#i don't know why didn't just scrub it out like they do with so many other things but that's not the point

[jedi-hawkins]

Callsign: Omega

post-s3 finale head cannons (spoilers, duh)

Omega, she’s become one of the most famous pilots for the rebellion.

She names her x-wing “Havoc 5” for her brothers

Of course it has their ct numbers written across the back, right behind the cockpit, for they’re always watching her six. She can't see them when she's flying, and frankly doesn't look at the worn numbers there every day, but they're there always.

The belly of her x-wing is covered in tally marks. The blue ones are for each clone she’s helped free, an ohmage to a clone her brother Echo told her about, ARC-5555. The black ones are for every other being she's helped free. And the red ones, those are for the lives that have passed on and become one with the Force.

On part of her landing gear is a blue pawprint.

On her helmet she only has five things painted, a knife, a crosshair, a tooka doll, a handprint, and a pair of goggles.

On the shoulder of her flight suit, she adds another CF 99 patch, just like the one on her jacket.

She goes by callsign “Omega” for she is the last. The end. The final thing her enemies will see, the last thing the Empire will feel as it falls. She is the being that brings an end to the suffering that so many clones have faced as wards of the Empire when she shows up to liberate them. Omega.

Bonus: The first time she returns to Pabu, Hunter immediately notices the nose art she's chosen to paint on her shuttle, the one built from the Marauder's salvage. It's a stark replica of the nose art that once adorned the original ship, back in the Clone Wars. His stomach plummets and he can't even find the words. As his daughter strolls down the ramp, she immediately bursts into laughter at the look on his face.

Her brothers, Crosshair and Wrecker stroll into the courtyard, the larger of the two asking loudly, "What's so funny, 'Meg?"

"I think that is what's so funny." The lankier one replies, gesturing to the nose of the shuttle with his left hand. He's forgone his prosthetic today. Some days he wears it, others he chooses to wear his cap with pride.

Wrecker scratches his beard and both his eyes widen, "WAIT- IS THAT?"

"So, it would seem." Crosshair says, placing a toothpick between his lips. "Breathe, Hunter." He says pointedly at his brother, who still looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"I-uhh. It's good to have you home, Omega." He finally stutters out.

He wraps his arms around her tightly as always, but his eyes are still glued to the hull of her shuttle. "Done some decorating, I see?"

"Yeah." She replies simply, giving Wrecker and Crosshair their own due hugs. "You like it?"

"It certainly is... something." Hunter gets out, stumbling over his words yet again.

"I found the image in some old Republic files we recovered, it reminded me of something I saw as a kid, but I don't remember where." She says, coming to stand beside Hunter again.

"Ehhh... Omega." Her father groans, running a hand through his greying hair. "Do you... Do you remember what the Marauder looked like when we first met?"

She turns to him. "No, why do you ask?"

Hunter finally peels his eyes away from the shuttle to face his daughter. "That picture you found... That was... That was the Marauder, that's where you know it from. You only saw it once. We scrubbed it off as soon as we decided to come back to Kamino for you."

"Really? I had no recollection." Omega tries to stop the grin from spreading across her face, but she can't help it, and Hunter, still perceptive as always scoffs at her.

"Why you little..." He growls at her, stifling his own laughter.

"I think she knows..." Crosshair chimes in, running his hand through his silver locks.

Wrecker's jaw drops, "Wait, you know where that's from?"

Omega shakes her head at her brothers. "Of course I know, I never forgot how awkward you all were when I asked about it. It didn't click exactly why until I found that old picture. Thought I'd bring it back for old time's sake, eh Hunter?"

Hunter's eyes widen as words escape him once again.

"Kidding," Omega teases. "I just wanted to see what your reaction would be."

Crosshair steps closer to the shuttle to examine the paint job. "Though this has been wildly entertaining, it might be best for you to scrub it, 'Mega."

Omega crosses her arms. "Why? You did it first little brother."

His eyes narrow at his sister, he's the only one she ever pulls that with and though he secretly loves it, she can't know that. "I mean it." He says sternly, pointing his toothpick at her. "Otherwise, Hunter is going to have an aneurysm every time you come home."

Omega looks to the clone beside her, just barely an inch shorter than her now. She places a hand on his shoulder, "Of course I'll scrub it. Echo thought the idea was hilarious. Plus, it gave me an opening to show you this."

She gently reaches into her bag and brings out a holoframe, turning it so Hunter can see. It looks just like any other quick photo taken in a Republic shipyard. Troopers are milling around in the back, by the looks of the landscape it might've been Ryloth. The focus of the photo, however, is a black Omicron-class attack shuttle and five clone commandos posed in front of it in red and black armor.

Their helmets are off, their faces young and confident, proud of their most recent mission. Though, the sniper has a rifle held in his right hand, and the one crouched in front doesn't have his goggles on. But it's clear who it is, all five of them. And on the nose of the attack shuttle behind them, is the striking portrait of the last senator of Naboo.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Whoever looked at the the Yugioh franchise and went "ah yes this is PERFECT to market to CHILDREN" should probably be taken out back behind the woodshed

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.” 

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

--

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

--

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head. 

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

--

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-” 

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions. 

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

--

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going. 

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

--

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away. 

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.” 

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

--

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you. 

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you. 

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin. 

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

********************

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

********************

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.” 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

********************

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

********************

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?” 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[gureumz]

are you mine? (are you? part 2)

rating: explicit

members: sunghoon, heeseung

notes/warnings: fem!reader, INFIDELITY, angst, bf!heeseung, reader cheats on heeseung (again), university setting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampies, mentions of degrading words in a non-sexual manner, i reiterate again: THERE IS CHEATING IN THIS STORY

a/n: i didn't intend to write a part 2 for 'are you?' but a lot of people wanted to know how it would turn out so here it is! this is much shorter than the first part and is mostly just vibes but with the events of the first part, what else is there to say? 🧍🏻‍♀️

read part 1 here

"do you want to meet my parents?"

you tense under heeseung's touch, hand midway down his bare chest. he's laying on his side, facing you, your legs tangled underneath the blanket. the warmth of his body fades away when a silent chill runs down your spine.

"yeah," you let out uneasily, chuckling in an attempt to mask your nerves. "but, not anytime soon."

heeseung's face remains the same, eyes unreadable as he examines your features. he brushes your hair behind your shoulder, running his fingertips down the flesh of your arm.

"why not? it's been almost four months since we started going out," heeseung replies softly, drawing circles on your elbow.

you move your arm away.

"i just don't think i'm ready," you say with an air of finality, hoping that heeseung would drop the subject.

you don't think you'll ever be ready. not after...

heeseung watches you for a few moments. to your surprise, he nods, lips spreading into an understanding smile.

"okay," heeseung chirps. "that's fine."

your chest feels like it's been caved in, relief and dread filling in like heavy sand.

"thank you," you say, smiling up at your boyfriend's face.

heeseung moves closer and plants a chaste kiss on your lips. you respond, endeared by the gentle pass of his mouth on yours, a contrast to how rough he was with you merely minutes before.

"if anything's bothering you, you know you can always tell me right?" heeseung whispers, placing slow, loving kisses on your face.

your heart seems to stop, then picks up beating ten times faster. heeseung isn't very vocal, and this sudden display of affirmation has you reeling.

he knows. he must know.

you laugh, a nervous shake in your voice. a half-baked joke enters your mind.

"anything?" you attempt playfully. heeseung takes the bait and pulls back, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"what if i was secretly a serial killer?" you deadpan, narrowing your eyes at heeseung. a smile tugs at the edges of your lips.

heeseung chuckles, pulling you against his chest. he presses his lips one more time to your forehead.

"then i would gladly be your victim."

---

"i'm yours."

you whimper at these words, pulling him closer to you, face buried in his sturdy shoulder. he moves passionately against you and your whole body erupts in invisible flames.

"all yours," sunghoon reiterates, tongue running along the line of your jaw.

"you don't mean that," you argue weakly.

your cheeks burn up as you realize just how loud the two of you are being. his dorm bed creaking, headboard banging against the wall. you knew it was safer to meet him here, less of a chance that your boyfriend might find something that isn't his.

"i do," sunghoon replies gruffly. "a slave to you, to this—god—to this fucking pussy."

you sob at his words, a mix of arousal, elation, and remorse rising in you. with sunghoon, it just felt too good, too alluring to refuse. he was a lighthouse, standing out in a sea of darkness you didn't even know you were stranded on.

with him, you were, you are shameless.

sunghoon finishes inside you, but not before you reach the finish line first, sans condom this time, as he had so many times since that night in his car.

the thought makes you feel filthy all over, in desperate need of a shower, to scrub all sin from your skin.

"spend the night," sunghoon says once he hands you a towel for you to use. you hold it to your core, wincing when you feel the simultaneous ache and squelch of his release dribbling out of you. you catch it before it stains his sheets.

you've never spent the night here before. you check the digital clock on sunghoons desk and it reads 1:13 a.m.

"i can't. heeseung's coming over early to walk me to class," you inform, twisting the towel in your hands.

sunghoon watches you from where he sits on the edge of his bed. you meet his eyes and you know he can see right through you.

heeseung's not really coming over.

"fine," you finally concede. you pretend not to notice the brief twitch in sunghoon's mouth.

"i kinda want to shower though," you add, eyes flitting over to the bathroom door.

sunghoon grins, leaning close. you wrap your arms around your knees protectively. he stares at your face for a second before kissing you softly, so soft you barely feel it.

"whatever you want," sunghoon says.

---

sunghoon holds you close under the shower now. a million thoughts are racing through your mind. in this space, at this time, it seems like the world has stopped and only the two of you are living beings in existence.

"text me tomorrow," sunghoon reminds, deep voice echoing against the bathroom walls.

you sigh, lifting your head from where it rests on his chest.

"you know i can't do that."

and you can't.

all your exchanges have been through brief, curt phone calls. sunghoon was smart enough to punch in his number on your phone after you were done in the parking lot that night. since then, you've labored over deleting every call log your phone creates after each conversation.

heeseung was none the wiser.

"then call," sunghoon corrects himself. "i love hearing your voice."

ironically, you don't say anything more to that.

---

"i can't believe i've been assigned on a project with him!"

your ears perk up.

the restaurant you're in is empty at this hour, with the rush of lunch ending some time ago. you pick up a french fry from the bowl you and heeseung are sharing, popping the greasy treat into your mouth.

"who?" you question.

"sunghoon."

the initial reaction you have to your boyfriend mentioning the guy you've been fucking behind his back has grown weaker over the past few weeks, but with how often heeseung references sunghoon, it's a surprise you haven't thrown up all over yourself in sheer guilt.

"oh, him again?" you throw out nonchalantly. you busy yourself with your phone, ignoring the way heeseung looks at you quizzically.

"what do you mean 'again'?"

you look at heeseung, trying to portray the perfect mix of exasperation and cluelessness.

"it's always sunghoon this and sunghoon that," you explain. "if i didn't know better, i'd say you were in love with the guy."

ha ha. what a funny joke.

and much to your surprise, heeseung finds this absolutely hilarious. he lets out a genuine, hearty laugh, slamming the table with his palm.

"he wishes," heeseung responds with a snort. "he's always trying to one-up me, copying everything i do, following me around like a puppy. i'd say he was in love with me."

wrong.

you laugh along, finishing off another french fry.

---

"you're trying to steal my boyfriend's life, is that it?"

sunghoon stops typing on his laptop, turning to you from where he's seated at his desk. you're sprawled over his bed, wearing one of his shirts.

"excuse me?" sunghoon says, as if fighting off the urge to laugh.

you slide off the mattress, sauntering over to him. you throw a leg over his lap, sinking down until you're straddling sunghoon. his large hands hold you by your waist. looking down at him at this moment, you feel every fiber of your being light up with a sort of giddiness you've never felt before.

"heeseung told me about how you're always trying to one-up him and 'beat him at his own game', so to speak," you explain.

"and now you're banging me, his girlfriend, every chance you get," you add cheekily, kissing the corner of sunghoon's mouth.

sunghoon exhales, hands traveling up your back, cradling you, holding you close.

"i don't want to steal his life," sunghoon says, voice low.

"even if i came with it?" you question, tilting your head to the side. sunghoon grins, kissing you so suddenly, you fall back against his desk.

"such a clever, clever girl."

you're trembling now.

anticipation. want. need.

"my clever girl," he adds.

---

the first cracks start showing the day you ask sunghoon about his wanting heeseung's life.

you promised to meet heeseung for dinner later that day but not before you rid yourself of sunghoon's shirt, of course. he sent you off with a long, heady kiss against the door of his dorm.

you were distracted for the entirety of the meal. heeseung could tell. you know heeseung could tell. something was eating at you from inside.

it didn't help when heeseung made a mindless comment on the way back to your own dorm room.

"you smell different," he had said.

you surrendered to the idea that you were irrevocably fucked at that point. you made a sorry excuse about borrowing a friend's perfume, nonetheless.

the cracks are spreading, spiderwebs of destruction in the walls of your relationship.

sunghoon is a proud man, not unlike heeseung. he's greedy, selfish, controlled by his desires.

you aren't as careful as you used to be. first, a hair tie, a black one, like any other hair tie. you left it at sunghoon's dorm one day. to this day, he wears it like a badge of honor.

a shirt next. a considerable jump from a hair tie, but sunghoon lent you one, and delirious with sleep, neither of you noticed when you waltzed right out of his room still brandishing the white tee that was obviously too big for you.

you made it under your own covers on your own bed when you finally realized.

lastly, a hickey.

you've done it now. you've fucked up so bad you can already see heeseung razing both heaven and hell as he finds out.

"fuck," you mutter under your breath, staring daggers at your reflection, at the red-purple mark just above your collarbone.

"fuck!"

how could both of you reach this point? practically gallivanting your affair under heeseung's nose. it sickens you. you're disgusted with yourself.

but you know you're only this appalled because you're a hair away from being caught.

you jump when you hear the door to your room slam shut. of course. of course. heeseung has a copy of your dorm room key. you gave it to him a few weeks ago as a sort of milestone in your relationship.

you think to yourself with much irritability that you shouldn't have done that.

the ceiling is caving in. run. run now.

"_________?" heeseung calls out. you hear him approach the bathroom door. he knocks and you feel like screaming.

so polite. heeseung's always so polite.

