#Fresh Voices Scholarship

[angela-yuriko-smith]

Ai Jiang Versus AI, and Her Book I AM AI

Ai Jiang is a Chinese-Canadian writer, a Nebula Award finalist, and an immigrant from Fujian. She is a member of HWA, SFWA, and Codex. Her work can be found in F&SF, The Dark, Uncanny, among others. She is the recipient of Odyssey Workshop’s 2022 Fresh Voices Scholarship and the author of Linghun and I AM AI. Find her on Twitter (@AiJiang_) and online (http://aijiang.ca).   Preorder I AM AI:…

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — ten: the nishimura siblings are so back

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

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姉 (ane) = older sister in japanese

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” You huff as you help carry your little brother’s suitcases.

“But you loveeee me!” Riki’s irritating voice rings through the air, and although you want to smack him in the head for being such a nuisance, you’re genuinely so happy that he’s finally with you once again.

Unlike you, he wasn’t given a Decelis scholarship until months ago, which meant when you went to Korea at the fresh age of fourteen, only knowing your aunt who lived there because of work.

“Can we get ramyeon?” Riki questions, only to get hit in the head by you. “Ow!”

“Yah, I picked you up at 4 in the morning at the airport and you want me to get you ramyeon?!”

Riki raises his hands in surrender, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Geez, you could’ve just said no.”

“Shut up and put your suitcase in the trunk!” You turn around to inspect him one more time. “And since when did you get so tall?”

He grins. “I’m 6’2 now, much taller than you.”

You raise your hand once again, and he quickly puts away his suitcases knowing you might smack him again if he keeps teasing you.

Then in classic Riki fashion, the 6’2 boy giddily runs to the passenger seat when he’s done.

You turn on the engine, quietly admiring the quiet early morning glow.

“So ane, you got a boyfriend?”

It was going to be a long ride home.

As soon as Riki got settled into his new room, he was quickly asleep, his quiet snores filling the room.

“You sure you can go to school tomorrow Y/Nie?” Your aunt asks you with a concerned look. “If you’re too tired from picking Riki-kun, you can always take a day off, you’ve been working hard anyways.”

You smile gratefully at your aunt, but slowly shake your head. “It’s okay auntie, I can’t miss a day of studies.”

“You study too hard.” The woman mutters before patting your back and heading back to bed.

When you got to school, Heeseung immediately greets you at the door. He usually wasn’t early, which perked your interest.

You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing to ignore him and walk by instead of acknowledging his wave.

He frowns. “Hey, hey, what’s up?” He says, suddenly standing in front of you.

“Nothing Heeseung.” You say, trying to walk pass him to no avail.

“I didn’t see you at the party yesterday, who drove you home?”

“Not like it was any of your business but Sunghoon.”

You could feel Heeseung tense up by your words. “Sunghoon?”

“That’s what I said.”

Heeseung scoffs, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “The same one who went with Hanni right after your little rooftop hangout, right? That Sunghoon?”

“Why does it matter?” You say exasperatedly. “You are no better than him.”

You finally are able to push past him, making him stumble back in shock.

“Y/N? Hey! What do you mean?”

You have never felt more grateful for the bell than you did at that moment, which signaled the beginning of first period.

Heeseung’s shoulders slump in defeat, feet turning around to go to his physics class, which was on the opposite side of your first class, creative writing.

You enter, scanning the room for a free seat. The class was a first come first serve regarding seating, so everyday was basically a fight for a good seat.

The only free seat was next to Sunghoon, who was already looking at you.

“Get a good sleep?” He asks, but you stay silent.

Suddenly, he leans closer and closer toward your face—until—

“You got an eyelash,” he whispers before taking it off your face.

You try not to blush, not wanting Sunghoon to see how even his little actions affected you.

“Why are you being nice to me Sunghoon?” You say with a sigh, looking directly into his eyes.

“Cause why wouldn’t I?”

The professor enters the room a second later, already beginning today’s lesson.

And although you and Sunghoon don’t say anything else, the silence is enough for the both of you.

AUTHOR’s NOTE: nishimura siblings alr friendly bickering yess and ynhoon??

[ashwhowrites]

Yay! Your requests are open!

So, Eddie and Reader have just gotten together, and they're riding high, honeymoon phase.

Then Steve opens his big mouth and admits he slept with Reader before he got together with Nancy, so it was a long time ago and just a drunken hook up, but he jokes that Reader seemed to have the time of her life and "you have some to live up to Eddie!"

So then Eddie decides (typical guy) that he's going to uppe Steve and asks how many times Steve made Reader cum and she says "three times - two times during foreplay and once during the sex" and Eddie says "Then be ready for at least four times, baby," and I leave up to you what he does but smut ensues

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️smut, rough sex, more smut

3? Give me 4

Eddie already knew he was a jealous person. He'd been jealous of people and things ever since he was young. He was jealous of the kids with new shoes and clean clothes. He was jealous of their toys and homes. Even as he got older he was jealous of how school seemed to be to people. He was jealous of the popular kids and their ride to college based on scholarships.

Then he got someone that other people would be jealous of. His beauty of a girl, Y/N. She was gorgeous and everyone knew that. For once Eddie didn't have to deal with jealousy, he caused it for others.

He and Y/N went at it teens in a horror film. It didn't matter where they were, they'd find somewhere to get busy. The relationship was fresh, so it was all love and lust. Two things Eddie loved that went together.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom," Y/N said, leaning over to peck Eddie's cheek. He watched in awe as she got up and walked off, his eyes didn't leave her until Steve spoke up.

"You're like a puppy dog for her, dude." Steve laughed, shoving a handful of fries in his mouth. Eddie turned to look at him, cringing as small amounts of fries spilled out of Steve's mouth.

"You'd understand if you were with her." Eddie snickered, taking a messy bite of his burger.

"I have been," Steve shrugged, not understanding the weight of his words. He was oblivious to the death stare Eddie gave him. "We hooked up way before I got with Nancy. We were drunk, and found each other."

"Excuse me?" Eddie glared, he could feel that burning jealousy enter his body again.

"Oh yeah, from what I can remember the girl had the time of her life. Looks like you have some to live up to, Eddie." Steve joked, reaching across the table to give Eddie a small punch in the shoulder.

Steve Harrington fucked his girlfriend, how the hell could he compete with that?

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked as she sat next to Eddie. She could feel how intense the tension was.

"Yes, these fries are delicious," Steve said, no idea of the tension.

"Eddie?" Y/N whispered as she squeezed his thigh

"Good" he choked out, but his mind was already spinning.

~

Y/N could sense something was wrong with Eddie as they silently drove to his trailer.

"Eddie, can you tell me what is wrong?" Y/N asked for another time, sighing as they walked into the empty and dark trailer.

Eddie flicked on the light and shrugged out of his jacket. Y/N tried not to stare as his toned arms came into view and the ink of his tattoos.

"You fucked King Steve?" Eddie snapped, his question barely was a question.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face. Steve was an idiot.

"Eddie that was ages ago. Way before we even knew each other. Steve and I are just friends." She explained, she walked closer to him. When he didn't move she took it as a green light. She hooked her arms around his neck and placed her forehead on his. "Trust me, you make me feel way better than he ever did."

"How many times did King Steve make you cum?"

Y/N felt her breath get caught in her throat. Eddie's eyes were clouded with lust, making his eyes almost black. His voice was challenging Steve, and it made her thighs clench.

Eddie didn't appreciate her silence, his right hand roughly tugged her hair. She gasped as her head was yanked back, Eddie's hot breath fanning her neck.

"I asked," He started, his teeth lightly nipping at her skin, "you a question, baby." She tried to think of words, but she was so turned on that all she could think about was Eddie's pulsing cock being drilled into her.

"Three times," Y/N moaned, Eddie's mouth sucking harshly on her skin, "two-two times during foreplay," she shivered as Eddie's left hand trailed down her body. "And once during sex."

Eddie dropped his hand from her hair, moving both his hands to land on the back of her thighs. She squealed as he picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He placed her on the counter, smirking as he stood between her legs. He reached forward and rubbed her bottom lip.

"Then be ready for at least four times, baby," Eddie whispered.

Y/N went to clench her thighs again but squeezed Eddie since he stood between her legs.

"Oh? Is this turning you on?" he teased, his thumb yanked down her bottom lip. Watched as it snapped back into place, moving his hands down to her thighs.

"Touch me, please." She begged

She shivered as Eddie laughed, he leaned in so he was nose to nose. His lips were inches from hers as she stared with her mouth open.

"Don't worry, I'll touch you. I'll touch you everywhere until you are shaking and crying for my cock. Make that pretty pussy so desperate to be filled. Then I'm going to fuck you like a whore." Eddie's voice was dark and deep as he stepped back and tore off his shirt.

Y/N felt like she never had a chance to catch her breath. From his words, his hands, and now his naked chest. She reached forward, impatiently touching his skin as she trailed her nails from his chest to his stomach. She was locked on his belt, working fast as she tugged the leather through the loops and threw it to the floor.

She froze as Eddie's hands gripped her hands, quick to slam them against the wall above her head. She tugged but his grip was too tight.

"Eddie please," she whined

Eddie let her hands go, but his eyes told her not to move. He unbuttoned her jeans, lifting up her hips as he yanked down her pants. He tossed them to the floor, then his fingers teased her underwear band. She shivered as he ran in fingers back and forth, her stomach moving fast as she panted.

She sighed in relief when he got rid of her underwear, her cunt bare and on display. She watched with heavy eyes as he dropped to his knees, his eyes level with her wet cunt.

"Even more gorgeous than last time," he whispered, taking his time to lean in. Inhaling her sweet scent. "Smell so addicting"

She moaned as she realized he was talking to her cunt itself.

"Yes," she moaned and threw her head back against the wall when Eddie's tongue ran through her folds. "Fuck that's it" Her hands moved to his hair.

He loved it when she tugged at his curls so he allowed the movement. He was determined to fuck out her brains. He flattened his tongue and ran it up and down her cunt.

"More baby, please," Y/N begged

Eddie smirked against her cunt, loving how desperate she was for him. He pushed two fingers inside of her, moaning as they got soaked immediately. He slipped his fingers in and out, her cunt clenching around him as his mouth began to suck on her clit.

She purred as she clawed at his hair. The sight alone of her sexy boyfriend in between her thighs made her shake. Eddie had nothing to be jealous of, but she'd play along if he continued to fuck her the way he was.

His mouth was brutal on her clit, sucking and biting. And his fingers moved at a rapid pace, he slipped in a third finger.

"Love feeling those rings inside of me," She moaned out. The sound of her tired voice and comment made Eddie's cock pulse. He used his free hand to add a little pressure on his jeans.

Eddie kept his fingers moving inside of her but pulled away his mouth. "Yeah? I bet pretty boy didn't wear rings and couldn't finger you this deep."

Y/N couldn't respond, all she could give was broken moans as she felt a build-up. She could hear how wet she was as Eddie's fingers moved in and out of her.

"I know that look, you ready to cum huh?" Eddie smirked, moving forward to suck harshly on her clit. He moaned as she gripped his hair even tighter, he found pleasure in the burning of his roots.

She let out a loud pornographic moan as her thighs clenched around his head. He kept sucking, not letting up as he felt her thighs shake around his head. Adding to the orgasm he slipped a fourth finger in, stretching her open.

"GOD" she screamed as she soaked his fingers. She moved her hips against his fingers and tongue as she shook from the aftermath of her orgasm. She rode it out until the feeling settled down.

Eddie softly kissed her clit, slipping out his fingers. He pressed kisses to her thighs before standing back up.

"Open" he demanded, but she was so fucked out she didn't hear a thing. Her head hung forward and her body still shook.

Eddie clenched his jaw and used his clean hand to grip her neck, forcing her head up. Her eyes were wide with lust as she looked at him. She loved when Eddie manhandled her, the way he forced her body to do what he wanted.

She opened her mouth, and Eddie smiled.

"Good girl," he cooed, then roughly shoved his wet fingers in her mouth. She gagged at first, his long fingers hitting her throat. She regained herself and started to suck his fingers clean. Once Eddie was satisfied he pulled his fingers out.

"I want you naked and on my bed, now," Eddie growled

Y/N slipped off the counter, her legs wobbly as she landed on her feet. She walked the best she could, Eddie landed a slap on her bare ass making her jump.

Eddie grabbed their clothes, not wanting Wayne to find them. He threw them in a ball in his bedroom as he walked in. Y/N flat on the bed as she looked at him.

She stared as he kicked off his pants, and then slipped off his boxers. She whimpered as his hard, red, and thick cock came into view. No matter how many times she had seen Eddie naked and in all his glory, he always took her breath away.

Eddie soaked in her attention, slightly blushing at the way she drooled over his cock. He smirked proudly as he walked forward, her eyes watched as he walked past her grabbing the handcuffs from his wall.

She sat silent as he grabbed her wrist, giving it a soft kiss before he cuffed her to the bed, Then he reached over and did her other wrist. He stepped back, hand on his cock as he softly rubbed himself as he looked at her. She was cuffed to his bed, all at his mercy.

Eddie crawled on the bed, enjoying the way her breathing picked up with excitement.

"You want more, huh?" Eddie asked, his hands rubbed the inside of her thighs, and she spread them open. He smiled at how obedient she was.

"You want this?" He asked, smacking his cock against her inner thigh

"Yes, please," she begged, the heat of his cock against her thigh making her brain fuzzy. She was so captivated by him and everything he did.

Eddie smiled at her manners. He placed his cock inside his folds, his cock flat against her clit. She whined in protest as he began to rub his cock against her, but not inside of her.

He rubbed himself against her, sighing at the relief. He loved watching his cock rub between her folds, she fit perfectly around him.

"Eddie, please," she whimpered

Eddie leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Y/N moaned as she kissed him back. His right hand cupped her cheek, kissing her hard and deep as his cock rubbed against her.

He pulled back but kept his lips close to hers.

"One more before you get my cock in you, pretty girl."

Y/N cried against his lips but accepted it. She pressed her lips against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He hummed as she explored his mouth, loving the way she took some control.

The lazy make-out and the feeling of his cock rubbing against her clit had her stomach building again. Her hands yanked on the cuffs, craving to touch his skin. Eddie kept his tongue in her mouth as he reached down, he removed his cock and replaced it with his hand.

Ruthlessly rubbing her clit as she spazzed under him. He could hear the clink of the cuffs, and feel her body squirming. He pulled away from the kiss, a look in his eye that told her she better cum.

She arched her back as her second orgasm washed over her, stronger than the first.

Eddie was gentle as he rubbed her through it, waiting until she fell flat against the bed. He kissed up her arms, praising her.

He unhooked the cuffs, and her touch was on him in seconds. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she gripped him. Eddie gave her lips a few soft kisses, giving time for her body to relax.

Once she got her breath, it was ripped out of her lungs. Eddie pushed his cock fully inside of her, her walls tight around him as she choked out a cry.

"God you always feel so good," Eddie moaned, "nothing I love more than being inside you." His husky voice made Y/N claw at his shoulders. Why did everything this boy did turn her on?

She gasped as he fucked her hard, the bedframe smacking the wall as he puffed through his clenched teeth. He eyed her chest, loving the way her breasts moved with his thrusts.

"Who owns this pretty pussy?" Eddie asked, his left hand wrapped around her neck. She gasped as her breath was caught. His right hand gripped the headboard.

"Y-yours" she choked out through his grip. Her body was on fire and she could feel her skin glistened in sweat.

"Louder" he demanded, his cock hit the right spot. She cried out and he knew he hit the spot. He continued to hit that spot, angeling his hips.

"Yours," she said louder, his grip loosened and she took that time to refill her lungs. "All yours" she cried, tears in her eyes when his fingers touched her clit. Her clit burned, felt raw as he rubbed it with no mercy.

Eddie kept seeing that stupid look on Steve's face, pushing him to fuck her harder. He wasn't sure how much more his wall could take as the headboard began to chip away at the paint.

"That's it, baby. Squeeze me just like that" Eddie shivered as her pussy squeezed around him. She did a few times, each time pushing him further to exploding.

"Eddieeeee" she whined, her voice cracking as she choked on her sobs. She slapped his shoulder, trying to signal.

"You want to cum? Hm? Gonna be a whore and cum all over my cock?" He asked, his breath was hot as his words smacked her face. The smell of weed, sweat, and sex filled the room. She couldn't answer, just nodded as she felt her stomach snap.

Eddie hissed as her nails drew blood as she came. She clenched him so tight that he could barely move, he rubbed her clit to work her through it.

Y/N felt her body loosen, leaving Eddie's cock free to move. She thought he would slip out and give her a mini break in between, but she was wrong. The second Eddie's cock was free, he was pounding into her all over again.

"EDDIE I CAN'T" she cried, but no movement to push him away. Her cunt was used and abused. Begging for a break, but continued to welcome Eddie in.

"Yes, you can, just one more." He said through his teeth. Sweat was building under his bangs as he felt his own orgasm approaching. He slipped out of her for a second, flipping her on her stomach.

Her body was jelly as he gripped her hips and shoved her ass in the air. Her face was down against the sheets, screaming when his cock slammed back into her.

Eddie growled at the new sight, slapping down on her ass as he fucked her. He moaned with delight as her ass jiggled and turned red. He reached his arms forward, yanking her body up flat against his.

Her back arched as he pounded inside of her, his hands playing with her breasts. Gripping and tugging.

"Close, baby girl" Eddie warned, puffing as his balls smacked against her skin. He gripped her breasts as he felt his stomach getting ready to snap.

"Cum in me, make me yours. Fill me up, Eddie. Fill my whore pussy," she said, her dirty words affecting Eddie immediately as he emptied himself inside of her.

From the first three orgasms, Y/N's body was done. She had no control over what she felt. She didn't even know she needed to cum again until she felt herself squirting.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK" she screamed, her hips bucking forward, this caught Eddie's attention. He looked over her shoulder, watching as her squirt covered his pillows.

"Oh that's hot" he moaned, his hand instantly rubbing her clit. Making her squirt harder. He didn't mind the mess, he loved how much she covered his pillows. He gave a few sloppy thrusts, pushing his cum further inside of her.

