#ugh. this got long

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[aleikats]

🔸earring exchange 🔸

[zel-zo]

"You are the God I Made"

---

Here's final act bird boy because I don't think just the princess should have a sick ass final boss form. Also if you know where I got the whole "wings have eyes and each represents one of the voices and they can speak to him" thing, uh, *throws smoke bomb*

[littlesunnysun]

hello hello!

First post and it's a liltle tinni fanart of Slate ( character of @bonus-links) :3c

I love their comics and how they portrait Links from the different zelda games, I find it so interesting and original while the story is so??? I don't have words to describe my love for it--

I hope ya'll like it :D

[chronurgy]

Idk man thinking about Caleb and Astrid and breakdowns. How the one time we see her have a breakdown it's so neat and quiet and private in contrast to Caleb's messy, public, even violent breakdowns. Do you think she looks down on him for not being able to control it? Do you think she resents him because Trent still wants him back even after all of it and she could never get away with something like that (does the specter of the hysterical woman keep her up at night)? Does she envy him because that's what freed him? And does that just cause the resentment to pile even higher because she could never allow herself to fall to pieces like that? Because someone has to stay in control. Someone has to keep it together.

[ohbo-ohno]

loneliness and fallen woman with price please! happy 1000 followers ❤️

1k game here - no more please!

alright anon. i gotta be real with you, i barely used the prompts you gave and for that i really am sorry. i wrote like 1k of this about three different times because they kept just not being quite right, and they got increasingly further and further from the prompts. sorry!

2.6k of reader x local crime kingpin price. no smut! (the background plot and "worldbuilding" here is really weak, but just ignore it lol)

You know you’re doing something stupid, but that seems to be all you’re capable of these days. The last few weeks have been nothing but stipid decision after stupid decision, your absolute stupidest decision leading you to this exact moment.

You should’ve never slept with John Price. You should’ve known, should’ve recognized his face, but you’d been a little tipsy and a little desperate, and hadn’t connected the very common name John with the very well known criminal John Price. 

No, that had come the next morning, when you’d woken up before him and been able to really take a look at him, completely sober. Him and the gun in its holster resting on his folded pile of clothes.

You should’ve recognized him long before then, and you should’ve turned tail and run. You shouldn’t have let him buy you a drink, you shouldn’t have let him coax you into dumping all your troubles onto him, and you certainly shouldn’t have slept with him. 

You’d left before he could wake up and say God knows what, fear pumping through your veins at the realization of who you’d slept with. You’d nearly knocked yourself out trying to get dressed, almost fallen on top of him before you managed to stumble out of the hotel room he’d bought for you.

Everyone knows John Price. No one ever really bothers to detail why he’s dangerous, but they all seem confident he is. You’re a recent transfer to the area, and you still haven’t been able to get anyone to really say why they always whisper when they say his name.

What you do know about him is that every few weeks, almost routinely, you hear that he’s been arrested. Then two or three days later, like clockwork, it’s announced that he’s escaped, always thought to be “armed and dangerous”. His mugshots are shown on TV enough that it’s truly surprising you hadn’t recognized him at the bar. 

You always figured you’d never run into him. You don’t exactly lead a life of crime, don’t exaclty put yourself in harm’s way. You work a boring nine to five job, have dinner with friends every couple weeks, occasionally meet up with someone from a dating app, and never really stray from that. Had he not happened to be in the same bar as you, you never would’ve met him, never would’ve slept with him, and never would’ve been hunting him down now, weeks later.

Hell, you might not have even slept with him had you not just been stood up by what was supposed to be a first date on the same day you’d lost out on a promotion. But a few shots, that loneliness that grows more and more familiar every day, a simmering frustration in your career, and a handsome man are not a good combination for your self control. 

But you had slept with him, had been especially stupid and not even worn protection - something you’d only really noticed the next morning, when you felt… him still leaking from you, saw that there was no condom wrapper.