"i don't feel good, hee," you manage. you definitely feel sick and you want to pass out.

"what's wrong? do you need to go to the hospital?" heeseung asks, voice growing loud with concern. he tries the doorknob.

"no!" you yell a little too loud. "it's just—i just need to be left alone, please."

silence.

you hold your breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

you don't even know who's looking back at you.

"okay," heeseung finally says after a few moments. "let me know if you need anything, please?"

you call out a reply, collapsing to the bathroom floor once you hear your door close once more.

---

you ignore him for a week.

he tries to come over but you shoo him away with one excuse or another. your conversations are contained in dry texts and obligated phone calls. he asks what's wrong. he pleads with you.

nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong!

heeseung seems like a far-off memory now. you haven't properly looked at his face in days. you haven't held him in much longer.

today, he's waiting for you outside your dorm. he looks like shit. dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled, clothes unironed.

"baby, what's happening?" heeseung asks, not even sparing you any formalities. no 'hey', 'hi', or 'hello'.

he holds you by the arms, still gentle as ever and only now do you see the damage in his eyes. damage you've inflicted.

"i—," you begin. what are you going to say? sorry, i've been fucking sunghoon behind your back for the better part of four months, i let him call me his and i agree when he says he's mine?

"i can't do this anymore," you whisper, head hung low.

"do what? what can't you do?" heeseung demands, voice rising into a desperate whine.

"baby, please," he continues, sinking to his knees. he looks up at you and he's crying.

"what did i do?"

you watch heeseung sob at your feet and it's the most difficult thing you've had to watch thus far. you ball your hands into fists, confused, angry, regretful.

where's that ego now, heeseung? why aren't you mad? be mad! yell at me, blame me for something, tell me how much better off you'd be with someone else! make it easier for me to tell the world that you hurt me!

"you didn't do anything," you say, tears now falling from your own eyes.

heeseung just looks at you. looks at you for what seems like hours. his face, previously crumped up in despair, morphs into an expression of clarity.

he knows.

heeseung pulls himself up from the ground, letting go of you and stepping back, as if shocked by electricity.

"i hope you're happy."

you know what that means.

go fuck yourself. fuck you and whoever the guy is. you're a whore, a bitch, a waste of my time!

you look at heeseung one final time, shoulders shaking as your whole body is racked with sobs.

"i love you," heeseung declares.

he brushes past you, down the stairs, out the lobby, out the exit.

out of your life.

---

you truly are sick. you're vile. you're the worst.

sunghoon knows even before you can say anything. he pulls you into his room and into his arms, whispering nonsense to you as you cry into his chest.

and then you're kissing, hands pulling at clothes, tongues dragging against skin, blood rushing in your ears.

you know this makes sunghoon feel better about himself. you're not stupid. you carried out a secret affair for weeks. of course, you aren't.

you realize now that it's sunghoon who has an ego.

he relishes in the way you cling to him so desperately, basks in the sounds you make, mixed with his name.

"i've got you," sunghoon reassures, arms braced on either side of your head as he fucks you down on his bed.

"please," you whimper out, holding sunghoon's face in your hands. he's going so deep, abusing your hole and it feels so good.

sunghoon kisses you and it's forceful and needy and everything you need at this moment.

"you're mine," sunghoon grunts, your bottom lip caught between his.

you mewl as he lets go of your lip with a tug.

"i'm yours," you say.

sunghoon leaves kisses all over your chest, neck, and jaw. he's getting you closer to your release. you want it, you want it so bad.

"and i'm yours?" sunghoon questions, kissing behind your ear.

"all mine," you confirm.

---

you wake up the next day, limbs heavy and a colossal headache bursting through your head. you feel arms tighten around your midsection and it's a tidal wave of memories of the day before for the next few seconds.

you bury yourself further into the pillows and covers.

sunghoon kisses the nape of your neck and you drift back into sleep.

[sssilverstoned]

sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

[rthko]

Hey so here's a conversation you might or might not be interested in having but if you'd like to, it's been my understanding that you participate in the time honoured tradion of cruising (TM), so I was curious about how/why you first started engaging with that? Was it an intentional choice? Are there still live spots around where you live? Natural continuation from the grindr life? Feels like it isn't really a natural part of gay life for a lot of people these days and more of an active choice.

I do like having conversations like this! Now I do cruise, but not in the ways that first come to mind with the term "cruising." My experience is limited to bathhouses, bars, and parties with play spaces, but I haven't done it in, say, a park or a highway rest stop. Cruising refers to looking for sex in places known for the practice. Said sex does not have to occur there, so finding someone at a cruising spot and going to a second location is cruising, but a couple arranging to have sex in a park is not. There are definitely gray areas--is Grindr cruising, or is it an existential threat to the culture? What's the line between a plain old bar hookup and cruising? Is going to a cruising spot only to have sex with people you already knew cruising? Maybe someone reading this knows better than I do.

Knowing spots is and always has been a matter of word of mouth, but sites like squirt . org and Sniffies have made it a lot easier. People looking to cruise might look at these sites, or look for advice for their city in forums, or just know the right people who know their way around the "pickle parks." The spots I've been to are the easiest to find--obviously people are going to be having sex at a bathhouse. But there are other options--informal, discrete spots that don't (or can't) require an entry fee. You'd be surprised just how many there are, and not just in the cities you'd suspect. I just don't know much about this world, aside from the "official" brick and mortar spots.

I started going first out of curiosity, but then I kept finding more and more reasons. It wasn't a natural continuation from Grindr life but rather a reaction against it. I was sick of Grindr. I wanted to work on people skills, like dishing out and taking rejection respectfully, and without the ego-preserving move of a block button. I had a roommate and felt awkward inviting people over. I didn't have a car and had a hard time even getting to other people's places, and by the time I got there I'd lost my sexual appetite. I found being naked or in a towel in a space full of equally naked people helped me be at ease with my body. The men I had sex with couldn't find and contact me after the fact unless I deliberately gave them contact information. I felt more freedom to say no or change my mind in a place full of sexual possibilities than I would at someone else's apartment. I found a lot of reasons beyond finding voyeurism and exhibitionism hot--which I do.

I have learned not to focus too hard on the why. A lot of different types do it for a lot of different reasons, and that's part of the appeal for me. There are closeted and experimenting men, out and proud gays who view the baths as part of their identity, disrobed white collar professionals visiting my city for a conference, locals who can't host, and nobody's really asking who's who. This is the sort of contact that Samuel R Delany wrote about, overcoming the guiding rule of cities that we "don't talk to strangers." Michael Warner also has great writing on cruising and public sex, and challenges the idea that gay victory will look like normalcy and the end of cruising. Cruising is not as popular as it used to be, and I think it's important to acknowledge a lot of this comes down to policy and not a change in the gay conscience. Ironically, the very gentrification that scrubs away these spaces has made them necessarily through a tightening housing market where fewer people can host. I would not be surprised if I heard it confirmed that more gays lately are choosing to cruise--or already are and don't realize it. At the risk of over-simplified sentimentality, I'd be glad to hear it.

[futureman]

love like you

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike helps you through a rough patch by reminding you of the many, many reasons he loves you

warnings: established relationship, angst, comfort, mentions of depression, anxiety & panic attacks, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.1k

"Why do you love me?"

You ask the question so quietly, Mike almost misses it over the movie playing in the background. At first, he's not sure how to respond—or at the very least, where to begin.

You've never asked him that before, and he'd never given it much thought if he's being totally honest. He assumed you hadn't, either. It's just something he feels.

It's something he's always felt, gradually building since the day you led his sister back to him after she'd wandered off in the supermarket. He took one look at you, your kind eyes and patient smile, and asked you on a date without a second thought. That's what it's like to love you—instinctual.

He glances away from the TV and looks down at you curiously. Your head is nestled on his lap, eyes already locked on his and filled with apprehension he can't even begin to understand. There are a thousand and one reasons to love you; don't you realize that? He'd tell you every one if you asked.

He loves you because you're always there, through the late-night shifts and nightmares, helping him parent a child you shouldn't have to be responsible for at such a young age. You confiscate his controller every time he tries to smash it in a fit of rage, beating whatever boss he'd been fighting for hours like a champ. He thinks you're so fucking cool.

And you understand him like no one else ever has, so attentive and always willing to try. You kiss away his fears, strip him bare, unmask him. Allow him to seek shelter inside you, ride him to a mind-numbing release when his darkest thoughts threaten to consume him.

You hold him when he wants to give up, when the weight of the world is too much and persevering is too hard. The familiar, soothing tone of your voice reminds him to breathe, to tune out the little things and remember that there's still good to be found in life.

It's everything you do and everything you are. That's why he loves you.

But before he can say anything at all, your face screws up and your bottom lip begins to tremble. His chest immediately tightens.

"Woah, hey. It's okay," he murmurs, keeping you grounded in the present despite his rising panic. "You're okay."

You're prone to spiraling, but after years together, he knows the best way to mitigate it is to stay calm. Regardless of the raging storm in your head, you're safe with him, warm and dry at home on your couch.

He caresses your cheek, then trails up to scrub at the crinkle in your forehead. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing. It's—really, it's nothing. I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked you that," you shake your head, averting your gaze elsewhere. But after a moment, your eyes snap back to his, and there's so much pain there, he can almost feel it.

"No, it's...it's everything. My brain won't shut up, and it's mean and loud, and I just—," you pause, clenching your jaw in frustration. "I just don't get it. Of everyone you could've been with, why me? I can't understand why you chose me."

The question feels like a slap in the face. Like he had so many choices and only picked you based on some predetermined criteria of what someone should want in a partner. He didn't just pull your name out of a bowl, either. You chose each other.

He wracks his brain to figure out what he could've said or done to make you believe otherwise, but then remembers this isn't about him. He tries again to explain all of the reasons he wanted to before, to tell you that the unrelenting thoughts ping-ponging in your head are wrong, but you continue on, unraveling before his eyes.

"I'm a shitty person. I'm selfish and useless, and all I do is make everyone around me unhappy. There's always a crisis, I'm always sad. And I always make everything about me," you tell him, getting angrier by the second. "Ugly, worthless, selfish, selfish. I’m a fucking burden. You know, I—I just keep waiting for you to figure it out and leave. To get sick of this...of me."

He listens helplessly as you tear yourself apart, the ache in his chest intensifying the worse your verbal barrage becomes. He knows he can't just reassure away your insecurities or magically heal your trauma, no matter how badly he wants to. But he also can't let this go on any longer.

"Stop," he says softly, cutting you off. Hearing the full extent of your criticism is agonizing, and if it's hurting him this much, he hates to think what you must be feeling. "None of that is true. I think...I hope, deep down, you know that."

The broken look you give him tells him you don't, or maybe that you can't, at least not right now. You open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head and hauls you up into his arms. He holds you close as you start to tremble, guiding you to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"There's nothing shitty about you, alright? You're the least selfish person I've ever met. Kinda wish you were so you'd stop prioritizing us over yourself all the time," he murmurs into your hair. "And you're fucking gorgeous. I don't want to hear you say any of that ever again."

He tilts his head to meet your eyes. "Got it?"

You shake your head, turning to hide your face in the crook of his neck. He sighs. He just can't fathom how you could possibly look at yourself and not see what he and Abby do. But then again, he might understand more than he'd like to admit.

Everything you've told him tonight feels jarringly familiar. The self-hatred, the unending criticism—he wallows in those thoughts all the time and knows better than anyone that they'll eat you alive if you bottle them up for too long.

He hates that you have to suffer through this just because brain chemistry is indiscriminately cruel. It's unfair. He, at the very least, deserves it.

Except, that's not actually true, is it? And if your roles were reversed, you'd remind him as many times as it takes for him to believe it. You'd tell him that he's perfect exactly the way he is. That he's a good parent, brother, and partner, and regardless of all of the shit life has thrown his way, he's still a good person that isn't defined by his lowest moments.

So, he'll do the same for you.

He shifts you on his lap so you're face-to-face, your legs bracketing his thighs, and cups your cheeks to keep your attention on him. He's not letting you hide anymore. He needs you to hear what he has to say and trust that he'd never lie to you.

"You're not worthless or useless or anything else your brain is telling you right now. Okay? You're perfect," he says quietly, stroking your cheek. "I've always thought you were perfect, from the moment I met you."

Doubt clouds your expression. "I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"B-because that's what you're supposed to say when you're trying to make someone feel better," you reply shakily.

Ouch. He hadn’t expected that answer. It stings that you'd think so little of him, especially after all this time. He feels like he’s grasping at straws now, but everything he wants to say is just a variation of how highly he sees you. It’s all equally true, but if you can’t accept that, then what else can he do?

"Then, tell me what you need to hear right now. Tell me how to help you through this, because I love you so fucking much, and I will do anything," he pleads, his frustration bleeding through despite how hard he tries to suppress it.

It’s starting to affect you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and he can tell you want to run away, but instead of letting you go, he wraps his arms around you as carefully as he can to keep you from leaving. He doesn't want to force you to face this. He just needs you to stop hurting yourself. Your face crumples, and he feels his own do the same.

"I don't know. Probably nothing," you tell him, voice cracking. "Look, we don't have to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place. Can we just go back to watching the movie? I’ll rewind it—“

But Mike doesn't want to let this go. Even if he should, even though you're asking—he's determined to make sure you go to bed tonight knowing how loved you are. His next words come out harsher than he wants them to, but he’s getting desperate. He’s only human.

"Fine. You want the truth? Being with you is hard. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, and sometimes, it hurts like hell," he starts. Your expression morphs from sad to devastated, and he feels terrible for upsetting you, but he has to say this for both of your sakes.

"But that's what makes it worth it. I've never felt this way about anyone, probably never will again. Not because it's easy; because it's you. Sure, no one's perfect, but you're about as close as it gets. You're it for me.”

He truly believes that. Maybe you do, too. The tension in your body is beginning to bleed away, and you slowly sag against him, tucking yourself into his chest. He catches a glimpse of your face as you melt into him, and for the first time tonight, you look hopeful. Nuzzling into your hair, he continues.

"I can't imagine a life without you anymore. It's like you're part of me now, maybe even the best parts, and I fill in the gaps in between. We just…figured it out at some point. Together.” He’s starting to ramble, but he’s too invested to stop. Judging by the fact that you haven’t interrupted him or tried to intervene, it doesn’t seem like you want him to, either.