"Done," she said, barely speaking as her voice was dead. She tapped Eddie's arm.

"Such a good girl, you did so good for me." He praised, slowly removing himself. He gently moved her body down away from the stained pillows, laying her on her back as her eyes drifted close.

"Love you," she mumbled. Eddie chuckled and pecked her lips.

"I love you," he said, he kissed every inch of her skin. Her breathing got deeper as she fell asleep.

Eddie slipped on clean boxers and began to clean her up. He couldn't help but stare as he covered her with a blanket. He had no idea how he got that lucky to be with her. And for her to be so in love with him.

Eddie took another look at his stained pillows, removing the cases so he could wash them. He smirked as he held them in his hands, wait until Steve heard about this.

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[inkcurlsandknives]

Every writer I know has had that one English teacher who encouraged thier talent and helped them find thier voice. The one they dedicate a book to or send them a signed copy years later. Meanwhile, I had Mr. Fish-Breath (name redacted, new name given because he would not stay out of female student's personal space and had the WORST fish-breath) my high school English teacher who was determined to "Shake things up" and be hip and cool by forcing us to present ted-talks and operate blogs about classic literature. He also believed in never giving A student's A's. Which as a student gunning for academic scholarships with an asian mom was a capital offence anyway. During one of his funky, fresh writing assignments that I had BUSTED MY ASS ON I went to his class after hours to try to talk my B+ into an A- because I was not bringing that shit home and TO MY FACE! He Lowered the grade and told me "Your over-effusive use of language tricked me into giving you a higher grade than you deserved." Out of PURE UNADULTERATED SPITE since that moment I have remined a deeply effusive writer, and now my lush and lyrical novel Saints of Storm and Sorrow is out in the world. So Mr. Fish-Breath can eat crow.

If there's any advice I'm willing to give out about publishing and making it as a writer, its that doing it for spite will get you just as far or farther than dreams in my experience.

[mellowsadistic]

The Magician's Game - Chapter 1

Five women become the playthings of a man calling himself the Magician. Using his powers, he forces them to go through a series of humiliatingly childish challenges, with infantilizing and permanent consequences for the losers. Inspired by the sadly discontinued season one of The Humble Games by Parker Longabaugh.

***

One moment Abigail was sitting at a bar, sending seductive looks over at the handsome man sitting across from her (and receiving looks of hatred in return from the woman sat next to him), and the next moment she was sitting on a hard-backed wooden chair in a large, brightly lit, luxuriously furnished hall. She blinked. What the hell was going on? Looking around, she saw that four other disoriented women were sitting in chairs in a row beside hers, and in front of them stood a man. He was tall, dark haired, and strangely ageless. He could have been thirty or fifty - it was impossible to tell. He wore a well-tailored black suit and the hint of a smirk on his handsome face.

“Hello ladies,” he said. His voice was deep, and Abby felt a pleasant tingling in her pussy. If she wasn’t more alarmed about her sudden transportation to this unfamiliar place, he was definitely the sort of man she’d be trying to pry away from his wife and take home with her. “Thank you all for coming.”

A woman a couple of places away from Abby was the first to recover. Her short dark hair and mannish suit gave her a somewhat androgynous look. “What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was severe and authoritative. “Where are we?”

“You’re in my home,” the man responded politely.

“Who are you? How did-”

“Why don’t I do introductions?” he interrupted mildly, and without waiting for an answer he gestured towards a girl on the end of the row with straw-coloured hair, a black crop-top that showed off her slim, well-toned stomach, and a pair of skinny jeans. “This is little miss Susie Taylor, a third-year know-it-all university student who worked hard to earn a scholarship just so she could get away from her controlling mother.”

The girl called Susie went red. Know-it-all?! But more alarmingly, how did he know that about her? Was he some sort of stalker? Had he drugged her at university and abducted her to his mansion?

The man moved on to the next woman, a beautiful lady with long, white-blonde hair and very large breasts that were shown off classily by her elegant dress. There was something a little snobbish about the disdainful way she glanced at the other girls. “And this is miss Katherine Bower-Thomas, a fashion model from a rather well-to-do family who’s widely considered to be one of the most difficult people to work with in the whole industry, on account of her self-entitlement and overall bitchiness.”

Katherine blushed as well. How dare he! She would normally have given this man a piece of her mind, if she weren’t still so wrong-footed by what had just happened. One moment she'd been strutting down the catwalk at her latest fashion show, and the next...

“And here we have miss Madelyn Smith,” the man went on. He was indicating the dark haired, severe woman who had spoken earlier. “A lecturer in feminist theory who detests vapid bimbos more than anything, and who loves nothing more than to inflict the people around her with long rants about the evils of the patriarchy.”

Madelyn scowled furiously, but restrained herself for the moment. She didn’t understand what was going on here. She could have sworn she’d just been about to give a lecture on early feminist literature. Had she been hypnotised? Was this some kind of reality TV show? If so she was going to sue the producers into oblivion!

“And this little cutie is miss Becky Lewis.” The man pointed at the girl sitting next to Abby. She seemed to be the youngest there, pretty, and dressed in a plain white top and a skirt, her chestnut-brown hair tied up in a ponytail. “She’s fresh out of school and working part-time at her local daycare, where she has a reputation for being especially nasty to the poor little boys and girls. She just can’t stand changing nappies!” The man laughed at that, as if he knew some secret joke that they didn’t.

Becky squirmed nervously in her seat. It wasn’t her fault those stupid little brats were so disgusting! She’d been enjoying a day off from cleaning up after those annoying little rugrats before she’d suddenly found herself here.

“And finally we come to miss Abigail Reid, a very naughty girl who lives off her boyfriend’s money even while she repeatedly cheats on him behind his back. Definitely someone who deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

Abby flushed, and found her voice. “How do you know – I mean, what makes you think I need to be ‘taken down a peg or two’?” she demanded.

“Well sweetie, I’m very good with wishes, you see,” he said, smiling at her. His dark eyes glinted unsettlingly, as if there was light behind them. “And dozens of people have wished for you to be put in your place.” He looked around at the others with a smile. “The same goes for all of you.”

“You still haven’t told us who you are!” Katherine complained, lifting her head haughtily. “Or how we got here!”

“You can call me the Magician, sweetheart. And I brought you here by magic. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Excuse me,” Madelyn said sneeringly. “But that’s not really an explanation, is it? I don’t care who you are, but you are going to be in serious trouble. I hope you’re looking forward to going to prison, because you’ve brought us here without our consent and-”

“Hush now, sweetie,” the Magician interrupted. “A man is talking. Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

For a moment, Madelyn couldn’t believe her ears. Then she leapt out of her chair and launched into a furious tirade. “How dare you! Women are not your property, you chauvinist! This is so typical of a man.” She turned to the others. “This is exactly the kind of male attitude I spend my life fighting against. Men always think that what they have to say is more important than anything we might have to offer. It’s patriarchal social conswucts wike dese dat pwesent women as overgwown childwen!”

The other girls stared at her in shock. Madelyn blushed bright red. What was wrong with her voice?! Then she realised that her thumb was planted firmly between her lips, garbling her speech. She was sucking on it rhythmically, making loud wet smacking sounds, looking for all the world like an overgrown four-year-old. She tried to pull it out, but something stopped her – it was as if her thumb was being drawn magnetically into her mouth! Her eyes wide with fear, she whined and looked desperately at the others for help.

“That’s better,” said the Magician. “Daddy doesn’t need to listen to silly little girls who think they know best. I hope you enjoy your new thumbsucking habit, Maddy, because it’s not going away any time soon. Sucking on things is a much better use for a woman’s mouth than all your silly bitching.”

Madelyn looked frightened, and started sucking her thumb even more frantically, but Susie just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly, getting up as well. “This is all just some kind of trick!” She looked disparagingly at Katherine, Becky, and Abby, all three of whom were looking scared. “You don’t actually believe in magic do you? He’s just some stupid stage magician or something, and she’s obviously with him.” She gestured at Madelyn, who frantically shook her head from side to side, looking furious. The Magician’s smile widened.

The other girls stared at Susie, but they weren’t paying much attention to her words. As she spoke, her outfit was beginning to change. Her black crop-top turned pastel pink and began to lengthen, its sleeves becoming puffy and frilly. Two pink ribbons appeared out of thin air and began tying her straw-blonde hair into pigtails.

“I spent my whole childhood living under some petty tyrant,” Susie went on obliviously, “and I can promise you that they don’t have any real power.”

Her jeans melted away, rising up her legs and transforming into a tiny pink skirt that wasn’t even long enough to hide the white cotton, baby-duck patterned underwear that had just replaced her panties. Her socks became ruffled, and her trainers turned into black Mary Janes.

“I don’t know how he got us here, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to stop us just walking out, so why don’t we…” Susie broke off. “What are you all looking at?!” she demanded angrily. Then she caught sight of herself in the large mirror that dominated one of the walls, and she let out a girlish shriek.

She stared at her new outfit in disbelief. Not two minutes ago she’d been dressed like a stylish college student, and now she looked ready to head off to kindergarten.

“H-how did you…?” Susie looked at the Magician, her face now full of fear.

“Much better!” he announced happily. “Those silly grown-up clothes were doing you no good at all, Susie. This is a much more appropriate look for you. Now, does anyone else want to interrupt me, or can I continue with my explanation?”

There was silence from the women, apart from the sound of Madelyn sucking noisily on her thumb. Susie was frozen, terrified the Magician would do something else to her. She didn’t want to end up as a thumbsucker too.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, you naughty girls are well overdue some corrective punishment. So I thought we’d have a little competition. A fun little game. The five of you will go through a series of challenges, with penalties for the unfortunate losers, voting periodically to eliminate one of your number until only one of you is left. Those who get voted out will receive a special punishment, in addition to any… alterations that I make to them over the course of the game. But the winner will get something very special. Three wishes. Anything they want. Anything at all.”

Abby shivered at the thought of these ‘special punishments’, but her eyes lit up at the thought of three wishes. Anything she wanted? Anything at all? If she could win…

“We’ll start the first challenge very soon, but first we need to get some num-nums in those cute little tummies of yours. Follow me, girls. Lunchtime.”

He led them out of the hall and into a large sunlight dining room, and none of them could think of anything else to do but follow. Blushing bright red, Susie tried to tug her tiny skirt down to stop herself flashing her new childish underwear with every step. Madelyn tried desperately to remove her thumb from her mouth, but it was hopeless. The harder she tried to take it out, the more urgently she sucked. A line of drool ran down her chin. She wanted to wipe it away, but for some reason she couldn’t, as though the simple knowledge of how to wipe her face clean had been blocked from her mind. She knew she looked monumentally stupid, a grown woman in a stylish suit sucking her thumb and dribbling down her chin like a giant toddler, but she just couldn’t stop herself!

The women stopped dead when they saw the chairs that were seated around the dinner table. They were highchairs. But even worse was what was placed on the table in front of each of them – a baby bottle full of milk, and a large bowl of mushy baby food.

“You must be joking,” said Katherine, wrinkling her nose.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” said the Magician. He waved his hand, and bright pastel-coloured bibs appeared around each of their necks.

Katherine cringed at the sight of the canary-yellow bib that now adorned her front. She couldn’t stand anything that messed with her elegant, classy wardrobe. The other girls looked down distastefully at the bibs on their own chests as well.

“In fact,” the Magician continued, smirking once again, “I think you’re all going to enjoy your lunchies very much.”

Abby suddenly realised she was hungry. Very hungry, in fact. She stared at the bowls of baby food, and the bottles of creamy milk, and her stomach rumbled. Hers wasn’t the only one.

“Hungry babies!” the Magician laughed. “Are you all keen to get some yummies in your tummies?”

The five of them rushed forwards and clambered into their highchairs. They were tight and uncomfortable, but none of them cared. They were all too eager to eat. Abby picked up the tiny plastic spoon next to her bowl and started shovelling baby food into her mouth, not even caring that she was getting most of it smeared around her lips. Madelyn was finally able to pull her thumb out of her mouth with a wet pop, only to shove the nipple of her baby bottle into it instead and start guzzling down the warm milk inside. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Katherine crammed her spoon into her mouth messily. She knew the Magician was doing something to them, knew that she’d never normally do something like this, but it didn’t matter. Baby food soon spattered her bib and covered her chin. It was an insult to her refined upbringing, but she just couldn’t control herself! It was so tasty!

The Magician chuckled as he watched the five women desperately shovel down baby food and drink up their baby formula. In no time at all, they were finished, sat in their highchairs with their stomachs full to bursting and their faces and bibs covered in baby food.

“Such messy girls!” he announced, making them all blush. A wet cloth appeared in his hand, and he went around one by one, wiping the girls’ mouths clean. A particularly malicious smirk appeared on his face when he reached Madelyn, and saw the drool that was also wetting her chin. “Such a dribbly baby!” he cooed.

Madelyn glared at him, but the intimidating effect was ruined slightly by the mucky bib she wore, and the fact that the Magician was wiping her chin for her like some stupid toddler who couldn’t do it herself. Her thumb immediately slipped back into her mouth.

“Alright, girls,” he said once he was done and they were all getting out of their highchairs. “Back to the hall. Follow me.”

They trailed back into the brightly lit hall, groaning a little at how full they were. Becky couldn’t believe she’d just eaten the kind of meal those stupid brats at her daycare ate every day. It had tasted so good in the moment, but now she felt disgusted with herself. Even if it was magic, how had she let herself be reduced to their level?!

“Now, we’re almost ready to start the challenge…” the Magician said to himself once they were all back in the room they’d first appeared in. “What have I forgotten…? Ah yes!” He snapped his fingers.

Abby felt a sudden coolness around her legs, and a strange thickness between her thighs, as if her underwear had suddenly expanded. She looked down and squealed in horror. The other girls did the same. Anything they’d been wearing below the waist had vanished, to be replaced by bulky, white, disposable diapers. Susie had kept her childish new clothes, but now instead of her baby-duck patterned undies, it was a thick, crinkly nappy poking out from beneath her miniskirt.

“W-what have you done?!” Katherine shrieked. Her dress had vanished entirely, leaving her in just her a nappy and a bra.

“We can’t have anything covering up your diaper, sweetie. I need to be able to see if you’ve lost the challenge and need changing. You can have your dress back later, little miss. If you're good."

Madelyn cringed as she looked down at herself. She looked especially ridiculous with a suit jacket on the top and a bulky nappy on the bottom, a mockery of the strong, independent woman she was.

“Now we can get started,” the Magician said. “You see, that yummy baby food you all just ate has a very special property. Aside from making your tummies nice and full, it has also, for the next half an hour or so only, reduced your toilet training to the level it was at when you were three years old.”

All five women went pale.

“So,” the Magician went on cheerfully, “we’re going to have a little game to see how well you were all potty trained. Don’t worry, I don’t expect any of you to be able to stay dry very long. The challenge will end when someone makes a stinky in her pants, at which point everyone else will be allowed to use…” He waved his hand, and a row of pink, plastic training potties replaced the chairs they’d been sitting on earlier. “These.”

All five girls fidgeted nervously, their thick diapers crinkling between their thighs.

“And what happens to the person who loses?” Becky asked fearfully.

The Magician grinned. “The first person to fill her nappy will become incontinent. Permanently."

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ characters — bonus characters

heizou: the most unmotivated person you'll ever meet, but only for very specific things. like school. after being pitifully denied from most of the top universities in inazuma, he decided to give up and become a police officer. until...he got fired for doing that too (in his defense, the alcoholic hit first). he was planning to lie to his mom that he was going to a private university just so he can become a nomad. that's what he thought his plan was; until his friend yanfei showed him a video of the same person who went to him to help them find a "stalker" getting coffee spilled all over them. huh. guess he should look back into it.

yanfei: aspiring lawyer that got seven scholarships at one point in her life, heizou often is jealous of her and makes it known in how much he gloats about how he has bigger muscles than her. allegedly, he can beat her in a fight, but she's not too confident about that statement (nor is he). they both got really invested in watching yours and scaramouche's beef, and started to pull their own stunts behind the scenes. there's nothing funnier than being anonymously involved in other people's lives. the funniest part? they both had nothing to gain.

furina: voice actress, opera singer, streamer, you name it. furina is a big deal, and you are in love with her. she originally started on youtube, and people loved watching her because she was a breath of fresh air. even though most of her following isn't concerned with her streaming, she broke boundaries for twitch, naturally becoming a lifestyle kind of streamer. naturally charismatic with everyone she meets, your biggest dream was to be as big as she was. hell, you wanted to be her dog. little did you know that she was right under your nose the entire time.

nahida: okay, this wasn't initially her idea, but it worked out for her. she's not that talkative in her videos, mainly because she never knows what to say, but she impacted the toy industry through the sheer amount of views of her toy reviews. all she does is show the toy to the camera, play with it a little, and gives either a thumbs up or a thumbs down. who is even editing her videos? she is. she is hustling the toy community singlehandedly. nahida definitely knows what she's doing, it's why sometimes during a business meeting she sounds so profound.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @melpomenelurks

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[romanreignsbae]

I’ll help you - R.R

Me and my boyfriend Joe of 2 years now have always supported eachother no matter the circumstances. More recently Joe's schedule has been hectic as ever, because football season has started and he has a minor problem consuming him.

Since he came into college on a full ride scholarship for football this doesn't mean grades don't matter. He's an student athlete so his grades are always took into consideration before football.

Me and him have basically have all our classes together. In one class specifically, he's been struggling and is on the verge of failing, if his grade goes any lower, he will be taken off the football team until it goes back up and he can't have that.

We have a test in 2 days that's worth enough to bring his mark back up, so here I am in our dorm room trying to help him study.

I'm explaining the question thoroughly to make sure he understands. "So, Joe do you get it?" I ask him. I get no response so I look up at him seeing he's staring at me in awe. He then keeps eye contact while pushing my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. I blush profusely.

"Your so gorgeous baby, you know that" he talks in low voice while questioning me. But no- I can't fall for this right now.

