#this got out of hand so we r using a read more tag

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm. 

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them. 

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth. 

“Country Club’s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana. 

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?” 

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him. 

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face. 

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you. 

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .” 

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.” 

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow. 

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared. 

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been. 

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?” 

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off. 

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind. 

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill. 

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping. 

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.” 

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible. 

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ. 

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it. 

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body. 

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor. 

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words. 

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack? 

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear,  standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.” 

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way. 

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes,  but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going. 

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked. 

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more. 

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered. 

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples. 

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again. 

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly. 

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying. 

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together. 

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile. 

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded. 

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it. 

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own. 

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes. 

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her. 

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic. 

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head. 

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock. 

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away. 

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle. 

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.” 

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

[lizzieisright]

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

power bottom!reader x subtop!Abby

Summary: Abby comes home agitated and asks for a different way to blow off her steam.

Tags: fingering (r and abby!receiving), oral(r!receiving), strap usage(r!receiving), tribbing, face sitting, Abby has to sit and watch as a punishment, light primal play(????), cumming untouched, Abby wears a collar, reader is a little bit of a pain slut, slight degradation (no name calling), begging.

wc: 6.3k

a/n: I was this 🤏 close to writing puppy play with werewolf alpha!abby, I swear

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Abby comes home from her usual “gym rats hangout” with twitchy fingers. You've learnt to notice those things because they signal the same thing to you: Abby is in the mood. 

“Hey Abby.” You greet her from your place on the bed where you've been reading the book Abby recommended a week ago. “How did it go?”

“Pretty normal.” She answers and you note her higher than usual tone: she is not telling you the whole story. “I'm gonna go shower.”

You hum and go back to your book, giving Abby the space she needs when she lies to you about her feelings. She will come and talk eventually, so you're not anxious - Abby has a very complicated relationship with being emotionally vulnerable and you follow her pace in these moments, letting her come to you. 

Abby takes a shower and comes back in her usual joggers and a muscle tee - you ogle her as a dutiful girlfriend should and she smirks at you. 

“Nice to know I don't spend my time in the gym for nothing.” Abby chuckles and you nod, eyes following her movements until she finally collapses on top of you, putting her head on your tits. 

Abby doesn't speak but starts to draw circles on your waist and you sigh from contentment: it's nice. Abby's hands always feel nice, and you tune yourself to her mood and relax, giving her the reins: restless Abby likes being in control, likes being busy and likes to take her mood out on you. 

“Hey um- Can we try something?” This is not dom Abby's voice. Dom Abby is quiet and cold, concentrated, scary even. This Abby is soft and warm, which confuses you for a second as you come back out of your lazy bliss. 

“What's up?”

“I got so pissed at these assholes today and I really want to not think about it.” She admits and you hum again, listening to her. “But I don't want to be in charge.”

You take a second to give Abby's words more precise form in your head. She is not in her usual subby mood, her hands are still gripping you tight, so she is not talking about subbing right now, but she doesn't want to have control...

“So you want me to dom you? But you want to top the whole time?” You finally say.

“Yes.” Abby looks at you with hopeful eyes. “Can we do this?”

You take a moment to think about it. You don't let Abby touch you when you dom her because she is usually in a subspace to escape her daily responsibilities and you decided long ago to spoil her, give her space to do nothing but be pretty. So right now your brain is trying to figure out how to get Abby into subspace by making her work. Ideas pop up in your head fast, and you smile at her. 

“Come here.” 

Abby climbs up and you weave your fingers through her unbraided hair, massaging her scalp before guiding her into the kiss. 

It feels different, having Abby press you into the bed and still maintaining your control over her, but there's really no dominant bone in her body right now. Yes, her sculpted arms are caging your face on the sides, but her mouth is so fucking soft you can help but smile into the kiss. 

“You want to fuck me, princess?” You whisper into her lips and Abby nods a few times. “Use your words.”

“Please let me fuck you.” Weak, weak little baby, you think as you caress her pink cheeks while she looks at you with big eyes. “Let me, please-”

“Bring me your collar.”

Abby's eyes glaze over for a second and she rushes to get the collar and give it to you so you can put it around her neck. You fasten it quite loosely, since you got into a habit of tugging on her collar and you don't want to hurt her.

“That's my good girl.” You tell her and Abby tries to kiss you, but you stop her roughly. “Who told you you can do that?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am.” She says, but you hear her impatience, her eagerness. “Can I kiss you, ma'am? Can I?” Abby's hands are twitching by your sides as she restrains herself from touching you.

“Oh baby.” You chuckle, amused. “Not yet.” 

“Fuck.” Abby whispers to herself, desperate. “Sorry- I'll be good, I'll wait.”

This is interesting. You are so used to Abby giving you all the control, asking you to do something instead of asking if she could do something that it throws you off balance a little. But you take your time and take a breath, then tug on her collar and kiss her. 

Well, you tease her: you make Abby chase your mouth, stopping her from crossing the distance when she almost touches your lips, and you can see a small frown forming. Oh, Abby is not happy with your game. 

“Ma'am-” Abby growls and you smirk. 

“Watch your tone or go sit and watch me touch myself.” The steel in your voice quickly puts an end to Abby's antics. 

“Please, ma'am, let me touch you. I've missed you today.” 

Abby's hands hover over your thighs and you take pity on her: you guide her hands to your hips and let her squeeze them. 

Feeling Abby's hands on your body reminds you of a second reason why you don't let her touch you when you dom her: she just feels so good. Her strong fingers digging into your flesh make your thoughts go out of your head and you take another breath to collect yourself. 

“You wanna kiss me, princess?” 

“Yes, ma'am.” Abby rushes closer, a little bold, like an over excited hound who has zero discipline. She likes it, you realise. Abby likes the game, likes pushing on your buttons. She moves her face dangerously close, testing the limits, her breathing fanning your lips. You put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she listens, but watches you almost maniacally, tracking your every movement. 

“Oh princess, you’re really impatient.” You say, amused. “If you want to kiss me, you’ll have to earn it.” 

Abby nods.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll do whatever you want.” Abby whispers feverishly as she kneads your thighs. “I’ll be good.”

Seeing Abby so desperate but so determined makes you wet in your pants: it’s a new, more delicious kind of power trip. Abby wants to be active and do everything, but your one light touch stops her. One light touch against 5 '10 built like a brick woman who can do whatever she wants with you if she decides to - it makes you dizzy, to have so much power when Abby is not giving up hers. 

“Use this pretty mouth and make me cum, princess.” You order and Abby’s eyes go dark. She’d manhandle you usually, but right now she is looking at you, waiting for permission, even though her grip on your thighs is strong. You decide to drive her crazy even more and once again you move your face until you almost touch her lips with yours. “My good girl knows what I like, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You lick the corner of her mouth and Abby tenses, restraining herself from kissing you. You move your lips to her ear, slightly touching it, and Abby’s hold gets tighter.

“Mark me.” You kiss her under her ear. “Bruise me.” You kiss her under her chin. “Hold me down.” You murmur in a low voice right into her ear and Abby growls, really growls.

“Please, ma’am.” Abby pleads and tentatively tugs on your waistband. “I’ll make you feel so good.” 

You lift your hips up and Abby takes them off in a hurry, throwing them somewhere, not caring. You’re tempted to make her go and fold everything to tease her more, but you can’t ignore your own needs: your clit is pulsing, your skin is on fire, and you need Abby’s mouth on you. 

“Can I take your shirt off too, ma’am?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Abby’s fingers are even shaking a little as she takes your shirt off, leaving you fully naked. Her eyes are devouring you, the obsession and lust overpowering her. She doesn’t waste any time and tugs on your thighs to get you comfortable before she buries her face in your cunt, but you tug on her hair in return, moving her head away.

“What did I tell you to do?” You ask her sternly. “Don’t think just because you get to touch me you can do what you want.”

Abby kisses your thigh apologetically, grazing it with her teeth, and you pet her head. 

“That’s better.”

This is all Abby needs to latch onto your thigh and suck a bruise into your skin while you hiss and grip her hair tighter.

“Good.” You sigh, your voice breaking just a little when Abby moves to the other thigh and bites you, holds you between her teeth like a prey, sinking her canines to cause the pain she knows you like. “Yeah, good girl.”

Abby snakes her arms around your thighs and pins you to the bed - you know you won’t be able to move until she lets you, and it makes you roll your eyes from arousal. 

Abby watches you as she licks her way between your folds, opening you up - your taste weaves the moan out of her and she puts her whole mouth on you, licking and rubbing your clit as you leak on her tongue and sigh so heavy, so pretty above her. 

You look back at Abby and she looks absolutely fucking feral, her eyes trained on you like you're her prey, and you can only smirk at her tauntingly. 

“Big bad wolf, aren't you?” You mock her and grip her hair to push her further into your pussy. “I might get a leash then.” 

The grunt Abby lets out into your cunt and the hold getting tighter signals she likes the idea, and you chuckle before breaking into a moan as Abby doubles the effort and really eats you out. Her devilish tongue destroys you piece by piece, contrasting with the pain of her grip on you as she squeezes your thighs, spilling your flesh between her fingers. 

“You're doing, uh- so good, baby, fuck-” You whimper for her and Abby's brows go up in a pleading manner, as if she silently begs you to cum for her. “Add your fingers.” You order her and Abby listens right away, pushing two fingers inside you. “Fuuuuck..” 

“Can I make you cum, ma'am?” Abby asks in a low voice and you push her head back into your cunt.

“Yes-yes-yes-yes, fucking- give it to me, princess.”

There is a millisecond pause before Abby gets overpowered by her own desires, and then Abby's fingers start to curl inside you violently, almost lifting you up with the sheer force of each curl. Your moans get higher and higher until you're almost screaming on her fingers and her tongue as your orgasm builds up in geometrical progression, taking you out fully. 

You cum, gripping into Abby's hair painfully, clamping down on Abby's fingers as she continues fucking you through your orgasm, lazily rubbing your clit on her flat tongue. You feel like you just exploded, fell apart and can't find your own pieces again after what Abby just did to you. Abby sucks another hickey into your thigh and you melt into the bed, feeling high. 

“Can I get my kiss now, ma'am?” Abby asks, almost smirking at you.

“Spoiled little girl.” You murmur, but motion her to come closer. “Barely did her job and already asking for rewards.”

Abby whines quietly, her previous smug face turning into pleading one again. 

“Ma'am-” She can't argue with you, you have all the power, but Abby is desperate. “I made you cum, I was good.” She begs and you chuckle, caressing her cheek, cleaning your cum from her chin. 

“You fucked my brains out, princess.” You kiss her and Abby moans, turns into mush on top of you, opens her mouth for you, because hearing you say this almost makes her cum in her pants. 

You make out for a while, your wet hot mouth on her soft, warm one, feeling each other with your tongues. You calm down from your high, but Abby just gets more restless. She needs her energy released, she needs to burn through it, and you know exactly how she can do it. 

“Do you want to fuck me with your strap, babygirl?” You tease her, but Abby can only nod. 

“Yes, ma'am.” She gets bold again and kisses your cheek. And then she grinds against you and you can't help your surprised chuckle when you feel the hardness in her pants.

“Oh, you naughty girl. You took it to the shower, didn't you?” You can't help your smile when Abby blushes, caught, hiding in your neck.

“Ma'am, I wanna fuck you so bad.” She admits into your ear and your clit throbs. “Wanna see you cum again.” 

“You're so spoiled.” You scold her and tug her hair to make her look at you. “Straighten up.”

Abby sits up and you take her strap out of her pants, lining it up with your hole, and Abby, naive Abby, thinks she can just thrust into you, but you stop her with your other hand on her hip. Again, it's such a light touch, but it stops her immediately.

“No, you're just going to watch, greedy little girl. You're not pushing inside until I let you.” 

Abby nods and can only helplessly watch you play with yourself using her cock. You run it up and down between your folds, smearing your slick, and Abby watches it glisten in the lowlights of your bedroom. God she wants to fuck you, she wants to make you scream and leak onto the bed, she wants to hear you whimper how good she is, how good she is making you feel, but instead she watches you nudge your clit with her dick. 

You watch Abby's tortured face with a smirk, the soft silicone rubbing you just right. 

“I can cum just like this, grinding against your cock, princess.” You tell her and Abby looks at you, genuinely terrified. 

“Please, ma'am, I'll do so much better for you, I'll make you feel so much better.” She begs and you smile when her hips twitch. 

The relief Abby feels when you nudge your hole with the head of her strap is downright religious. She looks at you, waiting for permission, her fingers lightly squeezing your thighs. 

“Prove yourself, then.” 

You both moan when Abby smoothly slides inside after you coated her dick with your slick. She watches you, how you arch, how your naked body reacts to her, how your tits spill to the sides and your nipples tighten. She sees the shiver cover your skin from how good she feels inside you, and Abby can't stop herself but to go as deep as she can in your pussy. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby sighs, her voice trickled in lust, as she thrusts into you slowly, her hips hitting the underside of your ass. 

You moan and tug on her shirt so Abby would get closer, and then you push your fingers under her collar, wrapping them around it, and hold Abby down while she ruts into you, desperately grunting into your ear. 

“So good f’me, princess.” You sigh and then moan when she thrusts into you so hard it makes you move up on the bed, knocking the air out of you. “Fu-ah-ck, shit, you're barely holding on, aren't you?” You tease her with your broken voice and Abby growls into your neck. “Look how you're fucking me, baby. Fucking look.” You growl in return.

Abby listens and tries to move away to see properly, but you only let her go as far as looking between your bodies since you still hold her by the collar. 

“God, ma'am- you're so wet, fuck-” Abby sobs and fucks you hard and slow, hungrily watching her strap move in and out of you.

“You did it.” You say between your whimpers. “Like a good girl.”

Abby scrapes her teeth on your neck, desperate, but you tug her back so she continues watching fucking you while you moan and dig your nails into her shoulder. 

“Ma’am, fuck, please-” Abby pants and looks up. “Can I go faster? Please, I'll be good for you, I'll fuck you so good, please.” 

You pull her closer and kiss messily, feeling as feral as Abby looks right now, bite her bottom lip painfully and feel her hips snap into you in response.

“Go ahead, princess. Make me cum on your cock.” You pant into her mouth and Abby's eyes go dark. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She tells you in her scary fucking voice and you feel like the power shifts between you for this one second. She places both of her hands by your sides for stability, and you know this is it. You're going to be destroyed. 

The first hard thrust makes you squeak and then there is no break: Abby's pace is unrelenting, her hips are strong and she uses it to her advantage, slamming into your pussy, going so deep on each thrust it becomes hard to breathe for you. You moan and whimper into her ear, scratching her shoulder when Abby hits the spot just right, but you keep holding her by the collar to make her remember who is in charge here. 

“Fuck, unnnhhh, you're so good-” You tell her and Abby looks into your eyes like she can find a proof there, like the noises she fucks out of you is not enough. 

“Thank you, ma'am.” She pants and buries her head into your neck, licking your skin with her whole tongue, lapping at your collarbones. 

You feel animalistic, like both of you are stripped down to your instincts with all growls and grunts that leave both of your throats. Abby sucks on your skin and grabs your hip painfully, pinning you down so she can move even faster, harder, making your cunt squelch with how wet she gets you. You don't cling to her - you grip like a predator grips their prey in their claws, and the desire to hurt, the same desire Abby has in her, makes you dig your nails into her throat. Abby whimpers and gently bites your shoulder, licking her bite right away to soothe you, and she feels how your walls grip her strap, not letting her pull out easily, almost with a pop - you're close, you're so close Abby can't help but moan. 

“Ma'am, would you cum for me? Please, please cum for me-” Abby says into your neck as her hips keep drilling into you: by this point she doesn't care how tight you are, she is going to keep fucking you until you cum. 

“Fuck!” You sob, every movement of Abby's cock making you open up for her. “Fuck, baby- shit, keep going, yeah?” You feel like you are about to cry: it feels so intense, your legs start to shake in anticipation. “Holy shit-” You sob and Abby looks up at you, watching your now wet face with blown out eyes and an open mouth: you look like a god to her. “Baby-”

You squeeze your eyes shut from how much you feel as your orgasm bursts out, dragging you to the pits of hell with white hot pleasure and you can't help the scream ripping from your chest. 

Abby moans involuntarily: seeing you like this while she is in subspace, while she is serving you, is goddamn holy. She feels how her own clit pulsates and the desperation takes over her.

“Ma'am, can I cum?” Abby asks you shyly while she is fucking you through your orgasm, but you barely register her voice, so overwhelmed. 

“You better, princess.” You growl and then squeak as Abby gains her speed back.

The mess of whimpers and grunts gets louder as Abby approaches her orgasm while she is watching you cry from overstimulation, feels your fingers grip her throat, listens to the best sounds in her life and this all trips her over the edge. Abby ruts into you, chasing her orgasm, and moans into your shoulder when it finally hits her. Her hips erratically slam into you and you tug on her hair: the perfect mix of pain and pleasure makes Abby see stars.

You can't help the quiet moans that leave your throat on every exhale: you're still pulsating around Abby's strap, and Abby lies on top of you, making your sensitive skin feel her everywhere, even though she is fully clothed. 

“Holy fuck.” You chuckle, surprised. “Are you okay, babygirl?”

Abby hums in agreement. 

“Tired?” You are gentle now, smoothing Abby's hair out: you don't know her limits in this.. order of things, so you're being careful. 