“Even the small shit other couples fight about. Like the dishes—you hate doing those because digging the silverware out of the sink grosses you out, so I do it. And you fold the laundry because I always burn myself taking the clothes out of the dryer. We talk shit out. We try."

He squeezes you a little tighter. “Maybe those seem like shitty reasons to love someone, but they’re real. Just as real as what I told you before," he says softly, pausing to kiss the top of your head. "You're beautiful. You're kind and passionate, and I’m just the lucky guy that gets to be with you. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

When he finally finishes, he’s all but gasping for air. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he’s breathing so heavily, he feels like he just ran a marathon. But it’s worth it to see the look on your face as you peer up at him, cautious but peaceful.

“How could I not want you?” you whisper, splaying your hand across his chest, just below his collarbone. You're feeling his heartbeat.

"I've been asking you that all damn night," he chuckles. Cradling your head in his palm, he swipes away a few stray tears that fall with the next flutter of your lashes. "So, did I answer your question or should I keep going? Because seriously, I can keep going—"

You snort, effectively cutting him off, then give him a wry smile. The relief he feels is palpable.

“You know, I really don’t deserve you," you murmur as you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw. When your lips linger, he ducks down to press his against yours, kissing you deeply and pouring in everything left unsaid.

"Sure, you do," he says kindly, but with finality. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you're both starting to look as tired as you feel. But more than that, he's grateful; to have you in his life and to be able to comfort you when you need it most. You taught him that. "And I think we both deserve some sleepytime tea and a really soft blanket...if Abby didn't already steal it off our bed."

Your face lights up, and it's as if he solved all of the world's problems with that one simple offering. It's the same look you give him when he tells you he loves you. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you say it back.

"I love you, too."

thanks for reading!

divider by @saradika-graphics

a/n: this was a homework assignment from my therapist 💀 oops

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It's Mardi Gras weekend, and Bradley should know by now that his actions are always going to have consequences. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley breezed through his classes on Friday. This weekend was his fraternity's Mardi Gras party, one of his favorites each year. Usually he loved it because of all the tits on display. This year, he'd be there with you, which was perhaps even better. 

"Why do I even waste my time?" he muttered, scrubbing the bathroom again. He had invited you to sleep over all weekend leading up to the party on Saturday night, and he didn't want you to have to use a disgusting bathroom. He also had to go with Jeff and Dev to pick up kegs soon. That ought to be fun. 

Dev tried to keep the peace, but Jeff was still condescending. "Looks like you had a fun time in the study room yesterday," he told Bradley with an eyeroll.

Bradley just grunted, lifting one end of the keg. "Yeah." Yesterday, in the moment, it had been amusing to know that Jeff knew Bradley had fucked you in there. Now, Bradley was uncomfortable thinking about it. That should have been private, just between you and him... and maybe whomever was studying in the next room over. 

And now Jeff had changed tack, and Bradley wanted to throw the keg at him. "She any good? Tight pussy?" Jeff asked casually, and Bradley shot him a warning look. "Just curious. She's cute, but I'd never hit it now that you've had her." 

Bradley would love to punch him in the face. He had to take three deep breaths before saying, "Don't talk about her like that."

Jeff started cracking up. "How else should I talk about her?"

Bradley never talked about any girls like that. Sure, he'd enjoyed a lot of them, Phoebe many times over, but he couldn't stand the banter. "Don't fucking talk about her at all. How does that sound?" 

Dev pushed Bradley out of the way and carried the keg with Jeff. "Chill guys."

If Bradley got into another fight, he'd be gone. Only three months until graduation. He needed to keep it together. 

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

Bradley had his hands all over you at the party on Friday night. It was a smaller crowd, presumably leading up to the rager that the Beta fraternity would be throwing the next night for Mardi Gras. Every time you took more than a few steps away from Bradley, he pulled you back to him. 

"Let's go upstairs, Sugar," he whispered to you over and over again. He had such an eager look on his face, you couldn't help but laugh. 

He wasn't drinking anything, but every time you finished a drink, he offered to get you another one. 

"We'll go up soon," you told him. It was effortless being around him. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he was sure acting like it. Acting like it enough that you could tell how pissed off Jeff was every time you saw him. 

So far tonight, you'd seen Jeff all over two different girls. You couldn't even imagine if you'd started dating him what he'd be like now. He was either doing this to get under your skin and Bradley's, or he would have been doing it behind your back. 

Bradley was standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, subtly playing with your hair while you watched a game of beer pong. "Actually, let's go upstairs now, Beer Boy." 

Bradley kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand, immediately pulling you toward the stairs. You had to hold the railing, laughing the whole way up as he was trying to take your shirt off. 

"Bradley!" you scolded, and you were both laughing. 

"Sugar!" he scolded you jokingly, but you came to a stop outside his door.

"Did you do that?" you asked, running your fingers over the hearts that had been drawn in black sharpie next to Sugar written on his door. Other than that addition, the door was exactly the same as the last time you saw it.

He nodded his head the tiniest bit. "Yeah."

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stop thinking about having Bradley as your boyfriend. It wasn't going to happen. 

"I like that," you said pointing to the ink and letting him lead you inside. You had his jeans down, kneeling in front of him right away. "Can I finish what I started yesterday?"

"Yeah," Bradley groaned loudly as you put your lips around his rapidly hardening dick. He was too big for your mouth, so you used both hands too. You bobbed your head a few times, sliding your tongue along the tip. As far as you could tell, guys loved this. You just weren't sure if your technique was good or not. Your mind drifted to Bradley doing this with Janessa, and you felt the burning need to be better than her. 

You sucked hard on him for a few seconds until he moaned, running his hand along your cheek. You let him slip out of your mouth long enough to ask him, "Do you like that?" Your voice sounded deep and needy, and Bradley looked down at you with a subtle smirk that had you wrapping your lips around him again. 

He maintained eye contact with you while he said, "I like everything you do."

Licking along his tip, the words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "Am I better for you than Janessa?" You paused with him resting right between your lips, your breath ghosting over him.

Bradley's lips parted, but it took him a few seconds to answer. "Don't compare yourself, Sugar. You'd make everyone else look bad all the time."

You sucked on him and took him as far as you could, rolling your tongue and listening to all of the noises he was making. When he started whispering your name, you hollowed your cheeks and squeezed his balls. He came so hard, hitting the back of your throat; you almost choked before swallowing him down. You looked up at him as a few tears leaked from your eyes, his dick still inside your mouth.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he told you.

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

Bradley loved getting head. Watching you suck his dick was so fun for him, he'd remember it for the rest of his life. You made eye contact, struggling to take him all the way and choking on his cum. You shed some pretty tears, and Bradley scooped you up into his arms. 

Softly, you asked him, "Will you go down on me?"

He nodded and kissed you softly. Giving girls head was a means to an end. He already got off in your mouth, so he could not believe he was agreeing to this right now. But he undressed you, spread you out on his bed and found that you were soaking wet. 

"Did you get this wet while your mouth was on me?" he asked you, dipping a finger through your folds and opening you up a bit more to his gaze. Jesus, you were so pretty down here too.

"Yes," you gasped when his finger stroked your clit. He put his mouth on you, slid his finger inside and sucked gently. You were moaning so softly, rolling your hips against his mouth in a rhythm that Bradley found addicting in a way he never had before. He removed his fingers and licked a broad stripe slowly from below your opening to above your clit. 

"Bradley!" you yelped and he grinned up at you. 

"You liked that?" he asked as you nodded down at him. He kissed you softly as he whispered, "Tell me you liked it and I'll do it again, Sugar."

"I liked it," you said, your voice breaking on the words. When Bradley did it again, you moaned his name. 

"Tell me how much you like it," he demanded with a devilish grin, licking you again. "Tell me, Sugar."

You just begged, whispering please again, seemingly unable to form any other words as you covered your face with your hands. 

"You sound dumb, baby." He dipped his tongue into you, swirling your moisture until it was all over his face. 

You sounded like you were crying when he put his lips back on your clit, and your hips were rolling harder. You came hard and loud, half laughing and half crying, and Bradley crawled up your body, kissing your sweetness into your mouth. 

After a few minutes, you shuffled yourself under the blankets and curled up next to him, his pants still halfway down his legs. "I've never been able to cum like that before," you whispered, and Bradley grinned as you dozed off. If this is how it would always feel with you, then he wouldn't mind doing it over and over again.

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

You went home to shower and change before the Mardi Gras party, and Bradley insisted on walking you there. "You don't have to," you said. "It's broad daylight outside!"

"I want to," he told you, covering your mouth when you tried to protest again. 

"I'll walk back later with Janessa," you told him, promising you wouldn't walk alone. 

Janessa did your makeup in the kitchen. "Glitter?!" you asked, cringing as she swiped some on.

"Stop scrunching your face like that. You'll fit right in this way. Just wait until you see what the other girls are wearing....or not wearing, I suppose," she told you, putting a purple shade on your lips. 

"What are you going to wear?" you asked, trying not to move your lips while she worked. 

"Not much," she said with a shrug. "I'm planning on getting some beads. Wanna borrow something tiny?" 

"Beads? Like flashing the guys?" you asked, suddenly kind of wanting to stay home. 

"Yeah, it's fun. Doesn't mean anything. Except when I flash Tyson... that's going to mean something." Janessa was smirking now. 

Bradley was going to be waiting for you if you didn't show up. You exhaled, saying, "I guess. Give me one of your shirts."

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom and almost laughed. Janessa's shirt was so small, it looked like an oversized sports bra. But at least it had long sleeves. You threw Bradley's sweatshirt on over your outfit, planning on leaving it on for awhile. 

When you and Janessa arrived at the house, it was more packed than you could have ever imagined. There were literally topless girls hanging out on the porch, and you had no idea how the guys weren't getting a noise complaint at the moment. 

"Let's go," Janessa yelled, dragging you inside the house. When you didn't see Bradley right away, you made your way toward the kitchen, hoping he would make it easy for you in this crowd. There were beads flying across the living room and people were standing on the couches. 

You caught some beads before they could hit you in the head and looped them around your neck. "Thanks," you muttered to the guy who threw them as he chanted  Flash us!

When you were practically shoved through the kitchen door, you saw him, sitting on the counter next to Dev and sipping a beer. There were two girls with them, laughing and probably flirting, wearing shirts smaller than the one you had under Bradley's sweatshirt. Your heart sank. 

"Sugar," Bradley said when he saw you, hopping off the counter and shoving past both girls. You didn't know why you felt nervous. As soon as he reached you, he was kissing you right in front of the others. "Hi."

"Beer Boy," you whispered next to his lips, and you watched him smile. 

He pressed his lips to your neck, and you saw both girls eyeing you up with interest. Well, this was a new feeling for you. 

"Let's get you a good beer," he told you. He opened two and handed you one. "Wanna walk around?" 

You laughed. "It's so packed, I don't see how we could walk around.

"We'll manage. Nice shirt, by the way," he said with a smile, tilting his beer toward his own sweatshirt on you. "What you got on underneath?" he asked, licking his lips. 

"Not much," you told him with a smile, knowing he would find out later. 

"Love to hear that," he said, taking your hand and leading you out into the crowd and noise. 

You had to yell to be heard. "Why are there so many guys here tonight? Usually it's mostly girls."

Bradley leaned in closer to you. "We invite guys from other frats to this party every year. Kind of a goodwill gesture. Come for the free beer, stay for the girls," he said with a laugh. "I don't know most of them, so stay close, okay?"

You agreed as he nodded toward the beer pong tables and raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes," you confirmed. Now that you'd gotten so much better, you didn't mind playing in front of a crowd. 

Bradley got your body squared up just like last time, his hands lingering on your hips and sliding up under the sweatshirt. "You know, if you're too warm, we can just take this off...." 

You didn't stop him when he slid the fabric up higher and higher, revealing your bare torso inch by inch. 

"Damn, Sugar. Are you wearing anything under this?" he asked, and you laughed before he finally revealed green fabric. "That's a tiny shirt." He was licking his lips as he looked at your breasts. You'd skipped a bra, and it was so obvious right now. You were afraid everyone was looking at you, but no... just Bradley. 

You almost whimpered as he tossed his sweatshirt into the corner and let his hands rest on your waist.

"Focus, you two!" called a random guy from the other end of the table, and Bradley got you in place again. 

"Just like last time. It's math," he reminded you, taking the first shot and making it into a cup.

You jumped up and down, and his eyes were instantly on your breasts again. 

"God, this is going to be a fun night," he told you. 

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

Bradley watched you make two shots in a row, throwing your arms around him in celebration. "We won!" you cheered, and he kissed you hard on the mouth. He ran his hands along your back. 

"You're good at it now." He set the table up again, getting it ready for the next set of opponents to try to beat you. Bradley glanced around the room, every once in a while spotting some bare tits. The Beta guys were handing out liberal amounts of Mardi Gras beads, and he had a few strands in his pocket, but he was planning on giving them all to you. 

He had spotted the gold strand around your neck before. "Where'd you get the beads, Sugar?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

You rolled your eyes. "Some guy threw them at me and then tried to get me to flash him. Idiot did it in the wrong order," you told him with a laugh. 

Bradley laughed as the next pair made their way to the table. "You wanna earn some more beads?" he asked, pulling you against him with a smirk. 

"From you?" you asked. It was so loud, Bradley had to practically read your lips. He nodded in response and almost fell over when you pulled up the bottom of your little crop top, and glancing side to side, revealed your tits to him. Your body was pressed against his pretty good, so he only caught a glimpse, but he smiled so much his cheeks hurt. 

"God damn," he whispered in your ear as you blushed and pulled your shirt back down. He slid one hand inside your shirt and pinched your nipple. Your eyes went wide and you gasped. Bradley kissed your open mouth and looped some purple beads around your neck. 

Then he guided you to the table, acting like he didn't have a semi hard dick when he took the first throw. 

You were getting drunk after the second and third games, dancing around next to him. At one point, he had to guide you closer to the wall, because you were insisting on flashing him again. "Just take all my beads, baby. They are all yours," he promised, adding all of the strands from his pocket to the ones you were already wearing. You were giggling nonstop now and reaching for him. He was planning on taking you upstairs soon. 

Bradley knew Phoebe was out on the porch, and he had spotted Jeff a few minutes ago, but he seemed to be keeping his distance, thankfully. "I need the bathroom," Bradley told you. "I'll be right back."