"No Joe don't try to sweet talk your way outta this, you gotta get your grade up otherwise you won't be able to play" I remind him. He groans loudly before throwing his head back clearly annoyed.

I don't blame him because this is a pretty hard class, even for me. "C'mon Joe-" I get cut off with lips being smashed onto mines.

I try to pull away but he only deepens the kiss. I decide to let him get everything outta him, before I lecture him a little. He pulls away smiling at me with a proud look on his face. He reaches out and runs his finger over my now bruised bottom lip.

"Joe now seriously let's do a few more questions…then we can lay down and take a nap together" I try to compromise.

"Alright fine" he replies. What takes about 30 minutes we get through about 4 questions and I can see Joe's kinda starting to get the hang of it.

"Can we finally lay down?!” he pleads me in a whiny voice.

I nod my head and leads me to our bed. I lay down on my back and he crawls on top of me, laying his head on my chest. I start running my hands through his hair and within a few minutes I hear light snores. Before I know it I feel myself falling into a deep sleep too.

I wake up the next morning and get ready for my first class. I always wake up earlier then Joe because I like a fresh start to my day. I usually wake Joe up around 15 minutes before we leave cause he barely takes any time to get ready.

We get through all our classes and before we know it, it's break. Me and Joe hold hands walking through the courtyard. Usually during break we just sit under a tree and chill. I read occasionally if he wants to throw a football around with his friends. But it's rare cause he claims he would rather spend his time with me.

We place ourselves down under the big tree that gives a shadow to block the sun. I open my book bag and pull out the text books we need for him to study.

"Babyyyy nooo, not during break" he whines. I try not to giggle at his tone.

"Yes Joe, you have a practice that runs late tonight, when you get home your not gonna wanna study and the test is tomorrow, so you need to study" I explain.

He surprisingly complies and nods while he leans his head onto my shoulder.

"Ok so I'm gonna give you a few practice questions, and if you need help wait until the end, I want you to try these yourself at first" I announce.

I grab my notebook and write out a few questions. I hand the book over to him and I see him writing. A few minutes later he hands me back the notebook.

He had a confident look on his face and I hate to burst his bubble but these were all wrong. "Joe sweetie, these are wrong, but you got all the steps right, your just rushing the end" I exclaim.

He's truly so smart he just needs to try harder, and if he did I'm confident he would be doing phenomenal in all his classes.

"I know, I just don't have any motivation for this type stuff" he tells me. He leans forward and tries to give me a kiss. I back away and he groans.

"Y/n baby, please let me kiss you" he begs. A idea then pops into my head.

"Okay Joe, how bout every question you get right, you get a kiss, but… don't rush otherwise you won't get one" I compromise to him.

His eyes light up. He shoots up and sits up straight. "Yeah yeah lets do that, gimme some questions" he says almost excitedly. I laugh at his excitement.

I hand him the notebook and this time he takes about 20 minutes, I calmly read waiting for him.

I look over the answers and squeal. "Yes Joe! These are all right! I'm so proud of you, your gonna do great on the test" I exclaim.

He smiles at me proudly "that's because I have the best tutor" he tells me. He then quickly pulls me by my sweater and smashes his lips onto mine. We share a mini makeout session, until I feel my head throbbing in pain.

I quickly pull away and keep my eyes shut, the pain is so bad. "Hey! What the fuck man! Why the fuck would you do that" I hear Joe yelling.

I open my eyes and see that a football is right beside me. Great. I've had a football thrown at my head.

"Owww" I whine out while trying to contain myself from crying.

Joe collects all my books and puts them into my bag, he then picks me up and I nuzzle my face into his neck, his cologne calming and distracting me from the pain.

When he stops walking I open my eyes to see we are in the nurses office. Joe explains what happend to me to the nurse.

She quickly tests me out. "Ok well, it's not a concussion, but I suggest you rest now, stay home from school tomorrow and go back if you feel right" she tells me.

I thank her and we leave, while we walk to our dorm room, Joe's shit talking the guy who through the football at me, and about how he's gonna beat him up during practice.

When we get back Joe lays me down on our bed and gets a ice pack placing it on my head.

"I'm gonna stay here, instead of go to practice today" he lets me know.

I feel guilt wash over me. "No no, go Joe I'll be alright" I try to convince him. He doesn't budge at all though and pulls me onto his chest.

The rest of the night we spend cuddled up in our bed watching movies and order takeout.

The next morning I wake up before Joe per usual and decided I don't feel good enough to go to school. I wake up Joe and inform him he needs to get ready, but I'll be staying here.

He offers to stay with me, but I protest since he has that test today.

"Your gonna do great baby, just remember take your time and double check your answers." I tell him.

When it's time for him to go he kisses me softly before asking if I need anything before he leaves, which i refuse to.

I spend my day reading a book I've needed to get to, I took the opportunity since I had nothing better to do.

I look at the time and see Joe should be back any minute. While I'm finishing the book I hear the door slam open. I turn to my side to see Joe with a massive smile on his face.

"Baby, baby! Look what I got on the test" he practically yells. He walks over to me and sticks his hand out. I take the paper from him to see '93%' bolded in red in the corner of the page.

"Joe, you did it! I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you!" I tell him excitedly.

The rest of the night is a calm night, I decide I need some fresh air so I sit on the bleachers reading during Joe's practice. And we spend our night embraced in each other's arms.

[inconsistent-kuroshitsuji-blog]

Can I request Sebastian with a gender neutral s/o (or master) who had a mental breakdown bcs of math and acted like nothing happened infront of him? (I'm gonna lose my mind over math)

My dearie, of course. I know, it has been a while, but now I am here. (That sounded like I'm some sort god-figure.) I'm about 90% sure that I have completely lost my mind over math and have no way of getting it back.

Sebastian comforting you after you lose your mind over your math homework

When the fuck did math get letters? Why does math need letters? Why must it make a problem out of everything? Who cares at what degree a certain angle of a roof of a weird art exhibition is. Why should you care at what height a discoball is located if a laser hits it at a certain angle? And who even thinks of such ridiculous problems?

Advanced education? More like an advanced headache. You've sat here at your desk for about three hours, longer than you planned to. You were just trying to do your homework, but nothing was working out. The numbers didn't add up, you don't even know where to start at. It is all too much, too much at once, you just can't handle it anymore.

Throwing away your pencil, you start sobbing over that darned piece of paper. What is this supposed to teach you? Well, nothing that matters to you, of course, yet you're still forced to keep up with algebra and geometry and analysis, totally useless in your daily life. If only these problems were solvable with tears. The only thing they do for you right now is smudge your already hastily written tasks and solutions. Oh, how you hate this. You can only hate this. How could you ever do anything else-?

Your door opens. What now? Who has come to bother you at your lowest point of the day?

"Is everything alright, my dear?", you hear, yet you don't look up. You don't have to do so to know who is there. You'd recognise his gentle voice in a crowded room full of people who don't know how to properly adjust their voice volume. You also want to save yourself from the embarrassment of him seeing your puffy red eyes. So you only mumble something into your arm, something along the lines of "Maybe, I don't know, leave me alone.".

But he didn't. Of course he didn't leave, he never really does what you tell him to. Just like his beloved cats, Sebastian does what he feels like doing at any given point. So if he wants to physically see your tears for his amusement, he will watch them slowly run down your cheeks. You hear how he places something infront of you.

"If everything truly was alright, you'd show me your beautifull face. So, look up for me.". That snarky bastard. You'd hate him for that if you didn't love him more. So you slowly look up to him, eyes all puffy and swollen. "See? I'm fine.". You finally realised he placed a batch of biscuits infront of you, freshly made of course. Sebastian looks down at you with that smirk he always seems to have on his face. "Well, I don't believe you. You're a bad liar, kitten. What is troubling you?". He doesn't even wait for your answer, he just looks down and responds with a little "Ah.". He saw everything he needed to see.

"Is your scholarship too hard on you again? Or is it you being too hard on yourself?", he asked while sitting down next to you. He seemingly tries to make out what you wrote, but it is simply incomprehensible thanks to your tears. "I told you already, it's nothing. Just some stupid problems. As if I would've brought them to class anyway..."

"Frustrated, are we?". "Shut it...", you deliberately look away, yet he pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your head. "Now, no need to cry over silly made up numbers and problems. Rest your head for now.". Sebastian slightly nudges your head onto his chest. Maybe he's right. You should take a little break, just for now.

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

Phew, finally something fresh on my paige. As you can guess, I'm well and alive, more alive than well but alive nonetheless. I'll see how I can get back on track. But until then, I will fulfill the meaning of my name by disappearing suddenly and reappearing again. Like a little ghost.

Until then~

Your Inconsistent Kuroshitsuji Blog~

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter eleven

Summary: There is a celebration for one of the Rogers to be held.

Warnings: Kissing?

Word Count: 1377

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series’ Spotify Playlist

A/N: For everyone who voted for this in my poll today, I've been reading and listening don't worry. I know you miss Sunshine.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 | @spider-mans-hoe

Soft patterns are painted against your bedroom wall as the morning sun filters through the curtains. You stirred awake with a sense of excitement, rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes you could hear the faint sounds of movement coming from your bathroom. Steve was already up. 

Rolling out of bed, the events of the night before were still fresh in your mind. Bucky’s confession about the list had left you with mixed emotions: gratitude, surprise, and also a sense of trust. Despite the chaos you were welcomed by at Stark’s Motors, Bucky’s gesture had been a reassurance of his sincerity.

As you headed downstairs, you found your parents gathered in the kitchen. The nervous energy filled the air. Your dad was sitting at the table, his leg bounced anxiously as he repeatedly checked the time on his watch.

“Any news yet?” you asked, taking a seat at the table. 

Your dad shook his head, there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “Not yet,” 

Your mom shot a worried glance towards your dad, their concern was evident. Suddenly, the familiar chime of an email incoming broke the tension. Your parent's eyes widen as they sucked in a breath and turned towards the stairs. 

“I got it!” Steve exclaimed, his voice filled with joy as he rushed down the stairs, laptop in hand. “I got the scholarship!” 

Your parents rushed to their feet, erupting in cheers as they enveloped Steve in hugs and congratulations. Relief washed over you as a smile tugged at your lips. “That’s fantastic, Steve!” your dad exclaimed, his eyes shined with pride at his son’s achievement. “Tonight we’ll celebrate, dinner anywhere you want!” 

Steve’s grin widened, nodding eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds great!” 

~

As Steve drove you both down the familiar streets, the sunlight cast a warm glow over the town, and you shared a comfortable silence. The morning had been eventful, but now, as you headed to school together, there was a sense of peace in the air. 

Glancing over at your brother, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. “I really am proud of you, Steve,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. His smile widened at your words. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about what happened at the game,” 

Steve shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past now.” A few moments passed, the car began to stop at a red light and Steve turned to you. “Listen,” he began, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you getting too close to Bucky,” he continued with a somber tone. “I’ve seen the way he can be, and I don’t trust him.” 

Your heart sank, you weren’t surprised that Steve was still adamant about you and Bucky but the disappointment washed over you. “But Steve,” you began, pausing for a moment to search for the right words. “I don’t think he’s as bad as you think.”

He sighed, his gaze returned to the road. “I know you might not see it, but I just want what’s best for you,” As the light turned green, he continued the journey ti school. “I don’t think Bucky is it.”

~

The hallway bustled with passing students as you felt a hand grip your wrist, before you knew it you had been pulled into a dimly lit bathroom. Your heart raced for a moment before looking up at the small smile playing against Bucky’s lips. 

Before you could utter a word, Bucky’s lips crashed against yours in a fervent kiss, a wildfire of desire igniting within you as your back hit against the cold tiled walls. For a moment, you lost yourself in the heat until a pang of concern pierced through you. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your eyes darted around the bathroom and your voice trembled with urgency. “What if someone catches us?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed a strand of hair away from your flushed face. His voice was laced with confidence as his hand moved down to cup your cheek. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

Your resolve wavered as you drowned in Bucky’s intense gaze, your resistance crumbled. “Okay..” You closed the gap between you again, your lips meeting again in a tender kiss. The embrace was filled with a quiet intensity, it felt like it was lasting a lifetime. 

When you finally parted, your breaths mingled in the stillness of the bathroom. Bucky’s voice was soft with longing as he spoke. “Hey, I was thinking… maybe we could sneak away after school, and have a little fun just the two of us.” 

A surge of excitement coursed through you at the suggestion, but also a flicker of guilt. “I wish I could, but my dad is taking us out to celebrate Steve getting into college tonight,” You began to fidget with the zipper that hung from his leather jacket. “I can’t get out of that.” 

Bucky’s lips curled into a smile, resting his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, Sunshine,” Letting out a relieved sigh, Bucky’s understanding lifting a weight off your shoulders, your hand found his, fingers intertwining. “We’ll find another time,” Bucky said softly, squeezing your hand gently. 

You nodded, as the sounds of the hallway filtered through the walls. Bucky leaned in for one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away. After a final glance, you turned to leave the bathroom, your hand slipping from his as you stepped back into the crowded hallways. 

As you set off toward your next class, a smile played on your lips as the thoughts of his lips on yours lingered in your mind. 

~

The celebration dinner for Steve was a lively affair, held at a quaint local diner that you knew Steve came to with his friends and Sharon. The diner had been decorated with colorful streamers and balloons, all the colors of the college he would be heading to. The air was filled with buzzing chatter of other families and friends eating out, and the aroma of food. 

Settled into a cozy corner booth, the vinyl seats creaked slightly. This diner was nothing compared to the one Bucky took you to the evening before. You noticed Steve had changed into his best shirt and tie, looking every bit the part of the accomplished high school senior. His smile hadn’t faltered all night. 

Throughout the dinner, conversations were consumed by laughter and animated gestures. Your parents couldn’t contain their pride, showering your brother with praise. You found yourself joining in, expressing how proud you were of his achievement. 

As the plates of fries and burgers were being passed around the table, Steve retold tales of the scholarship application process and how he achieved it. Each story was met with understanding nods and verbal recognition. 

You couldn’t shake off the encounter with Bucky earlier in the day, his kisses lingering in your mind. As you stole the occasional glance at Steve, you couldn’t help but wonder if he could sense the turmoil beneath your cheerful facade. 

When dessert arrived, your dad raised his plastic cup for a toast. “To Steve, I couldn’t be prouder of you.” His eyes glistened with pride as he directed his words towards your brother. “From the moment you set your sights on this scholarship, you showed determination, perseverance, and commitment,” You smiled as you glanced over at Steve, just as Sharon placed her hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You poured your heart and soul into every application, every essay, every game.”

As your dad continued to praise your brother, you thought about what your life would look like in a year. Who would be at a table like this when you get your acceptance letter? What will your dad say about you? Would Steve be back home to celebrate? Would you have someone by your side, offering reassurance? Would it be Bucky?

“... may your future be filled with success, happiness, and endless possibilities. We love you.” 

You were brought back to the present by the cheers and applause of your family. With a smile, you raised your cup high in tribute to your big brother, and silently to your journey ahead of you.

---

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[frostbitebakery]

Anything from Who Ordered The Resurrection Special please?

DO I! :D

“The war is over. What now?”

Ryloth’s mountains rise on the horizon with the setting sun.

Obi-Wan rubs at the corner of his eye, leans back on his other hand. The grass is tickling against his skin. Kashyyk’s vegetation has always been so soft and lush; it’s a balm that almost, almost makes him smile. “I’m afraid we’re not out of tasks to do yet, my friend.” Perhaps his tone is too sarcastic, too downtrodden. But the exhaustion is clamoring up his every nerve and muscle and strand of thought.

“You’re right,” his Commander agrees softly, small chuckle rounding the vowels, echoes of it flowing back from the cliffs. Geonosis is not a good resting place. “Even death can’t keep you away from work.”

It sounds too serious for a joke. “What do you mean?” he asks and turns his head towards—

Goda shakes him by the singed shawl, breath burning and fire. “The one who should have been didn’t care and now everyone is paying the price.” The hole in his gut sizzles, melts, and Obi-Wan frantically pulls at the bandages. “Stop them before—“

“Goda, please, hold on, yes?” They’re alone but they shouldn’t be. It had been carnage the last time. Goda pushing Obi-Wan into a fighter with his last breath, voice cold and droid-like when it wasn’t drenched in despair.

Goda’s glove smells like death as it brushes against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “We weren’t ever meant to be, were we?”

“Who—? Commander—“

“Your men.”

Obi-Wan wakes up.

Day 2

Wolffe hauls the backpack higher up on his shoulder, pulls the cap deeper into his face. “Sinker owes me. I’ll rig up the IV once I’m back.”

“I’m sure Nurse Rosa appreciates the nickname.”

Wolffe holds up his hands. “She’s the one who came up with it.” He slaps Cody’s shoulder before turning to the front door. “I’ll get something to eat, too,” he says, stepping through the door and into the faint morning light.

Cody leans against the door, closing it with his weight, and lets himself sigh deep and even.

Their plan is to put an IV into the zombie for electrolytes until his organs can handle digestion. Wolffe gets some supplies from the hospital since going there is still out of the question even though the zombie has drastically healed since the first moment he appeared. It’s not leathery skin stretched over bones and gnarled limbs anymore. He had almost looked fresh faced when Cody had helped him into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Very fresh faced. It’s easy now to imagine what he’ll look like once he’s fully alive again.

Cody’s cheeks turn warm and that’s enough of that.

Maybe Cody’s family is in a unique position when it comes to… the stranger side of life, and as a firefighter he’s certainly seen enough shit one can’t explain that easily. But he’d rather not make tinfoil hats in a padded room while the zombie is whisked off to be sliced and diced.

“Hel…lo…”

Perfect timing. Cody looks up to his unalive guest standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, looking lost in Cody’s borrowed clothes. “Oh, hey, you’re up!”

“…there.”

Cody blinks. “Where what?”

.

Cody has to think about that one for a minute. Which might give Obi-Wan the wrong impression about his family and Cody’s relationship to them but he’s not exactly thinking about them day and night anymore. Not now that they’re all adults with their own lives.