“No, ma'am.” Abby presses her forehead to yours and you smirk. “Whatever you want, I'll do it.” 

“Yeah? Did it feel good to cum while you fucked me?”

“Yes, ma'am. You're so beautiful when you cum.” Abby looks into your eyes, needy, definitely waiting for something. “Can I kiss you, ma'am?”

You hum and pull Abby into the kiss and she gets bold, kissing you a little too aggressively than she is supposed to, but you let her - she deserves it. She shifts her hips and the strap presses inside you, making you gasp into her mouth. Abby gets excited and presses harder, but you stop her. 

“What do you think you're doing?” 

Abby just looks at you dumbly, caught in the act. 

“Please.” That's all Abby can manage. 

“Please what?” You hold Abby's chin between your fingers, making her look at you. 

“I want to make you cum again.”

You pretend to think, but then you let Abby go. 

“Take your clothes off.” You tell her. 

Abby nods and slowly pulls out of you: you feel your hot slick dripping down your ass and it makes you smile - you like knowing how well Abby fucked you. 

“You see this, princess?” You nod at her absolutely soaked strap. “You see how good you made me feel?” 

Abby swallows, really tempted to lick the strap clean since it has your cum on it, but you asked her a question and she has to answer.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I bet your pussy is drenched as well.” You smirk and Abby blushes while she takes her clothes off. “Come here, princess, and ride my clit.” 

Abby freezes for a second, taken aback, so, “Colour?”

“Green.” Abby says in the husky voice and gets on top of you. She slots herself between your legs and- “Oh my God-” Abby gasps when she feels your hot wet cunt on herself. “Oh my god it feels so good.”

You pant as you look over Abby: her collar is loose around her neck, her hair sticks to her back and her eyes are so wide it is almost funny, and you'd have teased her for this, but Abby starts grinding on your clit and all thoughts leave your head. 

Abby's legs and glutes are strong, meaning she moves fast and hard on top of you, bumping your clits together: she slides so smoothly since you're both soaked and you moan quietly, and the idea comes to you. 

“You're not allowed to cum until I do, do you hear me?” You tell her as sternly as possible and Abby whimpers. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You smile at her, mean - you know between the two of you Abby always cums quicker, so you just set her up for failure. And Abby knows it as well, looking at you with pleading eyes and an open mouth as her moans leave her lungs - she hopes you'll be kind to her. But you won't. 

You try to calm down your breathing and hold off your orgasm, even though Abby is moving perfectly: she is fast and her clit brushes over your clit just right. And then you feel how Abby sneakily tries to slow down. 

“Are you tired, princess?” You ask with mock concern. 

“No ma'am.”

“Then pick up the speed and make me cum.” You tell her with the steel in her voice. 

“But ma'am, I'll cum.” Abby whines. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I told you, you don't get to cum until I do. Figure it out.” 

You're being mean to her and Abby doesn't have a choice but to pick the speed again and try to not cum, even though she feels how close she is: she is already twitching when your clit touches hers just like she needs it, and it won't take long for her to fail you. 

And Abby knows you are good at punishments, so she decides to do only one thing she can:

“Ma'am, please, I can't hold it any longer, please-” You frown and slap her thigh lightly, not pleased. “Please, I'll be good, please can I cum now, I'll do anything you want, I can't- It's too much-” 

Abby is sobbing but keeps going, driving herself insane: she can't stop herself from cumming but she also can't stop moving without you punishing her and Abby feels her adrenaline going up at the thought of what you might do when she fails you. 

“Don't even think about it, princess. I said no cumming.” You growl at her and Abby is done. 

She keeps moving pathetically, riding out her orgasm and thinking you will forgive her if she just keeps going even though her clit is pulsing and her slick is dripping down on your pussy, her pace lost and erratic. You move up and grab her by her collar, letting her moan into your lips as you watch Abby ride out her high. You're pissed off and Abby gets the tingles - the fun ones when she is scared of you but she is also absolutely fucking thrilled about what is to come. 

“Oh, this is a bad, princess.” You tell her coldly. You look so calm and collected while Abby is a mess. She can feel her lower stomach quivering from the aftershocks, her hair is stuck to her body and her face is fully red. “I didn't give you permission, did I?”

“No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am.”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it.” You snarl. “You had the audacity to cum before I was satisfied.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Can I make you cum? I promise I will make you feel so good.” Abby pleads, but it's to no avail. 

“No. You fucked up, you won't get to touch me until I let you. Go sit at the edge of the bed.” 

If Abby could whine like a puppy, she would. But she listens and sits where you told her. 

“Give me your strap.” 

Abby perks up with a small hope as she passes you the harness: maybe you will let her fuck you again? Maybe, at least, she will get to lick your cum from the strap? Oh Abby would give anything to just taste you right now. 

But you take the dildo out of the harness and spread your legs, showing Abby your soaked pussy. 

“Hands behind your back and spread your thighs, don't even think about touching yourself. Bad girls only get to watch.”

Abby swallows and does as she is told and just watches as you drag the dildo between your folds, smearing it with your slick.

“You see this? Your cum is all over my cunt.” Oh fuck, Abby thinks. Oh no. She will have to- “Watch how I'm going to fuck it back in and make myself cum, since you were so busy being a brat.”

Abby whines. She can't help it - she is supposed to do it. It's her job to serve you, to please you and make you feel good, and you took it away to punish her. 

“Yeah, I bet it felt nice, not listening to me.” You murmur and moan when you push the dildo inside. Abby watches how it stretches you and her fists tighten, it is supposed to be her. “Can't wait to have your cum inside me, princess. The only good thing from this.” You scoff.

Abby bites her lip to cope with what she is seeing; you pull out and rub the strap on your pussy to collect the slick on her strap just to push back in. Her cum is in you. This thought makes Abby dizzy and desperate: she really considers not listening to this order as well and just- just touch you and taste you. 

“Your cock feels so good.” You taunt her and Abby whimpers. 

“Ma'am, please! Let me do it, I'll make you cum, please-”

“Quiet.” You bark at her and Abby listens. “You don't get to ask for anything. Be grateful you get to watch.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Abby says in a small voice and quiets down. 

You relax and continue playing with yourself as if Abby is not even here - you're concentrated on your own needs right now, fucking yourself with the dildo, feeling how it rubs all over your walls, and it's not enough now. So you lick two of your fingers and put them on your clit, rubbing and flicking it the way you like, moaning when you feel yourself tighten around the strap. 

Abby is going to cry, she thinks: everything you're doing now is torturing her. She needs to be the one who fucks you and plays with your clit, it's her job. There are red crescents on her palms from how hard she is digging her nails into her flesh, and she is leaking on the bed, because you're so fucking hot. Abby can't take her eyes off you, off your perfect pussy with her cock inside, off your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“You're beautiful, ma'am.” Abby blurts out, not controlling herself.

“Yeah?” You smirk. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

You like it when Abby compliments you, but she is being punished, so you don't give her a chance to redeem herself. You start rubbing your clit faster, feeling your orgasm approaching, and Abby whimpers again: she can see it as well. She wants to beg you again, she needs to make you cum, but Abby also needs to be good, so she stays quiet and doesn't look away. Your thighs start twitching and your moans get louder now, and Abby can't sit still anymore; she almost bounces on the bed, trying to cope with the fact that you're going to cum without her. 

“Fuck, it feels so good.” You taunt her again, knowing how much it upsets her. “Oh, I'm going to cum-” You whimper when you feel the first wave of orgasm washing over you before the whole tsunami of pleasure. 

Abby is panting, her mind is empty, and she watches you again like a predator, feral eyes trained on your face: you look so good when you cum. 

Tsunami hits you and you moan deeply, frozen in place as your cunt pulsates around Abby's strap. Abby doesn't even breathe, waiting for you to come down from your high. She tries her best to be good and patient for you, and you notice it. Abby is damn near tears, but she is still sitting like you told her to, and she is being quiet as well, waiting for you. You feel like this is enough for her and motion her to come to you when your high subsides. 

Abby is super fast as she climbs on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs again. 

“Hi, baby.” You tell her in a sweet voice and Abby buries her nose in your neck, squeezing you in her arms. “You did so well, sat through your punishment like a champ.” 

“Thank you, ma'am.” 

“Do you want to stop?”

Abby looks borderline hurt at your suggestion, and you laugh kindly.

“I’ll take it as a no.” You caress her cheek gently. “Well, since you’ve been so good, I suppose you can choose how you want to fuck me, princess.”

Abby moans at your words - she is so greedy she can’t pick an option right away, she can’t believe her luck! 

“Sit on my face.” Abby says in a low voice that faintly reminds you of her dominant side, but she quickly remembers her place. “Please.”

“Lie down.”

Abby listens and watches impatiently how you get up and swing your thigh over her chest, your soaked pussy so close to her face she feels how her own cunt pushes more slick onto the sheets. 

“Hold me down and leave bruises.” You gasp when Abby immediately wraps her strong arms around your thighs and pulls you down, making you sit on her face. “Good girl.”

Abby moans into your pussy and opens her mouth wide, as if she is really trying to eat you, and you relax in her grip - the pain from her fingers digging into your hips is mixed with the pleasure from her soft flat tongue and you feel amazing. And Abby is so eager, she eats you out feverishly, watching your every movement. Abby needs to make you cum, to hear you choke on your own moans, but right now you only make these quiet breathy moans - so she sucks on your clit and you twitch, overstimulated. Abby grins into your pussy and you frown.

“Oh, you wanna play games, princess?”

And then it’s Abby’s turn to twitch because you push two fingers into her and curl them. 

“Don’t you dare to cum before me again.” You growl at her and Abby mewls pathetically, tugging you even harder, pinching your thighs when you curl your fingers and hit her sweet spot. You whimper, getting high on pain-pleasure equilibrium, and all hell breaks loose. 

Both of you can’t stop your moans, and everything becomes a chain reaction where you fuck your fingers into Abby and Abby drags her tongue over your clit, sucking and rubbing it while her hands try to break your bones with the force she is holding you down. Your thighs are suffocating her, but she is in heaven: you’re all around her, all she smells, tastes, feels and hears - it’s only you. This is how it is supposed to be: Abby under you, serving you, making you feel good like no one, not even you, can.

“Fuck, baby, just like that-” You choke on your moan and Abby moves her hands to your hip junctions, keeping you in one place as her tongue fucks you like you need her to. “Yes, princess.” You hiss and buck your hips into her mouth, but the iron grip she has on you doesn’t let you. 

You keep curling your fingers inside her and Abby closes her thighs around your hand, trying her best to concentrate on you and not cum before you do, but your pace doesn’t falter even when your voice breaks and your hips twitch. Abby concentrates on your puffy, warm cunt and listens to your moans - but it seems to only work against her, spiking her arousal even more, bringing her closer to the inevitable. 

“You are tightening on me.” You smirk and thumb at her clit, making Abby’s hips jump. “You’re gonna cum when I cum.” You manage to tell her and then there are only moans and whimpers as Abby sucks your clit. 

And then she gently grazes her teeth over it and your climax hits you suddenly; Abby eases her grip on you, letting you ride her tongue while you moan and whine for her. You feel how her cunt sucks your fingers in and Abby is such a mess now, cumming on your fingers while you use her face to prolong your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” You whimper and sit on her chest, looking at Abby’s red wet face as she keeps moaning. “Came with me like I told you to, good fucking girl.”

You take your fingers out and Abby makes eye contact with you when you suck your fingers clean. 

“Oh god-” Abby sighs pathetically. “Fuck, ma’am.”

You chuckle, still riding your high, but you find your strength to move and lie next to Abby, petting her head gently with your shaking hand.

“You want to cuddle, princess?”

“I wanna hold you.” You are surprised, but you go back on top of her and Abby wraps her arms around you, caressing your back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, princess.” You gently kiss her shoulder and then her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. High.” Abby chuckles. “Thank you. It was amazing.”

“You did amazing, baby. I’m proud of you.” You kiss Abby gently, feeling her whole mouth, trying to show her all the love you have for her.

“You got so pissed at me.” Abby grins and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"Was it too much?"

"I think if you want to punish me again like this, you'll have to tie me down. I almost broke, wanted to fuck you so bad." Abby murmurs and you kiss the marks on her throat. "Does anything hurt?"

You're surprised once again - usually you ask this question, but given the circumstances...

"Deliciously." You murmur into Abby's lips and kiss her again.

"We need to get a leash." Abby says suddenly and you snort.

"Yeah, we do."

[jazzyoranges]

hey. i really like the fic about shapeshitfing!reader x wednesday. i was wondering if u could do thing and reader being absolute besties and playful with each other which makes wednesday annoyed and sorta jealous.

Best friends

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.4k

A/n: lowk shapeshifter!r is so fun to write, thanks for all the requests about her :) hopefully you like reading about her a lot because honestly i’m a little obsessed with this universe

Warnings(?): wednesday being wednesday, ooc wednesday, mentions of knives and blood

“Why are you adamant on annoying me.” Wednesday opens her door to you, whose rapidly knocking stops when the look on Wednesday’s face doesn’t give much room for explanation. But you love being defiant so you don’t really care

“Thing and I planned to go on a date today!”

The Addams looks behind her to see the appendage with the tiniest little crocheted messenger bag that was worn on his wrist like a bracelet. You can see Wednesday’s forehead wrinkle when Thing saunters over to your feet for you to put him on your shoulder, just as you’ve seen Wednesday do countless times before

“I asked Thing if he had any rings to wear and he said no, so naturally I’m going to treat him on a day out” The appendage taps excitedly on your shoulder, poking at your face to signal he wants to go

“And when did you plan this?”

“After we played tag, you wanna come with us?” You ask with a turn of your head

“Shopping isn’t my strongest suit. I’d only slow you two down.”

“We’ll be off doing hot girl things. I promise I’ll have him home before curfew, Miss Addams” You treat Wednesday like she’s a disapproving mother, when in reality she looks unfazed and honestly a little annoyed. You and Thing wave goodbye, leaving Wednesday with her own thoughts as her roommate is doing god knows what with her friends

Time alone could be good for Wednesday. She’s been around people far more than she preferred. With maybe an hour on her hands before someone interrupts her, Wednesday sits at her desk to write

Her fingers drum against her desk, a habit she picked up from Thing. The appendage you were taking out on a date. For gods sake, he was a hand! You asked a singular appendage out on a date. Not even a full human. A fucking hand. A hand that didn’t have a voice, yet you were still infatuated with him nonetheless

And maybe Wednesday is smart enough to recognize she’s feeling a little peeved over a hand. Maybe Wednesday is smart enough to know Thing does have a voice; a sassy one at that. Maybe Wednesday is coping with the fact you wanted to take Thing out more than someone you actively sought out and saw every day

And maybe you’re the reason why Wednesday had to buy a slightly bigger trash can for the more recent mistakes she’s been making during her writing time

You were a disease. You forced your way into everyone’s life, but somehow you always came out with more friends and acquaintances than you started with. It was annoying how unforgivably social you were.

Your dumb smile with your pearly white teeth. Wednesday’s tapping on her desk got a little faster

Your need to include everyone whether you knew them or not. It was why you were on a date with Thing in the first place

Your everlasting hunger to be around someone. Wednesday knew you didn’t like to be alone

Your voice that Wednesday knew so well.

…

Fuck.

“Hey, Wens!” Enid makes her presence known with a sing-song tone while placing her jacket on the coat hanger near the door

“Where’s Thing? It’s quiet in here” The blonde immediately notices

“He’s on a date,” There’s a small pause after Wednesday talks “with (Y/n).”

“(Y/n) took Thing on a date?”

“Correct.”

“How’s your writing going?” Enid peers over Wednesday’s shoulder to look at her once again, full trash can. Enid notices that happens a lot when you’re on Wednesday’s mind for some reason. The Addams glares at Enid when she makes another mistake, crumbling up the piece of paper while maintaining eye contact with her roommate

“Great.”

A beat of silence.

“…did you seriously get cucked by a hand?”

“Repeat such degenerate nonsense and I’ll be forced to make sure you never will.”

“I dunno, you’re looking a little jealous over there” Wednesday doesn’t have to turn around to hear the wolfish grin in Enid’s voice

“The urge to push a knife through your skull is an insatiable hunger that cannot be fed by anything that isn’t your blood.”

//-//

“Do you like this one? See look, the dragon is the ring!” You place the ring on Thing’s middle finger. The appendage shows his approval with another few taps

“Yes, it makes you look tough. You want another one?” He nods. Well, at least makes it look like he’s nodding. You grab a silver ring from the display, putting it on his thumb

“Will Enid like the rings?” Thing signs

“Everyone will love them, especially Enid. You running out on lotion?”

“Nope! How can I repay you?”

You pretend to think for a second

“If you delete Enid’s blackmail on me off of all her devices I’ll take you out again, free of charge” The employee at the front is probably wondering why your back is turned to her while you’re whispering into your hands

Thing holds a thumbs-up and you take the two rings off his fingers and put them on the check out counter along with a few other little trinkets you liked and stuff for your friends

A pink and white bracelet with charms you knew Enid would find cute, scale earrings that twinkled in the sun that Bianca would look stunning in, a bee pin that was too perfect for Eugene, and a black snake that curled into itself as ring for Wednesday

You only assumed Thing gave you a blank stare when the cashier said your price was a bit more than a hundred fifty dollars. Your mom would definitely chastise you for your spending issues, but that was a problem for another day. Your current problem was that you had to get Thing home by curfew like you promised

//-//

Thing might not want to take up your invitation on another date anytime soon.