So Bradley walked away as you started to set up the beer pong table again. You were smiling, and the two of you were on a roll, knocking out all of your opponents. He ran upstairs to his bathroom to pee. When he looked in the mirror, which he hated doing, he actually looked happy. Huh.

He wove his way back through all of the tits and found you standing with your back to him. Some guy he didn't recognize was talking to you, and Bradley wanted to start the next round of pong, but he froze as the guy ran his fingers down your side. 

You didn't back away when he asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Bradley watched you shake your head, and he clenched his fists. "No, I don't have a boyfriend," you answered, and the guy smiled at you in such a way that Bradley wanted to level him. 

When he touched you again, you stumbled backwards a step and laughed, encouraging this dickhead. 

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked nobody in particular. While he supposed you weren't lying, it made him so angry that you were still chatting with the other guy. The thumping music was starting to make Bradley's head pound. He really needed to get out of this room now, and he wanted to beg you to come with him to the kitchen or his bedroom or outside. Anywhere away from everyone else. 

"Bradley!" called a girl with her naked tits covered in beads. "I haven't seen you in weeks!" He was pretty sure this girl had, until very recently, had her name written on his door.

"What's up?" he asked her, still watching you with most of his attention. 

"Just having fun!" she announced. "I don't know if you remember my name, but it's Willow. Can we go upstairs?" 

"No," he told her softly, letting his eyes dip down to her chest. Her nipples were peeking out between the beads, and he thought for a second that he did remember fucking her. It had been fun. 

"No?" Willow asked, pulling his hands up to her chest. Maybe Bradley had more beer in him than he originally thought, because he was having a hard time processing. She started kissing his cheek, inching toward his mouth as she laughed. 

She kissed his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Bradley sighed, running his fingers aimlessly along her body, stopping at her tits. If you were going to flirt with other guys, why couldn't he do the same? But the thought made him uncomfortable. 

"Wait, no," he managed to say, backing away.

She pouted. "Well can I at least have more beads then?" she asked.

"I gave them all away," he said, turning back to where you were looking thoroughly upset. "To Sugar. Sugar!"

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

You were going to throw up. You turned away from Max, a guy you used to tutor in calculus, before you spotted Bradley just across the beer pong table. He had his hands all over a topless girl, and they were kissing. She was reaching for the front of his jeans, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her. You watched Bradley's hand skim over her breasts as if you weren't right here. As if you hadn't just flashed him and let him touch you. As if you meant nothing. 

You wanted to rip his fucking door right off the hinges and throw it out his bedroom window. 

"Sugar!" he called when he turned to face you. But you started walking away, you already had tears in your eyes now, so you swiped them off your cheeks. He wasn't worth crying over, but you couldn't help it. You had feelings for him, after just meeting him last month. You knew how he was, but you let yourself fall anyway. 

You squeezed through bodies, having an easier time of it than Bradley with his bigger form. 

"Sugar!" he called. "Wait!" But you just moved faster until you were out on the front porch. You saw Phoebe, and she gave you a dirty look which just made you want to cry even more. You were such a fucking idiot, you took off down the sidewalk. But out in the open, Bradley caught up to you easily. 

"Talk to me!" he demanded, and you turned around to gape at him. 

"About what? You touching that girl's boobs? Or you shoving your tongue down her throat?" you asked, sobbing a little bit. 

Bradley looked like he was in agony. "Why the fuck did you tell that guy you don't have a boyfriend?"

"Because I don't, Bradley! The last guy who asked me out was Jeff, and I told him no!"

"Why were you flirting with him? And letting him touch you?" 

Now your anger was taking over and the sadness was receding. "I wasn't! I told him to stop! You know what, Bradley? You have a lot of nerve. You touched her and kissed her, and you're trying to make me feel bad?"

"Sugar, I didn't-"

"Stop calling me that!" 

Bradley ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I fucked up, but it won't happen again!"

You laughed at him and started walking away again, shivering in the night air with your skin exposed. "No shit, it won't happen again. Lose my number. And repaint your fucking door." 

"Will you listen to me?" he asked, grabbing you by the shoulder to stop you. "I really like you!"

You just shook your head and started crying more. "No, you don't. You think you do. You even made me think you did, but you don't."

"Fuck!" he shouted. "I have never dated anyone before, and I want you to be my girlfriend."

You stood stunned, in the middle of the sidewalk. "No." You turned and walked toward your apartment with Bradley on your heels. "Leave me alone," you told him, wiping your tears away as you went. But he stayed with you until you reached your building. "Will you leave me alone? Please?" you asked, hiccupping. You forced yourself to turn to face him, and when you did, the urge to throw up returned. 

He looked devastated. You had wanted him to be your boyfriend. You really wanted him to want to make it official. And now he had ruined it. He had ruined all of the times he had been so sweet to you. Every memory was going to boil down to this moment for you. 

"I just... needed to make sure you got back safely," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. I wouldn't do it again. I would be a good boyfriend." His eyes looked watery, but you knew you had to stand your ground.

"Lose my number. Paint your door." You went inside. 

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

Wow.... nice going, Beer Boy. Sugar knew better than to get involved. Gotta thank @mak-32 once again... this fic is for you.

Part 10

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@high-bi-imgonnacry

@xoxabs88xox

[eyesanddragons]

Albatross, Animus Dragons and Preventable Tragedies

(Also Known as: This tragedy was not inevitable, let's talk about responsibility)

(CWs: Murder, Abuse)

So, Legends Darkstalker as a book has a lot of thoughts about fate and inevitability. Clearsight and Darkstalker try and fail to create an ideal future for the both of them, Fathom is scared that he can't prevent his animus magic from destroying is soul, and the readers know how all of this is going to end since Legends Darkstalker is a prequel to Arc 2.

In the midst of all this talk about inevitability and fate we have...Albatross. Someone who we've known about since Arc 1 and know how his story ends. He causes the Royal Seawing Massacre, his magic allegedly "driving him insane." What's interesting about Albatross is that when you really look at his life, this historical version of it falls short in many ways. The retelling of his life leave out important context, and notably, scrub any idea that someone or multiple someones might have caused him to act like this.

It's Albatross' fault in the end, it's his fault for losing control, his fault for being "insane."

But if we take an actual look at the story in Legends Darkstalker you find that this really isn't the case.

Albatross found out he was an animus in a very...unpleasant way. He enchanted a shell to bite the claws off his sister, Sapphire. This event was deeply traumatic and would stick with Albatross for his entire life. You might be wondering why Albatross didn't fix Sapphire's claws considering his powers and I'll get to one of the reasons in a bit since it's very important to what I'm trying to say, but @/kinkajouwof breaks it down over here.

In short, most likely the reason why Albatross didn't fix it at the start is due to uncertainty if he really Could do it and because Albatross and Sapphire were terrified.

The reason more important to my point though is that Lagoon Actively Benefited from this fear. When Lagoon became Queen she would hold this action over Albatross whenever he was unwilling to do things to guilt him into following what she wanted him to do.

"This is a waste of time, Lagoon," he said. "Nobody ever tested me, but we figured out quickly enough what I could do. If any of them have a shred of power, surely they would of known by now. Or it will become obvious, sooner or later." "I'd prefer sooner," the queen said silkily. "If we find another animus in the tribe, that would make us twice as powerful, which would be quite useful given how the Mudwings and Rainwings have been behaving lately. And the earlier we find her, the sooner you can start to train her, and the sooner I can start to use her." "Besides," she added in a lower voice, so Fathom had to strain to hear her, "I think we would all prefer to discover our next animus in a less...dramatic fashion than you were discovered. Don't you?" Albatross flinched, just slightly. He cast a skeptical eye across the young. "My power is more than enough for whatever you need. I've given you everything you've asked for, haven't I? And I don't want an apprentice."

Afterwards Lagoon commands Albatross to start the test but you can see what I mean. Lagoon actively threatens Albatross and Exploits Him, and wants to find Other Animus Dragons to Exploit. He is not just a Subject to Lagoon, he is an Object to Lagoon. Non-sexual objectification.

She plans to do the same thing to another animus, Lagoon's rule was built on Exploiting the powers of the people she could Control. She wants to find them young so she could mold them into the tools she wanted them to be earlier. She wants to condition them to treat themselves as objects Now.

This treatment comes to a head during the banquet. Where Lagoon once again holds what happened to Sapphire over his head, while also threatening to Replace Him.

"Here is our first animus," Queen Lagoon said to the Skywings, who seemed to have figured that out themselves, judging by the looks of terror on their faces. "My brother, Albatross. We were just talking this morning about what his next project should be. I'm thinking big this time. Something that makes me invulnerable, perhaps. Or something that kills any dragon who might be a threat to me." Beyond Albatross, over the couches, Splash stiffened, and Fathom saw her crush one of the hibiscus blossoms between her claws. He glanced around and saw his father put a wing around Manta, who had gone pale. "Yes," Albatross said. "Although you recall I wasn't exactly enthused about any of those ideas." "Then it's lucky you're not my only animus dragon," Queen Lagoon said coldly. Fathom felt a shiver all the way down to the tip of his tail. If she asked him to do a spell like that, would he? Would he obey his queen and put his own mother in danger? Or disobey her, and perhaps put everyone he cared about in even worse danger? What would she do to Indigo If I ever said no to her? Albatross stopped right in front of the queen, snout-to-snout with her. Fathom couldn't read his face. He looked as though he'd been carved from stone, any emotions chipped away. "Do you think you're done?" Queen Lagoon said to him softly. "Do you think you'll ever be done atoning for what you did to Sapphire? It's not going to end Albatross. You'll always be mine."

This is a bit of a blunder on Lagoon's part since Albatross Kills her! She's revealed that she is Never going to let him go, that no matter how hard he works he's never going to escape. No matter what he does he will be an Object to her. Fight, Flight or Freeze, stay here and be worked to death killing hundreds of people or Escape Now.

And Albatross...chose Fight.

Note that Albatross literally says right here that he doesn't Want to make Lagoon Invulnerable, he doesn't Want to give her the power to kill people.

When he starts killing other people it's not because he became ax-crazy. He killed the Queen, no matter how horrible and cruel she was their all going to defend her...and they've never thought about him. They've never cared for him. To them he was also an Object.

So...he kills them too.

Now I'm not saying He should of killed all those people, murder is bad actually. But this is a Consequence of Lagoon and the rest of Seawing society's actions. This is the direct, real, bloody consequence of treating a person like an object designed to serve their every whim.

This wasn't something he was doomed to be, this is something that has a tangible cause and effect. The system and the way it treated him is What Caused This.

Except, none of the Seawings who survived Want to face that. They don't Want to accept responsibility for that. Why should they accept the responsibility and guilt of having lead one of their own to believe that murder was the only way to escape a truly horrific and abusive situation...when they have a perfectly convenient scapegoat. Remember...Albatross is an object. Lagoon died, not because she perpetuating a horrible abusive situation that her society allowed her to do due to the absolute power she was given, but because she handled Albatross Improperly. Animus magic is just a dangerous thing, and the people who can use it are dangerous tools. This isn't Their Fault for treating a person like an object, it's the fault of improper usage of a tool.

It's a more convenient story for everyone...except for Fathom who proceeds to be treated horribly and drown himself in guilt and shame for being Dangerous.

Seawing Society caused something horrible and instead of trying to fix it, turned their backs and pretended they did nothing wrong. When we see Anemone their doing the Exact Same Thing to her. She is an object, a weapon of war, and she will be treated as such. Anemone believes she's doomed to become evil and almost Kills her family out of the belief that she is doomed to become a mass murderer.

Albatross' Massacre was preventable, and that's what makes it tragic.

[zombiecreates]

Work Husband // Chishiya Shuntaro

Summary - Chishiya and you both work as surgeons. Chishiya being pediatric and you obstetrics, you see each other fairly often. You both always considered each other work partners and that was it, there was no affection between y'all.

Smut ^^

Like & Reblog <3

A/n - this was so poorly written considering it took hours, this is me apologizing 😭

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

Chishiya - Let me pick you up today, I have coffee.

You - Okay! I'll be ready as soon as you get here.

You say putting your phone down, and put on your scrubs. Picking up your purse with everything in it you head out the door, and wait for Chishiya.

Taking a seat on the black leathered car seats, you sigh of exhaustion. "I can't function this early." You say taking a sip of the coffee he brought you, "It's only 5 AM, go to sleep earlier." Chishiya spoke bluntly. You noticed in the corner of your eye, he slowly begins to pick up his coffee, and all you can think about his hands. As you inch your hands between your thighs scooting up in your chair, trying to get rid of this feeling as you two pull into your work's parking lot.

"You forgot your purse." Chishiya chimed in a calm tone, chuckling to himself, "Oh shoot, thanks." You grab your purse from the car and quickly made yourself inside, going straight to the locker rooms. "Oh!" Your pager went off, "I have to go deliver some twins I've been waiting on, see you later?" "Of course." Chishiya said as you rushed out not looking twice to wave goodbye.

"Alright mama, here are your two beautiful girls!" You said happily while taking off your gloves, you notice someone walks in. Chishiya. You feel funny, but shaking it off, you have a serious job there's no time wasting it on relationships, or silly little crushes. "Two perfectly healthy girls." He said handing the twins back to the mother, "All right I have a surgery soon so I'll see you too later." scrunching your nose towards the twins, you smile and leave but not before saying your goodbyes to Chishiya.

You're frantic, trying everything you can to save this ladies life. You have never met her but she is all you care for at the moment. "Come on breath!" You paused your CPR, "Thank god." You wiped sweat away, and began to stitch her back up, and tell your crew and interns spotting in to clean everything up and get her back to her room. "What a day so far." Taking off your cap you head back to labs to do more research to see if you missed anything that could cause this, you couldn't have missed anything.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here." That damn smirk he always has, It's frustrating you just like the many other things about him. Everything about him you wanted, and you don't know why, your priority was always your job and not dating or even hooking up with people. Why are you feeling so strange. You didn't realize you were staring until you saw his face change from the smirk dropping down to a confused look. "Sorry, I had a busy day already lost in thought." You try to play it off hoping he doesn't notice, but he did. He caught onto the act before you even realized what you were doing as well. You look at the time, '6 PM.' it read, "Wow I didn't know it was so late." You spoke out trying to make small talk to change the mood, "Did the person survive?" "Huh?" "oh, yes she did." You put on a soft smile, why were you acting so weird? "good i'm glad, you're a great surgeon you know?" All you could think about how you wanted to hear him praise you some more, how his voice sounded like silk every time he spoke out. Grabbing the files you needed to go through everything and walking out, just before you could Chishiya grabs your wrist. Pushing your hair back, he presses a small kiss on your lips, and leaves. You craved his touch again, to feel him skin to skin but all you could do is watch him leave.