“My siblings mean everything to me,” Cody lands on, tipping a finger against the red MFD mug. “They didn’t have it easy growing up but they worked hard and,” he huffs out a laugh. He isn’t cynical usually but working hard to achieve dreams and success hasn’t been cutting it since before he was born. “Our father had some helpful connections so they could at least get a foot in the door.”

Cody refuses to publicly acknowledge the reality behind those connections for his siblings’ sake. He dug deep to uncover the truth behind Bly suddenly getting the scholarship of a lifetime, the top notch medical school of the country personally inviting Wolffe into their program.

Fox had fucked off to the Navy following his dream of reenacting the beach football scene in Top Gun. So it was up to Cody to ensure their father’s shady business wouldn’t bite them in the ass in the long run. Ponds had already paid the highest price for that. Boba—

“Boba is the oldest,” Cody starts, smile tugging at his mouth despite everything. He’s currently in jail for murdering my second oldest brother, Cody chooses not to say.

Obi-Wan tilts his head in interest but Cody moves right along.

“You met Wolffe,” he continues, grinning at Obi-Wan’s sigh. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”

:

“I’m not here to hold people’s hands, Dr Koone,” Wolffe says reasonably.

The medical superintendent looks down at his hand being held by Wolffe and raises a bushy eyebrow around the breathing mask contraption covering most of his face.

“This means nothing.” Wolffe about had a heart attack when he got the news of the gas leak explosion rendering his mentor comatose. “It’s not my fault you like to live in a medical drama.”

Dr Koone pats his hand.

Wolffe sighs. “I’ll have Boost fluff your pillows. He’ll sneak in your ER novels.”

:

“I actually am not sure what Bly does,” Cody says slowly. “She got a bunch of doctorates hanging in her garage and her favorite hobby is making slime.”

:

Bly punches the end call button on the touchscreen with a growl. “No one lets me do anything around here!”

Cody blows on the spoonful of sauce before taking a careful sip. “They’re not going to fund you your own CERN, Bly.” A bit more oregano should do the trick.

“The things I could do with it!”

The alarm is about to go off and Cody stops it before the first beep. “Drain the spaghetti, please.”

Bly takes the huge pot over to the sink, hitting the cold water. “They act like I’m one inevitable lab accident away from becoming Doofenschmirtz.”

“They aren’t wrong.”

Bly whirls around, hands over her heart. “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me, Codes.”

“I love you no matter what doesn’t count at all, does it?”

His sister scoffs out a laugh and waves him away. “I already knew that, idiot.”

Cody shakes his head and announces to the station that lunch is ready.

:

“After Fox’s stint in the Navy and fulfilling that dream, he went on to the next one,” Cody explains and pauses.

:

“Please give a warm welcome to our special guest tonight,” the club host says into the mic. “His unapologetic attitude towards life and its wonders has firmly established his name in the poetry community worldwide.”

Cody is about to clap when he notices everyone around him snapping their fingers.

“I swear, all your lives are made purely out of 90s tropes,” he murmurs to Bly.

“You would know, old man.”

Fox slinks onto the stage in a tight fitting black turtleneck and board shorts, and grabs the mic. “Pain.” He stomps onto the floor once. “Spite.”

The crowd goes wild.

[palmtreesx3]

Act 4 - Going All the Way

Queening (Steve's Chapter)

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Summary: (10.6k)  Steve’s phone call with his dad does not go well, and the aftermath of that call impacts way more than Steve himself. Steve has to realize a few things, only one of which is that he’s got people there to pick him up when he’s down, but the most important is that relationships don’t have to be conditional. As everyone rallies behind Steve, a revelation comes in the form of a stranger on a bench, and that chance meeting starts a few wheels in motion behind Steve’s pretty head. Can he fix what he’s done when he was down and out? Can he patch things up? Is this the end of the road, or can he go all the way? Buckle up, and enjoy this angsty chapter of Get Off. 

Warnings: it's a sex shop and generally just NSFW so 18+. Heavier topics are explored, depicted or mentioned including prejudice and anti-gay bias, heavy binge drinking as escapism, depression and a blink of thinking better off dead, controlling parents, overstimulation and some dashes of neurotypical behavior you can catch if you blink slowly enough. There’s also the ongoing sexual innuendos and explicit discussion of body parts, as well as implied p+v intercourse, and the holy grail of pussyeating. 

"What the hell is going on, son?" his father's voice bellowed through the phone. "I just heard from a colleague that you're working in some... some pornographic store downtown! In town for business and he could have sworn he saw your lookalike walking into the place, but then you turned around and he knew it was my own flesh and blood. How goddamned embarrassing, Stephen. Do you know how embarrassing that conversation is to have over a business dinner?"

Steve winced at the tone his father took, a visceral response he’s had since childhood. A tone he knows well and somehow still cuts just as deep as it did when he was thirteen. "Dad, it's not like that. It's just a job. It’s…it’s retail, s’all it is" he stammered, attempting to diffuse the tension. To deflect. To play ball. 

His father scoffed, "Retail job? Don't play games with me. I've spent years paying for whatever you need, trying to get you scholarships for sports which you squander away with your shitty grades, and this is what you end up doing? Sitting on your ass for a few years and working in some seedy place, peddling who knows what!"

"It's not like that at all. It's just a store, and we sell lots of things, not…not just that stuff, Dad." Steve tries desperately to explain, slipping right back into it - the role of a boy trying to find any excuse to satiate a father that could never be pleased. Like the time he was a shameful teenage boy being told he’s worthless as he stood in the entryway of the house, barely over the threshold, all because he passed the ball and let Sammy Curtis sink the game winning shot instead of taking it himself.

"That stuff” he interrupts with a scoff. “Is this what I raised you for? I expected you to have a respectable career by now. Thought this move to the city was going to give you some fresh choices, not this... this filth!"

Steve was not ready for this. Half his hangover was still hanging on for dear life. Just a moment ago things were…not this complicated. He was eating a raw bagel talking about…you…with his friend. Even when that was the thing that felt complicated it wasn't really, was it? It was simple, and easy and… Now he’s struggling to find the words to defend himself, especially hard long-distance, though he also guesses he should be grateful it was - he wasn’t forced to see the rage and disappointment behind his father’s eyes this particular time."Dad, it's just a job. We needed work, and this opportunity came up. It doesn't define who I am. I just…it shouldn’t matter that much." 

“Just a job? Stephen? What do you mean just a job?” At that, Steve can hear his voice slip into a deeper register. He knows the face that goes along with this. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his father is going to try and ruin his life. It’s not much of one, but it’s his, and he can just tell that he’s about ready to pull the rug out from under him. 

“You're 25, for God's sake! When are you going to get a real job, a job that befits the family name? Do you think your mother and I worked so hard for you to end up in some disgraceful position like this? Galavanting around a city and being a part in all this promiscuity. Goddamnit, at this rateI bet you even associate with the gays. Don’t you?"

He feels his body tense and wince as those words spill out of his fathers mouth. His eyes flit to his friend, sitting on the couch, legs tucked up under her and perched there watching one side of this debacle unfold like a deer in headlights. Forcing a smile at him, an awkward smile of encouragement, none the wiser about the hate his father is spewing about people like… about her. Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes thinking about it and Robin sees them - or at least she thinks she does - and her eyebrows furrow in concern. But before she can be sure, he turns around refusing to show his vulnerability right now even to her. He bites his lip to stifle the visceral response he had to his dad’s prejudices about his friend. "Dad, I'm doing my best. I'm trying to make a living and figure things out. It's not as easy as you think."

His father's tone softened with a hint of disappointment unlike the frustration and anger that has been flowing out of him since the minute Steve picked up the phone. In almost a plea, he says "You're embarrassing us, son. This is not the life I envisioned for you. You need to reconsider your choices and start acting like an adult."

After a brief silence, his father's voice returned, this time laced again with frustration - the softness that just fell was all an act. This is the hammer Steve was expecting, and it’s falling. Right now. "Enough of this nonsense. You're coming back home. I've arranged for a position for you in the firm. You'll start immediately. Stability, respect – those are the things you need. Not whatever you're doing in that disgraceful place."

Steve ran his free hand through his hair, shaking his head but not really knowing what to say. Dragging his hand back down his face, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The pressure to conform to his father's expectations had been a constant weight on his shoulders for his entire life and this is not the first time this conversation has been had. This time feels different though. Before he hadn’t had anything to call his own - not as much to lose. This stupid apartment and the life that they’re living, it’s been good. Maybe the best thing that he’s ever had. And it’s been his. Before, his dad just wanted control. This time, he wants to control him and strip him of the actual identity he’s been working so hard to understand and build. "Dad, I... I need some time to figure things out here. I can't just drop everything and come back."

His father's tone grew more insistent. "Time? You've had enough time, and look where it's gotten you – working in a place like that! It's time to put an end to this foolishness. You're coming back, and that's final."

Steve hesitated, torn between his desire for independence and the fear of his dad. He takes a deep breath and finally responds "I appreciate your concern, but I need to make my own choices. I can't just give up on everything I've built here."

"Built? You call this building a life? What have you accomplished, working in that... that den of immorality? Come home, and I'll set you on the right path. It's time you take responsibility for your future." 

As his father continued to insist, Steve’s yearning to forge his own path and avoid any that looks remotely like his fathers continues to intensify. He’s tuning out the insults at this point, desperate to find some sort of life raft to hold on to as he drowns in his fathers disappointments. It’s only then, that he finds it. The lifeline. The realization that he's got miles between him and his father now. He’s not coming home later to ground him or impose punishments on him. He isn’t relying on their money to pay bills. His mind is racing a mile a minute, and nothing…not one fucking thing he can land on points to any reason that he has to comply with his father. He isn’t depending on him for anything anymore, so why does he owe his dad anything at all?

"I'll think about it, Dad," And with that, he hangs up, knowing full well that he won’t think about it for another goddamn second. 

And that day, Steve called out of work. 

Robin couldn’t even argue with him. After the receiver hit the wall, she could tell that it was worse than she expected the minute he turned around and she could see his eyes glistening. She also was confused as fuck, because she swore she also saw him smirking just a little bit, but she was not going to poke the bear. She let him storm off and slam the door to his room. She didn’t bother him even though everything inside of her was screaming to go knock on the door and make him talk about it. Make him listen to her. She wanted to tell him he wasn’t anything that his father probably just said he was, but they’ve had this conversation before and…damnit she was working really hard at knowing boundaries - trying to read the room and figure out when she needs to shut up instead of rambling incessantly at all the wrong times. She thinks that this is one of those times that people need space, so she acquiesced. 

She makes a full pot of coffee, sets out some more food and the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet and leaves it all out on the kitchen counter for Steve for whenever he emerges once she’s gone. Subtle. Not every way to help has to be in your face, she tells herself. I don’t need to meddle. He’ll let me know if he needs anything. Right?

Robin’s walk to work that day was quiet and dreary. The weather outside, overcast and air thick with that feeling that comes before the clouds break open and pour down on you. Seemed fitting. 

It took Robin five whole minutes after she got to work and put her stuff away before she meddled anyway. She picked up the phone once, and quickly set it down - thinking better of it. But immediately picked it back up against her better judgment and called you. As your answering machine picks up and your message plays, dripping with sarcasm and coyness asking your caller to leave a message after the beep, the realization hits then that she has no idea what your schedule is and it was a dumb idea to call you. Dumb dumb dumb. Steve’ll be pissed anyway. 

As the silence settles on the other end of the line Robin’s eyes widen in panic. She meant to hang up, call back later, pretend this didn’t happen at all and play it off as a wrong number. But she’s pretty fucking sure she just said that out loud instead of in her head. “Dumb dumb dumb. Steve’ll be pissed anyway.”

She hung up faster than the devil can fly, slamming down the phone and rattling the display case. The commotion drew Murry out from the back office, shirt pulled up and scratching at his stomach. “What’s got you all worked up Red? Little lost without your other half? Where is he anyway? Finally ruined his perfect attendance because of a wicked hangover, didn’t he? Make sure you tell ‘em he’s not eligible for the Perfect Attendance award this year, nowwww–ohhh something is off about this... What is it Red?.”

So for the next hour, Robin tries her best to summarize what it’s like to have the Harrington’s as parents and what just happened this morning. At least what she knew, because Steve hadn’t shared anything that his dad had said on the other end of that line. “Red, thank God you talk so fast, otherwise that story would have taken up your whole shift. Shit.”

That coaxes a chuckle out of Robin, which makes Murray smile. “Listen, that guy sounds like a Grade-A Asshole. No wonder Steve’s wound so tight…Makes so much sense actually. But this ain’t your fight. Steve’s gotta deal with this demon on his own and he has a funny way of showing it, but he knows where to find the people to help when he needs them. I’m sure of it. He’s not that fucking stupid.” 

“Yeah, see you’re wrong there Murray. He does absolutely think that he has to do everything on his own. Even when he knows we’re here, he won’t… he won’t ask for help. He won’t talk about it. He…thinks he deserves it.” 

It ended up being a slow day, not many people wandering the streets with the off and on drizzles happening all day long, so Robin used that time to bring Alex up to speed after she popped in the shop after work. 

Alex found the story surprisingly relatable. She grew up in a house with rich, successful parents just outside the city in the suburbs. Her parents hosted lavish dinner parties for business partners and she grew up in a way that seemed an awful lot like the Harrington house, other than the fact that they didn’t disappear on her for weeks on end. Her parents, however, were disappointed in her. Unlike Steve’s story, they were not pissed at her skill or her work ethic, her dreams or aspirations. No, they were pissed and disappointed at who was calling the house late at night and giggling on the other end of the phone. Who was picking her up for a night at the movies, or who she was driving off to meet under the swaying trees in the park. The boys she was dating were not good enough for the family - not a “strong enough merger of families” and then when she brought home a girl…well that was a horse of a different color all together. 

Five hours later, Robin and Alex are standing outside of their favorite pizza place in the neighborhood, thinking that a pie and some beers might just draw a sulking Steve out of his cave of self-loathing for the night. They haven’t heard from him all day, and Robin, despite thinking she should maybe let him be for a while, still decided to try and call home to check in on him. When he didn’t answer, Alex offered up a simple explanation, “Rob, he’s probably just sleeping it off, or not in the mood. It’ll be fine.”

Pies and six packs now acquired, they walk side by side the rest of the way back to the apartment, ready for whatever their friend might need. 

“Honey, we’re home!” Robin exclaims, as they barrel through the door. But she stops dead in her tracks seeing the counter laid out with all of the supplies, perfectly arranged exactly how she left them that morning. “Steve? Y’okay?”she shouts down the hallway, on her way to tap at his door before she hears Alex call her name from the living room, beckoning her to come. 

When she arrives, what she doesn’t expect to see are the crushed cans of High Life strewn all over the coffee table, an ashtray so full that she knew he had to blow through most of the pack he has tucked away from when they drink, and the half emptied bottle of Whiskey sitting at the foot of the couch. He didn’t even bother with a glass, she knew it. He spent the day trying to drink away the awful things that sorry excuse for a father said to him straight from the bottle. 

His shoes - the Chucks, the ones he’s been wearing lately - they’re not by the door. Neither is his jacket, so she knows he left and went somewhere. 

But then a high pitched beeping sings from the kitchen, and Robin immediately knows that Steve’s Tamagotchi is hungry…he left, but he forgot his keys. That stupid drunk idiot got locked out. 

All the strings Robin has been holding together all day come loose. They unravel like a dangling thread on a handknit sweater and Alex is pretty sure she hadn’t taken one breath since she started rambling. “Ohmygoddoyouthinkhe’sokay? Whatifsomethinghappenedtohim? Ican’tlivewithmyself. Howdoweevenfindhim? OhmygodI’mgonnahavetotellthekidshe’smissing. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” 

“Robin.” Alex calmly speaks.

“Ifhe’sdeadI’mblaminghisdad,Isweartogodhe’sasgoodasadeadmanhimself” 

“Robin.”

“Jesus,weshouldcallthehopsital? Ormaybethepolice. Yeahwegottacallsomeone. Ohmygod.”

“ROBIN!” Alex finally screams, two hands on her shoulders now shaking her into some sense of reality. “You’re spiraling. You can’t be spiraling. We have to think.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just….”

“Rob, I know you’re worried. We’ll figure it out. Okay?” Alex slides her hand along Robin’s cheek, around her neck and tugging her in for a deep hug, trying to get her to reset, regroup…focus. “Babe, first thing….why do you think he would leave?”

Pulling back, she assesses the situation. Eyes darting around the apartment, closing her eyes so she could think. Just then they pop open looking at the mess on the coffee table. The beer. That was the last of the beer. 

“He was out…” she whispers. “I bet he ran out of beer. That was all we had, and it looks like he polished it off.”

“Okay then. Let’s go for a walk. Check some places where he might get some beers - maybe the corner store you guys go to? See if anyone has seen him, okay? Sound good babe?” Alex’s tone is cool, calm. Her eyes are caring and concerned not just for Steve but also for Robin. She’s being so soft, and even in her panicked haze, Robin notices. 

“Al…Thank you. I needed that.”

With a soft kiss on her temple, Alex grabs Robin’s hand and tugs her towards the door. “Now don’t forget your keys, either, you maniac. Let’s go.”

It’s three pit stops and two meltdowns from Robin on the sidewalk curb later that they find him. It’s honestly the first place they should have looked, but at least they were on the right track. 

Steve did, in fact, get raging pissed that he was out of beer. The cashier they recognize, but don’t know his name, told them as much - mentioned that their friend came in angry and stumbling, grabbed a pack of beer and left it in the middle of the aisle when he rushed out of the store grumbling to himself. It seems as though dear Stevie also forgot his wallet. 

The next place they thought to look was The Hideout. Robin thought that maybe he’d come looking for her, begging for some cash so he could replenish his stash. Pay no mind to the fact that it was past closing for a weeknight and Robin was long gone, at this point they were absolutely certain Steve had no idea what time it even was. Half expecting to see him leaning on the door of the shop, or passed out in a slump on the front stoop, when they came up empty handed again Robin needed to cry.