Currently you’re turned into a bird with the appendage hanging on for dear life on your back as you carry the bag of items you bought in your beak. Thing pleaded you just run on the ground like any normal animal, but you promised you’d get him home by curfew. Running would’ve taken too long and your ass would get tired

So instead, you went for the skies without Thing’s approval

He might hate you now, honestly. In your defense, it was too late when he told you he had a fear of falling when you were above tree height

You asked if he wanted to sit in the bill of a pelican instead and you felt him pluck one of your feathers. Lucky for you both, Wednesday and Enid’s room wasn’t too far away

When you land on the balcony of their dorm, Thing hops off your back and apologizes for your now lost feather. You also apologize for not planning correctly and having him on your back with little to no safety

Enid looks a little confused when Thing starts to hug the bird that landed on her balcony, but she eventually figures out it’s you. The blonde looks away for a second and you’re already a cat desperately knocking against their circle window to be let in

You walk in like you own the place, and Wednesday checks the clock if you actually got Thing home by curfew

“With minutes left to spare, too.” Wednesday says. You smile proudly

You jump up onto Enid’s bed, bag still in mouth. You push it over so it’s parallel to the bed, digging your head in until you find what you need. The pink and white bracelet with charms you got from Jericho. Enid makes sure to ruffle your fur so much it starts to stick out until she pats it down. Thing makes sure to tell Enid all about his day

Grabbing your bag, you make your way towards Wednesday, who’s reading a book with a dark cover on her bed

You look through the bag again, but this time with the aforementioned snake ring in your mouth. You keep your tongue away from the ring as much as possible to stop you from getting your saliva on it

Of course you thought about your friends while on a date.

Wednesday reaches out her hand, taking the ring from your mouth. She places it on her left ring finger and it seems to be a snug fit. There’s a wordless thank you in Wednesday’s eyes when she uses the same hand to scratch under your chin, making you purr

The happy expression on your face and the way you lean into her touch makes Wednesday’s heart melt the tiniest bit.

You crawl into Wednesday’s lap as she reads her book. Every now and again you can feel the now cold ring against your skin, sending shivers down your spine

You end up spending the night with Wednesday’s lips against the back of your ear and her hand on your stomach. It wasn’t your fault you were a cuddly cat.

[lexirosewrites]

Vague role reversal for slick sunday wherein Eddie is a popular top of the food chain alpha, while steve is on the peripheral as an omega

O!Steve might have rich parents tht aren't around, but he's struggled to read at the same pace as his peers for years, numbers sometimes get mixed up, he's seen as strange for his interests, & ppl tend to overlook him in a room which is what he's convinced himself he prefers. He might read slowly but he retains nearly everything he reads, he's very good in history class, he's got an emotional intelligence unmatched. In this AU Steve is the founder of Hellfire, he doesn't DM entire campaigns only one shots or short little jaunts but he owns every book & has a lot of knowledge abt the rules. Steve has taken German every year at Hawkins high & that's how he meets & forms a bond w A!Robin. She joins Hellfire only to sit around & eat snacks & heckle the DM on the behalf of the players. While he's socially vulnerable he's often left alone from physical bullying bc his parents had him attend first a karate class then an aikido class since he was 12 in Indianapolis so he defends himself well.

A!Eddie on the other hand presents as an alpha early, he starts developing the physical strength associated w an alpha, he's a faster runner than before, he joins the track & field team, he becomes the plug for weed & pills once he's a sophomore in highschool, he laughs loud & doesnt necessarily stop the worst of the bullying but is still a gentleman to alpha & beta women & all the omegas, even Steve when he rarely notices him. He dates A!Nancy Wheeler, invites her to a small bonfire in the woods near the trailer park, B!Barb comes along, Barb goes missing (is killed) after everyone breaks off in couples to make out/have sex, season 1 happens pretty much the same for Nancy except Steve's role/redemption is Eddie

Will Byers goes missing & Steve approaches fellow bottom feeder B!Jonathan Byers w condolences & the statistic tht when a child goes missing its more likely to b a family member, when Jonathan goes to confront his dad Steve & Robin tag along. When tht leads nowhere Steve & Robin r told by Jonathan to not get further involved. Wills fake body is found. Then season 1 happens pretty much the same with Steve & Robin only having a peripheral involvement.

Season 2 happens, Billy tries a few times to corner Steve but Hellfire r protective especially Robin, & Steve uses aikido to throw Billy around by using his mass & inertia against him ending the confrontation by giving Billy a broken nose, Billy ends up giving up bc he gets more concerned w dragging 2nd year senior Eddie down & harassing the vulnerable black kid Max has been seen with, season 2 ends w Steve having to repeat senior year and Eddie has to repeat for the 3rd time despite Nancy's attempts to help.

Season 3: Steve doesn't get entirely cut off but his allowance is reduced by A LOT, steve & robin get summer jobs at Scoops Ahoy. Dustin goes to Eddie with the transmission but neither speaks Russian. When their caught talking abt it not so subtly while indulging in ice cream at Scoops Ahoy near closing Robin straight up calls all 3 of them out while stobin lean against the counter judging them. Dustin is a smart ass but when Robin reveals she's a polyglot the 3 start to include her, ignoring Steve & Steve convinces himself he isn't hurt. Then Steve hears music in the transmission & as they're all walking out he has the eureka moment of the ride. Season 3 happens & stobin still end up as the ones trapped by the Russians except Robin does her best to divert their attention to her in this AU, they get drugged & rescued by Dustin Erica & Eddie

Billy dies. Max has very mixed feelings abt it while Steve is relieved bc Billy had continued to harass him all summer

Idk how season 4 goes but I do know we get steddie & buckingham even if Vecna isn't defeated

idk why omega Steve being at the bottom of the food chain is so appealing to me, but it is and then the idea of alpha Eddie eventually pursuing him is so much more fun!

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (9)

In which Aubrey gets interviewed...

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

ellemagazine posted

ellemagazine Our June edition features Aubrey Yang on her directing debut, the trajectory of her career and new friends in Formula One. Full article linked in bio.

tagged: aubreyyang

liked by formula1, olliebearman, mckennagraceful and 80,944 others

view all comments

user1 ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BARK BARK SHES SO FINE

aubreyyang thank you for having me Elle! always a blast 💋

-- aubberieloverss MOTHERRR

dior.n.goodjohn ILY UR SO BEAUTIFUL AND ETHERAL

-- aubreyyang stawpp ur making me blush

formula1 thank you for the shout out! hope to see you in the Ferrari paddocks soon 🏎️

liked by aubreyyang

-- f1wagsupdates BAHAHA f1 admin ur brave for that one

lilymhe prettiest girl

-- aubreyyang me and dior miss u tons! can't wait to see u soon

mvertsppdudu can ollie fight ill catch him in the paddocks

ELLE MAGAZINE

NEW ISSUE

INTERVIEW WITH AUBREY YANG

Aubrey Yang, the multi-faceted actress debuts her talent and grit for directing and screenwriting in her short film Pelt, winning the Best Screenplay and a notable nominee for the Best Film during London Film week. Since we've last seen her at Elle New York, she has turned 18, nearing 19 now, and made some drastic changes to her life.

Since her film, Yang has not been in any other production as talent, but teases us with a new project "that's coming soon, don't worry". She adores her new found love for being a creative, and is scouting to get her hands on more projects in Hollywood on that side of the camera.

Her studies continue at New York University and she is set to graduate early, next year. When asked about her ability to balance school and work, she smiles knowingly and tells us that "it's important to take breaks, but more importantly, I've chosen things I love to do".

During these breaks, Yang is often seen with fellow young actress Dior Goodjohn and international pop sensation Olivia Rodrigo. But 18 has brought a new hobby: Formula One.

"I met Lily [Muni He] and Alex [Albon] at a gala, and we hit it off. They're like my parents" she answers adoringly. She has been seen multiple times in both the Williams and Ferrari garages visiting with fans and learning about the mechanics of racing.

"I've met some wonderful people; I never really got to be a regular teenager because I was working and going to university early. They've really helped teach me about having fun and letting loose."

Next year when we inevitably feature her lovely face again, we'll see the new changes to her life.

MESSAGES

ollie

I read ur article it was great

sad I didn't get a shout out tho :(

aubrey

sorry boo

PROMISE TO GIVE YOU ONE NEXT YEARR

ollie

okay :)

anyways r we still on for the trip?

aubrey

yes mr. bearman

ollie

I was thinking Charles and Alex might want to go w us

aubrey

YESSS MY FAV MONAGESQUES

ollie

gotta go but talk later? ☺️

aubrey

kk cya bearman

ollie

bye yang :)

MESSAGES

alex 🖼️

cou cou chérie!

(hey dear)

aubrey 🎬

AHH ALEX J'avais l'intention de t'envoyer un texto ! On part en voyage en Europe ?

(I was meaning to text you, are we on for the Europe trip?)

alex 🖼️

yes but I have smth to ask

aubrey 🎬

um not the English what's wrong

alex 🖼️

DO U LIKE OLLIE

aubrey 🎬

UM BYE WHY

alex 🖼️

bc I have to watch him text u and its dégoûtant

(disgusting)

aubrey 🎬

bro idk

dior thinks we like each other

its just hes becoming such a good friend

he makes me smile

and hes so sweet and kind and gentle

hes not like any other guy ik

alex 🖼️

its going to be such a long trip 😔

aubreyyang posted on their story

olliebearman replied to your story

cute 😊

aubreyyang

ikr shes my cousins baby

olliebearman

oh

very cute

wanna play 9 ball on message

aubreyyang

YOURE ON

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 I think im ready to be a father

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, leosdad and 10 others

leosdad fatherhood is hard

-- landoakabob u have a dog

-- leosdad u take that back hes my son

pastryboy SIR U ARE 21 WDYM CHILDREN

-- bearyfast_04 but look at her 🥰

-- arthuranddw another fallen soldier

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[autisticgayplushie]

all nine of the stretch goal designs for this campaign - I am not sure how many goals we will be able to reach but there will come a point where I won't be able to do any more goals unless I get fulfillment help, so we'll see if it gets to that point and if I can get help! below the cut are the names, info, and artist statements for each plushie! I may end up changing the names as I am still not sure about ash, sandy, kelly, and luca, but let me know if you like them!

Tristan The Depression Raccoon: Tristan’s plushie will come with a removable hoodie accessory! He loves cozy video games like animal crossing and stardew valley. There are not many widely used symbols for depression that I could find, so I chose Tristan's colors based on how my depression makes me feel, bruised and cold.

Ash the Anxiety Bunny Moth: Ash’s plushie will have fluffy moth antennae and removable magnetic wings similar to Bug’s plush! They love to visit the home depot lights section when their friends are with them! I chose gray and yellow for the main body colors because my anxiety personally deals with uncertainty and things out of my control. The green comes from one of the anxiety flags created by Beyond MOGAI. To add moth features was a suggestion I got that I thought fit very well!! 

Sandy the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Kitty: Sandy is an artist and loves to draw and paint landscapes! Her wings will be attached via magnet, similar to Bug’s wings. The colors of her design are based on the OCD flag created by lucellion, with spirals in her paws to represent repetitive thought processes.

Melon the Sensory Processing Disorder Opossum: Melon is a silly opossum who has bat wings! Melon’s wings will be attached via magnet, similar to Bug’s wings. Melon’s colors are inspired by the SPD pride flag created by Beyond MOGAI.

Jazz the Borderline Personality Disorder Kitty: Jazz is a tortoiseshell kitty that loves to read!! Jazz’s plush will come with a pvc charm of the hand of Eris symbol for you to put on xer collar if you choose! The colors are loosely based on the BPD flag created with community input by ptsdsafe on tumblr.

Kelly the Schizospec Axolotl: kelly is an axolotl who is studying chemistry and loves science! kelly’s design is inspired by the Schizospec flag, created with community input and organized by schizosupport on tumblr. They will have a collar tag once again made of PVC featuring the associated double sided arrow symbol.

Em the Bipolar Disorder Chimera: Em is a chimera kitty who has dragon wings and a snake tail! One side of the snake tail is smiling, the other frowning. This takes inspiration from the :): symbol often associated with Bipolar disorder.

Cy the Irritable Bowel Syndrome Otter: Cy is a happy little otter griffin! They love to sculpt and craft and sew! Cy’s color pallet is based on the assortment of medications I take for my own IBS symptoms.

Luca the Dyslexia Fox: Luca is a dancer and loves to perform! Their design and colors are loosely based on the infinity heart+ moon and star symbol that is often found on dyslexia flags. they will have L and R embroidered on their paws, which was a suggestion I was given.

[knightyoomyoui]

[SMUT] TWICE Dahyun x Male Reader - "Conquered By An Abomination"

Here's my final one-shot for this year which is another smut fic featuring Dahyun. I want to say that I'm pretty proud and impressed at myself for being able to catch up on the 4th quarter after being too busy during July-October. This fic has got to be one of my experimental and unique works that I decided to try writing, because the concept that you're about to see here was never been done by me before, meaning that this my first-time writing it. Please understand and pardon me if this one turns out to be not suitable to the liking of some, as I feel like this might not be everyone's cup of tea. Enjoy reading and celebrate a Happy New Year with your loved ones, please!

Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page. TRIGGER WARNING: contains R+18 mature content, smut WORD COUNT: 4,500+ TAGS: abduction, aphrodisiac, tentacles, rough sex, monster fucking, gangbang, breast play, deepthroating, ass filling, creampie

On Friday, November 13, astrophysicist Dr. Kim Dahyun and her research team went from Busan to Seoul to visit a location where they were tasked with conducting a comprehensive examination.

Based on radar data from their headquarters, it was seen that around midnight yesterday, an object that seems to be a fragment of an asteroid or comet crashed into the vicinity of Seoul.

Their chief professor and mentor at the research lab gave them the order to report any unusual sightings they came across there before calling the military and defense squad to seize control of the area and place it under lockdown, keeping everyone outside of the sector out.

Dahyun and her group entered the hidden area through their vehicle, bypassing the main road and making their way to the designated site. They made the decision to park close to the danger zone as they were leaving the road so they could more easily reach the astronomical devices inside.

"So what's this anomaly of yours supposed to look like?" One of her intern graduated to SNU, YN LN asked her after arranging all the panels around the van.

"It's almost the same as what we used to find from the sky, but this one was the first to do the unthinkable." Dahyun answered, wiping her eyeglasses. "The record says that it's like a small shooting star that emerged from the sky, but the impact it left when it came contact here almost triggered a mild earthquake."

"So that's why the sent us in." He responded, nodding his head understandably.

Dahyun turns her head around, acknowledging her other assistant who is testing some devices that they will equip on their hands outside. "Uhm, Minyoung excuse me for a sec will you?"

"Yes, Miss Kim?"

"Can you grab for me that gloves beside the first cabinet?" She pointed at the direction. Minyoung saw it and unhesitantly passed it to her. "Thanks."

"Are you guys good now?" She checked on her accomplices. They signalled her with a positive note. "Okay, let's take a look what they have in store for us."

After getting out of the van, they began to swing the tall leaves that were obstructing their view and path on the verdant field. They weren't even gone from their car for that far when they observed something startling.

The three researchers were welcomed with a bald area on the top portion of the field, which was produced by a big crater on the land. The leaves that were impacted by the collision scattered across the hole.

"This looks huge." YN exclaimed with a gasping mouth. "Are you all sure it's just a thin shooting star-like that appeared yesterday?"

"It is. They even presented it to me." Dahyun explained. "The anomalies here would be always associated to the geological condition here. I have a chart that describes everything we have encountered for these past few years and I've never seen anything like this that an unknown object also gave us a hard time dealing with a quake."

"We better get starting now because to be honest, this is getting really unpredictable to the minute and I couldn't understand what's going on as long as we see it ourselves." Minyoung suggested. Dahyun and YN looked at her and they were both convinced. YN planted a huge nail beside the crater and wrapped a rope around it that will serve as their handle when going down to the crater.

As the three of them made it below. They began to look around and observe deeply the surfaces. Minyoung kneels down and poked a stick on a gross material, forming a disgusted expression on her face. "Uhh guys, take a look at this."

Dahyun and YN came towards her. "Does this remind you of something?" Minyoung said as she twirled and flipped it around, almost like she's playing on it.

"Is that an eggshell?" YN asked, furrowing his brows at the black and velvet-colored thin piece swimming at a pool of gooey substance.

"Could be. Just look at the fluids around that probably came from this." Dahyun said, mentioning the slime. They garnered their eyes more at their surroundings, there were even bigger ones that what Minyoung has found and they were also mostly covered with a slime.

"Get away from that, Minyoung-ah. Don't you see how disgusting it is?!" YN scolded his friend. He started to cover his nose too with his shirt. "And do you guys smell that?"

"Yeah, it's bad." Dahyun clenched her face in dislike. "Feels like there's a rotting organ in here."

"Wait, so are we gonna conclude right away that we just discovered a cracked egg?" YN said. He scoffed and rubbed his face. "Am I correct at what I think this might mean?"

"No, YN. We're just getting started here. We are researchers we came here to finish our task and not do it in rush just because we're in an unsettling situation right now." Dahyun protested. "We don't jump into conclusions right away."