After awhile all you could see was his name everywhere, on the board, cafe orders, cases. Chishiya, Chishiya, Chishiya. It was getting late and you haven't seen him after that last interaction. You were getting worried but couldn't pin point why you were so worried and focused more on him than your actual job. Your pager buzzed, reading 'MEETING ROOM.' in all caps. Of course, it was Chishiya and you weren't surprised at all.

"I know what you did earlier." What could he be talking about? "What do you mean?" You got nervous trying to laugh it off. He came closer. "You know.. in the car." "I didn't even give you attention, all I had to do was pick up a cup and I already got you turned on." Fuck. "Please.." You trailed off, "We can't." "Why not?" You sigh, "I have to focus on my work.. that's how I got where I am." He scoffs, "Now that's no fun, loosen up." Chishiya places his hands on your shoulder massaging them. He knew exactly where to message and it felt amazing. Melting into his arms you slightly step back, bringing yourself closer to him. You can hear him sigh out through his nose as you feel he's slowly getting erect. Laughing to yourself you decide to move your hips side to side while being as close as you could, teasing him. "You can do better than that, how about getting on your knees for me baby?" You never saw this side of Chishiya, he was always laid back and professional, what made him change all of a sudden?

Taking a seat, he waited for you to come over by him. You got down your knees without thinking twice. Both of y'all praying your pagers don't go off, Chishiya slides his scrubs down, you were in awe. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and started to slowly go up and down, inching closer you circled his tip with your tongue before taking him in all the way. You could taste the small amount a pre-cum as you bobbed your head up and down, "fuuck.." He sighed out throwing his head back. You never realized how much you needed this man in any way but just friends until this very moment. You were too busy not realizing the hints he's been making.

He starts to thrust himself into you, making you gag a bit. He grab your hair and holding it up for you, as you take all of him in. "You look so pretty getting throat fucked by me." He moaned out trying to keep himself quiet. Feeling beads of tears stream down your face, you start to feel him thrusting faster while the sounds of Chishiya's orgasm fills the room. As he came you swallowed it all out of lust and greed for this man.

Chishiya pulls up his scrubs, "Stand up for me?" He asked, and you did. You would do anything for this man.

Feeling yourself getting lifted, and slowly placed on your back of the table. Chishiya moved everything to the side, and gets down. You trust him, "May I?" You never said yes so fast in your life. Pulling down your scrubs, he admires your red laced panties for a second, before pulling them to aside. He buries his face in your womanhood. "Shiya.." You gasped, "You taste so good.." He breathes out while making small circles around your clit. Licking around your slit he slowly begins to move down making love marks around your thighs, you cant handle it. "Please.." "Please what?" He smirked making direct eye contact. "Please eat me until I can't think about anything else but you!" You cried out, you were so desperate it was starting to get embarrassing. He moved back to devouring your cunt. You were so close you could feel it, "Shiya!" You arched your back. As you came down from a long lasting orgasm you notice you legs begin to shake. Both of you were gasping for air, and exhausted.

He helps clean yourself up, and kisses you softly. Getting sad realizing he had to leave, but you understood why. "I'll see you later?" Chishiya said walking out backwards with his hand in his pockets. You nod silently with a soft blush on your face and watch him leave.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

October 6: Corn Maze

Just a note that Harry's ace in this one (I'm working through a lot with my sexuality atm). There are lots of different ways of being ace, lots of different experiences, and I'm not trying to imply this is everyone's experience (but it is mine, so) just wanted to offer a sensitivity warning.

Harry wasn't overly fond of mazes. Not since fourth year, in particular, but also not since everything in his life seemed to be misdirection.

Lately, he'd been feeling like there'd been one too many turns, one too many dead ends, one too many miss-steps; at some point, it felt like he ought to have been due a break.

Still, he found himself with his friends and his godchildren at a literal corn maze; a race to get to the center. And Harry couldn't really have cared less about winning.

He turned down another way, heard a child a few rows over shriek with delight as they ran past, corn rustling, and wished in the very depth of his bones that he could feel simple joy like that, wondered if he ever would. Realizing it was another dead end, he sighed and started to turn back.

"I was hoping I'd find you," spoken softly, just behind him.

"Circe, Draco," he breathed, "you startled me."

Draco was standing there, wearing an over-sized maroon jumper that covered his fingers, blonde hair slipping out of its braid leaving strands framing his face. And Harry ached with how he loved him, ached with the ways he didn't (couldn't).

"Why were you hoping to find me?"

He tucked a strand of fine blond hair behind his ear as he stepped into his space, "So I could do this," he whispered, leaning in and kissing him sweetly.

And, oh, Harry loved kissing. He loved his friends, loved Draco in particular. He loved being able to touch him, loved holding his hand and carding his fingers through his hair. Kissing him at the pub a few nights ago, he hadn't meant to, it had- "Draco, wait-"

"Oh," he said, taking a step back, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep, after Monday, I thought-"

"Wait," he said, reaching out to take the other man's hand, holding it, "listen. I-" he broke off, shook his head, exhaled. How had his life become this? "I don't want to mislead you."

"Right," he said taking a step back, shaking his head. "You're not interested. You were drinking, we were drinking. It's fine, let's forget about it."

"I'm ace," he blurted, not knowing how else to say it, not knowing how to tell Draco it wasn't about him, it was entirely about Harry. "And I love you, Draco. You are one of my best friends. If you asked me tomorrow if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I'd say yes. I love you with my whole heart."

Draco sat down on the ground, staring up at Harry. "I'm-" he shook his head, "I am so confused."

Harry collapsed next to him, wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'm asexual-" he started again.

"No, I heard that," he said, "and I heard you tell me that you love me, that you'd spend the rest of your life with me-"

"I would, Draco," he said earnestly.

"But you don't want to kiss me?" he asked, brow furrowing.

He shook his head, "It's not that I don't want to kiss you." He scrubbed his nails through the short hair at the base of his neck before ruffling the curls at the top of his head. "It's that I love you so much but I'll never be in love with you. Not the way you-" he broke off, choking on the words, "not the way you deserve. I would kiss you, I'd cuddle with you; hell, I'd have sex with you and I would probably like it. But I'd like it because I love you, not because I care about the sex," he rambled, seemingly unable to stop himself now that he started, a freight train rolling down a hill unable to brake, "but I'm not opposed, I just won't think about it. And I won't-"

"Harry," he said, reaching out and putting his hands on both of Harry's shoulders, "hey. Woah. Slow down, take a breath," he said softly. "Can I hold your hands?" he asked, moving a bit to sit in front of him.

Harry nodded, feeling teary, reaching out and taking the other man's hands in his.

"I hope you know that I would never ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with," he started. "You're so important to me, I'd never ask you to have sex if it wasn't something you wanted-"

"It's not about the sex." He shook his head, "I like orgasms, I'm not sex-repulsed; it's probably why it took me so long to realize that I'm ace in the first place."

Draco squeezed his hands, "Thank you for telling me, for trusting me. But Harry, I can't understand what you meant by misleading me?"

"I don't," he shook his head, "I don't experience attraction the way that most people do, the way that you do. Sex isn't going to be the thing I think about. The way I love you," he shook his head, "I love you so much Draco but it's not the same as how you love me-"

"Does it have to be?" Draco asked. "Harry, you're everything to me," he breathed. "I love you too, I love you so much. And I'm in love with you. Does it have to be the same?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know," he whispered. "I haven't the foggiest idea," he confessed. "It's never been enough in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I understood my sexuality," he said. "I loved people before and I thought they loved me," he swallowed, "but I haven't been enough, haven't been right-"

"You're enough for me," Draco said, cupping Harry's cheek. "You're right for me. There's nothing wrong with you," he said gently. "I'm sorry that other people have made you feel like there is."

"Oh," he said faintly, equally wanting to brush him off and wanting Draco to give him more gentle reassurances.

"You don't have to believe me right away," Draco said. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm really rather gone on you," he chuckled self consciously.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Draco's neck, "What if you change your mind?"

"I hear your concern," Draco said, hands soothing over Harry's back, "but what if I don't?"

Harry laughed softly, terrified of even letting himself imagine that as a possibility.

"What if you just let me love you? What if we just," he shrugged, jostling Harry's head, "let ourselves be happy?" he said like a question.

"I'm afraid," Harry confessed.

Draco nodded, wrapping him tighter in his arms, "me too. Terrified that you'll realize that I'm not worthy of your love. So afraid you'll wake up and realize that you don't actually love me."

"Draco," he said softly, pulling back to look at him, "that's not going to happen."

"I'm willing to try to trust you about that, if you're willing to try to trust me," he said with a shrug. "I really want this," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "I promise to be good to you," he added, voice soft and pleading.

"Draco," he whispered again, wanting, wanting, wanting. "Yes."

"Yeah?" he asked, grinning brightly at him.

He nodded, "yeah. Yes, if you're sure."

"Harry, there is nothing not to be sure about. I love you. You love me. We'll figure the rest out."

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

written for the @flufftober prompt "Corn Maze"

[mistywaves98]

✧･ﾟ:* ->Bully! Xiao x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Modern AU, Non con, dark themes, slight yandere, Dacryphilia, Edging turned to Overstimulation, Repitition of words, Dumbification, Forced stuff, Non consensual groping, Fingering, Degradation, I think that's it!

✧･ﾟ:* -> Week 3 of my 400 special! I tried to write some detailed descriptions but I don't think they came out well...hope you enjoy anyway!

✧･ﾟ:* Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

✧･ﾟ:* Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

He didn't really know why he disliked you so much. Was it because you were at the top of the class? Hmph, teacher's pet. Maybe it was because you had friends, but he was probably the only person in the school that didn't have any. Or perhaps it was the way you were so fucking perfect. Too perfect, everytime he looked at you he wanted to ruin you, to wipe that blinding smile of your face, to rip those expensive outfits you wore, to destroy your reputation among your classmates. But at the same time, he wanted to get close to you, to get to know you and eventually have you under him, squirming in pleasure as his cock plunges in an out of you. Such thought makes his heart flutter but then the actual sight of you makes him want to throw up.

So what does he do? Why make your live a living hell of course! Roughly shoving you against lockers whenever he passed next to you, refusing to help or lend you anything to you in class or in general, always making snide comments whenever you did something clumsy or stupid. His favourite was tripping you up in the cafeteria in front of everyone, seeing the tears flow down your face in humiliation as you look up at him briefly before running out filled him with a sick sense of joy.

Soon you'd find none of your friends wanted to speak to you, in fact, none of your classmates, especially the guys, wanted anything to do with you. Because guess what, a certain someone was spreading rumors about you being nothing but a slut who only gets close to guys to have sex with them and nothing you said could change their minds. And that certain someone just happens to be the only one that 'cares' about your existence. 'Caring' meaning the bullying the life out of you even more, and what was worse was that now everyone laughed with him whenever he decided to humiliate you, which seemed to be happening a lot ever since you've become a loner.

And just when you thought life couldn't get any worser, your teacher told you you'd be staying in the same dorm as him. Upon hearing those words your face dropped and your head snapped in his direction only to be met with a smile that sent feelings of dread down your spine. It was as bad as you expected it to be. He made you do all the chores, saying that unless you wanted him to ruin your life even more than he already has you can go ahead and try to defy him.

But the weird thing was that Xiao seemed to get rather, touchy ever since you became roommates with him. Sure you had your own room and bed to sleep in, but he would always force you to sleep with him instead. You didn't like the idea at all but there was nothing you could do to free yourself from the two arms secured firmly around your stomach and the more you struggled the more bone- crushing it became. But that wasn't even the worst part. Often he would randomly latch on to you and literally feel you up like if you were lovers. He was so smug when he did it too, knowing that you knew that if you told anyone, you'd really be in for it. It happened a lot when you were cleaning the dorm as well. You'd be on all fours, scrubbing the floor before you feel two hands cage you in and something hard press against your ass. You've told him many times to stop but he'd never listen, saying that if you didn't want it, why the fuck were you so wet?

It was a lovely Saturday morning...key word, was. It probably still be one if you weren't pinned to the floor on your back with your bully on top of you, fingers plunging in and out of your pussy like there was no tomorrow. Sweat covered your body and dropped down your face, everything felt too hot. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten and you were just about to release when you felt the movement in your pussy stop. You whined pathetically, tears staining your face once more as you were denied yet another orgasm for what felt like the 5th time tonight.

A chuckle came from the male above you,"Aww, do you wanna cum? I thought you didn't want that? Now you do? Maybe if you beg hard enough or maybe if I feel like it I can give you what I want, but personally, I simply can't get enough of you when you're like this." "P-please...please let me cum, I-I promise I'll be good." "Hmm....since I feel like it I'll let you cum, but next time I won't be so nice."

And then the fingers were once again shoved into your pussy, sloppily moving in and out until you felt the build up of another orgasm. Your back arched as you finally achieved that sweet, sweet release that you were kept from. Your legs spasmed and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as your juices coated the carpet beneath you. You tried to move, only to be pulled back down by Xiao who had a frown on his face,"Don't think you can just take your pleasure and then leave selfish slut."

You felt dread pooling in the pit of your stomach as you felt him press the head of his cock that was already soaked with pre cum against your entrance. With no warning, he snapped his hips forward, bottoming out instantly. Two fingers were immediately forced into your mouth to somewhat muffle your scream of pain. "Hmph. I thought I prepared you enough, but you're still as tight as ever. If I didn't know better, I'd still think you were a virgin." A smirk graced his features and you knew why.

As soon as you admitted you hadn't had sex yet, Xiao pounced on you like a predator would do to its prey. Him being the first one to touch you like this was an opportunity he wasn't going to let slip by. He took so much delight in corrupting your inexperienced self and he didn't bother to hide it.

