#i have so many ideas about this it’s not even funny

[jarofstyles]

‘Tis The Season

Hello my ducklings! I have pure filth for you, and it’s been so long since I’ve given you guys any Wolfrry so I figure you’d enjoy some after a little drought!

Send in requests and feedback

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Warnings- breeding, knotting, use of the word 'bitch', degrading, unprotected sex, wolfrry, its an au so the world is diff, etc

WC- 2k

------

The beginning of spring was always a magical time in the pack.

The snow melted and little flowers began to sprout. The sunshine warmed them up, the crisp air and emerging leaves sent a new layer of hope into the coming year. It was the true new year for them, something that put a spring in their step and warmth in their hearts, defrosting them from winter

Y/N sat in Harry’s office, next to the tall alpha as he looked over her plans for the pack gardens. “I think that’s a good idea, but I’d move the peas over to the side.” She mused, letting her body melt as the man’s arms wrapped firmly around her body. As much as she knew she needed to pull away in order to finish these plans… it was the season, wasn’t it? “H… We really need to finish the plots.” Her breathy voice echoed in his office as his hands lifted her dress up and his teeth grazed her mating mark. She shuddered, sagging in his arms- the man was playing dirty, but that was the one spot that would make anyone melt. Having your mate brush it, lick it, press it? It felt like the aftershocks of an orgasm. “Y-You’re not playing fair.”

“No, I’m not.” He hummed. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t have to. You can play hard to get all you want, little mate, but I’ve been able to smell that sweet cunt since you’ve left our bedroom this morning.” The accusation made her want to fight- but there was no ground to stand on. She had been helplessly horny all morning. It was the beginning of the mating season, the breeding season, and she was panting for it. Of course she was trying her best to be a good leader, to get on top of plans, but was it so wrong for her to want to look at her strong, handsome, powerful mate? To see his green eyes darken when he caught her scent, to have him corner her and have his way with her because that's what she dreamt about? It was just in their nature.

“S-So what?” There was one last stitch effort to pretend she wanted to work on the plans. “I’m always wet for you.” It was the truth. It was hard not to be when the man had proved time and time again he was the most incredible lover to exist, that he knew her body like the back of his hand.

“I know that. All I’ve got t’do is walk into a room and you’ll roll on your knees and present that perfect cunt for me to fuck.” He chuckled, making her whine. She always got worked up when he talked to her like that. “That’s why it’s so fuckin’ funny t’me that you’re trying to continue this charade. Acting like the point of being in here is for that blueprint when in reality, all you want is for your mate to bend you over this desk and knot you up.” He was quick about it, following his words as he roughly bent her over. Her tits crinkled the papers they’d just been working on as she let out a gasp, her dress being flipped up and a rough palm slapped the curve of her ass.

“Look at you. My sweet little bitch, came all prepared for my cock.” He crooned, using his foot to knock her legs open. She was obedient, deciding not to even feign a fight because this was exactly what she wanted. “Should spank this ass raw for running about the den with no panties on and your silky cunt bare for anyone to see, but we both know all of them have no mistake on who you belong to.” He’d taken her so many times where people could see, let them watch as he plowed her into a whimpery, sobbing mess. It was no secret that their Alpha was the one who owned Y/N.

“M’sorry, Alpha.” She bleated, cheek pressed against the wood as she heard the distinct clink of a belt buckle and the pull of leather through the loops on his pants. It sent a wave of excitement through her, knowing damn well she was in for it. She’d poked the beast, literally and metaphorically, and now she was going to suffer- or enjoy- the consequences.

“I don’t really think you are, my love.” He murmured. “I think that you’ve been gagging for my cock and I didn’t fuck you hard enough this morning. Was nice and soft with you, showered you off and everything. Let you go about your day… But I didn’t fuck you hard like you beg for. Silly me, making love to my mate, my wife, during the breeding season.” His tongue clicked as she heard his pants fall down to his ankles. “I should’ve known that my pretty bitch needed to be bred properly. Needed to be fucked until your knees were weak. You’ve always been a bit of a whore for it, haven’t you my Goddess?” Y/N couldn’t think of anything other than his cock that had begun to rub through her embarrassingly wet folds, a soft keen leaving her mouth.

Harry was right. She was desperate and hot, needy for him in all the ways he’d just described. Y/N couldn’t deny that she really did need to be fucked stupid during this time of year. Don’t get her wrong- she adored when he was so soft and sweet with her, whispering about how perfect and beautiful she was. But when this time of year came around, she wanted to be used. To be filled and fucked and see his most primal part come out. It was only natural.

“Please, I want it.” Her pathetic simper came out as she wriggled her hips, trying to taunt him. She knew damn well that he would give it to her but she was going to play into it even more.

“I know you do. Could’ve just told me you needed a good fuck, but you like to play games instead.” He wouldn’t admit that he liked those games just as much. The sharp slap on her other ass cheek resounded around the room as he got her to stop teasing him with her ass shaking, notching the tip of his prick in her hole. “Since you want t’be a whore, I’ll give it to you like one.”

Her breath was stolen as he entered her in one go. The sting of the stretch made her yelp but her toes curled as she was finally full, his heavy hand pressing her down between her shoulder blades. Keeping her pinned there and pulling out just to repeat the action, she moaned loudly at his rough treatment of her. This was what she needed. A dirty, quick, hard fuck. “Yesssss…” She elongated the word only to be cut off by a wet gasp, his hips thrusting into her again. “Give it to me, please. Please, Alpha.”

“Now she’s begging.” He laughed,a  cruel undertone to his words. “Pretty slut is begging for my cock like she should have done to begin with. I know you need it, but I forget every year just how much of a desperate, wet cunt you’ve got.” His pace started to steady, rocking her on the desk while she whimpered at each press inside of her. Her body was quite literally made for this, made for the stretching and filling and being knotted but Harry’s cock was fucking big. The biggest she’d ever seen, and people sure as hell weren’t shy about nudity around here.

“Now you can’t even talk. Finally got a prick stretching you open and that smart little mouth can’t form words. What about those plans, huh?” His snicker was followed by a harsh thrust. “Silly girl. Should’ve just gotten on your knees and begged.”

Harry loved this season. Loved how Y/N became a little minx, slinking around and trying to figure out how to get him to pounce on her. Like he wouldn’t drop everything to give it to her if she just asked. It was entertaining to make her do the work for it, like a little game. As much as he said he didn’t like them, he liked feeling her desire, knowing she was a little shy even still about asking him for sex- except when she was in heat.

“M’sorry, I just-” She whined as his cock began to fuck into her a bit faster. “I just want you all the time. I can’t help it.” If she had it her way, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom. The scents were crazy right now, everyone throwing them around to attract each other if they weren’t mated. All she wanted was his scent smeared all over her, she wanted it coating her body and there to be no question, even if they had visitors.

“I know you do. My beautiful cockslut. I love that you want it so badly. I’ll give it to you…” His words melted into her being as she felt a thumb brush against her ass, gently pressing in- and she was gone. He knew her weaknesses and this was one of the biggest.

Y/N’s brain could only focus on the pleasure. His hands on her and his growling, her cheek being pressed into the wood as she panted. She’d probably have bruises on her hip bones but she’d wear them with pride. It felt like she was just a hole to fuck and that’s how she wanted it. Letting him use her and reaping the benefits of his primal instincts raising up with his pretty mate splayed out for him. She lost count of the moans she let out as her nails sharpened, scratching the side of the desk as she began to feel his knot.

“Please Alpha, Please, please, please, I want it.” Her pathetic mewls only seemed to spur him on. “I want your knot, I want your cum, please give it to me. Give it to me, give it… I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be your bitch, please-” Y/N sobbed into the wood as he pounded her into her end. She squirted, releasing a gush of wetness over his thighs and trickling down her own as her thighs shook, a high pitched sound leaving her mouth as she felt him give one sharp thrust to be filled with his knot.

She felt it expand, her whimpery mess of a face being pulled up slightly as he folded his body on top of her, grinding inside of her cunt to continue her orgasm and work his cum inside of her. “There you go, goddess. Perfect little breeding bitch, s’what you are. Made to take my knot, my cum, my children.” He growled, babbling as his teeth grazed her mark and made her shudder. His eyes flashed before he closed them, grabbing her hair in his fist and angling her mouth so he could kiss her with the grumbles in his chest calming to a purr as he was stuck with her. Her orgasm had splashed all over the both of them, his balls and thighs wet and her poor cunt stretched and full. Her ass would need a salve from his spanking, but that’s how he knew it was good. She’d been flaunting herself around his office for a reason, and now they were both sated… for a while, anyways.

“I love you.” She slurred, bleary eyes looking up at him. “Love you Alpha.” Her sweet words softened his heart, a fond smile tilting up the corners of his lips. No matter how rough he went on her during sex, this woman was his soul mate. His goddess. No one could ever comprehend how much he loved her.

“I love you more than the moon and the stars.” He whispered, nudging his nose against hers sweetly. “My sweet Goddess. You own me.”

[gretavanmoon]

S17

Spinning Now: "Birthday Sex" by Jeremih (2009)

Pairing: Danny x female reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Description: Danny's always been that friend and roommate who you never thought of as anything more, until a birthday proposition presents itself in a way that neither of you can deny.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Heavy Flirting, Praise, Dirty Talk, Touching, Wax Play

Smut: Kissing, Oral M!Receiving, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex (use protection!!)

+ This little diddly of an idea has been swimming around in my head for months now, and I've been so excited to get it going. And thanks to the reader who suggested it be a roomies trope ;) Hope ya like xoxo

Girl you know i i i...

HER POV

White or red?

There is no special occasion, simply just the bi-weekly dinner gathering of your friend group that has turned into an every-Thursday-night habit. Not that an occasion constitutes your wine choice, but still yet, the thought quickly crosses your mind. You are all meeting at your and Danny’s house tonight, along with the conjoined group of friends that has been steadily keeping each other fed for the past two and a half years, now. 

You’d been living with Danny for as long as you could remember, taking claim of his spare room sometime after everyone collectively moved out of your parents’ homes. The arrangement worked perfectly, the two of you already knowing how the other ticked after being friends for many years. Your jobs kept both of you busy, giving the other enough room that you didn’t feel like you were invading space in the small house. 

You pull your phone from your pocket as you peruse the wine selections, texting the group chat to check on tonight’s menu. 

You: What are we making tonight again? I already forgot

Jake: Salmon and quinoa and some other stuff

Jake: God your memory sucks

You: Emma, come get your man he’s being mean to me again

Emma: Quit picking on her babe 

You: Ok so I should get white wine, right? Pairs with fish?

Sam: Just get three fuckin bottles of wine, who cares

You: Ok I’m not coming if you guys are gonna continue to harass me

Sam: Too bad it’s your house and you have to be there anyway

You: I’ll lock myself in my room I don’t care

Danny: No Y/N, if they’re gonna be assholes they don’t have to come over. They can stay home and we can order pizza :)

Jake: Shut the fuck up Sam, I’m making the damned salmon and quinoa

Josh: What the fuck is quinoa

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you roll your eyes, the buzzing still consistent as you imagine they are still arguing with one another. 

It's funny how much Danny has been defending you lately. He’s still his normal self, your very good friend who sometimes lets his sweet side get the better of him, but in the past couple of months, something has switched. The more the brothers pick on you, the more he stands up for you. It used to be the opposite, with him joining in on your playful dog-piling any chance he could get. But ever since a couple of months ago… ever since his last birthday…

Almost three years ago now, you and Danny had found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms in his bed after a drunken night that started out like any other, dinner, socializing, cards, and way too much to drink. It was his birthday party, and after everyone else had cleared out, you stayed up to clean up the multitude of plastic cups and empty bottles that were scattered around the house. You were both fairly drunk, and you knew if you got the majority of the party cleaned up that night, you wouldn’t have to bother with it all while being inevitably hungover the next morning. 

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, Danny. I’m about to call an Uber to go stay with Emma.” You’d said as you dried the last of the dishes. He was sprawled out over on the loveseat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his mess of curls pulled up on top of his head. You’d always found him attractive, but you’d always been positive he was way out of your league. He’d never even given you a passing glance in that way. Except, that night, he looked exceptionally delicious… and your hazy, drunken mind undoubtedly had started to drift.

“What? Whyyyyy…? Don’t get an Uber, it’s too late,” he’d slurred as you walked over to sit on the ottoman his feet were rested on. 

“Becauseeee… it’s your birthday and I don’t want to interrupt your time with whatever guest you might have coming over.” You remember the words felt heavy in your mouth, like it was strange that you had never talked about Danny’s personal life out loud before. Or yours, for that matter. Even after all the years of being friends and roommates, the two of you had always taken things as they’d come… watching as strangers made their way in and out of your bedrooms without a second question.

“Guest?” His face contorted. “I ‘ont have a guest coming over, Y/N…”

You’d let your mouth gape open and your hand clutch your chest in a display of over-dramatics. “Really? No one to give you a happy ending on your birthday?! You must be falling off the wagon, Wagner.” 

What you do remember, though, was how hard he laughed at your half-assed attempt at a shitty joke. 

“I swear! Just me, tonight.” It was at that very second that you remember becoming enamored with the way he licked his lips, how he clicked his tongue just a little, and how his eyes had fluttered closed under his lashes. He’d reached his hand out for you to grab, so you did. 

“You gonna let me be lonely on my birthday, Y/N?” His warm fingers slowly worked their way to interlace with yours. This flirtatious tone wasn’t something you’d ever seen from him before, but for some reason, you found yourself tumbling for it. The deep rasp in his voice signaled something else, something so unexpected from him that you almost laughed it off as him kidding with you.

Your eyes had glanced around the room in confusion, and when you didn’t answer, you felt his foot kick into your leg, bringing your eyes back to look at him. His eyebrow was cocked in the air, as if he was waiting for an answer. 

“You’re drunk, Danny… you don’t…” you’d anxiously answered, nodding your head side to side in disbelief. 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want me to… stay…” for some reason, he was making you nervous, and you were having trouble answering him. There was no way he wanted you to stay, of all people. No way in hell.

He’d laughed, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to take you in his arms in a giant bear hug. His face was buried into your shoulder, pulling you close in the warmest embrace you’d had in a while. It was strange feeling him this closely, and you shivered a little at his touch. You’d hugged him back, and then felt his lips drift close to your ear. 

“I actually do… want you to stay here with me. In my room, in my bed, until tomorrow morning…” his voice crackled in your ear, the faint scent of spicy tequila still on his breath. It’d sent chills all over your body, and you had to admit, it was a strangely welcome feeling. Danny had never been this close to you, like this, ever before. His words had shocked your system, though, temporarily deeming you unable to respond. 

So when he finally pulled back from the hug and confidently met your eyes again, you let yourself go with it. You were still fairly intoxicated, but this drop dead gorgeous friend of yours who had hardly ever given you the time of day was now throwing himself into your lap. Why turn him down? It was his birthday, after all. 

“I never knew you were into me, Danny,” you’d cooed, watching as his fingers drifted across the back of your hand. 

He sat back and dropped his head against the cushion again, cracking his fingers above his head. “I‘ve always been into you, Y/N. You’re gorgeous and fun, make me laugh… always been so good to me.”

You’d never admitted it, but of course you had pictured yourself with him a time or two. How could you not? Talented, handsome, kind and genuine…always looking for fun and always including you in his outlandish plans. But this…him laying it out on the line like this? It had your body beginning to physically yearn for him, completely out of nowhere. 

“Stop playing, no you haven’t…” you’d argued, still in disbelief. 

He held his hands up in surrender, cocking a sideways smile. “I swear. I just… never had the guts to say anything…”

You contemplated it all for a second, giving him a questioning look that begged for his reassurance. 

“Why not, ya know? Not like we’re strangers…” you’d muttered through a sharp inhale.

You stood from the ottoman and slowly began stepping one foot in front of the other toward him, standing just between his legs. Your heart rate spiked as you answered him, your face flushing with the reality of what you were about to do.  “Just a birthday hookup, huh? Just this one time?”

