#HOW DID HE WRITE THE BEST REPRESENTATION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratzforchris · 29 days

Text

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily.

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin.

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest.

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements.

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person.

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him.

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke.

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap.

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked.

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings.

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie.

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned.

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be.

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading.

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words.

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence.

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him.

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship.

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially.

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst.

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word.

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you.

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room.

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly.

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks.

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend.

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.”

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated.

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look.

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video.

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background.

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly.

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you.

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you.

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language.

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses.

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again.

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently.

“Will you lay on me?” You signed.

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down.

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips.

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed.

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness.

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful.

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek.

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

619 notes · View notes

bedoballoons · 3 months

Note

Could I request a reader who makes and gives Ayato, Neuvillette, Childe, Wriothesley, and Kaeya cute chocolates, sweets, and cakes for Valentine's Day?

This perfect request is just in time for valentine's day so to everyone who's reading this happy valentine's day!!

P.s. I hope you don't mind but I added Gaming as well cause I really wanted to write this one with him as well!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰💕─

{༻~Will you accept this gift~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, Fluffy and sweet!

(Includes: Gaming, Ayato, Childe, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Kaeya!)

𑁍༄Gaming:

You held up the box of fresh melon cake, your face blushed red and your heart racing, "I made this melon cake for you, I hope you like it! I tried my best to shape it into a heart, but I'm not sure if it turned out right...Happy valentine's day Gaming!"

He smiled happily, his cheeks flushing as he accepted your gift, "It's perfect, thank you and happy valentine's day to you too!" He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your cheek, feeling like he was the luckiest on this special day.

𑁍༄Ayato:

You watched excitedly as Ayato unwrapped your gift, his delicate hands reaching into the box to reveal a bag of sweet tapioca pearls, "I handmade them and I thought that we could spend some of today shopping for tea and making our own boba drinks. If you'd like of course!"

He looked at you with adoring eyes and a soft smile, "I would love that my darling. I'm sure they will be delicious."

𑁍༄Childe:

Childe intertwined his fingers with yours, taking a bite of the sweet cake you'd made for him while reminiscing about the first time he'd met you. Of everyone he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, you were the only one who'd ever truly caught his eye and as a harbinger, he'd figured his chances with you were pretty low. Now here he was, enjoying valentines day with the most beautiful person in the world.

"You know, you should take up baking as a hobby. I'll eat everything you make and give you a kiss as payment."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette had been staring at your handmade candies for almost a full minute now and you were internally starting to panick, wondering if maybe he didn't like them...or if he would have preferred chocolates, "Neuvillette...are you alright? It's okay if you don't like them-"

"No no, my apologies. I enjoy them immensely, in truth I'm having a hard time expressing exactly how overjoyed I am to have received such a beautiful gift from you. I'm not the greatest with words...so please accept my I love you instead."

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

You kissed Wriothesleys cheek, setting your box of chocolates in his lap and sitting on his desk with a light blush, "Happy valentine's day Wrio~"

He smirked at you and leaned up from his chair to kiss your lips, "Homemade chocolates hmm? I'm flattered and spoiled...but if it's alright with you, perhaps I could have something else for dessert and enjoy these with you after~"

𑁍༄Kaeya:

You handed Kaeya the bag of chocolates you you'd made, each one as perfect as you could make them and a true representation of how you felt about him. "I hope you like them...this is the first time I've ever made valentine's chocolates and I did my very best. I love you and happy valentine's day Kaeya"

He chuckled softly and leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, finding you so adorable and sweet, "They are beautiful to say the least and I'm truly flattered to receive your first set of valentine's chocolates. Let's share them over a cup of wine, what do you say?"

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Happy valentine's day!~*⁠.⁠✧

633 notes · View notes

1-ker0sene-1 · 3 months

Note

Would you consider writing for a reader with face blindness and the other ways they have to identify the boys with?

Like whenever they just freshly walk into a room the reader has to stare at them for a moment until they say something or until they spot the part of them they use to identify them, then they get all happy to see them.

I just think it’d be really cute and face blindness is never a disability I see anything for, it lacks a lot of representation but affects a lot of people. Living with face blindness is a serious struggle, because even if someone is family, they’ll always wear the face of a stranger

{I don't mind at all! I did have to do a little research, as I personally was pretty curious at how somebody with this disability sees faces. If I got anything wrong please let me know! ♥️ As always I hope you're having a lovely day anon♥️}

Price

It took John some getting used to. Not that he doesn't try to accommodate, he just often forgets you don't see the way he does. He's so caught up in loving on you, he doesn't really mind whether you see him. So when he's meeting up with you on dates, coming over to sit at the table where you're already waiting for him.

Seeing that pretty face of yours contort into confusion and even a bit of nervousness makes his brows raise.

"I um.. I'm waiting for someone-"

You mumble out to what you assume may be a stranger.

"Are you now Darlin'?"

John chuckles, reaching to hold your hand from across the table. Lifting it to kiss your knuckles, blue eyes softening at you.

"I'm right here."

Gaz

Kyle would get used to it pretty quickly, trying to find ways for you to recognize him easily. Fuck he'll wear a goddamn cat collar if you ask him to. He won't want you to feel bad for it either.

"You don't need to see me lovie.. you know me. You feel me. And you've done a hell of a job loving me."

He mumbles, if you still feel bad- he'll take your hands and place them on his face. Telling you to just close your eyes and feel.

Anytime he sees the confusion starting in your eyes he tilts his head and cheekily tells you.

"The best boyfriend-"

"Kyle!"

He grins when he gets to watch your reaction to him. It's kind of ethereal.. He gets to see in real time the love bloom across your features. It hits him to, just falls for you everytime he sees it.

Soap

Luckily, Johnny can never really sneak up on you, purely cause he can't keep his mouth shut around you. He didn't even know for the longest time before you outright told him of your disability. He always calls out first, with that Scottish accent and slang, he's pretty recognizable. Between his call outs of-

"Bonnie!"

"Aye there's my lass.."

"Where you ofta' hen?"

Followed by being swiftly scooped up or pulled into his arms. You will have to explain the condition, he's gonna ask questions. Not that he has any doubts, he's just incredibly curious at how you see the world. He'll listen to every word as you describe it, holding your hand to his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the scar on his chin.

Ghost

Personally I believe Simon would be the most effortlessly accommodating. As soon as he finds out you have this disability, he finds a pretty good solution in his eyes. His balaclava. Not many wear a skull balaclava in fucking daylight. So often he wears it until you at least see him, just so you don't panic and can somewhat recognize him better. Then he'll slip it off.

There's maybe a couple times he doesn't wear it. Most likely he just forgot, arriving home. His stealth can sometimes be a curse when you can't recognize him. Poor doll. Nearly jumped out of your skin seeing some big guy in the corner of the room.

"Fuck- it's me love- jus' me."

He does feel bad about it. But the way your eyes light at his voice never fails to make him smile. Tugging you into his arms. Mumbling an apology for scaring you as he kisses across your skin.

#cod x reader #disabled reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kero answers

752 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 5 months

Text

All About You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), age gap, angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine, and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), petnames (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, submissive reader, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal, historical au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap lmao you can also read the story on my ao3 here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times- that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically.

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check- and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option. So he lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “Please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason.

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it.

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you- he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability.

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching your description, and as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do. He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere.

It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself. It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries.

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe. But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days.

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you- there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere.

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.”

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power. “Princess-” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp.