You were brought out of your reminiscing when he began to move. His thrusts were so fast and filled with so much force your body rocked back and forth. It wasn't long before you knew he was getting close to orgasming, you could tell from the way he slowed down a bit, but managed to hit somewhere deep inside of you. You whimpered as he bit into your neck hard, your hands flew to weakly grasp his sweaty hair as he sucked on the blood the trickled out of the wound.

When he was satisfied with the mark he made, he licked a long stripe from the hickey to right under your jaw. He pressed a few light kisses to the area, removing his fingers before connecting both of your lips in a hungry kiss. Teeth clacked against each other and his tongue dove into your mouth, exploring every inch of it.

Suddenly there was an explosion of warmth in your lower region and you realized he had finally came, but the determined look on his face told you that he wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

And for what felt like hours, orgasm after orgasm was pulled from your abused cunt, you clawed at the floor mindlessly feeling your brain turn to mush everytime you came. Your face was downright laughable, to Xiao anyway. You looked so fucked out and he loved it. He loved the way your legs twitched and spasmed even when you weren't cumming, he loved how you couldn't even form a coherent sentence, he loved how broken and worn down you looked in front of him.

And in the end, no one would ever guess Xiao was doing such things, to you especially, not with the way he seemed to completely despise you when in public, if only they saw what went on behind closed doors...

[poppadom0912]

Money, Money, Money

Characters: Connor Rhodes x Reader, Maggie, Will

Warnings: Canon-typical injuries, overbearing/toxic parents, lots of violence, pregnancy.

Summary: Having money doesn't entitle you to anything. Why don't your parents understand that?

A/N: Haven't written for Connor in a lonnnggg time so here I am. I have mixed feelings about this but enjoyyyy. Posting this today in commemoration of my twin cousins turning one.

*****

Today was just so jam-packed in the ED that it was ridiculous.

One minute, your treating a woman whose half conscious from a car accident and the next your being handed a John Doe who is better off dead than hooked to a bunch of expensive machines.

You were always on your feet, not even having a second to yourself to sit down on a chair at the nurses station. It also really didn't help that Med had been handed a fresh new bunch of students who were all around the place, not knowing what they were doing.

Ripping off your gloves you deeply exhaled, closing your eyes as you stood in the middle of the ED. Everything around you was still a mess but all you needed was two minutes to collect yourself before-

"Doctor Rhodes, Doctor Y/L/N, you're on!" Maggie shouted from across the emergency room, sending you her most apologetic smile while she shrugged, having no control over what happened which you knew and definitely didn't blame her for.

Hastily grabbing what felt like your millionth pair of latex gloves, you assisted the paramedics and Connor wheeling the stretcher into a treatment bay, transferring on his count.

Everything was as it usually was, working together to stabilise the patient who was only half alert. From a mile away, you could smell the stench of alcohol, letting everyone know of what led the man to his current situation. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the gurney, allowing a few nurses and orderlies wheel the now unconscious man for an mri.

Aggressively, you ripped of your gloves, chucking it into the bin, Connor following suit, chuckling at your sour face. The only good thing you had going for you right now was having a five minute lie in with your fiance early this morning. Five minutes wasn't long at all but it was all you and peanut needed to fuel you for the long 24-hour shift ahead of you.

Right, you still had another 18 hours left till you could go home. Just flipping perfect.

You felt like collapsing, your body exhausted but the sickly people of Chicago relied on you. With a quick departing kiss on the forehead, squeezing your hand several times, you watched with warmness in your chest as your very attractive man ran off in those very nice black scrubs.

*****

It was an honest to god miracle that everything slowed down. You finally got to sit down, even managing to have a quick snack before checking in on patients. There was also the regular conversation over your baby, all the doctors and nurses betting on the gender while your closest friends pretended they weren't up for potential godparents.

You decided to do a quick round, going around to see if your patients were up and moving, if not then you'd offer your service somewhere it was needed.

At some point during the day, you lost track of how many people came in meaning you forgot who had what and who they were. With a tablet in hand, you scrolled through the man's chart, humming to yourself as you familiarised yourself with both his medical history and his current state, remembering what happened when you saw his blood alcohol levels.

What you failed to notice, too busy reading, was the man who you now know was called Nick was slowly coming to. Not a peep came out of him, blinking as he looked around the room, you being the last thing he noticed.

It all happened so fast from what you could recollect. All of a sudden, he sat up, not even groaning in pain from the several injuries he sustained while drunk and high.

"Nick, I'm a doctor, your in a hospital. No one's going to hurt you." You tried assuring him, jumping back when he lurched forward, forcing himself to stand, his unstable legs holding all of his weight. "You hurt yourself okay? You mind getting back into the bed?"

Despite your gentle and understanding tone, your bedside manner being top notch, Nick didn't even consider listening to you. You could almost see the flaming red flash across his eyes but before you could do anything, he came towards you.

With such a fury, his hand gripped your neck tightly, pushing you against the medicine cupboard that only this room had. Repeatedly, he pushed you into the glass door which shattered upon impact.

Gasping, you tried kicking your feet out but unfortunately for you, your short stature was not helping you were held inches above the ground. Scratching at his hand, your nails digging into his skin, he wouldn't let go.

You were incoherent, not even managing to shout or scream from the extreme pressure against your throat. Inhaling through your nose, you screwed your eyes shut when you saw a blurry fist flying towards you.

Everything was happening so fast but all of a sudden, you could breathe, air entering your lungs like a tsunami but before you could recollect yourself, not even letting your brain register that you were dropped to the floor, you were once again picked up and smashed against the sliding glass doors.

The glass broke on impact, shattering into small shards almost like crystals. Your cries were broken, the punches rolling one after the other.

*****

After having a quick surgery consult, assuring a patient that this surgery would happen, Connor was content. It was finally his lunch and he wasn't needed anywhere which meant that he could see his beautiful fiancée. Hopefully, you could spare a few minutes and he could check up on you and his baby.

The ED was much more quiet, almost too quiet in comparison to the chaos it was drowning in over an hour ago. Whistling, he leaned his arms against the nurses desk, giving Maggie his most dashing smile that all the girls of Chicago swooned over.

"Your fiancée is in six, give her five minutes." She said without taking her eyes off her brick, knowing exactly what the surgeon wanted without him even having to ask.

Before Connor could thank the charge nurse, he was interrupted by the deafening sound of glass shattering, his head whipping around to the source of the sound.

It was when it flashed in his mind that the room with the now shattered door was treatment six that Connor ran towards the mess.

Will and Ethan also came running forward, the two of them pulling Nick away from you while Connor shielded you as best as he could from any further harm.

"Y/N? Honey, you with me?" Connor asked, taking note of your fluttering eyelids and your cracking groan. He held you in his arms, feeling around the back of your head, his fingers coated in your blood.

Lifting you onto a gurney without any help, you were wheeled into a separate treatment room, Connor not once leaving your side and no one tried to pry him away knowing that it would only further anger him.

"Connor?" You tried calling out, struggling to keep your eyes open. "The baby..."

"Is fine, wasn't hurt at all." Connor sighed in relief, handing back the ultrasound wand to a nurse once he was happy with the sight of your baby who was alive and kicking.

Will nodded at Connor, letting him know everything that he needed. Picking up the railing on the side of the gurney, Connor wasn't leaving your side, wheeling wheel you up for an mri.

"You're going to be just fine."

*****

Coming to was more painful than you wanted it to be but because of the growing life inside your womb, you could only take so much medication which you knew and understood but you couldn't help curse out whoever was up there watching everything.

"The baby?" Was the first thing that came out. Your voice was hoarse, your throat aching as it strained from each syllable.

"Is alive and kicking." Connor nodded with a tight-lipped smile, helping you drink some water. "The lack of oxygen only hurt you, not peanut."

"Good, that's good." You closed your eyes, nodding in relief that no harm came to your baby because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if they were hurt.

"You scared me." Connor whispered, enveloping your hand in both of his, not bothered by how cold you felt. "Don't ever do that again."

"I can't make any promises." You replied with remorse, wanting nothing more than to promise him but medicine was unpredictable, especially when mixed with drugs and alcohol. "I'll try my best though."

"And that's all I ask for." Connor smiled, pressing several kisses on your knuckles.

"Uh, you've got a few visitors anxiously waiting for you outside, what do you want me to do with them?" Your fiance asked, chuckling as he remembered the gaggle of doctors waiting outside in anticipation. They were all pretending to work but found themselves staring at the treatment room you were in.

But before you could answer with a yes, wanting nothing more than to see your friends, you cut off by the loud shout coming from outside the room, at the entrance of the ED. Unfortunately for you, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

"Where is my daughter?!" The voice near screamed, oozing with so much urgency that it made you feel sick. It was all so fake that even a stranger could see it.

You could only hear just how much of a commotion was being created outside your room, you and Connor shared a knowing glance, both of your mirroring the others annoyance.

Maggie's desperate attempts of steering the newcomers away from your room was useless. The doors and curtains were pulled opened and you were met with the apologetic faces of your friends and the furious faces of your parents.

"Oh my God, what happened to your face?!" Your mother said in alarm, rushing to your bedside as fast as she could in heels, her slim fingers gripping your chin to inspect all the visible damage to your face.

"Ow! Ma, that hurts!" You winced, pushing her hands away from your face, not wanting her to touch you anymore. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Your mother huffed, her dull eyes looking over at Connor, rolling her eyes at him before looking back over at you. "Where's your supervisor? You getting hurt isn't enough for your boss to come check on you?"

Before anyone could retort back, more than prepared to defend your boss, you were all stopped by a new presence that wasn't there before standing in the door.

"I'm glad that you could make it Mr and Mrs Y/L/N. I was worried you wouldn't make it taking into account your busy schedules." Ms Goodwin said, the sass dripping off her words, her smile welcoming but also smug. "If you could come with me to my office and we could talk specifics if you'd like?"

"I'd be perfect to do it right here actually." Your mother said, puffing out her chest with confidence she always had surrounding her. "You'll find our lawyers at your doorstep tomorrow morning with a lawsuit."

"What?!" You exclaimed, sitting up straight, ignoring your bruised and battered body screaming for you to stop moving. Despite all the pain, you were ready to throttle your parents.

As gently as he could, Connor pushed you back down without further causing your any pain. Ignoring your rolling eyes and your pout, he was relentless and succeeded in his doings. After doing so, he stood and glared at your parents.

"You mind if we talk outside, just the four of us?" Connor asked but it wasn't so much a question than it was a demand. Without waiting for a reply, your fiance held the door open for your parents and Ms Goodwin, sending the couple a tight lipped smile when they passed him.

“You have no right to be here.” Connor got straight to the point, not wanting to mess around when it came to you. Your parents were spoiled and entitled, thinking they could do whatever they wanted to whoever just because they had more money.

You’d long distanced yourself from them, no longer wasting your time wanting their approval and constant validation for every little thing you did. After years, you were free of their shackles but they always found a way to crawl back in.

This was one way they planned to become part of your life again.

“You will walk out of here, you will get rid of the press that I’m sure is waiting outside and you’re never going to show your faces here again because if you do, I’m not going to be as cordial.” Connor warned your parents, towering over your mother even with the heels she wore.

Your mother tutted, slowly shaking her head in disappointment. She was fully aware of the audience they had, all consisting of your true family and you boss standing to the side but some Rhodes man wasn’t going to get in the way of her achieving her goal.

“You are in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do. That’s my daughter, I gave birth to her.” Your mother fought back, not afraid to get into Connors face.

“Mrs Y/L/N, step away from my doctor.” Ms Goodwin said with authority, gently pushing Connor back. “Your not welcome in my hospital if your going to treat my doctors which such disrespect.”

Your mother scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief about they way she was being treated with such hostility. Something was clearly wrong here with how people took orders and did what they pleased.

“Now if you please leave, it’d be greatly appreciated.” Miss Goodwin said with finality, a smug smile on her lips when she realised she was getting her way.

Huffing, your mother burned holes into Connor, openly glaring at him, not hiding that she hated him. Scanning the room, her glare remained strong as her eyes landed on each doctor and nurse.

Giving Connor one last look from over her shoulder, you mother stormed out the ED, your father trailing behind her like the lost puppy he practically was at this point.

Everyone could breath easier, the air feeling lighter and less contaminated the second your parents left the ED. It was the biggest relief.

“Doctor Rhodes, please get back to your fiancée.” Miss Goodwin turned to the surgeon, giving him a very simple order that he wouldn’t object to.

Connor silently thanked his boss, smiling at her before coming back into your treatment room where you still sat, patiently waiting for your fiancé to come back.

“Do I even want to know what happened?” You asked, a small smile resting in your lips as you urged Connor to come forward and give you a hug.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about baby. Everything’s been dealt with.”

[lvrsparadise]

'AFTER DARK' - M.S

Synopsis - “But… why do you hate that you like it?” "Because I'm supposed to hate you! And I can't do that when I'm in love with you!"

Warnings! - Profanity, kissing, arguing, Nick and Chris r kinda asses, use of Y/N, crying, name calling (not directly though), crying.

A/N - I was listening to 'After Dark' and I thought about something I had written down but lost but I still remember the plot. This is so long😭 Although, please enjoy ! ♡

You and Matt had been at each other's throats since you guys met.

He'd say one thing and it would lead to either a small banter or an actual yelling match. But with you two, it was unpredictable what was going to happen.

Lately you two have been a little more smiley with each other, still bantering a lot, but sometimes playfully.

----

Matt was in his room, and I'm sitting in the living room, watching the same show I had on when Nick and Chris went out to eat with Madi and Laura.

Soon enough, I got bored and paused the episode and walk to Matt's room.

He doesn't look up from his phone but sighs.

"Get out."

I just shake my head and plop down in his chair at his desk, drumming my fingers on the arms of it lightly.

"Nah. I'm bored."

He groans. “Why are you in my room?”

"Entertainment? I guess." I sigh and shrug.

"I got bored in the living room by myself. Nick and Chris went out to dinner with Madi and Laura and left me here."

“So, they just… left you here?” His eyes widen a little. He puts his phone down on his bed next to him.

I shrug and look down at his desk at the keyboard and little pieces of candy wrapper trash. 

"I guess. "

"Well, why didn't you with them?"

I shrug again and cross my arms on the desk, avoiding messing up his keyboard.

"Just, wasn't in the social mood."