You let your hand brush against his thigh, your fingers lightly tickling until they reached his hip. It felt as though your hands were disconnected from your body, making their own decision to reach out and touch him as he sat reclined in front of you. Gently, his hands pulled around your waist, his thumbs digging into the flesh, strong and inviting. 

“Just this one time…and that’s it.”

That night, the two of you stayed up until the winter sun was striking through the windows onto Danny’s white down comforter, and only then did the two of you finally drift off to a short but sweet slumber, until the alarm on his phone woke you both in a panic. 

You’d fallen asleep upside-down on the bed, both of your heads at the foot of his king-size. His arm was draped across the small of your back, and his hair was still a messy bundle of curls at the back of his head. 

“Fuck,” he’d muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, it’s your alarm…”

Suddenly, now, in the light of day and the brightness of the room, the both of you became very conscious of your unclothed selves. You’d felt your cheeks blush at the sight of him, skin still dewy with the after-effects of sweat and sex. You didn’t miss his passing glance of you, too, still halfway wrapped up in his sheets as he maneuvered to the top of the bed to check the time.

“‘S only seven. Shit, I’ve got a headache…” he said, running a hand over his face. 

“Me too,” you mumbled as he laid back down beside you. You pulled the covers up a bit more over your body, feeling extremely exposed in the bright sunlight. He propped himself up on his elbows, giving you a sweet and questioning look. “So, what are we supposed to do now?” you’d asked. “Cuddle?”

His laugh bounced off the walls, the glitter in his eye sending a wave of nerves through your body. 

“We cuddled plenty last night, Y/N. We didn’t end up falling asleep until like, six,” he said, his voice groggy with sleep, or lack thereof. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night, I know you have things to do all day–” he cut you off with a kiss, his neck craning down to meet your lips with the sweetest surprise touch. 

After a few fleeting seconds he pulled away, meeting your eyes as he spoke again. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Y/N. I asked you to stay in here. Asked you to keep me company on my birthday.” His hand reached up to pull the hair away from your cheek, bringing instant flashbacks of his hands on your face and shoulders last night as he pinned you down, fucking you into his mattress. “I was just completely unaware that both of us would last for that many hours…” he laughed, rolling away to cover his face. 

“God, Danny, don’t embarrass me!” you laughed along with him. 

“What is there to be embarrassed about?! Shit, I think we were great together,” he went on, holding his hand out for you to low-five.

You pursed your lips together, letting your hand clap onto his. “We were, weren’t we? Never would have thought.”

“Shit, I thought about it all the time…” he admitted. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you played, smacking him across the chest. 

“I don’t know, you’re just a girl in my friend group, ya know? My roommate that helps me with rent…didn’t want to freak you out or something and make you hate me,” he explained.

You propped up on your elbow, shaking your head at him. “So we could have been doing this all along?”

“Oh, so you enjoyed yourself, then?” he countered, rolling you to lie on your back as he pulled himself over you again. 

As you gazed up at him above you, small curly strands falling around his face and onto yours, you felt your face get hot, the same need you felt in your stomach for him last night coming back full force. A need you never thought you would have for him. A need that came back to you over and over again the night before, and left you both too exhausted to even bother to see the morning.

“Danny, we fucked like five times, of course I enjoyed myself,” you tried to keep the confidence heavy in your voice. 

His nose scrunched up as he giggled, light and airy into the room. He laced his fingers with yours, lifting your hands together into the air and pulling them back down between you again. This time, you took the initiative and kissed him again, straining to keep things from moving as quickly as they had moved once you finally climbed into his lap on the couch last night.

When you finally separated, both of you refraining from letting it go any further, he disconnected your hands and clenched his jaw. “What do we do now?”

You didn’t want a relationship. And neither did he. That much was very known amongst your friend group, the both of you way too busy with your own lives to devote your time to another. You stood strong in that decision, and you knew for a fact that he would, too. So your mind began wandering, thinking of ways to end this entanglement you’d found yourselves in. 

“What if we just… did this sometimes?” you proposed. 

His brow furrowed. “I’m listening…”

“Our birthdays. Yours in December, and mine in June… it’s perfect. If the both of us are single on our birthday each year, we make a plan to not leave the other lonely…” The idea seemed preposterous, but at the same time, it didn't. A sure-fire way to make each of your birthdays interesting each year, and after the night you’d shared last night, you’re positive he wouldn’t turn the idea down.

His eyes dashed around the room as he considered it, taking a deep breath as he sat up in the bed. You caught a glance of his naked lower half, and your eyes rolled back on their own accord as you pictured his hips pounding into yours last night in the darkness of his bedroom. You sat up too, challenging his gaze. 

He held his hand out again, this time for you to shake. 

“Deal.”

—-

After deciding on the three bottles of wine, two white and a red, your mind begins wandering off by itself, causing you to hardly pay attention to the fact that you are singing the words to the song playing in your headphones out loud. You bite your lips, glancing around to see if anyone had seen you, or worse, heard your horribly flat singing voice. Luckily the aisle is clear, so you make a mad dash for the checkout line, ready to get out and head back home for dinner. 

The drive is short, and when you finally arrive in the driveway, you find that you’re the last one to get there. 

“Hello, hello,” you sing as you let yourself inside, kicking off your flip flops at the door. You set the bag of wine bottles on his island where Jake and Sam are busy preparing the meal. 

“Thank god, the booze is here!” you hear Josh sing through the house as he makes his way over to stand beside you, opening the drawer of the island to search for Danny’s wine opener. You set all three bottles in line on the countertop in a nice straight line. “Shiraz, Y/N? That’s surely a bold choice…” Josh says, rolling his eyes. 

“The label looked pretty, I don’t know!” you counter, shoving your shoulder into his. “It already smells really good, guys…” you say as you leave Josh to the wine, leaning over Jake’s shoulder as he stirs a pot at the stove. Suddenly Danny is leaning over his other side, sticking his finger in whatever sauce Jake is stirring.

“Aht, aht!” Jake swats his hand away just as Danny sticks his finger into the saucepan. “It’s not perfect yet…”

“Tastes good as hell to me,” Danny says, locking eyes with you as he pops his lips over his finger. You feel your insides churn.

“So Y/N, your birthday is next week, you guys planning your weird little bi-yearly birthday hookup still?” Josh nonchalantly asks as he yanks the cork from the bottle of red. Fortunately, it only took nearly two years for your friends to catch on to your and Danny’s little birthday agreement, when Jake inadvertently tried to surprise Danny with filling up his bathroom with balloons, only to find you bent over the bathroom sink. 

“Christ, Josh, you have to put it like that?” Danny intervened. “Geez…”

“What?! That’s what it is, right?” Josh says as he pulls glasses down from the cabinet. You feel your face blush, even though it’s an open topic, at this point. 

Danny pulls himself up to sit on the corner of his countertop. “No, we simply enjoy the other’s company on our birthdays because both of us suck at the dating playing field and always decide to indulge in one another’s availability, right Y/N?”

“That’s correct,” you confidently agree as you listen to the others groan.

Josh throws his head back and laughs loudly. 

“What?” Danny yelps.

“You don’t think it’s funny that neither of you have ever had a significant other on your birthdays for the past what, three years now?” Josh says, eliciting silent looks of agreement from his brothers.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think it’s funny. We both suck at dating, you heard him. This is just…our way of making sure we aren’t alone twice a year.” The attempt at explaining yourselves is transparent, at this point. You know you’re lying to yourselves. It's obvious. Each and every time you pull yourself from Danny’s bed, or he from yours, you feel your bones begging you to stay. You like him, you’ll admit it, but only to yourself. 

Twice a year isn’t enough, it was never enough. And you know for a fact that it will never be enough. On his birthday last year, you could have sworn you heard him say something close to the ‘L’ word as he came for the third time that night, his voice low and whining as you clenched around him, bringing him to his completely fucked-out state of mind. Each hookup had gotten hotter, heavier, and more serious. Each time was better than the last, and this last one was so intense, that you ended up staying in his room a second night, completely breaking your own rules. 

As you slipped out of his bedroom that second morning, his honey brown eyes were begging you to stay, his lips touching his fingertips and blowing it your way as you quietly shut his bedroom door behind you. 

That morning broke you. That morning your heart told you what it wanted. 

That morning was the last time you denied it to yourself– you were absolutely head over heels for him. The yearning you’d felt had begun overtaking your whole self. And it wasn’t just yearning, it was something else. Something more powerful, something you couldn’t grasp the notion of, because you’d never felt it before. It’s now become something that makes your days drag by with the thought of him, not only sexually but personally, too. You feel wrapped up in his life, intertwined with his decisions, and some days you barely even have the time to give each other more than a goodmorning and goodnight. Sure, you still meet up every week with your group for dinner, but the subtle touches and the intense glances that are being shared almost on the daily now have become too much. You want to tell him. You need to tell him.

“Hm. Okay, so… what’s the plan this year?” Josh asks, obviously wanting to pry into your business, just like always. 

“Josh, it’s none of your fucking business. Can you leave them alone for a second?” Sam says as he empties the box of rice into the insta-pot. 

“No, it’s fine. I have big plans…” Danny bites his cheeks in as he denies himself a cheeky smile, swinging his bare feet as he sits on the counter. His eyes are boring into yours, and you swear just a simple word from him would have you on your knees for him, anymore. 

“Big plans, huh?” you try to avoid his stare. 

“Mmmmhm…” he says, grinning to himself. “Might have you running away and never coming back, though.”

You nearly choke on the sip of wine swirling in your mouth. Throughout the years, you will admit, your hookups had gotten more and more mischievous as time went on, both of you pushing each other’s boundaries just a little more each time. Nothing had ever gotten too crazy, but after his birthday last year, it was an unwritten understanding that not much was off the table, at all. 

Sam plugs his ears with his fingers. “La la la I don’t wanna hear details!”

Jake pulls his wooden spoon from the sauce, turning to face all of you. “I do, I wanna hear it. Keep going. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not fuckin’ tellin’ you guys, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Danny argues as Josh hands him a glass of wine. 

“Okay well you can tell me after her birthday then, right?” Jake pushes. 

Emma steps in front of him, taking the now dripping spoon from his hand and running her tongue up the side to catch it from going into the floor. “Yeah Danny, maybe you should give him the rundown, maybe it’ll get his wheels turning,” she challenges, bouncing her eyebrows to Jake as she places the spoon back into the sauce. You laugh at her, feeling no embarrassment in the least. 

“Get my wheels turning?! What is that supposed to mean?!” Jake yells, grabbing her waist from behind and spinning her around the kitchen. 

You lock eyes with Danny again as he gives you a suspicious look of excitement, like he’s trying his hardest to keep his idea locked inside. 

—---

After a rambunctious and wine-drunk dinner, everyone begins to file out of the house, stumbling away to either walk down the street to their respective homes, or catching a ride out with other friends to the nearest bar. You’re left behind again, like always, helping Danny with dishes and pouring out the remaining bits of wine left behind in the glasses. 

“So, next week. The big 2-5. You still down for hanging out?” he asks as he dries the last dish, as if you would ever say no. 

“Actually, I think I’m going to spend this year alone, ya know? Keep it low key, order some take-out and curl up on the couch,” you say with a cheeky tone.

His jaw hangs slack as he nearly drops the towel in his hand. “Really?”

You scoff. “No, Danny. Are you serious? We shook on it, and I don’t break my promises,” you laugh. You slowly walk toward him, the line between friend and more than a friend getting blurrier as time goes on. You want to put your hands on his bare chest, press yourself against his warm body, crane your neck up to meet for a sweet kiss, but you don’t. Because you can’t. Because he isn’t yours. 

So instead you just simply stand before him, leaning a hand onto the countertop. 

He lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Shew, good. I was about to be pissed at you, Y/N,” he breathes as he playfully shoves your shoulder. “Standing me up on your birthday…”

You smile as you realize your feet are carrying you closer to him on their own. You try to stop them, try to tell them no, but you can’t. Now you’re standing in front of him, your chests almost touching as you let your finger trail up his arm to his neck. “I’d never stand you up, Danny. Not in a million years,” you murmur. 

You feel his body stiffen as you let your singular fingertip connect with his skin, your touch a featherlight drift. You glance down at his hand balanced on the cold marble countertop, his fingers tightening and loosening under the weight of his own want to touch you back. You hear him breathe in, fast and choppy as you begin to manipulate the line between friends and more, truly unable to keep it black and white no matter how much you try. Finally you let your eyes look into his, dark and brooding and looking a lot like they do after a few rounds of self-indulgence with you.

“Good,” he growls, “because I have a hell of a night planned for us.”

Us.

“Is that right?” you question, still trailing your fingertip across his arm and neck. You can see the chill bumps forming on his skin now, and you can tell he is physically restraining himself from succumbing to his mental constraints. You have to admit, you’re finding it very satisfying, watching his mind tell his body no. The muscles in his arms flex and tighten as you step closer, slowly tiptoeing to bring your faces close, your lips barely ghosting his. 

“That’s very right,” he whispers, opening his mouth slightly as if he’s going to kiss you, but instead pulling back a little. The proximity is enough to make you feel soaked already, your entire body buzzing with fire for him. 

“When do you want me ready?” you breathe, letting your lips graze across his, your finger now hooked behind his bicep. His hands are still gripping as he balances between the island and the countertop as he leans down to you, restraining himself still yet. 

He’s inhaling and blowing air quickly through his nose, and you know for a fact that he’s holding himself back with everything in him. His jaw clenches hard as his eyes stay trained on your lips. “Want you right now, if I’m being honest…” His words make the butterflies in your stomach explode their wings. 

You can taste the wine still heavy on his breath. “But it’s not my birthday, Danny…” you retort.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m getting to a point where I don’t care.”

You swallow it down. Maybe your thoughts are mutual… Your heart is absolutely racing, like it would do when you found out your elementary school crush liked you back. You don’t even know what to say, at this point, you want him so badly…your vision blurring with the mental snaps of the two of you wrapped up in one another again. 

“You should care, we have an agreement,” you admit through your teeth, as badly as it hurts to say it. “We set our rules.”

He scoffs hard. “I don’t remember signing my name on any dotted line, Y/N,” he spurts back, making you feel that drop in your stomach again. He wants to break the rules, too.

You bite your lips in, deciding to cut your losses. You step back from him, disconnecting your finger from behind his arm, and stepping away. The flushed look on his pink cheeks is enough to make you want to run back into his arms, and the look on his face makes it seem as though he just lost the one thing in his life he never planned on having, anyway. 

“I asked you a question, Danny. When do you want me ready?” you say strongly. 

He closes his eyes and recenters, swallowing down his thoughts. “Uh, uhm. F-Friday. Around 8.” He finally cleans up his expression and meets you with a smile again. “Be ready to celebrate.”

—--

DANNY POV

Friday rolls around more quickly than you thought it would. The group had decided to rain-check family dinner this week, planning on celebrating Y/N’s birthday the following weekend when everyone would be in town at the same time. 

Your palms had been sweaty all day just at the thought of what tonight would hold, and you realize that you hadn’t been this anxious for a night together with Y/N, yet. The nerves are positively eating you alive, but you shove them down, knowing that you shouldn’t be having them in the first place. She doesn’t feel for you the same way you feel for her, and she likely never will. 

It’s heartbreaking and wasteful, really, knowing that your sexual chemistry with her is only put to good use twice a fucking year when it should be being shared with her whenever you wanted to show her how much you really care, but. Here you find yourself. 

She’s taking up all the extra space in your mind these days. You feel like you’re floating on air each and every time the vision of her face pops into your mind, you feel like you can feel the blood in your veins rising to a hotter temperature than you’ve ever experienced, and you find yourself wanting to give her all the things she’s ever wanted, and more. Your friend, one of your best friends, you’d say, unknowingly spinning herself into your life in a way that you can’t even tell her about.

