#and it feels harder and more daunting because it IS HARDER and more daunting

[not-poignant]

random genuine question. how do you write a book? I've written multiple fanfics successfully and want to be a full time author nothing too crazy but just enough to make a good living. But I'm finding myself stuck when it comes to executing my original ideas. I plan them out well but when it comes to the acts/chapters and actually writing I can't seem to pull the trigger. I understand it takes time and I may just be overthinking but still I'm worried I won't be able to execute.

Hi anon,

You are probably better off asking someone who writes books for a living, because I definitely don't, and when I did publish two novels, they have never done as well as my serials (and writing a serial is very different - for me at least - to writing a book). Like, they did moderately well, but I consider myself a professional serial writer and not a novelist, and those two things are 100% not the same thing. (Which is also maybe where you're struggling.

Writing fanfics successfully can often have zero bearing on whether you can (or want to) write a novel. Writing one is not writing the other! The processes are totally different, unless you were just writing novels and splitting them up into serial chapters and then, well, you wouldn't be here asking this question sdalkfjad)

There are some great novel-writing books out there, and many can be requested through libraries, and many of their authors have blogs or similar where they teach many of their techniques online. There are so many different ways of structuring a novel (and it can change depending on your genre, and I don't know what your genre is either!) I can't recommend any personally, because I don't read them, because I don't really write novels.

When it comes to actually sitting down and actually writing anything of length though, it's sometimes down to asking yourself a few things:

What feelings are happening in you that hold you back? Are you afraid it won't be good? (In which case there's no way but through, anon, you have to write some bad writing in order to get to the good writing, it's a mandatory part of the practice - a garden needs shit/manure in order to grow, lol).

Are you bored because you planned it all out? (In which case you may need to look into writing novels without plotting them first).

Are you more excited for future chapters instead of present chapters? (Write out of order! And make the present chapters shorter).

Are you more interested in fanfiction's regular feedback from readers? (In which case consider creating a reader group for your original writing, or finding a really good beta who can give you that feedback). (I can't get dopamine from writing novels, so I don't write them, I just find the process boring in a way that's pretty intolerable to me).

Is the novel too huge of a road into meeting your characters and setting/s in prose? (Consider writing small oneshots for your characters and world first. Consider writing side characters in the world in a 2-3k fic. Treat it like responding to a fanfiction challenge. It can often make access to the world a little easier).

Is something about the story actually broken? Do you need to go back to the drawing board re: the strengths of the characters?

Learn how to fall in love with your characters the way you've fallen in love with fanfic characters. If they're not strong enough to earn that 'love'/'obsession' - make them stronger. (Although, frankly, sometimes you can only learn that love by writing them. Think of it this way: When you start writing fanfiction, you've already invested hours of time into learning the characters and their depth. You need to invest at least the same amount into your own characters and their stories before you might stumble across that same love).

Outside of that you can apply any number of techniques to novel writing, but ultimately, a lot of it is sitting down and just writing (sometimes pretty terribly) and learning how to overcome writer's block and understanding why it's happening for you.

For me, I learned that the cons of writing novels just didn't outweigh the pros. The lack of dopamine feedback re: readers doesn't play well with my unmedicated ADHD brain, which means writing to no feedback at all tends to leave me extremely unmotivated. And fitting the novel formula re: story lengths ultimately just didn't work with me either, most of my long stories naturally hit or exceed the 250k mark, which is fine for serials, but not fine for most novels outside of epic fantasy or hard science fiction.

So I would also recommend sitting down and asking yourself what did fanfiction give you that made you able to write it? And what do you need novel writing to give you, to make you able to write it? Likewise, ask yourself - do you want to write original novels? Or original serials? There's a good market for both now, and novels =/= serials. Like, they are naturally written in different ways!

Do you think you would struggle to write an original serial the same way that you're struggling with novels? All of these things are important to ask yourself.

But ultimately, just... I hate to say it, but sometimes you have to force yourself through the struggle, and write stuff while groaning because you know it's bad, to get to the other side. It's like learning any new skill - and fanfiction writing does not naturally lend itself to writing novels with everyone! You are learning a brand new skill!! Just because I know how to draw with pencils doesn't mean I know how to paint with watercolours, and I may be even more intimidated to learn watercolours because I know now how long it took to get the hang of fanfiction. Sometimes you just have to actually sit yourself down and be like 'okay I have to get real good at being real bad at something for a little while, even if I hate it.'

Chances are it won't be as bad as you think anyway, and then even if it is, well that's a normal part of writing a novel. That's why the first draft is the first draft, and not the final product. :)

[mikodaiyo]

I saw everyone else drawing a full moon & wanted to join!

[floral-hex]

god, I feel so empty

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[allaboutthemoonlight]

How to Build Self Discipline

Cultivating self-discipline is the way towards personal growth and achieving long-term goals. To me, it’s really all about making choices that honor your well-being and identity.

Understand that self-discipline is about self love and respect

It’s not about punishment or deprivation, but rather caring for yourself enough to make choices that align with your long-term well-being and goals.

You’re showing yourself the respect you deserve by honoring and committing to changes you want to make.

It’s all about recognizing your worth and having the motivation and courage to pursue what’s really best for you, even when it requires a lot of effort and decision-making.

Frame your identity in a way that includes discipline

How we act directly ties to our identities and how we believe we are. If you believe you’re a successful individual, you’ll live a life framed by confidence and determination. If you believe you’re someone who is lazy and unmotivated, you’ll struggle to find the drive to pursue your goals and aspirations.

Gaining discipline is all about acting as the person you believe you are and moving through life in a way that’s consistent with your determined identity. The key here is to try to imagine who you are at your highest self in a disciplined state of mind.

To start this, ask yourself these questions and slowly arrange your life in a way so there’s no distance between who you are now and your highest self:

What does your day look like

What do you eat

What do you wear

What does your week look like

What does your work day look like

What hobbies do you have

What’s your morning and night routine

Who are you surrounded by

What do you say yes and no to

Have systems in your life

I recently wrote a post about habits and mentioned the idea of systems versus goals. Here, I want to delve a bit deeper into that concept within the context of self-discipline.

To me, another way to truly live a disciplined life is to establish starting systems, something that will propel you past hurdles and reduce the friction that accompanies change.

Let’s say you want to improve your eating habits and cultivate discipline in consuming less sugar while incorporating more whole foods into your diet. You could begin by implementing a system of prepping healthy snacks or meals in advance at the start of each week, or however you see fit. By having these snacks readily available, you eliminate the need for decision-making, making it easier to adhere to your goal.

Anything that serves as a reminder or facilitates consistent action toward your desired outcome is a valuable system in your life.

Be okay with not doing something and embrace the mindset of small wins

This may seem paradoxical in the context of developing self-discipline, but being okay with not doing something is crucial. There are times in life when we need tough love and motivation, but there are also moments when compassion is the driving force that propels us forward.

When you don’t follow through with something, whether it’s going for a run or preparing a healthy dinner, it’s important to be okay with it. You don’t need to shame yourself or feel guilty for not taking action because that will only reinforce negative thought patterns, making it harder to create the change you desire.

Consider this: if you miss a planned run and spiral into self-criticism, you’re more likely to avoid running altogether. However, if you approach the situation with understanding and compassion, you’ll be more inclined to try again next time.

This is where small daily victories come into play. Sometimes, all we need is one small step forward to develop a new habit and maintain consistency. Whatever you're striving to improve or change, if it feels daunting, tell yourself, "Just for today, I'll do a 15-minute workout instead of the full hour," or "Just for today, I'll read 5 pages instead of the entire chapter," and celebrate these as small victories. Doing so not only helps you establish new habits but also allows you to acknowledge the progress you've made and the trust you've built within yourself.

—Luna

[harryspet]

homestead [4] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, jj maybank x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3.6k

In which you can't escape from your inner turmoil, even in your dreams.

homestead masterlist

Tending to the entire house was hard work. You thought you’d be bored sooner than you actually ended up. It seemed there was always more to do with all the cooking you were doing and the laundry that Rafe went through. Sometimes, you imagined adding the demands of feeding a newborn every few hours or chasing a toddler around to your already packed routine. The thought was daunting, but you had signed up for it, knowing it would be difficult yet now you were relieved you wouldn’t be financially struggling through it.

Your growing belly had started to interfere with your daily chores. It was harder to breathe when you exerted yourself, and frequent trips to the bathroom were now the norm. Rafe never complained when the house wasn't perfect, but you knew it was because he was trying to regain your trust after losing control in the nursery. He wanted you to come to him willingly, but you weren’t mentally ready for that. When Rafe did touch you, he restrained his darker impulses, and while you never enthusiastically said “yes,” you found yourself denying him less and less.

When Rafe started leaving his bedroom unlocked, you knew it was safe to start cleaning it. You mostly used this time to snoop around. You weren’t sure what contact he kept with the outside world. He made sure you weren’t privy to the details of his business, and he never called his family when you were around. 

His room was like yours in many ways, yet distinctly different. You felt a more masculine presence than the rest of the farmhouse. The walls were a deep charcoal gray, and the bed had a thick, woolen blanket that looked inviting enough, but the large wooden bed frame was imposing. Heavy, dark curtains framed the windows on either side of the bed, and there was a seating area on one side of the room with a leather armchair next to a couple of shelves containing a few trinkets and books. Rafe’s closet contained your most considerable curiosity, a substantial black safe. 

The way Rafe opened the house to you was purposeful, he wanted you to feel welcome here, but he couldn’t deny he had secrets. You knew at least a few of those secrets were inside that safe. 

Every time you went inside the closet to put away Rafe’s laundry or organize his clothes, you thought about the years that had passed and everything you didn’t know about him. You were in one of those moments, standing in Rafe’s closet, when you heard the shower start in the connecting room. Rafe had appeared from an afternoon in the fields. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t realized you were there, but he’d already started undressing, his chiseled frame glistening with sweat and dirt. 

“Hey,” You whispered, not wanting to startle him, but he was already grinning at the sight of you.

“Hey, Honey,” He started to undo his belt, and you felt trapped, most of his figure blocking the view of the bathroom doorway, “How you doing?”

You shrugged like you usually did, “Fine, I was just …hanging up your dress shirts.”

“Nice,” He slid off his pants, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t avert your eyes; maybe because you felt yourself starved from any other human connection expect Rafe’s, “I’ll be gone for longer than usual tomorrow.”

“Cameron Development business?”

He didn’t confirm nor deny, “You mind picking out my clothes? You have a better eye for colors and stuff, you know?”

“Sure,” You took that as your opportunity to stop staring at the figure that seemed to be growing even more pristine as the manual labor toned his muscles. You resented it slightly, feeling less and less like yourself as your child grew inside of you. 

The closet was a strange mix of outdoor clothing and high-end suits, a signal of the true duality of Rafe’s life. Thanks to you, it was more organized now, and you spent time scanning the rows of clothes. You chose a tailored navy suit, thinking of his muscular build and the deep blue of his eyes. You paired it with a crisp, white dress shirt and a tie with a subtle, sophisticated pattern of navy and silver. Completing the look, you picked out his polished, black leather dress shoes and matching belt. 

You hadn’t realized just how much time you spent mulling it over. As soon as you laid it out on top of the closet’s chaise lounge chair, Rafe stood beside you with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I’m impressed,” He said, leaning over to peck your cheek. 

“Thanks.”

“Stay with me in my room tonight,” Rafe said, his fingers trailing down from your shoulder to your arm. He moved in closer, leaning down to kiss below your ear, “Missed you all day.”

“Rafe,” You sighed as he placed a kiss lower on your neck. In saying his name, you said a million different things. It was a warning that you might resist, that you loved his touch but hated how much you did. 

“I gave you your own space because of your …condition. But after the baby comes, this is going to become our room. I want you to get comfortable here.”

Again, it felt like he was asking the world of you. You imagined laying next to him night after night and him rolling over, taking what he wanted from you anytime he liked. When you thought about it for a moment longer, it wasn’t much different than how things were now. 

“I…I wanted to ask you something,” You placed a hand on his chest and he placed his larger one over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Now that I’m in my third trimester, I’ve been thinking more about, you know, giving birth,” You found it hard to meet his eyes, but you did your best, especially as they started to narrow at you, “With me being here, I guess I don’t know what my plan is anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Honey,” Rafe said, “You think I don’t have a plan?”

“I didn’t know how far we were from the hospital-”

You felt his heart quicken underneath your touch, “A hospital is like, not even Plan C, it’s Plan E. You’ll do it here. People do home births all the time.”

Your face fell quickly, and you pulled your hand from him, “You’re not serious.”

“I’ve been doing my research. As long as we have the proper people involved and the right equipment, it can work!”

“It’s my first pregnancy, Rafe! I want a real hospital with lots of nurses and a real doctor. I want an epidural, and I want my baby to have immediate medical care if he needs it. You’re crazy!”

“It’s not happening.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cursed, your temper flaring. He grabbed your wrist, keeping you from stepping away, “Get away from me!”

“Calm down,” Rafe grabbed both of your arms, pinning you in front of him, “This is why I didn’t fucking bring it up.”

“Let go of me,” You gritted your teeth, “Please.”

“You have to trust me. I can handle this.”

“I don’t want you … I don’t want just you to handle everything,” you replied, trying to find your calm, knowing you might set him off pretty soon. “Please, just—we have to be able to discuss this more. If you need reassurance that I won’t run or tell anyone what happened, then I will do whatever. I care about the baby more than myself.”

“I wouldn’t put you or the baby in harm's way.”

“I know,” you lied.

“Then don’t imply that I would.”

 “Can you just be open-minded about this?”

His eyes held a lot of emotions, but he nodded. As if each of you were frightened of escalating each other further, you pulled away from each other. 

“I want to sleep in my bed; I toss and turn so much, and my pillow-”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a shit,” Rafe crossed his arms, giving in so quickly that your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t waste the opportunity, scurrying off as quickly as your legs would take you. 

You didn’t see Rafe for the rest of that night and were grateful he wasn’t around the next day, either. 

“I like the name Kai,” you said, looking up, your head resting on top of someone’s warm lap, feeling the sun for the first time in a long time. “It means sea in Hawaiian. If they grow up here, they have to like the ocean.”

“I was thinking something edgier,” you heard JJ say, his gaze also moving toward the beautiful sky above. Lush, rolling fields surrounding you, “Maybe like Talon or Blaze? Something cool so, you know, the other kids don’t pick on ‘em.”

“No way,” She shook your head, giggling, “That is exactly the type of kid someone would pick on.”

“Fine …Kai. I don’t dislike it,” JJ seemed to ponder the name longer,.

You sat up from his lap, finally gazing at your handsome boyfriend. “I like it. We don’t have to pick one now, but … I’m just saying.” 

The two of you were sitting on top of a plaid blanket you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t recognize what part of The Cut you were in, either. JJ must’ve surprised you for a date. A cheap picnic was always up his aisle, and you never cared for fancy dates. 

“I still can’t believe there’s going to be a little Maybank,” you said, reaching out to touch his blonde, windswept hair. “I mean, I already love him. It makes me think my Dad must’ve never felt this way about me.”

He touched your bump, and you felt like you were filled with happiness. Everything was right. Things would be challenging, but at least you’d have each other. 

“My parents, too,” the words were solemn, but you felt the opposite, “It’s their loss.”

Neither of you had the families you deserved, but you could provide that happiness to Kai . . . or whatever name ended up suiting your angel. 

“Picking a name is hard. What if we look at him, and he just doesn’t match the one we chose?” You wondered. 

“Then we change it. He could have no name for all I care. As long as he’s healthy.”

You brought your lips to his and melted into him. Strong arms wrapped around your back as he deepened the kiss further. You were at home. 

When you opened your eyes again, breathless from the kiss, you knew you weren’t home at all. Tears filled JJ’s ocean eyes and the sky turned a darker blue. 

“Have you asked Rafe what he thinks about the baby’s name?”

“Wha-” Your lips parted, the air growing from warm to humid. A storm was brewing above that field of flowers. Now that you glanced around, those flowers were just weeds. 

“You should ask him.”

“Why would I ask Rafe, JJ?”

“Why not? He won. He gets you. He gets the baby.”

“He didn’t win. I just …” It came to you then. JJ never got to feel your pregnant belly. He never knew you were having a boy. How could you feel connected to him from behind the glass in the visiting room? “I-I’m going to figure this out.”

“You’re giving in.”

“I’m not!” You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. 

“You should’ve never let him in.”

“I’m sorry,” You were crying now, “I-I was so lonely, and… you left me!”

He turned his head, and you felt the rain starting to fall, “You’ll forget about me soon enough. He’ll never know me.”

“Please, you have to find us.” The words left your lips just as lightning struck. 

You screamed yourself awake. 

You pushed around the baby potatoes on your plate, sitting across from Rafe at the dinner table. This entire week, you’d been struggling with eating. You felt the baby resting so high that you felt full quicker than expected. It didn’t help that you were facing the reality of giving birth inside this house and possibly never seeing the outside world again. 

You wanted nothing more than to meet your baby, but you felt yourself growing more complacent as your time here and the pregnancy went along. Realistically, how far could you get now that you were this pregnant? And how could you leave with a newborn?

“Is the baby moving a lot?” Rafe brought a piece of steak to his mouth, watching you intently as you played with your food. 

“Yeah … a little too much.”

“Hey, an active baby is a healthy one.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “You read that in one of your parenting books?”

He winked at you, “Yes, I did.”

“I’m glad you know everything now.”

“You’d know more if you spent some of your free time reading. You haven’t touched a single one.”

“I’m exhausted lately, but thanks.”

Rafe nodded, “Well, makes sense; your body is changing so much. I should stay home more so I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” You said quickly. 

His fork and knife clanged against his plate as he placed them down. He leaned forward, eyes gazing sharply at you, “What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Rafe, don’t,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes now. 

“I’m serious …did I do something? Things have been going good.”

You went silent, “Can I be excused?”

“You cannot,” his fist slammed down on the table, making you jump. “I had our whole night planned out, starting with dinner. So you’ll finish dinner with me, we will go on a walk, and then stay in my bed tonight.”

“I don’t feel-”

“I don’t care. I don’t ask too much of you,” Rafe interrupted, “If you can act a little bit more pleasant, I’ll still give you the surprise I was planning.”

“A surprise?”

“You’re going to regret acting like a brat when you see it.” 

Your mouth parted in shock, but his deadly look had you crossing your arms and sitting back silently in your chair. 

Rafe’s hands were intertwined with yours as you walked down an unfamiliar winding path. Cicadas had begun chirping, and the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the property. This was only the third time you’d physically left the house, Rafe allowing you earlier in your pregnancy to follow him around to meet all of the animals. 

Now, due to your swollen feet, you didn’t fit into the work overalls Rafe purchased for you or the boots. You walked in silence for the most part, imagining that Rafe was stewing with anger after your behavior at dinner. You cared little that you’d upset him; your mind was focused on repressing the nightmares you’d be having about JJ. 

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small, fenced-in area near one of the barns. Your curiosity was piqued when you saw a little pen set up in the middle of the grassy area. Inside was a bundle of fur that wiggled and barked excitedly as you approached. 

“C’mere, Honey,” He pulled you closer to the pin. The small dog was a golden brown color with long, shaggy ears, and you noticed a red gift bow tied around its neck. 

“A puppy?” You asked, leaning forward. The puppy stood up on its hind legs, and bounded over the pen's edge, tail wagging furiously. 

“She’s cute, right?” Rafe scooped the puppy quickly into its arms. 

“You bought a puppy,” you couldn’t help yourself, starting to pet its soft fur as Rafe held her close. “This is the surprise?”

“Part of it,” Rafe smiled, “You could use more company.” 

You couldn’t help but notice that your lips started to pull into a smile as the puppy tilted its head closer to you, licking at your cheek, “Oh … look at her,” You said, your heart swelling. Rafe had successfully subverted your expectations. Who were you to deny the cutest animal you’d ever seen? You should welcome any happiness your new world wanted to bring you, no matter how much regret JJ made you feel in your dreams, “You didn’t have to…”

“I want you to have her. She’s a cocker spaniel. Guy who sold her to me said they’re good with kids.” 

