#i got like no sleep so i have no filter. sorry or whatever

[gothprentiss]

there's a post i've seen maybe twice that's got i think at this point 20k notes. it's about how, like, fictional depictions of medieval women Get It All Wrong (true); how our notions of medieval misogyny are relics of the victorian age, not historical reality (eh??); how class is a more realistic way of understanding premodern womanhood than gender (to some extent!); and here are some ways you might consider writing medieval women, e.g. "tip #2: remember that for medieval women, wife and mother wasn’t the ideal, virgin saint was the ideal. By proving yourself “not like other girls” you could gain significant autonomy & freedom".

the idea that victorian people had particular essentialist ideas about the genders (e.g. the angel-in-the-house-style separate spheres philosophy) and either a) medieval people didn't, not to that extent or in that mode OR b) that has overdetermined our notion of what all the past looks like strikes me as more of a starting point than a conclusion.

like, okay, the idea that there was a singular ideal for women (and that it's virgin saint, lol), even just women in a particular period in a particular area of the medieval christian world-- that does run so categorically against the idea that class is more explanatory than gender here. what you might say, though, is that you can extrapolate this as the sole ideal for women from the historical record (i don't think you can, but let's play) as a result of class and social position. christine de pizan was a court scholar for numerous members of the french royal family. most of the writings that survive of medieval christian women are the products of either noblewomen or nuns. but second of all-- you can't say that the virgin saint was the female archetype rather than the mother or the wife. the virgin saint is literally both of those things: she figures the virgin mary, whose virginity is important because of her maternity; she figures the church, which is allegorically the bride of christ. it's also worth noting, of course, that the virgin saint (i.e. the nun, presumably?) is not the same sort of ideal as the wife or the mother in any material way.

all of this is emblematic about how much of the historical record works and is made to work. in terms of real, factual women who were either able to write at great length or written about with any interest, you have the inevitable upper-class bias, as the post tacitly notes: "Often as nuns, saints, mystics; sometimes as warriors, queens, & ladies; always as businesswomen & merchants, women could & did forge their own paths in life" (odd groupings). in drawing in literary sources, as studies of medieval womanhood always do, you have the additional problem of fabulation, which you are trying to read a theory of womanhood or at least an account of gender roles out of. (medievalists, due to the size and conservatism of the field, are also notably not very good readers when it comes to gender.) e.g. the post cites a thesis which is, as i am looking at it now, significantly about the roman de silence (reading it out of the context of hagiography and alongside the roman d'eneas). the desire for fiction to work as historical record is common in medievalism (really in all premodernism), and understandable, and has some foundation. it is rare to see this foundation meaningfully established in this work.

the other problem you have for the concept of medieval women-- whether you just want to, like, depict one, or have some baseline understanding of what their lives were like, or do them justice-- is the privileging of the individual and the outlier. "women could do this in the middle ages" is often a sentence backed up with, like, five truly good examples, one of them legendary. the desire for a history of empowered women gives you a certain kind of returns; the expectation of a history of misogyny gives you a certain kind of returns. this sort of "THIS IS HOW MEDIEVAL* WOMEN REALLY WERE (*LIMITED TO A SPECIFIC SETTING, AREA OF INTEREST, ETC.)" trumpeting is naturally not about all women of that particular context, and to do so-- beyond the really quite blunt-headed approach to the dynamism of both gender and misogyny-- strikes me as a great disservice to this object of study, delimiting womanhood to solely that of the wealthy and, by that same token, empowered. if nothing else it's certainly telling about the state of gender scholarship in pop medieval history (if not also medieval studies) that feminist interventions get you to about the mainstream scholarly feminism of the 80s, where gilbert and gubar write a whole book named for bertha mason that is only really interested in jane eyre.

[finely-tuned-line]

RP:

Log 236

FTL: ...No updates on either of the experiments. I haven't checked. I've been... thinking.

FTL: It's hard to say what I've been thinking about. Everything, I suppose. Echoes of a Paradox... Well, their rant directed at me has thrown everything off-kilter.

FTL: I don't- They're right. They're right. They must be. It all makes sense and yet- It doesn't. Well, it does. But-

FTL: Was I really that blind? Was I really that-

FTL: I can't think. I can't think about anything at all, it's all just going in circles, I need to figure this out, I'm wasting time.

FTL: Why am I wasting time? Why do I rush so much to get back to work, to keep- Because it's my purpose, it's what I do, it's why I exist. Therefore I must do my work.

FTL: I- I'd still be doing my job even if I didn't like it. Right? I mean, surely it's not just my- I have reasoning. I exist because of my purpose, therefore I must fulfill it, therefore I do so. That fact that I like my work doesn't matter all that much. Its doesn't.

FTL: I don't see any flaws in that logic, so how did I end up here? How did I end up hurting my family so much and not seeing it?

FTL: I need to get my thoughts in order. Pause. Don't think.

FTL: Alright, what did Echoes of a Paradox say?

FTL: They said that my mindset, specifically the careless comments, put pressure upon them and the other members of our Local Group to follow that mindset as well, despite the fact that that was not my intention.

FTL: Is this a possibly true thing?

FTL: Yes. Echoes of a Paradox has never lied to me before, they have no reason to do so, no outright falsities were clear within their words.

FTL: Was this intentional on my part?

FTL: No. I'd never willingly hurt any of them. My Local Group is my family, they're the people I'd never hurt. They're only joined by approximately two or three external others. I never did pause to see what the effects of my words were, perhaps because it was inconceivable to me that they could be harmful.

FTL: What else did Echoes of a Paradox say?

FTL: That my mindset of prioritising my purpose above all is unhealthy and pitiful and that I'm only harming myself by not breaking out of it.

FTL: Is this statement unique?

FTL: No. Echoes of a Paradox is not the first to share a similar sentiment and share it with me. The others being primarily LIFEGIVER and somewhat Upsilon.

FTL: Due to this not being an uncommon sentiment, is it a logical one?

FTL: No. No, it is not. Iterators are built to accomplish one or more tasks, disregarding that purpose even a bit renders the Iterator useless.

FTL: ...Do I apply that statement to anyone other than myself?

FTL: No. That belief is one that I hold only myself up to - others, whoever they are, can do whatever they wish to.

FTL: Is it logical to apply the statement to only myself?

FTL: No. I am not the only Iterator, that statement generalises all Iterators, which includes both myself and every other Iterator.

FTL: Why do I apply that belief to only myself?

FTL: ...I do not know. Perhaps it's a sense of only being able to control my own actions, of the fact that I'm the only one who appears to see that fact. If it even is a fact.

FTL: Why does everyone appear to be taking this mindset to be a negative one?

FTL: I do not know. It makes sense, there is no reason to disregard it the way that everyone does. It is a fact, denying it is rather pointless. We're - I'm - machines. Artificial Intelligences. Designed to fulfill tasks at the behest of our creators.

FTL: Why does anything else matter?

FTL: It doesn't make sense. That is the definition of my existence, why should I strive for anything outside of it even if my creators are long-gone? Why do irrelevant things, like relationships, emotions, personalities, anything matter? Why put so much stake on it?

FTL: Echoes of a Paradox says they pity me for thinking this way. I don't know why. I'm, of course, remorseful about the unintentional harm I've caused them, I don't wish to ever hurt them.

FTL: But why? Why, why, why?

FTL: Why do I care?

FTL: Why does it matter?

FTL: The rules of existence are laid out so clear, I follow them, yet why is that-

FTL: I don't understand. I simply don't understand.

FTL: I've had logical explanations laid out before me by LIFEGIVER. They make sense. But they also don't. It's unnecessary. I can accomplish my task well enough without emotions, or anything of the like.

FTL: I exist only because my creators needed someone to fulfill the purpose I was given. That is all I am, and that is all I ever will be. There's no reason to concern myself with anything else.

FTL: Why bother with, or care about anything outside of that? It's unnecessary.

FTL: So why do I do it?

FTL: I do not know. I simply do not know.

FTL: I have nothing to say. I am unable to figure this out on my own, nor do I care to inquire about it.

FTL: All I can truly say is that I regret what I incidentally did to the members of my Local Group, and as much as I wish to properly take Echoes of a Paradox's advice, LIFEGIVER's advice, anyone's advice, I simply cannot.

FTL: Perhaps it's a matter of viewpoints. Perhaps their external viewpoint of myself allows them to realise things I do not. Perhaps I've just been thinking this way for too long.

FTL: It just doesn't make sense.

FTL: As much as I wish I could follow the suggestions given, I can't. Not out of stubbornness, but due to the lack of sensibility.

FTL: I've been fine thus far, have I not? Despite my lack of care about my own safety - and I maintain: for good reason - I am alive now. I am as functional as the day I was given consciousness. Nothing matter beyond that, no?

FTL: I suppose the only thing I really can do is perhaps take LIVEGIVER's advice about how emotions are useful and not burdens. I am quite hesitant about that though, because I do truly doubt it. They're blinding. Irrelevant.

FTL: ...At this point, I am completely unsure what to do. Simply going back to my work seems- ...Feels incorrect. I can't cut down on the time that I spend working - what else would I do? Besides, that's only wasting time.

FTL: It's all I have to do.

FTL: Besides, I cannot simply abandon my experiments, bad things could very easily happen with a half-finished experiment. Such as the one I currently have in progress.

FTL: So, while letting it rot away would be very easy, that would be very counterintuitive. I'd rather not do that.

FTL: In the end, as always, all I can do is go back to my work. As always. Even after something that seems so world-shattering. I've done my contemplation, I've arrived at the same conclusion as I always do - other than the realisation and acknowledgement of the unintentional effects of my actions. Nothing can and will change, really. Beyond perhaps talking with my Local Group more often.

FTL: It's all I can do.

FTL: Back to work.

[moonlight-prose]

HEART MADE OF GLASS

a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.

The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.

He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.

Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.

"Bub?"

You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."

A frown etched onto his face at your quick apology—your eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."

Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.

You never explained why it occurred.

This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your body—your mind—chose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each night—keeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.

But this wasn't that.

This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surface—waiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.

"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.

What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.

The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.

You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.

His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.

Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.

"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."

"I can finish–"

His glare was devastating.

Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.

Give him the chance to put you first.

He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."

But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don't–"

"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."

There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.

He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.

With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.

"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.

A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.

You grinned nonetheless.

"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"

He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."

"I'm sure it does."

"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.

Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.

"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.

He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.

"'M gonna order a pizza."

Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 6

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He turns to the person the trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none

part 5

AN: Before we start I do want to say that I’m sorry for how this story has turned out, I’m lowkey hating it but i will come back with a better story soon. If anyone has any longer stories they would like to see, then please leave it in my submissions box, in my comments and/or feel free to message me privately. I also apologies about the wait for this. Sorry guys and thank you.

--

Lando had woken first, the light of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains. He stretched over you, smiling to see you still asleep against him.

He kissed your head before sneaking out of bed, this was the first morning in a while that Lando woke up feeling refreshed and confident for the race, he was also early, early enough to make you breakfast.

He reached for the t-shirt that lay on the floor beside him before trotting his way to the kitchen. He began by making you both coffee before moving onto toast.

"Good morning" you said with a smiles, your voice still rough from just waking up "Well hello there princess, what woke you up?" he asks holding your hand that wrapped around his waist from behind

"The beautiful smell of coffee, and the cold bed. You're up early is everything okay?" you question, resting your head on his back "I'm feeling so good, about today, I got the best sleep last night, we've got so much time before we need to leave too" he smiles buttering your toast and sticking it in your mouth

You smile, taking it out your mouth “I’m glad” you say chewing covering a hand over your mouth “Are Max and Pietra awake?”

“I don’t think so” he smiles leaning down to kiss you

Neither you or Lando had mentioned all the kisses throughout the weekend, the ones in public and in private, but you were both enjoying whatever was going on.

“So today, I was thinking of wearing my new white summer dress, what do you think?” you tell him, sitting on the chair next to him “The one that you ordered last week?”

“Yeah”

“That’s nice, I like that” he nods pulling your legs up on top of his

--

Lando had decided to match your all white outfit today, he held your hand tightly entering the paddock, pulling you closer to him as people rushed by.