That last birthday you shared together, your twenty-fifth, wasn’t the same as the rest before it. Sure, fucking her was high on your list of excellent sexual experiences thus far, but that last time, shit. Had your head spinning for days after. Never had a woman gotten you more fucked up than she did after that night. Two nights, really. That was when you knew it was real. When you wanted to ask her to stay, don’t go… be with me here and don’t ever leave… But your pride got the best of you. So you let her walk out, taking every single last bit of hope you had to make her yours with her as she walked out your bedroom door. 

Could she not see it? Did she not notice how horribly you want her, all the time? Surely she doesn’t think you’re just being nice when you do little things for her… offer to change the oil in her car, take her lunch to work, send her every single funny meme and video you have ever come across simply because you know they’ll make her laugh…

Apparently not. But you don’t want to push too hard, too soon, either. If it’s meant to happen, it will. Hell, you hadn’t even told Sam about these feelings you’d been having. No one knows. This is a secret you’d kept bottled up for months now. 

You come back inside after a quick trip to the grocery store and gently place the items from your arms onto the island, making sure the champagne bottle doesn’t tip over and break. You stick the bottle into the fridge and remove everything else from the plastic bags before rushing into your bedroom to make sure it’s presentable. 

While she was at work, you’d spent the majority of the day cleaning up the general guy-ness of your bedroom, putting on a fresh set of sheets and giving the bathroom a good wipe-down. You’d never cared this much, for what she thinks of your surroundings…

…But you want tonight to be special. You want this birthday to be her favorite one, yet. And you’re determined to do so. You’d placed various candles around the surfaces of your bedroom, trying to make it romantic, but not so much that it will make her think you’re trying too hard.

When you decide that your room is as neat as it’s going to get, you go back into the kitchen and tear into the small cardboard box that’s been hiding away on top of your refrigerator for almost a month now. You’d seen an ad for it while scrolling instagram or something, and you knew right then that you had to get it. Your birthdays spent with her were becoming more and more experimental, and the idea for this year had fallen right into your lap. 

You rip the packing tape off the box, letting it fall to the wayside as you open the flaps, finding the perfectly wrapped 2 and 5 candles in all their glittering glory. Shiny, crimson red wax with metallic gold trimming, long wicks and a thickness that regular store-bought candles just don’t have. You smirk as you pull them from the packaging and lay them in front of her small cake- chocolate with white buttercream icing. Her favorite. A glance at the clock on the stove lets you know you have an hour until she gets home, so you scurry off to the shower to get a last-minute scrub before you inevitably hear her coming through the door. 

—--

Your stomach nearly falls to the floor when you hear the front door unlatch, and you find her a  tired and flustered mess after her long shift. You busy yourself on your laptop, trying your best to seem more involved with what you’re doing than watching her unload her things from her arms onto the table.

“Hey birthday girl,” you mutter without looking back at her. “How was your day?”

You feel her lean all her body weight across the back of the couch beside you. “Long,” she huffs, “but not bad.”

You find the confidence to turn your head to her, finding her resting her head into her palm as she eyes you. You have to reel it all back in as you feel her so closely in your presence again. 

“Good,” you reply, keeping it short. “Not too tired to skip our date?”

She hums a sweet laugh. “No. Most definitely not.”

“Are we…leaving the house? I’m trying to decide what to wear…” she asks shyly.

You have to remind yourself that she’s your friend, there’s nothing to be scared of, you do this all the time…

“No, actually. We’re staying home,” you reply.

Home. Your home, with her. 

“Eight o’clock?” she reiterates.

“Yep, on the dot,” you tease as she stands to make her way to her end of the house.

She sways down the hallway, tossing her jacket over her shoulder as she disappears into the shadows. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

—---

A few hours later, you’re leaned on the island swirling a lowball glass of tequila, waiting for her to emerge from her bedroom. You’d been standing patiently, fashionably early for your birthday date in the kitchen as you listened to the faint sounds of her music playing as she got ready. 

Your nerves are already shot, the tequila doing little to assist in qualming the nervous anxiety swirling through you. So when you finally hear her bedroom door open and her steps coming down the hall, you have to tilt the rest back in hopes that it will hit you a little more quickly. 

She’s dressed cute, but comfortable, and you can tell she did her hair that special way that you’d complimented a few weeks ago. She smells like sweet sugary flowers mixed with the woodsy smell of rain, and just her scent as she approached you was already driving you insane. 

You meet her in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing her hand to twirl her around into your embrace. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you mutter, your face falling into her hair for a second. 

Her arms lift around your neck, squeezing just a little as she places the sweetest kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Danny.” You allow yourself to hold her for just a second, your right hand gripping the wrist of your left at the back of her waist. 

“You hungry?” You ask as you pull away from her. 

“Yeah, whatcha making?” she replies, taking a seat at the island. 

You grab the box of the frozen pizza you’d previously thrown in the oven, displaying it for her. 

“Oh my god, my favorite!” she squeals. “I’m so excited.”

You laugh as you fold the box up, cramming it into the trash can. “Knew you would be. It’s not a five-star birthday meal, but. Let’s be honest. I can’t cook for shit, and you love this pizza more than you love a lot of things…”

“No, you’re so right. I’ve actually been craving it for a while,” she giggles. 

“Wait, I also gotttttt….” You make your way to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne. 

“Shit, pizza and champagne? You know exactly how to make a girl happy, Daniel.” She blushes a little, and you know you’re on the right track for the night. 

“You gotta open it, though. It’s bad luck if someone else opens the champagne bottle on your birthday,” you lie, scooting the bottle to her across the countertop. 

“You’re crazy. Give it,” she rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, twisting the key seven times and removing the wire casing. She stands from her chair, gripping the bottle in both hands as she searches for somewhere to aim. 

“At the wall! Just not toward a window!” you warn, closing one eye as she begins to push on the cork. Finally it pops off, flying toward the wall as the bubbly pours from the neck of the bottle. “Get it, Y/N, get it!” 

She cups her lips over the overflowing bottle, slurping up as much as she can before it flows into the floor. The two of you laugh as you bring two glasses over, letting her pour them up. Just then the timer for the pizza goes off, and the sound of the beeps reminds you that time is ticking, making your nerves rush for the main event. 

——-

After stuffing yourselves with pizza and downing the bottle of champagne, the two of you are piled up on the couch sharing a six pack of some crazy peach flavored beer she’d bought last week. 

You’re seated on the couch as she reclines across it, her legs in your lap. You’d talked a lot tonight, like more than you maybe ever have before. Sure, you’d been friends for many years now, but majority of the time, you’re surrounded by the other guys always intervening on your conversations, or interrupting your discussions. 

But after three hours of deep exchange, you swear you could talk to her until the end of time, and never get tired of it. She looks natural with her bare, sunkissed legs draped across your lap, and your hand that’s mindlessly drifting over her thigh and knee looks like it belongs there. 

Her drunken laughter bounces off the walls and right into your chest, making your entire self beam with happiness and adoration for her. The way she takes up space in the home you share gives you an inexplicable feeling. Roommates doesn’t even begin to describe what you want to title your living situation with her.

Your faces are blotched red and tears are falling from your eyes as the two of you come down from a laughing fit, and a sweet recovery silence falls over the both of you. Her eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, and her face is flushed from the belly laughs. 

“You’re really pretty, Danny,” she flits, making you whip your head her way. 

“What?” you ask, embarrassed. 

“You’re pretty. Well, you’re handsome, of course, but. You’re also pretty,” she explains, her words making you feel shy. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before…” you respond. Your hand grips into her thigh a little bit as your head falls back onto the couch cushion. You meet her eyes, the both of you staring at each other while everything else in the room disappears. You hold the gaze for a long while, each passing second making your breathing pick up. Fuck, she makes you nervous. 

Finally, she stands, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she reaches for you to take her hand. “Take me to bed, Danny…” she whispers. 

Okay. 

You slowly stand, keeping her hand in yours as she pulls you into the center of the room. Like magnets, your bodies are pulled into one another, your hands finding both of hers as you turn to walk her backwards down the hall to your room. You move in slow motion as the two of you glide across the wooden floors, taking your sweet, special time. 

You take her chin between your fingers, and push her hair back again before leaning down to press your lips to hers. It’s gentle and sweet and slow, her lips parting only just a little bit as you guide her down the long hallway. You allow yourself the indulgence of her lips, the feeling of her tongue gently swiping across yours, the flavor of everything that she is. It’s all perfect, she’s perfect. 

Her hands finally find your face and hair, entangling themselves like they always do, pulling you further into her. For this only being the sixth time you’ve done this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. It doesn’t make any sense that you waste your time thinking about it, instead of giving her the loving that she deserves. 

But you plan on showing her tonight. You may not be able to tell her, but damned if you can’t try your best to show her. 

“Wait, I almost forgot,” you pause as you approach your bedroom door. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” you command, squeezing her shoulders. “No peeking,” you whisper as you watch her eyelids close.  

You’d already strategically placed her cake on the table in your room, with two forks and no plates. But the last finishing touch is the sporadically placed candles. You grab your lighter from your nightstand and light them one by one, watching as the flickering flames cast a warm glow across your walls. Perfect. Lastly, you place the 2 and 5 candles in the center of the cake, but wait to light them. 

You slip back out into the hall, finding her still standing with her eyes closed. You grab her hands and pull her to walk toward you. “Keep them closed.”

Her smile lights up your entire world. “What are we doing, Danny? I’m scared…” 

“Don’t be scared, babe. S’just me…”

You pull her inside, instructing her to sit down on the bed as you grab the cake and lighter. You balance it in one hand and flick the lighter with the other, lighting the wicks of both the number candles. 

“Open your eyes.”

Her eyes flick open, finding the room completely illuminated with orange glow. “Ah, Danny…” she gasps, glancing around the room, and finally to the cake in your hands in front of her. 

“Hm hm hmm hm hmmm hmm…” you hum the Happy Birthday song, your voice a bit shaky and jittery with nerves. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” you say, watching as her eyes flick to yours, then back to the cake in your hands. She closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and blowing out the flames of her 25.

“You wanna know what I wished for?” she asks. 

You shake your head. “No. But I hope it comes true.”

You set the cake down on your nightstand and you sit back down beside her on your bed. You bring her in close again, letting your forehead balance on hers before you make contact. You swear to it, you could get lost in kissing her more easily than you could get lost in a foreign country. You’d kissed her a hundred times before, but lately…now…

Things move slowly, things move sweetly…normally the two of you waste no time in ripping one another’s clothes off, biting and scratching and devouring each other like you’re starved, but tonight feels like it deserves more attention than that. It deserves to be appreciated. 

Your hands drift to the bottom hem of her cream-colored eyelet lace dress, your hand drifting up her thigh. You pull the dress as you go, revealing her thong hugging her hip. Your hand slips below the waistband, and you run your fingers along it and down the front pantyline, the backs of your knuckles skimming across her heat. She whines a little at the contact, and you feel your vision growing blurry. 

You continue kissing her while slowly letting your hands explore her in a way you’ve never let them before, taking special care to pay attention to your every move. The kiss becomes more longing when you let a digit slip into her folds, feeling her wetness coating your finger for the first time in six months. Her hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling your upper body into her. You push her back to lay on the bed, never once disconnecting your mouths. 

Her left knee is bent into the air while the other one lies flat, so you push it to the side a little as your hand still hides in her panties. Her hand is yanking at the back of your hair as your featherlight touch drifts up and down, finally landing on her sweet spot. She cries quietly into your mouth when you land on it just right, using your middle finger to swirl her wetness across it. 

She sits up a little, reaching to your back to pull your cotton t-shirt over your head. You disconnect for just a second to help her, and toss it to the floor. “Mmm there you are,” she mumbles, her hands rushing across the skin of your chest and arms while you go back to work. 

You feel her legs spread, giving you the ok to move further. You let your two middle fingers dip inside of her to the hilt, her muscles already tight and twisting around you. “Fuck baby, you’re tight…” you pull away long enough to say. With your words she tightens around you on purpose, clenching herself as you begin pumping your hand in and out of her. You start to wonder if you’re the only one she’s slept with since December. Not that it’s any of your business, but, lately you’d decided that your feelings for her had gathered so heavily in your chest that that six month gap would be worth it, if it meant she could be all yours.

You watch her face in awe, suddenly feeling no ounce of shyness in the least in watching her come undone around your hand. Her bottom lip bites into her mouth as her eyelids flutter open and shut, and the sounds that escape from her lips make you realize how beyond ready for her you are. 

You continue pumping your fingers in and out of her, feeling her drip down onto the bed sheets below you. “You wanna let go like this for me, baby?” you ask, having trouble keeping your breaths even. 

“No. Yes, but no…” she concedes. “Wanna… want you…”

You smirk. “Go ahead, Y/N, we’ve got all night. You know how we are...” You take the opportunity to twist your fingers inside of her, turning your arm so that your palm is now pressed against her heat instead of perpendicular with it. You lean down and lick a stripe up the side of her neck as you leave your fingers buried deep, stopping the pumping altogether and instead wiggling the tips of your fingers against the spot deep inside her. 

“Fuck Danny,” she breathes. “Keep it there keep it there…” Her eyes squeeze shut as you watch her chase her high, her hand squeezing at your pec and gripping onto it with everything she has. 

It’s impressive really, how much you’d learned her body after just being with her a handful of times over the course of three years, learning her ins and outs and what drives her crazy for you, and stowing them away at the back of your mind until the next birthday. 

You make quick and heady work of brushing your fingers across that spot, pressing your palm against her clit and adding just the right amount of circular pressure in both places. Her legs fall open even further and her head tilts back, all of her muscles tightening as she cries out, giving you her first orgasm of the night. And you had barely even removed any clothing yet. 

When she’s done, you gather up her wetness and pull it onto her stomach under her dress, letting your middle finger massage it onto her skin. “Fuck…” she breathes out, wiping the hair from her face. “That didn’t take me long,” she laughs.

“No, it didn’t,” you agree, sitting up on the bed. “Must be excited to see me.” 

She sits up and stands from the bed, pulling her flowy cream dress up over her hips and hiking one knee after the other across either side of you. You lean back away from her straddle, resting your arms back on the bed as you get a good look at her, already glowy. She reaches up and clasps her hands behind your neck. “Very excited to see you,” she admits shyly. 

“Hm, really? You see me every day,” you poke, trying to feel out her level. 

“Yeah but we can’t do this on random Tuesday afternoons, or in front of our friends, now, can we?” she presses, letting her hips fall onto your lap. You reach one finger to her chest and trail it up to under her chin, pulling her into you. Your heart begins pounding as you fall into a ravenous kiss again, this time bringing more heat than you even began to touch on a few minutes ago. Your hands fall to her waist, pulling her down onto you as she moves her knees to sit closer, pressing your chests together. Your hands travel across her thighs and to her waist, then finally around to grip her ass. 

Though your tongue is burying itself deeply into her mouth, you’re metaphorically biting it. You want to tell her that yes, you do want to move things in another direction with her, you do want to hold her hand in front of your friends, you do want them to know how crazy you actually are for her. So in an act of boldness, you try. 

“Maybe not in this regard, but they probably wouldn’t mind a little PDA…” 

She giggles as she wraps her hands in your hair. “PDA? Like flirting with each other? In front of them?”

“Yeah, just like that. They already know we sleep together sometimes, they have to know we, ya know… are allowed to let it flow into days that aren’t our birthdays…” you swallow the words down, feeling so anxious that she may take them the wrong way, or hate them altogether. 

“You think they’d make fun of us?” she asks, her mouth kissing behind your ear.

“Oh yeah, they would. But, I’d be there to slap the fuck out of them if they embarrass you,” you respond, squeezing your hands into her hips. 

Her tongue is tickling the sensitive skin around your ear as she lays tiny pecks near your hairline. “I think I’d be okay with a little flirting… sometimes it almost happens naturally, anyway,” she says, making your heart rate soar again. 

“Really?”

She nods, coming up to face you now, her cheeks tinted the palest pink. “Mmhm, sometimes I have to stop myself from touching you in front of them. You know, just innocently.”