“I love her,” You spoke honestly, scratching behind her ears. 

“Look at her collar,” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“Just look,” You hesitated but couldn’t imagine him playing a trick on you right now. 

After spinning the tiny collar around her neck, you found the second part of your surprise. Hanging on its collar was a ring with a gold band an a huge, oval-shaped diamond. You inspected it closer, not meeting Rafe’s eyes. Your heart was beating way too fast to look at him. You knew little about engagement rings, but you knew what you were looking at would be considered top-tier. 

“Here,” he said, placing the puppy back down in the pin and maneuvering its collar to free the ring. He held it out to you, and as you stood there, frozen, he took your hand. You didn’t pull away as he eased it onto your left ring finger, “I know we can’t have a traditional ceremony, but I just thought you might think this was special.”

Your lips parted, but Rafe shushed you, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Rafe’s eyes searched yours, waiting for any sign of acceptance. You looked down, the diamond catching the light of the setting sun.

“Let’s bring her inside,” Rafe suggested after a long moment. You nodded, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead before lifting the puppy again. 

Rafe led you back to the house, and his words echoed in your head. What had he done to deserve your attitude? Things were going well. In exchange for caring for the house, you relax in a comfortable environment where your baby can grow peacefully. He’d bought you a gorgeous ring and a puppy to discourage your loneliness. Maybe you were just wholly ungrateful. 

You helped Rafe set up an area for her in the living room.

“She’s gonna need a name.”

“What do you think?” You asked him quietly. 

You resisted the idea of naming your baby without JJ, but maybe you could share this intimate, normal thing with Rafe. 

He propped his fist underneath his chin, thinking, and stared down at the dog, “Are you opposed to a human name?”

“I’m not opposed to anything.”

He seemed a bit surprised by your reaction, but he continued his thinking pose. 

“She’s gonna be really sweet, I can already tell. To me, she looks like a Lucy or like a Molly.”

“Molly is cute. Classic sounding,” You nodded, leaning down to pet her, “You’re so adorable. You need wittle pink hairbows, don’t you, Molly?” 

You heard him chuckle at your high-pitched tone, “It’s settled then. Welcome to the family, Molly.”

As the evening progressed and after you got plenty of puppy cuddles, Rafe escorted you upstairs. The atmosphere was different than the last time you were together there. It was softer and more intimate. He helped you out of your clothes, gentle and considerate of your bump. You didn’t let yourself overthink any longer for the night. 

Your body was so much different from when he first brought you here, yet Rafe’s eyes were hungrier than ever. You couldn’t feel vulnerable for too long because soon he was naked too and pressed against you. The touching, soothing words in your ear and the gentle hands on your belly were almost too much. 

When the time came, Rafe guided you on top of him. He kept you steady, supporting your body with his strong hands as you straddled his lap. That night, you controlled the pace, and the position allowed you to ease the discomfort your belly caused. He watched you like a fine painting hanging in a museum, and his hands never left your hips. 

“Take your time,” He grunted huskily, “You’re doing so good, Honey.”

You loved the praise. You basked in his words and his gaze. You wanted to feel like you were doing the right thing, that you would be a good Mom, and Rafe was always there to confirm that. Your head rolled back, lips parting, as your movements became more frantic and rapid. 

You lost your rhythm, the intensity bringing tears to your eyes.

“Good girl, Honey,” As you grew tired, Rafe moved your hips for you. Hands pressing into his thick chest, you whined, feeling him in the deepest parts of you, “Give Daddy all of it.” 

“Fuck, Rafe!” You cursed, shaking, and he groaned in response, “I’m coming.”

He moved your hips faster, the grinding motion sending you over the cliff towards your orgasm. You felt yourself tightening around him, and like a chain reaction, Rafe’s eyes closed tightly as his orgasm came, “Jesus, baby,” Hands still tight on your hips, he finished deep inside of you, but you’d reached the point of overstimulation now. 

You climbed off of him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He caught you in his arms, pressing his body into yours, “Thank you,” You heard him say in your ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the soft sheets beneath you. When you drifted off to sleep, you saw no raging storms, felt no overwhelming guilt, and JJ never appeared. For the first time in a long while, you slept peacefully, cocooned in the safety of Rafe’s love.

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!zayne, husband!zayne x wife!reader, reader has body insecurities and negative thoughts, kissing, heavy petting, body worship, praise and reassurance, nipple play, clit play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, soft sex, slight dirty talk, slight cursing, use of pet names "sweetheart" "snowflake", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 5.4k

youtiful masterlist

You couldn't sleep.

It was late; later than late—you knew that once Zayne got home, you would definitely be reprimanded for your sleeping habits again.

But how could you sleep like this?

The day had kept you restless.

Tara had proposed another one of her gala nights this afternoon, having practically spammed your texts with an invite for next week. She was quite adamant in this one, considering it was the only time that everyone seemed to be free enough at the same time, and of course, it went without saying that you were invited. But Tara wanted it to be extra special—to make up for all the lost time, and to make the most of the moment, because who knew when you all could get together like that again?

And you couldn't really argue with her on the matter; she had a good point. Though Tara and you saw each other often enough, both being the senior hunters that you were, schedule clashes were becoming more and more common. Suffice to say, it was even harder for the two of you to get ahold of the other girls you'd become close friends with over the years. Adulting was hard, sometimes.

So naturally, this was, as she put it, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one worthy of a little extra—and while exaggerated, in typical Tara fashion, you could definitely see where she was coming from.

You wanted to meet with the girls, just as much as she did.

But formal events had never been your favorite.

Earlier in the afternoon, you had spent your lunch break with Tara in favor of scouring for the perfect new outfit for that night out. "Window shopping only, for now, of course!" she had said, none too keen on spending right from the get go, but excited to scan all the options nonetheless. And perhaps, you, too, had been excited along with her—Tara's energy was always contagious, and she knew exactly how to string people along with her in all of her happy-go-lucky skip-throughs. But soon enough, you were quickly reminded as to why you disliked formal events so ardently.

It was the clothes.

While many girls you knew jumped at the prospect of dressing up a little fancier, it was hard for you to love—you never saw yourself as someone with a body shape that could easily fit into these fancy clothing, and you had always been jealous of the girls around you that did. You weren't exempt from the same desire to dress up, of course, but—it was simply harder to enjoy when it has only ever caused your confidence to dwindle.

You, yourself, had never really voiced out your insecurities.

You didn't know if the girls knew, nor if Tara had figured out why you were so hesitant to try things on with her.

But whether or not you spoke about it or showed it at all, it did nothing to change the reality that those thoughts were there.

In truth, you hated it.

Despised it.

You never thought yourself to look good in those form-fitting clothing; never thought yourself to look good in a dressed up skirt. If anything, it was hard for you to feel comfortable in such clothing at all—and shopping for them was always a pain.

You wanted to meet with the girls.

You did, you really did.

But suddenly Tara's little cocktail dinner party was more daunting to you than you'd have liked it to be.

Naturally, by the end of your little mall adventure, Tara had found herself a few options to go back, revisit and, perhaps, buy for that very night... While you remained blank on your choices.

The mere thought had you sinking even deeper into the duvets, never more grateful for the fact that you were covered and unseen under the thickness of them.

Your mind was simply racing too much.

You, too, wished you could just sleep all of your thoughts away, and maybe,  maybe, the morning will be more bearable.

...If only.

You haphazardly brought the duvet over your head, burying yourself completely hidden under them, and let out a whine.

Zayne would probably be home in a few moments.

He would see you like this, very much wide awake despite all his texts having insisted you not to wait up for him, already on the verge of crying from the sheer intensity of your less-than-welcome thoughts.

You didn't know how much he knew of all this, either.

Though you had been together for a couple years, married for roughly one—the topic had simply never come up. You hadn't explicitly told him anything about it; you'd simply managed enough through all the other formal events you'd had to attend.

You didn't want to be a baby.

In the end, you knew that this would pass, and you would get through it just fine like you always did—

Only that, somehow, today, it was worse than all the other days.

The thought of trying to get through this like you normally would only made your heart churn with discomfort, tears welling up in your eyes unwarranted.

Fuck.

Your lips quivered.

You didn't want to cry.

Zayne would be getting home from a long day.

He would be tired.

He would want to sleep.

He had an equally early start to the next day, and you couldn't—

You couldn't possibly bother him with petty problems you could solve on your own.

You always have, anyway, right?

Why should now be any different?

You heard the door click gently, followed soft, careful footsteps padding the floor to the room—

The minute the doorknob turned and you could vaguely make out the brief flicker of light, you shut your eyes tightly and turned to the side.

You had to sleep.

You had to sleep.

You swallowed thickly as you heard the faint rustle of fabric, the lightest clink of a hanger meeting its clothesrail, and the shifting of weight on the mattress.

Though you were under the blankets, you could feel the telltale warmth of your husband beside you, enough for it to have some form of comcort wash over you in an instant.

Perhaps, too much comfort.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and you drew in a careful, shaky breath.

Of course, Zayne, of all people, would never miss the slightest of cues from you.

"Sweetheart?"

There was a soft murmur of his voice over the top of your head, and you felt the duvet being slowly peeled off of.

There was a rush of cooler air over your face, and Zayne's arms wrapped around you, pulling your body closer to his.

...Ah, shit, you instantly surrendered, knowing there would be no way to play it off, only willing for those stupid tears in your eyes to magically disappear.

"You're awake, aren't you? It's not healthy to sleep under the blankets like that."

His voice was soft, and gentle, and he placed a light kiss into your hair.

You swallowed thickly.

"H-how was your shift...?"

You winced internally, thinking the waver in your voice was already a very telltale sign.

And as you were met with momentary silence, you figured you had been right.

Zayne shifted around, gently pulling you backwards against him, just enough for him to see your face.

And the moment your eyes locked, it was almost as if you couldn't take it anymore.

His lime-green eyes regarded your own with concern, and affection, and love—

It was almost as if all and any emotions swimming restlessly in your heart overflowed in an instant, and you couldn't think to stop the tears from falling. Choked sobs edged their way out of your throat, completely ignoring the horror at your sheer inability to control your own emotions.

You were so... pitiful. So pathetic.

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry in front of him over this, and yet, here you were.

Insult after insult swirled adamantly in your head as you turned, burying your face into his chest, desperately searching to anchor yourself in his warmth.

"What is it, snowflake? Are you unwell? What's wrong?" He murmured into your hair, soft, soothing rubs against your back, holding you tight against him—and you didn't feel like you deserved any of it. You wanted yo shy away from his gaze, from his touch—but the mere thought of such irrationality had you sobbing harder, berating yourself for even daring to doubt him at all.

You shivered in his arms, shaking your head, willing yourself to calm down.

And, perhaps, to you, there was no greater comfort than having him here with you.

Despite the conflicts in your mind—whether or not you were deserving of all of his affection—Zayne, and his sweet whispers of comfort, his reassuring squeezes, his loving caresses... Time and time again, you would never fail to find solace in his arms.

Now was no different.

Zayne always had that effect on you, and, perhaps, you wondered if maybe you should have considered opened up to him about this much sooner.

Now, at least, it was enough for you to steady your breaths, eyes closing, your own arms shifting to hug him back.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he said, running a hand through your hair, soothing you through your sniffles. "It's bad to go to bed with negative feelings. Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't push you away, nor egg you to look back up at him, but you could easily hear the concern in his voice.

You shut your eyes tightly.

"...But you're tired," you whispered. "It's silly, Zayne..."

"It is not silly, not if it can make you cry."

This time, he brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. "I didn't see you all day, snowflake," he nuzzled your forehead. "What happened to make you so upset while I've been absent?"

You pouted, already feeling another set of tears prick at your eyes, though you blinked them away rapidly.

"I... I missed you," you said quietly. And it was the truth, just not—all of it. It wasn't as if you planned on lying to him—what kind of a wife would you be if you did?

But you wouldn't have known where to start on this otherwise.

It was still true, anyway.

You'd missed his presence; you almost wished you had spent your lunch break with him like you normally did, and, perhaps, that way you wouldn't be feeling so down in the dumps like this.

But what was done was done.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart." He brushed the tears away from your face, and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, causing you to close your eyes at the gentleness in his every action. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Ah, a faint, barely-there smile made its way to your face. Zayne always knew you so well.

You let out a sigh, feeling yourself move in to chase his lips, hopeful for a more proper kiss that you had, in fact, been missing for most of the day.

While he allowed you to steal one, his eyes were expectantly searching yours.

You faltered, like you always did.

"...There's... a cocktail party next week..." You started quietly, moving to lay back on your back, eyes focusing on the ceiling above. "Tara planned it just this afternoon. A girls' outing."

"Did she? It's been a while since you've had those."

"...Yeah."

You turned to look at him, another tiny pout forming on your lips. "I just... I don't know if I want to go..." You leaned into his touch when he brought his hand back to cup your cheek, a familiar, comforting action he would often do with you.

"If you don't, then you shouldn't," he spoke matter-of-factly.

You let out a soft laugh.

It was a very Zayne-typical answer.

"Right, because it's always that simple," you rolled your eyes playfully. "...I wish it was, anyway. Zayne, I haven't seen them in forever..."

"Forever would be an exaggeration..."

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, but for a while, you didn't say anything else.

"...Sweetheart?"

Another gentle squeeze of your arm, and your eyes searched his, feeling your throat close up at truly admitting the source of your problems.

But you should, right? This was... communication. The both of you had always valued it; you couldn't just... go back on your own promises to him.

...It might have made you hate yourself more if you did.

"Zayne... I— I want to, but..."

You paused, taking in a deep breath, averting your gaze once more. Your lips quivered again, and Zayne's immediate reaction was to give you another soft, gentle kiss. Now, you could only close your eyes, focusing instead on the lingering feeling of having his lips upon yours, if only to keep yourself from breaking into tears yet again.

"I-I don't feel like I... Like my body very much, these days..." Your voice came out barely a whisper. "It's a formal event, right? Fancy dresses and all that... I went window-shopping with Tara today, and, I—"

Your breath got caught in your throat, and you shook your head, moving once more to bury yourself into his chest.

"I don't know, Zayne... Maybe, I think I just feel—hard to love, right now, or something. And it's so stupid. I know that you love me, I know that the girls do, and I've never questioned it, I just—I don't feel like I'm pretty enough to be loved, and..."

You clutched him tightly as more of your tears seemed to fall without your consent at all, your own heartbeat thrumming wildly in your ears just painfully hyperaware of just how pathetic you were being.

And you've been feeling pretty darn pathetic for virtually the entire day.

You really couldn't tell if crying was making you feel any better, either—you'd held it together this whole day up until now, but each and every time you spoke, it was almost as if the tears wouldn't stop. Even as he sighed into your hair, even as he hald you close, even with his soft, feathery kisses over the top of your head.

"Don't cry, snowflake," he murmured, gently rubbing your back. "Here, breathe with me. Relax, alright, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your sobs, settling slowly into whimpers and then slowly into hiccups, focusing on the steady movements of his palm against the silk of your nightgown.

"That's it. Breathe, okay?"

You sniffled as you looked up, pouting visibly, and he reached over to wipe your tears away once more, shifting to press his forehead against yours.

"Sweetheart. Have you been feeling this way for some time now?"

His eyes were intense. They carried within them was an emotion you couldn't quite place. It was almost as if it had swirled into a complicated mix, almost as if desperate to pull you out of your self-deprecating reverie; only giving way to a certain kind of sorrow when you feebly nodded your head.

"Oh, snowflake," he whispered, and the genuine regret that was laced into his voice made your heart thrum. "If only you had told me sooner."

"...M'sorry, Zayne..."

"Why do you apologize? I only wish to make you feel loved. Because I do love you. And I think you are the most beautiful, beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon."

His words felt weighty on your heart, nd you had to swallow down, for the nth time that night, that very same desire to cry.

"...Zayne..."

This time, he kissed you—soft, and slow, and gentle; not unlike most of his kisses, but laced with a certain passion that almost seemed to drown out all the fragments of disdain still in your mind. His hand moved up to your hair, his other drawing you even closer against him, the heat from his skin becoming ever more noticeable to you.

When you pulled back from his kiss, eyes dazed and mildly breathless, he traced his fingers over your face—from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth, to your jaw... And down, over your collarbone, over the skin of your upper arm.

"You are beautiful, sweetheart," he repeated. And he stroked your arm, never once taking his eyes off of you.

For the first time that night, you thought—yeah. Maybe I am beautiful.

His hand, then, moved from your arm over to your clothed breast, grazing over the exposed skin peeking out of your now-disheveled nightgown, before trailing down to your stomach—and your hips—and your thigh—

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes moving downwards to watch as his hnd repeated the same motions, steadily feeling yourself relax into the lull of his caresses.

"Your hips," he mumbled. "Your stomach... your thighs... your arms... your breasts..." Zayne leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose, offering you the smallest of smiles. "Your cheeks. Your lips. Your nose, your eyes, your..."

"—Z- Zayne—"

"...Everything." His voice dropped low into a whisper, his hand slipping right between your thighs, brushing a knuckle against your clothed heat.

He nuzzled against you, sighing.

"You're beautiful, my snowflake. And I love every single part of you. Do you understand?"

You could only nod underneath his gaze, staying completely still as he moved his arm down to settle firmly over your waist, his eyes conveying a certain desire that was quite familiar to you.

"...Zayne," you mumbled. "A-aren't you sleepy?"

"No."

"But... You always say it's bad to stay up late..."

He gaze was unwavering; firm, yet expectant. You could feel his thumb rubbing circles into your skin, and when he lened back in to whisper over your lips, you could feel yourself dizzy at his hot breath against you.

"Maybe so," he whispered. "But you are more important right now. And if you would allow me, sweetheart... Then I, as your husbnd, would want nothing more than to show you just how much I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

His hand, now, would slide up ever so slowly, tracing the curvature of your spine, and you shuddered—

"Okay," you spoke, breathless, quiet, waiting in anticipation of his movements.

And when he smiled, you thought, truly, you couldn't wish for a more loving husband.

"May I know?" he mumbled as he gently moved the fabric of your gown up above your breasts. "What about your body do you hate so much?"

He stopped when you shivered involuntarily against the cold air on your stomach, subconsciously moving your arms over to cover yourself.

You looked away.

"I understand if you do not want to talk about it. If it's too much, then please, forget I as—"

"...I'm not slim, like the other girls," you cut him off softly.

Zayne's hands gently pried your own away from your stomach, bringing one of them up to kiss at your knuckles.

For a while, there was silence, and you shrunk under his gaze.

What if he also...

"You don't have to be," he interrupted your thoughts with a nod of his head, having finally gathered his thoughts, and his other hand moved back to stroke the side of your waist.

"...But... I-I don't fit well into dresses... My torso is long, and my figure isn't very flattering, my belly fat would show if I—"

He moved lower, this time, to place a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts down over your navel.

"Z-Zayne..."

"You must understand that I think your figure is very flattering, sweetheart. You've always looked stunning in everything that you've worn. Don't you know how much self-control I must practice whenever I see you?" A smile tugged at his lips, and you almost shivered at the look in his eyes, goosebumps raising on your skin when he snaked his hand over to the plush of your inner thigh. "And I love the way my hands would mold into your skin. They fit so perfectly around your waist, your thigh... So easy for me to hold. Very easy for me to love."

He gave you a squeeze as if to prove his point, but you could only look away almost shamefully. "...But I have scars on my legs," you mumbled. "So wearing short skirts would expose them, and they're—"

"Beautiful."

He bent your leg to kiss your knee, gently brushing his fingers over the marks on your skin.

"They are beautiful."

Zayne shook his head with a sigh, before moving back up to capture your pout into another kiss.

"But—"

"No buts, sweetheart. These are not flaws to be hidden, nor things that you should feel the need to get rid of. They are part of you, and to me, that makes them perfect."

Another kiss, this time by the side of your jawline, and you drew in a breath.

"You are perfect, snowflake."

You felt your skin burn against his touch, and his words made you feel warm and tingly.

"The shape of your face is, too, perfect as it is. In case you were wondering. Just as perfect for me to hold, and just as perfect for me to kiss."

A kiss on your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, down your arm...