And now here you are - stood in that same run down bar you’d first met him in, wearing an old hoodie and your favorite sweatpants, three positive pregnancy tests tucked in your front pocket.

You try to take a deep breath.

You really don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve been running on autopilot since you realized you might be pregnant, the time between buying tests and taking them a blur. Even now, you’re running on instinct alone. Instinct tells you to find John Price, and tell him about… this.

You can figure everything else out after. 

You scan the crowd, hoping to spot him quickly. You know he owns the bar - something you’d found out once you’d gotten home and fallen deep into a rabbit hole and read everything about the man you could find. You’re not sure how he still owns the bar considering he’s got multiple warrants out for his arrest, but you figure it’s probably the same reason he never actually ends up in jail.

But he’s not here now. At least, not anywhere you can see.

You step up to the bar, rest your elbows on the counter and rest your head in your hands, taking a few long, stablizing breaths.

“What can I get for ye?”

You glance up at the sudden voice, coming face to face with the bartender. It’s not the same man as last time - this man’s got a Scottish accent and a mohawk, a far cry from the darker skinned British man with pretty eyes who’d served you last time.

“Do you…” you glance around again, sigh, and decide you should try and find somewhere to compose yourself a bit. “Do you guys have a bathroom I could use?”

“Course,” he smiles at you, open and friendly, and you feel some of the tension ease from your shoulders. “Just ‘round that corner there, a few doors down. Can’t miss it.”

You give him a tight smile, mutter your thanks as you head in the direction he’d gestured. His directions are exactly right, the women’s bathroom door towards the end of the hallway but clearly marked.

Just past the bathroom doors is a stairwell. The door is half open, but you can clearly see the stairs even halfway down the hallway. You’re not sure why, but you walk right past the bathrooms, ducking into the stairwell instead after shooting a quick look over your shoulder to make sure no one saw you. 

It’s nearly silent, the music from the bar growing more and more muffled as you start to make your way to the next floor. It’s even quieter once you reach your destination, just a distant and faint rumbling in the floorboards.

You step out into a hallway with four doors - two of them with nameplates nailed to them. Stepping close, you see one is labeled Simon Riley and the other reads John Price.

Before you can consider whether or not you’re making another stupid decision you’re knocking on the door with Price’s name. 

You regret it the moment your knuckles rap against the wood, can’t believe you keep doing such stupid things without thinking.

Before you can even get a step away from the door, there’s a voice calling out from inside the room.

“Come in.”

Your breath hitches. 

You can’t leave now. There’s no way he wouldn’t come to the door, see who knocked. You’re not about to ding dong ditch John Price, but that doesn’t make it any easier to move forward. You only manage it because you feel oddly exposed in the hallway, and your nerves urge you forward enough to open the door.

You shut it quickly behind you, eager for privacy for some reason you can’t quite pin down. Listening to your instincts regardless, you keep your back pressed to the closed door and shove one hand in your pocket to wrap around the pregnancy tests.

John looks… mostly the same, which only makes you feel even more foolish for not recognizing him on the night that started this whole mess.

His beard’s a bit longer, but he’s got a button up and that silly hat on, the same thing he’d been wearing the first night you saw him. It’s almost like you’re yanked back to that night without warning, the only real difference being the fact that he’s sat behind a desk instead of beside you.

“Oh,” he says, looking oddly unsurprised as he leans back in his chair, hands lacing over his stomach. “It’s you. My little runaway.”

You scowl, your trepidation immediately replaced with anger. 

“First of all,” you hiss, scowling and moving towards his desk, the twitch at the corner of his lips only working you up further. “I’m not your anything. And I didn’t run away.”

His lips curve into a fuller smile, and he shifts his chair back enough for you to see his thighs, thick and bulging against his tight pants. He’s manspreading in his own office chair, and you have to swallow thickly when you realize just how attractive it is.