You swallow hard, knowing the exact feeling all too well. When you’re surrounded by your friends making dinner or whatever it may be, you’ve found yourself having to stop your hand from grazing across her lower back as you walk by, from leaning down to kiss her cheek, anything, all the time. She’s right, it does feel natural to want to do that. 

“I do, too, actually,” you admit. “You… It feels normal to me. Just a reflex.” You buck your hips up into her as you speak, your body begging you for some contact. 

The whimper that leaves her chest ignites that deep carnal instinct inside you, wanting, needing to connect yourself with her again. You gather the soft fabric of her dress in your hands, signaling to her that you want to pull it off. She lifts her arms above her head, allowing you easy access to tear it all the way off of her. As her hair cascades back down over her shoulders you realize that her dress didn’t require a bra. So, you’re left staring at her left only in her thong, her breasts sitting more perfectly than you remember them. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, I swear…” you grit, raking over her body with your eyes. 

She hops off of your lap, motioning with one finger for you to stand. When you follow her order, she falls to her knees, working her fingers to unbutton your jeans. “Fuck, wait,” you say. Her eyes glance up at you through her eyelashes. “Pull your hair back.”

She does as you say, pulling her hair into a ponytail at her neck while you undo your jeans with one swift movement. She gets done with her hair quickly, swatting your hand away and pulling your zipper down. “Take them all the way off, Danny,” she demands, and the backs of your knees hit the mattress as you lean over, kicking them and your underwear off one leg at a time. You kick them to the side as she walks on her knees closer to you, taking your already over-hard dick in her right hand, licking her lips just a little before she swirls her tongue around the tip. Everything had just happened really fast, her urgency making your blood pump. Her tongue flattened out against you, and she pressed you all the way to the back of her throat, almost making your knees buckle under you. 

She grabs your hand, pulling it toward the back of her head. You take the signal and wrap your hand around her hair just as her lips meet your base, and you hold her there, feeling the saliva already beginning to pool in her mouth. “God damnit, baby, fuck you’re so good at this. Don’t even need my help…” You loosen your grip and allow her to drag her lips across your shaft, adding hard suction as she slowly ascends off. 

“Want your help, though. Do it…” she motions, so you do. You use her ponytail to guide her up and down you, forcefully pushing and pulling on her head just like she likes it. The first time you did this, you were a bit thrown off, as you’ve always just let whoever was pleasing you do whatever they felt. But she likes it when you tell her when and where you want her to be. 

The candles are physically heating up the air in the room, providing a heat that feels like a heavy blanket on your skin. Your mind flashes with remembering the special candles, and you feel a spark of excited electricity shoot through your body. The baby hairs around her face are beginning to stick to her forehead as her eyes glance up to look at you, doelike and pleading. 

She hums onto your dick as you squeeze her cheeks together, taking a hard hold on her jawline as your opposite hand guides her motions. Your head falls back as you feel the knot tightening in your stomach, but you can’t let go just yet. Her tongue swirls around your tip and the sounds that her mouth is making sound downright ruthless, spurring on your albeit degraded current situation. 

She moans onto you as her lips pull on and off, all by the force of your hand. You pull her hair particularly roughly, watching as the string of saliva connects her mouth to you, still. You take the second to sit down on the bed, physically unable to stand for another second without losing all will to hold yourself up. She moves in closer and digs her nails into the soft skin between your legs, sending a shake through your body. “Mother fucker baby, keep going with that…” you say, biting your bottom lip as you watch her. She scratches at your skin a few more times before you finally decide you can’t take it anymore, pulling and pushing on her head at a quicker pace. 

“Mhmm…” she moans as she nods her head ‘yes’, and you feel the deep rumble in your stomach, telling you that you’re not far. She kisses her lips down tightly on you this time, flicking her tongue in all the right places as you feel her throat tightening around you. 

“So fuckin’ deep baby, shit…” you say as your hips jut forward a few times, your dick hitting the back of her throat. Suddenly you feel your world falling apart as you let go into her, the dim orange light of the room turning into flashes of black and white as you send your streams down her throat. You wrap her hair around your hand as you hold her just where you want her, pulling her closely into you as you hiss through your release. 

When you finally take a breath and your vision unblurs, you watch as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, standing to her feet again and joining you on the bed, a completely smug and satisfied look on her face.

“The fuck are you grinning about, huh?” you ask, pulling her in toward you again. 

“Nothin’, I just really love being the one to make you make noises like that,” she says, biting back another smile. 

“Well, you’ve got me figured out, seriously,” you compliment her, and it was the absolute truth. 

She shrugs you off. “Eh, I’m out of practice, really.” 

Oh?

“No way, you’re like… well seasoned,” you kid. 

“You dick!” she yells, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t even done that in six months.” You can tell she regretted saying it as soon as she did, suddenly avoiding your eyes and pulling one of your pillows up to cover her chest. 

“...You’re kidding,” you breathe, truly in disbelief. 

She shakes her head. “Lame, huh?”

“N-no, not lame. I–You haven’t, since…?” you stammer.

“Nope. Since your birthday. Go ahead, laugh at me all you want,” she says, motioning with her hand. 

Her words hit you right in the gut. She hadn’t been with anyone since you…

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Y/N. I… I actually haven’t been with anyone else, either.”

Her eyes meet yours in disbelief. “Really?”

You nod. “Not this time around.”

She sits for just a second, hugging the pillow to her. “Why not?”

You shrug, the nerves bubbling in your stomach. “I dunno, no one’s really…struck my interest. Not enough to bring back home, anyway.”

She pulls one shoulder up toward her ear. “Yeah, mine neither. I’ve…tried, ya know, but.” She swallows. “My birthday is my favorite holiday for a reason.”

You can’t stop the joy that rises in your chest, your extremities tingling and your heart beating in your ears as she basically admits she doesn’t enjoy anyone but you. She hasn’t made it work with anyone else in six months. 

“Six months is a long time to wait, Y/N,” you mutter quietly. 

She pulls the pillow down, moving closer to you on the bed. “Not when what you’re waiting for is all you can ever think about.”

Fuck… it feels like your head is going to float right off of your shoulders out of a pure high at her admission. Your chest gets warm and your mouth goes dry, and you swear if you were looking in the mirror, there would be stars in your eyes. 

She feels the same. 

After a few seconds of disbelief, you find the nerve to answer her, a hardly audible whisper as you bring your face close to hers. “I think I’d wait for you for fifty years, if you wanted me to…”

Her hand cups your jawline as she grits her teeth, pulling you into her again. Your mouth wants to devour her all over again, but instead you take note of the tender moment, laying a sweet kiss to her lips that has a promise behind it. 

Her eyebrows furrow together when you pull away, a look you’re familiar with but also one that told you she’s confused. She opens her mouth to speak, probably to ask you if what you’d just said is true. But nothing comes out. She just stares at you in disbelief. 

Your hand finds her hip as you yank her body in with a little force, almost nose to nose now.

“Yeah, you heard me right. I’d wait for you, I will wait for you, if that’s what you want me to do…” you say, feeling so anxious for the outcome of this conversation you could almost be sick. It’s either going to end really really well, or so badly that you’d end up alone in bed tonight. But the risk outweighs the outcome, and you are ready and prepared to take it, whatever it might be.

She swallows hard as you watch her eyes become glazed. Her hands are balancing around your neck and across your shoulders, and you can feel the heat rising in her palms as her digits nervously fidget. It feels like a hundred years pass in the time you wait for her to respond, and you contemplate taking it all back. Making up an excuse, saying just kidding, we’re just friends… But the panic stops as soon as she finds her words. 

She shakes her head. “Wait for me… you’d, you wanna actually…?”

“Be with you more than just twice a year? Yeah, Y/N, I really would. You– you kinda have held a really special place for a long, long time now.” You swallow again, letting the words you’ve kept pent up for so long finally flow, but still feeling a little embarrassed by the admission. “I just never said anything, ya know, because of our arrangement. It worked so well for us but. I… I don’t know. It feels like more to me, lately.” 

She nods hard again, a tiny smile crossing her lips as her eyes stay trained on yours. But she stays quiet. 

“Can you say something, Y/N?” you ask through a huffed laugh. 

“It is more, Danny. It’s been more to me for a long time, too. You take up more space in my mind than I’d like to admit,” she says, now avoiding eye contact. 

Wow… finally. Finally, there it is.

“Why do we both deny it?” you whisper.

She shrugs, massaging the back of your neck. “I don’t know. But I don’t really want to anymore.”

You wrap your arm around her torso, pulling her weight from underneath her as you lay her flat on her back. 

“Then we don’t,” you say as you tower over her, the candle light flickering in her eyes and off of her skin. Her body is beautiful, there’s no denying that, but what has always gotten you is how she carries herself…how her body language is always reflective of exactly what she’s feeling in the moment. And right now, as her midsection arches up into you begging you to touch her again, you have no other thoughts than to appease her. 

Your mouth travels down her chest and across her belly, leaving long, lingering kisses across her body. As you get closer and closer to her heat, you move to kneel on the floor just as she had for you earlier, slipping your hands underneath her to pull her to the edge. Even in all your wild, drunken sexual adventures with her, for some reason, you’d never concentrated on this. You’d never gone down on her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, as it was one of your favorite activities, but the immediate pull to one another on these nights always ended up with getting straight to the good part. Neither of you really ever left time for the embellishments. 

She perks up onto her elbows as she gazes at your face between her legs. “Danny…”

“Let me show you what I mean, baby,” you more ask than say, running your tongue down the inside of her thigh. Her body stiffens as she still gives you that look of hesitation. Your tongue drifts over her opening as you tease her, barely ghosting overtop of everywhere but her sweet spot. She shudders again. “Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No! No I want you to. Please. You’ve just…” she finally relaxes her head back down. 

“I know I haven’t. And that’s on me. But I wanna show you that I’ve been thinking about this, doing just this since the last time I had you…” you explain, finally delving your tongue deeply into her. Her reaction is immediate, her back arching up again as her hands find your hair. The sounds she makes make you strain to keep it together, and the taste of her finally on your tongue is enough to make you want to stop altogether, and get to the good part, but you savor this instead, realizing you’ve wanted her like this for so long. 

You squeeze your lips over her, inching your tongue languidly inside of her and moving it back up to circle her clit. When you finally find it, she squeals, exhaling as her hands rip into your scalp. You glance to the head of the bed, pulling down a pillow and positioning it underneath her back to get a better angle. Your hands snake under her again, squeezing her ass as you pull her in. 

“Fuck Danny, why did you hold back on this for so long?” she asks through a pant, her legs opening and closing over your ears. “Shit…” You realize that you don’t really have an answer.

She’s writhing and fighting herself, and you can tell she’s nearing the peak, until she backs off again, likely wanting to make this last. She hums and purrs as you work over her clit, using your tongue and lips to kiss every single drenched inch of her. You feel like you can’t get enough, until you remember. Her birthday gift. 

You slow things down, pulling away a bit until you see the disgruntled look on her face at the disconnect. “No, don’t stop… don’t go..” she begs. Her expression is desperate, and you want nothing more than to feel her lose herself at the mercy of your mouth. So you dive back in, this time with a purpose.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, baby,” you manage through kneads of your tongue against her. You bring your arm up between the two of you, using your elbow and hand to press her legs apart while your free hand’s two middle digits enter her again. Your tongue never lets up, circling and swirling furiously as her muscles tense. You take that as your cue to work harder, feeling her clenching around your hand already. You pump in and out of her again, making sure your tongue is pointed exactly where she needs it.

“Fuck, Danny baby… yes…” she breathes, and the pet name sends a shockwave straight to your dick, hearing her utter your name followed by a word so personal. You cup your lips over her clit, using a quick and harsh suction motion as you flick your tongue across it.

When she finally lets go, her cries and slurs of curses echo through your room, the most beautiful sound you’re sure you’ve ever heard. Her hands stay tangled in your locks, forcing your face into her as close as you can get. You savor it all, the sight, the sound, the taste… you wonder why you ever denied yourselves this piece of the puzzle after all this time, but then again, maybe saving something this intimate for right now is exactly what was supposed to happen. 

Her body jolts and shakes as she lets the pleasure wrack through her, and you devour every last bit. You crawl up her once she opens her eyes again, her hand freeing from your hair and back down to your face, pulling across your cheeks and mouth as she wipes her wetness from you. Her voice is strained as she finally speaks. “Fuck that was…”

“Fucking delicious,” you finish, pressing your lips to hers again, making her nod into you.

“Yeah, fucking delicious,” she agrees, wrapping her legs around you and using the leverage to pull you onto her. If you weren’t rock hard before, you surely are now after witnessing her falling apart for you like that. You can tell she’s already ready to get things going again, but you stop her, pulling away like you had done before. You stand from the bed, watching that same look of disappointment come across her features. 

“Don’t look at me like that, just wanna give you your birthday gift,” you say, walking around the bed to your nightstand. You grab the cake and place it carefully into your lap, grabbing the lighter again as she comes and sits beside you. 

“I already blew out my candles, Danny,” she says, balancing her chin on your shoulder.

“You did, but I didn’t tell you that these are special candles. Not meant to be blown out,” you explain, flicking the lighter to life and igniting them both.

“Not meant to be blown out? Why–”

“Because they’re really an oil,” you say, putting the lighter down and grabbing the plastic tray under the cake again, holding it up between you. “These are candles specially made for us to let melt and drip onto each other. Not like regular wax, these don’t burn as hot. Once they start to melt a little, they turn into a body oil.”

“Like a massage oil?” she asks, and you nod. 

“Mmhm, see, you can already smell the lavender and bergamot. They had birthday cake scented, but. I thought that might be overkill,” you smirk. Her eyes drift down to the candles with intrigue, and she bites her bottom lip in. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But, I’ve heard good things…”

She picks up one of the candles from the cake, carefully licking the icing off the bottom. She holds her opposite hand out palm down, and lets the melty wax oil drip down onto the back of her hand, a few droplets of dark red liquid dripping down between her fingers. 

“Doesn’t burn at all,” she says, reaching to grab the cake from you to set on the table again. She then takes your hand, letting the wax drip down onto your hand, too. 

The sensation is more of an extremely warm electrical pulse than the burn you’d expect, and it quickly dulls as the oil cools. It doesn’t harden like normal wax, instead it just turns into a thick oil. You take your other finger and rub it across your skin, feeling the softness of the lotion-like liquid sink into your skin. “Wow, no, it feels good,” you agree. 

“Lay back,” you suggest, and she does, handing the candle off to you. 

You question the situation, not knowing exactly where to drip the oil to make her feel the best. You assume maybe her chest and stomach, maybe even down her legs, if she feels up to it. You hold the candle directly above her sternum, raising your eyebrows in final question before you let it drip. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” she says, her hand landing on your knee. 

The red liquid finally falls through the air, a singular drop that lands and splatters across her chest. Her mouth opens just a little, but then her surprise quickly turns into a devious smirk. “Feel good?” you ask. 

“Aha, yeah, actually. It burns pretty bad for a split second but it goes away…shit, do more,” she pleads. 

You go along with her request, drizzling tiny drops between her breasts and down her stomach, nearly completely coating her in the oily liquid. 

“You sure you like it?” you ask as you watch her face repeatedly turn from a surprised grimace into a devilish look of satisfaction. Thankfully, that second look, you’re more than familiar with. 

“Yessss…” she hisses as another drop falls onto her skin. “I feel so…” her mouth lies open as you continue letting the oil drip and pool, the floral scent filling your nostrils.

“So what?” you ask.

Her eyes bore into yours as she bites her lips between her teeth, her hand still gripping hard into your leg muscle. “I like the pain. It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it…” she breathes. “Like a sensation I don’t want to ever end.”

You take your free hand and gently massage it in, taking time to work over her nipples and stomach. “God, that feels so good…” she whispers, her hand now digging into the muscle of your thigh. You place the candle back on the cake, turning to pay special attention to rubbing your hands over her muscles. 