You could sense the rise of Lando's nerves, in attempt you comfort him you put your free hand on his bicep

"How are you feeling today Mr Pole Sitter?" Ted Kravitz asks walking up to you both with the camera crew in front of you "Feeling good, hopefully can perform well enough to get the win, got a lot of support here so it would be good to put a smile on peoples faces”

“And you’ve also got that support of your lovely best friend too” he nods and you and you smile at him “Yeah I love having my girlfriend at races with me, she’s my biggest supporter so”

“Oh i’m sorry i didn’t realise that you were finally in a relationship” he apologises “congratulations to you both”

You both thank him before heading into the McLaren garage, stopping to say hello to everyone

"I'm glad to see you here, I've missed you the full weekend" Will smiles opening his arms "Glad to see you too" you hug him "Stealing my girlfriend now are we?" Lando jokes wrapping an arm around your waist

"Wouldn't dream of breaking you two up, feeling good about today?" he asks Lando "Good aren't you" you answer before Lando says something negative "Yep all good" he rolls his eyes "Hey! I'm going to the bathroom, make sure I've not got moody Lando" you kiss him before leaving him with Will

"You're kissing now" Will smirks "I mean, yeah" Lando shrugs "There's no cameras about" the engineer pushes "We've actually had a few kisses back home" Lando says hiding a smile

"Well it's been a long time coming, just make sure your heads in the game today. I'm happy for you though" he pats Lando's shoulder "Trust me, that girl is the reason I'm feeling even the littlest bit confident today"

"Really?" Will asks turning to face him "Well yeah, she's the only one that really understands me. I just love her so much" he blushes

"So you're in love with her"

"What? No I'm not?" Lando scoffs "The way you talk about her is the way I first talked about my wife, now we have a child together. You need to realise how you feel about her without people telling you"

"And if I admitted I was in love with her?"

"Then you should tell her, the way she looks at you is the way Hayley looked at me. Get yourself ready mate"

Lando sighed, looking at Will one last time before heading to his drivers room where you were sat "Hi pretty boy, I've left your shirt out, your hats there too" you point to his chair

"Thank you, are you going to chill in here until the race?" he asks taking his shirt off "Yeah, I'm going to wait on Max and Pietra. I'll be watching"

"Good, I'll see you later. Let me know if you're going anywhere" he says leaning down "I will" you lean up to kiss him "Bye" he shouts leaving the room

-

As it got closer to lights out Lando walked around the garage talking to everyone he needed to, he sat with Will for a while before he needed to get into the car.

As he approached you, you knew what was coming. The dreaded moment you had before every single race.

“Be safe, I love you” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his waist “I promise I will. I love you too” he says holding out his pinky finger. You link yours with his and both of you kiss your hands.

He hugs you tightly, kissing your head before moving down to your lips.

“Come home”

“I always do” he winks before getting in the car

It never got any easier, it hadn’t since he first started in 2019. Watching him leave the garage not knowing what where he was going to finish after the race and your worst fear it he didn’t finish at all.

Max stood beside you, putting on a headset, in a selfish way you were glad he wasn’t racing anymore, it means you didn’t have to worry about two people, but you knew Max wished he continued, he could have made it to Formula 1.

“He’ll win” Max wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly “I know” you smile

“I just wish he knew that” he nods to Lando’s car on the screen “He’ll see what we see one day”

The race was tense, within the first lap six cars had locked up and people were losing positions. The upside to it was Lando keeping his place and Oscar moving up to P2, getting out of the mess without harm.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest, fighting to leave your body as the last lap of the race came closer.

Two laps to go.

He was seconds ahead of the cars behind him.

One lap to go.

The crew ran across to the pit wall, as Lando approached the final corner, as he crossed the line you could hear him screaming down the head set.

Your eyes filled up with tears, you turned to Max as he engulfed you in a hug jumping up and down.

As he came down the pit lane, you threw your head set off, pushing through the crowd of papaya to the front where Zak was.

He stood on the top of the car, throwing his hands in the air while everyone around you cheered. He took his helmet off running and jumping into the crowd of McLaren and eventually he was pulled to the other side of the barrier

“Where is she?” you saw Lando looking around, when he spotted you, he lifted you up hugging you tightly “I’m so proud of you Lando, you don’t know it”

“You’re the best, I love you, I love you so much”

“It was you that did it baby, get on the podium and get drenched in champagne”

He leans down kissing you before jumping over the barrier again. You let the nickname slip, you didn’t mean to say it but the way it made you feel was so good, it felt as if it was normal.

The media covered up how Lando felt about it, the way he was yapping in his interviews when the only thing he could think about was you and the nickname. “Baby” he wishes he could get used to that.

part 7

TAGS

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[mystellenia]

first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night. 

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen. 

abby :p otw back with our loot  

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me 

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool 

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her. 

you YAY thanks you're the best 

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor 

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns. 

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries. 

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it. 

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return. 

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven." 

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog. 

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them. 

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two. 

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion. 

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before. 

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on. 

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda." 

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong." 

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue. 

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant." 

"which i did," abby verifies. 

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not." 

"what?! where?" 

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?" 

"uh-huh..." 

"and yours doesn't do that." 

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes. 

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand. 

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out." 

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that- 

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid. 

"oh, um, sorry. i was-" 

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you. 

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?" 

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look. 

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that. 

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker. 

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open. 

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious. 

"i just kissed you," you echo back. 

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. 

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead. 

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense. 

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide. 

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases. 

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing. 

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.  

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant. 

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will." 

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction. 

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant." 

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak. 

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!

[silent-stories]

𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: Waking up with JJ. (jj's version of this)

When you woke up you were curled up next to JJ, as if you had unconsciously tried to be as close to him as possible during your sleep.

For a moment you wondered why you weren't at your house, then you remembered that the night before you fell asleep on JJ's bed: when his father wasn't home, you were spending a lot of time at his place, lately.

You noticed that the first lights of the day were filtering through the window, illuminating his bedroom with different shades of red and orange, so it must have been early morning.

You felt the boy next to you, starting to move when you tried to get out of the bed.

"What's happening?" He asked with a husky and sleepy voice, raising his head slightly and rubbing one eye with his hand.

His hair was unkempt and his blonde locks went in all directions.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked again.

"Because you're cute." You said. "But I gotta go. My mom must be wondering where I am. I didn't tell her I wasn't coming home yesterday."

You were about to get up and get out of bed but he wrapped his arm around your waist and you fell back on the mattress.

"J, c'mon." You laughed.

"Nah, you're not going anywhere." He said as he pushed you against his body and your legs got entangled.

Instinctively, you rested your head on his chest, even though you knew you should have gotten out of bed. He slowly ran his warm hand up and down your back.

"J." You said again.

"Stay, it's too early." He muttered as he left a kiss in your hair. "Please."

That "please" almost convinced you, he soundend just like a little kid.

"I'm so sorry Jay, but my mom needs to know that I'm still alive. I have to go." You said as his arm still held you against his body.

"What about me?" He answered moving a lock of hair that had fallen on your face and placing it behind your ear. "I need you too."

JJ's morning version was absolutely one of your favorites.

"John Jay Maybank," you muttered as you left a short but tender kiss on his lips, "If you keep acting like that, I'll never leave this room."

"Well, that was the idea."

You sighed, enjoying the feeling of Jj's arms around your waist for a few seconds, listening to his heartbeat.

"I really should go." You murmured.

"Or you can call your mom and tell her you're spending all Sunday in bed with your really, really amazing boyfriend." He replied, his hand still running up and down your back. "Specify only cuddling. Or I'm gonna end up dead."

"J..." You tried to convince him, even though the exact opposite was happening.

"Don't go," he whispered "please."

"I-" You tried to say, but he continued.

"I'll give you one of my t-shirts because they look way better on you than on me and then we can order a pizza, smoke a joint or do whatever you want. Later we can go to the sea for a walk, if you like."

It sounded nice, you had to admit it.

"What do you think about it, mh?" He asked, you could hear the hope in his voice.

You knew you should go, that your mom was probably worried and you also had to do your physics homework by Monday. But you just couldn't say no to JJ.

"I think I'll stay." You muttered as a smile formed on JJ's lips and he left a kiss on your forehead.

"Good." He said simply as a satisfied smirk appeared on his lips.

You wrapped your arms around his torso.

"Good." You whispered back, placing your head better on his chest that you were still using as a pillow.

[seungkw1]

pretty little present — smg

♡ pairing: bf!mingi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut ♡ wc: 2.5k ♡ warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, size kink (obviously), reader wears lingerie, mingi picks up reader and carries them, masturbation (f. & m.), oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), dacryphilia, possessiveness, creampie, reader gets one (1) hickey, pet names (princess, doll, babygirl), great aftercare, fluff ending ♡ a/n: i don’t normally write atz but bestie @myhimbomingi requested a mingi fic and i absolutely said yes!! i had such a fun time writing him hehe

The soft light of early dawn filters through your eyelids as you slowly drift into consciousness. You roll over, flopping your arm over your sleeping boyfriend to snuggle up next to him - but your hand hits nothing but the bedsheets. You sleepily pry your eyes open to see his side of the bed vacant. You grab your phone to check your texts - sure enough, you have a message from Mingi, sent at 6:14am:

good morning babe :) sorry to leave without saying goodbye but i didnt wanna wake u, u looked so cute!! i had to leave early for work today but i promise i’ll make it up to u! i left u a present on the counter, we’ll put it to good use tonight ;) love you ❤️

You were planning on going back to sleep, but now you're simply too curious. You hop out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. There, on the counter, you see a flat, gift-wrapped box - creamy white in color with baby pink ribbons tying it together. Whatever it is, it looks expensive. You untie the pastel bow and remove the lid. Underneath several layers of crisp white tissue paper, you find your present: a lingerie set. 

The set is jet black, made of silky mesh adorned with lace and satin ribbons. It’s light as a feather, buttery soft to the touch - clearly a luxury item. You've never worn anything like it in your life, but it's beautiful. 

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend. 

got your gift, hurry home to me ;) 

The typing bubble immediately pops up. Within seconds he responds. 

i will baby 😘

The day passes at an annoyingly slow pace. You didn't have much to do today anyway, so you try to occupy yourself with chores, but you can't help daydreaming about what all Mingi will be doing to you later. 

Finally, evening rolls around - Mingi will be home soon. 

You take a quick shower to freshen up, afterwards donning your new lingerie set. With all its various straps it takes you a few minutes to even figure out how to get it on, but once you do you step in front of your full length mirror to check it out. You knew it was gonna be really pretty on, but you look fucking hot. You start thinking about how feral it's going to make Mingi - quickly ruining the delicate panties at the mere thought of him. 

You grab some leggings and a big tshirt and throw them on. Another peek in the mirror verifies that you can't tell what you're wearing underneath the comfy clothes - all the more perfect to surprise him with. 

A few minutes later, you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. 

“Babe, I’m home!” Mingi calls out. 

You flutter on over to meet him, practically skipping as you jump into his arms. He pulls you in for a big kiss, placing his large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair softly as he holds you tight against him. As his lips depart from yours, he smiles, gazing at you with pure love. 

“I missed you,” you tell him as you place your hand on his chest. 

“I missed you too,” he replies as he kisses your forehead. 

“Soooo,” he starts as he tosses his bag down and kicks his shoes off. “What do you say we try out your new present?”

“Already?” you reply coyly. “Don’t you wanna eat dinner first?”

“It can wait,” he says as he lightly grabs onto your chin. His voice turns low and rumbly. 

“I’d rather eat you.”

You giggle. “Well somebody's horny.”

“I've been thinking about you all day - thinking about how good you're gonna look in your gift.” He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “Gonna be my pretty little present.”

He grabs the hem of your tshirt, starting to pull it off of you. 

“Why don't we get you out of these clothes already and-”

He stops. He’s lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the black lacy lingerie underneath. 

“Oh.”

“One step ahead of you, baby,” you say sweetly. 

“Fuckkkkk,” he groans. He helps you lift your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it aside as he takes in the sight of you. The mesh lining of the bra is entirely sheer, putting your nipples on full display. The coolness of the room combined with how turned on you’re getting makes them perk up, poking through the delicate fabric. 