When you glance back to his face and see the distinctly smug expression he’s wearing, your ire only grows.

“Not sure what else you’d call it,” he rumbles. “Was hoping to spend a little more time with you, love, but you were gone before we could set up a date.”

You instinctively go to bite back, but stumble a bit when what he’d said settles. The idea that he’d been disappointed when he woke up alone, that he wanted more time with you…

You shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter, you have more important things to discuss.

You force yourself to straighten, fingers toying with the tests in your pocket. Your nerves return now that you’re really face to face with John again, now that you’ve got to actually figure out how to tell him. 

He seems to sense the shift in your mood, leaning forward so he’s not sprawled out so casually and resting his forearms on his desk.

“Why’re you here, love?”

This is it, you think to yourself, closing your eyes to take a deep, stablizing breath.

You tug the pregnancy tests out of your pocket, drop them wordlessly in front of him. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, to watch his expression as he slowly looks down at your offering, watch as realization washes over him.

John’s silent for a long moment. Your palms sweat, and you just barely resist the urge to wipe them off on your pants.

Finally, he looks back up at you, shifting in his chair. “You’re sure?”

You hesitate, nod a bit. “There are… I took more, at home. Didn’t want to bring them all.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “And it’s mine?”

You flush, face going hot. You know it’s a fair question, but you can’t help but bristle anyway. 

“Yes,” you hiss, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t… I didn’t…” You cut yourself off, the words you were my first trapping themselves behind your teeth. You hadn’t meant to lose your virginity to John Price, and you see no need to tell him you even had. As far as you’re concerned, you can keep that knowledge to yourself. “It’s yours.”

He doesn’t look convinced, and that only makes your face go hotter. You fight the urge to tuck your hands beneath your armpits, determined not to shrink in front of this man.

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” you elaborate, eyes flicking away from his face.

He takes a deep breath, exhales in a loud sigh. You hear his fingers tap against the desk, just barely bite back your annoyance at the sound. You work your tongue between your teeth, nerves racing again.

“Well,” he eventually says, standing from his chair. You can’t help but jolt a bit, having forgotten just how big he is. He towers over you even from a few feet away, his broad shoulders and barrel chest only making him feel twice as large. It’s a conscious effort on your part not to take a step back. “I hope you weren’t too attached to your apartment, love.”

He stalks around the desk, walking towards the door, but you can’t move from your spot. Your eyebrows furrow, and you track him with your eyes.

“My apartment? What’re you talking about?”

He shoots you a look, one you have no idea how to interpret, as he tugs his door open. “Simon!”

“John,” you hiss, stepping closer to him again. “What’re you-?”

He holds a hand up to quiet you as the other door opens, and you can just barely spot another man stepping forward. “Yeah?”

“Need you to call some movers. Need to get my girl moved into my place.”

You gape like a fish as the new man leans to the side a bit to look where Price is gesturing to you, and he nods. “Got it. Timeline?”

“Done by tonight.”

The other man grunts, and leaves again. John closes the door, turning back to you and starting back to his desk.

“What- what the hell?” You splutter, mouth opening and closing in shock. “You can’t- you don’t even know where I live!”

John settles back into his chair and shoots you a look that you can clearly read - it’s nothing but unimpressed.

“Course I do, love. Did you think we wouldn’t be meeting again?”

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he turns to his computer, lips twitching into a smile.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” you try, hand resting on one of the chairs in front of the desk to steady yourself. “We only… we only slept together once. I didn’t even know who you were.”

He hums an agreement, typing. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t matter, you know now. And considering the other… developments,” he shoots a look to your belly, and you rest your free hand over the small curve protectively. “It’s best we get to know each other in far closer quarters, hm?”

“No,” you argue, trying to inject some sterness into your tone. “I’m not moving in with you, that’s ridiculous. I just… I only told you about the baby so you could be involved. Maybe pay some child support. But there’s no reason for anything more.”