I'm thankful he can't see me right now. Even when I walked in, he never looked at me. Thank God. I feel like I look absolutely terrible. I feel exhausted and drained. I have no real reason to feel this way, but I guess emotions are just difficult.

I hear him sigh and hear the small 'thunk' of his head pressing against the headboard.

"Whay are you still here? You need something?"

I just shrug again, knowing he can't see me.

"Not really. Just don't want to be alone I guess."

I lay my head on my arms, closing my eyes. Laying my head down like you would on a desk at school.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Entertain you?" Matt's voice rings from behind the chair.

"I'm not expecting anything. I just didn't want to be alone. Is that such a hard thing to understand?" My voice firm and muffled by the way my face is buried in my arms.

I know I can't see him, but I can hear the eye roll in his voice.

"Why can't you just get out? Find something else to do other than be a fucking bug." He grumbles the last part, but I can hear it clearly.

I sigh frustratedly and stand up from the chair walking to his door. 

"Fine. I'll just go fuck myself then." I grumble as I swing the door open and walk out of it, out of his room. Just like he wanted.

He puts up his hands in disbelief and just stares after you. Once you leave, he sits up, and buries his head back into his hands. He sighs a little louder, and his voice is more strained.

“Stupid…” he mutters.

-

I walk back into the living room, plopping down on the chase and curling up in one of the many blankets that are strewn across the length of the couch and grab my phone.

I open up Instagram and start to go through everyone's stories, just to get everything out of the way. I click onto Nick's story and see a picture of not just him, Chris, Madi and Laura. But of all of my friends. And that hits deep.

I scrub a hand over my face with a sigh before clicking off of the story and closing out Instagram entirely.

For some reason, I feel sad knowing that I'm not there.

I feel my breathing pick up slightly and tears well in my eyes. I tighten my grip on my phone, my knuckles white, and close my eyes for a second, making the tears fall down my face.

My mind drifts back to the only other person in the house. The same person I have a love/hate relationship with.

After a few minutes of playing some weird iOS game, I hear footsteps coming from Matt's room. Then I feel the couch behind me sink.

He doesn't say a word. Just sits there.

I immediately notice his presence but decide to ignore it until I can't. My back is turned to him.

"What do you want?" I grumble, not turning around or turning my head to look at him.

He puts his head on the back of the couch. His shoulders are slouched, and his expression is… blank.

“I don’t know, I felt bad.”

I snort softly at his words.

"Since when do you feel bad for me? Yeah right." I mumble the last part to myself.

His eyes narrow a little. I can tell he heard me, but it's all silent for a few moments.

"It was rude that they just left you here." He shrugs, and his tone is... a little less rude than his normal snarky and sharp one.

"Yeah, well it's fine. I don't mind." I mutter and sniffle to clear my stuffy nose from crying.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at the back of your head.

“Do you have a cold, or something?”

"Oh, yeah. No, I'm fine." I keep my back turned to him, but I drop my phone and use the sleeve of my zip-up to wipe my nose and cheeks.

“Are you sure? Cause it kinda looks like you’re crying.” His voice is a little gentler than I'm used to hearing.

"I'm fine, Matt." My voice firmer and a bit louder than I was speaking.

He notices the change in tone, and he sounds a little sterner.

“You know, this is exactly why we can't be friends. You won't tell me what's going on when I ask, and then you get all defensive and mean when I do notice that something's wrong.” He crosses his arms tight, and he looks forward again.

"Well, maybe I don't tell you because you're usually the reason why." I sniffle again and try to breathe through the upcoming wave of emotions. My voice cracking slightly.

His eyes widening a little and he looks at you, his expression soft with regret.

"Am I the one who made you cry?"

His eyes stay soft, and he looks really concerned.

I sigh and shake my head, picking up my phone and pulling up the photo of Nick and the others.

"Not this time." I exhale sharply. My voice quieter than my previous tone and strained from me trying not to cry again.

He looks at you for a few more moments, and his face softens even more.

“What happened..?” He speaks as gently as he can.

I reach my phone out with a photo from Nick's story of him, Chris, Madi, Laura, Sab, Ari, and Oliver sitting at a table with big smiles on their faces.

I feel him grab the phone from my hand and presumably try to look at it better.

He looks at the phone screen, then looks back at you.

“They didn’t invite you?..”

I sit up on the couch, moving to a sitting position instead of laying and kick the blanket off me.

I chuckle dryly.

"And what's worse... is that it's my birthday today. I mean, I don't usually celebrate it but, it's my birthday and all of my friends are out without me." I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my kneecaps.

His head snaps up to my face, his brows low.

"Wait, it's your birthday...? And you're alone?"

I sniffle and rub my eyes. 

"Like I said, I don't mind anymore. But I just go so overwhelmed earlier when you told me to leave your room, I just started crying and my mind drifted back to that whole fact and I just-" I just sigh and put my forehead on my knees while closing my eyes, shaking my head softly.

His eyebrows raise.

“You don’t… mind being alone on your birthday?” His expression softens a bit when he watches you put your head on your knees.

I just shrug again and breathe in through my nose sharply.

"Wouldn't be the first time." I mumble to myself but instantly realizing Matt heard it.

His voice is a little softer, and he sounds concerned?

“Why are you so okay with being alone? Is it a defense mechanism or…?” He just looks at me, waiting for an answer.

"I never really got much attention as a kid. I was basically forced into isolation most of my childhood."

I lift my head and rest my cheek on my knee, my head turned to Matt.

His expression softens and he looks at the ground, listening carefully.

“Was it… hard? Being alone like that?”

His eyes move up to meet mine. The eye contact being genuine and not as snarky as usual.

"Sometimes. My older sister, Izzy, was the only person who ever paid attention to me and made sure I had everything I needed for like school and stuff." I straighten my legs out and lean my head on his shoulder.

He looks at you for a moment, but when he sees where you put your head, his entire expression softens. His eyes glance at you before he looks down at his own lap.

“I don’t like you being alone on your birthday… you deserve to be celebrated.”

"Well, I'm not alone. I mean, you're here, aren't you?" My voice calm and filled with an emotion not even I can identify.

“I mean… yes. I am here. But I… I don’t feel like that’s enough.”

His voice is soft and gentle. Whatever emotion is filling the air right now, he must feel it too.

"To me, one person is better than nobody. So, to me, as a person who has spent quite a few birthdays alone, that is more than enough." I slightly nuzzle my head onto his shoulder more comfortably.

His eyes stay focused on your face. He hesitates for a moment, then shifts a little closer to you.

I feel his arm wrap around my shoulders, and smiles when I nuzzle into his shoulder.

After a few moments of silence, I speak up.

"This is comfortable." I mumble as I shift around to drape my legs over his and rest my head on his shoulder, closer to his chest.

"This is comfortable…." He mumbles.

He hums quietly, the action vibrating his chest and calming me down even more. I feel him rub his hand up and down my arm, and his other one draped across my waist, holding my body close to his.

I slowly let my eyes drift shut. I bring my hand to rest on his chest next to my head. I bend my knees a little and move closer to him, if possible. Suddenly feeling even more exhausted than before.

He smiles when he feels one of your hands on his chest, and he holds you even closer to him. He lets a few seconds pass, but his brain is moving a mile a minute.

"Can I… do something?" he whispers, his voice a little strained.

I nod once against his chest, the movement slowed from my fatigue.

A beat later I feel the hand that's wrapped around my shoulders lightly carding through my hair, gently massaging my scalp.

I hum in content and snuggle closer to his body, yearning for his warmth.

After a while of just lying there, I feel myself lulling into a very inviting rest. The motion of his hands in my hair, and his warmth and the way his arms are wrapped around me are enough to make me drift off into a restful sleep, my breathing evening out.

-Matt's POV-

I lay there holding her in my arms, listening to her breathing. Feeling her chest rise and fall.

"You fell asleep on me..." I mumble and run my fingers through her hair one last time before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

I keep glancing down to see if she's woken up yet, but she looks s peaceful... I hope she's comfortable.

I lay there for a few more minutes doing nothing in particular, just looking at her in this peaceful state. I can't believe I could hate her. I think I only didn't like her because I've never seen this side of her before.

After a few more minutes, I shift around so I'm holding her bridal style, her head not moving from where it's rested on my collarbone.

Slowly I make it to my room and set her down on my bed, putting the comforter over her body and then sliding in behind her, slinging my arm around her waist and holding her to me.

I breathe in her scent and feel myself lulling off.

--MORNING-- -Y/N's POV-

I wake up, instantly feeling arms around me, holding me tightly, and breathing on the back of my neck.

At first, I'm alarmed but then I open my eyes and see I'm in Matt's bed.

'How did I end up in his bed??'

"Mm..." I hear from behind me.

I look around the bed for one of our phones, but neither are in sight.

"What time is it...??" I mumble to myself before giving up my search, concluding I had left mine on the couch last night.

"Shh... It's still early.." Wow tired sounds good on him.

He doesn't sound that awake yet, his voice a bit strained. I feel him nuzzle farther into the back of my neck, gently pressing a small kiss to the base of it.

I feel my cheeks heat up from the feeling of his lips on the back of my neck. I shift around to where I'm facing him. I brush a few strands of his hair from his eyes. 

"Sleepy looks good on you..." I mumble to no one in particular. Just stating a fact.

He slowly begins to open his eyes, his expression still sleepy and calm. He looks into my eyes, the little bit of sun peeking from the cracks in his blinds shining on his eyes in just the right way. His eyebrows raise a little bit, and I can see a small blush make its way across his cheeks.

"Morning..." His voice sounding softer than I've ever heard from him. Is he... smiling? It's hard to tell.

I allow myself to gaze at his entire face, inspecting every little thing. My gaze lingers on his lips for a moment before I meet his eyes again. 

"Morning." I smile softly, not minding this kind of contact or interaction.

He just stares at me for a second, his eyes still looking tired and a smile finding its way to his face.

After a minute or two of us looking at each other, I feel the warmth of his hands leaving my sides, making me frown lightly. He sits up, leaning against the headboard, and rubs his eyes.

"D'You sleep well? You probably weren't comfortable using me as a pillow." He chuckles quietly. His voice still quiet and laced with sleepiness still, the blush not as visible, but still there.

"I was, very comfortable. But may I ask how I ended up in the bed? I fell asleep on the couch... I think." I roll onto my back and sit up a little bit, laying my upper back on the pillows, putting a bit of distance in between us.

"Yeah, I um... I carried you to my bed..." His smile disappears and his cheeks flush, changing color from the blush. He looks at his hands in his lap, seemingly avoiding my eyes.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable? I don't know..." His voice trailing off, shaking his head softly.

I clear my throat and move to a sitting position, like him, leaning against the headboard also.

"Well, uh... either way thanks for... y'know, being there last night. I kind of liked the side of Matt I saw last night." I send him a small grin, despite him not looking at me for a few more moments.

He seems to perk up at my words, once finally registering what I had said.

"You.... liked seeing me last night...?" His face flushes again and he turns his head to me, a smile on his face.

I don't think I've ever seen his smile directed towards me. Always to his brothers, family, and friends. But having him smile at me feels... special. Like it's all for me.

"Yeah." I smile softly, looking down at my lap where my hands are folded together.

"That was probably one of the only times you didn't call my annoying or a bitch." I look back at him.

"So, yeah. I liked seeing the nice Matt." My smile drops a little.

"And I am sorry for being such a pain in the ass. I guess I can be kind of... persistent at times. And nagging." I slightly shrug one shoulder and pick at some of the fuzzies on my sweatpants.

His eyebrows raise again, and he looks straight at me.

"You really are something else... I didn't think you knew how to apologize!" He smiles playfully at me, but his comment hurts.

I swear I feel my heart break a little. I feel the tips of my ears warm up, and my face gets warm from the overcoming feeling of wanting to cry.

I clench my jaw and ball my left fist up, my nails digging into my palms. I move to sit on the edge of his bed and stare down at the hardwood floor.

"I think I'm going to head back to my place."

I can feel the smile drop from his face when he speaks, sounding shocked.

"Wait, what? It's still kind of early, why would you want to go already?"

I clear my throat and stand up.

"I've been over here for a week already; I should go back so I could clean up anything my roommates might've messed up." I zip my hoodie up all the way and walk to his door, not sparing him a glance, his comment hurting more than it should. I open the door and step out into the kitchen.

I hear him slide off of his bed and follow me out to the kitchen.

"Wait, don't leave. We have to talk about...." He trails of lightly. I can feel his gaze on me as I shuffle around looking for my wallet, keys and shoes.

"You and I.... We have to talk. About us..."

That makes me stop in my tracks, in the middle of the living room. I turn around to ace him.

"What is there to talk about?!" My voice strained and high pitched. Almost whiny in a 'I'm about to cry' way.

"So what? I had a moment of weakness, and you were there! Why does that have to change anything?" I throw my arms up and feel my throat starting to tighten.

"And- And just because I 'know how to apologize', doesn't mean shit! So, please tell me. I'm all ears. What is there to talk about?" I put the words in air quotes, because the way he said it, hurt my feelings. And especially after I tried to be the better person and own up to what I do and apologize for it.

His eyes narrow a little, and his voice sounds annoyed.

"Just because you had a moment of weakness doesn't mean you can just suddenly leave! There is more for us to talk about! Especially after last night."

It's obvious he's trying to keep his cool. Like he doesn't want to snap. But honestly, if he did snap, I wouldn't care. His eyes are sharp and focused as usual, but a hint of that softness from when we woke up is still faintly there.

"Nothing happened Matt! I was alone, so I went to your room, then you kicked me out of your room, and I got sad and started crying and you were the only one around! Plus, if you really fucking wanted to, which I wouldn't put it past you, you could've left me to cry alone! Laughed in my face! Called me another insult! You could've done anything! But you didn't. You stayed. And you comforted me until I fell asleep! That's all the fucking happened!" I moved closer to him. Every word I speak is accentuated by a jab of my finger to his chest.

My voice has raised a little and I'm getting angry now. My breathing has started to get a little bit faster because of the immense amount of frustration and anger I feel.

He lets out small grunts at every jab of my finger.

"Stop it! Just... stop it. You are so impossible to work with." He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, but it's clear I've plucked a nerve. And good, not what I was going for, but a win is a win.

"You don't want to talk about last night because deep down, you know that you liked what you saw, but you don't want to admit it." He goes quiet and steps back, putting distance between us.