Head in her hands, leaning on her knees as she sits on the curb, Alex tries to stifle a laugh at how splotchy faced and snotty her beautiful girl is right now. “Baby,” she says, pushing back her hair “Baby…let’s think, kay? is there anywhere else Steve feels safe in this city? Who else does he feel safe with other than you?”

The revelation comes quickly. 

Head popping up with a renewed sense of confidence in their search for their missing and probably sloppily drunk friend “I bet he’s at Bennys.” 

And after a 10 minute walk that is the most silent Robin Buckley has ever been in her entire life, she lets out a breath that she may or may not have been holding the entire time when the door to Benny’s swings open and she takes in Steve with his forehead on the bar. Hopper is standing behind the bar polishing glasses with an irritated scowl and right in front of Steve stands a Joyce, hand right on top of his with sad, concerned eyes that flit right to the girls who just sounded the bell. 

Pitiful. The look Joyce was giving him was pity. And if Steve were coherent enough to realize it, he would be completely ashamed to be receiving it from anyone. Steve was shitfaced drunk out of shame and disappointment and whatever feelings of inadequacy he was shielding away from everyone else in his life, but at least he was safe. Thank Christ he had the decency to come to Benny’s, where at least Joyce would take care of him - make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid. 

“Steve!” Robin yells, rushing over to his side “Steve, we didn’t know where you were. And you left your keys. I was so worried. We thought you were dead, I swear….well I thought you were dead. Alex was much more rational, but…” 

A groan falls from Steve’s throat as their attention turns to Joyce. She opens her mouth to speak but Hopper interjects before she could even get a word out. 

“Your buddy here is a fucking mess. He’s lucky this is Rick’s third stop on his daily tour of downtown dive bars. Recognized the bastard and drug him over here after he got kicked out of wherever they were before this. I honestly don't know where. Ricky’s always so drunk I probably shouldn't even be serving him by the time he gets here anyway.``

“Steve, honey.” Joyce’s honey soft voice stirs him “Your girls are here. Rob and Alex, they’re here for you, baby. Let them help you, okay? Y’cant stay here like this.” She says as she rubs his hair back and tries to soothe him awake. 

“He’s been drinking straight ginger ale for at least an hour. He thinks it's mixed with whiskey but I just couldn't. It was easier than him and Hop arguing ‘bout it.” she says under her breath, just out of his earshot. 

After agreeing to let him sweat it out for a bit longer, Joyce passes the girls a drink while they wait and slides another ginger ale in a rocks glass in front of Steve with a wink.  With soft voices they talk about what has unfolded today just loud enough to hear each other over the din of the jukebox playing “Hunger Strike” in the background. 

Shit. 

As she hears the deep roll of his voice on Eddie Vedder’s verse she’s reminded of you, and remembers the cryptic message she most likely left you on your answering machine. Even though the boy is sitting there in the flesh in front of them, his eyes now open enough to see the whites of them, his stare is vacant and he hasn’t looked this way since… well. Ever. Robin has seen him through some pretty serious shit, and he’s never looked quite this detached. 

“I’m worried about him, girls.” Joyce coos. 

With a nod in agreement, she asks for the only thing she can think to do next. “Joyce, can I use your phone? I gotta call someone who might be able to help.”

Alex’s eyes go wide and she winces, “You sure that’s a good idea, Rob? I mean, I see where you’re going with this, but he’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?’

Seeing the look of confusion on Joyce’s face, Robin grabs the phone and continues “It’s..a girl. He’s fine. It’ll be fine. I don’t care if he’s pissed about it at this point. We need help and… I might have already left her a message earlier in a panic. Oh - Hey!” interrupted in her rambling as you answer the phone on the first ring. “Yeah, yeah I’m so sorry about that weird message earlier. It’s been a… day - a real bad one. We need some help. We’re at Benny’s, and…it’s just - Steve. We need help with Steve, can you come?”

Of course you will. You were there to help as soon as you could. And just like Robin and Alex assumed, Steve was pissed. 

“I'm just saying Stevie, you didn't have to be so mean to her. She came because I called. Didya really expect the two of us to be able to drag your sorry ass home without calling in reinforcement? Have you seen my arms? They're basically twigs!”

“I wasn't trying to be mean to her. It was you guys. I was pissed you called her…cause I didn't… It's embarrassing. She didn't need to see me like that. I know you were trying to help. You can barely carry a damn grocery bag, so I get it, its just… I was pathetic.”

“Well. You said it, I didn't.” Robin shrugs, kicking her feet up on the stool next to her by the register. It's been a few days and they're at least able to poke fun a little bit at the whole thing. Steve and Rob had a long talk after he was able to shake off a two day long hangover that he spent in the dark, shades drawn - crackers and some Pedialyte by his bedside. 

Steve eventually spilled his guts to Robin on the fire escape while she smoked, his throat still too sore from the pack he inhaled in his drunken rage that day. He wouldn't even look at her when he told her about how his dad was talking about… her. Told her that there's been a lot of terrible, downright rude things that his dad has done and said over the years that he's made an excuse for or ignored, but that…that disregard, that intolerance he showed for someone that Steve cared about. That when it comes down to it, Steve loved. That was the last straw. He couldn't turn a blind eye anymore. 

He didn't feel he owed his dad an explanation. If he really thought Steve would show up this weekend with his bags and his Beamer ready to put on a suit and head to the office alongside his dad on Monday, he has another thing coming. 

Murray saunters into the storefront then “Before I finalize this schedule, ya sure you're gonna show up on Monday, dude? Last chance to turn in your notice and go shadow daddy dearest, because if you no call no show me on this schedule next week consider this bridge burned.”

“No way in hell, Murray. I'm fully committed to your dick shop. I'll sell anything you dream up over spending one hour in a building full of pricks like my dad. Don't care how much the salary is or how big the guilt trip.” 

“Well in that case, Steve, it sounds to me that where your dad works is the real dick shop, huh? We…deal only in one way tickets to pleasure town here.” 

“Touche” Steve gives Murray a pow pow with his finger guns before walking through the dangling beads hanging at the entrance to the break room. 

Emerging twenty minutes later (and five minutes late from his break) Steve is unsurprised to find Alex spread across the length of the couch. “What are you two assholes doing?” 

“Hi Alex, thanks again for saving my life and ensuring I don't die in a ditch or need my stomach pumped from alcohol poisoning and ensuring that my most magnetic and caring roommate and best friend didn't have a stroke while I was missing. It's nice to see you again. I am forever in your debt.” Alex mocks with a deep voice meant to imitate his while Robin cackles, slapping her thighs. 

“Smash or pass” she deadpans. “Julia Roberts.”

“Pass” Steve and Robin say in unison. 

“Really?” Alex pops up in surprise. 

“I guess I just don’t get the appeal with that one. I like her movies, though, just…don’t wanna see her bush. No rolling in the hay with her for me.” Robin says very matter of factly. 

“Yeah, for me” Steve quips pointing right at Robin. “Reminds me too much of this asshole right here. Can’t even think about it.” 

Madonna. Demi Moore. Sharon Stone. Liv Tyler was a unanimous smash. An hour went by throwing out names and shouting out whether or not they were fuckable before Alex’s bisexual ass snuck in Brad Pitt.

“Bleh, pass. That's a dick.”

“Smash.” Steve's eyes go wide. Did he just…

“Stevie boy, did you just smash Brad Pitt?” Alex is literally on the edge of her seat at this point. Robin's jaw is just about on the floor. He's waving her off “That…that's not.. I mean. If I were I guess…he’s a good looking guy, s’all I’m saying.”

 “You would like the golden boy type shit. I'm more of a ruggedly handsome older man kinda bisexual. I bet you'd smash Patrick Swayze too, handsome. UNLESS…are we talking Interview with a Vampire long hair type Pitt because…”

“This is too much for me!” Robin is shouting as she starts pacing. 

“Robbie, I’d expect a little more tolerance from you. I’m disappointed.” Steve pokes fun. “Anyway, you do have the late shift today, so I’ll save you from thinking about me boning Brad Pitt and get out of here.”

“Ew. Steve. No. You and Pitt? You’re definitely bottom. He’s batter dipping the corn dog, not you.”

Raising his middle finger in the air, he gestures behind him to the girls as he walks out the door. 

After grabbing a coffee, Steve swings into the record store to browse for some new vinyls. The guy at the front desk is starting to get to know Steve, and he likes that the guy is comfortable enough to make recommendations or pulls a vinyl or two to save for next time Steve comes in. It makes him feel memorable. He’s little more than guy at the record store to Steve, but yet guy at the record store cared enough to think about him and what he might like even when he’s not here. 

It’s stuff like this, that he hasn’t really experienced until he moved here to the city, that makes Steve feel less than insignificant. Who would have thought that coming to a city filled to the brim with more people than he knows what to do with would make him feel more seen than a small town where everyone knows your name ever did. 

He grabs his bag, filled with three new recommendations from guy at the record store, and he’s heading for the door before the cashier yells out “Oh damn, bro. I almost forgot. Someone left this for you. It’s already paid for, so don’t worry about it, but she said you gotta hear this one.” Steve reaches out to grab the bright red sleeve and turns it over twice before slipping it into his bag. “Yeah thanks dude. See ya around.” 

He lies to himself when he thinks that the brisk pace he is walking on his way home is because the nights are turning colder in the city and he wants to get home. He lies to himself a second time when he says he wants to keep moving so he takes the stairs two at a time instead of waiting on the elevator. He lies to himself for a third time, pretending that he’s not really in a rush even though he doesn’t take off his shoes and jacket before he makes a beeline right for his record player all while unwrapping that vinyl he knows that you left for him. 

The whirring of the player and the zap of the scratching needle connecting with the plastic make his brain start to buzz and he’s done lying to himself when he thinks that he was so fucking stupid when he shouted at you - drunk out of his mind or not, he has been expecting you to never speak to him again, so…you leaving this for him might just mean…

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey

Butane in my veins and I'm out to cut the junkie

With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables

Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose

What the fuck did she leave me? He thinks, as he lets the record spin and listens, patiently. Waiting for the hook. Waiting for the bass drop. Waiting for those deep drum rhythms he likes so much. Waiting for the lyrics that are supposed to hit home.

Oh. 

Soy un perdedor

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

(Double-barrel buckshot)

“Maybe I should just move home and take a stupid job with my dad like he’s been telling me to do since junior year of high school.”

Murray hears the boy complaining as he walks through the door with three giant boxes stacked on top of one another. “Casanova. Hey!” Setting them down he snaps both his fingers right in Steve’s face “We’ve been over this… focus on my dick shop, not your dads. I got new goods, get your sweet ass over here.”

He waves Steve and Robin over to the front window, and they dutifully follow. Ripping open the boxes with a rusty pocket knife he pulls from his tube sock, Murray rambles about the boxes filled with a new Latex fashion line he was checking out at the expo. He shoos Steve off to grab the mannequins from the back storage room so they can set up the window display. “Make sure to grab the dudes with the biggest packages back there, Stevie-boy!” before looking at Robin curiously, asking her to spill the details and explain the pivot back into full on self-loathing Steve took. 

“Ah, the lady friend? She gave him that? Sassy. I think I like her. If he doesn't want her…” wiggling his eyebrows, Murray is quickly cut off as Steve re-enters the floor.

“Doesn’t want who?’ Steve says, male mannequin under each arm. 

“Oh, nothing. I gotta go get some lunch. I’ll grab the plastic girls on my way back in and you two can play dress up.” 

“Hey Stevie, whaddya think?” Robin’s got one of the black latex outfits held out in front of her as she tries anything but effortlessly shaking her hips to the beat of the song playing overhead on the speakers. The would-be seductive dance is cut off when her face lights up, running off to the break room with the package in hand.

“I don’t like that look Robbie. What are you doing?”

Shaking the beads dangling from the door frame to announce her re-entry, Steve’s eyes glance up before doing a double take. Robin stood there, leaning into the wall looking as casual as she possibly can (which isn’t that casual, honestly), standing in a full head to toe black latex catsuit. If Steve could have, he would have taken a polaroid if not just to gift to Alex as a thank you, or apology. Whatever she needs most from him - he’s not too sure at this point. Robin arches her back like she’s posing for a centerfold and it’s not long before the two of them are deep in a fit of laughter from her antics. 

Except something goes wrong. The fit of laughter soon lets up, but Robin still can’t catch her breath. Steve is breathing deep, grinning again and shaking his head at her, and while she’s happy she’s coaxing out a laugh and a smile she hasn’t seen from him in over a week, her chest is getting tighter by the second. 

Looking at his friend's pallid face, his eyes dart around thinking while she starts wheezing for air. “Rob…are you...you’re not allergic to latex, are you?”

She shakes her head no adamantly but quickly backtracks, realizing that no, she can’t be sure she’s not allergic to latex. Holding up her hands between the two of them, her wrists are ballooning up around the seam of the catsuit sleeves, body swelling up making the suit stretch over her skin even tighter. She starts to claw at it, trying to get it off, but it’s so slippery and tight, and suctioned to her sweaty skin that it won’t budge and her panicked expression locks on to Steve’s. 

“You didn’t know you were allergic to latex? What the fuck Robbie?” 

“When was I supposed to find out, huh? Not like I’ve been carrying around condoms since I was 15 like you, you asshole!”

“So what…that’s not… What about a balloon? Haven’t you ever been around a fucking balloon before, Rob?”

“Steve, I'm poor. We didn’t buy balloons for birthday parties. I didn’t get….extra…shit. I…no. I can’t remember …ever having a…. balloon.” She’s sucking in breaths between words as much as she can. “Steve, help. It’s….I can’t…”

Walking down the street, Murray is on his way back from grabbing his sandwich, when he spots the flashing lights on the street ahead. What he doesn’t expect is to see those flashing lights belonging to an ambulance pulled up outside of his store. Dropping his sandwich into the grimey gutter, he’s absolutely dumbfounded at the sight before him - Robin laid out on the stretcher, clearly naked and covered with a white sheet and his new inventory in shreds on the sidewalk after the paramedics had to cut it off of her. “Oh for fucks, sake. I didn’t literally mean you should play dress up, Red.” 

It takes the paramedics another 20 minutes to get her settled and breathing from an oxygen tank in the back of the rig and explain the situation to Murray and Steve. Her reaction was bad, so they should expect her to be down and out for at least three days until the swelling goes down and she can recover her breathing enough to function normally. Murray storms off into the store grumbling about Workers Comp paperwork and throwing his hands in the air while Steve stays back, readying himself to climb into the back of the rig and ride with his friend before she stops him. 

“Listen, dude. I’m clearly not gonna be home tonight, and you don’t need to worry about me. Don’t you dare think you’re gonna sit and keep watch at my bedside. This is definitely the only time in my life my tits will look this big, so I’m not about to invite you in. Alex gets clear first dibs before the swelling goes down.” 

Steve grimaces, scrunching his nose up in disgust “Ew, gross Robbie. Stop talking to me about your tits.” 

“Whatever. All I’m saying is, maybe take advantage of the empty house? I know she sent you a message loud and clear with that record but I still don’t buy that she won't give you a shot to explain. Call her. Please?” 

All he can do is nod as she pats his hand and smiles. He backs away so they can close up the rig and watches as they pull off, lights flashing with his swollen raspberry of a friend in tow. 

Murray ends up closing the shop early that night, saying he’s had it up to here with both of them and he just wants to go see Hop and Joyce for an ice cold drink. Before Steve could even respond, Murray’s finger is in his face “NO. You’re not invited this time, buddy. I don’t wanna see your face until tomorrow. And you have the late shift. I don’t wanna close and I think you two owe me.”

“Owe you?! What the heck, I didn’t do anything, man. Robin, she is the one that -”

“No, you listen here. Your moping and loathing is getting irritating. I like you, unfortunately. I’m not sure why, but I like you Steve, and you’ve been fucking annoying since you let your dad get in your head. And whatever is going on with this lady friend, you better fix it.” He pokes Steve right in the chest - hard.

“Is she a girl, or a woman, Steve?” he says, and Steve remembers their chat about Steve’s choices. Why they never seem to work out and how he keeps going for the wrong kind. 

“She’s … she’s a woman. Obviously. She doesn’t want to put up with my bullshit.”

“Fix it, Steve. Thank me later.” 

He had two beers before he worked up the nerve to pick up the phone. He probably would have had another, but he thought better of it considering the last time he saw you. More like the last time you saw him because he doesn’t fucking remember a lick of it. An apology probably wouldn’t go over very well if he was shitfaced again all because he needed some liquid courage to get the balls to call you up. 

It took three, long, agonizing rings for you to pick up, your voice suddenly some sort of beacon in the night for him. He was silent for a beat too long, and just when you went to hang up muttering “whatever asshole, prank call someone else next time” he finally was able to whisper out your name just loud enough that it traveled through the phone line and made it to your ears. 

“You got my record?” 

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I deserved that… and it’s actually good.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know. Can I see you?”

And to his surprise, you agreed. You asked him to meet you outside, so you can walk to the cafe together. Promised in a way that had him believing it would all be fine - that you’ll figure it out from there. So he’s sitting on the bench outside of his building waiting, legs bouncing up and down uncontrollably mind weight down from anticipation, nerves and his least favorite piece of baggage, self-doubt. 

“You look like you’re waiting on something, boy. Don't wait too long, or you’ll end up looking like me and still never finding what you’re lookin’ for, ya know?”

Steve chuckles and nods. He thinks he does know. And God, he doesn’t want to spend his life chasing an idea and running away every time he gets close because he’s sure he’s not good enough for it. He doesn’t want to be sitting on a bench when he’s 80 lamenting about how he used to look good, had the good hair before it all fell out and turned gray, would get the girls and throw the parties, could pound back a six pack like it’s no big deal, how he was the former Keg King - King Steve. Like that all means anything at all. None of it did. It was all bullshit. 

“I’m Steve” he says, holding his hand out and reaching across the bench. The man reaches out accepting his grasp and introduces himself as Robert.“You live here too?” he nods back at the apartment building. 

“Sure do. Me and my little rascal Dart.” and Steve notices the small dog laying quietly at the man’s feet. 