He sighs heavily through his nose, giving you another of those unimpressed looks. “You’re tellin’ me you’d rather keep living on your own? Take care of yourself and my baby all on your own?”

You brows furrow. “My baby.”

“Our baby.”

“Whatever,” you huff, moving to sit in one of the chairs, slumping back. “I can’t move in with you. Just because we… slept together, once, doesn’t mean you can just boss me around like a minon.”

 “Oh, it was more than once, love,” he corrects, voice pitching lower. You force down a shiver, cheeks heating again. “And is it really bossing you around if it’s for the best?”

You shoot him your own unimpressed look. “Yes, of course it is.”

He shrugs, turning back to his computer. “Then I guess I am bossing you around. Regardless, Simon will have your belongings in one of my properties by tonight.”

You scowl, leaning forward enough to plant a hand on his desk. “Listen, John, I have a life. A perfectly nice apartment, a job I like, friends - you can’t just take me away from all of that just because we made a mistake!”

The quick glance he shoots you verges on scolding. “That’s exactly what I can do, and it’s exactly what I will do.”

He stands before you can reply, fixing his cuffs as he strides back to the office door.

“You can call your boss tomorrow to turn in your resignation,” he says over his shoulder, tugging the door open and already walking away, winking at you just before he disappears from your sight. “You won’t be working while carrying our baby.”

You gape at the spot where he just was, palms still slick with sweat. It takes you a moment to fully grasp what he’s just said, how the entire conversation has gone, but when you do you’re enraged.

“John!” You shout, storming after him, leaving the pregnancy tests behind. “Get back here, you insane man! That’s absolutely not happening!”

The sound of his low laugh echoing through the stairwell only pisses you off more. Your scowl feels etched into your face, and as you storm after John you vow to keep him from completely steam rolling your life.

If he thinks he’s going to just pluck you from your life and drop you in his with no fight, he’s got another thing coming. 

[lottieshauna]

lottielee + ao3 tags (happy birthday @lais-a-ramos!)

Bonus:

[leossmoonn]

Can you do Mike with a single mom with a son like she moves into the neighborhood and her son and Abby get along super well?

includes - abby and her son already are friends. after freddy’s. feelings are caught fast. not edited.

————

“hey, baby. how was school?” you place a hand on his back, guiding him to your car.

“good,” he says, opening the door and climbing in.

“wait, henry!” a little voice shouts from behind you. you turn around, seeing a little girl with curly hair and bangs running towards your car.

“abby! stop running!” a man shouts as he follows after her.

henry pushes past you, exiting the car and stepping onto the sidewalk.

“you forgot this,” abby says, handing him one of his star wars action figures. he smiles at her and takes it. “thanks.”

the man chasing after her huffs as he stops behind her. he puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. “you can’t just go off running like that, abby.”

she turns to him and shrugs, not seeming to care. “sorry.”

“i think you should start putting that in your backpack, bud. carrying it around isn’t safe for it,” you suggest.

henry nods in agreement. you look back at abby, smiling at her. “thank you for returning the toy. that’s very kind of you.”

“you’re welcome!” she grins, showing her pearly white teeth off. “someone stole my toy at school and i was really sad, so i thought henry might be mad if that happened.”

you laugh softly and nod. “he definitely would’ve been.”

you glance at the man now standing next to her. his face has softened now. his cheeks are dusted pink from having to sprint, but he’s caught his breath now.

“hi, i’m y/n,” you say, holding your hand out for him to shake. “hi, i’m mike.” he gives you a small smile.

“your daughter is very kind,” you say.

abby grimaces and shakes her head. mike chuckles. “she’s my sister.”

“oh,” you say, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m sorry.”

he shakes his head. “no need to apologize. you couldn’t have known.”

you nod in reply. something passes between you two as you stare at each other, hands still clasped together. something that makes your skin tingle and brain melt.