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage. Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are.

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error- one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach. You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night.

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour. He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.”

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together. “There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised. He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully.

Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before? You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to.

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now.

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.” Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.” “Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death. He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you.

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel- because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it? You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter- you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl.

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats. You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on.

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose- he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe. You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper.

When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning. He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want, but you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily.

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him, that you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion no matter what anyone says.

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand.

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs. It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho would do if he were you, anyways.

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?” Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You.. what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard, a man who is your fathers age at that.

But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest. “Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation. “Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now?

Minho was the ideal man, at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you. He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance?

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help.

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil, you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame. You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly, matching one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other.

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.”

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control.

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin. In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish.

But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this- to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side. “You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?”

He looks you over carefully, grip on the armrests tightening. Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable?

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.” “So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated.

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs, and Minho is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need- all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin. He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

“Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..” He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy.

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips. He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies.

He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows. Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck.

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle.

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip. If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin.

He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too. His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body.

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing. You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something. You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating.

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly.

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your juices. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect. You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head. “Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?”

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”

Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers. It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women, women who knew what they were doing, but really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand.

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked- you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you.

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question. Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget.

Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet. Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes.

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation. “You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology.

“Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss. His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin.

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all.

“M-Minho, I’m- I’m gonna-” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence. He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.” All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel.

You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips.

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face, your juices gushing around his fingers. He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had.

Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes. You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers.

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head; you’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down. He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit.

“Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.” Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly. “Feels good, I just.. I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess-” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious. “Minho, I-” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.

He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop. You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please-” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble. But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you, not that you mind in the slightest; you’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you. He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release. He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust.

A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours. Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him, his arms wrapped around you snuggly and keeping you upright against his chest.

You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek. He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks. In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably? He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be.

You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least. “Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it.

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same. He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided- so if you make your future husband, your father, the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #not me posting a fic again literally 4 days after my last one i am serious when i say i was possessed to write this #also not posting between the hours of 4-7am for once that is a win for me !!#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

404 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 19 days

Text

I’m kinda a little obsessed with how we begin at the end of the dinner portion of the date. Buck and Tommy have gone through this whole dinner…they’re on their second pitcher of beer and already have the check. And after all that it’s only when they come to the end that Tommy points out that Buck is a bit tense.

Is it that they’re at the end of dinner and Buck is suddenly aware of the world around them again…because Tommy would have probably mentioned something before right? Is it that Tommy paying has suddenly made Buck aware they are actually on a date? But we can sort of assume that until that point maybe there had been some nervous energy but it had been going well. And now he feels like there are people watching him. It's just so interesting how they decided to write this.

Buck's word salad...his confusion is just so Buck, but Tommy doesn't know him well enough to realize that. It's literally Buck processing and if Eddie hadn't walked in as a literal representation of Buck being perceived, Tommy and Buck probably would have had a productive conversation.

And I'm glad that it didn't all go well. That Tommy got to see that Buck is really still struggling through his discovery of who he is...like yeah he throws that dig at Buck about closets, but also Tommy does understand where Buck is and maybe he's seeing a bit of what Tommy himself went through.

The thing that this does allow is Buck to have some time. Tommy's right, Buck isn't ready. He's freaking out...not about Tommy, but about his very identity. What Buck is, is honest. He's not someone that hides anything from his friends and family. It's hard for him to lie to Eddie and we see that immediately when he goes to talk to Maddie because that's the type of thing that matters to Buck. He's also kinda going crazy thinking about Tommy.

They're handling Buck's story so well. And I love that Tommy cuts their date short without putting any blame on Buck, and that he leaves it to Buck to reach out. His interest is known...he doesn't leave Buck before telling him he's adorable and that he'll see him and we the audience are left waiting for Tommy to come back within the scope of this episode.

And I can't help but think about how if Tommy only allowed himself to be himself after he left the 118, he's only been out about as long as the show has been on and six years going on seven isn't a long time in the scheme of things. It also does this amazing thing to show the contrast between Tommy and Buck because Tommy knew he liked guys long before he acted on it/admitted it. Buck had no clue. Tommy hid it, he lied. Buck can't do that, it's not in him to be dishonest, and it's a true struggle for him.

Buck talking to Eddie about it and coming out to him...it's so beautiful. I love that scene but in the context of Buck and Tommy there's so much in Eddie's support of them and his push for Buck to reach out to Tommy. Eddie has Buck's back no matter what and it's exactly what Buck needed. Not just the support of his best friend, but the truth telling. It's a weight lifted off his shoulders, and not just that but he has advice on how to move forward too.

I would have loved to see Buck trying to figure out what to say to Tommy when he calls him, but what I love is that Tommy is willing to see Buck. There's something so careful about the way that Tommy acts when he arrives at the coffee date. Obviously he's showing up because he's interested in Buck...but he also probably had no idea what was going to happen. He certainly did not expect Buck to ask him to be his date at the wedding. And then Buck places his hand over Tommy's and Tommy puts his hand over Buck's and Buck doesn't care if anyone sees.

I love this show. I love the care being put into this story.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #spoilers #911 meta #evan buckley #tommy kinard #meta #I have so many feelings about this episode #this was supposed to be like tiny text post but it spiraled

218 notes · View notes

rileyslibrary · 11 months

Note

How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.

Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...

So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)

Ghost & Peppa (the dog)

Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:

Brief mentions of war

Mentions of physical & emotional trauma

This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy

I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.

——————————————————————

He’s fine. Of course, he is.

Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.

What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.

He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.

Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.

“I got nothing to say”, was his response.

Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.

“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”

But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”

And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.

Nothing.

For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.

But he was fine.

Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?

The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.

Plus, he was fine.

But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.

The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.

“Peppa, like the pig?”

That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.

“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”

The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.

Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.

“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.

Such compliance? From Ghost? How?

You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.

Peppa became his silent confidante.

He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.

Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.

But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.

He was fine.

You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.

Fine.

And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.

“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”

And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.

After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.

He was fine.

“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”

“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”

“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.

He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.

But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.

She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”

She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.

Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.

Whining and demanding more pets.

Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.

Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.

“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”

——————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty

844 notes · View notes

sillysowa · 9 months

Text

Ask and you shall receive, my lovelies!

ALL MINE!

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X PLUSSIZED!FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT! PWP

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNINGS: NON DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING, FACESITTING, FACE RIDING, VAGINAL SEX, BODY WORSHIP

AUTHORS NOTE: I TRIED MY ABSOLUTE BEST TO WRITE ABOUT AN EXPERIENCE THAT I AM NOT INCREDIBLY FAMILIAR WITH, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF ANY OF MY REPRESENTATION OR CONTENT IS OFFENSIVE OR INACCURATE! I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE WITH WRITING DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING. SORRY IF THIS SEEMS AT ALL RUSHED, BEEN HELLA BUSY!

SYNOPSIS: YOU SURPRISE YOUR BOYFRIEND HOBIE AT HIS BIGGEST CONCERT YET, ONLY FOR SOME GROUPIES TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT, BUT HOBIE DOESN’T LET THAT SLIDE—OH AND HE FUCKS THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LATER!

—

Today was a big day. Hobie and his band are going to have a concert at their biggest venue yet, and you’re going to surprise him in the crowd. Originally, you and Hobie were pretty bummed because you had plans that day already, and you were almost positive that you wouldn’t be able to get the day off—but turns out you were wrong. Without telling Hobie, you managed to clear up your day completely, and get VIP floor tickets to the show. You had even gone shopping for a concert outfit that would make you look amazing under the concert lights. You are incredibly confident in your body and how it looks, and you really wanted to show it off.