"S-sorry, Prof." YN bowed his head. "It's just.. I'm sensing something wrong in here."

"YN, let's just wish it would not happen at all. Okay?"

YN looked at Dahyun's comforting and calm demeanor. He nodded shyly. "Yes, Ms. Kim."

Snapping a few photos of the scene, Dahyun gave Minyoung and YN the order to take everything out of the van that would be necessary for them to make a report and gather any evidence that they would find here. Dahyun borrowed a tracker and used it to glide around the crater's borders while they did so.

The tracker bumped against a tall leaf, and the alarm began to sound loudly. After receiving an alert, Dahyun was perplexed as to what it had discovered. Before she caught anything, she inspected the dirt and leaves in the area.

The leaves did not have sharp, pointed ends. Rather, it appears as though the flower has grown directly onto the leaf, utilizing it as a stem or something unexplainable. Dahyun thought it was rather strange to see a flower extending through the body of the leaves itself.

She stepped back to wipe the dust off her face as the flower burst some sprinkle of nectar on her face as she reached out to touch it. She held her tracker again while she coughed, but she quickly figured out that it was unresponsive.

"There's got to be some power or equipment malfunction" Dahyun hissed on the device as she carried it. "Minyoung! YN! I need a help on-"

Dahyun was about to walk back on the van when suddenly she went out of balance and slipped through the crater. When she was about to get up, she saw the van fleeted upwards to the sky, a hole was formed on the bottom of the vehicle before it splitted in half when it crashed on the ground. Her heart shattered she heard it explode.

She wasn't devastated because of the vehicle, but because of the fact that two of her colleagues were inside that van when it exploded. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" she shouted at the horrific sight from outside the crater.

Dahyun ran through the ropes and hurriedly climbed but she started getting drowsy and lightheaded, her body losing it sense until it managed to get her out of the grip from the rope, sending her unconscious inside the crater.

Right after she snapped out, the ground she's laying at started to flow like waves.

Dahyun woke up hours later, but not without a clue on her, as her mind was still rebooting from what happened to her earlier. Her eyes opened, and there she witnessed herself sitting in the middle of what it seems to be a cave.

She slowly risen up to her feet, her feet stumbled a bit as she felt a dull ache on her head once again. Rubbing it to ease it off atleast, Dahyun breathed deeply before returning back her attention on her current situation of getting stuck.

She couldn't find any light that would provide her to a clearer vision of everything around her. Nervous and desperate to find a route to escape, Dahyun had no other choice but to walk around and explore for a route way out.

"HELPPP!!! ANYBODY OUT THERE CAN HEAR ME?!" Dahyun pleaded as loud as she can reach on her voice. "MINYOUNG? YN? WHERE ARE-"

She paused as she recalled earlier seeing their van where her two assistants were staying in. Her emotions overtook her, releasing teardrops across her face. She also began to feel guilty, thinking that she should have ordered them to go back inside and fetch all of their equipment on her behalf.

Maybe if it wasn't for her, she wouldn't led both her friends on their own demise. Dahyun sobbed heavily as she repeated calling their names in agony.

She slammed her hand accidentally on some surface. Dahyun probably guessed it a wall where she could support herself while trailing along the cave. She took the opportunity, caressing and patting it.

However, Dahyun noticed something different. It was rough, soft, and quite sticky as she could describe. She tried to smell it, and it brought her to a familiar rotten organ smell she, Minyoung, and YN had depicted earlier.

"Huh? What is this?" Dahyun questioned herself where she is also the only one who could find the answer. With one more pat onto the strange wall, she noticed the entire area start to glow including the one where she is touching.

She roamed her eyes around, and it made her tensed to learn that she does indeed correct on her being stuck inside a cave right now, but rather everything that blocks her from the possibility of escaping is covered with unidentified type of organs.

There was a dark area on the far end just right in front of Dahyun's direction. She could swear that she had a glimpse of something that just moved there and disappeared from the shadows in a few second. "WHO'S T-THERE?!" she shouted as she started having suspicions in her mind.

Taking few steps ahead to check out what it is, a loud roar put her into halt before she was about to scream in terror. She fell on her butt and her breathing goes faster, wondering what kind of a monstrous noise she just heard.

She then saw something emerging from the drak shadows. In her utmost bewilderment and panic, an abomination has appeared in front of her, standing tall with its bulbous, humungeous and very disfigured appeareance.

It's size is like almost half of the space of the cave they're occupying, and Dahyun was in complete disbelief that the fear of YN he was trying to refer a while ago has unfortunately manifested into reality. A beast from the space or in other term made by humans ourselves, called aliens- are real in Dahyun's universe.

"D-don't come closer to me!" Dahyun tensefully said as she starts to crawl away from the monster. It blabbered some unusual noises that almost formed some inaudible words while shaking its head madly, and after that, Dahyun saw something popping out of its body.

Two slimy tentacles just came out from each sides and began crawling through Dahyun to reach each of her ankles and get wrapped. She then felt her body being dragged closer to the monster and Dahyun repeatedly yelled, begging for it to stop while tugging the tentacles with all the force she could apply to yank it off, only to end up with no effect.

As Dahyun was placed almost inches away from the gigantic alien creature, she has finally accepted her fate of being helpless and in danger. Tears filled with nothing but negative emotions streamed out of her eyes before the monster blew out some gas that has a color similar to the nectars that were sprayed on her by an infected plant earlier.

After she smelled it, she soon finds her body growing into a sense of arousal that urges her horny feelings to activate. She tried to endure it but she could swear that her skin were releasing more sweat and her pussy and her nipples are starting to become sensitive.

The tentacles must've found the lustful sensation brewing inside of her, and they took the perfect timing as one of them starts to slid through her pencil skirt and lift it up her tummy before it traces her pussy through the soaked panty. It's partner focused on her clothed breasts, bumping it and feeling its softness as it bounces.

Several more tentacles were released from the creature, but this time with various sizes and colors. Some were lighter or darker, some where thicker or thinner. The thin ones snaked through her sleeve and forcefully spreaded her top, revealing her white strapped bras containing her milky tits.

The rest then helped to remove her skirt, exposing her into half naked with her matching pair of white bra and panties. "NOOO! PLEASE, DON'T DO IT!" Dahyun pleaded until she unexpectedly released a sultry moan when a fast tentacle moves through her cheek and rubs itself on her skin.

All the tentacles starts to wrap around on her meaty thighs and slender arms in order to suspend her in mid-air. Their touch becomes even more satisfying and felt relaxing to Dahyun despite how denial the words coming out of her mouth.

Being half-naked and spreaded in front of the creature's ugly looking face, the tentacle then moved from her cheek to her lips as it continues to rub across Dahyun's pretty face. Her lips starts to pucker and the effects of the strange gas which was probably aphrodisiac as Dahyun guessed, made her more susceptible as it clouded her mind with lust and temptation.

She starts kissing the tentacle before it slid through her mouth, she sucks on it like it was a cock entering on her.

The other tentacles started to become bold also. They tugged and remove her bras and panties, finally making her naked. There's these suction cups- like tentacles went to crept up on her torso to her underboobs, feeling her perky tits bounce on their motions before its lips opened and sucked on her hardened pinky nipples.

Thinner tentacles spreaded her walls, assisting the thicker tubular object crawl and enter her tight pussy. It effectively brought another relieving feeling on Dahyun's aroused body, moaning in rhythm to the tentacle's barging on her constricted hole.

Their movements became faster and rougher, including the suction cups almost biting her nipples then returning to lick on it like there were supposed to have milk leaking out of Dahyun's breasts.

Due to the sudden increase of pace, it also din't allow more time for the tentacles to reach their limit. Despite her little efforts and strength to shake them off their body, Dahyun uncontrollably welcomes their slimy liquid that probably resembles to a man's cum, into her warm throat and womb.

She lets out a poor groan and whimper, sniffling in fear of what it could bring her after when she watched the odd colors and thickness of their cum flowing out of her. She hoped it would not cause her to get pregnant, especially if it would mean that she would breed an abnormal hybrid that sets aparts from what a normal baby should look like.

Desire is what Dahyun could just accept within her, disturbing and letting out the pleasure she has long kept to seek any solutions for it. First load wasn't enough for the tentacles howsoever, as she felt the tentacles changing their hold on her limbs to prepare her for a next position.

Still hanging from the mid-air, Dahyun's body was forced to bend, with her backdoor being the one facing the beast. The tentacles spreaded her legs, causing her cheeks and puffy pussy to open a little.

With her arms around her back, Dahyun endured all the harsh slaps of the thicker tentacles to each of her curvy asscheeks. She lost the count of how many times they played on it, too obsessed on how soft and big enough for it to give comfort on these creatures.

Funtime didn't lasted longer as they went already to the next move. She felt the girthy pair pounding both her asshole and pussy, fucking them simultaneously. Her body went back and forth at their movement.

The suction cups returned to play on her breats, tugging on her nipples and stretching them as farther her endurance could take. Dahyun hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure only because it aided the abuse her tits were being applied at when she felt something gliding through her entire back.

She turned her head around and witnessed the alien sticking out its wide and long tongue slurping the taste of of the sweat forming across her back view.

The thick tentacles reached their climax, exploding a second amount of load to her love holes. Dahyun huffed at the unmatched energy of these active creatures using her body for pleasure.

As they release from her ass and pussy. She was repositioned again. She was now facing the monster completely before she gulped when she realized what she was about to suffer next.

A huge- like literally- gigantic cock, probably measuring around 14 or 15 inches in size unbeatable to any men's size around the world, is ready to explore Dahyun's innards. Dahyun wiggled her legs, afraid that she might break from being unable to take his girth.

But again, she is outnumbered with numerous tentacles attached to her body, imprisoning her from any attempts of escaping, even though she has no other palns anymore as the aphrodisiacs are still in full effect on her.

Their strength pressed Dahyun's body to the awaiting cock. Due to its massive size it struggled to enter Dahyun's tight little pussy before it succeeded, only for the poor scientist to scream and grit her teeth in a shocking pain while the creature twitched and produced more creepy noises.

Thankfully, it didn't last long as the impressive pleasure began to take over her body when the monster started ramming his cock on her pussy, demolishing her womb inside. She went crazily bouncing on its crotch. Dahyun's eyes are completely white, with her pupils now rolled at the back at the intense pace of fucking she's receiving.

Her mouth began to lustfully agape, with her tongue sticking out as the monster cock continues to push deeper across Dahyun's walls. Her ass starts to create loud claps around the cave as it hits the alien's crotch repeatedly.

The giant cock stuffed into her pussy then pulsated, as it erupted a terrifying amount of dirty white cum almost inflating Dahyun's stomach like she is about to be mistakenly identified as pregnant, before it slowly slid out of her pussy, allowing the rest of the load to explode out of her abused hole.

The tentacles lets go of her body, releasing Dahyun on the ground, which gave her time to rest for a while. She panted heavily and speechless at the rough fucking she just had with the monster alien. She couldn't deny that there might be no other man she would ever met that would match the performance of what this monster has showed to her.

All of the tentacles and the bulbous cock slowly erected again the more the creature stares at Dahyun's messy and sticky nude body lying on the floor. They decided to proceed with the last action, as they focus once again on her nether regions.

Lifting her up, they spreaded her arms and legs again and faced her closer to the creature. The suction cups slowly crawled on her back then cupped her full breasts from behind. Dahyun whined and moaned at the relaxing and tickly feeling it gives. One tentacle went through her tongue, a pair goes back to her pussy and asshole.

There was a twist added again coming from the idea of the monster. Wanting to give every single part of her body that could provide a purpose of satisfaction to this monster's desire, they let go of Dahyun's hands and two tentacles caressed her fingers.

Dahyun sensed their hidden message for doing that and finding out the answer, she formed a fist and gripped the tentacles, stroking them like she would do to a male cock.

All of her body and now functioning properly following the monster's command. Dahyun's mind is full of sex. She has been hypnotized and manipulated too much by the pleasure and sensation that the creature has been passing through her using its ability to fuck her senseless and take her breath away.

The thick tentacles had her overpowered and weak from the way they drill through her holes as deeper as they could get. Dahyun felt her neck bulging as the tentacle gave her a deep throat, her clit being scrubbed by a tentacle with a brush-like end on it to add more pleasure, and the other tentacle wiggling around her ass.

They all began to pull the trigger of increasing the speed while they all moved in unison, their grip on her skin went tighter as they felt this familiar tightness in their system, approaching the climax of their endurance. Dahyun squirted her juices again and spasmed at her own orgasm, resulting to her walls clamping on the tentacles more.

Few more waves, pumps and strokes they gave and finally they executed their final blow, releasing their cum flowing through her throat, ass and pussy simultaneously, as she switches through gags and moans. The two other tentacles enwrapped on her fists splashed their warm sticky liquid on her arms and side of her face.

The rest of the tentacles joined, painting Dahyun's entire body with the rest of the cum flowing and leaking out of its ends. As they finished, the tentacles crawled around Dahyun's skin, giving her body a nice calming massage to ride out their lengthy session of sex and intense orgasms they shared.

Dahyun couldn't opened her eyes wide anymore as she knew she's completely drained now. The creature slowly laid her back on the ground with her body entirely covered with cum. She also weakly spitted and coughed out some from her mouth after unable to swallow all of the load down to her filled tummy.

Now that she can have her rest, Dahyun slowly shuts her eyes as she went unconscious, while the tentacles continue to caress her hair gently and massage her body, especially her addicting round tits, as they wiped away all the stuffs around her pearly skin.

When she woke up again from her long slumber, she found herself lying on a hospital bed with her body now clothed in a hospital gown.

Realizing that she is now in a hospital and two familiar people sleeping with their head resting beside her bed, she concluded that after everything that happened to her, she was now free and safe from that creature she encountered.

She gasped and shuddered as she remembered what it did to her, it awakened her parents and quickly hugged her in response to her fine state. "Oh thank God you're okay.", her mother said.

"How are you feeling, daughter?" Mr. Kim checked up on her. "It's been days you were confined. We were really worried that something worse could happen."

"I-I'm alright… I'm just… still tired." Dahyun said in a weak tone. Her eyes became watery when she remembered Minyoung and YN. "Mom… Dad, we-… we got ambushed. They didn't make it, it's my fault." she said as her lips trembled.

"No, daughter. Don't blame yourself, we know you can't do such bad thing with whole intention. I know you." Mrs. Kim said, rubbing her palms to calm down her poor daughter.

"We heard what happened to you and your team, Dubu. We're sorry." Her father stated in sympathy. "But we couldn't help ourselves to be thankful that we have been given a miracle to have you still here, safe and sound."

"I missed you, Mom… Dad." Dahyun holds her mother's hand and looked them in the eyes tenderly. "I thought I wouldn't make it."

"Oh, by the way. If you may be wondering how did we managed to get you here, it's all thanks to your workmates. They sent a rescue on the location where they found you lying on a grass field with your…. dress torn up covering your body." Her father gulped and lowered his head in regret at the last words. Dahyun just furrowed her brows, couldn't recall that part.

Dahyun saw her mom getting choked up on her emotions. She pressed her hands on her own and stared at her eagerly. "Dubu, answer me with all honesty. Okay?"

Dahyun just listened attentively on what her mom's about to ask. "W-who did this to you?"

Their conversation were interrupted when the door opened. Two men appeared in a room, in which Dahyun speculated that it's a doctor and the other one works in the military.

"Pardon to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Kim but this gentleman right here is taking a visit and… to ask for a request for the both of you." The doctor said. He looked at his patient, his face lightened in relief. "Oh, you're Miss Dahyun right? Good thing that you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Fined, doc." Dahyun replied.

"Is there anything you need from us, sir…?" her mother asked.

"General Knight Yoo of the Seoul Military Army. Greetings to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Kim." the military man introduced himself to the family, performing a salute gesture. "Yes, I actually would like to speak with your daughter."

They all looked at Dahyun who became curious at the acknowledgement. "For what, sir?"

"It's regarding to that research that your team embarked near outside Itaewon." Knight elaborated. Dahyun's eyes widened in astonishment as his words struck those memories of her on that given time to repeat in cycle on her mind, including that one awful experience that she had.

"Your faculty cooperated with us in order to seek help when they lost their line to your team. We went through an investigation at that site and we found something… threatening, and we assume that since you're the only survivor in the incident confirmed yet, we would like you to enlighten us as we interrogate you about what actually happened."

Dahyun pursed her body forward slight from leaning on the bed, her face showed a puzzled expression. "Wait, what do you mean 'yet'?"

General Yoo maintained his intrigued stare at the patient. "Ms. Bae Minyoung's remains were found by the forensic team but your other accomplice, Mr. YN LN is still nowhere to be found but some of his torn out clothing were seen inside a cave. We will give it one week before we rule him as deceased."

Dahyun's switched looks at the four people gathered around her before she lured away her eyes filled with hope for her friend's disappearance from them.

Her traumatic experience of being conquered by an abomination should've brought her instantly to cooperate with the armed forces as they requested for her to stand up as the witness and part of the evidence in this important matter.

But rather, she's conflicted about what she should consider telling to them.

The idea of the alien monster who also amazingly pleasured her beyond the edge, disregarding the actual peculiar possibility behind the monster's odd behavior when she was held captive which failed for Dahyun to intepret; made her think twice on the decision she has to unveil.

[noemilivv]

Taking advantage of the fact that my man Saint Peter is a requestable character now so—

If it’s not too much to ask, could I get some (wholesome) first time headcanons with Saint Peter?