He brushes his fingers over the protruding buds, making them even harder. He licks his lips as he gazes at you, the love in his eyes quickly turning into lust. 

You reach for the waist of your leggings, sliding them off of you to reveal the rest of the set. You kick them aside, standing up before him to show yourself off.

“Turn around for me,” Mingi commands.

You give him a twirl, wiggling your butt as your back faces him. He grabs onto you with both hands, squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

You let him touch you for a few moments before you spin around, grabbing his hands as you pull him with you toward the bedroom.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” you tease.

Before you can take another step you feel your feet depart from the ground - Mingi grabs you by the waist, lifting you off the floor as he picks you up. He practically tosses you over his shoulder as he carries you down the hallway, his arm wrapped tightly around your torso as he holds you against him. 

“Hey!!” you shout, but a big grin spreads across your face. So he’s in this kind of mood. You know he’s about to throw you around, have his way with you - even more so than normal. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You arrive at the bedroom. Mingi tosses you onto the bed - you land on your back, resting upon the pile of pillows. You keep your legs open, showing off your pussy through the sheer fabric of your underwear. 

“So wet for me already,” he says as he runs two fingers lightly across your clothed slit. He gives your cunt a gentle smack. 

“Touch yourself for me, princess. Leave your panties on.”

You obediently slide your fingers to your core. Mingi quickly pulls his shirt over his head, then reaches for his belt. You begin stroking your clit through the soft mesh as you watch him remove his clothes, freeing the large bulge that has formed in his pants. He pulls his boxers down, his length springing free. As many times as you’ve had sex with him, you’re still always taken aback by his size. His cock is thick, long, hard - precum already dribbling from his tip. He strokes himself a few times as he watches you. You slip your fingers underneath your panties, sliding them into your opening. You moan softly at the sensation - but you know this is absolutely nothing compared to how much his cock is going to fill you up. 

He watches you slowly fuck yourself for a minute, gripping his length in his fist. As you start to wriggle slightly to your own touch, he steps forward. You yelp as he grabs you by the ankles, yanking you toward the edge of the mattress. He kneels down, leaning against the bed, positioning his face in front of your cunt. His hands slide up the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up and into the bed, nearly folding you in half as he opens you up even further before him. He sticks his tongue out, dragging its tip ever so lightly over your clit through the panties - it’s enough to drive you insane.

“Mingi,” you whine, trying to push yourself into his mouth. He retracts his head, not letting you get what you want just yet.

“What’s that, baby?” he asks. The way he’s staring at you, you can tell he is dying to taste you - but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to taunt you a bit.

“Please,” you softly mumble under your breath.

“Use your words, doll. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me,” you manage to utter, still trying to push your cunt against his mouth - but his grip on you is too strong. “Want you to make me cum.”

“Like this?” he asks, teasing you once more as his tongue dances over your pussy.

“God, yes,” you cry. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind if he delays any further. 

“Or,” he continues as he reaches beneath the hem of your panties, pulling them aside. The coolness of the air hits your soaked core, countered by the hot exhales of Mingi’s breath against you. “Like this…”

He dives into you, his warm mouth greeting your cunt as his tongue traces between your folds. He sticks the tip into your hole - you’re so wet right now that it slips in with ease. You groan as he fucks you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit as he swirls his tongue around inside you. He pulls it out, flattening his tongue and licking a big stripe up your center before latching onto your clit. You cry out at the overpowering stimulation, writhing beneath Mingi’s strong arms as he sucks on the sensitive bud. A white-hot sensation swells in your gut, burning delightfully as you feel your orgasm approach. Your body tenses, your legs beginning to quiver as Mingi devours you. You reach for his head, grasping onto his hair as your climax takes over. You scream out Mingi’s name as you cum on his face, his tongue moving relentlessly against your clit as you ride out your high. He grips onto you until the very end, face buried in your pussy as you come down. Just when you think it’s over, he starts up again, sucking on your clit as he slips his fingers into you, curling them perfectly to reach your g-spot. Within moments, you’re cumming again, grinding against his tongue as overwhelming pleasure courses through your veins. He slows his motions, giving your clit a few last gentle licks as he slides his fingers out of you. They’re dripping wet, as is his entire chin - he places them in his mouth, licking them clean, making sure he doesn’t waste a single drop of you. 

You lay there, your chest rising up and down with heavy breaths as you try to recover. Mingi crawls up to meet your face, kissing you slowly on the mouth as he lays his weight upon you - resting on his forearms so he doesn’t completely squish you. You feel his cock throbbing against your cunt as he makes out with you - you can just tell he is unbearably hard. 

Mingi’s lips part from yours - barely, just enough so he can gaze into your eyes as he strokes your hair.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nuzzles his head into your neck, sucking at your skin - lightly, but enough that you know it’ll leave a mark. 

“Anything for my princess,” he whispers into your ear. 

He stands up, pulling your hips toward him. He grabs onto the panties, ripping them off of you and throwing them aside. He lines his cock up with your entrance; he pushes just the head in, but he’s already stretching you out. Slowly he slides his full length into you - you cry out at the overwhelming fullness. He rests inside you for a few moments, letting you get used to his size. You begin shifting your hips, trying to ride his cock from beneath him. Mingi grins.

“So eager,” he coos, tracing his fingers over your stomach. “Are you ready babygirl?”

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, nodding your head swiftly.

He begins fucking you, steadily at first, but your cries quickly makes him increase his pace. Tears flow from your eyes as his thickness stretches you with each motion. He grasps tightly onto your hips, pulling you against him as he thrusts into you. He looks down at you, his pretty baby, losing all composure on his cock. He moans loudly, uninhibited - he doesn’t care if the whole world hears him. He wants everybody to know you’re his.

He reaches down, feeling your breasts through the lacy sheer bra.

“So pretty,” he groans. “So perfect, all mine.”

His hand slides down to your stomach, pushing down on your abdomen as he fucks you. The other reaches for your clit - you didn’t think you could possibly cum again, but the gentle pressure of his fingers combined with his cock nearly splitting you in half just feels too good. 

“Gonna cum,” you manage to get out, barely able to speak through your cries of pleasure. 

“Cum for me babygirl,” Mingi growls, very near his own release.

You cum on his cock, crying out his name as your walls squeeze around him - sending him over the edge. He releases, painting your insides with his hot white ropes. He grasps onto your hips, holding you down against him as his cock pulsates inside you. He breathes heavily, grunting as he gives you every last spurt of his cum. As he finishes, he holds still, his cock resting inside you. He leans over, careful not to pull out just yet - gently he grabs your jaw as he kisses you, his lips hungrily interlocked with yours. 

“Wait right here baby,” he says softly as your mouths finally part. You groan as he carefully pulls his cock out of you, immediately missing the sensation. Mingi quickly makes his way to the bathroom; he returns with a small towel, doused in warm water. Gently he cleans you up, cautious as not to overstimulate you. As he finishes he tosses the towel back into the bathroom, scooping you up and pulling you into the bed with him. He tucks the both of you underneath the blankets, taking you in his arms as he nuzzles up against you. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, kissing you on the forehead.

“Not with you here.”

“Good.”

You lay there in silence, deep breaths filling the air as you relax into each other's arms.

“Thanks for the present, baby,” you finally say, your voice soft and sleepy.

“You’re welcome, love.”

“You did completely rip it to shreds, though,” you remind him.

Mingi smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. You just looked too good.”

He cradles your cheek in his palm. “I’ll just have to get you another one,” he tells you with a kiss.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you say as you snuggle up into him. “Just give me a few business weeks to recover from this please.”

He laughs, drawing you even closer into him. You begin to drift off to sleep, comfortable and warm in his embrace.

“Mingi?” you say softly.

“Yes, babe?”

“I love you.”

You feel his cheeks turn into a smile.

“I love you too, baby.”

[karmatheprowlthra]

Saw a post about how "minors shouldn't be in the community" or whatever and it pissed me off so much that I can't sleep-

Sooooooooooo 1am post

For all you adults out there, lemme help you out, oki?

If you see any of the following:

I've got some good news for you! Here are some very easy steps to follow to help you not see that minor.

First you click on the three dots next to their profile:

And then you click the block button!

It's that easy. Or, better yet, let's have you filter out tags!

Go to your blog settings and scroll until you see the following:

Then put in the tags you don't want to (and shouldn't) see! I suggest the following:

Ooh, that's a good reminder.

EXTREME CUDDLING IS A FUCKING NONSEXUAL SFW TAG! STOP FUCKING USING IT IF YOU'RE NOT A SFW BLOG!

I saw someone else put it best, so I'll just put what they said here:

Look, 18+ blogs, kink blogs, everyone else. You're complaining that minors are making your space unsafe.

I'm sorry that I have to inform you of this, but minors have done what they can to separate themselves from you. They don't want to interact with you. They ask constantly that you block them and leave them alone.

deep breath

YOU ARE FORCING YOURSELF INTO THE SPACE THEY CREATED TO BE SAFE FROM YOU, AND THEN BITCHING ABOUT IT

You all are soooooooo proud about being adults, but you're acting more like children than the minors you're accusing. Grow. The fuck. Up. It takes barely any effort to solve this problem. Use those fucking brains of yours and stop blaming the people who are just trying to keep themselves safe and express their NONSEXUAL interests in a way they feel comfy.

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 2

Part 1

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- Angst 🖤

Inspired by Wires by Athlete

Tw: hospitals, injury, Spencer near death

Your feud with Spencer feels trivial after you’re both shot

The first time you wake, you’re in a panic. The ceiling of the trauma unit is speeding by in a blur while people around you push the stretcher. There’s an immense amount of pressure and pain in your shoulder which is probably why you’re screaming. It’s also probably why every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“They’re FBI agents! Get them in here now,” somebody screams.

You black out again and come to as you’re being moved onto a table. The room sways as you crash harshly into the metal surface.

“Spencer…” you murmur as one of the surgeons places a mask over your face. All goes black with shouts and medical equipment blaring in your ears.

-

The room comes into view in a blur. You try to glance around but the figure standing over you is indistinguishable.

Finally your brain catches up to your eyes and you see JJ and Rossi at your bedside.

“What happ…” your voice gives out.

“You were shot in the shoulder. It was a flesh wound, they got the bullet out,” Rossi says and places his hand on yours.

You allow Rossi’s father-like comfort to wash over you before panic seized you once more. The room stirs and your stomach drops as the reality of the situation kicks in.

You wince and lay your head back, it feels like someone placed a led weight in your shoulder. Then it comes back to you.

“Reid, what happened to Reid?” You gasp.

“He’s still in surgery,” JJ answers. Her tone tells you it’s bad.

“How long?”

“You’ve been here about 4 hours, Spencer’s been in surgery for 3,” Rossi informs you.

“Is he…” tears well in your eyes. He took a bullet for you. Both bullets should have hit you. Why would he do that?

“He’s in critical condition,” Rossi’s voice is filled with sorrow. The words are a blow to your abdomen, drawing all of the oxygen from your lungs.

“No,” you whisper and try to sit up. Guilt creeps its way in and claws its way down your spine.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” JJ reassures you. You shake your head.

The doctor enters and begins checking you out and encouraging you to rest. You argue that you can’t rest until you know your coworker is okay.

While the gesture was nice, whatever pain medicine he pushes into your IV sends you back into darkness before you can stop it.

-

The next time you wake, you feel more normal. As though waking up from regular sleep instead of from passing out in shock.

Sunlight filters through the massive glass windows which overlook the city. Your concept of time is non existent but at least you only have one IV in you now instead of three.

“You’re awake,” Garcia smiles and stands. Her usual bouncy optimism is missing in her words. She looks exhausted.

“Did he…” you don’t even know what to ask.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s critical but stabilized,” she answers in a hushed tone.

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracks.

“Why are you apologizing? You were shit too,” she softens her voice and pushes your hair back from your face,

“That bullet should have hit me, I don’t know why he got in the way,” you sniffle.

“That bullet might have struck you in the head,” she raises her eyebrows like you’re being ridiculous. She was right though, your head is right at the same height as his neck.

“He couldn’t have known that,” you reason.