It was the night of, Hobie left earlier, obviously disappointed that you wouldn’t be there but still understanding that your schedule was busy. The smell of his cologne when he bent down to kiss you, his guitar over his shoulder and his amp in his hands was a sight for sore eyes. The moment he left, you went straight to the nearest mirror and did your makeup, spending all the time necessary to look your absolute best. Finally it was time for the outfit. It was beautiful. It was absolutely everything you wanted and it looked beautiful on you. You couldn’t wait for Hobie to see you, illuminated in the neon lights and done up for him, but you really couldn’t wait for him to fuck you up.

You got to the venue early, making sure you could guarantee that you were front row, and prepared yourself to stand for a very long time. The looks that you were given from the groupies who walked to the VIP line made you roll your eyes. There was always those girls—the tall, stick-thin, bratty—and they always needed to make sure you saw them when they looked at you nastily. You just looked forward, and waited out the time until the doors opened.

When they did, you walked with a quick pace, not running, but definitely not walking. You made your way up to the front row, slightly to the right where Hobie plays—you knew because you saw his guitar propped up. You heard the sound of heels, giggled and snobby sounding voices around you. It was the girls from earlier. They were all around you, and you could hear their whispers. It didn’t get to you before, but god it was starting to get to you now. You tried your best to keep ignoring them when a tall blonde woman who didn’t look like the type to be at a punk-rock concert, leaned over and whispered something gut-wrenchingly rude in your ear before standing straight and chatting with her friends. You stood there, suddenly incredibly insecure and crushed. Your spirits were high before, but now? Now you just wanted to go home…to Hobie. That was when you remembered why you were here. You were here for Hobie.

When the lights came on, there’s a ruckus all around. The crowd squeezes together uncomfortably, the room growing loud and wild. The girls around you throw insults your way when you don’t move, holding onto the railing tight. The first song started, and you heard a flurry of yells from Hobies bandmates, and then Hobie. A chill raced down your spine like a rollercoaster down its tracks, and Hobie raced onto the stage. He looked amazing—A fishnet top with a leather vest over it, dark blue jeans held up by a spiked belt, as much silver jewelry as he could fit, and messy black eyeliner.

The song was going amazing, Hobies skilled fingers that you loved oh so much dancing across his guitar as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his beautiful smile coming out for all to see. Nothing good lasts forever though as when you excitedly jumped with the crowd, the bitchy girl to your right started hurling insults at you. This time you didn’t take it so well. You started questioning her,

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You, you fucking skank!” She yelled obnoxiously, “Can you fucking move?” She said with the most audacity you had ever seen in your life. Some of her friends laughed, some of them looked at you with a nasty stare, but you just shook your head,

“I payed for these tickets just like you. I’m just trying to enjoy the show, asshole.” You grunted, facing forward to catch the end of the song and ignoring her when she suddenly shoved you. You stumble for a moment, bumping into the fellow groupie bitches to your left only for them to grunt and get pissy. You turned around, ready to fuck her up when,

“You betta get your grimy hands of my girl.” Hobie spoke into his mic, voice deep and angry. He stared directly into the blonde girl’s soul, causing her to freeze and stare blankly at him, then dumbly point at herself like she wasn’t caught in the act,

“Yeah you, what the fuck do you think you were doin?” He laughs, “Get the hell out of my venue.” He suddenly deadpans, “C’mon, get.” He says, the whole crowd invested and booing the girls. They squeeze out of the crowd and get ushered out by security. You’re incredibly flustered as suddenly there’s a ton of eyes on you, everyone wanting to get a look at the lead guitarists girl.

“Take a peek at my girlfriend, people. Isn’t she lovely? God I can’t wait to tear that outfit off of her later!” Hobie gushes into the mic, his deep voice echoing in the venue. The whole crowd starts cheering and getting hype, the next song starting soon after. You knew you were in for one hell of a night.

—

“Can’t believe you actually came, you cheeky ting.” Hobie smiles as he kisses your neck, your back pressed against the deck of his boat. He had rushed you out of the venue earlier, cock already hard in his jeans and hands all over you,

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Hobie, I love to see you on stage.” You smile, thoughts caught up on what those girls said to you about your body earlier. You wonder if there will ever be a day where you feel confident in your skin without getting torn down by someone. You didn’t notice that you had started tearing up, but Hobie must have noticed because he grabbed your face, your eyes refocusing on him while he’s on top of you,

“Who the fuck were those girls?” He suddenly asks, his tone dead serious,

“Just some random groupies I think.” You say dismissing any conversation that might come up about what had gotten you in a fight with them, but sure enough,

“What caused that scene, love?” He questioned, head tilting and deep eyes analyzing your every move and facial expression—nothing gets past Hobie—especially not things like this,

“They…they made a couple comments about my weight.” You admit, trying to move past it as soon as possible.

“And that’s got you bothered?” He asks, already knowing the answer,

“No.”

“No?” Hobie asks, “I don’t buy that—you’ve got that distant look in your eyes doll. Do I need to remind you just how beautiful you are cause I have no problem doing that.” Hobie whispers, voice growing seductive and needy as he kisses your shoulder, his hands dipping down to cup your pussy. When you shudder and sigh, he chuckles, kissing you and suddenly flipping you both, you on top of him. Hobies strength never ceases to amaze you, and you’re even more amazed when he gently lifts you by your hips, sliding himself to be level with your cunt,

“Sit on my face baby, want your sweet pussy~” Hobie grunts, licking his lips and tearing your underwear off. You gasp and cry out when he pulls your hips down, eating you out like he’s gone mad. You rock your hips into his face, your clit bumping against his nose,

“…So pretty…so fucking good…and all mine…” Hobie grunts while he eats you out, his face buried between your legs and his eyes crazed. The warmth and wetness between your legs drives you crazy, panting and moaning as you thrust your hips against him. Hobies fingers grip your thighs, tongue fucking you while his nose rubs your clit. You feel your orgasm coming, and you can barely warn Hobie,

“I-I’m gonna…” You moan, your hands in his hair, looking down at him. Hobie just speed up his ministrations, hungry for you. When you cum, you shake and whimper, the sound of Hobie’s grunts and slurping overstimulating you almost instantly.

“Hobie~” You whine, writhing to get off of him when he finally gives in, gently helping you get positioned under him. He kisses you passionately, one finger under your chin. The kiss is full of love and passion, and Hobie kisses all the way down your body, whispering how much he loves the things about you that no one else has seen. How much he loves the things about your body that are truly unique, and the things about your body that you might not truly love. Hobie loves it all.

He undoes his belt, the sounds sending need straight to your core,

“I love you baby, y’know that?” He whispers,

“Yeah…I do.” You say, breathless,

“Let me show you, baby.” He groans, lining his tip up with your entrance and gently thrusting in. You wince at the size of his cock in you, and Hobie groans, his head dripping down beside you,

“You feelin’ good doll? Does that hurt?” He grunts out, his hands gripping the wood underneath you. The night is cold out on the water with you and Hobie all alone, and the feeling of him inside you is like heaven. You gasp out into the dark sky as Hobie fucks you, whimpering,

“Feels perfect, Hobie~”

His cock stretches your walls, his moans of how beautiful and pretty you are etched into your skin with each kiss. Your thighs shake and tremble and your head spins from all the praise, Hobie fucking you into the floor.