The heady scent of the oils mixed with the residual alcohol still flowing through your system brings a whole new dizziness to the atmosphere, and you feel as though the whole situation is only becoming heavier. You reach over to your phone sitting on the night stand, and flip your music to some psychedelic playlist. The distorted guitar and scratchy bass sounds bring you both to a new plane, and you take the moment to recognize the woman you have your hands on, and how she feels underneath them. 

Her eyes flutter open and closed as your hands drift, massaging the soft oils across the mountains and valleys of her body. “You want me to do you?” she asks, eyes flicking back to the candle. 

You shake your head. “No, shh. It’s your birthday, just relax.”

She smiles a little as she gets comfortable again, moving her body a little closer to yours on the bed. Your hands travel up her shoulders and neck, slowly kneading the tense muscles. Then you move on to her hips and waist, squeezing at the thickness of her. You feel yourself getting turned on all over again just by touching her this way. You watch as her hands drift across the tops of her legs, gripping at her own thighs. The visual is almost too much, watching as her fingertips pull at her skin. You reach to grab the still-lit candle, adjusting your body to sit beside her legs. 

“‘M gonna try your legs, that okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, go ahead…” she mumbles, her eyes still rolling around behind her eyelids. You move between her legs and let the wax drip onto her inner thighs, not really caring if any lands on your comforter. “Ffff…” she hisses, biting onto her bottom lip. Her face contorts from pain to pleasure as the oil cools, and you replace the candle, making your way back to massaging her. 

Your hands nearly cover the entirety of her upper thighs, your fingertips digging into the skin just as hers had done a second ago. You push the oil all around, paying special attention to start at her knees, and slowly work your way up. You have half a mind to lick into her again, seeing it now from this view, but you stop yourself. Your thumbs rub into the creases where her legs meet her heat, and she practically moans out at your touch. 

“You’re being such a fuckin’ tease, Daniel,” she says, her hands cupping her breasts.

“Mmm, I don’t think you understand how hard it is to stop myself right now…” you huff. 

She bites her lips again and shakes her head side to side, obviously feeling the same emotions as you. This doesn’t feel like it normally does, and you feel more anxiety than ever to satisfy her. You watch as she reaches her hands for you, signaling for you to get things going. 

“Don’t stop yourself then,” she stutters, her voice almost shuddering. Her hand grips into your hair again and pulls you up, your hands crawling up either side of her as her nails claw and pull at your back. 

Suddenly your mind finds itself again as you remember to grab protection. You balance your forehead on her sternum, both of you already panting and sweaty as you pull yourself away to reach for your bedside drawer. 

“No, just—it’s fine,” she says, grabbing onto your arm. 

You meet her with a puzzled look, not quite understanding that she’s changing her mind on a whim. This is one part of your agreement that you both have always stuck to. 

“What? I’m—“

“Just…it’s fine. Don’t get it,” she says, giving you a look that could kill. “It’s been six months…right…”

You think it over, rolling the thought over and over in your mind. “You sure?” 

She nods, “Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I’m…we’re good. I promise.”

You feel your heart growing in your chest, feeling a new wave of anxiousness and…something else bubbling up. It’s almost blinding you to even think about what’s about to take place, this already feels so different than before. 

The slick of the oil across your chests make your bodies slide against one another as you line yourself up, both hands on either side of her head. Her hands gently drift across your hips, a devilish smirk sneaking across her lips. 

“Gonna feel you for real for the first time…” she says gently, looking more excited than you’d seen her in ages. 

“Yeah, no pressure,” you answer, pressing yourself through her folds. The sensation alone is making you quake, feeling her against you without a barrier. 

“What, you nervous or something?” She asks, digging her nails into your scalp. 

You clench your jaw, feeling the tip enter her just a little bit. “Kinda.”

“Daniel…shut up. No you’re not.”

“I swear,” you reply, pressing in just a little more. “Different now, like this.” You feel your heart beating from your ribcage. 

Her hands grip behind you, pulling you in towards her, but you hold back. “S’okay, just me… please…” Her legs lift and her ankles cross at your lower back. 

You push forward, telling yourself it’s okay to fill her all the way to the hilt. It’s now or never, and you’ve waited so long for this, wanted her for real for so long. You make sure to watch her face as you bottom out, taking in every single detail that you can. 

HER POV

It’s almost dreamlike…

The dim and comforting glow of the room, the sweet scented oil that’s relaxed your muscles, the dying feeling of excitement from the gift Danny had gotten you…

But mostly, the feeling of his body towering over you and buried as deeply as he can get, finally without the use of protection. 

You’d been wanting Danny for real for longer than you’d like to admit, now, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s almost as if you couldn’t have dreamt it up any better. Of course he feels nervous…you do too. Something in the air has shifted, and it’s not just because you both had finally admitted to wanting more than your predisposed agreement. 

“Fuck, Danny…” you can’t help but yelp in a pitiful high-pitched squeal. Feels just like you always thought, but somehow better. 

Much, much better. 

He begins to pick up a pace after you lock your ankles against him harder, forcing his hips to find a rhythm. “You good?” he asks, almost shyly. 

“Yeah, better than good, shit…”

His left hand grips your jaw with a little force before he brings his lips to yours in a heated mess. His thrusts are working in perfect time, hitting you in just the right spot to tighten the knot deep inside you already. 

“You feel so perfect baby…god, never thought I’d have you like this…” his lips are hot against your skin as he speaks, his teeth nipping at your sensitive spots every few seconds. 

“Leave a mark, baby… gimmie a reminder…” you breathe into his ear, making the light nips on your chest switch into slightly painful lovebites that you’re positive you’ll be able to see turn into bright red marks tomorrow. He growls into your skin as his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm beneath him.

Though the room is flickering with a tangerine glow, the multicolored vibrance of the light flashing behind your eyes brings a whole new depth to what you’re experiencing, an overwhelming feeling of unwarranted pleasure that is undoubtedly ripping you apart at the seams. He’s all you’ve ever wanted, better than anything you’ve ever felt, and he’s been living under the same roof as your best friend for way too long.

You can tell he’s getting closer by the tumbling of his thrusts, but you swear you never want it to end. The euphoria taking over your mind is making you dizzy. 

Suddenly he slows down a little bit, rolling himself to the bed but keeping himself inside as he plucks you to straddle his lap. Your hands find his pecs as you begin swirling your hips, feeling him at a completely different angle, now. His curls are laid out behind him on the white blankets, and his chest is gleaming from the oils. 

You begin bouncing on him, his hands gripping into the thick muscle of your thighs as you grind on him. His head leans back, his jaw moving between hanging open and clenching tightly. “Y/N, shit…I’m not gonna be…”

You can feel the twist in your stomach, the deep tightening letting you know that you are close, too. You lean down and press a slow and needing kiss to his lips, showing him all the emotion that’s currently coursing through your body in the act. “Me too baby, just do it. Want to feel you…” you stammer through the ravaging feeling of your impending orgasm. You squeeze him hard, sending you both over the edge, tumbling down together in a flustered mess of echoed praises for one another. 

He stays buried inside you for just a few seconds as you both come down, neither of you wanting to be the first to speak when you finally catch your breath. After a minute of silence, you let yourself come out of the cloudy bliss, sliding yourself up and off of him. 

As soon as your body hits the bed beside him, he’s craning over you again, gathering you up into his arms into the most loving embrace you’d felt from him yet. 

“Every six months isn’t gonna work for me anymore, Y/N…” he admits, fully submitting himself with an honest look in his eye. “I just…”

“Me neither, Danny. It’s not enough. Won’t ever be enough,” you admit, taking his face in your hands. And it was true, after experiencing him tonight in the way that you did, there was no way you’d ever be able to wait for him again. There’s too much emotion involved that you’ve both been hiding for too long. Too much still yet to explore. 

“Stay, please? And not just for tonight,” he whispers, his thumb gliding across your cheek. 

You nod. You know there’s nothing on this earth you want more than to wake up every day next to him…the friend who has always been just a little bit more. 

“Okay,” you concede, sliding your body into his. 

“Okay? Yeah?” He asks with an excited lilt. 

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere,” you respond. “Couldn’t leave you if I wanted to...”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest and onto your cheek pressed against it feels so longingly familiar that you wonder why you ever thought it wouldn’t work out to begin with. “What took you so long?” he asks, wrapping and squeezing you hard. 

“Could ask you the same…” you laugh into his chest. 

You fall asleep with him that night a different woman than the one you were when you walked into his room, and not just because you’re a year older, now. You’d finally gotten everything you’d ever wanted. 

Danny nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sleep already lacing his voice. A soft feeling of comfort washes over you as you realize how safe and protected you feel in his arms, and how you aren’t too shy to admit that this feels more right than you could have ever anticipated.

Now you won’t have to wait six months to share your love with him again. You’ll be able to share it with him tomorrow, over coffee in the kitchen.

He presses a sweet kiss to your temple as you let the heaviness of sleep overtake you, already falling into a dazed place of complete contentment.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

.

Taglist:

@wetkleenex-gvf @britney-gvf @gretas-sweat @josh-iamyour-mama @highway-tuna @bestfriendsallstrungout @jjwasneverhere @gretavanbrie @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @myleftsock @edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @jjsooobsessed @ageofcj @starcatcher-jake @capnjaket @cozyjakey @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @stardustjake @dancingcarbon @builtbybrokenbells @gretavangroupie

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base. 

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky. 

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

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

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me. 

[brucewaynehater101]

So there's a fic that I think you will like. It's called The Definition of Valor by Nerdpoe. Really short, spoiler free summery. Instead of loosing his Spleen, Tim looses his eyes. He makes special gadgets to help him with this, such as a device in is cowl that scans the room he is in and tells him what is where via coded sounds, like say, two low A notes followed by a chirp means there is a wooden desk to the north east of him. He also makes a special computer program for his grapple so when he points it somewhere, it will adjust his aim so he never misses and always attaches to a good spot.

This fic is giving me *so many* thoughts about the potential fall out of this being found out not as soon as Tim gets back to Gothem because he never tells anyone. Specifically it's making me think about Tim who is Bruce's dad not telling Bruce because he doesn't want to worry his son. He doesn't want to worry his grandchildren/siblings either so he puts in colored contacts and wears glasses when his cowl isn't on. The glasses and an ear piece have the same tech as his cowl to tell him where everything is.

How long would it take them to find out? Tim would never tell them, so do they find out on accident because Tim forgot the contacts that are his normal eye color, or because Ras is mad at Tim and tells them what Ras did to Tim? Maybe he got to mad and while ranting at a Rouge (either Harley or Two Face would be especially funny if he's just been hanging upside down and ranting and raving fo 30 minuets already) over one of their traps, he accidentally lets slip that he's blind, or maybe he yells at Riddler, "Nygma, this isn't fair! I've been completely blind since last July and my usual tech that tells me what's around me is getting fucked by your signal jammer! So either read the riddle to me out loud or let me go!" and then later Riddler scolds one of the other Bats for letting the blind one do the visual puzzles much to their confusion.

Hi!!! I love that fic so much! Have you seen the sequel for it as well? It's short, but a great read. I would die for more of this concept.

In that fic, Bruce turns out to be a good dad. While I may hate Bruce, the way that guy handles the situation in that fic is fantastic.

However, I would like a fic where this concept gets a delayed reveal. In the AU, Tim figures out how to function without his eyes.

He engineers technology to read people's facial expression/body language to help him out. It reads words for him, etc.

I wonder what excuse he'd give for wearing the earpiece and glasses all the time. Maybe he says it's another aspect to separate Timothy Drake from Red Robin?

Just Tim gaslighting and girlbossing his way into pretending he can still see. I kind of want him to keep up the ruse for a long while.

When he does get found it, it'd be hilarious if the others forget he's blind. Tim has engineered technology to assist him, but he still can't see. So they'll try to take him to activities they did together when he could see (like star gazing) or they'll ask him what he thinks of the color of their outfit. He also ruthlessly uses his blindness as an excuse to mess with people. If Timothy Drake-Wayne is known to be blind, he'll use it to accuse Luthor of being ableist at every chance he'll get. He also bullies the shit out of governmental agents and companies that don't provide accommodations.

I'm also a fan of Riddler finding out about it, but him just changing his puzzles to be accommodating. I'm biased towards Riddler (I love him so much) so it'd be cool to see the silent show of support like that.

Another AU idea: When Tim blows up Ra's bases, the explosions cause him to become deaf or hard-of-hearing.

Dealer's choice on how much hearing he loses, but I feel like this could be great to explore deafness and misconceptions commonly held in our society.

Tim would probably already know how to sign and lip read (might even know multiple different sign languages), but he would face a few difficulties.

He chooses not to disclose his hearing loss

People often cover their mouths or face away from someone when speaking (which makes lip reading arduous)

Ableist people suck

The world is set up for hearing people, so a lot of issues stem from a lack of accommodations rather than Tim's ability to hear

Tim chose not to tell anyone about the change in hearing for a few reasons: he doesn't trust anyone (especially during his adjustment period) and he doesn't want to be underestimated (wants to prove himself in the field before they try to pull him from it).

As far as technology to help him, the comms were easier to program than other auditory inputs. Since they were designed to transmit clear voices, he merely has to train a program to automatically close caption whatever is spoken (the automatic ones used today are useful, but still make too many errors for Tim's preference. Some also only do words automatically and leave out helpful information like laughing, choking, screaming, computer dings, etc.). Each Bat member has their own designated color. For those he doesn't interact with often, it says their name before every time they speak up.

Tim incorporates the visual overlay into his goggles and glasses. He can read what people contribute to the conversation based on that. It also leaves his hands free so he doesn't need to look down. His wrist computer stores records of what has been said so Tim can go back over it if he misses it. He also has the ability to change where the words appear on his field of vision.

I also hc Alfred is the first to notice that Tim is staring intently at his lips when he talks and has difficulties with the conversation when Alfred changes the way he pronounces words or isn't facing Tim (this is before Tim's tech gets perfected). From then on, Alfred makes a point of facing Tim whenever the teen is in the room. They both don't talk about it until the rest of the family finds out (however long that takes).

Feel free to add more to either AU!

[secretinasecret]

In defence of Bridgerton Season 3:

"It feels different."

Many people HATED the second season at first because it didn't have Simon and wasn't "according to the books," but they ended up loving it by the end.

Y'all need to give this one time to marinate fully and see the rest of the season before coming to a conclusion.

It might feel odd, but that is because it has been two years since we saw these actors and these sets. We are bound to be unfamiliar with it at first.

Season three has the exact formula as the last two seasons: Colorful, bright and two leads that look great together on camera.

"It doesn't have any tension."

I assure you that splitting the season into two parts ruined the experience.

"Colin didn't suffer enough."

He did, actually. To some extent. He RAN to catch up to Penelope's carriage in the middle of the night! Not to mention his little angsty scene when he returns from a night out with his "friends," and he simply throws himself onto his bed without bothering to take off the rest of his clothes.

But I hope Colin will truly LOSE his mind when he learns that Penelope is Lady Whistledown. If he doesn't, then yeah, the writers of this show officially failed ME.

We DESERVE to see this man go absolutely batshit crazy and show that he can express emotions other than confusion, longing and boredom.

"Polin had no chemistry."

Polin had EXCELLENT chemistry; y'all just wanted to see a slow burn, enemies-to-lovers like Kathony, but I am afraid every season has a different trope, and it's okay if friends-to-lovers aren't for you.

Luke and Nicola are very good friends on and off set, and you can literally FEEL their chemistry in press interviews.

If you simply didn't feel ANYTHING at all this season, that may be because you do not feel a connection to Colin or Penelope as characters.

I do want to say, though, that these four episodes could have fleshed out Colin's character a bit more.

Book readers and Polin fans know Colin, but new viewers don't. He needed flashbacks to make the rest root for him. How did he become a people pleaser? What is his relationship like with his family? His father? What made him want to decide to travel almost every single year?

Although people finally like him after the carriage scene, they should have liked him from episode one because he is the LEAD.