Like first time we held hands, first kiss, first I love you, first moment he realized he’s crushing on reader, ect stuff like that! Ik it’s a lot, I’m so sorry 😭😭 even just doing two is fine I swear I’m just craving some Peter content 💕

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞(𝐬) 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: OMG CHITO YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME 😭😭 while reading this i thought it was gonna be a smut request and i don’t write smut so i got so scared. but yeah, ofc!! enjoy !!

warnings: use of yn

proofread: nope LOL

tags: saint peter, hazbin hotel, fanfic, x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

“hi, welcome to heaven! can i get your name please?” a grinning blonde asked you, slicking back his hair, a book in his hands.

“oh, yn.” you smiled back at him, so calmly, which contrasted to how his stomach was feeling right now. you seemed so cool.

“oh! uh, yeah, ok!” peter replied, whistling as he scrolled through the pages of his list, “ah! here ya are, r-right this way.” peter smiled, leading you to the gates, before sighing right as you were out of sight. you were really pretty.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

over the course of your time in heaven, you and the saint had grown significantly closer, which eventually resulted in a first date after a few months.

you had suggested an ice skating date, which was fitting, due to heaven growing a more wintery vibe due to christmas being mere weeks away. but saint peter couldn’t help but (silently) disagree, he had no idea how to ice skate, and even worse, he told you he was amazing at it!

the day came sooner than peter would’ve liked it too, you both met up with eachother at the rink, by the time he got on the ice, you would already there.

peter went to approach you, before fumbling across the ice as he attempted to skate before bashing his face into the glass wall, looking at you with an embarrassed grin.

“here..” you say, taking his hand, “i’ll teach you!”

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

the night of your first date came to an end sooner than peter would’ve liked it too, despite the rough start on his side, he walked you home, dropping you off at your door, the sky a bright pink-yellow from the sun setting just below them, the night sky would be arising any time now for earth.

“thanks pete, tonight was really fun.” you smiled, standing just infront of your door, “it was no biggie, hehe. t-totally fun!” peter said, going to walk off, before you reached for his wrist, pulling him closer to you.

your lips were inches apart, you could feel his hot breath fan your face, you grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a kiss. peter’s eyes snapped shut tightly, as he rested his hands on your shoulders, his lips were so soft, so heavenly.

you both pulled apart in sync moments after, peter chuckled breathily, pressing his forehead against yours, “does this mean i could maybe steal you for another date next weekend?”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[tulipfantasies]

night on the town ✩ n.romanoff

pairing; natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; a simple night on the town leads to the discoveration of pain and addiction.

characters; (mentions) og 6 and a woman named maria (not hill).

warnings; 16+ (just to be safe), use of alcohol and cigarettes, (mentions) underage smoking, (mentions) addiction, (mentions) natasha's past at the red room, (mild) swearing, (mild) jealous r, nat is ooc again, (minor) angst and fluff. 

my notes;  please, if any of the topics in bold make you uncomfortable or trigger you, do not read onwards. i don't want to upset anyone so consider it your warning. i don't think i like this one. can anyone spot the small pop culture reference??

word count; 2.6k ao3

A ‘simple night on the town’ turns into 1:04 am. 

The entire length of the streets of New York was bathed in a soft amber glow, all thanks to the street lights that were situated on every corner of the Avenues. 

Midtown, or at least the side you all find yourselves on, was eerily calm given the environment (and the atmosphere hidden on the inside) that was nestled amongst the usually busy streets.

No car horns were heard for miles on end.

For the middle of spring, the air was bitterly cold yet so freeing. In stark contrast to the air behind the secured doors, which was heavy and suffocating.

Tony, among one of his genius plans, had decided that you all deserved to take a break from your demanding and life-saving lives.

He described it as a ‘simple night out on the town’, but we all know that in Tony’s dictionary, that was an excuse for him to get shit-faced. 

So, naturally, you all tagged along to keep him out of trouble and to have a little fun yourselves.

Who could pass up a free drink and the chance to unwind anyway?

Now, none of the team members that tagged along were anywhere in sight except for those who were strictly keeping sober or physically couldn’t get drunk.

The sensible ones.

The only remaining ones were around the table in the VIP booth that Tony rented in the club.

2:45 am.

It’s been 1 hour and 41 minutes since you last saw her dancing with some brunette, who has definitely drunk more than the legal requirement.

Desperate.

1 hour and 41 minutes of scanning through the hot and heavy crowd in search of a single sign that she was still dancing with the brunette or getting another drink at the bar.

None. 

“Y/n? Where are you going?” Steve’s voice calls out over the booming music as he watches you snatch your phone from off the table impatiently.

“Need fresh air.” You reply hastily before throwing a small smile over your shoulder and in his direction.

“She’s going to find Nat,” Clint’s voice could just about be heard over the music as he was talking to Steve and you were walking further away. “Like always.”

The music was practically deafening to the ears; the last thing on a drunken mind was the volume of the music.

Sex and more alcohol always are. 

You were just silently thanking yourself that you had entered the club with a lot more self-control and had only ended up getting tipsy this time around.

Unlike Tony who was completely shit-faced.

Pushing through the thick sea of plastered couples (who were dancing in a way that was even too much for you) was a task in itself but you finally managed to reach the front doors to the club.

Soft, yet bright, light was emitted in your direction causing you to wince. 

You let out a large sigh of relief the further away you stumble from the raging nightclub, random shot glass in hand, and into the bitter air that pierced the exposed skin on your arms and legs.

A small shiver runs down your spine.

“Fancy seeing you here,” A sultry voice brings your, slightly blurred, attention away from the empty shot glass in your hand and toward the direction where it came from.

The dimly lit alleyway. “Got tired of being in there?”

“Nat!” You exclaim in relief as you slowly make your way over toward the alleyway. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you for like the past hour.”

The closer you reach her, the more of her outline you can make out.

She’s leaning up against the masonry while nursing a half-empty bottle of tequila (or vodka, it was too dark to make it out) in one hand and a lit cigarette in between her index finger and middle finger on her other.

A dangerous combo for a dangerous woman.

“I’ve been out here the entire time, detka.”

“Oh? With that brunette who was all over you like some desperate-”

“Careful now,” She cuts your words off with a smug grin and a tsk sound. “You had a lot to drink, detka?”

“Uh, yeah, a few but I’m not drunk like Tony.” You reply as you make a move to lean up against the wall opposite to her.

No other words were spoken as she raised the cigarette to her lips to take a long drag. 

Drag after drag, she slowly puffs the lethal smoke out towards the right of her while she makes sure that not once does she take her emerald gaze from off of you.

It was an intense gaze.

“But that’s beside my point, who the hell was that brunette dancing with you?” You ask abruptly with a raised brow. She chuckles in amusement at your clear jealousy. “Because she was getting way too cosy with you.”

“No one important, just someone who drunkenly came up and started dancing with me,” Natasha replies as if it never bothered her because it didn’t bother her. “Think she said her name was Maria or something.” 

Maria. “Hm, you seemed to get pretty handsy with her, do you like her?”

“Where’s all this jealousy coming from, Y/n/n?” She asks in an amused tone which is followed by a chuckle. Oh, she was enjoying this. “To be fair, it’s amusing seeing you go all green over some random girl, especially one I don’t know or have an interest in.”

“Y’know, I’d rather not discuss it.” You say, brushing off her question and ignoring her comment as you turn to face away from her so she can’t see you roll your eyes.

There’s a pregnant pause before you clear your throat and look back toward her with a slightly softened gaze.

The cigarette remains firmly pressed in between her fingers.

“Have you always smoked?” You ask, to change the subject, as you fold your arms over your chest.

Natasha doesn't reply straight away but takes another drag.

She drops the remaining bit of her cigarette onto the ground so that she can stamp harshly on it, with the sole of her shoe, just to make sure that it’s out.

“Mhm,” she hums with a shrug of her shoulders. “Just kept it to myself, I guess.”

Taking your bottom lip in between your upper front teeth, you nervously chew on it as she leans forward to slip the shot glass from out of your hand and into hers.

Without any sounds, she lets the clear liquid trickle out of the bottle and into the shot glass before gently handing it back to you.

You bring the rim of the shot glass to your lips before knocking it back in one go. Straight tequila. 

“Oh, god, that’s tequila.” You state in a strained voice and with a noticeable grimace as the liquid burns the back of your throat.

Natasha chuckles at the sight of your grimace before smiling softly as you clear your throat. “You okay there, detka?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You reply before sighing and reaching up to give your temple a quick but firm rub. “You know smoking is bad for your lungs, right? And besides, what are you out here drinking tequila straight for?”

With her fingers curled around the neck of the tequila bottle, she brings the rim of the bottle up to her lips intending to tip it back to take another swig.

But she doesn’t. 

“You only get one chance in life, detka,” she replies nonchalantly, ignoring your second question, before finally taking a swig of the alcohol. “I’ve learnt that the hard way.”

Given what she was forced to witness and trained into doing while growing up, it made some sense for her to be wishing away her life like this.

That amount of trauma is often immovable and can only be numbed by the effects of drugs and alcohol.

The Red Room raised those girls into being their bloodthirsty puppets, the ones who were forced to believe that they had no place in the world and yet here Natasha is, with her foot in the world, throwing it all away just to numb her feelings.

You never really know what you’ve got until it's too late.

The thought of going through what she had growing up made your skin crawl.

“How long have you been smoking for?” You ask cautiously as you stare at the redhead who lets out a long sigh.

From that sigh alone, you can tell it wasn’t a habit that she had recently picked up. 

“Listen, I didn’t come out to get interrogated about my unhealthy habits, so just drop it, alright?” She defends herself before she extends the neck of the bottle back over to you.

You decline with a shake of your head.

One shot of tequila is enough. You can’t stomach anymore tonight.

“How long have you been smoking, Nat?”

She lets out a defeated sigh. “Not sure. Since I was, like, 14 or 15.”

You would say that you’re surprised to hear that she’s been smoking so young but by the looks of it, smoking has become an unhealthy coping mechanism for the shit life she’s got.

You just wish it wasn’t her that was suffering like this.

“A cigarette is the least of my worries.” She replies with a shrug before closing her eyes to relive the memory.

“They drugged me with all kinds of things in the Red Room so I added to it by stealing a cigarette from a packet in a guard’s pocket. I can still remember getting in trouble now.”

Silence comes from her end as her gaze flickers down to the squashed cigarette on the floor before glancing back up at you, who peacefully analyses her.

She can’t stop.

“And it’s turned into a habit that you now can’t break.”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.” 

“Does smoking and drinking like this at least make you feel better?” You ask curiously but cautiously.

When it comes to Natasha, you have to choose your words carefully.

Natasha doesn’t let her guard down around anyone yet here she was, in a dingy alleyway, letting you see the regret and pain shining in her eyes.

No, it doesn’t.

Your heart aches for her; all the cigarettes and alcohol that she’s taken over the years (outside and inside of you knowing her) haven’t numbed the pain in the way she hoped it would.

It just put her at ease for a certain amount of time.

“Oh, Tasha.” 

She doesn’t say anything else but instead, her gaze flickers away from your eyes (which she always finds herself lost in) and down to your soft-shaped lips.

So kissable. 

She could practically taste the bitterness and sweetness of the alcohol on the tip of her tongue.

At that moment, she knew that she wanted, no, needed to kiss you more than ever. 

Without any hesitation, she takes a step toward you so she can place her hands on your hips (despite still holding onto the bottle) so she can gently tug your back away from the masonry.

Her blurry gaze rests on your lips, memorising the shape and softness of them before she dips her head down slightly.

Her lips were inches away from yours. 

“Nat-”

“-Shut up and let me kiss you.” She growled before pulling you in closer so that her hot breath was fanning against your lips. 

The moment her lips crash against yours, your hands instinctively reach up to comb through her soft red locks.

She tastes like 5 different alcohols and nicotine all in one go; normally you’re not into that but, right now, you crave her. 

You didn’t want her to break the kiss any time soon but she did and instead of moving away from you, she rested her forehead against hers.

The both of you were panting softly.

“Are you addicted to them?” You whisper as your hands drop from her hair and down to cup her rosy cheeks. “The way they make you feel numb or how they make you act?”

Her forehead drops against yours as her head hangs low and the warmth her body was radiating disappears as she takes a step back from you.

A small nod confirms everything you need to know.

She’s addicted.

She stares at you as she extends her arm out so that she can carelessly throw the empty bottle of tequila as far away from her as possible.

Your grip on your shot glass loosens so the shattering noise rippling through the alleyway increases just like the pile of glass shards.

“I–I don’t know how to stop.” 

The alcohol in her system has weakened the walls she put up for her protection to the point where they were trembling.

“You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

You take a short step toward her to go back to gently cupping her cheeks in your soft hands.

She leans into your touch as a thick singular tear rolls down her cheek. 

Here she was, standing in front of you, looking vulnerable and broken. And boy, did the people of her past break her.

“I want to stop. I do but I can’t.” She admits in a soft tone as if she is worried about other people hearing her. “I’ve tried so many times.”

The glass shards crunch under your footing as you drop your touch on her cheeks to wrap your arms around her torso.

She instantly wraps her arms around you in return. 

“I promise you, I am going to help you out of this.” You whisper your promise as she buries her head into the crook of your neck.

You’re wearing the perfume that drives her crazy.

It felt as if your promise was empty but the determination flooding through your system tells you that you will not let it be empty.

You are going to help her through this, like it or not.

“Let’s go get some water so we can sober up, yeah?” You whisper as she pulls away to give you a nod of agreement. “You’re stuck with me, now, Nat.”

“There’s no one I would rather be stuck with, detka.” She whispers back as she slips her hand in between yours to squeeze it before following as you both sluggishly walk out of the alleyway.

The alleyway that you stood in, kissed in and where she bit the bullet and admitted defeat. 

The streets remain silent as the two of you stumble down them, hand in hand.

The bitter air no longer bothered you or the exposed skin that you were showing, not when you were wrapped underneath Natasha’s arm. 

“Thank you,” She says, after silence, as you two stumble onto the corner of the street to call a taxi. Thankfully there was one in the distance. “For not judging me and sticking by me. Even in my darkest times.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Natasha.” You reply as a taxi pulls up in front of you. You both climb in and mutter your destination to the driver before you turn back to look at her. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, because I’d do anything for the people that I love. And it’s safe to say that I’m in love with you.”

She smiles softly at your, slightly drunken, confession before bringing your hand up to her lips so she can press a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist and then against your palm. 

“I love you too, detka,” she whispers as she moves her head to catch your lips in for a sweet but short-lived kiss. “More than anything in this world. I love you.”

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography 

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta. 

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done. 

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for. 

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation. 

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for. 

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him. 

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing. 

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.” 

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?” 

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.” 

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out. 

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.” 

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.” 

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?” 

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?” 

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.” 

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?” 

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it. 

She might be. 

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—” 

“Hey.” 

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.” 

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else. 

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class. 

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on. 

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—” 

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.” 

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.” 

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.” 

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home. 

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.” 

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours. 

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream. 

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old. 

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways. 

But it’s not up to you. 

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel. 

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating. 

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome. 

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts. 

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking. 

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.  

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for  most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged. 

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him. 

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.” 

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull. 

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack. 

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy. 

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take. 

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding. 

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating. 

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed. 

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal. 

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all. 

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him. 

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself. 

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy. 

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it.. 

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you. 

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat. 

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?” 

“What?” 

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?” 

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to. 

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?” 

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself. 

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why? 

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away. 

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.” 

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous. 

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.” 

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more. 

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.” 

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear. 

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other. 

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun. 

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?” 

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.” 

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?” 

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?” 

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?” 

“So you can get his number.” 

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes. 

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.” 

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.” 

And then you’re alone again. 

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed. 

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous. 

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing. 

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet. 

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind. 

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now. 

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion. 

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind. 

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time. 

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement. 

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip. 

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable.  He’s going to be a problem.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part fifteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: another happy birthday post for @that-veela-girl bc i love her and thank you so so much for supporting me and reading my stuff and helping me with it too AH it just means so much to me!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

You didn't talk about a single important thing in the hour that followed. You had changed into more comfortable day clothes, something Coryo instantly thought made you look more like yourself, and somehow made your way outside onto the back porch swing.

"Did you win your prize?" You ask, staring out over the meadow behind your home as you gently rock the bench back and forth with one foot on the ground.

"I did." He smiles, unable to take his eyes off of you. You catch him staring as you turn to look at him, an excited smile on your face.

"Did you really?" You grin, excitedly reaching out and placing your hands on his thigh, hoping that it wasn't a joke.

"I did, yeah." He confirms, chuckling. "Highbottom was very against it, but the odds weighed against him." Coryo shrugs.

"Oh, Coryo, that's wonderful. Congratulations." You pat his leg before removing your hands, retreating them to your own lap.

"I owe it all to you."

"Why is that, anyway?" You ask, eyes once again focussed on the wind forcing the grass this way and that. "I knew you needed people to like me, but you never told me why."

He lets out a breath while he delays his response. "Well... The task they gave us was to turn the tributes into something people could get attached to- something people wanted to watch." He explains. "You made it easy. I just needed to get people to see you for who you were. To see that you were worth watching. That you were special." He shrugs, looking down at his lap and picking at his nails. "It helped that Sejanus's family paid out the prize, I think." He chuckles.