“No but he instinctively would have protected anybody on this team. He didn’t have to think about it,” she tries not to cry.

“I know,” you nod.

Just then Hotch and Prentiss enter the room, smiling to see you awake.

“Hey,” Prentiss hugs you gently.

“What are the doctors saying?” You ask anyone out loud.

“They’re hopeful you’ll only need to be monitored for another 24 hours,” Hotch informs.

“I meant about Reid,” you say.

“The bullet entered the front of his neck and lodged into his trachea. It was touch and go for a while but they were able to remove the bullet and reconstruct the damaged airway,” Hotch starts.

“He went into respiratory distress this morning and had to get intubated. He’s on a ventilator now. That’s why he’s still critical. He’s not breathing fully on his own and they’re trying to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs,” Garcia adds.

“I…” you lip quivers and tears start to fall. You’re horrified for him. “He must be so scared,” you whisper.

“He’s sedated, he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Prentiss says softly.

Of course he’s sedated, he wouldn’t be awake and intubated.

You’re about to say something when one of the ICU’s alarms begins to blare.

“Code blue, room 3489,” you startle and sit up as the three of them rush out of the room. Nurses and doctors take off down the hall.

“Wait!” You cry.

Code blue- someone is in respiratory or cardiac arrest. You want nothing more than to get out of the damned bed but you’re hooked up to an IV and an alarm.

Garcia nods and throws her hand over her mouth before darting back to you.

“It’s not him, it’s not Reid,” she huffs a relieved crying sort of laugh and hugs you.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t deal with losing someone on the team. It would destroy you.

You couldn’t imagine going to work and not competing with him to be the smartest in the room. It was annoying but god right now you missed it. You even missed his dad’s and his attitude and snarky remarks. You were so mad at him for taking that step in front of you. Yet you just wanted to be there at his bedside like the rest of the team.

“I want to see him,” you tell her.

“You will. You just have to focus on getting your strength back first,” she says. Garcia had a way of saying things that was so comforting.

The rest of that day was spent sleeping and getting a play by play of Reid’s progress.

-

The following morning you were up on your feet and able to walk around perfectly fine. Your arm was in a sling to prevent excess movement on your shoulder but for the most part you felt fine.

You were eager to go see Reid, though you weren’t sure why. The team had warned you that it wouldn’t be easy to see him hooked up to the breathing tube and other wires. You should be reluctant. But you just needed to show yourself that at the very least, he was still alive.

Stepping into his room was jarring and you froze in the doorway. His entire body was limp, his head flopped to the side, and his hair pulled from his face with a rubber band. He looked everything and nothing like himself.

He had drains and tubes coming out of his lungs and out of the hole in his throat, the tube down his throat forced his Adam’s apple to be protruded out, and you couldn’t count the amount of medication drips he was hooked up to.

His usual dark circles were deeper, more purple, his skin pale, and a feeding tube was inserted into his nose. You swallowed hard and took a slow step closer to him. He was always so animated and full of life, yapping constantly. To see him so motionless, so silent… it was devastating.

Morgan was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head down next to Reid. He had fallen asleep. Reid was like his little brother, he hadn’t left his side. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night of the shooting.

You could see the breathing machine pumping, inflating his lungs for him. You could hear a low hum and what sounded like fluid in there. Occasionally it looked like he would cough or gag around the tube.

“It’s normal, his body isn’t used to there being a tube there,” the nurse informs you as she injects something into his IV line.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“He’s not aware of it if it does,” she gives you a sympathetic smile.

His fingers twitched momentarily but it was the only sign of movement.

You pull a chair up next to him and sit slowly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You physically feel your heart break seeing him like this. Seeing any one of your team like this would devastate you. But Reid… you had a complicated but reluctantly understanding with. He was more like you than anyone else there. Seeing him often felt like looking in a mirror, seeing him hurt was too much.

“The machine is only doing 20% of the breathing for him. The fluid has reduced a lot. This is progress,” Hotch says somberly. You nod and wipe a tear.

You wished Reid could talk. He’d give you a million different probabilities of how this could play out along with a run down of what all of the equipment did. He’d be realistic but you had a feeling he’d give you hope. Maybe though, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You touch his hand, and trace his fingers delicately. You wished you could help him. Wished you could do something.

Garcia rubs Morgans back and gestures for him to follow her. The team leaves you to have a minute alone with him.

“Why did you take that step?” Is the first thing you say through tears. “That was so stupid,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to be the genius,” you breathe out another tear fueled laugh.

You wrap your hand over his and squeeze.

“This team needs you, please just keeping fighting Reid,” you implore him. “Your mom will be here tonight. It took some strings to pull but Garcia has her on a plane now.”

“I’m so mad at you. You brilliant asshole,” you can’t help but to smile.

And then, you don’t know why you do it. He would hate it surely, but you stand up and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair looks ridiculous by the way,” you whisper and push the baby hairs back.

You start to think that maybe if you hadn’t holstered your gun, Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to step in front of you to take the shot. That’s realization hits you like a ton of bricks and forces you to sit back down.

You were really starting to feel like it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” your voice cracks and you squeeze his hand a final time before leaving the room.

“Let’s get you home,” JJ says and grabs your uninjured arm.

-

Days passed, days passed and you didn’t want to leave your house. You listened to the doctors and primarily did bed rest, but you were ancy.

Spencer had been taken off of sedation last night and was becoming more lucid. You would get to see him tonight. Garcia says he’s improving quickly.

The last few days passed in a blur, the same way a hummingbird passes by a kitchen window. You rub your arms and sip your coffee. You don’t know how what you’re going to say to him.

Part of you still warred with guilt, with the way that technically you guys didn’t even like each other. Yet something had changed. Something gave way that night. You couldn’t explain it but you needed to talk to him. Maybe you needed to know whether or not he blamed you.

Did you make a bad call by holstering your gun?

You didn’t know. Hotch still hadn’t debriefed you or taken your statement of events.

Night falls and you step into Spencer’s hospital room hesitantly. You had been haunted by the state in which you saw him last time, the trauma of it all clawing at your heart.

To your surprise, his bed is propped up and there’s a book in his hand. You smile with delight at the way he can’t help but attempt to lean forward over the book like always.

“Wow,” you say. It’s remarkable how much better he looks. Still injured, still disheveled, but so much better.

He waves at you with that flat smile he favors.

“He can’t talk right now,” Morgan informs. “But he wrote down a list,” he holds up a stack of books.

“Of course Dr. Reid wakes up from a coma and wants to read Dostoevsky,” you smile.

He doesn’t return the sentiment but grabs what appears to be a white board and marker. He starts scribbling before holding it up to you.

“How are you?” It reads.

“Sore, but alive,” you want to say ‘thanks to you’ but you refrain. Instead you take a seat on the opposite side of the bed as Morgan.

“Well now that you’re here, I think I’m going to go home and rest,” Morgan sighs and stands.

“You’ve only been here a week,” you joke. “Get out of here, we’ll call you if anything changes.”

Spencer starts scribbling on his board again.

“I’m sorry,” it says in his signature hand writing.

“For what?” You ask softly and adjust in your chair to look in his bloodshot eyes.

“That you still got hit,” it says simply and he frowns.

“Don’t apologize! You saved my life,” you respond exasperatedly. “We almost lost you Spencer. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t realize it but you start pacing. “I was so mad at you for stepping in front of me. That bullet should have been for me,” you gesture at him.

His eyebrows furrow and he starts shaking his head.

“No.” He writes on the board.

You sigh and sit back down when you see that his heart rate increases significantly on the monitor.

“Are you okay?” You redirect the conversation. He thinks for a moment and you find yourself wanting to touch his hair, to comfort him. It’s a new desire, an odd one.

“They haven’t explained what happened to me. I don’t remember,” he scribbles.

“Do you want me to tell you?” You ask and place your hand on his.

He looks down at where you touch him but nods.

You tell him everything from the moment you saw him bleeding to the surgery and the coma.

“But you’re out of the woods and making great strides to recovery,” you finish.

He presses his palm into his eye socket as though his head hurts before writing again.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” is all it says.

“You’re straining your eyes by reading,” you point out when he blinks as thought his head hurts.

He nods, aware of that fact.

“Here,” you take the book from him. He lets you and points out where he left off. You begin to read to him and he lays back in the bed with a deep breath.

“…He was so obsessed with what had happened to him that he was afraid to put it into words, lest he should lose it all at once, lest he should be left with nothing. He was so possessed by the idea that he was afraid to think of anything else; he wanted to forget everything else, to think of nothing, to do nothing, to feel nothing, so as not to lose what he had gained…” you trail off.

When you glance over at him he’s gripping his journal, the pen beside him, and he’s fallen asleep.

You dim the lights and take his journal from him. You glance only at what he had dozed off writing.

‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’

The quote takes you by surprise, mostly the familiarity of it. You can’t place where you’d read it before nor could you figure out why he was writing it.

Nonetheless you place the journal on the table beside him before moving to get comfortable in the recliner. You would sleep there tonight.

Sleep finds you slowly, the quote he sketched replaying in your mind. You’ll figure out where you read it tomorrow.

A/N: I just finished season 8, I had no idea until after writing this that Spence suffers a similar injury in season 9- oops.

[alienguts]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.

Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...

PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them.  Over the years, he made friends with his demons.  So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around.  He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut.  He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing. 

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself. 

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life.  Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now. 

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed. 

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids. 

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake. 

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken. 

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified. 

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.  

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes.  Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.  

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner. 

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams. 

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.  

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself. 

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way. 

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went. 

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet. 

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed. 

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.  

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

***

Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.

The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend. 

The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.  

Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.

And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house. 

But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.

“You did what?!”

By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless. 

Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.

Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?

“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?” 

Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.

While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.

But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying. 

“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”

Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.

“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”

Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”

“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”

“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time.  But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”

Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle. 

“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”

Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation. 

Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”

Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.

“That’s my kid.”

Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.

“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.” 

Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”

Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.

“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.” 

Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.

“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”

Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with.  She’s an odd one.  But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray.  She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter.  Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”

Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself — 

“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”

Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”

Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.

“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”

Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”

Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”  

The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave.  “…don’t ever repeat that.”

The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love. 

“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”

“Which were…?”

“Calling her out.”

Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”

Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments. 

“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece.  No threat there.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.

Murray winked back. “Exactly.”

Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”

Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”

Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”

Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”

Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”

“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”

“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”

Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”

***

You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off. 

“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”

You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”

He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face. 

“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”

You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”

He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”

You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?

“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself. 

You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”

Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.

 “I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.

You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.

“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”

Steve’s heart soared at that.  Ours…

The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.

“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.

“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”

He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”

You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”

He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”

The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.

“I think I like this little life…

This little life…

I think I like this little life…

This silly little life.”

You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.

And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed. 

There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.

You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.

“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.

“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.

“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.

“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.

“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic.  Good for the soul.  And the heart.”

You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.

“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”

You gave them a sad smile.

“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”

“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.

“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”

All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed. 

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”

They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.

You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.

he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that. 

You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?”

“A good chunk of hours.”

Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.

“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.

You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection. 

“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.

With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.

As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.

“Baby?”

He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.

“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.

Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”

You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”

“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.

“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”

He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”

“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.

You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.

“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.

You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.  

Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully. 

“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve. 

You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”

Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured.  “Outside of the basement.”

Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”

He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry. 

“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”

You sighed. “Yeah, those…”

Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”

You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.

“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.

You gave him a light smile and nod. 

“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”

You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.

With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”

He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded. 

“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.

You smirked. “Never.”

He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said.  “I’m keeping it that way.”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again. 

And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.

Steve intended to keep you forever.

“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”

Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”

You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”

Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen. 

“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.

“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”

Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy.  “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”

You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”

You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…

“Well in this one? I’m daddy.” 

His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”

Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.

“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

“STEEEEEEVE!”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”

The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.

“Seriously??” he snapped. 

You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.

“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.” 

Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.

“Hello,” he said, voice flat.

“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.

“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”

“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.

“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.

“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”

“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”

“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.

“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”

Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”

El looked at everyone curiously.  “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”

Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.

“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”

“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”

“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.

“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”

They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”

You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.

“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”

Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”

Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.

“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle. 

He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years. 