“What you said before…I am waiting on something. Someone actually. But…I think I’m mostly waiting on myself.” 

“Ah, yes. That’s the age old problem innit? We’re always late to our own party. Been in this city for decades and it’s all the same. Young kids like you are lost until they find what they’re looking for, but some of ‘em, they never find it. No one leads ‘em to it and they forget that it’s even worth lookin’ for along the way.” 

Steve nods, a little solemnly, at the wisdom the old man is sharing. Resonating just a bit closer to home than the old man probably knows. But then he sees a flash of you from down the sidewalk, your jacket wrapped tight around your body, a tentative smile on your face when you see Steve waiting for you like he promised. 

“Ah,” the man laughs a hearty laugh. “She looks like she’s worth waiting for though, my boy. You should go.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Steve says with a bright smile, and it’s genuine. Maybe she's worth it? Or Maybe Steve will see the old man again. He's not sure which he meant, actually. Maybe…both. 

The walk to the cafe seems to go on for eons. After an interaction teetering on awkward, feet pushing at invisible rocks on the pavement and tentative smiles, you both head in that direction side by side, stealing glances for a block or two before either one breaks the silence.

It seems like both of you have let the dull drone of the city take up enough space in the night and you finally speak up at the same time. 

“I am sorry for being such a mess.”

“I'm sorry for being a bitch.”

“No. No.” You cut him off. “Yeah you're right. You were a mess and you were kind of a dick about it. I'm not gonna excuse that. But you were a mess, and Robin and Alex were worried for good reason, obviously. You were a mess because something happened and I can't be mad at that. I can be frustrated with how you handled yourself…how you treated people who were just there to fucking help you, man, but at the end of the day, you were going through some shit and…I held it against you instead of helped. And then I got you that record and…”

“I…yeah I should not have drank my problems like that. I shouldn't have. I was an idiot. I am an idiot. That song is…not that far off. Might be my theme song, actually.” He holds back a small laugh to himself. “I do stupid shit. That's not new. But…I wasn't mad at anyone until -”

“You sure seemed mad, Steve.”

“I was…it's just. I guess I'm realizing now I wasn't actually mad at anyone but myself and my dad until you showed up.”

“Correct. You made that loud and clear.”

“Oh. I -” silence falls over them for a few steps, Steve finally looking over at you in a way that makes you feel like he's looking into you not at you this time. “I think I finally understand. Can…can I try and explain? Once we get there?”

You nod. And you let him. 

Like a floodgate, the honesty Steve holds back on a regular basis flows out the minute he starts. Tucked in the back corner of the cafe, a steaming hot chai in front of you, a black coffee with cinnamon and nutmeg there in front of him, he tells you how growing up actually felt for him. Not just the my dad is an asshole version but how it really affected him. He says it out loud and admits the way his dad made him feel. Tells you stories about all the sports and the winning and the popularity that was never what he wanted anyway. Tells you how his dad has spent his whole life grooming him to be a mini-version of Mr Harrington, and that's the absolute last thing in the world he wants to be. He just wants to be Steve - whoever that is. 

And he cries. He cries when he tells you about the phone call. You notice it's not at the mean things his dad says to him, the names he's called or the put downs about his life that break him down - it's when he tells you about the disdain in his dads voice when he berates him about being friends with the gays. How he couldn't look at Robin after the way his dad talked and how he felt more shame in that moment than any other. Not ashamed that he’s friends with Robin. Not in a million years, but more from the idea that his dad - no anyone - would be lucky to find a friend half as good as Robin is, so who the fuck cares who she loves, right? Jesus Christ. Shame that someone he loves has to live in a world where people like his dad exist. 

You both need a refill before he can get through the hard part, though, the part where he hurt you. Steve motions to your empty cup asking if he can get you more and before you know it, comes back a short time later with two new steaming mugs and plates of assorted pastries and snacks balancing on top. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got it all. 

Something tells you that even if you don't actually say it, Steve would know for next time. He'd know that you're a sucker for their blondies and like to snack on their homemade caramel corn because even as he's spilling his guts he's paying attention to you, and from here on out every time you meet Steve Harrington at the cafe, he'd have your drink and a plate with a blondie on it waiting for you every single time. 

Then, Steve tells you about that day. About how he remembers chain-smoking inside the house and how he knew Robin would fuck me up for it but I didn’t care. He recalls for you how he sat on the sofa with the whiskey bottle muttering to himself about the things his dad said, trying to figure out why this man thinks he can still push his grown son around. He tells you he remembers leaving to get another 6-pack when he ran out but that was the last of it. He doesn't remember much of anything or how he got to Benny's. Hop had told him, and he makes sure to remind him every time he's seen him since that he was pitiful watching Steve being drug in by the drunkest man on the block. Never thought I'd see the day anyone was more drunk than goddamn Rick, boy. Sure proved me wrong. 

And when he gets to the part where his friends show up, when you show up, he looks downright ashamed and worried. With a deep sigh, falling from his lips, he tells you that the next and only other thing he remembers from that night was you walking through the door. With his head lain on the bar, vision completely sideways, what he saw was a fucking angel walking into the bar. Thought he was hallucinating or maybe even finally out of his misery and you were coming to bring him towards the light, until his brain made you right side up and he realized who it was. 

He didn’t remember the yelling, but Robin told him later how big of a douchebag he was when all he did was start yelling at you and making one hell of a scene. Hearing Robin tell him about how he shouted and asked in such an accusatory tone What are you doing here? made him wonder if he was no better than his dad in the first place. Sounded an awful lot like him in the moment, at least. 

You think he looks like a kicked puppy as he explains the rest. “I - I don't expect you to say anything. Or do anything. I don't expect you to forgive me or…” running his hands through his hair you can tell he's trying to pluck up some semblance of courage. 

“The thing is, I was mad when my drunk brain finally registered that you were there, and you were there to help. Because I didn't want that. Help sure…I fucking needed help. You saw me. But you….” His swallow is so loud it's audible. 

“I was embarrassed I didn't want you to see me like that. I… “

Reaching across the table you gently touch his forearm and it gives him enough courage to finish what he has to say. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, because I like you too much…Like, the real kind. And I feel so stupid saying it out loud, because I thought that if I showed you how broken I was, you’d see that I wasn’t worth it. Maybe you don’t think I am in the first place and that’s fine I can be just your friend. S’probably all I deserve, honestly.” 

He chances a look at you just then, and when it’s not a scowl or indifference he feels safe rough to continue. “Before I didn’t know why I was being such a jerk and I figured it was just because - I am a Harrington, after all. But, I understand why I did it now. I understand that even though I did it wrong, I was trying to protect you from me, and I was trying to protect myself from… ”

Scooting your chair closer to Steve, you push his wild and windswept hair back so you can see him even when his head is hanging low. His eyes flit up to yours and there’s no pity in your eyes. He was expecting pity at the very least, but it’s not there.

“Steve, who says I need to be protected? Especially from you?”

He doesn’t expect your fingers to find his on the walk away from the cafe. He doesn’t expect your touch to be soft. He doesn’t expect it to stay longer than a second - maybe just the gift of something fleeting. But it is. It does. Your fingers hook into his and they don’t pull away, holding on to him and his limp hand before he can even process what he’s being given. Fingers hooked and coaxing him to just let go and embrace it. Fingers he accepts as he laces his with yours, and they stay that way for the entire walk back to his apartment. 

—-

A nod of the head with a huge grin spread across his face, Robert welcomes Steve back to the building, still perched on the same bench he walked away from a few hours ago. Maybe Dart needed to go out again, or maybe Robert never left, but in that moment, Steve thought about everything the old man said to him earlier. He’s done with waiting. Waiting has gotten him nowhere. Hiding his feelings has gotten him nowhere. The only person standing in his way is himself. 

Your name falls from his lips softly, but there’s something there that wasn’t there earlier in the shop. It’s more sure of himself, almost confident. The predictable thing to come next was a goodnight kiss on his front stoop, and you’re thinking that maybe after all this time and him finally admitting that he’s into you, you’ll get what you’ve been wanting since that night in the back seat of the cab, or when you felt your tummy flip sitting across from him eating that ice cream. Poised to lift up on your toes to close the distance, instead he surprises you when he tugs your arm and pulls you inside the front door to his building with a grin. 

And you got that kiss. Oh God, did you get it. 

When the door closed to their apartment, Steve turned around to look at you. There was a heat behind his eyes as he slid your coat off of your shoulders for you, and a yearning hiding there when he looks up at you from below as he crouches down to help you slip off your shoes. Rising back up in front of you he’s close. So close that his lips are just barely apart from yours and the heat of his breath tickles your cheeks. The pair of you are so close that there’s barely any space between your bodies when you suddenly find your back pressed up against the door behind you. 

Lips finally touching, slow and just barely you breathe out “Robin…” 

“That’s not my name, honey.”

And you laugh. A sweet thing that makes Steve’s insides twist and turn.

“She won’t be home tonight. There was some latex…She’s fine. I’ll explain later.”

The kiss you finally get is sloppy, but in the best way. There’s no time for chaste kisses here, pillowy lips slotted together and moving effortlessly between one another. He adjusts your chin with the tips of his fingers so that he can gently caress the line of your jaw, following it back down and up again as he slides his fingers through the base of your hair. His grip there is tight, but not painful, Possessive but not overwhelming. It’s like he’s got something he wants so desperately and he’s afraid to let it go. 

He gently touches your upper lip with the tip of his tongue, coaxing you open further for him, letting his tongue follow the outlines of your teeth before letting his dance together with yours. He lets out a small sigh as you continue to nip at each other's lips and play with how you both respond to one another's kiss. The sigh makes your mouth crack open in a smile, cheeks drawing up with the grin and encouraging his kisses to explore elsewhere. Small pecks start on the corner of your mouth and then your cheeks, right on the apple of them as their pulled taught by your smile. 

Moving down towards your jaw, your neck, they get more and more salacious the lower they get. Red and pricking, a bruise is blooming at the spot on your neck just under your ear where he settles in to suck and kiss at your skin while the whimper that falls from your lips as he does it and your fingertips running through his hair and scratching at his scalp keep him grounded - barely capable of holding it together as is. 

When you ask him what he wants, the answer he gives you is not one you expected. Sure you expected him to want to dote on you - after all, he’s attentive like that on any given day, so Steve being a giver in the sheets was almost…a given? But when his gasping breaths punctuate each word that comes out of his mouth Can you … I want you to ride my face? was a pleasant surprise. 

Now surprising him, you not only agreed, but were confident about it. “Always wanted this. No…no one would let me.” He tells you as he breathes into you, chest heaving, foreheads touching. He barely notices as you pull the top of your dress down and work it over your shoulders, then the swell of your breasts. He only registers your exposed skin as you guide his hands down to your waist so he can hold you steady as you step out of it. 

Coaxing him backwards towards the sofa, you tap his shoulder and tell him to sit down on the floor, back against the furniture, as you make a show of removing your bra. He does as you ask, unable to tear his eyes away from your supple skin and perfectly peaked nipples, making a mental note that later he absolutely has to get his mouth on them. As you shimmy down your underwear in front of him, you pause to add a kiss to the top of his head before dropping the garment directly in his lap.

He bunches them up in his hand, sliding them into his front pocket for later as you settle over him, “Y’know…they call this Queening?” perched there on your knees, you’re fully undressed and slotted above his face so casually. 

“Mmmm. Makes sense.” He says, against the seam of your pussy and your thighs, making you vibrate with his words and his gentle hum. 

“R’mind me to tell you why one day.”

“Mmmmhmm. Sure thing.” In a haze, he reaches around you, fingers digging into your supple ass and pulling you closer. Forward and over, just where he wants you. The perfect position where he can use both his mouth and his nose - just like Robin told him he should.  Head moving subtly left to right, he tests it out, tip of his nose gently nudging your clit left to right and right to left and his warm breath teasing your wet, glistening folds. You let out a gasp followed by a small breathy little uhh, that has his ears ringing and he’s happy. Pleased with his position, he slips his tongue out and traces you with it, before returning with a big, firm lick - tongue flattened and wide making sure you touch all of you in one pass. Those big hands wrap further around you, now snaking over the tops of your thighs and this time tugging you down. Down down down and there’s nowhere else to go. 

Now you’ve had some fine oral sex before. It’s a non-negotiable for you when it comes to relationships: If a man is worried about tasting your clit, you don’t want him. You’re worth more than that. You’ve even done this a time or two, but Steve nestled between your thighs, under you like this fully clothed and pulling you into his face further despite there not being anywhere else to go is otherworldly.  

Other times you’ve found yourself in this position were tactical. A position change, a new angle, just for fun, a lazy guy. But being perched on top of Steve Harrington’s face is making you feel like a true goddess. You were about to give him a history lesson and tell him why this is called Queening and instead he’s proving it to you. Making you feel just like one.

Between smooth glides of his tongue, Steve sucks at your lips, your clit, the seam of your thigh. Once you’ve settled and allow yourself to fully relax over top of him, he releases his bruising grip - perfect tiny crescents left behind in their wake - and uses those free hands wherever he can reach. Sliding up your spine, ghosting over the peach of your ass, along the curve of your backside and between them, too. 

You’re not quiet anymore. You couldn’t be if you tried, and if you weren’t muffling the sounds coming from him with your thighs, you’re pretty sure the symphony of both of your moans would be enough to tip you over the edge. Since his are busy elsewhere, your hands find their way to your tits, rolling your nipples between your fingers and throwing your head back in pleasure as you start to absentmindedly grind on his face. 

He lets you bask in your pleasure for a while before tugging you out of your daze, hands covering the small of your back, pulling and angling you forward so that your hands fall to the arm of the sofa behind him. Now, leaning over him, soft and subtle grinding returning like muscle memory, he takes the opportunity to slide his fingers in from behind, just alongside his mouth. Thick digits slipping inside, scissoring alongside the wet muscle of his tongue, nose nudging your clit between deep rolls of your hips against him, he notices the twitching of your velvety walls first, followed by the shaking of your thighs. 

Freeing his hands, he finds your legs again, if only to hold you down to ride out your climax, combating how badly your sensitive body is trying to pull away, just slightly. The work he’s putting in on your pussy is paying off tenfold when you tremble and shake above him. Unable to move from the vice grip he has on your legs, you have no choice but to cry out and let him lap at you, drink you up until you're overstimulated and begging him to stop. 

Limp and satiated, you easily fall into his arms as he moves up between you and the couch, pulling you into his lap. Your head lolls forward has he grabs your cheeks to look at you “Y’feel good baby? Y’feel like a Queen?” 

You nod, dazed but eager and happy as he lifts you and stands. Legs wrapping around his hips while he peppers you with kisses that taste like your own pleasure, he carries you down the hallway to his room. 

Kicking open the door, he stalks over to his bed and tosses you onto it without a second thought.  Looking up at him with big doe eyes, he knows he’s done for. He can’t move fast enough as he loosened his belt and tugs down his pants. Crawling over you on his bed, he nudges that nose against yours again to get your attention. “You wanna? We don’t have to y’know?”

“Steve Harrington, I want to so bad, I’m gonna make you forget your name.” 

TAGLIST: @livsters @katie-tibo @johnrichardpapen @angywritesstuff @k-k0129 @tisthedamngoldrush @middle-of-the-sky @thebrazilianatheist @mochminnie @micheledawn1975 @falling-throughthe-hourglass @rafaaoli @ash5monster01 @gabessock @onyxslayss @scoopshxrrington @superblysubpar

[twohearts-hs]

Always & Forever Thirteen - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 5.7k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, Abortion, & Angst.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

February 2013

The honeymoon phase came to an end. The week ended and she knew she would be moving out of Marshall’s and back into her own apartment. It was for the better. Their relationship was still so fresh. However, Stevie was so young, and they did not want to be a moment in their life and if Marshall and Y/N break up, she does not want that to impact Stevie.

Marshall and Y/N had a conversation about when she would move back in. However, it got messy fast. Y/N was packing her suitcase with some of her clothes while stealing some of Marshall’s as he came in with cups of tea.

Setting them down, he sat on the bed.

“It’s not like we are breaking up,” Y/N said softly trying to reassure both him and herself. “This is just for a moment.”

Marshall nodded, but the pain was evident in his eyes. “I know. It just sucks…you know? I was getting so used to having you here and it felt so right.”

Y/N stood up from her suitcase and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know. It felt right for me too. But, this is still so fresh and we need to have space for ourselves and focus on our lives.”

He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I literally live fifteen minutes away and when Stevie is at sleepovers or at their Mom’s, you can stay at my place or I can come to yours.”

“I just like sleeping with you,” he mused, tucking her hair behind her ear, “and having sex with you.”

Y/N rolled her head back in laughter. “I like those too, but this is what healthy couples do.”

Marshall nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. Once a week. Friday. You, me, it’s a date in the sheets and we sleep till noon and then we make breakfast and watch shitty TV until dinner.”

Y/N nodded. “I like that.”

However, as Y/N continued to pack Marshall watched. “When can you move in?” he asked. “I want to be with you. I want you here. I want us to be serious, exclusive and forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Y/N heard those words and froze…forever. That was a loaded word and she had not thought it through. Forever with Marshall…that sounded beautiful. However, they hadn’t had that conversation.

Y/N was graduating in June, and she was going to go do her masters but she is unsure where. She was hoping for Michigan but it's wherever she gets accepted and what scholarships.

“Marshall,” she said lowly turned around to see him on the bed.

“That sounds bad. Now you’re scaring me.”

“I am so happy,” she began taking his hand and kissing it, “that you’re thinking of the future. I love how things are going between us, and I know we have talked about me moving in one day.”

He slowly nodded and raised a brow. “I have thought a lot about us, Y/N. I want us to build a life together. I know we have not been together long, nor do I want to rush things but I see us in ten years.”

How was she going to tell him…

She squeezed his hand, her expression growing serious. “I love being with you and I can see us living together and being together in the future, but there is something we need to talk about.”

He could sense the hesitation in her voice and felt a knot forming in his stomach. “What is it?”