"Ah." You nod, not wanting to think about it anymore but still glad you got answers. "Is he upset with me?"

"Sejanus?" Coryo asks and you hum. "No, not one bit." He promises.

"I-I mean..." You stammer, taking a deep breath. "About Marcus?"

"No." Coryo repeats, shaking his head. "He left before the games started, he didn't see what happened. I explained it to him before we even left the arena, though. He felt bad for even thinking for a moment you had done something wrong."

"You're sure?" You ask quietly, eyes brimming red as you look over at him. He nods. He wants to reach out and touch you, hold your hand, but he's unsure if that's even okay. Even after what happened the night before the games, now you were treating him very much as a friend. He didn't want to overwhelm you, so he would leave those questions for another day.

"Positive."

"You don't speak of your Dean favourably." You comment, wanting to change the subject. "Why? He was very good to me."

"You met him?"

"He saw me off at the train station." You nod. "Gave me some cash, promised me that compact would make it back to you."

"Oh..." He mumbles. "He just has some vendetta against me. I don't know why."

"I see." You nod. "That makes sense... He told me that I was lucky I survived you. It was odd."

Coryo chews the inside of his cheek, and it was his turn to look out over the scenery while you watched him. "He's always hated me. I've done nothing to him."

"I did not think you would." You defend quickly, the air becoming thick around you. You answered too promptly- he would know that you were afraid. Maybe think you were lying. Even as he sat next to you, smiling more than you had ever seen him do it before, you couldn't look at him the same.

Coryo can sense that you still don't want to talk about the games in any major capacity, and it was in his best interest to not bring up Bobbin, so he changes the subject. "Your cat is adorable, by the way." He can tell that makes you comfortable enough to relax again. He missed you looking at him.

"Isn't he?" You smile, shifting your gaze from him to the back door, hoping to catch a glimpse of your pet in the small window. "He's a sweetheart."

"I'm just glad he didn't attack me." Coryo jokes.

"What?" You laugh. "Why would he?"

"I don't know! I've never had a pet. They scare me a little."

"Oh, Coriolanus Snow is afraid of a cat?" You tease him. "I didn't know that about you."

"Y/N! Lucy Gray is here!" Your mother calls from inside the house and you're quickly distracted, clumsily standing up from the bench, leaving it swinging unsteadily underneath him.

"Coming!" You call out, grabbing his hand to pull him up with you. "You must meet her, she's my best friend. If you think I'm good company you'll see she's all the better."

"I've met her." He replies, allowing you to pull him up from the bench anyway.

"You have?" You ask, brow furrowed.

"Yeah, she helped Sejanus and I find you."

"Sejanus is here?" You smile wide and he nods, a little confused.

"Yeah, he came with-" He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're moving quickly into the house and to the living room where your mother had let them in, leaving the door swinging open behind you.

"Sejanus!" You call out as you see him, almost tackling him in a hug- armed with the confidence in Coryo's honesty that he didn't hate you.

He laughs, catching you in his arms. "Y/N, it's so good to see you..."

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek as he follows you in. He wasn't met with a hug, or near the same amount of excitement. Maybe he underestimated how close you and Sejanus had become while he was stuck in the hospital ward after the bombing.

He can see the three, evenly distributed scars on the back of your leg. Healing, but still bruised all this time later. He wonders if it still hurts.

"How I have missed you- how are you doing?" You grin, pulling away from the hug and running your hands up and down Sejanus's arms.

"I'm pretty good! I've always wanted to see Twelve, so now I finally had a good excuse." He jokes, looking down at you. "How are you, though? That's much more important."

Coryo takes a moment to notice Lucy Gray staring at him. "I take it your hello didn't look like that?" She whispers, forcing him to relax his facial expression to hide any disdain.

"It did." He lies.

"Oh! My mistake then." She replies, clearly not buying it.

He thought you were treating him like a friend, but if this is how you treated friends, he obviously did not meet the mark.

"We found you guys a place to stay." Lucy Gray continues, watching you and Sejanus chat.

"Thank you." Coryo nods at her, but he's still watching you, eyes taking up and down your body, your hair, your skin- but always finding a home on your injured calf.

"Yeah, of course." She hums, arms crossed over her chest. "She'll come around, you know."

You turn, finally ready to greet Lucy Gray. "I'm sorry, I didn't even say hello to you." You giggle, giving her a gentle, less urgent hug.

"That's quite alright, Y/N/N. You see me every day." She laughs, gently rubbing your back.

"And it still doesn't feel like enough." You respond.

"I agree." She hums, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders as you smile at her. Lucy Gray is the only one who knows what you're going through, the only one besides Lennox who knows what your nightmares are like, to have you cry with your head in her lap in her backyard or even at the lake where you used to share the best days of your lives. You felt like you ruined it all, but you felt seen with her. Always.

"Lucy Gray found us a place to stay for the month." Sejanus tells his friend.

"I heard." He mumbles, fighting back the green monster bellowing behind his eyes.

"Yes! Right, I'll get you guys there and settled. I'm sure Y/N is just dying for her afternoon nap." Lucy Gray says, gently squeezing your shoulders. You nod. Even though your visit with Coryo was pleasant, it still placed a weight just behind your ribs you couldn't describe. You needed a break, and your best friend could see it.

"Yes, well, can't get enough of my bed these days..." You joke, but it doesn't come out as lighthearted as you intended, all context considered. You clear your throat. "We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep."

"Certainly." Lucy Gray smiles, pulling you into a quick side hug.

Coryo watches, avoiding reacting to what he saw happening in front of him. With your mother, and now with Lucy Gray. No one here, apparently, just hums in confusion or looks at you funny when you say something that hardly makes sense. They know you. They understand every word; or at least they pretend they do. They answer accordingly, like it was just a normal bit of conversation. There was no one else quite like you, and he was lucky to get to hear it. He knew that, but they knew it first. By the time the games had started, by the time you won and left, Coriolanus had started picking up the habit as well. You weren't entertainment, leaving something to question after every conversation, it was you. All you. And he loved you for it.

"How long will you be here?" You ask, returning your attention to him now. Finally.

"A month." Coryo answers promptly, smiling at you. At first, he thought a month was a long time until the next train left, but now, it didn't feel like nearly enough.

"Wonderful!" You smile, clapping excitedly. "So I will most definitely see you again."

"It's you I'm here to see." He grins, a pink flush spreading on his cheeks.

It matches yours almost perfectly. "Good." You nod. "I'm glad." You almost choke over the words and hope he doesn't notice.

"That reminds me! Lucy Gray's show tonight, are you going?" Sejanus asks you and you glance nervously over at her. It seems to Coryo that his friend was too eager to engulf himself in local culture, when they were supposed to be there to see you.

"Oh, you guys are certainly welcome but..." She looks back at you as she speaks, silently communicating with you on the best way to say this. You just nod. You trust her to speak for you. "Y/N typically doesn't come. It's nothin' new to her, any of my music she wants to hear I can sing for her anytime." She smiles.

"Coryo?" Sejanus asks him now, and he looks at you the same way you looked at Lucy Gray.

You sense his hesitation. Clearly, he will only go if you do. "You know what? I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. I'll come."

Lucy Gray looks surprised, but very pleased. "You will?"

"Sure, why not." She knows why not, but she won't dig any deeper into it in front of the boys.

"Alrighty then! We better get going, I've left rehearsals for long enough. The Covey is probably out searchin' by now." Lucy Gray says, waving the boys to pass her to get to the door.

"Are you sure?" She whispers to you once they cannot hear. "Don't feel pressured."

"I want to spend time with them." You whisper back. "I'll be fine."

She nods, a look of worry in her eyes as she hugs you again.

"Coryo?" You call as you pull away, walking past her to get to the front entrance of your small home.

His head whips up at your voice calling his name, looking at you expectantly. "Will you..." You start, and Coryo watches closely as you begin wringing your hands together in front of yourself.

Yes. Whatever you need, yes.

"If it's not too much trouble, can you come get me before you go? I don't like to walk at night..."

"Of course." He answers without hesitation. "I'll be back later, then."

"Thank you." You smile, cheeks red from the embarrassing question. "I'll see you guys tonight."

You had your so desired afternoon nap after that. Your mom came and laid in bed with you, gushing over how Coriolanus was such a good guest. A kind soul, she said. She could see it in his eyes, apparently, and hear it in the way he spoke about you. You wanted to believe her, but you really weren't sure.

You couldn't help but see him differently after he killed Bobbin. It wasn't necessarily that he killed him, it was the overkill that really haunted you. That last swing after the threat was so clearly subdued. He didn't look like himself anymore. It kept you up at night- and when it didn't, it was a frequent event in your nightmares.

You woke with a jolt from your nap, picturing your mentor standing over you with his blond curls falling over his eyes. You had a hand out to try protect yourself as you slid back across the cold, cemented ground of the arena. This was a common nightmare you had since you returned.

So when you got home from work only to see him standing in your living room, with your mother who knew nothing but the good things about him, you could have cried. Screamed. You thought for a moment that maybe you were sleeping and the dreams had adapted into something worse, but no. He was there. And he was kind, and so happy to see you that the boy you spent most nights remembering seemed incredibly unlikely to exist. When you looked into his eyes, as he silently begged you not to run, he was just Coryo.

Quick footsteps in the hallway turn your attention to the door. "You alright?" Your brother asks, hand braced on the frame to stop himself as if he had been moving too quickly to do it on his own.

"I'm fine." You nod, taking a deep breath and swallowing back your fear again.

Worried, Lennox looks back down the hall before coming into your room, closing the door behind himself. You move over in your shared bed, giving him his spot back as he slides in next to you.

"Nightmare?" He asks quietly, laying on his side to face you.

You just nod.

"Was it... about him?"

You want to lie. Tell him that no, it was just the games in general, but you knew he wouldn't buy it. Not after answering the door to see the boy whose name you mumbled in your sleep, begging for mercy standing in front of him.

That was the reason you had to tell your brother in the first place.

"No, I- Coryo, please..." Your brother hears you shifting under the blanket next to him, watching as Tybalt's ears perk up from your feet. "Please... Don't!"

"Y/N?" He mumbles, rolling over. "You okay?"

Then he realizes as he sees your eyes scrunched shut that you're still asleep. Nightmares he had dealt with for almost a week now, but tonight was the first night your mother didn't insist on sleeping in the room with you, leaving him on the floor while she took his spot. He had a suspicion that your dad was doing the same, just outside the door. But this was the first time you spoke.

"Y/N." He sits up, grabbing your shoulder to try and shake you awake. "Wake up. It's just a nightmare."

You sit up so fast it makes him jump back, the scream that fell from your lips made his heart race even faster. "Y/N?" He asks, quickly crawling back into the bed and trying to touch you, help you, but you're pushing yourself back against the wall, grasping at the sheets as you looked around. It takes you a moment to realize where you are- home. Safe.

Your brother turns his head as your parents come rushing in to comfort you. He doesn't say anything about you talking until you finally settle them enough with your calming smile, assuring them that you're fine and they should go back to bed. That they needed their sleep, while your own cheeks were still red and stained with tears.

He doesn't say a word until he's sure he's heard them go back to bed, staring at you as you lay back down under your quilt and your chest is still rising and falling so fast he's wondering how you're even getting any oxygen to your blood.

"You were talking to him." Lennox whispers, and you just turn your head to look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, voice still hoarse from the scream.

"What did he do to you?" By now, Coriolanus Snow or "Coryo", was a common name in your household. You only spoke of him favourably this last week you'd been home and even before that. That he helped you, saved you.

"Nothing, bud. It was just a dream." Now you're hushing him, reaching over and pulling the blanket up over his shoulder.

You can tell your brother doesn't believe you, but he doesn't know how to ask. What to ask, how to go about it without setting you off or hearing an answer that makes his blood boil so intensely that he jumps on the next Capitol bound freight train to do something you would never forgive him for.

"He didn't hurt me. I promise." You whisper again, sensing his fear. "I just..." You cut yourself off with a sigh. "Can you keep a secret?"

"You know I can." He promises.

You nod, small smile falling on your lips that's illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window. "Do you remember that boy from District Eight? Bobbin?" You whisper and he nods, hanging on every word.

"I watched Coriolanus kill him." You continue, assessing his reaction; confusion and shock settling in all at once. "And it was... Scary. He was already dead, but he hit him again and the look in his eyes I-..." You slightly shake your head. "It wasn't him. That was the last time I saw him. Coryo, I mean."

"How'd he get in?" Your brother whispers. "What was he doing?" It's all he could think to ask. Maybe he had gone to try and save you- to break you out. If you had told him that an hour ago, he would have believed it based on how you spoke about him.

"Sejanus, my other friend, snuck in. He brought bread to scatter over his tribute, and Coryo had to get him out safe." You explain. "He did, but not until after..." You sniff, wiping your eyes with the sheet.

"It's like you didn't know him." Your brother says, fully understanding.

"Yeah." You reply quietly. Lennox had always understood you. "I don't know if he was ever really my friend. If he's not the person I thought he was."

"I'm sorry." Your brother settles on.

"Nature teaches beasts to know their friends."

"You are not a beast." He whispers, brow furrowed.

You smile sadly at him. "You should get back to sleep."

"Yeah." You whisper, looking away and out the window at the sun beginning to set. Coryo would be here soon, and suddenly you were regretting agreeing to go out at all. "It was about him."

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also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[s0urw00lf]

Our future is in our hands

Pairing: pre!college Sam Winchester x reader

Summary: you and Sam go from talking about the your dreams of going to college to actually going. Together.

Warnings: none

An: I'd kill to see how pre college Sam acted also in this readers mom and john are NOT together, they are just people who met just years after loosing their S/O

Dean left for the bar about ten minutes ago claiming that he ‘needed to get laid’ despite being only twenty years old and not yet old enough to get into a bar legally and your mom and John left a little over a day ago on a hunt that luckily didn’t call for you, Dean and Sam to tag along.

So that left you and Sam alone in the motel. Somehow John had found a place that had bedrooms in the motel two to be exact one with two twins (the boy's room) and one with a queen (your room). Which is where you currently sat doing some schoolwork that had been assigned to you by your mother. She was eager to keep you in school and by the grace of god you and your mother were able to talk John into letting Sam attend dean decided against it because he wouldn’t need it for much longer.

You groaned at the growing headache you’d started to get from staring at the workbook for too long. “You got a headache too?” The voice led you to look to see Sam’s tall frame standing in the doorway with a bottle of water. You rolled over on your back “I’ve been re-reading the same paragraph for thirty minutes” you groaned, accepting the water when he reached out to hug it to you. Sam gave you a small smile “I told you to take a break like an hour ago” he said.

You sighed “I know but I don’t have much left I just wanted to get it over with” you replied, sitting up so you wouldn’t choke while drinking the water. He looked down at your paper trying to see if he’d completed the part you were on, he hadn’t but he still offered his help. You declined “I need a break, I think my attention span has run dry,” you said. He nodded letting out a laugh, “Well what do you wanna do?” He asked. You shrugged, “Anything but that” You pointed to the pile of open workbooks and notepaper. “Wanna help me clean the guns?” He asked. You nodded, expecting that that’s what he was doing before he came into the room because John had told them two days ago to have it done by the time he was back.

The two of you sat beside working in silence disassembling the guns before Sam’s soft voice interrupted the silence. “Are you gonna go to college?” He asked suddenly. You looked up from the gun you had in your hands to Sam who kept his eyes trained on the gun he was cleaning. You thought for a second “I'd like to, more than anything.” You answered pausing “But do you think people like us get to do things like that?” You questioned.

He finally looked up from the gun in his hands and made eye contact with you, his expression was soft and his green eyes looked so vulnerable. “I think to hell with everybody else, since when do we play but the ‘hunter 101’ ruled anyway” he joked but you could tell he was deadly serious. You nodded at his statement, he was right.

The both of you had never been fully on board with the way your future was headed, hence the hours of hard work and studying. “Then yeah I'd love to go, but not by myself,” you said, hoping he’d catch the hint you were throwing at him. And he did, a blissful smile crossed his face “You wouldn’t be by yourself, we could go together, and share a dorm or apartment or whatever” he said.

Your smile matched his at the thought, sharing an apartment with Sammy sounded great but you’d rather share a room. You nodded “We could go furniture shopping and to parties. We could be normal,” you said, imagining the whole scenario. Sam agreed with a smile still plastered on his face “You’d do that with me?” He asked slowly. You looked at him completely baffled. “Sam i'd do anything with you” you confessed to him. “Even if i told you i want to be with you when it happens” he asked “even more so then” you replied with a small smile.

A little over two years later

You and Sam had left your parents and Dean a couple of hours ago. Somehow you both had been granted a full ride at Stanford and while your mom was happy about it, John had raised hell and to make a long story short he’d told you “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.” And you did. Sam drove with a clenched jaw and white knuckles, and you couldn’t keep yourself from crying. Silence filled the car as both of you registered the events that had taken place just hours ago. You didn’t know if you could live without talking to your family. Not your mom, or Dean. John… maybe. Your thoughts were interrupted when Sam grabbed your hand intertwining it with his and holding on tight. You have him a teary smile and his tense expression relaxed.