“You like that? Yeah? Good girl baby so good f’me just keep giving me those pretty moans baby” He moans, kissing you as he speeds up. He’s fucking you with reckless abandon, the boat even slightly shaking. He pulls away from the kiss panting wildly and throwing his head back as he thrusts into you. The noises that spill from your lips are animalistic, and your pussy squeezes around him,

“Hobie!” You whimper, your hands shaking on his back.

“Come on, cum for me luv.” He groans, kissing you deeply as you moan into his mouth. Your eyes widen and then roll into the back of your head, the sounds of both your skin slapping resonating around you. Hobie speeds up impossibly faster and you cum—seeing stars as you squirt all over him. Almost directly after, Hobie spills his cum deep inside you. You can feel the twitching of his cock and the warmth of his semen inside you. Tears spill out of your eye, Hobie breaking the kiss to wipe them away. His thumbs smoothing over your face. Hobie pulls out of you and scoop you up, bringing you to his bed and cleaning you up softly—the whole time whispering sweet praises to you and kissing every inch of your skin for the last time that night. Hobie cleans himself off, helps you into one of your sleep shirts that you left on the boat last time, and slips into bed behind you, holding you all through the night.

No one will ever tear down your self esteem with Hobie around. He was sure of it.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown angst #spiderman #silly’s fics

855 notes · View notes

rreids · 13 days

Note

hey, i was wondering if you'd be able to write smth with Spencer in a relationship with someone with bpd? it's totally okay if you're not comfy with that, but I've just been suspecting i may have it, and ppl with bpd are always portrayed so negatively in relationships. it would be just rly nice to read ur take on how Spencer would handle that and just see some positive representation! (my mental health has also been shit so it would be p comforting lol) thank u 🫶

hi love 🫶 i don't know a ton about bpd, so i hope i did this justice! i researched the diagnosis and how healthy relationships help with regulation and in what ways they do (both accounts from experts and from those who are diagnosed). and i hope you feel better soon <3 it sucks when your mind fights against you.

PROMISES • S. REID X READER

reader has bpd (written by an author without, ideally will be comforting rather than hurtful. please let me know if it is offensive in any way); gn!reader; spencer has to break a small promise but makes others; talks of therapy; teasing; fluff; ~500 words

“Hey, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers into the phone, voice a little strained. “I’m really, really sorry, but I can’t make lunch today. We’re on the way to a case in Omaha. It’s a really bad one.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.”

“You know I want to be there more than anything, right?” He’s shuffling papers in the background, and you know they’re in the middle of getting ready on the jet and that he’s still making time for you, but it still makes your mind race with worry and upset. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. And I promise I’ll take you out as soon as we’re back.”

You frown, fiddling with the promise ring on your finger. “Will you still talk to me?”

Spencer chuckles. “I think I go insane when I go too long without hearing your voice. As long as you don’t mind calls when it’s two a.m. there, I’m calling before bed every night I have enough time.”

You sigh.

“I know, honey. When’s your next meeting with your therapist?”

“Tomorrow,” you mumble, gnawing on your lip.

“Well, you have permission to talk about how much I suck,” Spencer teases lightly. “As long as you know it’s not by choice that I’m being a bad boyfriend.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re the best boyfriend. You understand me.” He does. He’s looked into BPD extensively — he knows even more than you do, rattling off statistics, assumed causes and connections, coping methods, everything. He knows how to break you out of the spirals and to calm your impulsivities.

“You have other boyfriends?” Spencer sighs dramatically, and you laugh.

“Why would I have them? You’re more than enough.”

Spencer hums. “I am, aren’t I?”

You groan.

“I’m messing with you,” his voice is fond and soft. “I gotta hang up, everyone’s coming and we need all our focus on this case. Message me if you need anything. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t do anything,” you know you’re exaggerating, but it’s hard to stop the words.

“I do, just nothing out of our normal,” he’s nudging you gently, reminding you to think things through before acting impulsively. “I give you permission to watch our show without me if it’ll keep you entertained.”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll be good,” you draw it out.

Spencer snorts. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Spence.”

A beat.

“I’m not actually going to talk shit about you to my therapist, just so you know. I do talk about you though.”

And then you hang up.

He sends you a ‘???’ and a ‘I wanted to say something still.’ right after. When you tell him to say it, he sends a ‘Do what you need to feel regulated. I don’t take it to heart, you know I don’t.’

And he doesn’t. He’s so sweet, so achingly perfect, understanding of when your moods swing, or when you feel empty, or whenever anything changes and you can’t tell why.

And he always helps you down, kissing scars and tears and whispering praise as he gets you to feel right again.

#my works #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #requested

300 notes · View notes

madnessr · 11 months

Text

Last Night Part Two

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity

Part One

Word Count: 10k

There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!

Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!

If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.

You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.

Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?

You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.

You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?

How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.

You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.

Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.

You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.

The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.

You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.

But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.

Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?

Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.

So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.

You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.

However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.

You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.

The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.

"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.

"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.

"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.

None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.

Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.

Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.

“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.

Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.

David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.

"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.

"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.

All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.

"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?

Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.

David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.

"Who?"

"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.

"Who did this to you?"

The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."

That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.

You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.

"Are they still sleeping?"

An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"

A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.

"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.

David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.

Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.

For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.

Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.

Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.

David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.

"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.

Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.

Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."

Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."

The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.

As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.

"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."

You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.

Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.

Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.

When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.

You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.

"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."

"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.

The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."

You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.

"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.

"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."

As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.

"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.

"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.

But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.

Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.

You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.

"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.

Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.

"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.

"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.

"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.

"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."

You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.

"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.

As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.

You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.

In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.

You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.

"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.

"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.

"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.

"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.

"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.

Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.

As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.

They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.

No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.

The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.

The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"

Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.

The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.

"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"

"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."

The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"

You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.

"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."

You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.

"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."

He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."

His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."

Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.

"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.

The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.

"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.

He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.

As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.

Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.

"So what will you do?"

"What I need too."

His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.

"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.

"What I was born to do."

His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.

That blow was meant to kill you.

"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.

"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.

The boys.

David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.

"You will never—be one of God's—creations."

Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.

The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.

You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.

Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.

"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.

That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.

That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.

"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.

"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.

"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."

You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.

"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.

"What?"

He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.

"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.

"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?

"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.

"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?

"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.

"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.

"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."

"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.

"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?

"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"

"We aren't animals, David–"

"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.

"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."

A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.

"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.

"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."

"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."

He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.

"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.

When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.

"Hey, Darlin!"