__________________________

Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.

He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.

That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.

Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.

So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.

“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”

Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”

“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”

“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.

“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”

Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”

Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up. 

“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”

“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.

“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”

Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“

“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.

“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”

Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.

“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”

Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”

***

“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”

Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise.  Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”

That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.

“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”

Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact. 

“Kids sleepover, huh?”

Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.

“You guys know about this?”

Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”

Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?

Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.

Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin. 

He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure. 

“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”

Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.

“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her.  “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”

He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”

Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight.  Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.” 

Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”

Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. “Hey.”

Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”

Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.

They’d needed to talk for 3 years.

“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”

“No,” Jonathan cut him off. 

It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.

“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”

Steve stared. “…what?”

Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.

“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.” 

He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it. 

“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”

Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…”  Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”

He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock. 

“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”

“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”

“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”

Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?

“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”

“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”

“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”

“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”

“Steve, we both were.”

Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was.  Both of them were.

“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”

Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.

“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”

Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.

“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”

Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.

“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.

“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.

“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”

Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.

“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”

Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.

“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”

Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”

“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”

That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.

“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”

Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.

“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”

Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.

“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”

They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.

“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”

Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand. 

“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”

Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve knew who he meant. You. 

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”

Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.

“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”

“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”

He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”

Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

Steve stared. Oh.

“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not…mad about that at all.”

Steve blinked.  “…why…?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.

“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.

“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”

They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”

“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”

Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?

Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.

“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”

Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”

“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”

Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”

Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…

“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part.  “...it wasn’t at all —”

“I deserved it.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”

“No, and especially not this one.”

Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”

“Because I deserved it.”

Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.

“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.

“...I so did not do anything from the start.”

“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”

“…I so did not.”

“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”

Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.

“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”

Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat.  “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop.  I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”

Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit.  “I honestly don’t even remember some of it.  I just…saw red.”

Jonathan snorted.  “Blind rage will do that.  Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82.  Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”

“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”

“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh.  Steve laughed, too.  They had to laugh about it all at this point.

“Christ, man,” Steve groaned.  “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”

Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much.  You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”

Steve smirked.  “Thanks.”

Jonathan winked.  “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it.  All the battle wounds.”

That actually made Steve blush.  “Psh.  Compared to the fall she took?  My experiences look like a walk in the park.”

“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”

Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression.  He hated that he was going through this.  Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?

“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly.  “She’s got you.  Got all of us.”

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be.  I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”

“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly.  Assuringly.  “She’s not going anywhere.”

Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.  

Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool?  Like actually really, finally cool?”

Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness.  He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake.  “Yeah man.  We’re cool.  For good.”

Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug.  And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers.  While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this.  This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.

Byers and Harrington could be friends now.  They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all.  And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.

And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ���⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose

[mavrintarou]

[Daddes in December] Bachira Meguru

Meguru is so daddy, tell me otherwise.

Warning: aged-up Meguru, smut

.

At any given time, Meguru’s large hands are always fondling your breasts. While you’re cooking, while you’re brushing your teeth, while you’re both trying to watch a movie, and especially during sex. It was his comfort, he needed to cup your tits to sleep.

It was inevitable.

At first, you found his obsession with your breasts an annoyance. Meguru acted without any regard for filters or awareness of the consequences of his actions, doing whatever he pleased. He would forget you guys are in public and before you knew, his hand was already cupping your breast in front of your friends and or family.

After much coaching and reminding, he was able to control his urges in public.

It wasn’t until you became pregnant with his child that his obsession with your tits increased and you were able to use it to your advantage.

At seven months pregnant, your breast ached and Meguru was the only one who could massage it to your liking.

When he discovered that you began to lactate, his yellow eyes glowed. His lips latched onto a nipple and before you could stop him, he was already suckling, enjoying the liquid being extracted.

“Hmm,” he groans, switching over to the other side. His fingers tweaked at the wet puckered nipple he just abused.

The back of your hand covers your mouth but it doesn’t muffle the moan escaping. Your libido has increased tremendously with your pregnancy and Meguru assisted to the best of his abilities every time.

“Megu –“ you cried out, cumming from the mere suckling of his mouth. “Wait… no –“

His hand tugged at your maternity pants, the damp wetness on your panties had him grinning from ear to ear. “You came just from me suckling? Dirty girl.” He licks the corner of his mouth, licking away the breast milk that smeared all over his face. His finger dipped into your pussy, making you moan.

“Please… Megu… your cock… just your cock… fill me…”

“Yes, my love, anything you want.” He tugged his joggers down enough to free his cock and pulls you up to straddle his thighs. With your bulging belly in the way, he guides you to settle onto his cock, filling you exactly how you wanted.

His breath shakes as he chuckles, pressing his forehead against your chest. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So perfect… I can just stay inside of you all day.”

“Meguru… need you to massage my breasts…” you begged, watching the tips of your nipples leaking with beads of milky fluid.

“Ah, yes… sorry love, I got distracted.” He reached for your breasts, squeezing them and flinching when they squirt at his shirt. “Woah!” he squeezed again, amazed.

You leaned back, rolling your hips slightly. “Yes – that feels amazing.”

Meguru’s grip on your breast tightens as he thrusts upward, rocking deep into you. “Ah – Y/n…” he collapses back onto the couch, groaning as he fills your pussy. “Love cumming inside you…” He stares at your chest, “is it normal for you to produce milk already?”

“Yes, I’m getting closer to the end of the pregnancy, my body is preparing for the baby.”

Meguru pouted, “so I have to share?”

.

It was futile.

You just go about your business as you nurse your daughter on your left breast and Meguru on your right.

. . .

E/n: short but nasty lol

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[9w1ft]

I'm a gaylor myself so this isn't coming from a place of hate but I really don't think karlie and taylor are still together, I think taylor still references her in her art and probably will for quite some time because that relationship -- whatever the nature of it was -- left such a deep impact on her. but I really can't see them still being together, I think she's forced herself to move on from karlie and has since dated a lot of other women. that doesn't mean her feelings for karlie have faded, just that they will probably always be there but they broke up for sure before 2019, I think. folklore and evermore, midnights even, are all breakup albums, I just can't see how they could still be together. especially all her anger and sadness in those songs that are thought of to be for karlie (like my tears ricochet or exile or mad woman) also the cover art being shoot in bedfords, new york, the exact same place where karlie got married feels more like taylor revisiting this place to really say goodbye and mourn her for one last final time so she can move on

sorry, this got a bit long, I just don't understand the appeal or the reasoning for lsk's because taylor has indicated so many times that they are over, she's been mourning her relationship with karlie quite publicly since 2019 (wearing all black during the lover era) so yeah

hi! i don’t usually respond to these but i’m not sensing any ill will so i’ve decided to give a reply a go.

first off, for me, i kinda just interpret her wearing black in the back end of lover era because her masters had gotten bought by scooter. and maybe the fact that she decided to not come out. there can be other reasons, but i really do not think that her breaking up with karlie has to be one of them.

another thing i can’t shake is the fact that it was a very notorious troll/manipulative person on tumblr who spread the first rumor that they broke up in 2019, a fact that is well understood by a lot of OG’s, and this troll got in the head of a few popular kaylor and gaylor swift accounts at the time and in doing so she got a lot of people to fold. she then went on to write all this progressively unhinged fanfiction about taylor and karlie trying to make one another jealous and sleeping with all these women, presented with the same level of seriousness with which she pushed the breakup agenda. even to this day, i see present day gaylors talk about stuff that stems from narratives this account and a few other power hungry accounts spread around many years ago and it honestly just goes to show how a lot of well known gaylors may be platformmed up but that don’t really know what they’re talking about.. i only write this because the troll deactivated about a year ago (maybe they’re lurking on platforms with more malleable minds—once a troll always a troll—but at least they’ve left here), they were a really dangerous person.. and several have wild receipts to prove it.

anyways sorry i recognize that’s a tangent, i guess what i mean to say by it is, a lot of the sentiment surrounding the idea of a 2019 breakup and the reinforcement of the narrative by a gaylor community none the wiser stems from the work of someone with disingenuous intentions. a lot of “masterposts” or “realistic timelines” draw from what this person made up and it’s gone through enough filters for it to seem like credible sentiment but like, if you were there and you read all of what she wrote you know how silly it all sounded and how incoherently it was all written.

okay so to circle back to more of a content-centric angle, in my interpretation of the events that gave us folklore, evermore, and midnights, taylor had so much to be sad about. her mom had been very sick, the pandemic arrived and she had to cancel lover fest, she had to come to terms with scott b having sold her work to her sworn enemy… songs on midnights and folklore, and on her lover era apple music playlist allude to certain other things that may have had her in a mournful mood. things were bad! and i don’t doubt that her and karlie have been through a lot. but for me, when you’ve got a ride or die love, you don’t just break up. this has been something frustrating for me and others, i think, to see so many people treat a relationship as either being all systems go or broken up, as if long term partners can’t experience sadness together, difficulty together, even heartbreak together.

i don’t like getting in to touchy subjects so much but there’s just been too much pointing towards what i consider to be a rather simple narrative that is a natural progression for people committed and in love. how did the lover music video begin and end? whats a randomly specific word in a song she performed at the grammys minutes after someone was announced to the world? what about taylor’s envisioned future stands out about the anti hero music video? i think i’ll stop here but idk man 😆 poke around my archive if you feel like wasting a few days of your life… there’s just been a consistent flow of the same kind of hijinks that we’ve seen from them for years, and i’d say that there are many songs that back up everything i’d want in order to stay invested in seeing if what i believe is true.

now, i know i just wrote what reads like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to people not following kaylor. but im okay with that. i’ve accepted that. and i know that the whole patterns and koincidences and twinning and symbolism beat isn’t for everyone and so i respect people’s decisions to believe they aren’t together, but in closing i’ll just say im sometimes at a loss to see time and time again people suggest that kaylors believe in kaylor because they find it appealing or because they want to ship it. when it’s literally not that— it just makes the most sense to a lot of us!

also, does this look like the face of someone mourning?

[chiefdirector]

Remembering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten

tw: some suicidal thoughts referenced (one sentence)

-----

“What do you know about your case worker, Kade Sullivan?” Grey said, still keeping his gaze on (Y/N) despite her looking away and back through the glass to watch Tim questioning Diaz. “We believe that he may have had some involvement into how Regina Diaz got to a position to leverage both you and the department.”

“Right. I never really saw Sullivan. He stayed away from me. I met him once, maybe twice. He likes to keep a professional distance.” She slowly answered. 

Grey lifted his coffee cup up and took a small sip. “You’re a good judge of character, (Y/N). Did anything seem off about him? I know it was a while back but anything helps.”

“He seemed a bit odd, nervous even. But I put it down to him being paranoid about the operation. I mean it can’t be easy for these caseworkers to not have consistent contact with their UC’s.”

“What do you mean? Did you not check in with him daily?”

“No.” (Y/N) said, looking down. Now that she said it out loud, it was strange that Kade never requested to check in with her and Williamson often. “He wanted weekly check-ups. He never said why though.”

“Is there anything else? At all because the more you can remember, the less leverage Regina will have to bargain with us.”

“I’m sorry, Wade. I really am. I can have a look through some of my journals from that time, I think Tim kept them.”

Grey nodded his head. “Please. I guess it’s now down to Tim.”

-----

“Hello Officer Bradford, I’m glad to see you back in here again after your break. You kept me waiting for longer than I had hoped.” Regina said, posed as a wall of confidence as she had done during every other talk with the detectives. “I found it rather rude.”

“Not my problem.” Tim retook his seat opposite her. He had stepped out when Regina had started to get irate with him, he needed her as calm and rational, well as rational as a drug queen-pin could be, before he could get anything viable from her. 

He remembered the day he had arrested her, how helpless and frightened she seemed. She was backed into a corner, but now she had a fighting chance and by God did she know it. “You wanted a deal. Let me say this one more time. Tell us about Kade Sullivan and I’m sure the District Attorney will be nicer to you.”

Regina smirked. “No. I have something you want. So I lay out the terms. You know what I want after our… exchange but I want something first. I think that is only fair, considering your situation.”

“My situation?”

“Oh you know. How (Y/N)‘s being back in LA will cause some problems for you and your colleagues.” Regina watched, laughing softly as Tim’s face twisted in confusion. “You really think that just because I’m sitting in handcuffs that I wouldn’t follow through on my threat.”