"Maybe I do like it! Maybe that's why I'm choosing to ignore it! Because I liked it! And I hate that I liked it. I hate that I let it happen. I hate that I allowed myself to cry in front of you. I hate how perfect you look, even when you're yelling at me. I hate how blue your eyes are and how much they remind me of the ocean. I hate how you can do what you want in my life, and I allow it! Because I like it!" I can feel tears of frustration spilling down my face. My eyes are wide and firm with anger and frustration. My lips twisted in a flat line, nostrils flared, and face flushed from anger and crying.

He seems to be caught off guard. His mouth slightly agape, watching my emotions switch back and forth all at the same time, looking speechless.

"O-oh..." I faintly hear him mumble. He looks...confused?

He takes a few small steps towards me, his voice so inviting.

"But... why do you hate that you like it?" His words come out in a whisper, his tone gentle, his eyes soft and calm, his face kind and inviting. He looks slightly nervous.

"Because I'm supposed to hate you! And I can't do that when I'm in love with you!" I accidently shout the words, and then immediately regret that. My eyes get impossibly wider, and my hands fly over my mouth.

He takes another step back, his jaw dropping lower. He stares at me for a few seconds, not saying anything, which makes worry churn in my stomach.

He blinks a couple times before he clears his throat and closes his mouth.

"Did- Did I hear you correctly...?"

"Fuck!" I ball my hands into fists and press the heels of my hands against my forehead and push my back against the closest wall, sliding down it to where I'm sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest.

I let out a few choked sobs and mumbles of curses before nodding.

"Yeah." My voice quiet and hoarse. I sniffle and squeeze my eyes shut for a second and open them again, dropping my hands to my sides.

I watch as he walks over to me, dropping to his knees next to me and pushes my knees away from my chest. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders gently.

"Hey, hey... shh. Slow down. I'm not... I'm not going to judge. Just slow down. I'm right here." I hear him whisper. And feel him press a kiss to the top of my head.

"Don't panic. Just take a deep breath, let it all out. I'm right here."

That's all it takes for me to completely break down. Sobbing, and mumbling in between with hiccupped breaths. All the while he's stroking my hair and occasionally running his fingers through it.

"I'm so sorry." I manage to choke out between short breaths and sobs.

He presses another kiss to the top of my head and grabs one of my hands, his other hand rubbing my back in comforting patterns.

"You have no reason to be sorry... You're allowed to... to feel this way, okay? I'm not mad at you, and you shouldn't be mad at yourself either. Just... breathe with me, okay?" I feel his hold tighten, reminding me he's there.

I attempt to match his deep, calm breaths, but I can't. No matter how hard I try, I always end up hyperventilating after I cry.

My breathing starts to come out uneven, raggedly, too fast and choppy, making me lightheaded.

"Hey. Hey, look at me." He puts two fingers under my chin turning my head to face his.

"Breathe. Just breathe. Slowly in through the nose." He inhales slowly through his nose.

"Then slowly out through your mouth." He exhales slowly through his mouth.

"Do it with me. In."

Inhale slowly.

"Out."

Exhale slowly.

It's too difficult to match. But after many attempts, my breathing has slowed down and my head is no longer dizzy.

He watches as I control my breathing and return it to normal. Once it has returned to a normal pace, he lets go of my chin, leaving the area cold from where his fingers were.

"Good.... Deep breaths, that's right."

He lets out a small sigh and presses a kiss to my forehead before wiping my cheeks free of tears and tear stains.

"Can you tell me why you feel so bad about this?" He asks quietly.

"I don't even know. It just feels wrong, feeling this way. It feels like I'm supposed to see you as an annoying older brother but instead I developed feelings for you."

He hums gently, seeming to wrap his head around my words. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath then opening them and looking into my eyes.

"Look, just because you're supposed to see me as a brother doesn't mean you can't have feelings for me. It just changes the dynamic. And you can't blame yourself either." He shakes his head once.

"Because it's not your fault. Not one bit." He cups my cheek and wipes away a few stray tears with his thumb.

"How did you... How did you know you were in love with me...? I mean, how- what made you realize it?"

I sniffle and clear my throat, not wanting my voice to give out. I take another deep breath before speaking.

"Last night. When you stayed and comforted me in my so called 'moment of weakness'. When you didn't push my head of your shoulder. Or even just the fact that you listened to me last night. And the way you held me was..." I trail off, not knowing how to describe it. It was so comforting and calm the way he held me, it put me to sleep. Literally.

He beams that sweet smile out, lifting my spirits a little.

"Did- did you like being comforted last night?" His voice becoming soft, and delicate.

I nod and lick my suddenly dry lips.

"Yeah. Hearing you talk that softly was really nice. And I liked being in your arms." My voice a little nervous from having to admit this out loud.

He looks as though he's processing my words, like I can see the little loading circle above his head, and then when it clicks, his entire face lights up.

He stands up, holding his arms out.

"Come here." His voice a little firm and commanding, but still soft and sweet.

I slowly climb to my feet and just about throw myself into Matt's arms, wrapping my arms around his torso and his arms wrap around my neck and shoulders.

"About fucking time you two stopped denying shit."

We break away from the hug quickly and turn to the kitchen where Chris is standing rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

"God, are you two blind? You guys have been ogling each other when the other wasn't looking. It's been driving me insane. And now Nick owes me 400 bucks."

Matt groans and I roll my eyes and plop down on the couch with a small smile on my face as I feel the cushion next to me sink and then an arm is being draped across my shoulders and pulling close to him.

--

After a while, we make it back into his room.

We're laying on his bed, both of us on our phones, not really talking.

Out of nowhere, he drops his phone and turns to me.

"You want to go to dinner sometime?"

I lay my hands in my lap, turning my head to look at him.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Are you going to say no?"

"No."

"Then yeah, I'm asking you on a date."

I smile at the dorky tactics and roll my eyes playfully.

I grab the part where the strings of a hoodie are on his hoodie and pull him to me, our lips colliding in the middle.

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

Tags ! ✮

@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮ @mxqdii ✮ @thetriplets3 ✮

If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask !! ✮

I love all of you guys !

And I hope you all have a wonderful day and / or night ✮

[pablitogavii]

Doctora Pt. 2

Since many reached out to say they want a mini series, here it comes!

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Part 1 is HERE! <3

Pablo's POV

I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss and how her chapstick tasted like fresh strawberries on my tongue...fuck! I really wanted to kiss her again!

"¿Hola? Mundo a Pablo! You can pick your results after training" Xavi said and all I could think about was seeing her again not really knowing how to say that I want her to be mine.

"Gracias" I said and he smiled nodding approvingly as other guys joined us on the pitch.

"I can't believe we haven't heard you screaming from the changing rooms while getting your blood drawn" Pedri mocked me and I rolled my eyes still thinking about strategy for when I see her again. Should I play dumb and see what she does? But don't girls like confidence? Ugh! Es tan complicado!

"Ai! Ansu? Can I ask you something??" after training I seek some advice from one of my best friends still not deciding how I should act when I see her again. I haven't told him who I was talking about knowing that everyone on camp knows her but I presented him with a hypothetical scenario.

"Hermano, girls like to feel like they belong to a man who will pursue them tirelessly..so be possessive" were Ansu's exact words and I repeated them while walking towards the clinic.

When I came in and saw he laughing with one of the younger players while getting his blood drawn..I felt..jealous? Was she distracting him the same way she did with me!? Fuck! She can't do that with anybody else!

I came in with all my confidence on display as she turned around to safe me with that beautiful smile on her face. How can someone look so sexy in scrubs!? Focus cabrón!

"Hola nena" I said winking at her which certainly made the younger player angry but I didn't give a shit! He should know she is off limits and he has no chance against me!

"I will be right with you, let me just finish here first" she said which made the younger boy smirk this time and my jaw clenched as I sat down to wait for her to give me attention that I wanted right the fuck now!

Your POV

Pablo was angry, that much was clear from his demeanor when I came to give him his results. I was so nervous to look at him after the kiss we shared which I have to admit kept me craving for more.

He stood up after taking the paper walking towards the door and just when I expected him to leave without a word (probably forgetting about the kiss anyways), he locked the door walking back towards me.

He placed his paper on the table before going around to stand in fornt of me making me walk backwards until my back was glued to the wall and he was hovering over me dominantly.

"Um..what..are you doing Gavi?" I said with a shaken up voice which surely amused him as his smirk grew while his fingers raised up my chin like last time.

I closed my eyes expecting him to kiss me again (excited about it ofc!!) but just as our lips were inches from each other he spoke lowly.

"Did you miss me doctora??" he said and I opened my eyes blushing like crazy when I realized how close our faces were to each other.

"And..why..why would I miss you Gavi?" I said trying my best to be confident but his power was undeniable..he was making me nervous on purpose!

"Well..maybe because watching me in a sweaty uniform does things to you? Or maybe because you let me have a taste of those sweet lips of yours doctora?" Pablo was enjoying himself and I was a blushing mess staring from his eyes to his lips wondering if he craved to kiss me just as much as I craved to taste him again?

"Tell me something, preciosa..do you use the same distraction on other players too? Maybe ones from La Masia?" he said and I knew now why he was so angry before. Pablo Gavi was jealous! He was jealous after seeing me with that kid from La Masia. Now was my turn to make him nervous!

"So what if I do? I'm a free woman after all..." I smirked shocked when his hand wrapped around my throat and his lips came so close to mine that they touched as he spoke.

"Wanna try that again nena? You can only distract me like that!" he growled now completely ruining my panties while staring at my lips before kissing me again but this time with more force..like his life depended on it..and I loved every second of it!

We kept kissing one another for a few minutes like it was the most natural thing in the world before I realized that I needed to pull away and make him deserve me first!

"I should go back to work Gavi.." I said knowing that if he stayed here any longer..all hell would break loose probably ending in his suspension and me getting fired!

"Tu me vuelves loco nena.." he said resting his forehead again mine and I felt my heart speeding up as he leaned down and kissed me one last time before pulling away.

"I'm gonna need this. See you soon doctora" Pablo grabbed one of your visit cards with your phone number before leaving and making you finally breathe heavily trying to wrap your mind about what just happened.

Pablo's POV

As more days passed, and we spend nights face timing each other I got so hooked that seeing her face became a mandatory part of my day. We also agreed to be 'friends' whatever the hell that meant but I was letting it go slow for now not knowing how long I'll be able to resist kissing her again!

Also, my results showed that I will need to do some physical therapy but overall everything seems to be alright. I never felt happier to be told I will have to spend so much time at the clinic.

"So you know how you said last night that you couldn't wait for the new season to come out??" I said while she was applying some cold jelly on my thigh before my physical therapy. She looked so beautiful when she was focusing on a task like this!

"Mhm?" he said and I did my best not to get hard from feeling her hand on my inner thigh but it was getting quite hard to be honest. But these little sessions definitely made me crave her touch so damn much!

"I know a guy who sent it to me before it gets released. What do you say we watch it together tonight at my apartment?" I said seeing her eyes open wide as she comprehended the words leaving my mouth.

"No freaking way! The next season is coming out in almost two weeks!" she said and I smirked nodding my head knowing that I made an impossible bargain that she won't be able to refuse. Or I hoped she wouldn't refuse.

"I'm Pablo Gavi" I said proudly and she rolled her eyes making me groan in annoyance. She was definitely different..

"But if I do this..promise not to take me to your bed Gavi??" she said and I smirked making her chuckle before doing a pinky promise before she finally agreed. I was so excited but I acted cool while she was there.

I was manically cleaning my apartment when I returned from trianing waiting impatiently for her to call and tell me she is in front of the gates. Time never passed slower!

"Come in doctora!" I said escorting her inside as she took off her jacket making my mind go crazy at the sight of her in grey sweats and a tank top..this was the first time I saw her wearing no scrubs.

"What!? I didn't know there was a dress code. I kinda look homeless " she said making me laugh as we both walked to the living room.

"You look perfect.." words just slipped past my lips before I could stop them and she smiled sitting on the couch comfortably.

Your POV

I couldn't believe I was currently sitting next to Pablo Gavi in his apartment watching one of my favorite TV shows. Despite not showing it to him, I knew what a 'lady man' the boy was and was definitely a little star struck that he was pursuing me.

He kept his apartment pretty cold so my arms quickly filled with goosebumps which he noticed jogging to his room in the middle of an episode. He came back with his big Barca hoodie and my heart stared speeding up immediately.

"Gracias Pablo.." I used his name for the first time and it felt right especially seeing how he smiled when he heard it. I wore his hoodie which he definitely recently wore since it smelled so strong of his cologne as we continued to binge the episodes.

"I should probably head home..it's almost midnight!" I said completely loosing track of time not to mention that I was so sleepy that I had to lay my head on Pablo's shoulder to keep watching the end of the episode.

"But there are two more episodes..don't you wanna know how it ends??" he quickly replied and I really did want to see the ending but also not sure how I am going to drive back home at three in the morning.

"Are you sure??" I asked and he nodded smiling wide in reassurance.

"Tomorrow is day off so I can sleep in. No worries!" he said and I nodded as another episode began.

I didn't even notice when I fell asleep only waking up when he raised me up from the couch carrying me upstairs bridal style.

"Um..what's happening?" I said followed by a loud yawn that made me blush as he chuckled entering his bedroom..it was huge, with a king sized bed and his jersey on the wall.

"I'm taking you to my bed" he said and you felt your heart speeding up while your eyes were staring into his deeply.

"You promised.." I reminded him and he smiled kissing my forehead before laying me down in comfortable sheets that smelled like Pablo...I felt safe.

"I'm not letting you drive sleepy but don't worry, I will sleep on the floor if you need anything" he said tucking me in and I blushed smiling wide at his kind gesture.

It was the middle of the night when I woke up from how cold I was since Pablo took off my hoodie thinking I will be too warm under the blankets. Boy kept his room so cold, I felt like I was in Canada!

I stole glance at him sleeping on the floor fearfully getting up and laying down next to him getting insanely close immediately feeling warmer.

"Mm what a nice surprise doctora..." Pablo mumbled being cocky even when he just woke up and I rolled my eyes nuzzling my cold nose further into his neck.

"I'm cold!" I whine and he smirks wrapping his arms around my body before pulling me on top of him and rubbing my skin as I felt much warmer and started to again drift to sleep.

Hope you like it :)