"I can only say the same for your arms. So soft. They wrap perfectly around me, did you know that?" He smiled against your skin, before shifting to press you onto your back, caging you between his arms and hovering above you. "And your shoulders sit on you perfectly fine, I hope you don't think of them so badly, either. Frankly, they must be tired from carrying all the burdens you keep from me still..."

You noted the seriousness in his voice, and felt yourself subsequently relax.

"...Zayne, I—"

"Do not apologize. I won't ask for it, and you've nothing wrong. However... you must tell me, next time, sweetheart, whenever you feel like this. Can you promise me that?"

A silence followed, as if you were weighing your words—

And perhaps, you were.

It was never easy for you to speak of this thoughts. You'd think yourself normal if not for all these baseless insecurities, and you'd much prefer to keep them to yourself—

But what had that done? All these years spent holding in your tears, only to break at the slightest prod of your thoughts.

It wasn't as if crying had helped you.

It even made things worse, probably.

And it would do more harm to you if you continued in this unhealthy cycle of bottling things up.

"...You don't mind?" you whispered. "I don't want to bother you... You're always so busy..."

"Oh, sweetheart. I will always have time for you. And I am always here to listen. You understand that, don't you?"

"...I know, but..."

"I am your husband. What husband would I be to ignore your concerns?"

You smiled faintly at that, finally finding in yourself the courage to loosely hook your arms around his neck.

In the end, Zayne was willing to be your confidant. And communication had always been important between the two of you, you knew this well enough—an issue like this shouldn’t be too different from that. Why would you keep such things from him, truly?

"Okay," you nodded, a promise to yourself and a promise to him. "I promise, Zayne."

"Good girl."

His praise, so associated now with certain activities that you had often done, went straight to your core—you almost wanted to hide, despite knowing you had given him consent to do as he wished, but he leaned in for another kiss.

You could feel his smile as he moved his lips against yours, biting gently at your lower lip enough to elicit a gasp.

When he pulled back, the mirth in his eyes was clear, and you jumped as you felt the pad of his thumb graze ever so slightly over your pert nipple.

"Z-Zayne..." you whispered, eyes searching his.

"Do you know what I love the most about your body?"

He spoke against your lips, close enough just to touch, but not quite.

You slowly shook your head no.

"You're always so responsive."

His hand moved to knead at your skin, brushing slightly over your nipple but never quite touching. His eyes fixed upon yours, taking in the way your eyelids would flutter and the way you would instantly shudder at his touch;

"So... expressive. So telling."

You couldn't help the way you whimpered, feeling yourself arch slightly into his hand, eyes closing as he flicked once more against your nipple before pinching it between the pads of his fingers.

The moan he elicited out of you was airy and long, and had you opened you eyes, you would see the way he tilted his head, watching you, observing you. He only continued, of course—rolling it slowly, tugging slightly, feeling the bud get harder between his nimble fingers. It was almost as if he were eager to hear more of you moans, and he would get them instantly.

"You're always so sensitive for me, sweetheart."

Without giving you a chance to react to his words, he dipped his head down, latching his mouth over your other bud, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arms. Another moan fell from your lips. You felt him gently rub your waist once more to ease you into the pleasure, expertly working you up.

He knew you so well.

You could feel it in the way he pinched and rubbed at you in all the right places, skillfully swirling the tip of the warm muscle over your stinging nipple. You felt his saliva pool from the sides of his mouth and onto your breasts—when he pulled back with a 'pop', you flushed at the way he casually wiped it away, eyes never leaving yours.

"Z-Zayne, really, you..." You were breathless when he spoke, barely getting a chance to collect yourself when he sat up, spreading you open and settling between your legs.

"You're wet, aren't you?" he spoke matter-of-factly, but the look in his eyes told you that he was quite pleased. "Hm, what did I say? So responsive for me."

His hand moved lower.

"Just like the good girl that you always are..."

Lower, lower, digging into the waistband of your panties—

"And you are such..."

Another kiss on your stomach, and he slowly pulled the fabric away.

"A beautiful..."

His eyes dropped to the way your slick pulled with your underwear, a telltale sign of your wetness.

"Good girl."

Zayne moved to swipe a finger over your slit, collecting your arousal and spreading it over to your clit. He raised an eyebrow slightly at you as he did so, taking in the way you would mewl almost instantly;  "So wet for me, my snowflake."

You whimpered, hands reaching out for him, settling only when he tucked you under his chin, easily slipping a finger into your hole.

"Mmh— Zayne..."

Another moan, and he kissed at your hair, gently pumping his finger in and out of you.

"See how perfect you are?" He murmured, and his thumb would press over your clit, gently rubbing in time with the languid thrust of his finger. "The way you wrap around me like this... I could keep my fingers inside of you all night long, sweetheart."

You could feel everything, with the way he took his time with you, exploring every inch of your pussy almost as if committing it to memory. And he was right—he felt perfect inside you, feeling his sighs against the crown of your head everytime he would clench around you.

He slipped another finger in, and you groaned at the stretch.

"Shit, Zayne," you whispered, feeling yourself buck up into his fingers.

"Language, sweetheart."

You almost laughed at his words, had he not quickened his pace, finally moving his head down to bring you into another deep kiss.

You could feel it—the gradual knotting in your stomach, the jolt of pleasure when he rubbed against your sensitive spots.

"Zayne—" You moaned when he pulled back from the kiss, eyes turning hazy. "Zayne, please, I'll cum—"

He peppered kisses over your face, and smiled.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

You gasped as you climaxed almost as if by command, trembling in your place, eyes wide as you felt the pleasure rip through you intensely. Zayne continued to kiss at your skin, soothing phrases in your ear, gentle caresses over your arm.

"Z-Zayne, I... You...—"

He pressed his cock against your cunt, sighing into your neck.

"One more, sweetheart, okay?" he breathed, teasing your entrance with his tip. "I need to be inside you."

And how could you say no?

You could feel the lust radiating off of him, his chest heaving with remnants of self-control, leaving slow, languid licks on the side of your neck if only to placate himself.

It was rare to see him lose control, but you knew that he would always end up getting like this whenever he would push himself inside you.

He would only get like this with you.

For you.

Your heart jumped, and you nodded, running your hands over his back.

"I can take one more," you mumbled.

Immediately, inch by inch, you felt him sink deep into your cunt, feeling the stretch of your walls to accomodate his length no matter how many times you'd done this.

Your eyes closed as you hissed in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking in the way he would gently rut against you. Soft, steady, rocking movements; the bed would creak along with his thrusts in a lull that had your eyelids fluttering closed.

"You take me very well," he groaned from the throat, voice slightly muffled into your neck. "So perfect for me, snowflake... Your pretty pussy around my cock..."

His words sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, every squeeze of your cunt on eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Haah... Zayne..."

He made you feel loved.

His cock was snug in your walls, every vein and ridge dragging perfectly against you. You were made for him, and he for you—his low moans were music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, your chest swelling with warmth.

"I love you," you whispered, bucking your hips up to meet his. "I love you, Zayne... so, so much."

He finally lifted his head, the lustful cloud in his lime-green eyes mixing with overflowing adoration.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you think. More than you know."

You'd never felt yourself glow at such words before.

The pace he kept was steady, but the lingering feeling of your previous high had you now moaning unabashedly, feeling yourself getting closer, and closer to another one.

"Please," you whimpered, feeling your nails dig into his back when he angled his thrusts, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. "Please, Zayne, 'mso close..."

He shuddered at the way you clenched, obliging you with harder, deeper thrusts, adoring the way you would throw your head back in moans of his name.

"Fuck," he cursed, eyes closing, hips stuttering. "Go ahead, sweetheart, 'm right there with you."

You could feel the way he twitched inside of you, thrusts getting faster, more erratic.

"Inside, right?" you breathed, clutching him tightly, almost locking him in place. "Inside, Zayne, please—together—"

He moaned lowly, nearly driving you into the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your words igniting a newfound fervor. "Shit—you'd like that, huh, sweetheart? Want me to fuck a baby in you? You'll be such a beautiful mother, won’t you?"

Your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the feeling of his cock against your walls, claiming your cunt in the way you liked best. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, "please, Zayne—"

You mewled in your release, clenching tightly, feeling him paint your insides white as ropes of his cum spurted deep inside of you.

You held him close, panting, burying your face into his neck.

"I love you," you whispered, repeating your words. "I love you, Zayne. I love you, and thank you... For always being there for me."

He panted as he thrust inside of you once, twice, plugging you full of his spend, before pulling out and kissing you deeply.

"I love you ever more. I will never stop feeling lucky to have you, and I will always be here. I meant it, sweetheart... You'd make a beautiful mother." As you flushed, he pressed a hand against your stomach, and smiled. "For what it's worth, your weight is perfectly healthy. And there is nothing wrong with your body, okay, snowflake?"

"...I know. Thank you, Zayne."

"Would you prefer to go shopping with me, instead? My shift will end earlier tomorrow. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with you."

This time, you smiled. You snuggled into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth, just as you always did.

"I'd like that a lot."

⁺₊ / an: i ended up combining a couple of requests for this (and the youtiful series as a whole) and finally got around to writing zayne!!! this was incredibly hard to write, i love him INCREDIBLY so, and something about writing him amplifies the need to have it down perfectly 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[linghxr]

Advice I would give my past self about studying Chinese

Recently I've been reflecting on my Chinese learning journey and how far I've come. If I could go back in time, these are 10 things I would tell my past self. A few are specific to Chinese, but most can apply to any language

It will get so much easier to learn new characters. I remember feeling overwhelmed because learning new characters was a painful process. Now when I encounter a new character, I can remember it with relative ease—it’s just a new combination of familiar components.

Don't feel bad about having uneven development in different skills. My listening and reading are significantly stronger than my speaking and writing. It’s super common and nothing to be ashamed of.

The best way to get over being too embarrassed to speak is to experience some embarrassment and realize it’s not a big deal. I used to be so afraid of making mistakes that I would avoid speaking in class. It was only by being forced to speak that I got over it. I'm much better for it!

It’s impossible to learn everything, and time is limited. You have to prioritize. You probably don’t need to know how to say “pawnshop” in Chinese, and trying to jam your head full of 100 words you saw once won’t work. They won’t stick.

It will actually be harder to read pinyin than to read characters at some point. When I helped a friend with a script for her Chinese class, I really struggled because she had written it entirely in pinyin. I had to write out the characters to read without stumbling! I know characters are daunting for beginners, but trust me, you will get used to them.

If you haven’t practiced or learned something, of course you won’t be good at it. I remember feeling so frustrated trying to navigate Chinese websites for the first time. In retrospect, obviously, I was going to struggle with something completely new to me!

If something isn’t sticking, move on. Why waste time on a word that’s not clicking when you could be learning five new ones? It will only result in unnecessary frustration. So unless you need to know it for your class or a proficiency test, drop it and move on.

Don’t beat yourself up when you have trouble understanding music, literature, different accents, etc. These can be challenging even in your native language. Of course you’re going to struggle more in a new language.

It's worth it to pay attention to things like stroke order and tones from the start so you don't form bad habits. Don’t stress about get it perfect, but it’s easier to do it right the first time than to have to correct your bad habits in the future.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all that you don’t know, learn how to express yourself with what you do know. It’s truly its own skill that requires practice. After all, in life you can’t always stop and pull out a dictionary.

I started learning Chinese a really long time ago, but I became more serious about it in 2018, so 5 1/2 years ago. I'm very proud of how far I've come, but I still have a long way to go! I look forward to revisiting this post in another couple of years 😊

[bouncybongfairy]

I loved your fics with zuko, so I wanted to ask you if you could do another one? They were like training together and then he has her in a grip amd heavy smut ? You can change things if you want

🫶🏻

Hot and Heavy

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After complaining about not feeling challenged enough in class, your teacher brings in Zuko for you to spar. He wins, not without throwing a couple of unnecessary jabs. Feelings bad, he finds you later for a rematch. Once he gets his hands on you for the second time, he finds it hard to let go.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Yesterday you’d complained to the bending instructor that things were too easy. That you didn’t feel challenged enough during class. You regretted this because it meant unknowingly sparing Zuko. There was something about him you couldn’t stand. Perhaps it was how cocky he could be or his uncontrollable anger. Whatever it was, it made your heart race whenever he was in your eyeline. The two of you were standing side by side in front of your teacher. 

“Since you’re wanting more of a challenge, Zuko is one of the best benders that’s your age,” he said. 

“Trust me if she was feeling invincible before this, she won’t after,” he said, looking you up and down before getting ready. 

Rolling your eyes before walking to your starting position. That little jab he made shook your nerves a bit, you trying to shake it off. Without waiting for the teacher to properly start the match, he just lunged. You jumped to the side and thought of a counter attack. The fire he was throwing towards you was so hot it burned your cheeks when it got close enough. He was trying his hardest to prove a point. That you didn’t have the physical merit to win. Dust and smoke were flying in the air, making it increasingly harder to see. No longer being able to see him, you were backing up trying to get distance. It wasn’t long before he shoved you onto the ground, pinning your body under him. You tried fighting back for a few moments but went limp after realizing there was no hope. 

“Challenged enough y/n?” your instructor asked as Zuko got off of you. Feeling embarrassed and prideful you dusted yourself off and walked away, saying nothing. 

“You’re welcome!” he called out to you aggressively. 

This comment stopped you in your tracks. Wanting to turn around and correct his arrogance but instead continuing home. Having enough confrontation for one day and not wanting to take on the daunting task of dealing with his anger issues. The walk home made you feel a bit better, the fresh air calming you down. Finally making it home and going to your room. Laying on your back and thinking about what happened; how you felt about it. Of course you were upset but the anger felt surface level. You knew he had a softer side because when he took you to the ground, he put his hand on the back of your head, in case it hit the pavement. There was something about that action that made your stomach twist and burn. Falling asleep while tossing these emotions around in your head. 

“Wake up! WAKE UP! The prince is here to see you, I don’t know why but get up and do your hair. He’s waiting, hurry!” your mother shook you awake. It didn’t register who was at the door as you sat half asleep fixing your hair. Your mom follows behind you, whispering things like ‘have good posture’ or ‘don’t bite your nails’ into your ear while approaching the door. 

“Hey, I was wondering if maybe we could talk?” Zuko asked. 

“About?” you asked, not sure where this was going. 

“Well, I just feel like I was a little too aggressive during our spar. I know how it feels to be unfairly overpowered. I shouldn’t have made those comments, I could have helped instead of just tearing you down. So I thought maybe I could show you a few corrections, if that’s okay… maybe,” he said nervously, which made you laugh a little. Staring at him for a couple moments to see if he was serious or not before responding,

“Do you wanna come in? Or did you have a place in mind?” you asked, trying to dull the grin on your face. 

He accepted your invitation in, complementing your mother on how well furnished the home was. She was on her way out to work, you were grateful for this. The last thing you needed was her watching from the window. He was standing before, in the exact same stance as from earlier. Your knees almost buckled from eye contact. He came at you slowly, walking you through how to block a certain attack. You weren’t really paying attention, he was grabbing your arms and showing where to put your hands. You were so flustered and this showed when he pinned you. 

“I’m starting to get the feeling you just want me on top of you,” he joked, tightening his grip on your wrists. While he was distracted, you flipped the two of you over. 

“So what if I do?” you asked, now straddling your hips. 

The tension was thick; so much adrenaline was running through your body, making your blood feel like it was buzzing. He grabbed you by the waist and brought you back to the ground. Pinning you to the pavement, grabbing your wrists so tight they started tingling. You were trying your best to free yourself but there was no escape. He was holding you down like you were about to evaporate into thin air. You press your lips against his which makes him loosen his grip.  

“Do you wanna go to my room?” you ask, both of you panting against each other's lips. 

He doesn’t verbally respond, instead he picks you up and has you navigate him to your room. Even as the two of you crawl onto the bed, he never lets go of you. Keeping at least one arm wrapped around you, pressing your body against his. Now starting to aggressively take the clothes off each other. Seeing how well defined his arms and stomach are was making your core melt. Looking down at you with such lush and need as your chest was exposed. He sits up on his knees and pulls his bottoms down. An involuntary moan escapes your mouth as you watch his length spring up against his stomach. 

“I’m gonna ride it,” you say, changing positions. 

“Not even a please?” he teased, pressing his back into your mattress. 

“I need it now,” you groan, climbing on top of him and sinking down. 

At first, stretching yourself around his cock caused a slight stinging. However being on top and being able to control the pace and depth made you feel more comfortable. Zuko was struggling to control himself, having to apologize every time his hips jerked on their own. As you started rocking your hips faster, he pressed kisses all over your face. Praising you for how well you worked himself on his cock. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against him. Your stomach was pressed against his, he took over and started frantically bucking hip. Pounding into you hard enough to make cum, clenching and tightening around his member. Grinding your hips down, trying to press his cock as deep as possible. Him following shortly after, jerking into you as your walls milked his cock. After the two of you rode out the oxytocin highs, he had to get back to the palace. Not giving you a quick peck and scheduling another ‘training session’ for tomorrow.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt. 74)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A planned vacation with Namjoon might not offer the respite you hope it will; Something is wrong with Jin and he just wont say what.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Harmless Sickfic, So much fluff, Light angst, Brief smut, brief mentions of intercrural sex, slick, implied d/s, Mommy kink, mommy tae, Brief daddy kink too 🥺, clothing control, implied omegaspace

W/c: 20.0k

A/n: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out <3 the last couple of weeks have been...not great! Here it is! I will repay you guys with my hiatus by giving you possibly the longest bily chapter ever! The heat arc will take two more chapters! No idea how long those will be but i greatly enjoyed making this chapter the fluffiest little bundle of scenes I could. i did not hold back- i think we've all needed a bit of softness.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

You excuse yourself to change. But you find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the mirror for a moment. Struggling with your fancy dress that’s for tomorrow night’s dinner, hanging it up with a huff. Unsure why you’re so stressed, why you’re so anxious. An animal in your chest that just won’t stop clawing at your breath.

You knew what you were agreeing to going on this vacation with Namjoon. A solo vacation just for the two of you sends a very very pointed message. This is a sexy vacation- a private suite and a private onsen only means one thing and now at the precipice of it you feel- you feel-

Namjoon knocks, but you tell him you need a minute trying not to sound scared. You don’t even know why you feel scared; you’ve had sex with Namjoon before, and taking him is no longer quite as daunting of a task as it once was. But you feel unsettled and out of your depth here. Intimacy and romance are so much harder without your pack around you to reassure you to egg you on.

You need to call Tae.

She picks up on the second ring, “Pup!” she sounds happy and bubbly even through the phone. You even hear a bit of relief in her voice. “I’m doing my nails upstairs because Jin and Jungkook are being loud; did you get to the hotel yet? How are the flowers?”

“Tae” you hiss, keeping your voice down. “Did you think I’d spend the whole weekend lounging in lingerie!? You didn’t even pack me a bathing suit!” You whine. Still pacing.

“Well, I was actually hoping you’d spend the whole weekend getting your lingerie torn off of you by Namjoon but-”

“Mommy” you whine, and she quiets.

“It’s at the bottom, the dark red one with the flowers.” You find it, if only because it’s a bright oxblood in the mess of pastels. It’s dotted with pale yellow flowers and crossing straps that are supposed to tie around the slimmest part of your waist several times. It’s very Tae. Strappy and sexy and so tiny. The triangles are so small, it might as well be lingerie too.

“Tae- this isn’t going to fit me.”

“Yes, it does” she quips. “I measured.” You flush. You’re sure she did actually measure, probably during one of your morning preening and grooming sessions that you have a habit of spending mostly in omegaspace, an eager puppet to her hands. The idea that you’d been so far down, so trusting that you didn’t even notice warms your cheeks.

But Tae chose this for you, your alpha chose this for you and your other alpha. Tae does often know best. She knows what Namjoon likes.

Your heart rate slows a little.

“Tae- this is just a mess of strings,” she giggles, and you know just from the sound of it that she did this on purpose.

“Come on, live a little.”

“I know but- but-” you sit on the toilet, and she hums.

You wait, sensing that she’s yet to speak. You can hear Namjoon in the other room, starting to pace. You swear you hear him talking too. The hushed grumble as he talks to someone over the phone to someone.