The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

624 notes · View notes

punkeropercyjackson · 15 days

Text

Please tell me how Duke,Cass and Stephanie getting nonstop left out of Batfam content isn't because of antiblackness,racialized misogyny and a mix of gender essentialism,classism and ableism.When none of you can shut the fuck up about how 'black haired and blue eyed male is the only requirement for a Batkid!' and go as far as to include 'pale/fair skinned' sometimes when Damian and Dick are brownskin in multiple versions because of being brown in heritage and Damian and Jason have green eyes half the time and by saying 'lighteyed' when it comes to Batboys,that would be problematic but it'd at least include Duke since he's gold eyed due to Gnonom and you probably don't even know who that is since you actively refuse to meet Duke even though he's easiest Batkid to read for BECAUSE he's got so little content and Cass and Stephanie also have a small amount of material compared to the other boys

When Cass is chosen over Duke for Jason by all of you even though she hates him and she chooses Stephanie again and again against everyone's wishes and Duke canonically WANTS to be chosen for fucking once and Jason DID choose him and is the only other Batboy who called him a Robin directly outside of Robin War and Stephanie's dying wish was be 'a real Robin' and Cass' character creation purpose is to defy the idea that asian women exist only for white men and go against other asian girl stereotypes,INCLUDING being purely soft and feminine by making her a rough and tough butch who hates cis men.When you say 'Fuck canon,fanon is better!' to justify your millions of rewrites to erase Tim's Robin being a romani man and his Batgirl a half chinese girl and Jason's Robin and Batgirl being a black autistic boy and his Batgirl a bpdtistic male explotation victim and your crossovers of characters who have the perfect parents or at least caretakers in canon but suddenly,canon is your gospel when it comes to the bigotry in it's writing i.e how 'The core Batkids' came to be

And the fact is,that's like the only Batkids combo that DOSEN'T make sense!The Dead Robins Club is a no brainer but there's also the 90s Batkids trinity,the Shakespearen Robins(Jason,Stephanie and Duke),The Troubled Batkids(Tim,Stephanie,Cass and Duke),Batman!Cass Batwoman!Stephanie Robin!Maps and Trans Batgirl!Damian and the ONLY CANON Nightwing Robin and Batgirl trio we've ever gotten in Dick Tim and Cass??????You have some of the best dynamics of all time possible but nah,you'd rather pass it over for infantalizing a grown ass disabled moc into your pathetic lil pretty obsessed manchild,turning thee dead sidekick into a convuluted mess more than canon ever has and that's saying BIG words,cringeifying someone who just has the personality of an ordinary of 17 year old boy and is therefore inherently lovable into the arranged marriage lovechild of a dark romance guy and a pick me quotev girl and dehumanize a cute and sweet lil brown boy who's got that trauma already to turn him into an animal in human mold in the same breath you bash him healing enough to get a gf through trauma bonding and being kiddy together in favor of your groody ass lil age gap fantasy-Actually,that applies to ALL OF THEM

Kory,Rose and STEPHANIE are infinitely better written love interests for Dick,Jason and Tim than any older man you want them to get with,Tim most of all because he's not even a man,he's a boy.Cass and Stephanie are adults and have been for a long time in multiple incarnations so why not make Stephcass smut instead?Why not 'Duke joins the Batfam early/Jason takes Duke into The Outlaws after he has a fight with Bruce that scared him/Sleep Deprived Duke Thomas/Chaotic Duke Thomas/Duke Thomas deserves better/Trans Duke Thomas/Autistic Duke Thomas?,all of which are infinitely more implicable to Duke than they are to Tim and so is 'Token Normal Tim Drake'?When you make this content or you support it,you're saying something.You're saying you don't care about representation and perfer stereotyping and abusive dynamics because you believe they're inherently more interesting

Before you judge this post,consider the following:Which one of us has read enough comics and watched enough adaptions to know all this?Which one of us has more of a right to call themself a Batfam and Batkids fan?Which one of us is constantly gatekeeping Duke,Cass and Stephanie from their own story and pulling the 'No,YOU!!!!' card?It's absolutely pathetic how desperate the grip Batfanon has taken is and even more so that y'all refuse to move on from it like i did.It's not gonna kill you,you pissbabies.And just curious,how long was the last Batfam-centric post you rb'd?Longer than this,right?

136 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 3 months

Note

Hello! I don’t know if you do this but I was wondering what your thoughts were for a Yandere Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel? I’m having trouble writing a good representation of him and would like some advice.

Honestly I'm gonna humble myself and say that it took reading someone else's post to make me like, REALLY notice the nuances of Lucifer's character

This post right here literally made me rewatch his scenes and go "oh wow he IS like DANGEROUSLY DEPRESSED"

He doesn't remember Charlie told him where she is, or what she's doing, and he can barely follow a conversation despite clearly trying to pay attention. He also just seems kind of scattered, and um, HE LITERALLY MAKES A JOKE ABOUT DYING FROM FALLING OFF THE HOTEL BALCONY like dude is making jokes about death in front of his fucking daughter, like my dudes, I think this guy is BARELY holding himself together

He clearly loves loves LOVES Charlie but he doesn't really know how to properly articulate himself and I have a feeling there's a lot he's concealing from her, and another big question is, is his depression from being cast out of Heaven, or from something to do with his missing wife, or a combination of both? Either way this man is clearly dealing with like, really bad issues. And Charlie also mentioned he wasn't around a whole lot when she was younger, so... did he have depression back then too?

So, that all said, I feel like a yandere Lucifer would almost be, potentially invigorated by his darling? Given a new lease on life? He may not be 100% his old self again but, you get him to like, 65, maybe 70% on a good day. You give him another reason to get out of bed in the morning, or afternoon, or evening or, whenever he can drag his depressed ass out of bed

Given what we currently know, I feel like a romantic yandere Lucifer would pretend to only be platonic and do his best to poorly conceal his feelings because of his whole... "can't ask his missing wife if it's ok for you to be their third" ordeal, the man still wears his wedding ring, and a platonic yandere Lucifer basically adopts you like another kid, because uh, I mean for one he apparently canonically missed a lot of Charlie's childhood, and he's also an ancient fallen angel, so he's got that age advantage on you no matter how old you are. I mean what are a few decades when he's literally thousands upon thousands upon thousands--you get the idea

Yandere Lucifer would want to stay close to you, helping watch over you, maaaaaybe being overly paranoid about you randomly disappearing and going missing For Very Obvious Reasons, and in the process he winds up being unintentionally overbearing. I mean, he did it in irritation, but he basically showed up at Charlie's hotel immediately saying it was a dump and all of HER FRIENDS were 'a bunch of losers'. He never completely pulls his punches when there's something he's displeased with, even if it has something to do with someone he loves, so his darling would get much of the same treatment. "Ohhhhh, you uh, you wanted to move across the city? That's, um, definitely a fun idea! BuuuuuUuuut, what IF, instead of doing that--", like, he tries to playfully tug you in 'the right direction' until you make him put his foot down

Hmmm... what would him losing his cool look like... well, we've already seen that he doesn't mind throwing hands and WILL KILL, but will stop if he's asked to or there's a good reason. With you, though, you're not typically going to be there to stop him from offing any rivals or bad influences, so I imagine he'd be kinda casual about it, actually! He already thinks pretty lowly of Sinners, so say he finds out you've been ditching him and Charlie to go out drinking with strangers, making new friends, maybe having a few one night stands? Yeah, some of those people definitely aren't calling you back, and Lucifer doesn't really see a problem with it. These people are kind of the worst and really don't deserve you, anyways! If anything he's helping clean up Hell for you and his daughter and keeping you safe :)

Losing his cool with YOU... I think would involve him using his powers to finally confine you, maybe even going demon mode to intimidate you into submission in a very dad-esque "now you listen HERE" kind of way. We don't really know the scope and scale of his powers but I can picture him at least being, obviously much stronger than he looks, and transforming to fly you "back home" where he puts you in your room where no one can reach you without his explicit permission (and you also can't leave~)

One second you're just drunk and jokingly defying him, teasing him, maybe even picking him up and swinging him around because you're bigger than him, to you he's just a silly little guy! Meanwhile this Grown Ass Man Who Is Also The Actual Devil is getting more than just a little frustrated you basically view him as a wacky little cartoon more than a grown man, one who has had sex and has had two wives and sired a child. You're just teasing him and stumbling around drunk when he's trying to get you to your hotel room to get to bed to sleep, like you're clearly not taking him seriously, maybe even playfully putting your hands on him (TOTALLY not riling him up in 'fun' ways) and he finally just huffs and snaps his fingers and, you're suddenly magic'd to bed! You're laying there blinking confused and he's tucking you in and chuckling that "you're such a handful!" before leaving you to sleep and somehow INSTANTLY knowing when you're up.