"Colin gave me the ick."

To each of their own, but Colin acted EXACTLY as he was supposed to in the first two episodes.

He is a PEOPLE PLEASER, so he tries hard to fit into the mould men like Anthony and Simon made for themselves: A rake. He is supposed to make you think, "Oh, this is too much," because it IS.

Even Eloise and Violet point it out to him, and he finally lets go of that disturbing persona when he asks Penelope to marry him.

Look, the man simply wants EVERYONE to like him because he clearly has some issues that the show is failing to dive deep into, but you get the point.

"Too many sub-plots."

Y'all might be onto something with this one, tbh. But I will say that after a few watches, some sub-plots lowkey start to make sense to me, except the Mondrich one.

I have no idea why the Mondrich family are in this season; why do we need to care about their club or their newfound wealth? I will never know.

But Francesca's plotline makes sense; we needed another diamond, therefore, another Bridgerton to debut. Colin also uses Francesca to ultimately ask Violet about how to confess his feelings to Penelope: "What do you wish for Francesca?" is code for, "What do you wish for me, exactly, in the love department?"

The Featherington plotline was also really funny. We needed a comedic relief.

Benedict's plotline HAS to have some sort of importance because Lady Tilly looks like a very powerful woman. She might play a role in Lady Whisteldown's reveal or have a connection to Sophie. If she is simply there to make Benedict look like an aimless man with no goals in life (AGAIN), I will lose it.

Eloise and Cressida's friendship plotline directly affects Penelope, so that makes sense as well.

The Queen's plotline also makes sense, the woman has been trying to unmask Whisteldown for three years now.

At some point, every single plotline starts to look orderly and chronological, at least to me.

So, was part one of this season absolutely amazing?

No.

Was it enjoyable?

Depends; it might be in the 'Hall of Fame' if they can wrap up part two satisfactorily.

And I'll leave it at that.

[staplersalad]

I did it all backwards.

I listened to "Now and Then" a couple of days after it was released because I saw the channel "The Beatles" posted it- hey isn't this that old famous band? I vaguely remember back when those "guess the logo" games were all the rage, an illustration of the abbey road album cover was shown for The Beatles on a "guess the artist" version.

I was so blown away by the song, it was beautiful. I listened to it for days. I read about john's death because a lot of the comments talked about him. I'd definitely read about his death in the past because reading the wikipedia article gave me deja vu, but it must have been just another drop in the wave of content I consumed.

2 months passed, I listened to the song sometimes, discovering new scenes in the music video because I never actually sat down to watch it, I'd just play it in the background. I remember reading a comment about how John said that Ringo wasn't even the best drummer in the Beatles- what a dick! anyway who's Ringo? [john never said that btw, one of many false Beatles stories]

In February, somewhere between the 22nd and 26th- I had the brilliant idea of going to their yt channel and looking at their other songs. I came across the music video for "Only Sleeping", god what a great song! And after finding out about Em's painstaking work- what an incredible piece of art! I'd listen to the song for days, this time with my eyes glued to the music video in mesmerization.

Then it's all a blur. I first listened to all their popular songs on the channel, then the less popular ones [relatively obviously], then each album, each song, each interview, suddenly my pinterest was flooded with their pictures, I fell in love with each of them: John, Paul, George and Ringo. I was fascinated with John and Paul's dynamic. I was fascinated with the group. I suddenly sympathized with all the One Direction and BTS fans. I'd never felt this way for an artist before.

The funny thing is, the Beatles being so big meant that their music probably reached your ears before you even knew them. I remember recognizing "Blackbird" from "Boss Baby" and "Beautiful Boy" [john solo] from "Mr. Peabody and Sherman". I remember singing "and I will sing a lullaby" in the same tune as "Golden Slumbers" when I was younger.

I remember hearing "Yesterday" for the first time, my lips parted in recognition, some part of my brain recognized this as a famous song. It was like if someone played you an extremely famous classical piece, you wouldn't know know it but you'd recognize that it was famous. I was absolutely floored by Paul's work.

Then I'd re-read about john's death, this time it felt so different. I'd almost forgotten about it all really. I'd watch the get back documentary, I'd read more about events from 1970 to 1980, I'd get into their solo work, I'd fall in love with even more music, I'd read about their families. I'd learn to adore them but not put them on a pedestal because they were imperfect human beings [perfect musicians however].

Now john and george's death hit twice as hard. John's death angered me tremendously. I'd look at paul and ringo's recent interviews and pictures, finding it crazy how all this media I'd consumed at lightning speed all happened decades before I was even born. I'd learnt of 4 people, grew infatuated with them, learnt of their flaws, the fights, the breakup, the love, the friendship, the music and mourned their death- all in weeks. And I still have so much to listen, watch and read-it's brilliant really.

I remember listening to "Now and Then" much later, I'd avoided the song like the plague. I remember my eyes welling up, taking in john's voice, the lyrics, the four of them on my screen jumping ages. Just a couple of weeks changed the entire meaning and love I had for a song I just happened to stumble upon.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

You Hear That?

Week #4 Prompt: Camping | Word Count: 3850 | Rating: T | POV: Robin | Pairings: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie | Characters: Robin, Steve, Eddie, Corroded Coffin, The Party, Nancy & Jonathan | CW: Language, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking | Tags: S3, Reluctant Camping, Unexpected Crossing of Paths, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Boys, Pre-Steddie, Flirting

This is set during the S3 finale. Happening between Starcourt and the "three months later" time jump.

"Camping. Capital camp. Lowercase…ing," Steve says, trailing off at the end, his forehead wrinkling up in confusion as he clearly tries to think through the dumb thing he just said.

"Well, that kinda fell apart on you, didn't it, dingus?" Robin asks, arching her eyebrow in his direction.

"Shut up. You know what I mean. Camping! Fun!" Steve shouts, far too close to her face.

"Back off, Boogaloo. And I beg to differ. Camping is not fun. Camping is torture, and I'm not signing up to be tortured with you again. One and done, at least per summer, that's my official policy."

Steve gives her the eyes, but they aren't gonna work. She's immune to his wiles. The Harrington Charm doesn't do anything to her loins, unfortunately for him.

"No," she says, and that's that. End of discussion.

Three hours later, here she stands, right in the middle of Hunting & Camping, a store in town she never thought she'd ever have to step foot into.

"Steve, you know what lives in those woods. Do you have a death wish?"

"C'mon! There's been nothing, nada, since Starcourt. It's done. Over with. Gone. We can live our lives, go camping, anything we choose."

"Great. But we do not choose camping," Robin insists, "We aren't camping people, are we? There's no haircare in the woods, Steve. Think about that. Long and hard."

"Fine. You stay here. I'll go camping alone," Steve says, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You're not going camping alone!" she screeches, because he'll be killed for sure.

"You're right, I'm not. The kids are demanding to come along. So, it's me and Jonathan."

"Well, that sounds fun for the both of you. Who will come home with a black eye? History says-"

Steve interrupts, "Yeah, yeah. Exactly. So, you have to go. You and Nance. So the girls can come along. Joyce will allow El to go, but only if you ladies go, too."

"Chief Hopper will roll over in his grave if El goes camping with Mike Wheeler present. You and I both know that."

"Well, good thing he'll never know, I guess," Steve says, defiant. "C'mon, Buckley. Are you with me or not?" 

She's always with him, now. That's just how it's gonna be, maybe forever. Or at least until they get eaten in the woods they have no damn business traipsing into.

"Fine, I'm with you. But mark me down as a hostage." 

"Great, love to hear it," Steve says, a big smile on his face, and she reluctantly smiles back. It's contagious, even if she knows this is a terrible idea for many, many reasons.

The trek out to Skull Rock is pretty shitty, but she keeps up. Walking alongside the not so prissy Nancy Wheeler, Erica, El and Max. She should have worn better shoes. Steve should have told her to wear better shoes. Nancy is in hiking boots and Robin is not at all surprised that she's prepared for life in ways Robin will probably never be. 

Up ahead, the boys are arguing, causing a ruckus, and Steve is clearly regretting this decision. Good. He should. This was a terrible idea of, like, epic proportions. Maybe worse than working in a mall with a Russian secret lair underneath it.

"How did you even get to come?" Robin asks Erica. Because she didn't expect her to be standing there on the curb with Lucas, her My Little Pony sleeping bag under her arm.

"Tina is covering for me, duh, so I can hang out with you nerds. Don't know why I even want to though," she says, snippy, and Robin grins. She's funny.

"Maybe we should have invited Tina," Robin says.

"And risk her seeing I even know you nerds? Absolutely not," Erica says, like she's totally disgusted, and Robin laughs. 

"Okay, hot shot," she answers, watching as Nancy stops behind Steve and the boys, as they scout out a spot that might work.

"Here?" Jonathan asks, and Steve nods, agreeing.

Steve is finishing putting up the tents, all of them, because nobody is helping him, not even Nancy. He kind of had this coming, it was all his terrible idea.

"You hear that?" Steve asks, head turned towards the sky, like he's a damn dog. 

"Hear what?" Robin asks. She doesn't hear anything. "Is it a monster? A bear? It better not be a bear, I swear-"

"It's not a bear. It's a guitar," Steve says, driving the last of the tent poles into the ground.

"A guitar? In the woods?" Who the hell would be playing a guitar in the woods. Probably some sort of demented fairy, destined to murder them all, given the opportunity. 

"I hear what I hear, Buckley. I'm gonna investigate," Steve says.

"Well, it was good knowing you, Harrington," Robin answers, because everybody knows you don't go blundering into the woods, especially if it sounds like you're being lured there, for fuck's sake.

Steve would definitely be the first to die in a horror movie.

Except, she knows that's not true. He's more capable than she ever could have expected, especially for being such a big dingus.

Steve just waves her off, and starts stomping off into the underbrush. Heading towards the sound she definitely doesn't hear.

But after a little hesitation, she follows. He can't go alone. She knows what could happen if he does.

"I knew you'd come," he crows, pleased with himself.

"Shut up, dingus," she mutters, and the further they walk, the more she thinks Steve was right. There is the faint sound of a guitar.

And laughing. 

Steve pushes apart the branches of a bush, just enough for them to see through it, together. Spying. 

It feels familiar.

And there's the culprit, Eddie Munson from band, sitting around a fire with some other boys, playing his guitar. Jeff Williams, Jackie's older brother, is one of them, she's pretty sure. 

They have a case of beer, and she's pretty certain that's the faint stench of weed hanging in the air.

"It's just Eddie Munson," Steve whispers, like she isn't aware of that. 

"Yeah, I have eyes, I can see that it's Eddie and his cronies."

Steve lets the branches go, and she is sure they're gonna turn around and leave, but they aren't that lucky. Honestly, they'd have no luck at all if they didn't have bad luck.

"Hey! Who the fuck is there?" Eddie yells, the guitar playing ceasing.

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing forward, out into the open, "It's just me, Munson, cool your jets."

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Harrington?" Eddie asks, then clearly catches a glimpse of Robin, "Oh. I see."

"Ew, no, you see nothing," Robin says, feeling the urge to clear up that misunderstanding right away. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize band geek Robin Buckley was too good for King Steve Harrington."

"Way too good," she snarks, and Eddie laughs, really laughs, and Steve doesn't, but she can tell he's amused and not mad.

"If you're not out here to fuck, then what brings you two into our neck of the woods?" Eddie asks, slouching over towards them.

"Your neck of the woods? I'm the one that popularized this spot, I'll have you know," Steve snaps, bitchy, arms crossed.

Robin smiles.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, offering Steve a big, predatory smile.

"Definitely sure that's so," Steve answers, not backing down.

"That's not how I've heard it," one of the other guys shouts from near the fire they've lit, and Robin isn't sure who he is. 

"And you are? The forest authority?" Robin asks, challenging him.

"Yep. That's me," he snaps back, but doesn't offer up his name.

"That's just Gareth," Eddie says, "don't mind him."

Oh, no way. Gareth Jones? The goofy kid she had to deal with at her job at The Hawk last summer that drove her insane? His mother dropped him off nearly every afternoon, money in hand, and he always made a fucking mess with his popcorn and Reese's Pieces. He might be the number one reason she took the job at Scoops this summer, instead of going back to theater. Looking at him now, he's sure changed. Growth spurts are a bitch, she supposes. 

"Nice hair," she snarks at him, looking at his poodle-looking head. He's clearly trying to grow it out, probably to be more like Eddie, but it just isn't there yet, and his curls definitely aren't making things easy on him.

"What are you doing out here, anyway? Dirty freak orgy?" Steve asks, and Robin doesn't know how she got so lucky to have such a bitchy boy as a best friend, but she loves her good fortune. 

Eddie laughs, and she sees Steve smile at him.

"Why? You wanna join?" Eddie asks, leering, taking a lazy, sauntering step closer to Steve, assuming he'll back down. Eddie's hands are framing his belt buckle, drawing the eye, even her eye, and it's so gross but she's also very intrigued to see how this pans out. 

Eddie's not gonna scare Steve with the fear of the queer, and she was right, Steve doesn't back down, like she knew he wouldn't.

"Maybe I do," Steve says, rubbing his lips together, tongue wetting them in a gross taunting way, and Robin wants to spray him with a garden hose, but doesn't have that option, so instead she just watches as Eddie's eyes flick down to Steve's slick, glossy lips. 

Gross. Fuck her whole life. She takes back all the stuff about loving her good fortune. This is bad fortune. Like, empty fortune cookie levels of bad luck. Russians under the ice cream shop you work in, rotten luck. Honestly.

But Steve wins this round, because Eddie is the one that retreats, but he's laughing as he does it, waving his hand for them to follow. They're not gonna do that, right?

Wrong. Steve follows, so she trails behind.

"Gareth, you've met," Eddie says, "Jeff. Goodie. We didn't know we were encroaching on King Steve's territory, but we're just hanging out, camping, if that's alright with you two."

"I guess," Steve says, teasing, fucking flirting if she's not mistaken. Can't he ever turn it off? Ugh. "We're camping down there. With the kids I babysit. I heard your guitar, wanted to make sure you weren't straight out of Deliverance, or, like, ax murderers."

"Well, I am that, or haven't you heard?" Eddie asks, dimple showing up in the firelight. And Robin doesn't know how she's here right now. She should have stayed with Nancy and Jonathan and just let Steve be eaten by bears or monsters. Or Eddie Munson. Whatever.

"Heard what?" Steve asks.

"Hellfire Club!" Eddie shouts, waving his arms in an animated way, and Robin doesn't know what that is, and clearly Steve doesn't either.

"Sorry, man. Is that your band?" Steve asks, looking as confused as she feels.

"No, that's Corroded Coffin!" Gareth snaps, popping off, all pissy from the log he's sitting on.

"Sorry, my bad," Steve says.

"We play at The Hideout on Tuesdays," Gareth says, eyes narrowed.

"You play in a bar. You?" Robin asks, not believing a word of this. Not possible.

Gareth starts to answer, but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts him off.

"I'm channeling Satan. And I'm offended you don't know that, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's face is pure confusion, and Eddie laughs, taking pity on him, "It's the D&D club I run," Eddie adds, and Robin sees the light bulb pop on over Steve's head, like he's in a goddamn cartoon.

"Oh! The kids play that," Steve says.

"Do they now?" Eddie asks, not believing him, clearly.

"Unfortunately."

"And how old are these kids?" Eddie asks.

"Freshman, in the fall-" Steve says.

"Fresh blood," one of the guys says, cackling under his breath, as Steve keeps talking.

"-but I think Will is moving," Steve finishes.

"Will Byers, the zombie boy?" Eddie asks.

"Ssshh!" Steve hisses, "Don't call him that, okay?"

Eddie holds up his hands, backing off.

"Okay, okay, Harrington, don't get so worked up. I was just kidding," Eddie says, and the other boys all laugh.

"Well, it's not funny," Steve says, softly, "just. Don't. Okay?"

"Okay," Eddie concedes. 