“I’m sorry, I should have packed you something more modest. I just thought you’d want to- I don’t know, tell me off if I'm wrong but- Don't you want to explore a little? You don’t always have to know what you want, You don’t always have to want it- you can have both. Being wanted and being treated delicately- it's not one or the other.”

Your breath hitches, and you wonder how she managed to hit it right on the head. You do feel delicate- you've felt delicate the whole day.

“You can wear skimpy clothes and Namjoon will just be happy he gets to look at you. He still won’t do anything unless you say you want him to. He’s well-behaved like that.”

“Mommy-”

“You love feeling cute, you love feeling wanted. Let him want you pup, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“You’re just saying that because you like to give Namjoon a hard time.”

“It’s a love language” that does get a giggle out of you. She sounds satisfied, her voice a purr, but she still apologizes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“You didn’t, I just panicked in the moment.” You pause, and Tae doesn’t fill the space with chatter. “I feel so innocent around him, so- not like this. Not that it’s dirty to dress this way, just…” You trail off.

"The pack alpha loves you, he’s gonna think you’re stunning no matter what. You could walk out in nothing and he’d still probably ask before he looked at you.”

“I kinda want him to look at me,” You admit, confess. “I kinda like making him have to restrain himself.” You have no reason to be nervous.

Tae’s voice is a purr, “There’s my girl. What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for the pack alpha?” Her voice is a dark pur.

“No mommy.”

"Perfect."

Coming Saturday Aug 31 at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[incorrectbatfam]

Birdflash? Please?

How about some high school Dick and Wally

Wally fell faster, Dick fell harder.

Wally start developing feelings the first time they go on patrol with just the two of them. There was just something about watching the gears in Dick's head turning as he disabled a booby trap.

Dick wouldn't return the feelings until over year later, when they're watching a movie at the Manor and Wally dozed off halfway through, mumbling in his sleep.

They were each other's date to junior prom at both of their schools.

Dick picked Wally up in Central City on a cloaked Bat-plane and took him to dinner at an upscale place Bruce recommended, but they quickly realized that wasn't their style and slipped out to get pizza instead, even if it meant missing the first half hour of the dance.

Wally ran to Gotham, but to maintain their identities, rented a minivan to pick Dick up from the Manor because the rental place was all out of limos. He decorated it with some cardboard and paint for that extra romantic touch. Bruce wasn't pleased but Dick thought it was hilarious.

They also got part-time jobs to keep their covers (and get some experience).

Wally was a science tutor and Dick often made the trip just to pretend he didn't know what the periodic table was.

Dick worked at a fast food joint and always wrote his number on Wally's receipt with "call me" underneath.

Back in their day, queer people were still nearly unheard of and coming to terms with it, especially as a teenager, was way more difficult. Even though Bruce and Barry would be accepting, the idea of telling them was no less daunting.

A few months into dating Wally, Dick devised a multi-step plan to butter Bruce up and tell him. It included doing all the chores, ordering Bruce's favorite meal, an hour-long queer history presentation with cited sources, Barbara as his hype woman, and a fallback plan where he'd escape to a safehouse. None of that ended up happening, because before Dick could execute it, Bruce told him all about his own past with guys.

Wally came out a little later and a lot more impulsively, blurting it out while he and Barry were in the car before jumping out and speeding down the highway. Barry caught up to him an hour later in another city and assured him that everything was okay. Though, Barry wasn't thrilled about the prospect of hanging around Bruce more than he already had to.

Dick thought it'd be a good idea to sign up for debate. Wally warned him about getting overcompetitive but Dick didn't listen. Nonetheless, Wally didn't mind staying up to help organize flashcards and rehearse before a big meet.

For some reason, Wally joined band and picked the French horn. The teacher wasn't great and neither of the boys knew the first thing about how a French horn worked. At one point, Dick tried to straighten it into a regular horn in the Batcave while Wally contemplated dropping the class.

Arcade dates! Sometimes they went head-to-head. Other times, they worked in sync just like on the field. And they'd always win prizes for each other. One time they didn't win much, so they pretended to propose to each other with Ring Pops.

Another kind of date they enjoyed was teaching each other new things. Wally absorbed new information really fast and regurgitated it back when they hung out. Dick, meanwhile, had a more physical love language and liked to guide Wally's hands in guitar or batarang lessons.

Dick saved Wally's contact as "Roadrunner" and Wally saved Dick's as "Lightning Rod."

[gatorlovebot]

imagine being simon’s personally appointed handmaiden. a very uncommon practice for a king, but he was also unwed, uncommon for a king of his status and age.

a very gruff man with a hard exterior but over the years you two had developed a great rapport with one another. mostly waiting to be behind closed doors to really let loose when it came to both of your respective personalities. in front of the other staff and royalty you were quiet and obedient, but when it was just you and simon you could rib the masked king for days, feeling a thrill in your stomach whenever you got him to huff out a laugh. he could dish it right back though, pulling mind numbing puns from out of nowhere that you pretend aren’t funny. it makes him laugh even harder when you roll your eyes, your only acknowledgement of his “jokes”.

you two were very close, spending most of your waking moments with him. you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do when you were originally appointed to be the king’s sole handmaiden. the king was quite intimidating, the task itself seemed so daunting and you had just assumed that he would be using you for more nefarious duties. while a life of servitude may not have been what you pictured for yourself, a life of servitude for simon was definitely not what you had pictured either.

he was big and imposing and impossible to wake up in the morning. over time you had resorted to flicking water in his face when he was getting really close to sleeping through some of his important appointments that morning.

he liked his baths scalding hot. you would turn your back to him as he shrugged off his robe and submerged himself in the steamy water, pretending to futz with his towels. you always felt something in your heart settle when you heard his deep and satisfied sigh as he finally allowed his muscle to relax under the hot water.

he always wanted you to pick out his clothes. didn’t matter the ocassion either, he said you never lead him astray with your choices. you always felt a sense of smug, satisfation when he finally lumbered out of bed and pulled on the clothes that you had already laid out for him without a word.

the other servants talk, of course. whispers and rumors bouncing off the castle walls about all the time you spent with the king. you tried not to let it get to you, simon promising to get rid of anyone who spoke a cross word about you. he was a man of his word, having banished a knight the month prior who had made an awful joke about the little peasant girl keeping the king’s bed warm at night.

your relationship with simon had well surpassed just your duties, he was kind and although you would never say it to anyone because he’s the fucking king, you consider him a friend. but you can’t help but realize how many moments you two have had recently. moments that cross the bounds of your relationship.

you sat in your little stool behind the tub simon currently was sprawled out in. having just finished washing out all the soap from his blonde hair you sat back, relaxing your aching body for a moment before you would have to get him out and send him off to bed.

“long day, ah?” he commented.

all you could do was hum in affirmation, eyes closed enjoying the quiet of the king’s large bathroom.

“here,” he murmured, not wanting to disrupt the quiet tranquility you two had created, “pop your feet in.”

you cracked an eye open to see him start sitting up in the tub, turning back to you. “what?”

once he saw he had your attention he settled himself back down, shoulders against the basin of the tub. “slip your shoes off and just,” he motioned to his shoulders, voice dipping low. you could picture his eyes slipping shut again.

you hesitated for a moment, realizing the gravity of what he was asking of you. but he was also your king and even though you two had an unconventional relationship, you dare not go against his wishes.

you slip your shoes off and bunch your skirt up in your hands, pulling it over your knees as to not get it wet. you did as you were instructed and pulled a leg over each of his shoulders, shuddering at the hot water alleviating the tenderness in your feet.

“feel good?” simon pondered.

“yes, very much so,” you can’t help but smile, “thank you, simon”

he laughs to himself, just a little breath huffed through his nose, “anytime.”

you slipped your eyes back shut and allowed yourself a moment to sit and breathe and relax. the feeling of movement snaps you out of your reverie, simon reaching up a hand to loosely hold around your ankle. you see his head shift, his stubbly cheek resting against your calf. you had asked him if he wanted to shave before his bath, but he declined, cranky from his long day and just wanting to get into his bath.

you’re shocked at the touch, not as if you and simon hadn’t shared casual touches before but this seemed. emotional. intimate.

you dare not upset your king, but you know something like this can’t go on for much longer. “should probably get you to bed soon, your highness.” you know he hates it when you use his title when it's just the two of you, but you feel the need to have a degree of separation between the two of you, if not you fear you might do something stupid like reach down and get your fingers through his hair.

simon sighs against your skin and you burn at the way you can feel his lips moving, “just a little bit longer, please?”

you can never deny your king, but you never want to deny simon.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ First kiss — JJK Men

Synopsis:- first kiss hcs! I mean…we all love ourselves some first timers so <3 based on this request from @myrand0mfand0mbl0g (thank you sweets)

— word count: 2.8k

— A/n: as someone whose personally still never had her first kiss, I am purely writing fiction. So if the wetness of your lips or the softness is exaggerated, bear with me. Unless you wanna help me gain experience ;)

— Tw: Jjk Men (Gojo Satoru; Geto Suguru; Nanami Kento x reader [separately]); pure fluff; established relationship in Gojo’s part; mentions of kissing suguru in Gojo’s part; height and smn smn; not proof read; mentions of Baking Nanami’s part; a little like very little suggestive(?)

Gojo Satoru:

Fireworks. Kisses with Satoru could be defined as nothing less than that, and nothing more. First kiss from your true love causes sparks they say, i wouldn’t be too sure but it was in the way his hand pulls you closer by the waist, in the way his eyes scanned yours—in the way he smiles mid-way through the kiss, to pull away to breathe— only to kiss you again, harder—something about it screams fireworks. In the way Satoru’s hand squeezes yours, oh so gentle in the way he holds you- almost afraid that he might hurt you. You can feel it still, the infinity around him—daunting so beautifully and enveloping you, compassing you and him as one. And don’t get me wrong, he makes sure every kiss of yours is the same, but it was in the way he tucked your hair behind you ear- the chilly wind and the night sky full of firecrackers—in that way that your first kiss did actually feel like fireworks.

“Satoru,” you mused, smile playing on your lips as you stared at the sky, it was empty still, the evening lay young and bare—but not for long. And aided by your boyfriend, you just happened to find yourself at the topmost point of the entire town—to earn yourself the best view of the fireworks.

“Hm?” You hear him hum, your eyes trained themselves on the sky, to catch the first firecracker go off-his trained on your to catch your smile.

“How did you find out about this place?” You inquired, genuine curiosity—“Don’t go worrying about that,” he chuckled, doing nothing more but to fuel your curiosity.

“Hey, c’mon,” you laughed out, face now fully turned towards him, “we don’t keep secrets right?” Of course you didn’t, not when Gojo Satoru was already whipped for you and the relationship was only so old as 5 dates and a month and a half.

“That we don’t,” he grinned, “but do we really want to ruin the moment? Let’s just watch the fireworks, no?” His eyes no more seemed to meet yours, making you chuckle—“Hey, tell me already,” you called out and he laughed.

“Very persistent that you are,” he smiled as his form moved closer to yours, “had I known you were this stubborn I’d never ask you out,” your jaw dropped at his words and you laughed out—“jerk,” you muttered punching his arm, his infinity long forgotten around you.

A sweet silence, an intelligent silence and he sighed, “you want to know?”

You nodded quick, all too quick, he grinned, “Say please,” it was all for passing time you supposed, so long as it was time we’ll spent.

“Please,” you said instantly, not one to mind his annoyance—which sometimes annoyed him because nothing he did seemed to get to you ever, a love hate situation it induced for him.

“I brought someone very special here once, the prettiest black hair and the sexiest body,” he grinned, his words catching your attention all too quick- involuntarily, the list of his exes (not many or barely any) running through your mind, “and the smoothest voice—they brought me here. And we just happened to, now don’t you get mad, share a kiss here.”

You didn’t mind at all, of course not, until the gears in your brain worked and you realised the person was none other than Suguru, your eyes widened and you laughed.

“Am I being told that you’ve had your first kiss with Suguru and not me?” You asked, tone bordering that of mock anger- he laughed, “Didn’t think you’d catch on all so quick,” his grin widened.

“Don’t you change the topic, you home-wrecker,” you called out and pulled him closer, by his collar, he let himself be simply moved.

“Wanna know how we kissed?”

“Was it genuine?” You asked quietly, not one to mind but interested nevertheless- he snorted, “of course not,”

“Mhmm,” A chuckle here and a laugh there— “I mean I wouldn’t blame you, he’s hot,”

“Excuse me?”

Another chuckle here and a laugh there.

“Yeah, wanna know how?” His breath tickled your face, that close he stood—fingers dancing along the waistline of your dress.

You smiled, so persistent, more than you, “maybe,” you mumbled— “Hm?” And these were moments where you hated him. Those pretend “Hm?”s which made you repeat your statement, the warmth in your cheeks spreading.

“Yes, I wanna know.”

And that was all that was need, a hand quick, a pull swifter- the proximity itself fastened your heart beats.

“This close,” he began, “this close we stood,”

“Toru’” you interrupted, “the works are about to begin,”

nervous, were you? Perhaps.

He hummed in response—“you wanna watch?”

This time the hum was yours—and the cheeky grin, his.

Before you could register, even consider the possibility, he’d turned you around once again, this time, his back facing the silent air, your body slightly hoisted—pulling you closer still—just enough for you to open your eyes and be able to see everything behind him.

And just then, he smiled—“can I kiss you?” He let the question hang in the air—knowingness the answer all too well.

But the first show- you wanted to complain—but your lips moved quicker, “yes,” falling off them all too quick.

The kiss was sudden, not expected, never expected this way, with his fingers tucking the stray hair of yours behind your ear, fingers lingering a little too long along your jaw—waiting, waiting for the perfect moment—caught in the moment. Your legs were wrapped around his torso then, his weight supporting yours oh so easily and he grinned, pressing quickly, his lips to yours.

Sudden.

Too quick. Your eyes remained open for a second too long and the second lay long enough for you to watch, as they let go of first firework of the night.

Geto Suguru:

Kool Aid Icicles . Kisses with Suguru have to be Cold—refreshing, sudden and nostalgic. In the way that every time you kissed, he’d make sure that the smoke that usually lingered his breath was minimal—carrying at all times with him a mint. Kisses with Suguru aren’t cute, but a constant—they’re not always deep nor passionate, at least not every time, but they’re necessary—for you and him. But it was something different in the way you first kissed—curiosity, you suppose, is the best of human emotions. It was in the way December was itching into January and in the way an icicle is not what most people would advise you to have—but they wouldn’t advise you to spend your nights all awake with Geto Suguru either. It was in the way you’d grabbed his favourite flavour and he’d grabbed yours, in the way his fingers had pulled your chin closer, only to taste what was his.

“Blue Raspberry and Tropical Punch” the shop owner had muttered, tired—you’d mused, “That’s my favourite,” Suguru grinned as he paid for the icicles—“wait,” you grinned back, “mine too.”

That was all it took to elicit another giggle from the both of you—as you had been for the past evening, laughing and giggling at anything and everything, as two classmates, best friends, do.

“I’ll take that one then,” he began, he was quick to mark down but not quick enough for your fingers had already grabbed his favourite, “Nu uh,” you smirked, “that’s mine tonight.”

You watched him raise a brow, “ok, weirdo,” he muttered as he grabbed your favourite—his was red, yours was blue.

You laughed as you tore the wrapper and licked on his- your icicle.

He did the same, shooting you a glare every once a while as you two walked back to his dormitory, where you would simply crash in for the night—“Have you done the homework?” You asked, hoping to copy his, “I was planning to copy yours,” he confessed with a bashful grin.

You chuckled, “idiot,”

“That would be you,”

You found yourself lightly slapping his arm and he found himself wrapping his arm around your shoulder—“S’getting cold no?” He spoke, letting silence befall his words—“Yet we’re eating icicles,” you added quietly—“wonder why,”

“Why,” Suguru echoed, “Human nature,” he smirked, “to do exactly what we aren’t supposed, curious to see consequences we don’t have to,” his words, on the usual annoyed you often, too hypothetical, too deep, and the case was very much the same this time around—“Wannabe,” you muttered and grinned.

You chuckled as he smacked your head, not saying much—and you let your eyes dart past the many shops—all closed, the street lit up only by the street lamps- “But I get it,” you began, “We shouldn’t be doing this either,”

His smile reached you in your peripheral view—“why?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “not like we’re doing anything bad,” maybe it was the way he spoke, or maybe it was the way he held you close—held you safely that would’ve made you feel fine even if you were doing something bad.

“No of course not,” you giggled, “two teenagers just shifting through the street at…” you checked your watch, “…1:22 a.m.”

He giggled back—“don’t see no issues, darling,”

And in that moment, you did in fact thank him internally for at least his words warming your face all so quick had some use to it.

You both walked in silence there on, just a little more and you’d have reached his dorm—he’d sleep on the couch as usual—ever the sworn gentleman with you—“I want my icicle back,” you heard him mumble, almost a whine.

“What?” You brows furrowed—“it’s mine,” you whined back.

“No it’s not,” he chuckled, “this,” he poked out his tongue to show how reddened the icicle had gotten it, “is yours,”

You couldn’t help but poke your own tongue out then, “and this is yours?” You asked innocently, not realising the implication, causing him to smirk, “yes I’d like so think so, yes,”

You hummed, “you can have a taste,” you mumbled, looking at him as you both halted, “I can?” He raised a brow, “Yeah,” you nodded.

Silence.

He chuckled, “I do wanna taste it so…” he leaned in, subsequently you began raising your icicle upto his mouth—“No,” he stated, looking directly into yours eyes, “I wanna taste it,” he repeated—and finally, things came crashing down on you.

“Oh,” you muttered, fingers fiddling with the hem of his jacket—the one he let you wear to shield you from the cold—“It’s nothing bad, you know?” He whispered, stepping in close, “It’s nit something you’re supposed to do either so feel free to say no,” he comforted, a tone fully respectful.

“I know,” you nodded, “makes me want to do it all the more,” you smiled nervously, “you’ve turned me into a poetic wannabe like you,” you grinned, “shut up,” he smiled back.

“In the name of curiosity,” you whispered as you got on your tip toes, causing him to chuckle, “yeah? And what are we discovering?” His voice, somehow, softer than yours—“if the red on your tongue and the blue on mine will make a purple or no,” he laughed quietly, his hand on your waist, holding you close- “Directly for the tongue? You’re so dirty,” he grinned and just then, he leaned in.

His hands cupped your face softly, gently, before his fingers roughly tilted your face towards him- the chill of the night had you shivering, but he held you and just then you realised that Suguru’s kisses were colder than kool aid Icicles — but his touch was searing hot and his breathless smile was utterly beautiful.

Nanami Kento:

Freshly baked banana bread. Kisses with Kento were nothing if not warm and a little sweet. It was no secret to anyone that Kento loved bakery items, all the more so, he loved freshly baked goods and cherry on top would be if you baked it. They say first kisses from your true love feels like home and nothing ever felt more like home when you were the one to bake him his mom’s special banana bread. It was sweet in the way he was hesitant, nervous, awkward—larger hands placing you on the counter—pinning you there. It was mayhaps in the way his hands managed to drop the bag of chocolate chips down when you kissed back—or mayhaps the way his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose as he leaned in more so. You weren’t sure to what it was, but kisses with Kento were always sweet and soft- much like the banana bread you baked.

“How much flour are you putting?” His voice was gruff, annoyed, quiet.

You remained silent—you had never baked with measurements and today was not the day that you would change—“you’ve already messed up the sugar proportion, just—”

“—Shut up,” you snapped, “your mother cooked with respect which is why it always tasted good but right now, love is the last thing on my hands,” and his just so happened to lock upon the knife in your hands- enough to quieten him down.

You rolled your eyes, he rolled his- “have you at least greased the pan?”

“I thought you would!”

A sharp inhale, sharper exhale — “What would you like me to order tonight?” Your work colleague asked, piquing your interest—“what?” The hands which were busy mixing the batter now stared at him, “because you know, I’m not eating that,” he replied.

Had you nit been annoyed up till then, be assured that he certainly got your blood boiling now.