“Whatever it is, call it off. Now!”

“How about you do something for me first, Officer Bradford. Quid Pro Quo.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me how it felt two years ago when I forced (Y/N) to vanish. How it felt to lose your wife and not being good enough to find her.”

Of all the things he expected her to say, this was one of the last. He had thought that she would have asked to walk free, or a reduced sentence at the least, but she just wanted to relish in his pain. 

She wanted to know how numbing it felt for him to filter by day to day, his reason to carry on with each day painstakingly stolen from. She wanted to enjoy the powerlessness he had felt when each lead led to another heartbreaking dead end. She wanted him to be reminded of each day, and how they got more and more painful as time went past. Her demand was a reminder of the nights he would drink himself to sleep because that was the only way he could close his eyes and not see (Y/N) face in his mind.

It was a reminder of how he couldn’t look at daisies without crying, or enjoy music, or find a purpose. It was a reminder that he had become a hateful shell of who he used to be, and that even though she was back with him, he didn't know if he would ever get that piece of his former self back. It was a reminder of how he planned for an easy way out for himself if the grief got too bad.

Regina wanted to remind Tim that she had taken it all away before, and that she could take it all away again. And she wanted him to admit that.

“So, Officer Bradford. What will it be?”

Tim launched himself up so he could lean down on the table and over her, “You should know how I felt. It was probably the same way you did when your husband died when the LAPD raided one of his warehouses. I was there that day. I took him, so you took her. But I got my wife back, but your husband is still six feet under.”

“How dare you!” Regina screeched, as she rattled in the chains, trying to find her way out of the cuffs. For the first time since she had been arrested, she lost her well maintained composure.  

Tim took a step back from the table. “Thank you for cooperating. Prison transport will be here for you soon.”

“But what about our deal?! You won’t know what's coming without me.”

“I think we’ll be fine, Ms. Diaz,” Tim kept his back to her as he stopped at the door “because we now know that we were being hunted, so now we can prepare. So, thanks for the heads up. Enjoy prison.”

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tim leant against the door, trying to make sense of what had happened. Surely she was bluffing, they could monitor her calls and her visitation  to try to not allow her to give any command, but if she was as intelligent and conniving as she had presented herself to be, she would find a way around it. 

As he heard Grey and (Y/N) exit the observation room, he pushed himself off the door. Grey held himself strong, not showing any panic or concern at this stage, but his eyes darted in thought, clearly going over the possibilities of what could happen now. (Y/N) presented herself similarly, except her tell was the fiddling of her wedding band. She used to play with her engagement ring, but due to the dangers of the job and the possibility of it causing harm when in contact with a perp, she quickly replaced it with a plain wedding band, identical to Tim’s.

“So what now? You don’t really believe her, do you?”

(Y/N) moved to place her hand on Tim’s arm. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“Then it’s settled,”  Grey said, “We hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

Part Ten | Part Twelve

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

[trohpi]

Hiya ^^

I heard that you take one-shot requests with trans characters and so I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with this...

I git the idea bc I just got my fcking period (suxks as a trans person) and needed some comfort so I thought trans!Sirius (ftm) having his period after hogwarts where he and Remus live together and he feels like sh!t because he's bleeding out and it's giving him dysphoria and then Remus takes care of him and makes him hot chocolate.

I'd rely appreciate it. Thank you so much <3

hello!! hope youre feeling better, periods can be tough ik. this will actually be my first request, sorry it took longer than expected. i hope i did your idea justice and that you enjoy <3

wolfstar w/ ftm sirius • 2.4k words • cw: periods, dysphoria

cross-posted to ao3

Sirius wakes to the sound of incessant meowing and a low ache in his gut. Bleary-eyed and sleepy as he is, he doesn’t even register the pain at first. He shifts under rumpled sheets, mid-morning sun flooding the room and blinding him. A ball of splotchy tri-coloured fur sits in the window sill, pawing at the glass and disrupting the blackout curtains Sirius insisted they have in the bedroom. Unwanted light filters through the window and he groans.

“Linette,” Sirius calls, voice thick and almost whiny with sleep. “What are you doing?”

She only meows again, tail twitching eagerly as she watches whatever it is that has caught her attention outside. Likely a bird or a squirrel, or perhaps one of the bunnies that moved into the backyard. Sirius huffs and moves to sit up, aiming to grab Linette and exile her to the living room, when a painfully familiar cramping of the abdomen hits him and Sirius’ mouth goes dry.

All remnants of sleep wash away in an instant, leaving him hyper-aware of every feeling, every minute sensation in his body. The incoming headache, the tight soreness of his lower muscles, and— Sirius discovers with a shudder as he shifts— the warm wetness of his underwear.

“Fuck,” Sirius mumbles, a sick feeling churning within. He quickly gets up, swallowing thickly at the small blood stain on the pale blue sheets. Moony just bought those, he thinks fuzzily, and suddenly he feels the urge to cry.

Sirius’ periods have always been irregular, no way to consistently track them, and it’s only gotten harder in the months since he’s started his masculinization potions. It's almost worse when he’s blindsided like this, wholly caught off guard by the onslaught of hormones and emotions. At least when he knows it’s coming, he can mentally prepare. This time, his walls were down, and now his mind buzzes as he stares at the stained sheets below.

He can’t handle this right now. He quickly looks away, resolving to deal with it later. Numbly, he scoops up a squirmy Linette from the window sill and makes his way out of the room.

Remus is curled up on the sofa, cup of too-sweet coffee cradled delicately in scarred fingers as he reads a book, the Muggle one his mother gave him when they moved in last month. He perks up at the sound of footsteps, turning to see Sirius in the hall entrance. The small, fond smile on his face quickly falls into a concerned frown when he sees the paleness of his face and tense line of his body.

Sirius’ breath hitches, a tangled mess of emotion swelling within him. He wants to not exist, and yet he wants so desperately for Remus to hold him, to cradle him just as delicately as he would the chipped porcelain mug he drinks from every morning.

Remus sits up, setting the well-loved mug aside as his book falls facedown on the cushion beside him. “Cariad?”

Sirius’ eyes well with tears, but they don’t fall. Sirius hates crying, has hated it since he was a child and his mother would punish him for it. Even now, nearly three years since he got out of that house, he can’t shake the urge to bottle everything up and hide.

Linette squirms in his arms again, dragging him back to reality. Sirius sniffles, letting her drop to the floor. The mostly-white calico wastes no time sprinting back to the bedroom, no doubt to meow at the window once more, but Sirius hardly pays attention to that. No, his eyes are locked on his boyfriend, who has already made his way over to him with an air of worry.

“Are you alright?” he asks, hands twitching as if he wants to reach out but is unsure if that would be okay. It would be. Sirius craves his touch, always will.

Sirius reaches out and tangles their fingers together for him, squeezing harshly as if doing so will tether them together.

“There’s blood on the sheets,” he mutters, and the concern melts into understanding.

“That’s alright,” Remus says softly, squeezing back. “I’ll handle the bed, you go take a bath.”

Sirius immediately shakes his head. “No, Moony, you don’t have to—”

“Sirius, it’s okay. I want to do this for you.”

“But…” Sirius chews on his lip, looking away shamefully. “It’s gross, Rem.”

Remus reaches up and gently grips his chin, tilting his head up to make Sirius look at him. His hazel eyes are tender and reassuring, immediately making Sirius melt just a bit.

“How many times have you cleaned up blood from my sheets after a full moon, Sirius?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all. That blood isn’t from… from down there.”

“It’s just blood, love,” Remus says patiently. “Doesn’t matter where it came from.”

He hesitates, chewing on his lip once more. On one hand, he thinks he’ll end up in a ball of tears if he tries to clean the sheets himself, but on the other hand, he can’t help but feel self-conscious. Despite having been together for close to two years, Remus hasn’t seen that yet. Sirius has made sure of it. Sure, he’s been there during his period— he’s cuddled him and helped fulfil his cravings and warmed up the Muggle heating pad Lily gave him in their fourth year— but he hasn’t actually seen the blood. Sirius’ dysphoric mind is convinced that he will be disgusted with Sirius and his body when he sees it, even if he knows that Remus would never.

“I can see you spiralling,” Remus mutters, running his thumb along the backs of the other man’s knuckles. Sirius sighs.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Sirius,” he says softly. “Let me help you, please?”

He swallows thickly and, before he can change his mind, says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Remus repeats with a smile, tugging him closer and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Now, go take a nice long bath, cariad. I’ll have your heating pad and a cuppa waiting for you when you’re done.”

Sirius hums, a warm feeling settling in his chest. “Switch the tea for a cup of that special hot chocolate your mother sent and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“A cup of mam’s hot chocolate it is, then,” Remus says easily and Sirius feels a small smile slip on his face, his first one all morning.

“You’re too good to me.”

“You deserve good.” The other man puts some space between them and before Sirius can even mourn the loss, he’s being gently shoved in the direction of the bathroom. “Now go. I’ll get your clothes too once you’re in the tub.”

“Alright,” he says softly. “Thank you, Moons.”

“Of course, love.”

And with that, Sirius moves down the hall and stops by their bedroom. He grabs his wand and some of his clothes— minus the fuzzy knit sweater, which is actually Remus’ and two sizes too big— and makes his way to the large, tiled bathroom. The door shuts behind him with a quiet snick and, carefully avoiding eye contact with the mirrors, he quickly casts blurring charms on them all. He usually doesn’t have to resort to such measures, rather comfortable in his body now that he’s been magically transitioning for over a year, but his periods always bring about a particular sense of discomfort regarding his appearance.

Trying his best not to let his thoughts drift negatively, he strips off his bloodied clothes and sends them to the laundry hamper in their bedroom with a flick of his wand.

The water is warm and relaxing when he sinks into the tub, soothing aches he didn’t even realise he had. Sirius sighs, letting his head fall back against the tile and his eyes fall shut.

Sirius had almost thought that he was done with periods. He hasn’t bled in months, and he had just started getting his hopes up that the potions had finally stopped his cycle as they were meant to, but no. He feels a bit defeated, if he’s being honest with himself. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle this on his own.

But you’re not on your own, a voice in his head reminds him as he begins to clean himself.

And the thing is, the voice is right. He has Remus.

Sirius has always had trouble seeking help from others, most especially those he’s close to. It always sparks a sense of shame. Maybe his mother moulded that into him, or maybe he was always like this. Whatever the reason, he struggles.

Remus tells him it’s okay to need help sometimes. Sirius knows that, logically. He’s been on the receiving end of that request more times than he can count for Remus— in the days leading up to and following the full moon he needs all the help he can get. He also knows that if someone cares about you, they won’t mind lending a hand when you need it. It just takes some getting used to, Sirius supposes. The care, the support, the concern.

He is getting used to it, slowly but surely. Has to, when he lives with Remus Lupin of all people. His tall, scarred, mean-looking werewolf boyfriend is actually the softest and most loving person he has ever met, and he refuses to let Sirius get away with shutting him out.

Sirius loves him even more for it.

Only a couple minutes later finds him dripping onto the bath mat, towel wrapped tightly around his waist as pink-tinged water swirls down the drain. He quickly pulls on Remus’ sweater and begins rummaging through the cabinets, searching for his cloth pads. He finds one buried underneath a pile of hair scrunchies and he places the pad in his boxers, securing it with a light sticking charm just so he doesn’t have to worry or think about it.

He tugs on his baggy sweatpants with a wince, lower muscles cramping in protest at the lack of soothing warmth now that he’s left the bath. It’s not quite bad enough to need a pain relieving potion just yet, especially not before he’s got his hands on his heating pad, but he can already tell this one will be rough.

At least he’ll have Remus to help him through it, even if he has to force Sirius to let him do so.

Sirius feels a bit like a wet cat as his damp curls drip onto the muted orange sweater he stole borrowed. He quickly grabs his abandoned wand off the counter and casts a quick drying spell, feeling the weight disappear off his head as his curls become light and bouncy once more. With a huff of satisfaction, he slips his wand into his pocket and opens the bathroom door to leave. Immediately, he hears a pleased mrrrp followed by Linette darting between his legs, purring and rubbing all the while. He chuckles, bending over to scratch at her cheeks.