"Thank you, he's been through a lot," Steve says, looking back over his shoulder, like the kids might all be snooping right behind them. Which, fair enough. They would totally do that, given half a chance.

"Well, since you're here, you want a beer or…?"

And Steve's nodding, like an idiot. 

Robin snags his arm, "Nancy will kill you." 

And Eddie takes a step back, hands going up, "Well, we wouldn't want the girlfriend mad." 

"She's not my girlfriend," Steve says, looking at Robin, "and Nancy can handle the kids for a bit, yeah? She's got Jonathan."

Robin is sure this is a bad idea. Nancy will be pissed about being left, and probably be pissed at Steve for having a beer or a toke, or whatever he has planned, while he's supposed to be in charge of the kids. 

"You're camping with your ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend and...Robin from band? Oh, how the mighty have fallen." 

Steve doesn't take the bait, just pushes forward and sits down on the fallen log, right next to Gareth, who squawks in protest. 

Eddie follows, and hands Steve a beer, and then offers one to Robin. She shakes her head no, one of them needs to keep their sanity, she thinks, and then she watches as Eddie lights up a joint. Great. 

They pass it around, and she's not sure what they're doing here. These guys don't like them, and they definitely don't like these guys. 

Every time Eddie came into Scoops, as soon as he was gone, Steve would say something about Eddie "The Freak" Munson. And now he's just hanging out with him, like that's a normal thing to do? 

It's not a normal thing to do. Not at all.

"So, you're babysitting tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve answers.

"Shame, I'd like to get The King all fucked up," Eddie says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands cupping his face.

"Don't call me that. High school is over. Steve is fine," Steve says, and the other boys all laugh, and Eddie throws up another hand and they all stop.

Toadies. The toadiest of the toadies.

"Steve," Eddie says, and it's positively lewd. 

"Thank you," Steve says, taking a long drag, holding it in his lungs, showing off, slowly killing himself in the process, she's sure of it. Idiot.

Robin shakes her head.

Then she feels something brushing her shin, and jumps, expecting a snake, or something worse, but it's just the boy she doesn't know, toeing at her with his shoe, offering her a can of Coke, cold and dripping with ice water from the cooler at his side.

She takes it, "Thanks. I'm Robin."

"Goodie," he says, like he isn't at all interested.

"Goodie?" she asks, and makes eye contact with Jeff Williams.

"It's a nickname," Jeff explains, like she might have thought otherwise? 

But she just nods.

"I'm in your class," Goodie says dryly, and are they? She swore they were a year younger.

"Sorry, we must not have classes together very often, if ever," she says.

"Of course we don't, you were always in all those smart classes," Goodie snaps, and she laughs. Mrs. Click's history class with Steve Harrington was not the smart class, even if she was a year ahead of where she was supposed to be. 

"Eddie, though…"

"Hey!" Eddie snaps, having heard it, somehow, despite talking to Steve at the same time. 

Robin knows Eddie is headed into his third senior year, this time with her class. The rumor mill had been running wild at the end of last year, and it seems to be true, she guesses.

"Well, third time's the charm?" she asks, because what the fuck do you say to that? Sorry you flunked high school, again.

"Here's to hoping," Eddie answers, then turns his attention back to Steve.

Nancy really is gonna kill them if they don't head back, and soon. 

"Steve, Nancy…"

"I know," Steve answers, "let me finish this beer and we're gone."

She nods, because unless she wants to stomp back through the woods all by herself, she doesn't have much choice in the matter. 

Gareth hands her a stick with a marshmallow stuck in the end, and she takes it. She could have a s'more if she has to wait. It's the least they could do, she supposes, and she pokes it into the fire, starting to toast it up.

"Have you ever had one with a Reese's cup?" Gareth asks, holding up the package, an offer.

She hasn't, but now she wants to, for sure, and takes it from his hand, nodding in thanks. 

"You used to work at the theater, right?" he asks.

"Unfortunately," she says.

"I went there a lot," he says.

"Oh, I'm well aware," Robin says, snarky.

And Goodie and Jeff both laugh, and it really wasn't that funny, she doesn't think.

"Haha, she knew you had a crush on her!" Goodie says, poking at Gareth with his roasting stick, as Gareth tries to bat it away.

"How embarrassing for you," Jeff adds, smirking, catching Robin's eye.

He did what now?

"I did not!" Gareth screeches in a way that says he probably, definitely did. 

"I'm sure he didn't," she says, though, cutting him some slack, "If he did, he surely wouldn't have made such a gross mess for me to clean up everyday he was in there, right?"

"See? I was gross," Gareth clings to the accusation, like that's an improvement. Whatever helps him sleep at night.

"Okay, Pig-Pen," Jeff says, and Gareth is flushed. Probably from the embarrassment, but if he's not stupid, he'll play it off as the heat rolling off the sure to be illegal campfire.

Goodie laughs at the taunting, and she is so distracted that she almost burns her marshmallow, but she pulls it out and blows the flame out, just leaving a nice char. Sweet. Just how she likes them.

She puts the peanut butter cup on the graham cracker, and places the warm marshmallow on top, covers it with the other cookie, and is just squeezing it all together into a gooey mess when Steve leans over her shoulder and plucks it right out of her hand, taking a bite.

"Bad dingus, no!" she snaps, but just starts the process to toast another marshmallow. It'll be much easier to do that than fight for her original one from Steve's mouth. And she knows where that mouth has been, so no thank you.

"Thanks, Rob," Steve says, and she grumbles in response, but Gareth, Jeff and Goodie all laugh. Eddie is too busy plucking away at his guitar again, and he really doesn't sound half-bad.

She makes her second s'more, they say their thank yous and goodbyes, and start walking back towards their own campsite.

"So, what was that?" she asks, looking over at Steve, but it's really too dark now to see any of his features.

"What was what?" he asks, and it sounds like he honestly doesn't know.

"Whatever that was with Eddie?"

"What was? He's Eddie "The Freak" Munson, it was nothing," he says, and it doesn't sound like he's lying. Is he unaware he was flirting? Is that even possible?

She weighs her options. She's really gonna need more data. Maybe they'll cross paths again with Eddie Munson, and she'll be able to suss it out better.

"Nothing, I guess," she answers, and he just nods like he's not the least bit curious about what she meant.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting at the edge of the campsite, and Nancy has a flashlight in hand. When she sees them approaching, she shines it right into their eyes.

"Jeez, Nance, put that thing down," Steve says, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of light, as Robin does the same over her own eyes.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Nancy asks, hands on her hips and she looks just like Steve, like that. It makes Robin smile.

"Bears. Checking for bears," Steve says.

"Well, either those bears threw shit at you in self-defense, or you have chocolate smeared all over your faces," Nancy declares, oh so dryly.

They both reach up to wipe at their faces, licking their lips.

"That's what I thought," Nancy accuses.

"Steve heard a guitar, it was Eddie Munson and his friends. They had s'mores," Robin caves, admitting to everything. Well, almost everything. 

"You ate s'mores? From Eddie Munson?" Jonathan asks, then mumbles under his breath, "Wonder what those were laced with?"

Robin stills, she doesn't want to be drugged again, no way, but then laughs. She'd opened the candy herself, and unless Eddie had the forethought to lace the marshmallows or graham crackers, it seems unlikely.

And she's pretty sure Eddie's reputation is more bark than bite, anyway.

The kids must hear them talking, because they cause a commotion coming over, Dustin getting right into Steve's face.

"Back off, Henderson," Steve says, holding him by both shoulders, pushing him away.

"I smell beer! Steve's been drinking beer while in charge of us!" Dustin screams, and the other kids just look at him like he's lost his mind.

"So?" Lucas asks.

"Can I have one?" Mike tries, and Nancy and Steve both snap no at the same time, and he turns sullen.

"I had one beer, to be nice. To be friendly. Just to make sure we won't be, you know, messed with, or any of that dumb shit," Steve argues, hands waving.

"Sure, sounds likely," Dustin says, like the sarcastic little shit that he is. 

"Well, that's what happened," Steve says, not rising to Dustin's bait, at least not yet.

"And just who did you have this beer with?" Dustin demands to know, hands on his hips. Have they all picked up this gesture from Steve? It's looking likely, at this point, and Robin worries for herself that she might be doing it without realizing. The horror.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says.

"Eddie Munson!" Dustin screeches, "He runs the Hellfire Club at the high school!"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard," Steve says, resting his hand on the top of Dustin's head, ruffling his hair through his hat, "I put in a good word for you guys."

"No way, did you really?" Dustin asks, looking up at Steve, awed.

"I did, I told him to look for you in the fall. Now leave me be, you little dickhead, and don't make me take it back," Steve answers, and Dustin rushes back towards the other boys, suddenly excited about the prospect of maybe having an in to get into Hellfire Club.

Whatever floats his boat, she supposes.

Robin looks at the tents, and the small, very contained fire Nancy and Jonathan built while they were gone. 

Looking at it now, camping might actually be fun. 

At least for one night, anyway.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🏕️

[deathbxnny]

https://youtu.be/XY1KtMXfMJ0?si=O0FoYVb-5McFKiCn

Here’s for context/power thingy

May I please request headcannons for Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Welt with an S/o who has an instant death ability like Takatou? They never direct it at their allies (the boys listed), but I can imagine no one wanting to fight someone who can insta kill anything.

I've actually never seen this anime before, so it was definitely an interesting and funny watch, lol. I also really love the ability the character has, so thank you for sharing, Anon, and I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Reader essentially insta kills a bunch of people with their mind, kinda unserious, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》WELT YANG

Welt often claimed that he had seen most of what life had to offer, mainly due to all he had been through. And for a while, he completely believed that... until he met you, that is. You weren't shy about showcasing your rather invincible ability, mainly as a safety precaution for him.

He felt concerned at first yet, but over time, he saw himself growing appreciative of it, despite how grimm it was. You got him and the rest of the crew out of many difficult situations with ease, even if it meant many casualties that he supposed he could turn a blind eye on for your sake.

He finds it understandable that you have barely enemies to speak of, too, to say the least. Whether the fools or the Stellaron hunters alike, no one bothered crossing you, and for that, he was grateful because it just meant less of a headache for him to deal with.

》YANQING

Yanqing finds your ability cool. Maybe a bit too cool for his own good. So much so that even the general eventually began to wonder if he understood the seriousness of your ability at all. Not that the boy seemed to care. Especially when he begs you to showcase it in battle. (You have to explain why it is not a good idea to use it in training, though, since he won't get it-)

With that said, he practically boasts about having you as an s/o to anyone who has ears. He finds you amazing, so much so that he'll get distracted during fights just to watch you casually blink and kill a bunch of enemies without even moving a muscle! If you weren't his lover, he'd perhaps nearly be jealous...

He also finds it a little funny that you have virtually no enemies or at least none that would attempt to fight you head on. It's not surprising, ofcourse, but that just makes his pride over you grow even more... maybe Jing Yuan was right in being slightly concerned.

》JING YUAN

He is amused by your ability, yet doesn't think much of it. It's not that he doesn't care, he just finds it rather adorable if anything, considering how powerful he himself is. And perhaps he didn't take it as seriously as he should have at first... until he actually first saw it in action, which made him also respect it more.

Jing Yuan enjoys fighting at your side, or rather let you "fight" for him, when he has too much on his plate already. He is thankful for your ability in situations like those, as it means he doesn't have to worry about grand threats sticking around for longer than they should.

The biggest thing he is grateful for regarding your ability ultimately would be that he didn't have to worry about your well-being all too much. Being the s/o of the general would usually get the normal person in extreme trouble... yet since no one is crazy enough to really cross you after your reputation spreads far and wide, that fear has been calmed, whilst the man can rest knowing you'll be fine even without him around.

I'm sorry if these were a little short!! I did my best with what I saw regarding the ability in the video. Also, I'm sorry for the long wait. Life sucks as usual, lol. Either way, thank you again for the request, and I hope you liked this!!<33

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Hello!! I just recently found your blog and I have to say I'm in LOVE- I'm a sucker for platonic yanderes and have serious X-Men brainrot, I've had the idea stuck in my head and I wanted to share!

So platonic yan Brotherhood & X-Men with Hummingbird mutant tot reader?? Flying at max speed when not held and eats exclusively fruit, constantly giggling and being mischievous- Maybe they meet the brotherhood first?? Decide toad is their favorite cause he's also got an animal mutation(& cause I love him) then meets the X-Men and thinks there funny more than anything else

Loves harmless pranks and can be bribed with sugar cubes, but is an absolute nightmare if upset, hummingbirds can fly up to 60 miles when going up and dive anywhere from 20-45 mph, imagine the damage lil reader could do flying circles around everyone!

(sending this twice cause this washing machine setting of a website likes to eat my asks)

So cute!

The Brotherhood would love toddler hummingbird mutant Reader! That's their little buzzer, okay? No one messes with then and gets away with it!

Lance is sneaking them with him to places. If they're at the park, he'll race them. If they're getting food, he tries to get them fruit juice and apple slices. If they go to a museum, he'll show then any birds they want to see in the exhibits. He doesn't mind letting them tug him along, just as long as they stay within his sight.

Toad is sneaking Reader snacks all the time. They want juice? Okay, they have apple, grape, cranberry, orange, pineapple, what's their pick? They're tired? Never fear, Todd will happily carry them around! They want to play in the rain? Haha, yes! Those two get along pretty well, especially since they're both animal mutants. Reader gets him a little frog charm, and he loves it.

Fred let's Reader and Toad perch on his shoulders when they want to see better or are tired. He cooks pie, and saves the best berry ones for Reader. Reader plays with his mother sometimes, and he in turn pets their wings. He's a gentle giant with them, and is extremely careful. He reminds the others to be careful, too.

Pietro is getting Reader to race him all the time. To the park? Beat you there! To the zoo? See you in awhile crocodile! To the X-Men to prank them? Why, just say the word, little bird, and they're there! He enables their prankster side, even going with them to keep them from getting caught. He does however try to get a child leash for them, since Reader keeps flying off to look at flowers.

Wanda let's Reader follow her around. Reader offers her some flowers they picked, and now they have her as their guardian angel. Someone once picked on Reader for their wings, and suddenly they ran off screaming- Then Wanda showed up, and took Reader to get a slushie. If Reader wants to have little cute stuffed animals, they gonwith Wanda into places that have them, but also have Gothic or punkrock stuff, too. Wanda gets Reader a little cat plush, and Reader picks out a moth plush for Wanda.

Mystique keeps an eye on Reader, and tries to adopt them. Is it thwarted? Maybe? Or maybe it works. She follows Reader and the others in different forms, even comes by as a hummingbird herself, to cheer Reader up up they're feeling down. Suddenly there's a lot of fruit and juice and sugar around the house, and while the others are suspicious, Reader is just happy to have so many sweet treats at their disposal!

Reader likely finds the X-Men funny. These are their enemies? Well, they're just freebies! Friends who are enemies! And Reader leaves flowers I weird places, ties shoelaces together, and dyes the fountain and pool water bright pink. They don't really get too out of hand with their jokes, but they will leave juice boxes as an apology sometimes. And the X-Men allow it, because Reader is sweet and cute, and haven't tried to fight them, so they're good.

Reader would have pretty, shiny feathers. Jewel tones, bright areas, soft feathers, everything beautiful about a hummingbird, they have! Their wings are fast, letting them fly backwards and up and down and all around. Reader even has small claws, but they don't do much besides help them grip branches or flowers a bit better.

[ambyandony]

heres the limbo fusions with the rest of the vento aureo main protags

Limbo + Mista

Mimbo - any pronouns

"Are u lost bbygrl? :)"

(They give a weird stare if asked for a full name. They only use Mimbo, even though it’s a combination of Limbo’s forename and Mista’s surname.)

most stable Limbo fusion merely by virtue of Mista’s simple ability to just not give a fuck.