“mom, i’m hungry,” henry says, tugging on your shirt. you’re pulled out of your daze and you both pull your hands away quickly. you smile bashfully, not realizing how long your hand had been in his. “it was nice meeting you. maybe i’ll see you again if abby comes out and talks to henry.”

mike nods, “definitely. it was nice meeting you, too.”

you give him an awkward wave goodbye, ushering henry back into the car. mike grabs abby’s hand and walks her to his car.

“it was nice of you to do that for that boy, but don’t just run off next time, okay?” mike says as he opens the door for her.

“mmkay,” she sighs, hopping into the car. “that woman is really pretty,” she remarks as he sits in the driver’s seat.

mike’s ears turn a little pink at the thought of you. “she’s… yeah, she’s good looking.”

abby giggles in the backseat. “you like her.” he groans, “you have to stop saying that.”

“why? it’s true.”

“because it makes me… it makes me look like a weirdo. especially if you were to say that in front of her.”

“because you know it’s true,” abby remarks. “whatever,” he rolls his eyes. yes, he’ll admit, he found you attractive. you are a very beautiful woman, but he just met you. it would be crazy if he started to like you this sudden… right?

“i’m going to get the mail real quick, okay?” you say to henry who is watching tv.

“okay,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. you slip on some sandals, walking down your lawn to grab some mail. a familiar voice catches your attention.

“my hair looks fine.”

“no, you look like a wet dog!”

you turn your head, your jaw quite literally dropping. “no way,” you gasp.

“hi, henry’s mom!” abby exclaims, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. mike gets out of the car, eyes widening upon spotting you. now he’s actually concerned whether or not he looks like a wet dog.

“hey!” you wave. “hey!” mike says, smiling brightly.

“what a coincidence, right?” you laugh. mike nods, “yeah. actually, abby told me she knew where henry’s lives. i thought she was being creepy, but now i know that it’s true.”

now you’re really laughing. “henry said something similar. he told me the other day that he’s seen your house.”

“he’s not wrong,” mike shrugs. “can i go inside?” abby asks.

“um,” mike says, a little weary of living her inside alone. he wants to keep talking to you, but he doesn’t want to be absent in case something bad happens. he’s about to answer when henry walks outside.

“mom, can i make some chicken nuggets?”

“sure, honey. let me help you with the oven,” you say.”

“hi, abby!” henry shouts. “hi!” she grins. she starts making her way down the driveway. this time, mike is close enough to catch her. “what are you doing?”

“going to talk to my friends.”

“abby, no. they didn’t invite us over.”

“how would you know? you don’t have any friends.”

mike scoffs, not even sure what she means by that. he hears you giggle and instantly softens.

“you guys can come over here. we aren’t busy,” you say.

“you sure?” he asks. “of course. i can make you guys some chicken nuggets,” you smile.

mike takes a step into your house, surprised by how well decorated it is. it looks like you live in a completely different neighborhood compared to the interior of his house. there are pictures of your family and friends everywhere, fancy-looking abstract paintings, and cool-toned furnishings and decorations that makes mike feel ten times more calm after entering.

“if you’re actually hungry i can make you something else,” you say, walking into the kitchen. mike slowly trails behind you, still taking in your house. it doesn’t feel muggy and depressing like his. you get great light and the plants by the windows and on shelves and counters help, too. your house feels warm and happy.

“i’m okay, thank you,” mike says. “would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“sure. water is fine.”

you fill a cup up, handing it to him. “i hope we aren’t interrupting any of your saturday plans.”

he scoffs with a little smile. “i should be saying that to you.”

“i’m usually pretty flexible. we just moved here, too, so i don’t know anybody or know where anything is.”

“oh, right. i remember seeing the moving trucks,” mike says. “yep, those were mine,” you chuckle.

“can i ask why you moved?”

“job offer,” you answer. “wow, congrats,” he smiles.