‘We’re gonna be fine’

When you arrived at Stanford you both gaped at the apartment on campus you’d been granted, you’d never lived in such a nice space. You walked further into the apartment and made eye contact with Sam who was still standing at the door and the biggest smiles crossed your faces. You let out an excited squeal running to hug him, he caught you picking you up and twirling you, making you let out a laugh.

He placed you gently back on the ground with a dopey smile locking you into his loving stare. “I can’t believe it” you muttered in disbelief looking up into his green eyes. “We did it,” he said. You were trapped, unable to look away from his eyes, and your face heated making your heartbeat rise. Since that day you and Sam talked about college you’d grown closer than friends but not yet a couple and you had yet to have your first kiss, praying that someday it’d be him, and it seems your prayers were answered when he began to lean down, playing a hand on your hip to bring you closer.

“Sam,” you said softly and you weren’t sure why. “Can I?” He breathily asked tugging you even closer if possible. You nodded not breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath on your lips as he leaned closer. When your lips connected you’d let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He hummed softly into the kiss. His lips were soft and the tip of his nose was still cold from when he was blasting the AC in the car. He pulled away from the kiss with a smile “I’m so glad I finally did that” he whispered. You laughed “I wish you’d done it sooner” you replied with a smirk. You pulled away from his warm embrace and turned back towards the living space of the apartment. “Where do we go from here?” You asked softly.

“We’ve got years to figure that out, let’s just focus on now” he answered. You smiled looking up at him. You had the man you’d dreamed about (literally) and the life you wished for and for right now that was all you needed.

[ashethecoolperson]

OUU WAIT.. can you do a dom x r where essentially they’re both in the judgement day and there tg but hide it cus they think it’ll ruin the dynamic of the group. so like HIDDEN TOUCHES, GLANCES, THE WHOLE SHEBANGHG😫

No One Will Know

A/N: This is like one of my first requests so apologies if it’s bad 😭

Dom is my favorite himbo thooo 💗

Tags: Mentions of sex, kinda sorta allusions to smut but not really, Rhea knows everything, some spanish 🤭

“Where in the hell is he?” You thought to yourself as you walked around backstage. You two had driven to the arena together, and you went to talk to Rhea for a minute, then he was just..gone.

“Dom?” You called out as you neared the dressing room. A chorus of ‘he’s not here’ rang in your ears but you continued on anyway. Dom wouldn’t just up and ditch you like this.

You walked next to a janitor’s closet when suddenly you got pulled in, pinned against the door by him.

“Did I scare you, mami?” He asked as you looked straight up at him, honestly stunned at how close his face was. His hand gently brushed away some hair from your face before moving back down to grip your waist. Your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He smiled sweetly, but it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach settle. He really wanted to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this little surprise even was.

“Why were you just..hiding in the janitor’s closet?” You asked as he started peppering kisses onto your neck, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to calm your heartbeat. It only seemed to speed up more whenever he did that.

He finally stopped kissing you and whispered, “Just wanted to surprise you, mami.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss into your jawline. When his lips met yours it left an overwhelming sensation behind. One that made you want to pull him closer and never let go again. His hands traveled lower on your body until they found their place around the base of your thighs, lifting you up and holding you flush against him.

While you two kissed, you both heard a knock, breaking the kiss as you two looked at each other and contemplated what to do. He smirked, “Maybe we should get going. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we snuck off or anything.” You blushed as he slowly placed you back on your feet. He reached forward to grab your hand and you intertwined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed by pretty quickly, then RAW started and both you and Dom were hanging out in The Judgment Day clubhouse, waiting for your segment to start.

Dom was currently on his phone while he occasionally shot glances at you. You were looking through your Instagram feed, reading the posts about Dom’s match today.

You always enjoyed getting to see what fans were thinking of your boyfriend, your Dom. It made you feel special.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him putting an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own before he spoke, “You know how I always get sweaty after my matches?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”

“Well, I could use a shower tonight so…want to join me?” He mumbled so only you could hear and gave you another smirk that made your knees weak.

You tried to play it cool as you tried comprehending what he said and why the fuck he sounded so hot saying it, before he just smirked and whispered, “Piénsalo, mami.” Before walking off.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you with one final wink before disappearing from sight.

What the fuck just happened? You thought to yourself as your mind raced to catch up with everything Dom said. You knew Dom had a dirty streak. He definitely liked to tease people, and you knew that he did that because he liked seeing them blush.

While lost in your own thoughts, Rhea approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, almost towering over you because of those big ass platform boots she always wore.

“What’d Dom say?” She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as she looked at you expectantly. You blinked a couple times before answering. “Oh y’know, just shit about how he’d win and all that.” You lied, and Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” You felt stupid for lying to her. She was your best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean you could tell her everything.

“No reason, just wondering why I heard stuff in you two’s dressing room last week.” She said with a shrug, and you immediately blushed and scrambled for a reply, knowing damn well what you two were doing. After you caught your breath, you said, “Oh, uh he was just talking to me about some stuff, you know, personal stuff.” You lied, (again), and Rhea nodded with a scoff.

“Personal stuff? So why was he saying ‘oh fuck, right there mami’?” Rhea asked again, sporting a smirk as your face was flushed. She heard?! Well, shit.

“Don’t worry,” She laughed as if she sensed your panic, “I won’t tell anybody.” You let out a sigh and relaxed a bit, smiling at her. “Thanks..” You trailed off, still unsure of what else you could say without being too obvious about how embarrassing this even was.

“No problem. But don’t fuck in my dressing room, please. I like having a clean room.” You chuckled nervously and nodded, thanking her before walking towards the monitors to watch Dom’s match.

While he was doing pretty good (still paired with that fucking bobblehead, you hated that guy) he kept doing moves that made you wince or go ‘damn’, knowing full well that he’d be okay.

Obviously they lost because of JD, but Dom didn’t care as he just went over towards you, smiling as he looked down at you.

“Did I do good?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.

“Yeah, but you keep scaring me with those big ass flying moves. You’re gonna bust your face open one day cause of that.” You said as you crossed your arms, and he pouted like a child before rolling his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before you smirked, looking at him as you fiddled with those shirts he wore around his waist.

“Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready for that shower now..”

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

[marigoldenblooms]

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 2

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Non-consensual touching (arms/shoulders), slight transformation description, threatening, mentions of pain (burning), intimidation tactics, arguments, manipulation, angst, canon-level violence, mentions of scarring/burnt skin, restraint, we're finally leaving Belmoor y'all

A/N: Holy crap y'all, thanks for the incredible responses on everything once again! We finally get some trio dialogue going in this chapter ^^ Natasha’s interrogation is based within Latin, while R’s occasional text is built primarily within greek. Russian is also here, as expected. I had nothing for Smut Saturday, so I hope lore will suffice ^^' We will see if the writing block ceases, lol

Equally, we’ve got a Unica tag list coming along! Let me know if you’d like to be added to it! 

Word count: 3.9k - Read Length: 14 minutes, 29 seconds. ~~~

You’d never dreamt awake before. 

You could feel your mind faintly, cognition ghostly as you’d blink within your own head. Your transformation’s destruction was never something you were aware of until you rose out of it, covered in viscera from your form’s hunt. Was it really your body, after that? As you’d drift hazily in a river of your own thoughts, you couldn’t separate feathers from skin. You and your monster were one in the same.

You’d try to shut your eyes again, fall back into the painless slumber your molt offered. A part of you knew the horror you’d awake to- perhaps your succession had slaughtered them all, friend and foe alike. You would grieve her as you had the others, the fiery healer with her crimson magic. The knight would become a cliff note to your psyche, a tack onto an endless tally-board. You were used to being hunted. 

It’d be minutes before you realized you weren’t alone. 

Gaze snapping upwards, you’d bare your teeth towards the intruder which marred your thoughts, only to find a translucent figure. You could feel her chill from here, Her feathered speckling like a shawl over her shoulders, the wings behind her blanketing into a beautiful frame. She reached a hand towards you, although her smile was too thin to be kind. She didn’t look much different than she’d appeared days prior within your dreams yet again. The Aegyptius creation deity. Why was she here?

You didn’t shy from her gaze, looking at her with both respect and provocation. She was in your mind, fragmented as it was while your body rampaged elsewhere. If there was anywhere you were dominion of, it was this. “I know who you are now, Matron,” you’d assure, your voice echoing in the dim expanse, rippling along the water of your thoughts. She seemed to catch your words, and her grin grew wider, eyes narrowing. She’d tut, and in a second you could feel her cold, mist-like hands on your shoulders, “I expect something more reverent from my martyr..but you will learn.” 

“Martyr?” Your expression grew sour as she wouldn’t elaborate, toying with your frustration as she’d run her palms down your arms. An uncomfortable shiver would brace through your body, and you could feel your form stretch beneath as if her touch spurred your transformation all over again. She was cruel, a pained sigh leaving you as your teeth would clench. 

Her grasp on you would tighten, feeling the brittleness of pin feathers beneath flesh, “Your mind may not remember, fledgeling…but all my creations know my whims. And yet you wish to rid yourself of me?” Her laugh would be musical, but the bite in her tone was awash with rage, thinly veiled as the Matron stalked circles around you. 

The frustration that had flowed through you prior to your molt was flimsy now, embers against a cold snap. You felt your gut sink, fear bubbling thickly in your throat. You’d stopped looking at her by now, your gaze piercing down into nothingness. All you could manage was a pitiful nod, and you couldn’t tell if her snicker was anger from your lackluster response or joy from how compliant she’d rendered you. They were one in the same with your kind, you supposed. 

“You cannot..although I’m certain you’ve already understood that.” She’d pause in front of your face, ghostly touch icy as she’d claw your chin to meet your gaze with hers. Her phrase would come quickly, as if she was excited to utter it, “And for penance…you must kill that witch.”

“What?” They weren’t dead already? Your molt would’ve torn her to shreds by now. What was happening in the waking world? Even within a dream, the thought of murdering another with your conscious mind churned your stomach, especially one that brought you food. Mercy. “Command my body to do it, then-”  

“No. You must do this as human,” Her smile was dagger-thin now, and you swear sparks flashed from her maw when she spoke. “Not as bird. Your hunger will be your guide.” Her hands would cradle your face now, the chill of her spectral palms almost forgotten as your mind would rush and lurch. You could feel the knaw of famine in your gut, a terrible feeling, all too real. 

“I reject this- she has been kind, I-” The Matron would’ve disappeared immediately, the thawing of your flesh the only reminder.  Your plea would be met with silence, hyperventilation coaxing your heart into overdrive. Thudding in your skull, you could almost feel the weight of bone in your jaws, your throat suddenly parched. You’d rasp, drawing your hands close to cradle yourself as the world grew fuzzy and vague, “I don’t want to be a monster..”

“Oh, my martyr..” She’d murmur, her voice suddenly swirling along the shell of your ear, freezing your hunch in place. 

“That’s what I made you for.”

Your mind would swim, lucidity and unconsciousness blending into tar which filled your brain. You’d blink, heavier than before..and just before you’d wake, you’d feel her touch on your shoulder again. 

“Survivε, mυ μάρτυρας..” 

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

You’d regain your mind halfway through it all. Your body ached and tore within you, the subtle itch of plumage molting from your skin a feeling you couldn’t soothe. You were in the barn. 

Your arms were held back as you’d kneel on the floor, a searing heat plaguing your wrists as you’d fight against its hold- your chains. They’d manage to cage you. If you hadn’t been in so much pain, you would’ve wheezed relief at that. Your tongue was dry, the taste of blood and bone absent on your lips. You hadn’t eaten anyone during your transformation, and yet your body twinged with agony all the more for it. You had no fuel to offer you shifting body, and so it ate you from the inside to power your return to being humanoid. Panting a low whine, spasms would twitch your form as your bones would grow heavier within your flesh, solid all the way through. Even through your strain, a quiet shuffle would draw your eyes immediately- your heightened instincts were always the last things to go. In the recluses of the barn stood your prior attacker, although her attention was focused elsewhere, ghosting over something in the palm of her gloved hand. Thank fuck.

It was only now you could get a good look at her. Her hair was auburn, braided sharply in cascading strands which met the nape of her neck. It had been chilled near its ends, pale and almost wispy, as though something had leached the color from it. Sorcery? Stress? You couldn’t tell at first glance, but the perpetual scoff that seemed to mold into her face signaled the latter. 

Blueish gray irises stared into what she held, and it was only when you growled a restrained snarl at the sight did her eyes lock to yours. She was holding one of your shorn feathers, the visage making your hackles raise. You wouldn’t shy from her gaze as you had with Wanda, even raising your chin higher so you looked down at her with pinprick pupils- you were an adversary. A challenger. You didn’t fear her. Your head throbbed, the heavy burn of your engraved chains a constant reminder. 

She’d approach you with malice- unsurprising given your circumstances, but the prick of a metal blade against your neck was a little more shocking. This early? Damn. You’d grit your teeth but remain steadfast, even as she’d glower over you. 

“Ossifraga, dic omnia quae scis.” She’d spit, her words foreign yet familiar in your ears. ‘omia’ was a word you gleamed in an instant - ‘everything’, yet the rest was butchered in her mouth. You’d bare your teeth at her, grin sickeningly raw even as she’d press her knife’s edge to your nape. “Dic mihi omnia Fraga, ne te interficiam sicut columbam-“ 

Her anger would shatter at the creaking barn door, flinching just as you did. At least one similarity between the two of you. A familiar soothing tone would echo to you, honeyed and thick, albeit strangled from…anger. Anger? 

“I leave you for one second, you глупый козел-“ Wanda muttered harshly, her stomping footfalls sharply rattling in your skull. She’d pluck the knight’s hand away from you, grip harsh as she’d try to wrestle away their weapon- futile, as their shock to Wanda’s insult only lasted so long. From your attacker’s reaction, it seemed they shared a language. Interesting. “And here you are, nicking my patient-“ 

You’d struggle at Wanda’s words, trying to show her your discomfort. Your wrists continued to burn, and you swear their imprint would be branded on your skin if they weren’t taken off soon. And yet, it may be safer if you remain chained. The Matron’s words still throbbed in your ears, a blinding sight locking your gaze onto Wanda before you bit it back down. You’d breathe, ragged, before gasping a sound which seemed to catch her attention. Her nimble fingers would move to start unshackling you, before being caught by Natasha’s rough grip, pulling her immediately back, “What are you doing-!? It’ll kill you-“

“I won’t harm…her..-“ You’d hiss, finding your bearings as your larynx would thrum with your voice again. You’d glare at the hunter, voice steadfast even through your pain, “You’re- a different story, knight..let me go, and maybe I’ll consider.”

You saw her jaw flex at your tone, malice seeping from every beat of her heart. She’d release Wanda with a tight-lipped grumble, your wrists losing their binds seconds later. You’d rub at the tender flesh for a split second, gasping and hiding away as it’d still bubble with scorching heat. You were too late, and soon your wrists would scar over. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad next time, perhaps.

You’d sit up, movements sluggish as you’d sync again with a heavier frame. Your glance would be wary, looking to Wanda as if the knight wasn’t there. You saw annoyance flash across the hunter’s expression, and satisfaction bloomed in yours. Let her be upset. “What happened..? You shackled me, I am thankful for it.”

“And yet your wrists don’t look happy..” Wanda would respond with muffled concern, although you’d retreat from her scarlet magic’s attempt to heal- scars proved you had lived, this one above all. This one showed you could trust the healer to protect you when you couldn’t protect her. The slow rumble of starvation proved you wouldn’t be able to protect her for a long time. She’d sigh, but wouldn’t press further. “You’ve been in the barn for three days, we put you here on the evening of the first-“ 

Your expression faltering would quiet her words, a shaky inhale slicing into the room’s air. Three days. “I’ve never been..” you’d grip your hair as you spoke, bending to pull more of you closer. You’d stare at your shorn feathers, brilliant white where they lay unheated, almost ghostly in the thin light of Wanda’s shed. 

“I’ve never been transformed for that long.”

“And why should we believe you? You could feather again as we speak- kill us all.” The knight would glare at you, though there was a chance she never stopped, boring a hole into your skull which you gladly challenged. You’d bark a laugh, the sound uncomfortable in your raw chest and yet you reveled in how she flinched away. The air grew thick and still, “If you hunt my kind with that attitude, you obviously know nothing of the Aegyptius.”

“Then enlighten me, Fraga-”” She said that like an insult to you, and yet it didn’t register. 

  “And why the hell should I-?”

 “Because we have a common goal, you dolts-“ 

At Wanda’s interjection, your voice would sliver and slip away, her face red and scrunched with frustration. It was almost adorable how her nostrils flared with her words, yet the rage in her eyes was something that stirred sorrow inside you. Something clicked in the back of your mind, memories from your brood when you were young, and yet nothing registered in the fog of retorting anger. There was curiosity on the hunter’s face, shoulders squared back at Wanda’s tone, and yet your mind still held what the knight had said before.

“What did you call me?” Your words stumbled as you’d shift to stand, legs frail under the weight of yourself. You wouldn’t see the knight’s bewildered expression until much later, too busy keeping your feet underneath you, “Fraga…do you not even know what you are?” “Enlighten me,” you’d taunt, clipped thin between your barred teeth. Wanda would scoff, shaking her head in your peripheral.

“You are Ossifraga. Bone-breaker, the unclean bird..” Your eyes would narrow, but not in the way the hunter wanted, it seems. These names meant nothing to you. “A mistake upon your feathered kind. A blight-'' Her words would build in strength, low as she’d stalk dangerous steps towards you. You looked towards Wanda, her hands slowly raising as scarlet magic grew to weave around her fingers.