Y/N took another deep breath, looking down at their intertwined hands. “Well, I applied to master’s programs in September. We were not talking then. We weren’t together then. Therefore, I applied thinking I could go anywhere.”

He slowly nodded but his heart sank. “Well, I am proud you want to proceed with your master’s but where is the program?”

“Well I did apply to stay here,” she said and his eyes widened.

“That’s great-“

But, she cut him off, “However, I want to work with this one professor and they are waiting about a job offer at Columbia. If Dr. Beau gets moved to Columbia, he has agreed to be my mentor and-“

“Where is Columbia?” he cut her off.

“New York City.” Y/N hesitated to feel the weight of Marshall’s reaction. His face instantly fell, and for a moment, he did not say anything. The room felt heavy with the unspoken tension.

“Columbia…New York City,” Marshall repeated quietly, his voice betraying a mix of disappointment and resignation.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, her gaze fixed on their hands. She could sense his uncertainty, his fear of what her ambitions might mean for their relationship.

“That’s…far,” Marshall finally said, his tone tinged with sadness.

“I know,” Y/N replied softly, squeezing his hand gently. “And I don’t know if I get in or if Dr. Beau will even move. It’s just an option, Marshall. It’s not definite.”

Marshall nodded slowly, but his eyes revealed the turmoil within. “But it’s a possibility. And you’d move there…for school.”

“It’s not just about school,” Y/N explained, trying to find the right words. “It’s an opportunity a chance to work without someone I admire. You know how important this is to me.”

“I do,” Marshall said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But what about us?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the ache of this. “I want us to work, Marshall. But I also need to think about my future, about what’s best for my career.”

He nodded again, but the distance between them felt palpable now, life a gulf widening with each passing moment.

“Marshall, we could do long distance?”

“And you would come back to Michigan? Like once a month or every weekend or every six months? I can’t come to New York City, Y/N! I have daughters and their mom is here. My company is here. My music is here. I am a Detroiter for life,” he said with anger.

Y/N’s heart sank as Marshall’s words hung heavily in the air. She had not fully grasped how deeply rooted Marshall’s life was here, tied to his responsibilities as a father. The weight of his concern for his daughters underscored the gravity of their situation.

“I understand, Marshall,” Y/N said softly, trying to keep her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “I know it’s not simple. I didn’t mean to overlook your situation.”

Marshall rubbed his temples, his expression torn between love and practicality. “I want to support you, Y/N. I really do. But, moving to New York…it’s a whole different world from here.”

“I didn’t mean to spring this on you,” Y/N murmured, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “I thought…I hoped we could figure it out together.”

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. “I want us to figure it out too. But right now, I just…I don’t know how we can make this work.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a pang of fear gripping her. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I don’t have answers right now,” Marshall admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. But, I have my daughters, my career and my life to think about.”

“I get it,” she whispered, kissing his lips. “I just thought to tell you now.”

“When do you find out?”

“End of the month.”

He nodded, getting up and rubbing his hands on his thigh before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Then we will figure out once we are at that point.”

-

The day came when Y/N moved back to her old apartment. It was a bittersweet moment, filled with both relief and sadness. They spent the last almost two months with Marshall in his home, intertwined in each other’s lives, navigating the complexities of their relationship. Now when they entered, she had this pang of pity.

Marshall carried her bags into the studio apartment, and he carried an expression of solemnity and regret. They spoke a little, both lost in their thoughts, avoiding the inevitable goodbye that loomed ahead.

It was Friday and Y/N worked Saturday and Sunday. Therefore, they might not see each other till next week which was crazy in their eyes as they saw each other every day.

Y/N began to unpack her stuff and placed it in the closet. While Marshall flicked through her sketchbooks and textbooks. When she turned around, she saw him linger in the corner.

“I guess we bid goodbye,” she whispered. “I will miss you,” she stated.

“I’ll see you soon and you can always call me,” he said squeezing her shoulder; however it was awkward. “What are you going to do this evening?”

“Write a paper and read my readings for class. You?”

“I am going to the studio. We are finalising the album.”

Y/N walked up to him and went on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she hummed.

“Love you more. I guess I go now,” he said and she squeezed his hand. “Call me later?” he asked.

She nodded giving him a final kiss before opening the door for him to leave.

-

In the dimly lit studio, Marshall sat hunched over his notebook, pen tapping against his lips as he stared at the lyrics sprawled across the page. The soundproof walls echoed with the faint hum of music playing from the mixing booth, but his mind was elsewhere.

He could not shake the image of Y/N’s apartment, the quiet solitude that now enveloped her absence. The scent of her perfume lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of her presence that he longed to hold onto. Each lyric he penned seemed to echo with her name, every beat a heartbeat that throbbed with the ache of missing her.

It is funny how one gets so used to someone’s presence.

He tapped his pen against the notebook rhythmically, trying to capture the melody of his emotions. The studio buzzed around him with producers and engineers fine-tuning tracks, but his focus wavered, drifting back to memories of shared moments and whispered promises.

His voice cracked as he tried to lay down vocals, the raw emotion of longing seeping into each word. The music swirled around him, a tempest of sound that mirrored the storm inside his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her face, the warmth of her touch, the way she fit perfectly against him.

Hours passed; it was nearing midnight and he poured his heart into the music. He found himself replaying their conversation, her laughter ringing in his ears like a cherished melody. The studio became his sanctuary and his prison, a place where he could pour out his feelings yet remained haunted by her absence.

He found it incredibly hard.

-

The night stretched long and heavy around Y/N as she lay in her bed, the silence of her apartment echoing louder than ever. It was the first time in months that she slept alone, without Marshall’s comforting presence beside her. She tossed and turned, trying to find a position that would ease the ache in her heart and quiet the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Memories flooded back with relentless persistence; each one tinged with the bittersweet nostalgia of times spent with Marshall. However, amidst the fond collections, darker shadows lurked…Jake lived here. The last time she slept here, she was bruised and abused.

Y/N rolled over, grabbing her phone and dialling his number as her fingers trembled. It was three in the morning, and she could not sleep.

“Y/N?” his voice was groggy.

“Marshall,” she whispered

“Doll,” his voice was groggy but immediately filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “This place feels…empty and just the last time I slept here… There is just a lot of memories.”

Marshall sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Do you want me to come over?”

Y/N hesitated, knowing it was late and he had been working hard all day. “No, I just…needed to hear your voice. Everything feels different here without you.”

“I miss you,” he said softly. “It’s weird not having you here.”

She sighed, feeling a little comforted by his words. “It’s more than that. Being back here brings up…bad memories. Memories of Jake.”

Marshall’s heart clenched at the mention of her ex. He knew how deeply those memories scarred her. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could take those memories away.”

“Just hearing your voice helps,” she said, a small smile forming on her lips. “Can you talk to me? Tell me about your day. Anything to distract me.”

“Of course,” he replied, leaning back against the headboard. “Well, the studio was intense. We’re finalising the album and it’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. We are trying to figure out a name. I kept thinking about you, though. Every song seemed to have a piece of you in it.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting his voice wash over her. “I wish I could have been there with you.”

“Me too,” Marshall said, his voice gentle. “But we’ll get through this. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

She listened as he continued talking about the album, the challenges they faced, and moments of inspiration. His voice was a soothing balm, easing the tension in her heart. For a while, she could almost forget the emptiness of her apartment and the weight of their uncertain future.

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling a sense of calm settle over her.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than anything,” Marshall replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “Try to get some rest, ok? I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Night,” she whispered before hanging up.

Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her. She curled up in bed, holding onto the sound of his voice like a lifeline. The night felt a little less lonely, and she finally drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Marshall.

However, Y/N knew she had to get out of this apartment. There was too many memories.

-

Y/N sat in the waiting room of the counselling centre, her heart pounding as she glanced around the room. It was sparsely decorated, with soothing pastel walls and a few potted plants scattered about. The receptionist, a kind-looking woman in her fifties, offered her a reassuring smile as she checked her in.

“Y/N, Dr. Stevens will see you now,” the receptionist said gently gesturing towards a door at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood up and made her way to the door, her mind swirling with thoughts about Jake, Marshall and the decision that had weighed heavily on her heart. She knocked lightly before entering, finding Dr. Stevens sitting behind a large wooden desk, his expression warm and inviting.

“Please, have a seat,” Dr. Stevens said, motioning to the comfortable chair opposite of him.

Y/N settled into the chair, feeling the weight of the past few months bearing down on her. Dr. Stevens observed her for a moment before speaking.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you again. How have you been since our last session?” he asked softly.

She nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been ok, I guess. It’s just…everything feels overwhelming.”

“Why don’t we begin with what’s been happening recently?” Dr. Stevens suggested. “Last time, we touched on your past with Jake and your relationship with Marshall. How are you feeling about those now?”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I am going to move. I had a few apartment viewings. I can’t be in my studio, it’s too much. I haven’t told Marshall yet as I don’t know how he will react. Either he will be in favour, or he will ask for me to move in. I don’t think moving in with his wise even though I want to. We rushed this relationship so much; we can’t rush any further. Jake haunts me. I still have nightmares. He is like this shadow that is always there.”

Dr. Stevens nodded; his expression serious. “I’m sorry you went through that, Y/N. Abuse leaves deep scars, both physically and emotionally. It’s important that we address these experiences and how they’re affecting you now.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to move on, but it’s hard. Especially now that I’m with Marshall. He’s been so good to me, but I can’t help feeling like I’m bringing all the baggage into our relationship.”

“Tell me more about Marshall,” Dr. Stevens encouraged. “How has he been supporting you through this?”

“Marshall…he’s amazing,” Y/N said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He’s patient, and understanding, and he makes me feel safe. But I worry that my past with Jake is going to ruin what we have. Marshall has his own struggles too. He’s a recovering addict, and I don’t want to be a burden on him.”

Dr. Stevens leaned forward slightly. "It's clear that you care deeply for Marshall. It's also important to recognize that healing from trauma is a process, and it's okay to seek support from those who care about you. Have you and Marshall talked about your concerns?"

Y/N nodded. “We’ve talked, but it’s complicated. I don’t want to push him away, but I also don’t want to hold him back. He has so much going on with recovery and his music career, and then there’s his daughters. I just don’t know how to balance everything.”

"Balancing your needs and the needs of your partner is a delicate task," Dr. Stevens said thoughtfully. "It's essential to communicate openly and honestly about your feelings and concerns. You both need to understand each other's boundaries and support systems. Have you considered couples counselling?"

The suggestion caught Y/N off guard. "Couples counselling? I hadn't thought about that."

"It can be incredibly beneficial for both of you," Dr. Stevens explained. "It provides a neutral space where you can explore your relationship dynamics and develop healthy communication strategies. It might help you both feel more secure and supported."

Y/N considered this, nodding slowly. "That might be a good idea. I just want to do what's best for both of us."

Dr. Stevens smiled warmly. "It's clear that you have a lot of strength and resilience, Y/N. You're taking important steps towards healing and building a healthy future. Let's continue to work on your individual progress, and if you're open to it, we can discuss how to incorporate couples counselling into your journey."

As the session continued, Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her. It wasn't going to be easy, but for the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful about the future – a future where she could heal from the past and build something beautiful with Marshall.

Dr. Stevens paused for a moment, his expression growing more serious. "Y/N, there's something else I'd like us to talk about today, something you mentioned briefly in our last session, but we didn't explore deeply. Your abortion."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, the weight of that memory crashing down on her. She hadn’t wanted to face it, hadn’t wanted to bring it up again. But she knew it was a pivotal part of her journey.

“It was…one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. I did not want to make it, but there was no other option,” she began voice trembling. “I found out I was pregnant just after things ended with Jake. I was scared, alone and I did not know how to bring a child into that chaos.”

“Did Marshall know?”

“Yes. He was there when it I took the abortion pills. However, I feel like he has not forgive me for that decision as I made it without him. I think it was his. I did the math, and it was Marshall’s. However, I am twenty-one almost twenty-two…I can’t be a mom.”

“Do you want to me a mom eventually?”

“Maybe,” she eventually said after a while. “I was told that I could not have children so for me to get pregnant made me think it was fate. However, I am with Marshall, and I doubt he wants another baby as he has three daughters already. He is older too. Like a lot older.” Dr. Stevens nodded. “I might be moving to New York City and Marshall did not take that well.”

“Let’s unpack that,” Dr. Stevens said gently. “You have a lot on your plate. The potential move to New York City, your relationship with Marshall, and the aftermath of your abortion. These are significant stressors. You’re also a student who is going to be graduating. How are you feeling about each of these individually?”

Y/N sighed, trying to organise her thoughts. “The move…it’s exciting but terrifying. I want to pursue my career, but I don’t want to lose Marshall. He’s been my rock and thinking about being so far from him is hard.”

“And the abortion?” Dr. Stevens prompted.

“That’s complicated,” Y/N admitted. “I know it was the right decision at the time, but it still haunts me. Sometimes I wonder if Marshall resents me for it, even though he was supportive. I feel like I’m carrying this guilt, and it’s affecting everything.”

“It’s important to acknowledge your feelings,” Dr. Steven said. “It’s ok to have mixed emotions about difficult decisions. Have you talked to Marshall about how you feel?”

“Not really,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I think I’m afraid of what he might say. What if he does resent me? What if it changes how he sees me?”

“Open communication is crucial,” Dr. Stevens advised. “It’s natural to gear vulnerability, but it might also bring you closer. You mentioned he was supportive during the abortion. That indicates a strong foundation of care and understanding.”

Y/N nodded, taking in his words. “I know you’re right. I just…it’s hard.”

“I understand,” Dr. Stevens said. “Let’s focus on steps you can take to address these feelings. Perhaps start with a conversation with Marshall about the abortion. Express your feelings and listen to his. It could help in healing and moving forward."

"I'll try," Y/N said, her voice wavering slightly.

"And regarding the potential move," Dr. Stevens continued, "it's essential to keep communicating your plans and fears. Maybe even involve him in the decision-making process. It might make him feel more included and less like it's a choice between your future and him."

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit more grounded. "Okay. I'll talk to him. I want to make this work."

"Good," Dr. Stevens said, smiling warmly. "You're doing great, Y/N. Healing is a journey, and you're taking important steps. Let's continue working on this together."

Y/N walked out of the counselling session and left the building to see Marshall’s car in front of the building. He did offer to drive them back to his place as it was Friday and that means it was date night.

Marshall spotted her as she walked to the Aston Martin. Y/N opened the door and got in.

“Hey, doll,” he said, leaning over a pressing a kiss to her lips.

“You’re all stubble,” she whispered chuckling cupping his jaw. “You need to shave.”

“Yeah, I know,” he hummed. “Anyway, haven’t seen you in a while. How was your week? I missed you.”

“I miss you more,” she replied. “Week was good. Worked on a paper and an exam. Work was fine.”

Marshall nodded as he pulled out of the parking spot. “How was therapy?”

“It was intense,” Y/N admitted. “We talked about a lot of things including…the abortion.”

Marshall’s face tensed, a flicker of discomfort passing through his eyes. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this before. I thought we are moving past it.”

“I know,” Y/N said gently. “But it’s still a part of our story, and it’s affecting me in ways I didn’t fully realise until today.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before gripping the wheel. “What did the therapist say?”

“Dr. Stevens think it’s important for us to address it,” Y/N explained. “it’s something that still weighs heavily on me, and I need to talk about it with you, honestly and openly.”

Marshall’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, I know it was a difficult decision for you, but bringing it up again…it feels like we’re reopening old wounds.”

“I understand that,” Y/N said softly, reaching for his hand. "But if we don't talk about it, those wounds won't heal. I need to process what happened, and I need your support in doing that."

Marshall's eyes met hers, filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I support you, Y/N. But it's hard for me too. Knowing it might have been my child... it's a lot to handle."

"I know," Y/N whispered, squeezing his hand. "I didn't want to bring this up to hurt you. I just want us to move forward in a healthy way."

He took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "What do you need from me?"

"I need us to be able to talk about these things without feeling like we're falling apart," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "I need to know that we can face our past and still have a future together."

Marshall nodded slowly. "I want that too. It's just... hard."

“I know. However, Marshall, there is something else Dr. Stevens suggested,” she began carefully. “He thinks it might be helpful for us to go to couple’s therapy.”

Marshall’s brows furrowed, and his grip tightened on the wheel. “Couple’s therapy?” he repeated, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “Why would we need that?”

Y/N could see the walls going up, and she gently squeezed his hand that was sitting on the console. “It’s not that there’s something wrong with us, but we’ve been through a lot. Therapy could help us communicate better and understand each other more deeply.”

Marshall shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t see the point, Y/N. We’re talking now, aren’t we? We’re working through things. Why bring a stranger into our relationship?”

“It’s not about bringing a stranger in,” Y/N explained, trying to stay calm. “It’s about having someone who can guide us and help us navigate these difficult conversations. We’ve both been hurt, and I think it could be beneficial.”

“I just don’t see it, Y/N. I feel like you’re making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be. We don’t need therapy to tell us how to love each other.”

Y/N felt a pang of hurt but tried to stay composed. “It’s not about love, Marshall. It’s about understanding each other better and healing together. We’ve both been through a lot and both of us are carrying a lot of pain.”

Marshall glanced over at her, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. “I get that you’re hurting, but why does everything have to be so complicated? Can’t we just move on and be happy without digging up the past all the time?”

“Because ignoring the past won’t make it go away,” Y/N said her voice trembling slightly. “I want us to be happy too, but we can’t pretend everything is fine. We need to address our issues, not sweep them under the rug.”

“We don’t have issues though. We are a normal couple. I feel like we’re constantly stuck in this cycle of pain and talking about it over and over again is exhausting.” Then he sighed. “I will think about it, but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Y/N softly said. “Just think about it.”

-

They got home and Marshall got Y/N’s overnight bag out of the car before walking into the house. Marshall went to put the kettle in while Y/N sat on the couch. The tension was still heavy, but she did not regret the conversation.

Her phone began to ring, and Y/N quickly answered it. After a few moments of listening, a smile spread across her face. “Thank you so much! I’ll come by tomorrow to sign the lease. Does a six-month lease work?” She nodded. “Thanks again!”