“thank you. it’s kind of part of the reason why i haven’t tried going out. work is moving faster than i anticipated, but it’s fine. it keeps me busy.”

mike nods, “yeah, between work and abby, i barely have anytime to myself.”

“where do you work?” you ask. “uh, i’m a store manager,” he answers, looking away bashfully.

you cock your head to the side, not understanding why he suddenly got all shy. “must be nice to be the boss,” you remark.

“it is,” he nods. “now i know why all my bosses in the past hated me when i was just a regular employee.”

you giggle, putting your hands on one of the kitchen chairs, leaning against it. mike’s eyes drop to your hands, not noticing a ring on your finger. he tries not to get too excited, although his heart is skipping beats and his cheeks hurt from repressing a smile.

“i remember working in stores and whatnot. it’s hard being an employee. we always get blamed,” you say.

mike snorts a little bit. “most of you guys never do anything right.”

“mmm, and who’s fault is that?” you quirk a brow. mike would be afraid that he hit a nerve and accidentally started an argument, but the coy smile on your face lets him know you’re bantering with him.

“well, i am the boss, so i get the last say.”

“that’s kind of how my boss is at work. he’s nice and all, but he can he kind of… condescending.”

“i can promise i am not like that.”

“i didn’t think you were.”

mike blushes a little bit, letting out a breathy laugh. something passes between you two again. something that makes mike feel like his throat is dry and that he needs an inhaler.

“mom, can you help me with the nuggets?” henry asks.

“oh, yes!” you turn around, seeing that henry had already put all the food on the baking tray. as you teach henry how to use the oven, mike takes the liberty in looking at the pictures that are on your fridge.

there are some of you and henry when he was a baby. you’re in what looks like a college dorm. your hair is very late-90s as well as your clothes. there’s another one of you with people who look like your parents. a couple more with your friends. there are lots of pictures of henry throughout the years. one particularly catches his eye. it’s of you carrying henry when he was about 2-3 years old with a guy who’s kissing your cheek. his heart sinks. he feels so ridiculous for feeling this strongly about you.

he wonders if his feelings for you are because he barely gets any play ever. he wonders if he’s just excited about talking to a woman, like a stupid high school kid. but there’s just something about you. your warm and welcoming presence and your smile that’s like the sun. or maybe it’s that you’re funny and caring and obviously a very good home decorator. not to mention, you’re gorgeous. of course you’d have a husband, or at least a boyfriend.

“we aren’t married. or dating.”

mike blinks rapidly as your voice breaks him out of his sad daze. “w-what?” he stammers.

“i see that you’re staring at milo and i,” you say. “i-i didn’t mean to invade or anything,” he rushes out.

you shake your head and shrug. “i have the picture there. if i didn’t want people asking questions, i wouldn’t have put it up.”

mike nods in reply, still afraid he’s blown his shot with you. if he even had one in the first place, that is.

“we were married,” you say. “but we divorced two years ago.”

“i’m sorry to hear that,” mike swallows hard. he is sorry to hear that, but it plants a little hope in his head.

“it’s alright. we were high school sweethearts. he got me pregnant when we were 19. we got married at 22, but in the end it didn’t work. honestly, we stayed together because of henry.” you look at your son who is now playing with action figures with abby. “but those types of relationships never work.”

“does henry miss him?” mike asks. “he does,” you nod. “he says he doesn’t, but i know he does. he was dad’s little guy. he’s just playing it tough, though. he learned that from milo.”

mike laughs a little. “well, henry is a very nice kid. you guys raised him well.”

“we aren’t done yet,” you smile. “has milo come to visit?” mike asks.

“not yet. he’s a great dad and i think he’s already made plans to visit next month. the only reason why i have full custody is because milo is traveling the world. he just turned 30 and is having an identity crisis, or whatever. and we both agreed it’d be good for henry to go to school and have some type of stability in his life. which, i know, is funny since we moved. but i think he likes it here. he obviously had no trouble making friends.”

mike glances to the two kids in the living room. “i’m glad abby met henry. she’s always had trouble making friends, but recently she’s doing really well.”