You ARE in his house, after all...

Not to be gross but uh..... I'm not saying "yandere Lucifer who has the power to still get a Sinner pregnant if he wanted to and you wind up fooling around with him and you're waking up with his little apple symbol on your lower tummy as one of those like hentai womb tattoos to show you're pregnant" but uhhhhhhhhhhyeah that's what I'm saying, and whether it was accidentally or intentionally, he's keeping it, and thus, keeping YOU

I just feel like he'd be very goofy and awkward and bad at hiding his feelings and being very clearly overprotective and jealous in ways everyone else but you manages to pick up on (god Alastor would have some MATERIAL) and, in a romantic/sexual setting he eventually just loses his patience with you not seeing him as a man and just gets... progressively more forward. You pop back into the Hotel after a night out and Lucifer's already hammered at the bar with Husk, stumbling up to you, hanging off of you, slurring and embarrassing himself, "You'reeeee SO pretty... like SO pretty.... do you wanna have *BELCH* you wanna fuck? Cause I LOVE to fuck, like when I FUCKED my wife to make my DAUGHTER, my wife and daughter that I have, 'cuz im a DAD, 'cuz I'm a MAN!" and you're just giggling and ruffling his hair, "You're so weird, dude ^^" and walking away while Lucifer internally screams, wondering just how DIRECT with you he's going to have to be

meanwhile Charlie is totally cool with all of this and sees this as a weird double whammy of Curing Dad's Depression + new family member and friend hurray! and she's totally actively either shipping you with her dad or aiding and abetting him in his weird attempts to absorb you into the Morningstar family

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #hh #sinprompts

202 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 6 months

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and steve get drunk lolz), random guy at a bar being an asshole

summary: in which it's a halloween night full of partying, fun, and maybe one too many drinks

author's note: ohohoh this was so fun to write !! happy (almost) halloween<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have laughed.

Because doing so did not help in convincing Steve that the costume he was wearing did not look ridiculous, and instead your laugh only made him frown at you.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just a bit surprised to see how you looked.”

You didn’t expect the Robin costume you got for Steve to shock you as much as it did, and it was mainly because of the green pants he had on; because perhaps they were a bit too green. It confused you a bit because the pants hadn’t looked that overbearing and bright when you bought them from the costume shop— but, granted, it had still been in the bag with the rest of the clothing items for the costume, so you didn’t get to see too much of the pants. And with the red shirt he had on that had the signature “R” logo in the corner of it, for a split second, Steve looked more like Christmas personified than Robin, and that was what made you laugh. It wasn’t even a full laugh, it was more like a breath of a laugh.

“Why can’t I be Batman and you be Robin?”

“Because that’s not an accurate representation of us,” You answered him immediately. “I’m clearly the Batman in this friendship. And I’m older.”

He rolled his eyes at you and you knew exactly what that eye roll said— “You’re only two fucking months older than me.”

“Why can’t Robin be Robin?” He asked.

“You already know the answer to that. She and Vickie are doing some vampire couples costume thing.”

Robin being a part of the costume had been the initial plan— Steve would’ve been Batman, Robin would’ve been Robin, and you would’ve been Catwoman. But, when Robin bailed so that she could do the couple’s costume with Vickie, you refused to be Catwoman anymore because you didn’t want to spend the night constantly telling people that you and Steve weren’t dating and just decided to do a duo costume that looked way too obviously as a couple’s costume for “fun.”

“And we can’t even change the costumes now because we have to be at The Hideout in an hour,” You reminded him. They were having a Halloween party there and Eddie’s band would be playing at some point during the night, they were all going dressed as zombies, and a handful of other bands were going to be playing too. “You should’ve tried this on yesterday when I bought it.”

Steve only rolled his eyes at you again even though he knew you were right. You hopped off the kitchen counter and followed him as he walked back into his room. You sat down on the side of his bed and he went into his bathroom, looking in the mirror and running a hand through his hair.

“Robin’s the cuter one of the duo, anyway,” You told him. “Girls will love it.”

Steve still didn’t say anything yet, so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You should change the pants. These ones are way too bright and they kinda hurt my eyes. Maybe put on those darker green ones you have. People will still easily understand the costume, so it’ll be okay. And the rest of the costume is perfectly fine. Also, when you put the yellow cape on it’ll tie everything together.”

He still stayed quiet so you got up and walked over to where he stood still looking at himself in the mirror, and you poked his arm. “Can you please say something so I can stop giving you an ego boost by rambling about how good you’ll look tonight?”

Steve laughed a bit. “No, you should keep going.”

That time you rolled your eyes at him. “Ha ha. Fuck you.” You walked out of the bathroom and started heading to the bedroom door. “Anyway, I’m gonna put my costume on and then we should take a few shots before Vickie and Robin come get us.”

“I thought we were gonna keep things mostly PG tonight?” Steve asked as he began rummaging through his closet for the pants you mentioned. “Because of what happened two nights ago.”

Somehow you simultaneously winced and laughed at the mention of that Wednesday night. Where you and Steve sat in the living room drinking and watching random bad movies he brought home from Family Video; the alcohol actually managed to make the movies somewhat bearable to watch. It was an impulsive decision that left you both with horrific hangovers in the morning as you forced yourself to go to class and Steve begrudgingly went to his twelve o’clock shift.

“Okay, I know that we’ve still only barely recovered from that night, but you don’t have to work tomorrow, and I’m not gonna have any school shit to worry about, so tonight we can just have fun without any of the consequences of what happened last time.” You turned around and smiled at him. “The type of fun that involves a lot of alcohol. And it’s Halloween so I feel like it’s bad luck if we don’t partake in underage drinking.”

“Very solid points.”

“I’m gonna pretend that you weren’t being sarcastic right then and instead just believe that you actually do agree with me,” You said before finally leaving his room and walking toward yours.

Your costume was already lying on your bed— a black cropped shirt with the signature Batman emblem on it, a black cape, and black jeans that were probably the tightest pair of pants you now owned but they made your butt look great so you overall counted them as a win. Getting dressed took no longer than five minutes, but then you spent an extra five minutes rummaging through your closet to find your black hightop Converses until you remembered that they were probably buried in the heap of shoes that always sat by the front door. You knew that wearing anything other than sneakers would’ve probably been better for the look of the costume, but last year you made the mistake of wearing heeled boots with your pirate costume, and although they did make the outfit look great, your feet were absolutely dead in the morning and you never wanted to experience that pain again. Therefore, tonight, sneakers would be the way to go.

You noticed Steve in the kitchen— with his pants changed and the rest of the costume on— when you left your bedroom and started heading toward the shoe pile by the front door. You reached into the pile, pushing aside a pair of his Nikes and then grabbing your Converses.

Steve opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the bottle of tequila. You stopped tying your shoes for a second and looked up at him, immediately noticing how the bottle was close to empty.

“Jesus, I didn’t think that we devoured so much of it the other night,” You said as Steve opened up a different cabinet to grab two mugs to use as makeshift shot glasses.

“I vaguely remember us saying that if we drank more, the bad movies we were watching would start to actually make sense,” He said with a laugh as he started pouring. You couldn’t help but laugh with him because that sounded exactly like the type of drunken logic the two of you would have. “Also, I really wish Robin hadn’t bailed on the group costume because you look much cooler than me right now.”