GET YOUR GUN OUT OF YOUR CLEAVAGE!

bitch gon step on my fuckin toe bitch with them fuckin cowgirl fuckin boots

VITALLY important that you know that despite being easily mistaken as fem on first glance, Mimbo also has the deepest voice of any Limbo fusion for literally no reason other than it’s funny to me. They also have sideburns

Stand: Mighty Wings - Redirects Signals. Still a colony Stand, looks like tiny little pastel fighter jets!

Limbo + Abbacchio

Lio Adkio - they/them

“Don’t say SHIT about my mascara or my eyeliner.”

“In fact, don’t fucking look at me or I’ll have to kill you or myselves.”

stable only because when Limbo started panicking in the mindspace, Abbacchio simply pointed and snapped at her to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. and she did so immediately.

nicer than Abbacchio. not by that much, though… but weirdly apologetic about it.

the eyeliner doesn’t appear to be due to crying, it seems that it just looks like that.

bazongas?

Stand: Keeping The Faith? Never Too Late? Shawty like a melody-

“rewinds” signals to previous states or connections and/or can do a “replay” of those signals’ succeeded actions (i.e. having a phone replay a prior conversation) Unfortunately, it’s pretty useless in combat.

Limbo + Giorno

Glimbo Giovadkins - she(?)/they/them

“Wouldn’t you like to hear one of my 765 fun facts about aerodynamics, animals or Air Bud?”

“I also have a few facts about botany, blood and birds.”

stable, until they’re not. they’re incredibly calm and delightful, but when they think someone’s mad at them they panic and start excessively apologising.

genuinely the softest cutest sweetest lil bitch you’ve ever seen. also traumatised with a guilty conscience and can flip on a dime in a terrifying way.

shortest Limbo fusion for no clear reason? shorter than both Limbo and Giorno.

Squalo’s worst fear.

sounds pretty much how you would expect.

Stand: Crystal Dolphin - can transform signals into life—by taking the signals out of something, typically disabling it, they can create life like Gold Experience can. The more complex the device, the bigger its potential creation.

Limbo + Buccellati

Bimbo Luno Adkellati - they/them

"...I've lost the conversation. I'm gonna go make pizza!"

Megan Thee Stallion?!

has no idea what’s going on for some reason? always looks a little confused and loses track of conversations very quickly.

very good with kids! practically unable to have a coherent conversation with Abbacchio. They don’t seem too distressed, but they just stop making much sense and seem to confuse themselves.

Stand: When Doves Cry? Perhaps Freewill? Uhm… I don’t know? Maybe it can sort of, ‘zip’ signals together, combining two or more functions into one sent signal? Bruno's ability is just so specific... I can't think of many ideas.

Limbo + Fugo

Fimbo (Pannalimbo Adkigo) - they/them

"STOP TALKING ABOUT FREUD BEFORE I KILL YOU WITH MY FUCKING BRACELETS!!!"

( Note: all currently depicted instances of Fimbo seem to be post-PHF, as Fimbo is almost always seen with the mouth scars hidden by the tattoo.)

enemy of the state. punches fascists. lovecore punk goth. in terms of authority figures they only respect Buccellati and Limbo’s dad.

AuDHD trauma poster child. Short fuse but very friendly until something sets them off and they start screaming and or burst into fucking tears.

Self-love in the sense that the fusionmates care about each other deeply and both sides are trying to look out for the other knowing the other won't look out for themself.

Stand: Cabin Fever - Terrifying deathly virus that, rather than being airborne like Purple Haze, is passed though signal transmission. Fimbo doesn’t know if the virus is the same as Purple Haze, a different strain of it, or something entirely different. It spreads most quickly through vocal communication between two people.

Limbo + Narancia

Nimbus Ghirgins - he/they/she

"tummyache... :("

Libby why does my stomach feel like it’s going to fucking collapse in on itself and why are my knuckles torn? aren’t they supposed to bruise when you punch?

bad relationship with food. Hanahaki disease, what are you doing here? (/ij)

sometimes they find Mista sitting around, sit next to him and fall asleep on him immediately

incredibly bad with emotions and doesn’t even get angry they just get overwhelmed instantly at any presence of significant emotion

Stand: Falling in Love/Hard on the Knees - who the fuck let this kid control CO2 emissions?? They can barely control themselves???

[ganondoodle]

I just wanna say firstly that i adore your artwork and takes6on Zelda in general! Secondly, much as I wish you never had to deal with the frustrations of creating (especially when you tack on the stress of being on any kind of social platform), I'm glad you talk about your struggle. I've heard people talk about art block every day since I learned what Art was, but nobody ever mentioned "painting oneself into a corner". It's such an apt description that is so infuriatingly relatable that I had to stop eating to thank you for putting it into words. I really appreciate that you're willing to talk about your setbacks in a place like Tumblr, and still share your arts and thoughts. All the best from US of hellscape A, i hope you're doing well.

Thank you!

i used to call it artblock as well, its the most normalized term i guess; i randomly started calling it painting myself into a corner when i got stuck or frustrated on a painting bc welll, it sure feels like it, you painted the walls all around you and dont know how to get out now

it usually happens when i stop having fun and just draw what i want and instead keep subconsciously forcing myself into arbitrary rules; in my case its usually trying to be too perfect, i try to adhere to the sketch, i try to make every block of color have a perfectly clean edge, separate the drawing into way too many layers and am afraid to delete or erase anything, i tense up my whole body as frustration builds bc of impatience as this method of painting does not work for me at all and in the end lose motivation on it all and my nerves are stretched thin (i work best when i think as little as possible, just kinda loosely letting my hand do what it wants on few layers and no specific plan, after losing that its hard to get it back)

having those low moments with your art is normal as your skill grows, but even knowing so, and having gone through it countless times, it never stops making you feel like shit, and its especially frustrating when it happens when you just got enough time to work on stuff or have alot of ideas but you cant get it to work

(and funnily enough it also tends to happen after another work of mine got more attention than i thought .. even worse when it was just a sketch bc now i got the pressure on me to actually finish it and the fear of it doing worse once done looms over the whole thing- which doesnt mean i dont want people to interact with my wips, bc that also has an extremely demotivating factor to it bc it makes me think no one cares or it sucks and doesnt deserve the time i would need to spend on finishing it; also .. alot of my wips stay wips forever, which is fine, but like .. you cant always expect a finished tm version to happen)

i do find it a little funny you praise me for talking openly about it bc i am notoriously unable to shut up ever and only recently got better at NOT talking as much about it when i feel as shitty as this bc it doesnt really help anyone and gets annoying really fast xD (im also notoriously unable to not post absolutely everything bc i got no one to show it to and otherwise it will just collect dust on my harddrive so i might as well throw it out there no matter how much i might hate it, someone else might still enjoy it anyway)

and greetings back from the -not really much less of a hellscape- that is germany o/

[ravelqueen]

Hello! I'm the anon who sent the last Dom!Kim ask (about the Pale) I'm glad you like it!!! I have, like, SO many thoughts on Dom!Kim (especially specifically your Dom Kim!)

So, I hope you don't mind if I share some!

I'm actually curious about who this au of Kim would defer, besides just mentally, from canon Kim. Like in canon Kim doesn't make that many decisions himself, and pushes you/Harry to do the talking/make the decision. Even when Harry makes a bad decision, Kim doesn't step in, and really only give his insights if you ask him about it.

I'm reminded of the scene where you can choose to go into the apartment that Mr Evrart gives you, and Kim lists both the pros and cons of doing either, before stating that it's ultimately your (Harry's) decision.

This actually led me to get a sub read on Kim (I didn't get the authority check because I thought asking Kim to give me a secret would be too personal/mean). Like, I kinda envisioned Kim as someone who needed/wanted someone to lead him and make the decisions (because Dom used to do that for him, and he feels so lost without him?).

But! That's not to say I don't vibe with your Dom!Kim headcanon/au, like, I can have multiple/contradictory thoughts about a character. I just wanted to share my thoughts on how I see Kim as someone who doesn't really make decisions.

Which could be taken in a sub way, or, following your au, maybe Kim is so hyper critical of how he acts in a controlling matter that he's trying to course correct. So he keeps saying that it's ultimately Harry's decision, and letting him take the led, as a way to combat his controlling Dom thoughts.

Also, I do wonder how a play through would go down if Harry was able to pick up Kim having this internal thoughts (probably through an Empathy, Inland Empire, Esprit De Corps build), and being like "actually, I would like Kim to make all my decisions for me" (Harry would probably need to have pretty low Authority and Physical Instrument, lol)

And because he's, well, Harry, he would absolutely be like "hey Kim, you know how you want to control my actions, why don't we do that? I'm kind of a mess here, and could use the help".

Though I still bet Kim would be like Absolutely Not, purely because out of principle (even though he really wants to), and because he doesn't actually know how much Harry is aware of BDSM, the life style, or if he's just asking because he's so much of a wreck and that he trusts Kim. Though I do think it's funny if the skills try to like, help you convince Kim you can be a good sub by telling Harry if Kim is displeased by a choice (like Visual Calculus, Empathy, and maybe Conceptualization and Inland Empire could help).

Though I do wonder how this version of Kim (with a Harry who seems to make it one of his goals to get Kim to Dom him/accept him as a sub) would react to Jean.

Like, Kim in the original game didn't seem to have much of an opinion on Jean. Maybe some respect for being a fellow cop, maybe some hostility for not being there during the shot out. But in this au/verison of this au, maybe Kim gets a little pissed off at Jean for scolding Harry at the end of the game?

Because at this point, maybe Kim has begun to dom Harry a little bit (justifying to himself that he's only doing it to further move along the case), and having someone else scold Harry gets his dom brain going because only *he* is allowed to scold Harry. He's the one whose supposed to publish Harry if he messes up, who does Jean think he is? Abandoning Harry and then coming back to scold him? That's not how this works!

Anyway, I also have a drabble idea after Kim and Harry find Harry's crashed Kineema, and Harry feeling guilty about it, and asking for a punishment from Kim, and this being the moment Kim steps more into the dom role. But! This ask is already getting WAY too long! So I'll just stop now, lol. Anyway, I would love to hear more of your thoughts!

(For anyone joining us/organizational purposes: OG Dom!Kim post and the first ask)

My dear lovely anon: I adore talking about ideas that's why i throw them into the world in the faint hope I get to talk about the more so you really made my day here! <3

(also never apologize for multiple headcanons/interpretations I think that's honestly the beauty of fandom that all characters exist in this sort of schrödinger's cat/multiverse sphere where as long as it's consistent with characterization it's valid)

And yes! In my mind the constant checking in and deferrals are basically two-fold: One Kim has a very dear love of Order and Structure and Rules Governing Interaction, especially in a professional setting - in this case Harry, no matter what, is the lead on this case and therefore gets to make the decision.

Second in this sort of AU version of him where he struggles with his urges, he'd be extra conscientious about not infringing on someone's agency in a way he's not been invited to. That's what the Structure is for: an outside hierarchy imposed on him, so he's not feeling resentful of someone aside from him exercising authority.

And normally that's not a problem for him, but Harry, because of his absolute level of fuck-up (and being pretty much his type overall) is crossing all his wires and fucking up his Very Carefully Created Systems, so he's like EXTRA deliberate in letting Harry call the shots in a way he probably wouldn't normally, course-correct as you say

Therefore he would probably absolute fucking FREAK OUT if Harry would be like "the city told me, you'd like to make decisions for me", because he'd be like FUCK I'VE TRIED SO HARD TO NOT BE OBVIOUS WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME and like double-down on fully suppressing any indication of his thoughts (making them perversely worse probably).

Not necessarily because of a SSC reason/Harry's amnesia and therefore unclear relationship to the scene (bc fucked up version of Kim here, he'd probably get a weird thrill out of being able to be the only one to show him/teach him about this) and more because the loss of control implied by being able to be read so easily by someone who - let's be clear here - is dealing with a lot of stuff and therefore should not be able to pick up Kim's internal struggle.

Jeaaaann oh Jean yes what an interesting thought.

Ok so Jean and Kim even in game have an interesting dynamic imo even though it is so heavily impacted by player choice, because no matter what you've done if Kim is there he defends Harry.

But he defends Harry in this really interesting way, because (at least in Good Cop runs) it's almost a conversation at cross-purpose, because they clearly aren't even talking about the same person.

That conversation to me reads weirdly aimless and strange, because Jean is talking to Kim about Harry the way he's clearly used to talking about him to people that also know him well - as commiseration.

Very "have a load of this guy" and "the things we have to deal with". Not getting into whether that's fair or not (I already know fandom is very divided on that point lol), it is very clear that this is almost rote to him and what is also rote is the way the other side responds: with equal levels of annoyance and pain and trash-talking.

Kim breaks this script.

To Jean, Kim is also someone who spent an extended amount of time with Harry so he expects the other side of his rote conversation to happen the way it always does, but Kim - someone he clearly respects both as an officer as well as his intellect and character - keeps refusing to engage, simply because he doesn't seem to have met the same Harry and that fully throws him for a loop.

In that entire conversation he keeps backtracking, apologizing, amending his aggressiveness at the slightest push-back from Kim.

So I think (to finally come back to your question sorry) that yes Kim absolutely would be annoyed - (idt that during the course of the actual investigation he'd ever let himself indulge in much, but he's certainly started smaller behaviour when it doesn't seem to concern the case - make Harry sleep, eat, dress warmly etc., so there is that kind of possessiveness about him for sure.) even angry at Jean for just coming in and sort of staking a claim on which behaviours Harry should even be scolded for.

But i don't think he'd lash out or anything, because really this is about control - both of the situation and of Harry's responses. And just by responding naturally - by pointing out how well Harry had solved the comprehensive, complicated mystery, how he had taken care of himself, how he'd comported himself quite well, how he'd been kind and capable - he's not just taking control of the conversation, keeping Jean always on the back-foot, deprived of his trusty protocol, but also control of Harry.

Because when at first his attention was fixed on this person who he only somewhat remembers and his (justified?) anger, simply by saying the truth, Kim manages to get him to focus on him, to accept his version of reality, of himself and his character - despite the fact that realistically, Jean's version of himself is probably more correct (simply by virtue of him actually knowing him).

Harry wants to believe that this person Kim is talking about is who he really is and to have someone who he respects say these things he desperately wants to be true, they start to become reality.

And isn't that the ultimate rush for Kim, a dopamine push the likes he's never experienced - to not just have someone accept his rules and judgement and decisions, but to have them accept his reality over their own.

[fromthedeskoftheminister]

Its silent for a moment, and Impulse looks around at the very familiar faces in the circle before someone, hes not entirely sure who, says “Well.... Bye!”and the group scatters into the woods. Each and every one of them, he’s certainly no exception, wandering off to the corners of the Realm that they’ve found themselves in. Or well, allowed themselves to be pulled into, Impulse supposes as he starts to fell a birch tree. He really needs to pay more attention to the things Grian proposes to the group. He’d really only heard “Another small game” before getting distracted with the designs for his base this season and saying “Sure! Sounds like fun!“ and not registering literally any of the details, because... well, it was Grian. Which meant it was a death game. Which meant that he needed to set an Anchor, so that he didn’t have to get Tango, X, and Mumbo to summon him back to their current dimension after the game ended.

Its not the Soulbound thing. No really its not. It would be rather weird for him of all people to have issues with the Soulbound thing. Especially given that he comes from a place where being Soulbound is the norm.

All right, fine! He admits to himself as he watches the magic spread within the boundary and settle, a slight hitch in his breath as it pulls tight. It is the soulbound thing. and the fact that his life is not only his own. As it normally is. The strangeness, he supposes, comes from the fact that for the first time in a very long time, he doesnt know who his soulbound is.

[specialagentartemis]

The Odyssey stands the test of time as a story because it latches into the deep storytelling desire within us to go “and then some MORE weird random shit happened”

[mumblesplash]

pov you’re the wither and you have about 30 seconds to live

(the marks under his eye just say ‘RIP’ in sga/enchantment table language if anyone was curious)

[destinywillowleaf]

one of a kind living in a world gone plastic

baby you're so classic

@most-tragic-character-tournament

(all my thoughts in the tags)