“well, i’m glad henry met her, too. and i’m glad we met,” you add the last part. “all the parents at the kid’s school seem like such suck-ups. even just driving to pick him up i feel judged.”

“i know exactly how you feel,” mike sighs.

you stare at him for a moment, a question entering your mind. your heart races as you open your mouth to speak, hoping he won’t reject the idea.

“would you and abby like to, uh, stay for dinner?”

mike’s eyes widen and he starts stammering. “yeah, uh, sure. if you’d have us. you really don’t have to, though. i already feel like we have imposed.”

“nonsense,” you shake your head. “i’d be happy to prepare something for you. that way henry and abby can hang out more.”

mike slowly nods, a slow smile lighting his features. “yeah, that sounds great!” he sounds a little more enthusiastic than he’d like, but you don’t mind. in fact, you look delighted.

mike ends up helping you make dinner. the kids each their chicken nuggets as their meal, stealing a tiny bit of your food as you two eat.

“this is amazing,” mike says. “i haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“well, thank you. this is my grandma’s recipe.”

“is there any way i can personally thank you grandma?”

“definitely. she’s be happy to hear someone else likes her cooking.”

“mom, can we watch a movie?” henry asks. “yeah, of course, bud. you don’t need my permission,” you say.

“i mean, can we all watch?”

you glance at mike who has the same shocked and hesitant expression as you.

“sure,” you nod slowly.

abby and henry end up picking “ice age” — which is one of the best dreamworks movies ever. the two kids sit on the floor wrapped up in blankets while you and mike sit on the couch, careful to keep a safe distance.

“have you ever seen this?” mike whispers. “no. i think it’s a new one,” you say.

“it’s… weird,” mike comments. you giggle quietly. “it kind of is.”

mike glances at you and can’t help but admire you. you’ve changed out of your day wear and into some pjs. your makeup is all off and you’re snuggled up under a blanket. he can’t help but think this is the real you in your natural habitat. he can’t help but think how pretty you are.

you notice mike’s gaze in your peripheral. you turn your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his face. one of the first things you noticed about mike the other day was how handsome he is. his hair seems to be just slightly messy all the time. he has a purple hue under his eyes from the bags, but it makes his brown eyes stand out more somehow. his facial hair is light but frames his face well. your eyes trace the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump by the bridge. his jawline is sharp — surprisingly sharp. all of his features are just so perfect.

“thank you for inviting us. it’s very kind of you,” mike says. “for all you know, we could’ve been weird people.”

“I’m pretty weird myself,” you say with a teasing smile. “in all seriousness, i really don’t mind. i just see the way abby interacts with henry and the way you interact with her. i know you both are good people.”

“thank you. i think you’re a good person, too. and henry.”

your eyes travel down to his lips and just for a moment, you imagine what it’s like kissing him. you have to tear your eyes away immediately, knowing he saw that and feeling a little embarrassed. it’s cliché to say, but you haven’t felt this type of way for someone since your divorce. although you and milo weren’t right for each other, you still loved him. you have also been focusing on your career and henry; you couldn’t imagine bringing someone into your life romantically. you’ve always been afraid to bring someone into henry’s life as well. but you can’t shake the feeling like mike is special and whatever you feel for mike is special.

“can i take you out on a date?” mike asks, practically blurting out the words. it’s so fast you barely catch on, but you hear the word date.

���me and you?” you clarify. “yeah,” he nods, shrinking back into the couch. “if you wanted to. i-i’m sorry if it’s weird. i know we just met and —”

“yes,” you say. “really?” he gasps as if he’s never gotten a yes. you can’t imagine that ever being the case, and you smile a little at how cute and humble he seems.

“yep. i’m free next friday,” you say.

“me, too. i can pick you up at 7.”