“Others of your kind can be minstrels, songbirds or doves- even raptors can experience valor as warriors…but you, Fraga, are the mutated husk of your false god.” She spit her tone with vitriol, acidic. The receding down on the back of your neck rose as your blood ran cold- Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, a lump swelling in your throat, but it wasn’t all fear. There was something else, a chill unfamiliar to your waking form, coaxing your mouth open. You resisted, even your back reached the worn wood of the barn’s walls and the knight’s voice swarmed back into focus. 

 “A dangerous monster, consuming the bones of innocents and leaving plague in your wake,” A gleaming metal shone near her wrist, and your stomach dropped all too late. The knife was probably sacred, intricately carved with markings you could hardly make out in the blur of motion, her gloved hand grasping your shoulder while the other swung to pierce your stomach. 

“You’re the infection I must quell-” 

Your maw opened before you could think.  

“Αμολάω-!” You’d shriek, your voice hissing with the inflection of many. You heard the clatter of metal on the ground as your tone echoed forth. The knight would barrel backwards, clutching her head as Wanda flinched behind her, the shockwave of your words hitting her fainter the further it went from your mouth. 

You kicked away the knight’s dropped blade, another command echoing from you, your tone no longer your own, cold and bitter on your tongue, “Γονατίστε, παράσιτα- Θα σε καταβροχθίσω χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη..”

The hunter sunk to her knees before your sentence had finished. You’d gasp a second later,  your lungs filled with air as though they’d never have before. Blinking, you’d feel a tenseness in your body, arms trailing with thin plumage which quickly sunk beneath your skin. You’d watch it leave with a cold numbing shock, jaw slung open with a heavy breath. Your thoughts translated your foreign words after a few moments, ‘Let go. Kneel, vermin. I will devour you without a second thought.’

Your feathers had never grown beyond your molt, confined to the hellish day a month where you were no longer yourself. Your hands tremored, ghosting over the goosebumps that had been left behind. It’s like the feathers had never been there- and yet you could feel your body creak and crunch, as though impatient.  

The hunter stood a few seconds later, gait slow as she’d physically wrench herself from your command’s thrall. She’d brush at her scuffed armor, plagued with the barn’s dirt which clung to the metal, “I know what you’re saying. Your pronunciation is weaker, and yet it is still-” 

“The language of my kind,” You’d mutter without sympathy, scoffing as the knight seemed to take offense to your interruption. “You’ve stripped it of its history..it's what you spoke before.” You’d never learned your own tongue, and yet half your thoughts spoke in it now. A shiver rolled down your spine, a cascading chill that felt like an awaiting grasp. 

“Ah, so it can listen..” She’d sneer, glance harsh as she’d eye her forlorn blade again. Wanda’s interjection would be seen before it was heard, scarlet magic weaving around the hilt before daintily grasping it, pawing it over to her awaiting palm. “And so must you, Romanova..” The way she curved the words had a sense of familiarity, drawing a frustrated huff from the other woman. You’d narrow your eyes, but it wasn’t your turn to speak anymore, “You both listen, or you leave my barn with nothing but a death wish. Am I clear?”

You’d nod slowly, and by Wanda’s sigh, you assumed the knight did the same. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere cozier, shall we?”

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

Wanda’s home would’ve been just as comfortable as it had been the prior evening, albeit more cramped. Between three people in the living room, a thin glow of red magic seeping through the slats of wood that boarded the kitchen up, and the deadly eye contact you and the knight shot at each other every second, the air was never thicker.

“And you tore through the kitchen wall,” Wanda’s words were analytical, the gnawing feeling of guilt settling heavy in your gut. You kept your distance from her, a pang of hunger grinding into your thoughts the second you grew closer to the witch. You chewed at the inside of your lip as her palm waved towards the construction her sorcery partook in. Her shrug was too easy, “Not afraid of remodeling, after Romanova mistook my window for a door-” 

She’d almost bite towards the hunter, a simmering scoff laced between her accented tone. “Is that your name? ‘Romanova’?” The knight would leer at your question, slinging her arm against the heavy metal of her armor. From Wanda’s scoff, it seems she’d gotten the same reaction while you were out. “You butcher my family title, Fraga-” 

“Give me your name and I won’t have to.” You’d raise a brow as her eyes locked to yours, your breath thin and still. You felt the cold in your throat again, creeping like a retch up your windpipe- yet you swallowed it with huskier words, “Since we’re all in the sharing mood. Aren’t we?”

Her sigh was almost palpable, hissing in a low breath, “I am Natasha Alianovna Romanova. Templar of Latrodectus, it’s esteemed widow.” That title meant nothing to you, although your unfitting reaction seemed to knock her down a few pegs. Her reply was less angry than curious, “Did you ever earn a name, Fraga?”

“Earn?” Your snort brought an angry heat to Natasha’s face, perplexed laughter ricocheting through your solid skeleton, “You really do know nothing of my kind. We do not remember names. Unimportant.”

You wouldn’t see Wanda’s furrowed look until she exhaled sharply, looking away from you with crossed arms. Your mind sunk and crackled whenever you looked in her direction, suddenly parched. The flutter in your stomach remained, bringing an uncomfortable nausea rather than burst of curiosity. You kept your eyes on Natasha, expression hollowed, “Why do either of you stay? This..is your house, Wanda, I know-” 

“Because we want to help you-” “She does- mhph-” Wanda’s hand would outstretch towards Natasha, blocking her mouth with a wispy scarlet sheen. You looked at Wanda’s shadow, feeling her sigh as your gaze never met hers. Her voice was calmer yet thin, strained between forces, “Do you want to rid yourself of your feathers?”

“Yes,” Your quick response earned an unseen smile from the witch, although your skin grew clammy at the thought. Natasha shuffled, and when you met her eyes you saw hers were raised, almost in shock, her mouth still clasped closed. “Then we have a common interest. This one can find a method beyond violence- and if your transformation is progressing faster, then it is my role to bring you back to normalcy.” 

You’d meet her glance now, her smile radiating a warmth into you that culled away some of the chill, satiated you. Your palms felt your own, awkwardly poised as you offered your hold to the witch, her touch filling you with an unfamiliar satisfaction. You shook her hand against yours, ignoring Natasha’s silent indignation burning into your skull. Perhaps you could control yourself- you could protect each other, “Thank you, Wanda.” 

“Ah, none of that- you are a medicinal marvel..” She’d tease, your thanks rolling right off of her. You met her grin with your own, her words shushing as she’d lean to you, “Think of what it will do for my prices, to heal an Ossifraga-” 

Your laugh was a startling welcome, filling you with mirth as it was returned. “I will pay you then. How many feathers-?” Her hand patted yours before receding, wiping her palm along her clothed side. “...I’ll keep a running tab for you, Птичка.”

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

The sun had risen into midday, and you basked in its sunlight. Your shoulders felt tense as you hauled supplies towards the wagon Wanda and Natasha had acquired an hour ago from Belmoor proper. You’d hung back, admiring the hazy scarlet tendrils which packed Wanda’s belongings. The two had found you handing random objects to the sorcerous helpers when they returned, although Natasha was pulled away by the witch before she could crow about the non-essentiality of bringing Wanda’s butter churn. 

The mule that was attached to the wagon- Daisy, Doris, something like that- had been chewing on the turf as you’d settled another crate of rations along the wagon’s bed, pushing it into place with a heavy shove. It was a ten days road travel to Arkridge, the capital of this province, as you’d been told. Its libraries held what could be the first of many secrets. The forest never spoke of it, yet its grandeur was palpable even through Natasha’s gruff words. She hadn’t tried to stab you again, although her glare was seething whenever you met it. 

You passed each other by as you’d return towards the house, huffing an unimpressed groan as her haul was much smaller than yours. She’d abandoned her armor for now, and you watched as the musculature of her back shifted as she’d set her barrel down. You could take her if you had to, even without your strength- though the scabbard along her back gave you pause, the longsword’s hilt gleaming in the light. It had been engraved, similar to the leather sheath that bound it, and you’d guess it was the same inscription. Runic and familiar, it brought your thought to your chains, their markings similar yet worn. Perhaps you’d find a way to ask about it, if you could have a conversation without insulting each other.

Your side met Wanda’s as you leaned in her vicinity, your gaze locked onto the knight a dozen meters away. The witch’s voice was smoothed and sweet, honey-like as she’d offer her palm to yours again, inspecting the scarring along your skin as you’d accept. “Your name isn’t Margo, is it?” 

You shook your head, still in her embrace, “No. I just needed something to give to you. Satisfy..”

Your words petered out into silence, her squeeze of your hand gentle, shying away from the raw flesh of your wrists. “You don’t have to do that, Ласточка. I have countless things to call you that you won’t forget.” Her wink made your face flush, shying away from her gaze as her tone wrapped around your thoughts. Her giggle wasn’t lost on you, a fondness in her expression you couldn’t decipher. “Will you tell me what that means?”

She’d shake her head, just before you heard Natasha’s heavy footfalls towards you. The forested grove retreated behind as you three would set forth a few minutes later, silence thick. Bellmoor would be forgotten, in favor of new memories. Perhaps your first night at camp would be more riveting. 

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Tag List: @mousetheorist

[justmystyles]

literally just came up with this so suddenly but imagine plusiszereader being like an old member of the band or something. like she was apart of the love band back in 2021 but left just to do her own stuff BUT her and harry have been in a relationship since then. it’s obvi private but fans like absolutely love and miss her. then, for the final show when harry is doing the 10 minute ballad she comes out as one of the flute players for one last show and people just going nuts.

then at the end just a shit ton of love dovey stuff like them both crying and comforting each other cause its the final show.

OH LORD IM DELULU YALL

Heart Song

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 1.7k

summary: as a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.

a/n: this was such a cute ask, thank you so much for sending it! this is the last final show fic i have planned for the time being. who knows what the future holds? i'm trying to catch up on asks, so if you're waiting on one that you've sent in, keep an eye out!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You sit on the piano bench beside your boyfriend, at a complete loss for words at the song he just played for you. He had been so excited to show you what he was working on, he said that it was a song for his fans, that he wanted to play it for them at his last Love on Tour show.  

“Is it… do you like it?” He asked tentatively. 

“Baby, it’s so beautiful. No words?” He shook his head. “It’s perfect.” 

He grins, his dimples making your heart melt. “Well, almost.” You give him a curious look. “It could use some accompaniment, perhaps a flute?” He said with a wink. 

“Who, me?” Harry laughs at your reaction. “But I haven’t been in your band for a year and a half.”

He takes your hand in his. “And I’ve missed you every show. So have the rest of the band, and the fans too.” 

“I don’t know, Harry.” 

“Please, baby?” He pleaded. “This has been such a huge tour for me. For us. We fell in love on this tour, it would mean the world to me if you were by my side when it was ending.” 

Your expression softened at his words, he was right. You had been hired to play in his band, and got so much more than you bargained for when the two of you fell for each other. You fell hard and fast, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Love on Tour. You had only signed on temporarily, leaving to pursue some solo work. Just because you said goodbye to the tour, didn’t mean you were saying goodbye to Harry. The two of you maintained your relationship, keeping it out of the public eye, allowing Harry a modicum of privacy.  

You let out a sarcastic sigh. “Well, I suppose I am going to be there anyway. I was looking forward to just being an audience member, but I guess I could pop onstage for a few minutes.” 

Harry threw his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. “I love you so much, thank you thank you thank you!” 

After finishing Fine Line, Harry retreated to the backstage area to prepare for the encore. This was your cue to head back there yourself to prepare for his final song. Before you head into the changing area, you rush over to the wings, hoping to catch him before he goes back onstage. 

You finally see him, he’s pacing, clearly trying to compose himself. You pause for a moment, debating whether or not you want to bother him, but when his eyes lock on yours you feel drawn to him like a magnet. 

“How are you holding up?” You ask, brushing a loose curl out of his face. 

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “It’s almost over.” 

“I know baby,” you place your hand on his cheek, stroking gently. “You’ve still got a few more songs, go out there and give it everything you’ve got.” 

“You’re still coming on for the finale?” He asks hopefully. 

“It’s why I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m gonna run and go change real quick.” 

“If I send someone to get your jumpsuit for you, do you think you could just throw it on here?” He pleads. “I need you close while I’m out there. You make me stronger.” 

You smile softly, placing your lips against his in a soft kiss. “Whatever you need, Harry, always.” 

He smiles gratefully, kissing you once more before running up to one of the production assistants, and instructing him to get your outfit and flute from his dressing room. He returns to you, taking your hands in his. “It’ll be here in a second. Thank you, my love.”

“Nothing to thank,” you say plainly. “Nowhere I’d rather be. Now get out there and knock ‘em dead.” 

He brought your hands to his lips, kissing the backs of them, and headed back onstage. You followed as far as you could without being seen so that you could watch his final few songs. You looked on proudly as he gave his all. 

You loved this man with all your heart but more than that, as a musician you admired him more than anything. His dedication to his craft, and his fans, was unwavering. Time and time again he would give himself to everyone, first with the heartfelt music he would write; and then dedicating nearly two years of his life to traveling the world in an effort to bring that music to his fans. 

The PA that Harry had sent to retrieve your things promptly returned, handing you your things. You thanked him quickly, not wanting to take your eyes off of Harry. You slip your jumpsuit on over your clothes, and change into the custom Love on Tour adidas sneakers that had been made for the band. 

Kiwi ended, and Harry waved and bowed to the crowd before running offstage and immediately into your arms. 

“You were amazing, Harry. I’m so proud of you.” You whisper to him. You feel him nod against your neck in reply. 

You allow him a few more moments of comfort before you know you need to set yourself on stage. The band had stayed out there, getting position for this final song. “Baby?” You ask softly, getting his attention as you step back from your embrace. “I’ve gotta get out there, you going to be okay?” 

Harry nods, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “You’ll be close, yeah?” 

You smile at him, placing a comforting hand on his cheek. “Right next to the piano.” You give him one last kiss and make your way to the stage. 

You step out, smiling and nodding at your former bandmates, hearing the whispers and questions from the crowd start to pick up.

“Is that Y/N?”

“He must have asked her to come back for the last show.” 

“But why is she only coming out now?” 

The murmurs quickly turn to cheers when they realize that it is in fact you on stage. This meant that whatever was about to happen was definitely going to be something big. As you waited for Harry to re-emerge, you looked out over the crowd. You had been in the thick of it during the show, but seeing it from the stage was an entirely different experience. 

As you were admiring the hordes of people who had come out just to see Harry, you were pulled from your thoughts by an eruption from the crowd. You looked to your left and watched Harry return to stage, quickly wiping away the remnants of the tears he had shed backstage. 

He took a seat at the piano, looking up at you. When you looked back, you saw a storm of emotions, but mostly you saw vulnerability. Harry was never one to shy away from expressing emotions onstage, but this was different. 

He spoke a few quick words in Italian before moving the microphone away and beginning to play. You had heard him play this song so many times since he had initially brought it to you a few weeks ago, but hearing it like this, as he intended it to be, was an unreal, once in a lifetime experience. The crowd of over one hundred thousand people were completely silent, everyone’s attention directed at Harry. 

You felt a nudge, and your attention quickly turned to your right. You saw the rest of the band preparing to come in, and you remembered that you were there to do a job. Your time just being the supportive girlfriend was on pause, you had to be a musician now. You lifted your flute to your lips, and joined in, your eyes never leaving Harry. 

Before long, the last note was played, and Harry stood from the piano. The crowd burst into cheers and applause like you’d never heard before. He bowed to the crowd before turning to face the band, mostly to express his gratitude to them, but you knew it was also a chance for him to compose himself. 

His eyes locked on you, and he immediately started moving in your direction, wrapping you in his arms. You returned the embrace, rubbing soothing circles over the bejeweled fringe on his back. 

“You did amazing, Harry.” You tell him. “This is all for you, go take it in. You deserve it.” 

He pulls back and gives you a tearful smile before taking your hand and walking to the center of the stage, signaling for everyone else to join. The group takes a bow to thunderous applause. As you all stand, Harry steps forward, drinking in every second of the fanfare. He moved to either end of the stage, thanking the fans by waving and blowing kisses. When he returns to center stage, he pauses again this time dropping to his knees, his hands covering his face. Completely overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment. 

Even though the band is sharing their own moment, hugging and congratulating each other, you are frozen in place, eyes locked on Harry. You were so focused on him that you didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face. 

When he finally stood, he gave the crowd one more smile and wave before turning to exit the stage. As soon as he turned around, he saw you and smiled walking straight for you. You both moved at the same time, cupping each other’s faces in your hands wiping the other’s tears away with your thumbs. Chuckling at the synchronized movements. 

You pulled him into your arms, and his face immediately nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the moisture from the new tears dropping onto your skin. 

“I’m so proud of you, Harry.” You coo. “It couldn’t have gone any better.” 

He pulled back to look at you. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Nowhere I’d rather be.” You state plainly. He smiles and starts leaning in toward your lips. You jerk back quickly. “Baby, we’re still onstage.” 

“Don’t care,” he leans back in, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss. 

You pull away with a smile. “Ready?” 

He nodded silently, stepping out of your embrace and turning to the crowd one last time to blow them a final farewell kiss. He then took your hand and led you off the stage and into your new post-tour life.