But you smiled, ever so sarcastically.

“A little bit of rat poison for you please?” You quirked, a subtle smile lining your face— he raised a brow, “why? Aren’t you as a snake well enough?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Once,” you chuckled, exasperation getting the better of you, “once i snipped to Satoru that you practice kissing on your mirror and you hold it against me for 7 years, pathetic,”

You weren’t so sure, over the slow hum of the oven but maybe he chuckled—“a snake nonetheless,”

“Why’d ya get the snake to bake your mom’s special bread huh?” You edged, teasing him all the more—“the snake just so happens to be a talented snake, so why not?”

And you found yourself giggling, “alright then, mr.rat,” you chuckled at your own joke, “the batter’s done—get me the mould,”

Kento looked at you—despite his rude words and a usually mean demeanour, he grinned and the grin which lay all too close to that of a cute puppy—“here,” he handed you the mould, and you took note of the flour coating his fingers—from the little “flour fight” you had earlier- evidence of which lay the messy kitchen and the flour in both of yours’ hair.

You began pouring the batter in when suddenly—“wanna taste the batter?”

“Huh?” A head tilt he passed, brows furrowed, “sure,”

Now, Nanami expected a lick from a spoon but when he saw you dipping your finger in, his eyes widened all too much—and yet, deny you, he wouldn’t.

You raised your hand, finger coated in your the bread’s batter, urging him to lick it—“although I might’ve fucked your mom’s recipe here and there—you owe me a kiss if it tastes like hers,”

You laughed and he did too, innocent joke—of course your batter tasted nothing like hers, yours wasn’t made with love like hers.

So amidst his chuckle he kicked your finger, shock coating his face right after.

“What?” You asked, concerned—“did I put salt instead?” Your mind was frantic, his eyes more so, “No,” he muttered, confused, “how does it taste just like hers?” He mumbled to himself.

“What?” It was your turn now—“no way,” you chuckled—only to mirror his expression after tasting it.

And behold your surprise for it did in fact taste just like his mom’s infamous banana bread- despite the guesstimated measurements and when all was said and done, the batter placed in to bake—realisation settled in.

A blush crept on your face, and his did too—“the bread…think it’ll be good,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t remember your comment.

And in all honesty, Kento didn’t want to remember it either—but he would damned if he let go of a chance such to kiss you—“I owe you something,” he stated.

Your lips pursed— but not in annoyance, for maybe just maybe, a mutual pining was finally obvious to both of you and not just your friends—“yeah,” you whispered back.

He stepped closer, all too close but nothing you’d stop, “c’mere,” he called out as you found his hands lifting you up and placing you on the counter—“where would you like it?” He asked, a smile inevitable—his grip on the chocolate chip bag, he was in the middle of removing it to make space for you.

“Don’t fucking tease me,”

A smirk and then a kiss, you pulled him in close—his eyes wide when your lips placed themselves upon his—then then shut tight as his fingers drew circles on your back, breaking the kiss only to breathe — you smiled, noticing how low his glasses had slipped and in that moment, he found you sweeter than his mom’s freshly baked banana bread.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting. Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[theshadowsingersraven]

I'm curious now. I pointed out to someone on reddit that there was a way for Azriel to show if he actually cared about Elain on a deeper level without a love confession in a bonus chapter. And the example I used was that Azriel could've researched methods of rejecting the bond for Elain, not necessarily so she could be with him, but so she had better access to making that choice if she decided to. We don't know what rejecting the bond entails, but since a "ritual", as small as it is, is required to accept it, I assume a ritual is also required to reject it.

They said that they thought people would lose their minds if Azriel had done something like that on her behalf because people were already upset that Rhys and Azriel were making decisions about her without her there. I didn't see that option as that way at all, since the way that I explained it, it would be for Elain to have the appropriate information to make an informed decision.

It could be really daunting/intimidating if she wanted to reject the bond and learned that actually doing so might not be well-known or a complex ritual she doesn't even know how to begin crafting, etc. In my mind, it's probably harder to make that choice if that's the case. (I mean, we know SJM is the queen of having her mates get together, so it likely doesn't matter how rejecting a bond works, but humor me here, lol)

I thought it would be a way to show that Azriel was actually invested in Elain’s long-term happiness, so she had that option readily available.

Now, obviously, I'm an Elucien and Gwynriel girly, but now I want to know you guys' stance. If Azriel had done something like what I described in the BC instead of having no plans outside of his fantasies, would you appreciate it or dislike it? Would you feel as though it shows care for Elain, or would it not really change your mind? Not changing your shipping preferences, of course, but more so viewing the overall bonus chapter differently or Azriel himself differently.

Let me know your thoughts!

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

The Bear and The Baker: Chapter Five - REPEAT (NSFW)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Summary: She’s relatable and willing to help him figure out how to stop spiraling down a dark hole of anxiety, but she’s pretty and sweet and knows what to say and do… and Carmy just can’t help himself.

(big thanks to @novemberbluesky for beta reading this last chapter <3)

Tags: friends to lovers, UST, RST, pining, wet dreams, masturbation, lots of food talk, reader used to be a pastry chef, mental health, panic attacks, anxiety, meditation, oral sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, handjob, desk sex, first times, virginity, mild dom/sub undertones, kitchen sex, love confessions, blowjobs

Words: 4k

TW: panic attacks

"Christ-" you whine, digging one hand into Carmy's greasy curls on the crown of his head, the other gripping the edge of his desk as his tongue swirls around your areola. Short, sandpaper stubble abrades the bottom swell of your breast as his face presses in, lips open and cheeks caving against your nipple. It's agonizingly good. Each suck and insulated lick's all gummy, sweet, and marvelous like he's molding burnt sugar with his tongue or… or something like that… 

It's a little difficult to think when you're tipped backward, seesawing in Carmy's lap, lower spine against the desk's edge, trembling beneath his hungry attention that switches aimlessly between both bare breasts. Somewhere on the floor lays your bra and maybe your sweater… soon to be home to the rest of your clothes because if Carmen Berzatto doesn't fuck you in the next ten minutes, you're gonna do it for him. 

"Carmy," you hiss, lashes tangled shut and fingers yanking at his scalp, "... teeth. T-too sensitive." 

He pulls away with a moist pop. His upper lip hooked over your swollen nipple, throbbing from a single overzealous bite.

"Sorry," he swallows, slick lips worrying over the tender bud, "… sorry, baby." 

His hot breath fans away the ache, and a wet kiss to the peak dribbles dolce pleasure down your belly, straight between your thighs. Beneath you—against your pelvis—his cock is a dense rod that fogs your senses. 

It's a thicker feeling than it had been even in your mouth. 

Carmy isn't small… which, to be honest, surprised you slightly at first. You've never had anything larger than average, and his approach to flirting and intimacy didn't warn you of anything daunting… though, over the years working in the service industry, food and further niche pockets of upper-class culinary gave you an appreciation for how wrong first impressions could be, as well as a few ulcers and a pesky panic disorder…

Carmy stretches his fingers against your naked spine and presses his hips forward, thighs up, forcing you further into his lap, harder against his sucking lips and branding erection.

"F-fuck," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, every draw of his lips sending a throb through your middle.

While a little bit of that time-old anxiety resides in your chest as Carmy kisses and licks all across it, the thrill of something a little scary and unknown is, for once, exciting and not terrifying. But, you grow itchy with each reverent caress Carmy bestows upon your breasts; sweet pecks over their tops, beneath the swell of curvy fat, sweeps of hot tongue across your nipples. He closes his lips around the left to suck it like he had the right, adding moisture to the oven broil that is his mouth. It's slow and lazy, not hurried at all, which only builds up the layers of anticipation until you're rocking against his cock, moaning as he moans… and tugging his hair by the roots, whining as he sucks even harder… those teeth returning in delicate nips. More pleasure oozes through you, dense as caramel toffee, and-

"Taste," he murmurs into your nipple, "so…" an easy bite, "excellent."

Carmy's palm slides across your ribs, then sweep the expanse of smooth skin to your other breast, holding its weight with prickly super glued cuts and fabric bandages. His fingers dent, and a thumb flicks your saliva-slick nipple while the other receives a slash of the tongue. 

"Do you-" you swallow a strained noise and gasp, "Do you want to… fuck me now? W-want you to cum inside me this time."

"Already did…" he murmurs, thumbing your lip with care.

You laugh deliriously, ending the sound with a sigh as Carmy returns to his sweet abuse on your nipples. 

"You know what I mn-mean…." you whimper, fisting the desk's edge a little harder as your fingers release his messy hair to move between your bodies, groping blindly until your thumb bumps across the slippery tip of Carmy's cock, quickly grasping its hot girth for an awkwardly angled stroke, "You're already hard again…"

Carmy's lips slacken, moaning hot over well-loved nerves.

"I want it—want you to fuck me with it this time."

"Ffffuck. Fuck-"Silenced by a squeeze to his dick, you only get a string of stutters as a warning before Carmy picks you up, urging your legs to wrap around his waist before he starts sweeping everything off the surface of his desk. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A part of his brain is sullen over the mess of paper he's just swept to the floor. An empty plastic pint container clicks to the tile; some Sharpies and that mug that says 'How about a cup of shut the fuck up' goes to the floor too, shattering. Carmy pays it no more time than it takes him to give his desk another wide sweep, sending his calendar desktop flopping to his feet as he hauls her up on the edge. The old metal creaks, but the sound is swallowed by an ambrosial moan, dripping with a vanilla glaze as it smothers her lips with his. She still has a lick of brine deep inside from his orgasm, a realization that sends a shiver down his spine—a pulse to his cock.

Her teeth pinch his lower lip, and Carmy shudders anew, hips rocking up to press his dick against the seam of her jeans. She's wearing too much—too many layers between his bare dick and her heated core. 

"Your mug-"she starts, lips sliding off his for a second to glance at the floor, but he's pinching her chin between his fingers and drawing her mouth back to his, eyes off the stupid fucking mess and back to him. A whimper. Another wet kiss, then a bite to his lip, the upper one this time, and Carmy's fingers smooth around her hips, shoving his thumbs in between denim and warm, soft skin.

"Take 'em," a kiss and lick and, "off," then another, deeper slant against his mouth has Carmy trembling with desire. Same shakes he gets on the line when everything's fucked, but nothing about this makes him want to hide in the lock-in and heave through panic and palpitations. Everything about this, right here… it's good—great—and he's gonna do his best to make her feel the same. Replace all that shit about beating hearts signaling their ends and all about it triggering the start of everything .  

"Now," she nips his lip hard enough to snap him into motion.

"Shit," he curses, ripping his swollen mouth away to plant wet kisses across her cheek, down her neck, fumbling with the button beneath her navel. A creeping ache of anxiety fills his throat as his heart pounds rhythmically in his chest, worried he's gonna need help to undress her—worried he's gonna fuck this up, but then he gets lucky as the front clasp comes free, and her zipper slides down easy. Her bottom lifts and Carmy shoves four fingers under denim and cotton, gripping hard and yanking it down her ass and thighs off her calves and ankles. Shoes and socks hit the floor, and ankles return to lock around his bare ass, drawing him and his throbbing dick against the softest, wettest promise he's ever been given. 

It doesn't even register that she's pulling his shirt up his stomach until she gives his chin a peck and asks him to take it off. 'Please, Carmy… wanna see you.' And he's tugging it over his head, sweaty curls falling over his forehead, more exposed than he's ever been… with anyone… 

She kisses him over his pounding heart just above the triangle of ink from his youth. The act causes a palpitation, and a swoop in his stomach, watching her lean back against the desk, spread open and smiling. 

"Fuck," Carmy puffs out, taking in the contours of softness—the peaks and sweat-shined skin perfectly imperfect and deliciously real. That decadent swell of emotion sticks in his throat; it's the same one he felt back when he finally felt like he had a purpose, standing in his toque blanche while the Chef de Cuisine praised his braciole. But it's better now. Refined. Pure.

"Don't keep me waiting," she's smiling, awkwardly sensual, but a beckoning finger above her glistening folds makes his cock bounce. Her gaze drops, staring at it, and Carmy's eyes follow, widening as her heels drag him in, pressed flush—wet and hot. 

Carmy whimpers, licking his lips at the golden-lit sheen of his cock pinned to his stomach by her pussy—the unflagging mass denting her soft mons… dripping precum down between them where it catches the light and the little, stiff bud of her fleshy clit, snug and engorged against a winding vein hugging his shaft. He swallows, holds her hips in both hands, and looks back up, finding her lazy, smiling eyes and hot cheeks. 

"You're sure?" He asks, needing reassurance.

"Very sure.” She smiles until her eyes crinkle, and then gives him a kiss as soft as hand-beaten whipped cream, and Carmy smiles back.

They both shift, her fist wrapping warmly around his shaft, wetting his dick by rubbing his leaky head through her folds. Carmy presses his hips forward when it pops across her clit and grinds a little… just a bit until she's making circles with his cockhead over the tender bud. Carmy could easily cum like this… try as he might, this won't last long, and that's no more apparent than right now… right as she slips his dick down and deep, pulling him in by the heels in his ass. He steps forward, wraps his arms around her, and moans into her mouth.

And Jesus Christ… this isn't just popping his cherry, but emulsifying it into rich, hot syrup, sticky and sweet. The feeling that punctures his spine as Carmy gives in and thrusts, bottoming out with a great, shaky exhale, is without definition… just sensation without a name…

"God," he wheezes into her mouth, trying to kiss her through the steady pulsing around his cock—the whooshing of blood in his ears—the exceptional everything he finds buried inside her for the first time.

First, of many times, he hopes, almost prays. 

"Carmy…" she moans, and he can feel the impatience, another decadent whimper translating into 'move' and 'move fast and fucking hard' so he grabs onto her back and shoulder—arms almost crossed behind her—and dents his fingers in before smacking his hips at a relentless depth. 

She yelps and digs her nails into his scalp. It stings, much like when he was eating her out in his kitchen, and that had been good… she loved that, so Carmy figures 'to hell with it' and picks up the pace, pounding her soaked pussy until she's hiccuping against his lips, whining and groaning and…

… and pushing against his chest, telling him to 'hold on' and 'take it easy' and 'stop…'

"What-what'd I do?" For a second, he gets that flutter in his chest, but not butterflies, just a pause and thick beat that throws cold water down his spine. Did he fuck it up already?

"You okay??" 

" Uh-huh, just— fuck , Carmy."

He stills, carding his fingers through her hair, musing her hot cheeks, trying to get a good look at the damage: watery eyes, a pained creased between her brows, pouty… moist lips so kissable and raw it makes him wanna do anything, and everything to make them curl into a smile. 

"… did I… hurt you or— shit, what'd I do? "

"Cool your jets, Chef," and there is a shaky smile, but something else, "G-give me a second… slower—slow down a little. Please... "

He swallows the sudden urge to ignore everything she's just asked and just… fuck her until the desk dents the wall—until he's stuffing cum inside her like some selfish asshole, but Carmy takes a deep breath against her lips and leans in to kiss her sweaty neck. Acidic brine and umami hit his tongue; it's sex and something even better.

Gradually, the urge to rail her passes, and he just listens, basking in the slick vice wrapped around him. After a few long, drawn-out seconds, her fingers tug at the damp curls on his nape.

"O-okay. Keep going," she sighs, "… just not so rough. Just… just for now."

Carmy nods. Yeah, he can do slow and steady. It's all about patience; he's got that; he just needs to use it for this and not only for stirring jalapeno jelly for six hours straight. Ever so gently, his hips begin to rock slowly and shallowly. Just four or so inches, just a little over half his length, rubbing the delicate outer ring of her pussy. 

"So good," he pants, "… so tight. How— fuck —how much longer?" Carmy doesn't wanna sound too eager or presumptuous, all traits he despises in himself and others, but… fuck… so good. His thrusts start going choppy as she shudders against him.

“I mean… is this…” Carmy gulps and tries to word that last bit better, "Is this okay?"

"Little more… you're, uh , a little too… big… and girthy."

Carmy halts with the swollen bulb of his cockhead held thickly inside her as a rush swoops into his balls, pulling them taut to his body, ready to burst. He blinks lazily against the crook of her neck, heart hammering, so fucking close to losing it. A bead of sweat runs from his hairline to the edge of his nose as his joints lock, fending off the rip of a climax by replaying whispered verbal abuse from CDCs in his ear…

'You're worthless.'

"Cah-Carmy?"

'Say you're scum. Tell me you're nothing. You deserve to be dead.'

"… you're okay," she says against his temple, planting a kiss over beads of sweat while his cock twitches meanly. He's okay. He's got this… like everything else, Carmy can white knuckle his way through it. And, after a few breaths, the edging of his orgasm fades away. 

"Yeah," Carmy almost chuckles, almost cries, but her palms flatten across his bare back, fingers eroding stoney knots of anxiety with gentle rubbing motions of love and heat. With a nasal sigh, Carmy lets go of the trauma and the expectations and kisses her thrumming pulse point beneath her ear.

"Almost came," he admits, muffled against her throat as he noses her clammy skin. It's so fucking hot in his office—that his mind briefly lands on installing a fan when and if this happens again.

"... hey," she whispers, squeezing him in a tight embrace, "if you cum, you cum. It's more than okay."

He licks his lips and rubs his damp forehead over her collarbone. He can see down her body, between her heaving breasts, at his glistening cock held halfway inside her. No, he's not ready to cum just yet…

With a swallow that clicks in the tiny room, Carmy starts to move in and out of her slick pussy. No more than the first three inches delves through her gummy, vice-like heat. She's so much tighter than he remembers from finger fucking her on his kitchen counter—so much sweeter and mind-melting.

"... ffffuck ," he sighs, "I wanna… gonna make you cum, baby." And again, she makes him want more than good food, sanity, and loneliness. He wants to make her feel good. So… so fucking good. So Carmy slows his roll even more, leaving behind shallow and rhythmic for lethargic and deep. It's almost worse—better—this way since he can feel everything. Each inner ridge plump around his dick, contouring to his girth… sucking him in until his tip is lodged against her cervix. 

Carmy gasps as her pussy flutters around him. Her breath sweats across his hairline.

"... like that," she sighs, clinging to him with hands, thighs, and softness. 

"Right. Good… just," Carmy nods, swallowing, "tell me if—fuck—if you…"

She shushes him softly and rubs down his spine, "Just like this, baby."

He nods again and kisses her pulse, running wet lips up with each slow drag of cock, finding her slack mouth with a great, heavy swell of heat that spreads from his chest out into the very tips of his fingers, toes, and outward. She's a full-body sensation, and while Carmy's never been a sommelier—not even close—he thinks this is what they mean by rounded. Perfect notes that end in words like ambrosia, mellow and rich. Carmy breathes her in with a hard thrust that's still achingly slow, feeling everything.

Her breathing grows ragged, puffing against his lips between wet kisses, her mouth hanging open on a moan so sweet his stomach tightens, and a bolt of pleasure tugs his balls. 

"... god damnit. Hah-hang on," Carmy grunts, grabbing the upper heft of her ass, trying to still the gentle rocking of her lower body as he fights off another urge to cum. She giggles—a din of noise like cooling glass candy—but it's not mean; it's breathless and awe-struck. He knows 'cause that's how his laugh sounds when she pinches the meat of his own ass, filling his office with heavy, happy breaths and her hot whispers of 'cum inside me, baby… I know you want to.'

"You're mean, you know," he pants out, smirking with loose lips when she hums in agreement, squeezing the tight muscles in his back as he shifts on his feet.

He wants to cum, and he will, but it's the same devotion that got him Chef of the Year, which makes him hold off, wanting to prove he can make her feel the same bliss she brings him. There's always his tongue, he thinks, almost giving into that primal urge, but this is different. Carmy wants to feel her cum around his dick, so he sucks down his pounding heart, stabilizes his feet shoulder-width apart, his posture precise, then swiftly pulls her to the edge of the desk, hands sweeping to the backs of her thighs with a squeeze. He tilts her beneath the cabinets spilling with unfiled paperwork, knees up against her glistening breasts, and fucks forward. 

" Haaah-ah… fuck, " her fist grips the desk's edge, the other shoved flat under the cabinetry, "D-do that again," she hisses, then softer… sweeter, begs, "... please."