“sounds good,” you smile. you turn your attention back to the tv, scooting closer to him. “you better not be late,” you whisper.

mike laughs, “i can’t imagine why i would be.”

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

[frogchiro]

Imagining Tighnari coming home after going out to further explore the forest and is red in the face, panting and needy and instantly latching to your body, rutting his hips against yours whilst whimpering into your ear that he just can’t wait any longer, his cock has been throbbing for ages now whilst he was travelling home :(( you’re confused as to what brought it on, but by peering into his bag you see an array of brightly coloured mushrooms, ones that Tighnari himself to avoid at all costs as they’re basically viagra, and by the smell of his clothes you can only guess correctly that he had touched them at some point, and now it’s your job to let him fuck the living daylights out of you, else he’ll be on his knees crying and begging to let him stuff his cock into your warm pussy and to let him cum before he looses his mind :(

whiny horny tighnari who begs for a crumb of pussy :(( yeah :((

f!reader, smut galore, feral tighnari, knotting, breeding, cervix fucking, a/b/o-esque

all you can really do now is to carefully put the bag with the mushrooms down in a safe place, lock the door to your hut and strip yourself as quickly as you can because you know that any second your feral horny boyfie can and will jump you like a wild animal in heat.

and he did, oh archons he did. the second he sees that you're naked before him, he physically feels the resistance break and jumps onto you, frantically trying to climb on top of you and attempt to mount you. when he finally has you on your hands and knees tighnari lets out a pathetic long whine seeing you so open before him, presenting your dripping wet pussy to him for the taking, so without any further thoughts he rams his red cock into you, the fat tip nudging against your cervix and leaking like a faucet.

and the thing is, even if you wanted to do something, you really couldn't! the way tighnari bites your shoulder, his tiny sharp teeth making indents in your flesh marking you and the way his strong arms wrap around your belly holding you firmly in place like a vice make you feel like a helpless little bitch in heat, only there to get bred good by your mate.

and in a way you really are, your thoughts getting mushy and smoky as you feel tighnari let out a whining growl as he lifts his left leg over your thigh, the tell tale tug of his forming knot on the enterance of your pussy before you both let out a matching exhausted keen as with one final strong thrust your mate rams inside you, the pointed tip of his dick firmly lodged against the enterance to your most precious place and his pulsing knot keeping all his thick cum locked inside you.

and of course this isn't the end! the mushrooms apparently had a much stronger effect than both of you assumed, effectively sending your fennec foxboy into premature heat, so the only thing on his mind now is to be locked inside you and breed you full <33

[luck-of-the-drawings]

my TWO FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD, VAMPIRES N COWBOYS... deacon keller is SUCH a fun character, hes charming and funny but ALSO formidable and STRONG when he feels he needsta be. i hope him and arthur can get a chance to talk more and be better friends. l ike really good friend s. . like. like really good f. hangon i gotta go i think i hauve rabies.

[fauvester]

THE PRINCES OF THE NORTH!

i thought my little moshang kid could benefit from a baby brother

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Happy birthday boyo. Your weird family is celebrating about as normally as can be expected.

[milogreer]

fwiw i think before anyone gets defensive it's important to know that whoever messaged erik did so respectfully and they shouldn't be antagonized for voicing their opinion as someone who is (presumably) paying for patreon. there's a reason patreon allows patrons to message creators directly

[bubbiethesaur]

Sun Ref - wip

After telling myself I would do it months ago, I’m finally sitting down and doing a Sun reference sheet. I’m really loving the process and I’m hoping to color everything once I’m all done (twould have been smart for me to color the base model first, but ah well, it’s all a learning process)

I’ll post again once the refs are all done :D

[rillette]

POV u are an annoying older brother

[zhouxiangs]

BENZ ATTHANIN as Methas and GARFIELD PANTACH as JJ in THIS LOVE DOESN'T HAVE LONG BEANS (2024) TEASER