You only laughed more at his words as you went to grab two sodas from the fridge. “Next year, you can take full reign over our costume decision and I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

He smiled at you. “I will fully hold you to that.”

“I’m already scared for whatever you end up deciding,” You said as you picked up one of the mugs and then Steve grabbed the other. “But, anyway, cheers.”

“Cheers.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t remember exactly where Steve or Robin or Vickie were, but with your slight inebriation that realization didn’t worry you that much.

You had tasked yourself with grabbing more drinks for yourself and Steve from the crowded bar, but before you could even walk up to the counter, a guy dressed as a cowboy stopped you and decided to start a conversation.

It was pretty dark and the music was loud, so you could barely make out what he was saying after he said his initial “hello,” but with the way he was smiling at you it was fairly easy to tell that he was flirting. And even though you were tipsy and he was a little bit cute, you weren’t in the mood to reciprocate.

“I should go,” You interrupted him for the first time in the past five minutes. You attempted to make your voice sound as nice as possible because it was easier to say that excuse instead of the entire truth, which was that you simply didn’t want to talk to him. “I gotta get back to my friends.”

Either the guy didn’t hear what you said or he decided to completely disregard it all because he said, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No, thanks,” You told him, making sure your voice was loud enough so that he could clearly hear your answer.

“Come on, let me be the Robin to your Batman, or better yet you be the Robin to my Batman,” He said and before you could scoff and roll your eyes and simply walk away, he reached out to firmly grab your waist.

You immediately pulled away from him and were about to say something along the lines of “Fuck you,” but you were interrupted by arms circling around you from behind; it was a touch that felt so familiar that you instinctually leaned into it.

“She already has a Robin to her Batman so fuck off,” Steve said and you had to try your hardest not to laugh at his words. It was always in moments like these, where guys were being dicks and didn’t take no for an answer, that you’d happily play the fake dating card with Steve.

When the guy walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, you turned to face your friend and leaned in close to him so that he could hear you over the music. “Thank God for you, Steve Harrington.”

His mouth was close to your ear. “I knew that I shouldn’t have let you go alone to get the drinks.”

“You were chatting up that girl dressed as Tinker Bell, so I thought I’d be a good wingwoman and walk away.”

“She left with her friends.”

From the sound of his voice, it was hard to tell if he was sad about it or didn’t really care. “As your wingwoman, should I help you go after her?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay, she was a little boring.”

“Got it,” You responded with a quick nod. “Can we get a drink now? Talking to that asshole sobered me up too much.”

Steve glanced at the bar. “Eddie’s supposed to be on in five minutes and the bar looks even more crowded than it was ten minutes ago.”

It was your turn to look in that direction and you immediately knew that with the amount of people surrounding the counter, you and Steve would be waiting there for much longer than just a few minutes.

“Fuck,” You mumbled and then looked back at Steve. “Okay, let’s go back to Robin and Vickie. Aside from helping to get that random guy away from me, I’m even more glad you’re here right now because I fully don’t remember where we were standing.”

“I had a feeling that would happen too,” He said with a small laugh before slipping his hand into yours and leading you toward your other two friends.

There was no way you would’ve been able to find the semi-secluded corner near the stage that Robin and Vickie were standing by if it weren’t for Steve, and you made a mental note to not leave his side for the rest of the time all of you were at The Hideout.

“Woah, no drinks?” Robin said when she noticed you two. She and Vickie were holding hands and once again seeing them in their matching vampire costumes made your heart squeeze at how adorable they were. “Are you two actually gonna be sober like us for the night?”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening. But, I do promise that I’ll be the best and most functional drunk person ever so you don’t get super annoyed with me,” You said, smiling at her, and when Steve laughed at your words, you playfully elbowed him.

“I love you, truly, but I kinda doubt that will happen,” Robin responded but still smiled back at you. “Oh, also, like five minutes ago, Vickie ran into this girl she knows and she told us about this party happening two towns over. We should go to it after Eddie’s set.”

“I don’t know the guy throwing it, but apparently, his house is huge,” Vickie chimed in and you nodded.

That was probably one of your favorite parts about this stupid little holiday; how quickly plans could change or be adjusted, and most of the time it would lead to you having more fun than you had initially anticipated. And plus you’d rather have free drinks at the house of this random guy than buy more at this bar or any other one.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The time was inching closer and closer to midnight and the party seemed as if it was at its absolute peak. So much so that Vickie had to park on a completely different block because of how crowded with cars the actual street was.

Steve was carrying you on his back as you all walked to the house; he had been reluctant at first but ultimately couldn’t say no to your persistent “pleases.”

“This reminds me of last Halloween when your feet were hurting because of your shoes, so I also gave you a piggyback ride then,” He said and then glanced down. “This time you’re wearing sneakers, though, so this feels a little unnecessary.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “This is always necessary, Steven.”

Robin and Vickie were a few feet behind you two, hands intertwined as they went into a conversation that went unheard by you and Seve because you were laughing at him saying that him carrying you right then proved why he should’ve been Batman tonight.

“And they’ve never dated before?” Vickie asked and Robin immediately shook her head.

“No, it’s never happened. It’s weird. They’re weird,” She answered as she continued looking at you and Steve. Sometimes she felt as if the idea of you two dating was something that she could see as clear as day— it did seem like it would just make so much sense. But nothing ever happened, and at this point of knowing the two of you, she honestly didn’t think it ever would. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.”

Vickie laughed a bit at her girlfriend’s words. “Aw, well, I think they’d be cute.”

It was only thirty minutes into the four of you being at the party and you could finally say that you were no longer just tipsy. You’d probably end up regretting this in the morning because of the hangover that was imminent, but right then, you were glad you were drunk because it finally made your pants feel completely bearable. And Steve was as intoxicated as you were, maybe even more so because it somehow took little to no convincing to get him to play dumb games with you.

It started out as truth or dare, but then one of the dares was to do a round of hide and seek, and then you decided to do more rounds of it because since both of you were drunk, it made the childish game even more fun to play. And since you were in a place that you two were completely unfamiliar with, it also made it funnier to play.

You weren’t sure whose turn it had been— who was the hider and who was the seeker— but you and Steve somehow ended up outside in the backyard, lying side by side on the grass and staring up at the sky. And you were laughing at a joke that you now couldn’t remember if it had been you or Steve who told it— you honestly couldn’t even recall the joke itself, but you just knew it had been funny.

You shifted and turned on your side to face Steve and after a moment he did the same.

“Thank you. For always being there for me,” You told him and then lifted your head so that you could kiss him on the cheek. “You’re quite literally the best person in my life.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his lips. “You always get so sentimental when you’re drunk.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s the only time I let myself get super cheesy with you, Stevie.” Your drunkest of moments were also usually the only times when that nickname would come out. “But, I do hope you know that even though I don’t say it all the time, I always do feel this way. I always think about how insanely fucking glad I am to have you in my life.”

“Don’t worry, I know.” He nodded at you and then smiled wider. “And I’m insanely fucking glad to have you in my life too.”

He was Steve. Your Steve. Your best friend Steve. The Robin to your Batman. That couldn’t change. Ever.

So, why the fuck did you get the sudden urge to kiss him on the mouth instead of that all-too-familiar spot on his cheek again?

Of course, you didn’t do it, and, of course, neither did Steve. Instead, a silence settled over the two of you for a bit.

“Come on, let’s head back in,” Steve said after a few moments. Somehow he was always the logical one in moments like these.