Carmy does it again, just as hard and swift, getting a sound out of her that's pornographic. He does it three more times, just until he feels her thighs trembling in his palms, then lets his cock slip completely out.

"Wha… what are you-"

He grabs his wet dick and smears the head through her folds, nudging the plump bulb of her clit, ignoring how good it feels to tap and rub it with his plush cockhead, focusing instead on the quiet puffing moans… the way her hips grind forward, swirling herself against the raw contact.

"Jesus Christ, Carmy. If you… keep doing that," she pauses to whimper, "I'm gonna cum."

"I'm gonna make you—fuck—gonna fuck you until your too fuckin' weak to walk out of here," he promises, giving her clit a final, sticky smack before pressing down and back in with a hard thrust. It's effortless this time. She's so impossibly wet.

He fucks her just like she wants, giving unforgiving, precise thrusts, bottoming out at an angle that combs over her thickened sweet spot. With every slap of his hips, he can feel it firming up. Each meticulous, well-angled motion dials her moans up higher. Her hands are suddenly around his waist, holding on tight. That flutter he felt before becomes a wet, noisy slurp, getting wetter and louder… tighter and hotter. Carmy repeats his method several times: thrusting, pulling out, rubbing and tapping, back inside… fucking… and pounding until his heart's in his throat and sweat running down his temples, stinging his eyes. She's just as wrecked, perspiring under his hands on the backs of her knees, licking it off her upper lip and cheeks, hot and shiny.

"... oh, fuck—I'm… yes," she rips a hand off his side to lay flat on his desk. Her hips start to meet his in a messy, slippery mash. 

Carmy watches, hypnotized. The jiggle of her breasts is only one of many mouth-watering delights like she's some feast prepared just for him, by him… steaming, boiling, cooking him alive. Fuck, he's not gonna last… and she's so close… 

Just a little more—just another minute or more.

“I-I-fuck, fuck… I got this…”

He's chewing on his lower lip, watching the rapid blur of his cock as it pistons and slaps, disappearing and emerging, covered in shiny arousal. Her pussy is raw and swollen, her inner lips hugging him. She's sobbing, tears in her eyes, and, for a second, Carmy thinks he's done something wrong. Maybe he's hurt her… perhaps she's been pretending all along, or maybe he's been too selfish to take her hiccuping moans for what they really are, but then she's pressing up and forward, clawing at his back, leaving red welts through sweaty skin, shivering and trembling. 

She yelps like someone spilled boiling water over her lap, then clenches down on his dick in a way that throws him into the back of his own body. It's all auto-pilot now…

“... fff’uh-fuck!”

Grunts rush between his teeth, his lips pressed into a white, pulsing line as the office fills with the rapid, wet slap of skin meeting skin; it claps with her 'uh' and 'ah's and his hot gushing exhales. He feels a fever wash over him. 

Carmy winces with nails in his back, feeling everything all at once until the pressure in his lower back doubles, gripping his pelvis, balls, and upper thighs… until… it just… snaps…

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A dim flicker of sapphire catches in his left eye from the lamp light. It glitters and gleams. Melted ice. 

Deep lines grin beneath his eyes, trapped emotions spilling free. It would be odd coming from anyone else, but you think it's beautiful with Carmy. 

Popping your cherry or lancing a wound, you think only partially consciously; sometimes , the difference is slim to none.

His dick twitches inside you, deep and thick, almost parallel to the soft, vulnerable line of his lips, their downward hook on either side and the tremble in the lower plush. Your hand finds his jawline, the scratchy five o'clock grating. His shoulders tense and shake, but he takes a great breath and lets it out as your palm moves upwards, a thumb sweeping away the tear before it can fall. It all feels terribly romantic until his right eye brims with moisture, and a drop escapes, leaving a line of shine behind. 

"Oh, Carmy…" you murmur without thinking, "Should we have laid you out on a feather bed your first time?"

Judging by the silence, your poor attempt at a joke goes over poorly. A sick prick of anxiety settles in your chest as another tear breaches his lashes. Quickly, you shift despite your sore back, midway to wrapping both arms around him when his lips twitch. Carmy smiles—a snort of hot breath and then a smirk.

"I don't know, blowing my load in Mikey's office feels pretty good," Carmy's smile lifts tight on one end, "I mean, I loved the asshole, but this is…" a whistling sigh, "pretty sure he deserves this. Sorta payback."

"Could say it's also a comeback, " you grin, relishing the surprised cough of laughter from Carmy, lashes fluttering when the both of you feel his dick jostling softly inside you.

"Hey," he whispers, the vibe dropping to somber, "you're okay, though? Right?"

"M'hm," you smile, leaning in, fingers teasing the sweaty curls at his nape, "are you… okay? "

Your lips press in, brows up and open to reassure him you won't judge his answer. When he stays mute, you thumb the slick spot behind his ear, "Seriously, I mean… first times should be a bit… nicer than this. Not that it wasn't nice—it was great—the best—I just… I, uh, hope it lived up to your expectations." 

Jesus, you think you sound like an executive apology video. 

Carmy's smile drops for a second, eyes lazy and large, looking into you like he sees each stutter, each heartbeat, and flaw, loving it all. Tentatively, he closes the distance, kissing you as if it's the first time… like, after everything, there's a chance you'll pull away... 

"It's perfect," another kiss, "it's fucking perfect." His voice breaks a bit with a whisper, "Thank you…."

You swipe a cool tear from beneath his soggy lashes and whisper, "What about these?"

Carmy huffs, good-humored, "Just got something in my eyes, is all."

You snort, then blush, about to apologize for your awkwardness, but Carmy just grins, showing some teeth with that love in his eyes again, and gives you another soft kiss. The aftermath of fucking on his desk is not magical—that's not how reality works—but it's relaxed. There's something like butterflies in your tummy when Carmy fails to bite down a whimper as your bodies disconnect, releasing a hot trickle of cum between your crushed globes.

Paper wings flap harder when he excuses himself with a stutter, begging you to 'stay right there' using his hands to coo you into stillness before rushing on weak knees out of the office, black jeans still sagging around his bare ass. He returns with a wet cloth, muttering 'shit' under his breath as he hesitates at the mess dripping off the desk. 

"Bet you wish I made a mad dash to the bathroom now, hm?" He blinks, looking a little hungry. You chuckle, feeling your muscles tighten and cum ooze. Carmy just gulps and finally slips the rag between your splayed thighs.

"Naw," he smirks, nose against yours as the pressure of the damp cloth, his hand, and your swollen folds brings your heat beat south, "it's a good look on you."

"You're filthy."

It might be far more awkward to share this vulnerable moment with him, where his shaky palm wipes away your combined fluids from your sore pussy, your hips tilted out, and his other hand raising one leg. The kiss he presses to the cap of your knee? That should be corny and sickly, but it makes your heart skip happily… happy skipping… as if you'd forgotten it could do that.

"Thanks," you whisper, lower lip between your teeth.

"Sorry-" he winces, trying to dab away a dollop on your inner thigh, "-sorry, there's uh, there's a lot. Jesus. I really made a mess, huh?"

Something about the quiver of awe in his voice makes your pussy contract again, more cum heating out, only for Carmy to wipe it up with a groan of, "Fuck me… kinda looks like a" He stops, but you know exactly what's going through his mind because he thinks in food and sauces like you feel in flour and candied orange peels.

"A creampie? A twinkie? Bavarian Cream Donut?"

Carmy's lower lip droops, his face ruddy red. You think he will flounder for words like a fish for air, but he drops his head, shoulders limp, and shakes with a quiet laugh. He rubs at his nose and smirks, thumb and forefinger pinching the tacky fat of your inner thigh, right where that stray drop of jizz had been a moment ago. Cheeky and happy, you think, liking the look on him so much that you lean forward and plant a peck on his blotchy jaw. 

You both help each other dress in comfortable silence, nothing but the howl of the wind outside the restaurant and distant car horns.

As Carmy tugs the hem of your sweater around your hips, he swallows—the sound of a bomb in the quiet, "Do you… wanna maybe get some coffee?"

"Thought you didn't fuck with caffeine?" You smirk, watching his hooded eyes open up a bit more as his gaze lifts from your chest to your lips, then your eyes. He matches your look, then drops his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and mumbles, "Yeah, but…" followed by three little words. They're a whisper, more like, but they feel loud and real… more real than anything—more real than the sex, panic attacks, or kneading the dough with a head chef screaming in your ear…

"I might…" you pause, sliding your arms around his shoulders, fingers threading over the back of his greasy scalp, "… feel the same way."

His response is a hug hotter than the heat rattling in the walls, tighter than the choke of fear, but soft, sweet, sugared, and spiced. 

"Heard, Chef."

And you love him, fierce and suddenly, yet not so sudden as it suddenly feels.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Carmy doesn't mess with caffeine like she said, and he must have said at some point, but he's sipping on a cup of black because it's midnight, and he's not done just yet. Somehow, against all odds, he made her cum on his cock less than an hour ago, but it's still two to one in his favor, and he wants to study how her brows lift and crease when she orgasms at least once more tonight. 

"You're being pretty quiet for someone who just got laid, ya know?"

He looks up to find the woman he wants to spend the rest of his shitty life with, looking just as flushed as she did when she came.

"We're not having an existential crisis, are we?" She says it with some humor, but it's dusted in insecurities and quickly covered by a sip of tea. Carmy can sniff that shit out faster than she can hide it cause he understands that shit all too well, but it's nothing like she thinks. If anything, he's almost more nervous to admit how wrapped in his thoughts she is—how soaked into his skin she feels. After what they did an hour ago… as if getting his dick wet has made him some fucking horn dog, she's all he wants to do. Kinda like trying to make up for lost time, maybe.

"Another one? Naw. No, I'm just…" he looks around the coffee shop; it's quiet—it's late—but there are still a couple occupied tables, "I was just-did you wanna… I dunno," he shrugs, looking into his coffee, "come back to my place tonight?"

Her cheeks are blushing near swollen when he glances up, but the smile on her face bolsters his confidence. All that fragrant affection and sweetness makes Carmy feel warm despite the chill the old coffee shop's heater just can't shake. 

"Sure. Did you, umm… " her thumbs brush the lip of her cup, "what-what did you wanna do?"

"Fuck you again," it's an exhale laced with self-deprecating humor to mask his nerves.

"Oh," her lips form a puffy little circle, reminding him how it felt to have them wrapped around his cock earlier. The light rush of blood to his groin almost makes him laugh, like his body waking up for the first time. Carmy needs to reign it in… doesn't wanna come across as desperate or greedy, but then again…

"Sorry, that was… I just-just wanna keep doing whatever this is." He tries to emphasize whatever 'this is' with a palm waving against his chest, gesturing between them, "Been awhile since I've felt like…" 

The word escapes him, though a quick glance at her soft smile says she gets it.

"This. Yeah," she whispers, grin growing.

"Yea, this." Carmy agrees and takes a sip of black coffee, bitter and nutty; the roast over-brewed but rich. 

"And, yes, by the way… I'm up for round two if you are."

"Good," he breathes out, a mixture of relief and palpitations.

"Good."

After a minute of comfortable silence, an older Italian man sets a ceramic dish of cheese and raspberry danishes on the table, sparing a fleeting glance between them before dropping a few napkins by the pastries and ambling back behind the counter.

Carmy watches over thin steam trails as she slides the dish between them and breaks off a corner heaped with sweetened mascarpone. She pops it between her lips and sighs, "These things are always better a little stale."

Carmy's brows lift even as his lashes lower, "Didn't think you'd be the type."

She throws him a smart look and takes a sip of tea before snapping the Danish in half and shoving the flaky, sticky thing in her mouth. It's adorable—cute and sweet, and Carmy's heart beats a little faster… or is that the caffeine?

"Don't be such a purist, Carmy," she says after swallowing, brushing away crumbs, and licking her lips clean. He thinks of cum and blowjobs and kisses in the dim office back at the shop and nervous habits in the rain beneath the car park… and his breathing stalls for a second. Then she takes another bite and hums at the look on his face like she knows—fucking knows—exactly what's on his mind. 

Like he's become some fuckin' horn dog overnight. Wild to think about. Cousin would probably bark at the moon knowing his baby bitch got laid.

Thank fuck it's Sunday tomorrow.

Carmy's shoulders laugh, lips twisted, "Look, don't for a second think I've never eaten three-day-old pasta out the fridge in the middle of the night… cause I've done even worse than that. Not even ashamed," a pause, "... well, maybe a bit."

"Ah, so your standards are finally called into question, Chef of the Year, " she jokes and gestures for him to finish the cheese danish while she breaks the raspberry one in half. "Seriously, I could never understand why my old pâtissier wanted these batched fresh every few hours… something about the filling solidifying, gunking up the filo… just tastes better the next day."

Nostalgic patina coats her words, her cheeks, and her eyes. It looks sad but full, and Carmy swallows before sinking back into his chair. They've talked about childhoods and pasts a few times, but it feels different now. Things are different, so Carmy scrubs his palm across his lips and settles in.

"When I was a kid, my brother and… we'd make pizzas on the weekend, right? Just the two of us. Every Monday morning for breakfast, we'd eat the leftovers cold," he says, licking his lips and tasting salt, "but it wasn't just cold pizza, like, it was homemade, so not so bad. But the thing is, we'd end up ladling these huge globs of jelly and peanut butter on them, fold 'em in half, and have these cold pizza peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch."

"That sounds…" pausing, then her nose scrunches with a smile, "super gross."

Carmy laughs silently, "Not as gross as congealed sweet cheeses."

The sadness melts away, and her eyes twinkle with mirth. 

" Mmm, same level of heresy, but… that's the power of nostalgia, yeah? As kids, we eat what's there or easy, and it sticks with us…"

"Guess you could say food's good at that."

"Hm?" It's a mindless sound as she stares intently ahead, right into his own sleepy, dreamy gaze mixed with gap-toothed times of old and love-drunk highs of now.

"Memories," Carmy clarifies, "You know, making us feel shit when we're—fuck, I dunno—when we're struggling… like a stale danish can make us just fucking forget about everything for a while."

"… yeah. Or like, not just forget but feel."

"Yeah." He likes that. Feeling instead of forgetting or reliving bullshit that leaves him full of grief and bitterness. If he squints, looking for those feelings, they're far away, replaced by syrupy sweetness and sex hormones.

"Heh, yeah." She muses with a blush, fingers pitter-pattering against her cup of tea, eyes trained through the dark window pane on her right and then back at him with an even deeper color, "So, umm… think I'm ready to go—go back to yours I mean."

"Bake some fresh danishes, right? Or?" Carmy smirks, feeling oddly confident.

A coy little smile hitches up on one side of her face, "Or, maybe danishes if you're lucky."

"First time… starting to think I might be."

Lucky… yeah.

AO3 Link: HERE

[theladybarnes]

CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER SEVEN

“What if I'm not good? What if I'm the monster?”

▸ summary: things get messy between the group and you feel as if you’re out of luck (&time) ▸ characters: steve harrington, eddie munson,dustin henderson, robin buckley, max mayfield, & nancy wheeler ▸ word count: 10k ▸ warnings: angst, semi-fluff, mentions of death, slight canon divergence ▸ series masterlist

“I guess the old man taught me well, huh?”

 The sudden weight of falling down into the cold street hit you harder than you expected. Forcing you to reach out and grip onto the blue car behind you. Wait, you know this car. 

 “What?..” you whispered, taking a step back. It was Billy’s blue Camaro, still warm from being recently used. But you weren’t anywhere near his car– Your thoughts are cut off when you suddenly take in your dim reflection from the car window. 

 The entirety of your right eye was black and teary. Instead of being trapped in the mall again, you’re suddenly back from having just left the tunnels that had run beneath Hawkins. But if you're by Billy’s car then..

 Turning around, you nearly gasped at the sight of Billy. He’s healthier than the last time you saw him. No Flayer tentacles stuck in his chest. No dead look in his eyes. He was back to the regular asshole you knew before. The sight of his former appearance has you taken back. 

 “Billy..” you croaked, unsure what to say. “I-...”

 “She’s speechless.” Billy laughed, taking a step towards you. “What a nice change.”

 Every part of you is aware that this isn’t real, but seeing him before you is leaving your mind puzzled. “You should go inside, Billy.” you got out eventually, gesturing toward his home, but the moment you glanced over, you noticed it was gone. The land stripped down to just the gutted floor of the house. Only the lawn had been laid intact. 

 “I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t have anything.” he said slowly, voice dark as he inched closer. You tried to step back, but something about his tone had your feet frozen in place. He took the chance to stand behind you now, wrapping his arms around you in order to pull you close. 

 He was ice cold.

 “All because of you..” he said into your ear, tickling your skin with his cold breath. 

 “I didn’t..I didn’t do anything to you, Billy.”

 “Exactly,” he agreed. “You didn’t help me..you didn’t save me. You let me die, you let the flayer get me.” 

 His grip got tighter, causing you to wince out in pain. You had to get out of this. “Let me go.” you said calmly despite the chill that was now coming up your spine. “Billy, let me GO.”

 “It’s sad when you consider what’s happened,” he continued on, pressing his face against the side of yours. “Billy said that he loved you, tried to get back together with you, and you left him in the dust for a guy that wouldn’t even consider leaving town for you.” 

 There were so many alarms going off in your head but you couldn’t help but focus on one in particular. 

 “Billy? You mean yourself, right?” you asked, trying to turn your face to look at him. But he simply reached one of his cold arms up to pinch at your cheeks, forcing you to look at the empty lot in front of you. 

 “No one is ever going to pick you, you know? At the end of the day it’ll always be someone better, someone worth sticking around you. There’s no happy ending for you.” His lips ghosted around the base of your neck before he chuckled lightly against you. “No happy ending for us..”

 You shook your head, trying to get his daunting words out of your head. “I’m nothing like you..”

 That only made him even more amused, raising a laugh out of his chest. “We’re a lot alike, actually.” he hummed, “We use people for pleasure and toss them aside when they decide to go against what we want.”

 “I don’t do that.” you said, turning around enough to face him. He looked at you with a smirk before he pinched at your cheek. “I would never do that to anyone.” you added, swatting his hand away.

 “So you didn’t dump Steve for saying no to the big move?” he gasped, feigning shock. “Or better yet, you’re not ditching your poor Eddie after he left you alone to wander the forest? I mean, you didn’t even bother to let him speak. He’s probably beating himself up but you don’t care. Not when Stevie is giving you the ol’ love and attention you need. Which, let’s be honest, babydoll, is pretty shitty of you to use him for a quick fuck instead of talking things out. Thought that’s the sort of shit girls like to do.”

 His words cut through you like knives, dredging up thoughts you tried to bury deep down. But then, something shifted. Billy mentioned Eddie, someone he couldn't possibly have known about. Their paths never crossed once if you thought hard about it. 

 "You don't know Eddie," you said slowly, voice struggling between sounding calm and trembling. "How could you possibly know what I’ve done with him if you’re dead..”

 A sinister smile twisted Billy's lips as his grip tightened, sending searing pain coursing through your body. "He’s been watching you," he confessed, his voice dripping with malice. "And boy does he have plans for all of you..”

 The world around you began to fall apart. The dark sky falling apart like fabric unraveling to reveal a dark crimson sky. The distance etched with bursts of lightning to light up a world in an ominous glow. 

 “This isn’t happening..” you promised yourself, eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to convince yourself that this was just a dream, that none of it was real.

 “Oh babydoll, did you still think this was just a dream?” (tick)

 The arms around you felt different, and you opened your eyes in time to see Billy back to looking like the night of mall fire. His eyes glistened with tears and smile oozed with the dark bloody liquid that seeped from all over his wounds. 

 “Time for a wake up call.” (tock)

 Before you could react, he shoved you with a force that sent you crashing to the ground. Landing hard on the unforgiving concrete that shot your body in instant pain. Just as you began to process what had just happened, a deafening roar filled the air.

 To your right, the blinding headlights of an oncoming car came into your vision, hurtling toward you at a terrifying speed. You barely managed to get your hands up to cover your face right as it was about to hit you.

 And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, you woke up.