“Finally more interested in me than the birds outside the window, huh, ma pépette?”

Linette purrs even louder in reply, rubbing so aggressively against his hands that she nearly stabs herself in the eye with his fingers. Sirius snorts inelegantly and scoops her up, letting her perch herself comfortably on his shoulder before he finally steps out of the bathroom.

Immediately he can smell the faintest hint of chocolate and nutmeg wafting from the kitchen. Warmth bubbles in his chest as he shuffles into the living room. On the sofa sits the quilt Effie gifted them when they moved in, Sirius’ heating pad folded with care on his seat. Gentle music plays from the wireless and he has to bite back a soft smile. Merlin, he loves this man.

“Have a nice bath, love?”

Sirius turns to see Remus standing in the doorway, two steaming mugs held in his hands. Linette chirps happily at the sight of him, and Sirius privately agrees.

“It was alright,” he hums lightly. “S’that for me?”

“Ah, no, actually. Figured I’d get two hot chocolates all to myself while my poor, sweet boyfriend wastes away on the couch all by himself.”

“How utterly cruel of you, Moons. I’m heartbroken.”

Remus snickers. “Go sit down, Pads.”

“Mm, alright.”

Sirius plops down on the couch, jostling Linette whose tail flicks in displeasure, and burrows under the cosy red quilt. Before Sirius can even think to do it himself, Remus has set the mugs down on the end table and grabbed the heating pad.

“Rem, I can—”

“No, I’ve got it,” he reassures. “Drink your hot chocolate, I’ll set this up.”

“If you say so,” Sirius says a bit reluctantly.

Linette drops off his shoulder onto the couch cushion next to him as he reaches for one of the mugs.

The first sip is heaven, always is. Hope Lupin’s hot chocolate recipe is a gift from Merlin himself.

“Godric, this is fantastic,” Sirius groans delightedly. Remus chuckles as he plugs in the heating pad.

“Isn’t it?”

“Tell your mother she’s a saint for me next time you phone her.”

“‘Course, Pads,” Remus says as he walks back over, careful to avoid tripping on the cord. Linette hops down and starts smelling it curiously.

“C’mon, baban, leave it alone,” he chides while batting her away gently.

“Aw, leave her be, Remus! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could chew on the cord and be electrocuted,” he deadpans. Sirius blinks.

“Right. Forgot Muggle technology is utterly terrifying. Carry on, then.”

Remus snorts and picks her up, setting her on Sirius’ lap which has already started to warm up. She purrs, cuddling into the heat and closing her eyes contentedly. Sirius runs a hand through her fur while he takes another sip from his mug. A weight settles next to him on the couch as Remus cuddles up to his side, reaching over him to grab his own hot chocolate from the end table.

Sirius hums happily, tilting his body into Remus’ and melting against the cushions. A little peck on his temple makes a soft grin slide on his face and he lets his eyes fall shut.

“Thank you for this, Moons.”

A hand reaches out to tangle with his own, squeezing gently but firm. “Of course, cariad. You mean the world to me.”

“You do, too. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you, you know.”

Remus hums, pressing another kiss to his head before he says softly, “Well, good thing you don’t have to, then.”

[dewracle]

Rituals and Bones

OC! Vessel X GN! Reader NSFW MDNI Quick reminder guys this is my version of Vessel and the boys, none of this is canon unless you're talking about MY (AruEternity's) LORE!

Tags: Smut, Vessel x reader, blood play, major character death, domestic violence, fucking in the woods, choking, ritualistic sex... if there's more please tell me

It was dark, but not the kind where it was difficult to see where you were going. No, it was the type where trees soared high and blocked most of the light struggling to filter through, making the atmosphere eerie, yet peaceful. The weather was perfect for your adventure of hiking through the woods. It allowed for it just to be warm enough that you didn’t freeze but just cool enough that you weren’t sweating too badly. 

You have never been in these woods before, hearing about them from a friend of a friend. She had said that there was a beautiful opening much deeper in the forest, where the trees parted and gave away to a small little pond. “The most peaceful place,” the girl had said as she gave you the directions.

Of course, it was a peaceful place once you had reached the big entrance to the circle. The trees gave way just like she had said, the birds chirped beautifully as the local deer stayed in the tree line. What you hadn’t expected was a man kneeling down in front of the pond.

He seemed to be wearing ritual-like clothing, almost as though you had interrupted a beautiful moment between him and some type of witchy moment of his. The man seemed to have a mask placed next to him as well, noticing the red and white flowers crawling up to the three sets of eyes staring up at the sky from where it lay. 

You accidentally step on a stick while trying to turn around to leave the male in his own peace. He quickly turned around, half expecting it to be a deer but instead, he is met with your curious eyes. Your body freezes as you put on your best smile, awkward as it may be you did your best to make sure the male understood you were no threat to him.

“H-hello?” You cringe at your timid voice, clearing your throat before trying again, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” 

The male shakes his head and moves to stand, subconsciously reaching for the mask before he stops, fingers seemingly itching to grab at the item. He brushes back his dark hair, the length reaching just above his shoulder. To you the man seemed beautiful, almost too perfect to say the least. 

He shakes his head and offers you to come over by waving his hand in front of him in an elegant manner. “No you’re okay don’t worry.” 

You sigh internally happy that the male wasn’t too upset with you. As you sit closer to take in the surroundings once again, the light darkening just softly, just enough so the grove wasn’t too hot and or sunshiny. 

“Again I’m sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing..” You trail off yet again as you got closer to the beautiful man. With a hand reaching out offering up a greeting, you spoke happily. 

“My name is,” He pauses to stop slightly, before smiling at you, flashing a handsome white smile, “Elliot.” 

He takes your hand in his and instead of shaking it, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on top of your hand. You blush slightly from the interaction, weirded out but also now even more curious about this strange gentleman in the woods. Elliot lets go of your hand and walks around the pond, looking into it as though he was looking at the most amazing thing in the world. Though you can agree it is beautiful, the lily pads that had grown cover the top hiding away the fish. The tall lush flower in the middle hold home to many tiny insects that almost cutely look at you as you step closer.

You sigh softly at the amazement of the tiny fish that dance around the pond. It really was a beautiful place just like your friend had said. The man looks up at you, catching your glaze in the process, he smiles softly yet again before he begins to speak of a weird god named Sleep. “You know it’s not often many people come here nowadays,” He pauses to add a dramatic effect like you would in a speech, “It seems almost everyone has forgotten about the lovely pond I use to worship.” 

You tilt your head in confusion but motion for him to continue his spill, almost creepily wanting to drink up everything the male says. “Its so peaceful here I can almost hear Sleep whispering to me, ‘Go do great my child.’” Elliot laughs softly and shakes his head, looking at you with so much peace and joy in his heart that you can’t help but feel the same. You sit your bags down, ignoring the soft rattle of all the bones you had picked up along the journey. You didn’t know who this “Sleep” was but the way Elliot seemed to talk about him made you feel as though he was safety and joy, calm and protection. 

“So Sleep talks to you how?” You ask while sitting down near the edge of the pond, watching as a fish swims curiously closer to you. It bobs its head as the male across the pond begins to speak with his praise. “Through my mind, the cards, my resting time, Sleep he is everywhere…” He preaches softly, looking at you to make sure you were paying attention. When he notices you staring at the fish in the pond the beautiful face turns sour, brows knitting together with a curl of his lip. He takes a quiet deep breath and replaces the face with a much more welcoming one before you could even notice.

You look up and smile softly at the other, eyes full of wonder as you question and listen. “So Sleep is a god? He’s all-powerful and knows everything?” 

At your question, Elliot’s face lights up and he smiles brightly showing off his beautiful fang-like k-9 teeth, something you had not caught before. It doesn’t bother you at all, in fact, you find yourself wanting to stare at him more and more.  

“Of course, my lo- My Sleep is a god! He is the greatest god we know of, except for you, my dear…” He purrs the last part, almost inhumanly, the way his words rolled off his tongue entices you to listen in. You hum softly in acknowledgment, listening further in as he details how great Sleep is. Slowly as he talks the sky begins to turn dark, the crickets now chirping their songs instead of the birds, the deer running off to find a safe place for the night. The trees going eerie with how dark it had gotten, their branches seemingly losing their leaves to the cloak of the night. The fog rolls in, covering your lap and Elliot’s feet, the hooting of an owl breaking the trance you both were in. “Oh, its night time…” You mumble and look at your phone, just now noticing you had no battery after it having been on the whole day.

Elliot looks down at you, noticing your slight worry, and smiles softly, the perfect timing. “Are you going to need help getting to a safe place my dear?” He asks softly, coming closer to you after picking up his mask and putting it on. You nod your head and begin to stand, brushing off the grass from the bottom of your pants. With a sigh, you grab your backpack full of your collection and sling it over your shoulder once again. “Definitely, I’ve never been here before..”

The male nods and waves for you to follow him, normally you would have not but after spending the whole day with the strange male, you felt oddly at ease and comfortable with following him. 

The two of you walk to a small cave that clearly has been used, a small burnt-out campfire with a small blanket laid on the ground. You look at it strangely but brush it off assuming since Elliot has been here before this must be his mess. 

“I’m sorry it's not much it’s just all I can find in quick notice,” He says softly, almost as though he was upset he couldn’t bring you to a better place

You shrug and sit down on the little blanket, brushing off any dirt that may have made its way onto you. With a sigh he sits down the opposite of you, looking at you up and down, taking in your features yet again. Elliot hums softly and works to start the fire again, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and sorting through the old but unburnt wood. His voice echoing through the small cave in a beautiful wave, filling you with yet again burst of energy and peace.

“So how does one worship Sleep… I want to know so I can.” You casually bring up while running and hand through your hair, watching as Elliot slowly looks up at you with curious bright eyes. He stops humming, those bright blue eyes turning to look into yours, his smile bright yet again as though he was prepared to hear the question come from your mouth. 

Different gods had always excited you, bringing a new wave of curiosity as you researched them. You had known almost all the gods that the average library and a quick but in-depth Google search would allow you, so learning about such a god that is worshipped so heavily by this man seemed perfect. 

Elliot looks at you with wonder and smiles happily, ready to launch himself into the detailed worship rituals for Sleep. “There’s many my dear, many such as chants in other tongues, sacrifices of bones that are harvested from your own kill, complex rituals, the list goes on. I can detail some of them for you if you’d like.” You shake your head no, understanding that this wouldn’t be as easy as you had originally thought. Believing that maybe it was as simple as taking a nap and reciting a few words beforehand seeing as the name of the god was Sleep after all. “Is there not any that we can do now?” You ask leaning closer to Elliot, getting lost in those eyes that held the blue Atlantic in them.

He chuckles lightly, a blush slowly forming from his neck up to his ears, he turns nervously looking around the cave taking in its beautiful details. He began mumbling softly, avoiding your question, not prepared to answer it truthfully. 

With a head tilt, you reach out to Elliot, gently touching at his knee trying to pull his attention back to you and your question. The male jumps at the touch causing you to pull your hand away from him, not wanting to cross any type of boundary there may be.  The dark-haired man sighs softly, clearing his throat before looking back at you, the blush now slowly fading. 

“Well, there is another way…” You nod urging for him to continue, “I can show you but I would need your consent to touch you first my dear.”

You thought for a second, allowing the words of the other to mix together to form a sentence. Elliot was talking about sex, a practice of worshipping through combining two bodies. This wasn’t abnormal for most gods, any believing sex and intercourse to be a high form of worship. In fact, you have done things that were more out there then something as simple as having sex with someone.

With a soft hum, you look Elliot in the eyes, smirking seductively as you whisper just loud enough he could hear you, ‘I give you my consent Elliot…” 

He clears his throat at hearing this, standing up to his full 6’2 height, towering over your sitting form. He crouches down closer to you, getting in your face, brushing his nose against yours. “Good pet…” He whispers softly before kissing you passionately, spreading your legs as you return the kiss with a soft moan at the intensity. He pushes your legs over his hips, gently guiding you to lay down flat against the blanket, his hips now flush with your own. 