Still, though, you felt the tiniest bit disappointed. But, you’d completely forget about that feeling, that fleeting thought, by the morning.

Steve stood first and then reached out to pull you up. One of your hands was still intertwined with his when you walked back into the house.

The party was still in full swing, and when the front door opened and a handful of new people walked in, that didn’t necessarily shock you. But it did make you smile widely at the people coming in because you recognized a familiar face.

“Eddie!” You immediately went over to him, practically falling into his arms as you hugged him.

Since, due to your drunkenness, you’d actually forgotten that you all told him about the party after his band finished their set and he said he’d meet you there later, it felt like so much more of a coincidental, happy accident that he was there right then. You weren’t even fazed by his zombie costume, which had freaked you a little earlier because of how good and realistic it looked.

“Hi!” He exclaimed, matching your enthusiasm while also smiling and laughing at your current antics. “You’re drunk.” He then looked at Steve who was behind you. “Wow, and you are too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Eddie laughed a bit. “I can just see it all over you, Harrington.”

You stopped paying attention to their conversation and let your mind wander as you looked around at all of the random people in the house that were dancing and laughing with their friends.

I should get another drink.

“That’s a bad idea,” Eddie said to you.

You laughed as you looked at him. “I didn’t even realize I said that out loud.”

“Another reason why both of you need to be cut off for the rest of the night.”

You knew that he was right, but that didn’t mean that you had to outwardly agree with him. Instead, you smiled at him and said, “I never thought I’d see the day where Edward Munson became the mom of the group.”

“Sometimes I like to turn over a new leaf,” He gave you a wry smile back and then poked your side which only made you laugh. “Where are Robin and Vickie?”

“That’s a good question,” Steve said and looked around for a quick second before meeting your eyes. “Do you remember the last time we saw them?”

“I’m pretty sure it was right before we started playing truth or dare,” You answered and tried to think about exactly how long ago that was, but failed to do so because your memory felt too fuzzy right then. “I have no perception of time right now, so that could’ve been hours ago, honestly.”

“It’s actually kind of funny how you two always somehow end up playing that game whenever we go to parties,” Eddie said.

Steve shrugged. “It’s a stupidly fun game to play when drunk.”

“We also played a lot of hide and seek tonight,” You added and smiled.

Eddie only shook his head and laughed a bit.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eddie, if you’re feeling left out, we can play another round of hide and seek with you.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

“Oh, there they are,” Steve said, and when you looked in the direction of where he was pointing, you saw Robin and Vickie sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the movie that was playing on the huge television. The most random scene was on right then, and the sound coming from the TV could not be heard over the loud music that was playing throughout the house, but you immediately recognized the movie as Friday the 13th; which was actually pretty fitting because even though it wasn’t literally Friday the 13th, it was at least a Friday.

You then realized that the time was probably so far past midnight, so maybe it actually wasn’t fitting anymore. But, it was still a Halloween party, so technically any scary movie could work.

Your mind then started listing off other scary movies you didn’t mind watching— Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining— and you suddently couldn’t remember why you were even thinking about scary movies in the first place.

Eddie was definitely right; you really didn’t need another drink.

“Hey,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Eddie was now sitting with Robin and Vickie and watching the silently playing movie with them, and you and Steve were turned around leaning back against the couch. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Batman?”

You laughed for no particular reason aside from how nice it felt to do so right then.

“I think I’m starting to hit my peak. So, I need to capitalize off of this feeling before things start going downhill and I start begging Vickie to take us home so that I can pass out in bed.” You looked up at Steve and met his eyes. “Are you down for a few more rounds of hide and seek?”

His mouth quirked upward in a small smile. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt like you were choking, and that feeling was what pulled you out of your sleep. Your eyes were still closed as you reached up to touch your throat and immediately felt that your cape was still buttoned around your neck, but it felt so much tighter than how it did last night.

Your eyes opened just a bit and you saw Steve sleeping next to you, and you also noticed that you were in his room. He was on top of the blanket, still fully in his Robin costume, and you were under the covers. Somehow your cape had gotten tangled up underneath the pillow Steve was laying on. You groaned as you unbuttoned it, finally breathing normally.

You shut your eyes again, trying to will yourself back to sleep because you felt like you could use a thousand more hours. But, for some reason, you couldn’t fall asleep, and instead all your mind could focus on was Steve’s soft snoring.

Anytime you two ended up sleeping in the same bed or same room, his snoring rarely ever annoyed you, but this time it managed to do the opposite. And now you also needed to pee.

With a sigh, you got out of the bed and padded over to Steve’s bathroom. You kept the light off because you refused to see how you looked right then, and also because the abrupt brightness would’ve only contributed to your growing headache.

Steve was awake when you exited the bathroom. He was on his back, eyes open as he looked up at the ceiling.

“You almost woke up next to a corpse,” You told him, your voice actually sounding much more hoarse than you expected it to be.

He turned to look at you. “I feel like a corpse.”

“You were sleeping on my cape. I was almost strangled to death.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“I don’t really understand why we didn’t change out of our costumes when we got home. I also don’t remember why I decided to sleep in your bed,” You said as you got back in bed and pulled the blanket over you again. You tried to think back to last night, when you and Steve got back to the apartment, but right then it felt too hard to put the pieces of what happened together and you felt too hungover to do so. “Where are my pants?”

“I slightly remember you saying something about how much you “fucking hated them,” so you took them off before you got in my bed,” Steve answered.

You laughed. “Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar.”

He sat up, letting out a tired groan in the process, and started getting out of bed. “I need a shower.”

“Me too,” You agreed with a nod but still leaned back and let your head fall against the pillow. “But, I also really wanna go back to sleep.”

“We can be lazy on the couch all day,” Steve suggested. “Watch random sitcoms and order takeout for lunch and dinner.”

His words were enough to get you of the bed and you smiled at him. “I love that idea.”

It wasn’t until you were in your room that you finally noticed that the time was somehow only nine in the morning. A part of you felt like it should be illegal for you to be up this early after the night you’d had, but your shower was helpful at washing away most of your tiredness and dull headache.

When you emerged from your bathroom thirty minutes later wearing your favorite hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you smelled coffee in the kitchen.

“You’re awesome. You’re amazing. I love you. Thank you so much,” You said to Steve when you walked into the kitchen and he handed you a warm mug.

“No problem,” He told you before taking a long sip from his own mug. “Also, while I was in the shower I had a thought; no more drinking for us. Not until Thanksgiving when we have to deal with our families, and alcohol is the only thing that will make getting through that holiday bearable.”

You nodded at that. “I completely agree.”

You were about to open the fridge to grab the carton of milk so that you could add some to your coffee, when you noticed the new polaroid picture that was hanging on it, pinned up by the Statue of Liberty magnet you and Steve got in New York when you took a trip there back in June.

“When did we take this picture?”

Steve looked at the polaroid and his eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly can’t remember.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We look so drunk, holy shit.”

So drunk but also so happy. Your cheeks were squished together so that you both could fit in the frame and happy drunk smiles took over your faces. You could tell by how much of a close up the picture was that you were the one that took it.

It was a little funny, but also sort of fitting, seeing that picture among the other ones already on the fridge— including a group photo of the kids when they spent the night over at the apartment just a week ago, and one of Eddie smiling and holding your and Steve’s shared pet hamster, Harold.

You grabbed the black Sharpie that was someohw always sitting on the kitchen counter— perhaps it was for this exact reason— and you wrote on the empty white space at the bottom of the new polaroid.

Halloween ‘85. Batman & Robin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

375 notes · View notes