 Gasping for air, you sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing with adrenaline. Sweat soaked your skin, and a sense of lingering dread clung onto you like a heavy cloak. The warm glowing light of the sun peeked through your curtains. Nothing like the red haunting sky that was in your dream. New day, new nightmare. You thought.

 “Hey, are you awake?” 

 Dustin burst into the room, nearly sending you back into panic mode as you scrambled to get out of the bed. Defensive position ready for the attack. The younger boy held onto the door knob in shock, holding a hand out too in case you were about to strike him.

 “Whoa,” he chuckled nervously, looking at you carefully. “You okay? You’re all sweaty.” 

 You licked over your lips, pushing back the hair away from your face. “I’m fine.” you nodded, trying to calm yourself down. “Just got spooked.”

 “Right,” he said slowly, skeptically, even. “Well, Steve called. Said he was going to head over here if you wanna shower or something before leaving.”

 Turning away from your cousin, you tried to gain some sort of control over yourself as you trudged over to your dresser. Picking out some clothes you could change into after your shower. But from behind you could feel Dustin lingering at the door, a familiar worry still in the air.

 “I’m fine, Dustin.” you said, before he could ask. You focused on the clothes before you gathered for your shower. “It was just a bad sleep.” 

 “You sure? Because..we’d all get if it you needed a day to jump back into–”

 “I said I’m fine!” you snapped, turning around finally. The glare on your face is enough to have him take a step back. As if your words were a slap to his face. Guilt quickly filled into your gut and you rubbed a hand over your tired face. “I’m sorry I’m just tired.”

 “I get it.” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be in the living room.”

 Without another word, he turned on his heels and made his exit. Not two minutes into the day and you were already messing things up again. 

 “Time for a wake up call.” 

 You shuddered at the words that repeated in your head and quickly left the room. Hoping for the shower to wash away the remnants of your latest nightmare and give you a chance to start the day fresh.

 The car ride to the supermarket was spent mostly with Dustin yammering to Steve about the plans for today while you sat quietly in the back. The nightmare that pulled you out of your sleep still left you frazzled. Even with the help of a hot shower that tried to wash away the haunting memory. So while Steve kept checking over you now and then, you managed to keep to yourself until you guys arrived at the market. 

 Instantly Dustin wandered off in search of snacks for Eddie once inside. Leaving you and Steve to navigate the supermarket aisles together as a small awkward tension lingered in the air. You focused on gathering supplies, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of what would be enough to last Eddie for the unforeseeable future. 

 "Hey," Steve's voice broke through the silence, causing you to glance up from the decorated can of the Smurf’s Beef Ravioli you were inspecting. His curious gaze met yours, and you couldn't help but notice the worry etched into his features.

 "You look exhausted," he remarked softly, his tone filled with genuine concern.

 You wanted to sigh. 

 Of course Steve would be the first one today to distinctly look past all the makeup you expertly applied this morning to notice the exhaustion you were feeling. After the harsh nightmare, the bags in your eyes seemed to take a permanent residence. Offering a weary smile, you attempted to brush past his observation in order to change the mood. “Is that your subtle way of saying I look terrible?” 

 His eyes widened, worried for a second that you were being serious. “Of course not!” he scoffed, moving closer to you. “You’re gorgeous..but I can tell you look exhausted.” 

 You watched him carefully, waiting to see if he’d crack from the line of questioning, but when he tilted his head at you, keeping a worried gaze, you let out the withheld sigh, giving in a little bit. “I had a pretty harsh nightmare, don’t think I really slept well the whole night.”

 The palm of his hand met your cheek gently. Thumb rubbing against the soft skin before he reached over to push a piece of hair away from your face. "That bad, huh?" he murmured, looking at your features. "Why don't you let me stay over tonight? Just a friendly sleepover. You can wake me up if things get too intense."

 You couldn't help but chuckle at his offer. Recalling the past summer filled with nights of him on the pretense of just sleeping. "A sleepover, really? With just the two of us?"

 He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's not like it's the first time I've slept over at your place."

 You raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a teasing grin from tugging on your face. “Well, if I recall correctly, we didn’t really sleep at those either.”

 A faint blush crept up Steve's cheeks, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, fair point," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. "But seriously, I just want to help. You don't have to go through this alone."

 It would be so easy to say yes. Give in to that natural urge that always wanted the company of the man before you. To have him by your side and give you all the attention and care you know he would willingly give to you. But your nightmare played in your mind again and you couldn’t help but feel the familiar twist of guilt form in your stomach again. 

 You opened your mouth to decline the offer when a case of YooHoos was placed quickly into the cart. An out of breath Dustin wiped over the sweat from his forehead, looking between the two of you expectantly. “It’s almost ten and we still have to pick up the others. Let’s go.” 

 Steve looked over still waiting on an answer from you but all you could do is offer a meek smile. “All right,” you nodded to Dustin. “Let’s head out.” Without looking back, you made your way towards the registers. Stomach twisting more than ever now.

 Thankfully picking up Robin and Max turned out to be quicker than expected. Max had taken the bus to the other girl’s house, making the trips cut down less after Dustin explained you’d also have to make a stop at the hilltop to use his Cerebro. And after some unsettling updates from the Hawkins police department, you all were able to finally make the drive over to the Lipton boat house.

 A part of you was slightly nervous to face Eddie again after yesterday. You never really felt the best after chewing out people you cared about. But add the hurt from the day before, plus the predicament with Steve, and the newest bit of information, your body was slowly aching in all sorts of places as you tried to navigate each feeling.

 “The streets should be busy today, most of Hawkins are probably over their hangovers from  Friday and have to go back to shopping for the week. We’ll have time to look for clues around the trailer later.” you heard Dustin say to everyone as he and Max took the lead towards the boat house. 

 “God,” you said suddenly, stopping in place. The days quickly calculated in your mind and you couldn’t help but feel another worry. Robin and Steve both turned at your voice, looking at you curiously before you wiped your hands over your face. “I was supposed to work with Keith today..”

 The two of them looked at each other for a second before letting out amused chuckles. 

 “What’s so funny?” you frowned.

 “Honey, Robin and I closed up the store at seven o’clock last night so we could all go find Eddie.” Steve cleared up.

 “Not to mention Steve was gone a whole hour before that to go find you.” she snorted, trudging over with the groceries still in hand as she draped an arm over your shoulder. “We’re totally fired.”

 “Fired?” you gaped, slightly worried by how easily over it they seemed to be. “B-but you guys needed the jobs!”

 “There’s thousands of other part time jobs in Hawkins, kid.” Robin sighed, giving you a tight lipped smile. “We’ll just have to update our resumes..again.”

 She left with that, leaving the two of you behind to join the others down the hill. Glancing at Steve, you opened your mouth, ready to apologize about his likely termination, but he quickly leaned over to press a finger to your lips.

 “Don’t even think about apologizing.” he said sternly. “Because no one in the whole world could have stopped me from leaving. Not when it comes to you.”

 Again, you’re left speechless by the man before you. 

 There couldn’t be any proper explanation as to why Steve continuously gave you more than you deserved. Not one that you would believe in anyway. You’ve hurt him, pushed him, and left him with no reason to do things for you. And off he’d go, ditching his life’s responsibilities just to look out for your well being. 

 It’s all so overwhelming and you find you’re stumped enough that it’s taking a second longer to think of a reply.

 “Trouble..” he said after a second of your silence. 

 You quickly scrambled together a response good enough to divert the seriousness that he seemed to be leading things to lately. Something you know he’ll grow tired of eventually and confront you about. But for now, you’d stick with easing the already harsh day as best as you could.

 “I was just going to say I’m glad we won’t have to wear that vest anymore.”

 “Right.” he said, sucking in a sharp breath. Then suddenly, he leaned over enough that he could look at your face closely. “Are you..okay?” 

Okay seemed to be the last word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially after this morning’s nightmare. But considering the man lost his job to help you out the last time, you figure you should cut this worrisome question short. 

“I have a lot on my mind.” You shrugged. “Just..girl problems.”

His brows were knitted tightly together, skeptical of your response. But before he could throw in a follow up question, the sound of Robin calling out to you guys put a stop to that.  

“We should go..” he said eventually.

 Not wanting to lag behind any longer, you dashed down the hill to the others, catching a glance back to see Steve rub at his face until he remembered to follow after you. The two of you joined just in time to open the door into the boat house. 

 There’s a slightly yelp sound and the five of you watched as a frightened Eddie looked over at the doorway with wide eyes. Apparently he didn’t notice or hear any of you approaching at all. 

 “Delivery service!” Dustin exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he lifted up the grocery bags. 

 Apparently, you weren’t the only one whose morning was off to a rough start.

  The five of you gathered around Eddie, giving him a few minutes to calm down. But that calmness quickly left the moment Dustin gave him the box of Honeycomb. All there was after that was the crazy amount of crunching as Eddie stuffed as many as he could into his mouth. 

 “So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news.” Dustin started hesitantly. “How do you prefer it?”

 “Bad news first, always.” Eddie said as if there’d be any other way.

 “All right, bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you.” he said before blinking hard, forgetting the last important fact. “Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

 “Like, one hundred percent kind of convinced.” Max said next, looking at him solemnly.

 “And the good news?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

 Robin looked down at him with a familiar gaze to Max’s as she spoke up next. “Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s a matter of time before others do too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning out for you.”

 You can’t help but feel worse hearing everyone lay out the information than from the dispatch. From where you stood behind Dustin, you could see as Eddie’s face paled at the truth. 

 “Hunt the freak, right?”

 “Exactly.” Robin confirmed.

 The memory of the crash came to mind from his words. Freak of the town. Now it was going to be a man hunt with him as the prey. Dustin before you held a hand out, piping in with what he figured would be words of encouragement. 

 “So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

 “That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” 

 “Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it.”

 You can’t help but snort at Dustin’s reply. Feeling the pessimism seeping into your mood. There were too many variables to this idea that made it almost impossible to complete. And while you didn’t want to join in on adding salt to Eddie’s wounds, you couldn’t help but shake your head.

 “And after all this we’ll have you back home in time for dinner.” you said offhandedly, keeping your eyes down at your nails. Steve and Dustin turned their gazes over their shoulders to look over at you questionably, making you sheepishly wave them off as you stepped closer towards the group. 

 “Listen, Eddie,” piped Robin as she attempted to lift up his spirits. “I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this before. I mean, they have a..a few times,” she said gesturing to the three of you. Steve confirmed her words with a reassuring nod as she went on. “And..and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based, and theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.” 

 “Yeah, see, we usually rely on this girl who has super powers. But, uh, those went bye-bye, so uh..” Steve said quickly, adding a true fact that you felt didn’t really help much considering El wasn’t even in town in the first place. 

 “So, we’re technically in more of the–” Robin volleyed in.

 “Kinda..”

 “Brainstorming phase.” Max finished, seeming to conclude where Robin and Steve were going with their words.

 “There..There’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin spluttered, attempting to bring the group in together. 

 Eddie was rightfully stunned at everyone, tilting his head in shock as he stared at his friend in disbelief. But he’s soon after glancing over to you finally. Looking for what you had to say. In fact, everyone glanced over at you, almost waiting for you to say otherwise.

 And while you parents always said they admired your candor, not everyone around you reacted the best to it. 

 So, you shot him a small tight lipped smile, nodding your head to everyone. “We’re gonna help you, Ed.” you said honestly. “Just..hopefully without any more..complications.” 

 As if the universe was waiting for their cue, the sounds of sirens cut through the silence of the group. Grabbing all the attention off of you as everyone quickly reacted to the new possible threat. 

 “Tarp.” Robin pointed out. “Tarp!” 

 Eddie quickly concealed himself underneath the fabric while the rest of you dashed over to the windows. Peering out through the dirty glass in time to watch as police cars and ambulances zipped past the front of the house. 

 “Where the hell are they going?” you heard Dustin mutter under his breath. His gaze shifted up to you curiously. 

 “I don’t know, but we need to go find out.”

As the group dispersed from the boat house, you felt a hand gently grab at your arm, halting your exit. Turning around, you found Eddie out from the safety of his tarp. Looking at you with remorse in his eyes. You could practically feel how nervous he was. 

 "Hey," he began softly, "I need to talk to you for a sec."

 Sensing where this conversation was going to go, you almost wanted to reject him. You weren’t sure how many tense conversations you could handle for the day. But seeing as you weren’t certain of when you’d actually see Eddie again, you nodded your head and stayed in place.

 "I wanted to apologize," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "For that shit back at the van, the woods, all of it. I know it was messed up,..I never meant for any of that to happen."

 His words stirred conflicting emotions within you. Anger, frustration, but also a bit of understanding. 

 At this point, you knew Eddie. He was the same guy who’d get annoyed with your lectures about his fashion taste, or who’d try and kiss you whenever you had a bad day at work, and who would bring out that ridiculous Mick Jagger impression that made you laugh before the first bell rang. He was impulsive, but never malicious. 

 Still, the wounds still lingered inside of you. 

 "I was terrified, Eddie," you admitted, voice barely rising above a whisper despite the anger behind it. "Being lost in those woods...I had no idea where I was going or what was around me. I just saw Chrissy die and woke up to a world of mess."

 His expression softened, and you could see the heavy remorse returned back to his features. "I'm so sorry, Princess.” he croaked, hands reached out to grip onto your arms. “I promise I'll make it up to you, however I can. I won't let you down again."

 You pushed away remaining doubt that wanted to linger behind. Wanting to believe that there were still ways to turn things around. At least in terms of your friendship with Eddie. He was there for you through your shitty moments, it was time you took your turn in being there for him. 

 In this case, his moment being a murder case. 

 “Well, let’s make a habit out of not ditching each other in the woods then.” you said finally. 

 He snorted excitedly, chuckling a bit at your reaction before he pulled you in a tight hug that had you patting his back just to calm him down. “Sounds reasonable to me.” 

 “Good.” you laughed, giving him a final pat to release you out of his tight hold. “Uhh, Eddie? Kinda need to go work on saving your ass now.” 

 “Sorry,” he muttered, loosening up his grip. “I was just kinda worried we’d stop being friends..”

 You pulled back to look up at him, searching his eyes for a moment before you nodded your head. “We’re still friends..”

 “Good, because now that we’re square again, I really gotta say, you look like shit.” 

 “What is it with you guys today? I mean, I am tired, but seriously what the fu–” your words are cut off when Eddie leaned in to press his lips against yours. It wasn’t the most unusual reaction from him. There had been many times he’d say something to annoy you and cut off your anger with a sloppy kiss. But at the current time you couldn’t help but think about the last kiss you had from a freakout. And many other things you did with the man who gave it to you.

 "Eddie, I..." you trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain the complexity of problems you had going on. Especially the ones in your love life.

 He quickly retreated, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

 Suddenly, a throat cleared from behind, cutting into the moment. Instantly your heart plummeted as you turned to see Steve standing under the threshold of the door. Expression unreadable. How much did he see? How much did he hear?

 "We’re ready to go," he stated curtly, avoiding your gaze. “If you two are done.”

 Without waiting for you to reply, he quickly turned and left the doorway to join the others back up where the car was. You let out a tired sigh, unsure how you were going to even explain anything of what he just witnessed. All you knew was this was slowly turning from a bad morning to a crappy day.

 “Did I just make things worse?” you heard Eddie chuckle behind you.

 “No, Ed, I think I did.”

 Despite the awkwardness of your late entrance to the car, the group made it just in time to catch the location of where the cops were heading to. It was towards the main road that led over to Forest Hills.

 Everyone slowly began to murmur out curious questions as to what it could be. Chrissy’s body had already been covered, what could have happened in just a day?

 The car came to a slow stop and the group slowly made an exit out of the car. Looking around what looked like a scene of a crime. Amongst the cars surrounding the area was one that caught your attention quickly. Coroner. But before you could mention that, the sight of a brightly colored skirt caught your attention.

 Talking close to the newly appointed Sheriff Powell stood Nancy. 

 You stepped out on the road, ready to make your way over to join her when a hand tugged on your elbow. Steve, who despite still held some difference towards you since the boathouse, did not want you going forward. Only cocking his chin in the direction of the girl.

 She looked relieved to see you guys but you could tell from the furrow in her brow that she was more than upset. Looking close to crying. Still, she held up a weak hand, waving over at the group with a pained expression. 

 “Shit.” you heard Max whisper. She pointed over towards the side of the road. On the floor, just past your friend, was another body, covered up in a white sheet.

 Vecna’s second victim.

 Picking at your nails had seemed to be a new habit of yours now. Previously used to keep you busy from conversations slowly turned into you using it to distract yourself from the reality of things. Like right now, as the group gathered around one of the lunch tables just outside of Eddie’s trailer, listening to Nancy explain what the police had found, you were currently tearing at the side of your hangnail.

 Fred was gone. Just the same as Chrissy. Meaning that Dustin was right about this not being the last of Vecna’s attacks. But the idea of it being people you all knew seemed to make this whole thing more sickening.

It was eerie to be back in the trailer park. You made it a point to sit at the side of the table facing the Munson home. Needing to keep your eyes locked on the place again in case of anything odd happening. At one point you felt a hand slowly pat over at your leg, making you jump a bit before glancing to your left.

 Steve stared at you expectantly before he shook his head in confusion. “You with us?” he asked softly, voice with the familiar tinge of worry. 

 Nodding your head, you tucked your hands down into your lap, looking at the three girls across from you. 

 “So, you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?”

 “If the shoe fits,” Steve said simply before he looked at you again. “Right?”

 “Well, considering the lights blinked like usual before the attack happened. I’d say yes.”

 “Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse.” Dustin added. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

 “All we know is that this is something different.” Max joined in, a frown etched on her face as she glanced amongst everyone. “Something new.”

 “Doesn’t make sense.” Nancy muttered, shaking her head. 

 You reached over to place a hand towards her, gaining her attention to you. “Has anything about the Upside Down ever made sense?” you asked honestly, “Besides, this is still a work in progress.”

 “She’s right, it’s only a theory.” Dustin said after you. 

 “No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense.” Nancy explained, putting together something in her head. “I mean, why them?”

 “Maybe they were just in the wrong place. “ Dustin tried. “They were both at the game.”

 Max nodded her head, following the pieces coming together. “And near the trailer park.”

 “We’re at the trailer park.” Steve pointed out slowly. “Uhh, should we maybe not be here?”

 You sucked in a slow breath before leaning back to look around the area. It looked the same as when you’d come to visit Eddie. Max’s trailer was still just across the way, and the sound of wind chimes still echoed in the distance. But one glance back to the Munson trailer and you felt your stomach dip. 

“There is something about this place.” Nancy said after a second. “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

 Robin looked over at Nancy curiously.  “Acting weird as in..?”

 “Scared, on edge, upset.”

 It completely bothered you how similar you felt to that right now. But you could practically feel worried glances from some of the people at the table, so you bottled down speaking up on that in favor of hearing what Dustin had to say next.

 “Max said Chrissy was upset too.” 

 “Yeah, but not here.” she shook her head. “She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

 For a second you couldn’t help but feel a twist in your stomach at the idea of Chrissy. She was so nice in the van that night. Wanting to take the special K just to get through the night without feeling overwhelmed. But her troubles were vastly bigger than she laid out for you and you couldn’t help but feel bad for not reaching out more when you had the chance. 

 “Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?” Robin asked, cutting into silence. “So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman–”

 “Vecna.” Dustin quickly corrected.

 “I don’t know about you guys but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.” Steve said. His eyes looked to you, almost like he was expecting you to agree with him. And while the logical side of you did, something deep inside was stopping you entirely from speaking out. 

 “Maybe they did.” Max considered slowly. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you..you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you. But you might go to your–”

 “Your shrink.” Robin concluded. 

 The idea of Fred and Chrissy having a connection through Ms. Kelley did little to ease your growing anxiety. Especially when you remembered that amongst the few students that happened to be stuck in her counseling sessions, was you.

  Not wanting to waste the day, the group quickly left the bench to head over to the next destination. Hopefully Max could find her way into getting out some information about the others from Ms. Kelley. 