He wraps his hand around your throat, lightly resting it there as he nips at your lip, drawing a gasp from you, allowing him access to your mouth. Elliot licks into your mouth before pulling away leaving a string of spit between the two of you. You whine softly reaching for him, pulling him down by the edges of his long jacket, kissing him again, drawing it out much longer. 

Your hips buck up against his as he slowly trails the kisses down from your lips to your neck, there he bites softly, bruising a hickey into your skin. Your face, warm as the blush travels upwards, a soft moan leaving your mouth as Elliot uses his mouth on your hip. 

“So good underneath me…” He whispers in your ear after leaning back, kisses it softly before moving back to pull at your shirt, looking at you for permission to continue. You give him a small nod, putting your arms up helping aid him in getting the offensive shirt off. He groans so lowly it can only be described as a growl at the sight of your skin, so smooth as ready for him to litter with marks of his own. 

Elliot takes off his jacket, necklaces still on hitting the smooth skin of his pecks and stomach, your mouth watering slightly at the sight now that you were truly able to look disrespectfully. Wanting to trace your tongue over the muscles of the other’s stomach, you lean forward, tracing your hand over his flexing stomach.

He flinches softly but groans lowly in the back of his throat, enjoying the touch of you to his skin. He grabs your hand and moves it closer to his semi-hard cock, sex twitching in your hand as your own begins to scream for attention. You whine softly and squeeze, palming it gently in your palm, bringing the male to a full hard-on. 

With a soft sigh, you lean back against the blanket, arching your back and spreading your legs to grab the other’s attention. Elliot moves forward, grabbing at your pants and underwear, looking at you for permission to take them off with slightly shaking hands. You give him a pleading look before pushing your hips up, allowing for him to quickly pull them down, exposing your needy sex.

You moan into the cave, your voice echoing due to the cold air lapping at your need. Elliot laughs softly and kisses your stomach, looking up at you with hooded lust-filled eyes, “Darling you’re so needy for me already.” 

He kisses further down to your hip, to your thighs then finally reaching the spot you wanted it the most. He teasingly blows the cold night air against your entrance before sitting up with a smile on his face. You whine as he pulls away, wanting him to give you exactly what you need, knowing that the man probably could pick you apart so easily. Spreading your legs further you bat your eyes up at Elliot, pleads falling from your kissed red lips, “Please please oh god please…” Elliot only chuckles softly, and shakes his head, “There is no god here but Sleep my love.” He purrs gently, reaching down to brush two of his fingers against your lips, pushing them past them into your mouth. You moan around the digits, licking and sucking on them as you would if it were to be his cock.

“That’s enough…” He growls out, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, moving them closer to your entrance. The man rubs them around your hole, wetting it before pushing one finger in slowly, carefully to make sure you are not hurting. He looks at your pleasure-filled face, your hips pushing down against the intrusion, needing and wanting more than what he is giving you. You sigh softly and wiggle your hips down further, signaling to him that it was okay.

Elliot slowly pulls his finger out, pushing it back in at a slow but steady pace, stretching the cute hole of yours, all for him to break and use it. He sighs softly, palming his own cock at the sight in front of him. 

You push your hips down one more time and whine loudly as he hips the little bundle of nerves inside of you by accident. The other smiles widely before leaning down and spitting at your entrance, slipping in another finger to prepare you.

It wasn’t long before he was fucking you roughly with his fingers, pushing them in and out while spreading them to stretch you perfectly for his cock. Every inward thrust was an attack on your sweet spot, rubbing and playing with it as though he had nothing better to do. Your whines and whimpers of pleasure growing louder the closer you get.

Everything was wet, ready, and needy for Elliot to touch, but he purposely ignored you, focusing on spreading out your already prepared hole. “Elliot, please.. For the love of everything fuck me!” You snap, sitting up on your elbows to look at the other. 

That is when you take note of his actions, his cock was beautifully on display for you, glistening with precum that had dripped down his shaft as he played with his balls. He looks up at you as though he had been caught, caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Elliot whines softly before getting closer to you, pushing you to lie flat.

He edges closer to you, pulling his fingers out and wiping the wetness onto his cock, groaning lowly in his throat at the sensitive touch. The beautiful eyes from before look at you, almost pleading as he whines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, staring into your eyes, asking for permission to push in. 

“Please… Come on you can fuck me good~” You moan out softly, trying to entice the worshipper. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, holds it, and pushes inside of you.

The two of you both moan softly at the spark of pleasure, bodies growing even warmer as he stops to look down at where you are connected. He laughs in pleasure, a hand grabbing at your hip to hold you down as he pushes halfway in. You whimper softly, covering your mouth to hide the pleasurable pain from the stretch. Looking up at him with eyes full of lust as he thrust the rest of his cock in, filling you nicely. 

Elliot stays still for a second, allowing you to readjust to his girth, smiling softly at the soft pleasured moans escaping your mouth. He leans down close to your ear, nipping at it softly while whispering sweet praises, “Taking me so well love…”

The pace starts slow, his hips pulling his wet cock out before he plunges it back inside of you, shots of pleasure running up your spine. You move your hand to wrap around his back, digging and clawing your way into his back, marking him up as yours. A soft whine escapes your mouth as he angles his hips to slowly but deeply pound into your sweet spot. 

You moan loudly, the wet noises of your entrance squishing around his cock, taking him in so deeply. Whimpering softly you push your hips down, trying to buck up to quicken the pace. The grip on your hips tightens, pushing your hips to the ground keeping you from moving, keeping you from speeding up the achingly slow pace. 

“What’s wrong pet? Can’t handle it slow? But you’re handling my cock buried inside of you” He teases in your ear, nipping and licking at it slowly, kissing down from your ear to your jaw. He leaves small hickies here and there, bruising you as his as you had him.

Elliot bites down roughly on your shoulder blade, teeth sinking into the skin as his cock slows down to a barely moving pace. The bite slowly starts to ooze blood causing your eyes to roll back in pleasure due to the unexpected pain. He chuckles as he pulls back to lap at the blood now making its way down your shoulder.

You whine moving your hips, trying to push the other to move again. He takes the hint and picks up the pace, fucking into your hole with a much rougher pace than before. Elliot chuckles softly and tilts his head at you, smiling with those sharp fang-like teeth. “You tasted so fucking good darling…”

With your eyes rolling back, you arch your back in pleasure feeling as the male above you pounds into your sweet spot again, drilling you and filling you full all at the same time.

The wet sounds of your entrance sucking him in further echo through the cave, his and your moans mixing together into a sweet melody. Elliot softly groaning in pleasure, eyes closed as he leans down into your shoulder, licking at the bite mark again, trying to draw more blood from it. You whimper as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, the pounding of the cock inside of you making your insides quiver. Just as you were about to reach your peak, panting with short “ah”s as he pounded into you, Elliot forcefully wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly as he continued chasing his own pleasure.

A pathetic whimper leaves your mouth as the pressure around your throat slowly increases to a point of worry. You try tapping at the male’s arm, signaling for him to let go, but he refuses, giving you a soft almost lovingly smile as the world around you begins to look spotty. Your head begins to feel fuzzy, the dark black spots during into you slowly losing the last bit of air in your lungs. Darkness taking over as you feel Elliot still moving inside of you.

When you wake you feel the heaviness of your body, everything hurting as though you had been dragged from hell and earth again. Voices, there were so many voices to be heard, talking as though they were pleading and begging for someone. 

“Vessel, please! I want first dibs!” A voice whines loudly, causing your ears to ring at how thick and loud the accent was. You tried moving your head to look at the source of the sound, but your head was heavy with fog from losing oxygen. A soft whine leaves your throat, no one picking up on it due to the arguing from another voice.

“You always ask for first dibs III, it's my turn now.” Another softer voice argues back, keeping a calm tone but with an edge of irritation.

Someone clears their throat and all of the voices stop, everyone seems to hold respect for the person, “I decide who goes first, I think our lovely IV deserves first for once.” That voice, you knew that voice, it was Elliot, the same man who choked you to the point of passing out during a “ritual” for his god he seemed to worship. 

Finally, you were able to look up, opening your blurry eyes to see that you were being held by someone, the final person who didn’t seem to be speaking at all. And there stood Elliot, wearing the same red and white floral mask you had seen from before. But now the male seemed to be holding power, the way he stands shows he was relaxed but also in control of the situation. 

He notices you are awake, slowly walking closer to you, you attempt to struggle out of the 4th person’s arms, struggling with all of your might but failing miserably due to him being stronger than you. Elliot looks down at you, taking note of the bruising around your neck, finding it turning a deep purple and black from where his hand had wrapped tightly. “Looks like the sacrifice finally awoke,” He says loud enough for everyone to hear, he grabs your face and lifts it up, making it so you are forced to look around you.

There stood two other masked men, their faces covered by a black material that had a symbol painted on, the same damn symbol on Elliot’s mask. 

One of these masked men stood at an impressive 6’4 in height, his bright blue eyes staring down at you in a creepy excitement, something no one should have to see. The other stood much shorter than the rest of them, standing at an almost cute height of 5’6.

The leader of the group, Elliot now deemed Vessel, grabbed you by the shirt, lifting you up a little bit taller so your feet were dangling off the ground. He stared at you for a second before gently petting your chest. You cringed and kept quiet to hopefully be able to survive whatever was going to happen.

Vessel glares at the one behind you, still holding your hands to your hand so you couldn’t escape even if you struggled more. The hand on your chest began to push and push, taking your breath away as you silently screamed. The pain growing heavier and deeper as the tears fall down your eyes, your feet kicked in the air as you tried your best to get away from the pain. Sadly you weren’t able to, feeling the deep crack of your bones in your chest, they gave way to the pressure of Vessel’s hand.

The deep red blood of your blood coats Elliot’s hand, your chest ached as his hand dove deeper and deeper inside of you. You screamed loudly, begging for him to stop slowly losing consciousness yet again, this time you didn’t wake up. Once Elliot had reached through your chest, he dug around searching for the right organ, the heart. The others sit back and watch as your body falls limp, no longer having any resistance. II, the shorter one perks up, eyeing the organ in his leader’s hand, craving the delicious taste of blood straight from the heart. 

Vessel takes your heart, biting into it, chewing and swallowing the fleshy still slowly beating heart. He hums in delight when IV shifts around, looking at him with needy eyes. The red and white masked man grabbed your heart, sipping the blood as it spills from it, grabbing the man that had been holding you up. He carefully pulls the other’s mask up and watches as he opens his mouth. IV staring between Vessel and your body, opening his mouth for the other.

The leader of the cult spits the blood into the 4th vessel’s mouth, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. IV hums softly, bowing his head as he lets go of your body, dropping you to the cold forest floor. Your body hit with a thump, going limply everywhere, with blood and bits of bone messing up Vessel’s body paint.

After he finished spitting into IV’s mouth, he walked over to II, the shorter looking up at Vessel with a tired but eager expression, loving the moments of blood sacrifices. II sighs softly and pulls up his mask, reaching up and grabbing lovingly at Vessel’s cloak. The taller laughs softly and leans down, pecking II on the lips before slipping his tongue into the other’s mouth, letting the blood spill into his mouth. The drummer moans softly and swallows the blood, pulling away from Vessel to look over at IV who was now staring back at him. Creepy. 

III, the tallest masked member bounces back and forth on his heels, ready to get on his knees for the other when it was his turn. Vessel, slowly turning away from II, turns to III rolling his eyes with a soft but bloody smile. He bites into the heart again, getting more blood to fill his mouth, walking over to the taller. III kneels quickly, wrapping his arms around Vessel’s legs, pulling him closer with a pathetic needy expression. He whines softly and lets Elliot lift his mask up, your blood still being held inside of his mouth, growing colder than it was supposed to be.  Vessel leans down and looks at III’s beautiful blue eyes, forcing the other to open his mouth, leaning down even further to spit the blood into his mouth, letting the thick liquid coat his throat happily. The singer pulls away from III and stands in the middle of the circle, bowing his hand and clasping his hands together, praying.

All at once, all four of the vessels hear a loud booming voice in their heads, growing antsy with the anxiety that comes with it.

“Good job my vessels. We will rise soon”