are you implying?" Bruce queried as he finished his task, turning fully to give you his full attention once more.

"I don't think I'm implying anything," you leaned back off the car to steady your weight, and he had never wanted to lift someone into his arms so much. "You are quite possibly the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I have yet to see the bottom half of your face."

Bruce's breaths came out a little heavier, lips tugging at the corners.

"What if I look like a troll underneath this mask?"

You replied softly without a beat. "Well, then you'll be the most handsome troll I have ever seen."

"How inclusive," Bruce was smiling now. It came easily in this moment outside the grocery store. Easier than it should have.

"Oh, shut it," you chuckled just as readily, but it was different. He could tell that you were growing uncomfortable – physically, that was – and it unnerved him.

It was a primal feeling that overwhelmed him then, the pulsing desire to soothe your discomforts and protect you even if you weren't carrying his baby. That feeling made Bruce want to reach out so he could see up close just how clever you were, how elegantly you carried yourself, how strong you were to struggle with the mundane when someone should have been dealing with such things for you. Someone should have been taking care of you. 

Bruce could—

Now that he knew how brilliant you were without caution in the way, he found that he wanted to protect you during the rest of your pregnancy.

But no.

Bruce clenched his jaw, studying you who had stepped into his life and momentarily blinded him. "I guess I should be going now."

"That makes sense. Thank you for your help."

That was a ridiculous idea.

"Hn," Bruce paused, soaking the last of you in before turning his back to you never to see you agai—

"Could I—?" You started, and it was the first time in a long time that he was surprised by anything. "Would it be possible to see you again?"

But then you took a step towards him.

Bruce's mind instantly conjured up a vision of you beside him in a theatre, across from him on his dining table, below him in a hospital bed, holding out a baby that wasn't his but was half of you and oh so beautiful for it and could not believe how much he wanted that with someone he knew absolutely nothing about.

Yet it felt right.

"In a parking lot?" Bruce finally mumbled.

"I’d rather go to dinner," you pulled out your phone, just as quietly.

And Bruce found he couldn't help but be a smudge glad his friend had been hexed, just this one time, smiling a little as he suggested. “I’ll make us a reservation.”

"Perfect," you beamed.

MASTERLIST

[ransomwrite]

Haiii!! If you have the time, and want to, would you be willing to write a Mitchell fic? Or an anything… with Parker !! I adore your writing btw :3

A Balanced Meal

Mitchell Linn x Reader

Summary: You haven't had a meal for far too long, so Mitchell makes you a proper one.

A/N: Thank you for the compliment!!! Sorry if this may seem a bit rushed?? I didn't have much time to proof read this one chat :P

✧.*✎~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~✎*.✧

The sun shines through the windows, the cat clock blinks and blares to indicate that it was time to start the day. You took your sweet time lying down on that bed before getting up and doing your daily routine.

You start the day by using the bathroom, touching up your face and hair, then put on the Dateviators.

Penelope reminds you of what needs to be done today, Dorian and Skylar tells you if there's anything happening around the house.

Suddenly, your stomach lets out an embarrassing growl that gives a reminder that you haven't eaten breakfast yet.

“Hey, Cool kid! How are you?” Freddy grins as you make your way towards him. “You didn't come around the kitchen much yesterday.”

“Well I was busy. Talked to Doug which took an hour, then played with Chance, Parker and Lux. Not the dream team to play with.” You ramble on, looking through the contents of your fridge.

After a long, eventful rummaging through Freddy, you grab some leftovers of a cold, lone pizza.

“You sure you wanna eat just that?” Freddy blinks at the cold food on a plate.

“I’m in a hurry, I'll just eat this cold.” You shrug him off and turn around.

“What do you think you're doing?” Mitchell's voice pops out of nowhere, causing you to jump back and almost drop the plate.

You gave a sheepish grin towards Mitchell. “Hey, just getting a snack.”

“For breakfast?” He gasps, taking the plate away from you and giving it back to Freddy. “No no no! Mon cheri, you only deserve the finest cuisines to sate your hunger!”

With no room for argument, Mitchell plops you down on a chair and sprints around the kitchen to find some nutritional things for you to eat.

“Aw, no need to do all this, Mitchell.” You try to assure him, but he is quick to stand beside you and go through his notes.

“Yesterday, you ate half of a leftover donut and a pack of m&m’s.” He sounded disappointed before flipping through once more. “The day before, you ate two nuts and drank a gallon of milk!”

“At least the pizza a while ago had some greens.” You try to retort.

“I think that may be mold, mon ami…” He sighs, putting a meal in front of you.

There was grilled salmon, a salad, mushroom soup and a blended fruit shake.

“Didn't even know we had any of these.”

“That's because you never cook for yourself.” He scolds

You don't argue with him, not remembering the last time you had a full balanced meal at your own home.

“I had to ask Daisuke, Stefan and Freddy to make these. They were all more than happy to oblige.” With that, you take a fork and slowly dig into the food.

A small hum escapes as you feel satisfied and suddenly grow hungrier by the taste. Mitchell smiles as he sees you finish most of the food.

“This is what I've been missing out on?” You ask with a mouth full of food, though a bit disgusted, the other couldn't help but chuckle. “You should try some!” You slide a plate of the fish towards him.

The two of you catch up while eating the food, before you rise up from your seat with a feeling of satisfaction.

“It’s been so long since we've got together to try food.” Mitchell wipes his mouth with a tissue and turns back to you. “Perhaps we can one day try reviewing restaurants again?”

“I'd love that.” You grin towards him. “How about tomorrow?”

Mitchell returns your smile and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Then it's a date, mon cheri.”

[doberbutts]

Not to be too TMI on my dog blog but tbqh the first time I had sex with a gay man, who actually respected my boundaries and actively wanted to have sex the way I wanted to have sex rather than trying to convince me to have sex the most convenient way for my genital configuration? It made the act go from "people do this on purpose? For fun? And enjoy it?" to "holy shit YES this is EXACTLY what I've been waiting for, let's do this for as long as possible and then again immediately after until neither of us can move".

The first time I sat astride and he put his hand on my (bound) chest? Even with just that, I saw stars. I had not felt like so much a man than when literally bouncing on it.

It opened my eyes to what I had been denying myself, and the realms of possibility that stretched out before me. I hope, whoever is reading this, that you too can one day feel so affirmed within your partnerships as well. I hope that day is just the start of the best days of your life.

where’s that article by james frankie thomas where he says like “prior to my transition there was only one kind of sex i wanted to have. and i thought i could never have it” because i am about to blow these people’s minds