 You’re walking close beside Nancy when she elbowed your side, raising a brow to you before nodding towards the direction of her car. You almost wanted to ask her what she had meant when she gave you a familiar look. Quickly getting the hint that she had something else in mind, you casually turned towards the car. That is until the group’s den mother seemed to take notice.

 “Whoa, whoa, HEY! HEY!” Steve said, jogging after the two of you. “Where are you guys going?”

 “Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” she explained simply, nudging at your side quickly. 

 “I’m gonna go with her, you know Nancy Drew needs Bess Marvin and all that.” you waved, trying to make a turn for the car again.

 “Something you guys wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin asked, slightly offended.

 “I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.” she said shyly, kicking at the dirt for a second. You nodded your head, looking over at the rest of the group with a small smile.

 “If she’s got a hunch, it might be worth checking out guys. We’ll be back soon.” you reassured them.

 “Hey, you can’t just ditch us.” Dustin scoffed. “Besides, it’s better to keep an eye on you if you’re suddenly turned into a suspect and we need to hide you up with Eddie.”

 Max looked over at Dustin before she nodded her head, agreeing. “There’s still a chance your name could come up. If we can’t reach you then we wouldn’t be able to help you on time.”

 Something told you that there might be another reason Dustin and Max wanted you to stay and while you were sure nothing would happen while going with Nancy, you also didn’t want to make things harder on anyone. Especially with these two out of all them showing concern openly.

 “Looks like I’m with the kids.” you sighed, turning defeatedly to Nancy. “Think you’ll be okay?”

 “I’ll be an hour or two tops.” she nodded. “We’ll regroup after that.”

 “Yeah okay. Are you guys out of your mind?” Steve asked, looking at you two a little perplexed. “Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, it’s too dangerous. You need..you need someone to..” His face turned hard with a sudden frustration as he looked at Nancy worriedly. Your stomach caught onto that tension quicker than your brain and twisted slightly at a growing feeling you haven’t felt in a while. Steve didn’t seem to notice as he turned to toss his keys over to Robin.

 “Here you go. I’ll stick with Nance.” he said quickly. “You guys take the car, check out the shrink.”

 The girl caught the keys awkwardly, giving Steve a confused look as she pointed over to the car. “Don’t think you want me driving your car.” she said wearily. 

 “Didn’t think he let anyone drive the car.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time he nearly had a heart attack and that was just driving in the streets.”

 Steve blinked over at you confused before he turned back to Robin. “Why?” he asked, ignoring your jab. 

 “I don’t have a license.”

 “Why don’t you have a license?” he asked frustratedly. 

 “I’m poor.” she reasoned with a shrug. 

 “I can drive.” Max offered, only adding fuel to Steve’s emotions. 

 “No, No! Never again. Please. Anybody but you. NO.” he argued.

 Dustin, ever with his perfect timing, looked at Steve with his arms out. As if he were ready to take on the responsibility that no one on the team could take. From behind Steve you could see as his body deflated at his choices. 

 “No chance.”

 “Come on!”

 Nancy looked a little uncomfortable at Steve’s persistence, only casting you an apologetic look. You on the other hand could not stop the familiar green monster from trying to crawl its way up from the depths of your soul. Unsure where Steve’s need to be around Nancy came from just yet. But you knew by now that it wasn’t the best idea to act on those feelings just yet.

 Finally Steve glanced back to you, raising a brow questionably. 

 Bastard.

 “Fine,” you said calmly, earning a small shock from the group. As if they expected some other reaction from you. Taking a step towards him, you held out your hand, giving Steve a sweet smile. “I’ll take your car.” 

 Steve nervously licked over his lips. Eyes shifting from your hand, then to Nancy, and then back at you. “No,” he gulped, shaking his head lightly. “I sense I made a mistake of some kind.”

 Fed up with everything, Robin reached for the walkie in Dustin’s bag and stepped in. “All right, okay. This is stupid. Us ladies will stick together.” she confirmed, putting the keys back into Steve’s hands. Her eyes gave him a warning look before she marched over to join Nancy’s side. “Unless you think we need you to protect us?” she said with a humorous chuckle.

 The two of you didn’t move from your spot. Only watching as Robin made her way towards Nancy’s car. Taking the lead for their exit. Nancy gave you both a sympathetic shrug before she mouthed an apology to you before turning on her heels to catch up with the other girl.

 “Be careful!” he called out, Robin turned around, shooting out a peace sign before she glanced at you. 

 “Should be saying that to yourself!” she laughed, giving you a wink.

 From the corner of your eye you can feel as Steve nervously looked over at you. His previous annoyance went away when he noticed your change in demeanor. Without another thought you walked towards his car, avoiding his gaze as you made your way towards the car doors. He quickly rushed over, moving to open up the passenger door for you, a small tight lip smile on his face.

 Ignoring that offer, you carefully opened up the backseat and slipped in beside Max. Avoiding his gaze as you slammed the door shut. From the outside you could hear Dustin chortle at his friend as he moved to take the free spot. “Nice one,” he said to Steve. “You just gonna stand there and gawk?”

 “Dude, shut up.”

 “Why don’t we go? Okay?” he said teasingly.

 “Shut up and get in the car.” he ordered. “Wipe your feet.”

 You watched as Dustin carelessly began to wipe his feet inside the car. Almost comically as he patted the shoe against the clean interior floor, earning another explosive reaction from Steve. 

 “On the outside, not the inside!”

 There was a bit more huffing between the two as they finally got into their seats. Leaving the car in a second of silence. Steve glanced back at you, opening his mouth to say something. But instead of giving him the chance to say anything, you turned in your seat, facing your direction to look out the window. Giving you the chance to give him a bit of the silent treatment. 

 “Always the babysitter.” Steve muttered angrily, turning on the engine of the car. “Always the GODDAMN babysitter!”

 You watched carefully from your side of the car as Max entered inside Ms. Kelley’s home. Only looking back at you guys once before the door closed up behind her. Hopefully the whole thing wouldn’t take as long and the four of you could make your way back to others and give you space away from Steve. 

 “So..we gonna talk about..it?”

 Glancing to your right, you looked into the passenger mirror to find Dustin looking at Steve. He seemed to have purposely left his window open enough that you were able to eavesdrop into their conversation. 

 “Huh? Sorry, talk about what?” Steve asked, barely paying attention.

 “Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance? And in front of my cousin of all people.”

 It took everything in you not to react to what you just heard. Your cousin’s words basically confirm the worries that hit you in the trailer park. The little green monster inside was practically dancing as it festered on the negative energy building up inside of you. 

 “Okay, first of all, that’s not what happened.” Steve said defensively. 

 “Pretty sure that’s what happened.” he countered. “It was public, there were like, a lot of witnesses. The prime one being at the back of your car right now.”

 He made it a point to glance at you through the mirror, catching your glaring gaze. He looked like he was about to change things up from his expression but you quickly shook your head, nodding in the direction of Steve’s side of the car for him to continue. 

 “Uh-Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance? Really? Me?”

 “No, I’m not implying.” he said, shaking his head. “I’m stating. And, as it relates to your current break up leaving you to go on various dates, it’s pretty much the only logical explanation.”

“That’s not the only one.” Steve denied quickly. “You know what I’ve been going through. What I’ve been thinking. And as for Nance, I was just trying to protect a friend.”

 From the mirror you could see Dustin’s face turned amused, like he was beyond believing that statement in the slightest way. You let out a small sigh, glancing down at the ground almost..defeatedly.

 This wasn’t even something you had the right to be angry about. If anything, the only reason you had room to speak on the situation was the fact that Nancy was currently dating your best friend and you couldn’t just let Steve of all people step in on that.

 God, that thought alone made you feel sick.

 “A friend, Henderson. Okay?” Steve said after noticing Dustin’s silence. 

 “Okay.”

 “I don’t wanna find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out of the front of her skull by this Vecna creep.”

 Dustin let out an amused giggle. “You’re bright red in the face right now!”

 Not having it in your stomach to listen to anything else, you stomped away from the car. Trying not to let the stinging tears in your eyes slip out. Your mind viciously shoots you into a memory from the first fall when Billy arrived. His terrorizing had slowly come to an end that night but not without some parting words to you.

 “He’ll never get over Wheeler. It’s that first love shit that chicks are so keen for. He’ll never get away from that feeling. Trust me, I’d know.”

 Back then you convinced yourself that he wasn’t telling the truth. That he took your weakness that night to try and get under your skin. But now? Now your mind is so frazzled and so broken lately that everything is turning into doubt. 

 “Get in the car.”

 You turned around to find Max rushing over to the car door, giving you a wide look before she entered inside. Quickly, you joined in after her, closing up the door in time to catch her giving Steve an order to drive. He’s quick to start up the car, setting all of you to hit against the seats as he sped away from the house.

 Eventually Max briefly explained what happened inside and stated that the best way to get more information would be in Ms. Kelley’s office at the school. You tried to explain it’d be a lot harder to break in due to the break but she simply held up a pair of office keys. 

 Suddenly the walkie in Dustin’s lap let out a loud squawk before a voice suddenly spoke through.

 “Dustin. It’s Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin.”

 The sudden sound of your friend’s voice had you and Max quickly leaning over your seats, trying to listen in on the incoming message. 

 “Lucas? Where the hell have you been?” Dustin asked into the walkie. 

 “Just listen.” Lucas pleaded. “Are you guys looking for Eddie?”

 “Yeah and we found him, no thanks to you.” he chided back. 

 “You found him?”

 “He’s at a boathouse on Coal Mill Road. Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

 “You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?” Lucas asked worriedly. The car seemed to grow tense at that. Now the teens at the school surely knew he was the main suspect. Time was beginning to run out. 

 “That’s bullshit. Eddie tried to save Chrissy. My cousin was there!”

 “She was there too?! Wait, then why do all the cops say he did it?”

 Max, having had enough, reached over for the walkie. “Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous, okay? Just meet us at the school. We’ll explain later.”

 “I..I can’t. I think some real bad shit’s about to go down.”

 “What are you talking about? What bad shit?” she asked, but there was no response back. Almost as if the connection was lost. “Lucas? Lucas?” 

 “Line got cut off.” Dustin said, reaching back for the walkie. “What do you think he meant?”

 “I’m not sure.” Steve said, gripping the wheel tightly. “Let’s just get to the school.”

  It was dark by the time the four of you arrived at Hawkins. The air held an eerie atmosphere as you guys parked discreetly in the back of the school. Couldn’t exactly have anyone checking by to see there was someone at the school this time of night.

Your cousin was thankfully prepared for the night again and quickly passed around a couple of flashlights, giving you guys some light to venture through the creepy halls with. 

 “I gotta say, didn’t think I’d be coming back here anytime soon.” Steve muttered to you, smacking at the side of his flashlight before it fully turned on. 

 “It’s definitely not the way I wanted to spend my Spring Break.” you nodded, flashing towards one of the classrooms. 

 There’s an awkward building tension between the two of you. A part of you wanted to squash down that anger from before, use it to keep focus on the problems at hand. But there was a bigger part inside that was gleefully ready to make a mess out of things. 

Per usual.

 “Didn’t think I’d spend the day like this.” he chuckled lightly, looking over at you. “Kind of a bad way to end the weekend don’t you think?”

 Something in his words, while innocent, just irked you. Making your whole body shift as you finally let free some of the venom that had been building up since the trailer park. 

 “Yeah, you must be having a pretty bad day considering you’re stuck babysitting with me instead of chumming it up with Robin or looking out for Nancy.”

 Steve looked almost as if your words were a slap to the face, staggering back a second before his expression quickly changed to annoyance. He reached a hand out to stop you from walking. 

 “Where’s that coming from?” he asked slowly.

 “Seriously?” you laughed, raising a brow at him. “Did you suddenly forget that little show you gave back in Forest Hills?” You made an effort to dramatically reenact tossing invisible car keys. “Here you go. I’ll stick with Nance.” you said in a dramatically deep voice. 

 He was unamused by that, pressing his lips together before he scratched at his hair. A nervous tick he got whenever something got under his skin. “I’m sorry I’m a little particular with who I hang out with at the moment. I figured you’d feel the same way considering you probably wanted to stick around with Eddie so you guys could make out and weirdly flirt again.” 

 Sometimes you forget that Steve’s as much of a former bitch as you were. Making his bite hurt particularly bad right now. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a verbal fight. 

 “Wow, I’m not really surprised you noticed everything I’m doing considering how you’ve been trying to figure out ways to keep me at home.” Tilting your head you step closer to look up at Steve. “Was worrying about me too much for you now that you want to display your macho-man persona to Nancy again?” 

 “You’re pulling that out of nowhere.” he scoffed, shaking his head at you. “I mean, really, how is me wanting you to stay home because I’m worried about how tired you look, suddenly turn into me trying to get back with Nancy?”

 “Oh, so now it’s suddenly trying get back with Nancy?”

 “No, you just said–”

 “I said you were showing off!” 

 He let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before he turned to look at you seriously. “All I offered was to go with Nancy so that she wasn’t alone. Her friend just died the same way Chrissy did and I didn’t want her to end up the same way. I was just trying to be a comforting friend.”

 “So you wanted to comfort her? Well, that’s great to hear considering we both know how you like to comfort people through their crisis, don’t we?”

 “I-It was different with you, okay?” He stuttered a bit, before he held his hands up, looking annoyed again. “You’re the one who is kissing some other guy and it’s me that’s trying to get with someone?”

 “As always, you always take one part of the picture to paint the story, your highness.” you sighed, pushing a hair out of your face. “But don’t worry, I’m sure Robin will put in a good word for you with Nancy since you’re so keen on chivalry.”

 “That’s not fair. That is not what I want.” he spat. “Look, I know that you two have a thing okay? I’m not going to step in on it but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice about it either. So, quit using the friendly friendship I have with Nance to compare your beneficial one with Eddie.”

 “There isn't a thing. God, Steve.” you frowned. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Eddie kissed me. I didn’t ask him to, nor to hold me, or anything. He’s just a friend..and I pulled back.”

 “That’s not the only thing you two have done, quit acting like it’s just some innocent friendship.”

 “If you can’t seem to remember, the only person around here that I’ve willingly done anything with in the past twenty-four hours, is you, so..” you said as a matter of fact. “Also I think it’s unfair that you get mad at Eddie for kissing me but quickly go around to play the brave knight in shining white Adidas to Nance.”

 “They’re Nikes!” he countered weakly. 

 You could only scoff at him in disbelief. “This conversation isn’t going anywhere. I’m sorry I’m not the one you want to be around right now, let’s just leave things at that.” 

 Taking a step to leave him you made an effort to follow after the two kids when Steve reached forward to grip at your arm. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you around. But I know you’re not okay right now. And the more you try and push yourself in this, the more I can tell that something else is bothering you.”

 He’s staring down at you with the familiar look of worry he’s been doing these past few days. Something that would have comforted you the other day, but not with how you were feeling right now.

 “You’re right.” you said softly, reaching up to gently pat at his hand. “There is something bothering me.”

 From the tone of your voice, Steve could easily tell where this was going to go, only giving you a pleading look as he tried to diffuse the comeback you were about to give him.

 “Don’t say it’s me-

 “It’s you.”

 Without a sparing glance, you pushed out of his grip and brushed and brushed past a nosy, lingering, Dustin in order to join Max at the front of the search. Her gaze stayed ahead, looking away from you, but from the corner of your eye you could see as she shook her head. A small smirk on her lips.

 “Well that was really nice.”

 “Oh, shut up.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Like you have any room to talk about niceties.”

 “I don’t?” She asked amusedly. 

 “Well considering your on and off history with Lucas, I’d think it’s fair to say you’re just as good with dealing with exes as I am.” 

 She frowned for a moment, seeming to think it over before she shrugged. “Guess we’re both kinda messed up.” 

 A part of you wanted to argue. Say how she’s wrong and that aside from what was currently going on, you were fine. But considering the dramatic fight you just shared for the two kids, you figured she wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s kinda nice.” you said eventually, nudging her side playfully.

 “It’s nice that we’re messed up?” She chuckled, looking a little taken back. 

 “No,” you hummed lightly, “it’s nice we’re messed up together.” 

 She finally glanced over at you, giving you a weird look before laughing. “You’re so weird.” she said, nudging you back. 

 With that small bit of comfort, the two of you silently led the other boys the rest of the way to Ms. Kelley’s office. 

 The familiar lingering scent of her relaxing lavender candle hit your senses quickly once you entered inside. Which you were thankful for considering the small stress you seemed to be adding onto yourself. You were happy to finally have a moment where all you guys had to do was focus on the clues needed to progress your theories and not your current problems.

 “It’s like a mini-Watergate or something.” Dustin said behind you. “Hawkinsgate.”

 “Wait a second, didn’t those guys get caught?” asked Steve.

 You made your way over towards the desk, looking over the papers laid out neatly at the center of the table while Max peeked through the cabinet for the files. 

 “Holy shit.” she said suddenly.

 “You found it?” Steve asked, as the rest of you gathered around her.

 “Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file. Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too.” Her hand reached back into the cabinet, pulling out one more manila envelope before she turned over to face you. Her eyes focused on you intently as she held the file up in the air. “And so were you.”

 Even with your eyes looking down at your file, you could feel the intense stare from Steve’s eyes. He hasn’t stopped looking at you ever since Max revealed your file to everyone. You couldn’t help but find it all worthless to bring up. To you, it was just your regular file. There was the first meeting recorded, the goals she wanted you to have for the next couple of years. Nothing out of the ordinary until this year. When she began to take notice of your reaction towards Billy’s death.

 “God,” you scoffed, looking down at her words. “Behavioral avoidance? What a load of crap.” 

 You carefully threw the file onto the desk, plopping down in her chair to look over at what Max had been reading across from you. 

 The folder containing Chrissy’s sessions quickly caught your eye. Making you curious to know what the girl truly had been going through before her untimely death. 

 “Can I see Fred’s file?” she asked suddenly. 

 “Yeah,” Steve said, passing the folder over to her. She quickly laid it out before her, flipping through the papers to collect whatever information caught her attention. From the side you could see as Steve carefully tried to reach out for your file. You made it a point to move away from him on the other side of the desk.

 Leaning over, you reached over for Chrissy’s file, looking over the small details listed on her last session. Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares, anxiety, insomnia, trauma.. All things that made sense but..oddly familiar. Moving closer, you peered over to look down at Fred’s notes that Max had stopped at. 

 ..They were almost similar to Chrissy’s.

 But that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. Because if that were the few connecting signs to what made Vecna attack Chrissy and Fred then what did that mean about you? Glancing back at your folder, you pushed through the notes again, trying to figure out if there was anything similar to what was on the other two folders. But there was nothing.

 Only the small note written at the corner of your last session.

 Might benefit if suggested with a group therapy. Perhaps with Max M.  Both suffer from related trauma.

 Related trauma? You thought.

 Glancing up from the papers, you peered over at Max worriedly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she looked a lot like how you felt at the moment. But this couldn’t be right. You never voiced to Ms. Kelley any of these things. You weren’t seeing any weird Vecna monster or dealing with trauma. You were-

 “Perfectly fine?” (tick)

 You felt a cold shiver run down your back and glanced up in the room. Almost expecting to see if anyone else had heard that. There’s a heavy weight suddenly over you and you feel as if the air in the room was slowly being sucked out. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t like the others. You weren’t going through these struggles you weren’t–

 “Going crazy? (tock)

“Max! MAX!” 

 The sounds of Dustin and Steve calling out to Max instantly pulled you out from you haunting thoughts. Before you was a frozen Max, still frozen in place. “Max?” you called out, getting out from your seat to kneel beside her. 

 Steve’s hand rested on your shoulders, concern on his face as he began to breathe heavily. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice uneasy. “What do we do?”

 “She’s just..I don’t know!” you panicked, shaking at her shoulders. “Max, c’mon. Talk to me!” But as you gazed into her vacant eyes, a chilling thought swept right through you. 

 Did you guys just run out of time?

A/N: okay so this chapter is kinda messy. Reader is seriously losing her mind but I promise that trouble is gonna get her head on screwed right soon enough. Maybe after she remembers that Nancy is in love with Jonathan and Steve practically dropped everything to go to her. I blame Vecna tbh. And Billy from the afterlife. 

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