Y/N hung up and took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She would be moving into a new place beginning of March.

Marshall walked in, holding two mugs. “Who was that?” he asked, handing her a tea.

Y/N took the mug, her fingers warming against the ceramic. “I applied for a new apartment and I just got approved. I will be moving on the first.”

Marshall’s expression shifted from curiosity to confusion. “You got approved for an apartment? You’re moving? What about your place? Is the lease up or something?”

Y/N set the mug down, trying to gather her thoughts. “I am on a month to month so I can end the lease when I want. However, I can’t be in that apartment anymore. It haunts me. I need something new.”

Marshall’s face hardened and crossed his arms. “Where is it?” Y/N said the location and his face fell. “That is like a thirty-minute drive from here. What’s the rent?” Y/N told him. “That is a lot of money, Y/N. That is more than what you pay now.”

“It’s bigger. It’s a thousand square feet, with a bedroom and not a studio. I can have space for my art stuff. There is a balcony. A gym.”

He slowly nodded. “So, your idea of taking care of yourself is moving farther away from me?”

“It’s not about moving away from you,” Y/N said softly grabbing his hand. “It’s about having a place where I can focus on my healing, where I can process everything without constant reminders. We’re still together, but this something I need to do for myself.”

He nodded and sat next to her. “Ok, I guess. I mean I guess I get it. That’s fine.”

“I’m not asking for your approval. I am not asking for permission. I needed to do this for myself. Now you get to help me move,” she hummed.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “how fun.”

Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

-

Y/N commented to Marshall how his natural hair was growing in and he stated that he would make an appointment with the hair stylists to get it recoloured. However, after much convincing he agreed to let Y/N do it.

“I promise you,” she began as he sat on a chair in the bathroom. “I dye my own hair. I can do this.”

In front of them was hair dye and his shaving materials as she was going to shave his stubble as well. Marshall watched her through the mirror, a soft smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I think you should do this naked,” he commented. Y/N was in her underwear and an oversized tee as she faced him with her arms crossed. “I disagree. When you shower, I can join you, but I am not standing here naked in front of you.”

“Tough,” he pouted.

“I love to take care of you and I am so excited to be your hair stylist for the night.”

“You’re amazing, you know that.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Y/N blushed, leaning into his embrace. “You make it easy to be amazing.”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Marshall sat on the chair, tilting his head slightly to give her better access. Y/N started with the hair clipper, taking the machine he had stored in the closet and cutting his hair. The buzzing filled the room as she glided the machine across his head. Hair fell onto the towel that was wrapped around his shirtless form.

“You’re really focusing,” he commented as he paid attention to the machine.

“Don’t distract me,” she whispered.

Once done, she brushed his head letting the hair fall before she took a step back and smiled. “Looks good.”

Marshall rubbed his head with his hand and nodded in approval. “Not too bad, sweet girl,” he said. “Now dye it.”

Y/N grabbed the bleach she got at the store and began to pour the mixture, reading the instructions carefully. Once everything was ready, she motioned Marshall to lean his head back.

“This might get messy,” Y/N warned, donning a pair of gloves. “But I will do my best to keep it under control.”

Marshall chuckled. “I trust you.”

Y/N applied the dye with meticulous care, working it through his freshly cut hair with gentle fingers. Marshall closed his eyes again, a contented sigh escaping his lips. The intimate moment was filled with quiet affection, their bond growing stronger with each shared touch.

As the bleach sat, Y/N rinsed her gloves and turned to look at Marshall. “So pretty,” she whispered, leaning to kiss his lips. “Now let me shave you.”

“I don’t know if I trust you with the razor. Have you shaved someone’s face before?”

“I shave my pussy. I know how to work around a razor,” she chuckled and shrugged.

Marshall chuckled. “I think I will do this by myself.”

“Ok.”

Marshall shaved his face, leaning close to the mirror as she ran her fingers up and down his back. Once finished, he sat back down. She checked to see how it was lifting.

“Ok let’s wash it out before I apply the toner.”

Marshall got up and walked to the walk-in shower, turning it on and stripped his pants. He got in and began to wash the dye out while Y/N leaned against the wall.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said.

He turned around to look at her and he smiled.

“Join, you minx and I will show you want beauty is.”

All Y/N did was smile and removed her clothes.

-

Hope you enjoyed!

Much love,

Ava <3

[wannaeatramyeon]

Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 1

Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Goo's reputation precedes him. 

And, he thinks with a grin as his classmates cower at his entrance, that everything they've heard is likely untrue.

The reality is much worse.

On his first day back to school, fresh from juvie and thirsting for money and violence, he smelt the sweet scent of fear.

He basks in his infamy, other's unease rejuvenating him. Excited to cause a little more chaos before he drops out for good.

As he takes a seat by the window while everybody else takes a wide berth, a shadow looms over him.

"Where's your tie?"

Oh? What's this? He observes you standing in front of him, one hand on your hip, the other pointing in the direction of his absent bit of uniform. 

Huh. Even the staff didn't bother with him, not calling him out for his bleached blonde locks that are strictly against uniform policy. You're just a class monitor, a face he doesn't recognise. A transfer, most likely. 

Fresh meat.

Voice sugary and sweet, Goo puts on an expression as if butter wouldn't melt. "Silly me, I must have forgotten it."

"Goo Kim, is it?"

"That's me!"

"I know it's your first day back, that's why you should be extra prepared."

"I'm sorry, are you going to report me?" Goo's bottom lip juts out in a petulant pout as he peers at you from behind his glasses.

Rolling your eyes at his antics and absolutely not charmed by this infamous delinquent, you rummage around in your backpack for your spare.

"Here," you hold it out to him and Goo blinks in confusion. This he was not expecting.

"Aren't you going to take it?" you shake the tie at him. With suspicion, he takes it from you, fingers brushing together.

"Princess," he purrs, regaining his usual slippery manner "You shouldn't have." Then wrapping it around his neck, "Aren't you going to tie it for me?"

"No. And don't call me Princess."

You walk away, returning to your own seat, fists clenched to hide your trembling hands. It'll be over your dead body before that idiot disrupts your education. 

Of course you have heard about him, your friends had cautioned you the weeks before his return but you had high aspirations to get into a good college. You couldn't afford your grades to drop.

Goo saunters to the front of the classroom, feeling the rest of the students' eyes on him.

Stopping at the trashcan, he turns directly towards you. 

Holds your eye contact as he smiles, throwing the proffered tie in the bin, followed quickly by a lit match.

.

.

Something about your small act of kindness irks Goo. 

Completely rubs him up the wrong way, leading to him asking around about you.

(That soon reaches your ears as you are warned by your friends. "So what?" you retort, "That guy can ask about me all he wants. I have nothing to hide.")

Truly. Everything that Goo hears is a glowing report.

Straight-A student. Teacher's pet. In clubs to rack up extracurricular points. Part-time job. Never putting a foot wrong and well on your way to a full scholarship ride at the top university in the country.

And to round it off, you're pretty cute too. Especially when your face is scrunched up in anger, watching him commit a little casual arson the other day.

In summary, you are someone that would never give him a second glance.

Hmm. This could be an interesting distraction for him. Something until he moves on.

.

.

Another surge of adrenaline pumps through your body as you approach the menace later in the week. Seated eyes closed and feet up on his desk, balancing on just the hind legs of his chairs, hands behind his head.

Not a trouble in the world and certainly no respect.

"You don't have your tie again."

"Nope," Goo says, popping the 'p' and without any remorse whatsoever. He's got a full matchbook and a touch of pyromania. Come at him with all the ties in the world.

"I'm not giving you another one," The vein throbs on your temple and Goo opens one eye to look at you, lips lifting at your expression.

"Never asked, Princess."

"I said don't call me Princess."

"Sorry," A shrug, "Princess."

Obviously not getting anywhere and not wanting to push your luck, you stomp away with a huff, shouting over your shoulder, "And you still owe me a tie!"

Goo closes his eyes again, smiling at the interaction and hums.

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

You take requests for Flower Husbands votes, right? Can I ask for a Flower Husbands ‘Drabble’ as you put it in your reblog? /nf

Hello, hi, yes, sorry this took so long! As an apology, have 1.5k words!

This was... originally going to be a lot angstier, then it was going to be way worse. Then I settled on this, which I will call a hopeful ending.

-

Scott never liked the idea of soulmates. The idea that someone out there is predetermined to be perfect just for him? Yeah right. Scott knew first hand what happened when soulmates weren't meant for each other, he knew how easily resentment for being trapped could foster anger, knew what happened to broken dreams and shattered promises. After all, he bore the scars to prove it.

He remembered sitting among shattered glass and splintered wood at eight years old, staring at the bloodstained skin of his ribs that hid freshly inscribed poppy red words and deciding then and there that they didn't matter. He would never meet his soulmate.

He would not turn into his parents.

-

Going to college was a breath of fresh air. Scott had worked his ass off all through high school, getting good grades, doing volunteer work, immersing himself in extra curriculars, all to insure he could get as many scholarships as possible, moving across the country to Empire Univeristy to get a fresh start. It was nice, being our from under his parents, able to do things he wouldn't have risked back home for fear of upsetting his parents. He decided to study theatre, he dyed his hair a bright cyan, he stayed out late, he drank, he made friends, went to parties.

It was at one of these parties where Scott's problems started.

-

Scott was a drink and a half deep when Skizz - an upperclassmen in Scott's program and the parties host - called for his attention.

"Smajor! Come here!" Skizz's voice was boisterous and excited, and with anyone else Scott would have assumed they were drunk, but he knew better. Skizz was just like that, and he never drank more than maybe one drink over the course of the night when he was hosting, "I wanna introduce you to someone."

Scott slid over to Skizz, smiling at the cute blond by his side who looked a little out of place.

"Ah! Perfect!" Skizz's excitement was contagious, "Scott, this is Jimmy. Top's taken him under his wing, since they're both in the architecture program, and I figured since you're both first years you could bond over that and the fact that youd been stollen by upperclassmen in your programs."

Scott laughed at his words, wasn't that just like Skizz, trying to make everyone comfortable. Turning back to the blond, he held out his hand, "Hey, how are you finding things?"

Scott had gotten introductions down to a science, always careful to keep his words generic and simple, something that could be said by anyone in any sort of situation.

"I’m pretending to be sociable, how about you?" It takes every ounce of self-control and theater training Scott has in order to not react. He knows it wasn't the case, but he swore for a moment, his hip burned.

Choking out a laugh, Scott gave him a nonsense answer, ignoring the slightly crestfallen look on Jimmy's face, and continuing on his night.

So what if his soulmate was at his college. It was a big campus. He'd probably never see him after this party.

-

Scott was wrong about that.

Suddenly it seemed like Jimmy was everywhere. Skizz hadn't been lying about Tango having taken Jimmy under his wing, and since Scott hung out with Skizz a lot, and Skizz and his soulmate Impulse was best friends with Tango, Jimmy started cropping up at a lot of their hangouts.

Not that Scott could bring himself to truly be upset. Jimmy, as it turned out, was lovely to be around. He was kind without effort, and funny, even when he didn't mean to be. He was entirely endearing, never pushing if Scott seemed to be uncomfortable, and always backing off when he realized he hit a boundary of some sort.

Scott never planned to like Jimmy, but somehow he and his sweet brown eyes wormed their way past Scott's defenses, and he figured he could live with being friends.

It's not like there would be any escalating from there.

-

Scott really ought to stop making assumptions when it came to Jimmy.

At a new years party hosted by Tango in their second years of uni, Jimmy asked Scott out.

"I really like you," He had said, words dripping with honey and a hint of vodka, "I like the way you laugh, the was you always seem to be two steps ahead, your eye for detail, and the way you light up when you are on stage."

And Scott, with a slightly rye tinged look on life at that moment, had agree.

"I like you too," the words weren't a lie, but they almost burned like one, "your sweet, and kind, and you always manage to cheer me up when I'm upset. I like your excitement over a challenging project and the way you stick you tongue out slightly when you are concentrating hard enough."

Scott didn't know why exactly he said yes, but he would hope he wouldn't regret it.

-

Scott never took his shirt off around Jimmy.

To his luck, Jimmy didn't complain about the boundary, happy to let Scott sport t-shirts and tank tops, no matter the situation, and Scott fell a little more in love with him foe it. He wanted to tell Jimmy the truth, bit fear kept it locked behind his teeth.

"I have scars," the half truth was somber, he watched his hands so Jimmy could ready the hidden half in his eyes, "my parents were soulmates, and neither of them were particularly happy about it.

"I just happened to be a reminder of both of them to the other."

And Jimmy had held him as tears blurred his vision and swore that he'd never judge Scott for his scars, but he would push if he didn't want to show him them.

Scott cried harder.

He didn't think he deserved understanding.

-

Jimmy suggested they move in together as the end of their theird year was coming about. Scott choked on the water he had taken a sip of, and Jimmy had thumped his back until his airway cleared, apologizing.

"It's just, we spend most of our time together anyways," He explained, no expectations in his voice, "and I figured since our leases are coming up, we could just find somewhere together, but if you'd rather not-"

Scott cut him off with a kiss.

Jimmy was right after all, when Scott had finished packing, two and a half boxes were just stuff Jimmy had left at his apartment over the course of their relationship.

-

In the end, it was Jimmy who ended up being Scott's downfall.

Or more specifically, Jimmy shirt.

Scott had been half asleep against Jimmy as they watched a movie, wrapped in a pair of sweats and one of Jimmy's oversized shirts that absolutely swamped him. He had slowly been slipping more horizontal as the movie played and hadn't realized the shirt had gotten snagged between them, ridding up ever so slightly more with each inch Scott sank.

He could blame Jimmy for look, especially when the bright red stood out against his skin like blood.

Scott couldn't even remember the ensuing argument. Or, well, an argument implied that Scott was fight back. He'd been jostled awake by Jimmy's sudden movement, groggy until the realization of what Jimmy was freaking out over. He'd brought his hand to cover the words instinctual as he was questioned.

"Why did you never say anything?" Everything lead back to that, and Scott couldn't answer.

"Why did you never say anything?" Scott asked himself as he sunk to the ground, undeserved tears clouding his eyes and the resounding click of the front door being closed ringing in his ears.

"Why did you never say anything?"

-

Scott almost didn't expect Jimmy to come back. A little stupid on his end, as it was Jimmy's apartment as well, and he'd need to, at the very least, collect some of his stuff until Scott was able to move out.

Still, the sound of the door opening sent relief through Scott from where he'd set up a bed in the couch.

Jimmy deserved to get the bed. Scott wouldn't take it, even if he hadn't been sure Jimmy would be back that night.

He waited for the footsteps to go the bedroom, confused when instead they made their way over to the couch.

He kept his eyes closed. Hoping maybe Jimmy would think he was asleep and leave him be.

"I'm so sorry, baby," the words were whisper soft, and Scott wouldn't have been able to keep the furrow from his brow if he tried, "You told me when we first started dating about your scars, about why you had them. I should have understood why you would do what you did, but I just yelled."

Scott cracked his eyes open, summer sky meeting milk chocolate, and he was surprised to see Jimmy crack a smile when he did.

"I'm not saying I'm not... upset," his words were careful, searching, "and I can't say this hasn't changed anything. But nothing is broken that can't be fix."

And he was right, coke later there were be long talks and discussions of everything, there would be tears and apologies and fixing things would be no small feat, but they would heal.

Nothing broken couldn't be fixed.

[greeeengoblin]

✏ My Jason Todd angst fanfics ↴

Like Mother Like Son ;

Jason is starting to look more and more like his mother, Catherine. Things don't change, especially when he become a father.

The BatFamily was just wondering when things were going to go to shit ..And yes, Jason had a 4-year-old daughter and her psychology was not very good.

I can keep you safe In my foolish arms :

"What did I do?"

"Don't you see?" Bruce asked, approaching Jason a little more. Jason kept pulling back towards the wall whenever Bruce approached, but Bruce continued to advance towards him, and Jason fell to the ground. Bruce crouched down in front of Jason. He took Jason's painfully weak and scarred wrist and said, "Look. You tried to kill yourself, Jason, there are too many drugs in your system. You keep losing your memory every week."

"No..." Jason said. He tried to pull his wrist away, but Bruce, although not holding it tightly, couldn't let go. "No, no, no." Jason tried to get up, he couldn't breathe. He held his head and started pulling his hair, screaming, but his voice was still very tired, he was crying. "No... I'm sorry, I don't want to, I can't stand staying here." he said, burying his head in Bruce's chest. Bruce hugged Jason.

"Calm down," Bruce said in a soothing voice. He stroked Jason's hair and kissed him on the head. "I can't get you out of here, Jason, it's for your own good. You're insane."

You Make me Wanna Scream at the Top of my Lungs :

After the events of Under The Red Hood, Jayna Todd Wayne isn't sure who to trust. Even though she's not yet 17 and her father chose that sadistic clown over her, so she's not even sure of her own psychological state. Soo ... I think she's madly in love with Slade Wilson.

Bruce and the others aren't happy about it.

The Penthouse :

Opera AU

Jason Wayne was one of the rich, spoiled kids at Hera Place Academy. Timothy Drake, on the other hand, was a servant at the Wayne Manor. One day, Tim surpasses Jason in a secretly attended opera competition and begins studying at Hera Place Academy on a scholarship.

At the same time, he is also on the verge of unraveling secrets about his real family.

For example, secrets similar to those of Selina Kyle, who lost her son 14 years ago.

You're Coming Back and it's the End of the World :

"They hurt me..." 

Dick suddenly fell silent, he gathered all his strength to keep his voice calm and gentle. "I know," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion, "I know what they did. They can't hurt you anymore."

Jason's eyes twitched. Mentally unstable and with brain damage, he seemed like a nine-year-old child mentally. "They put something inside me, it hurts," he said, his voice unclear.

The trauma in Dick's eyes was evident, listening to Jason's words with pain and freshness, but he suppressed his own emotions, took a deep breath. "I know," he said gently, his voice trembling.

From you From me From us :

Jason instantly turned the gun on himself, pointing it to the side of his head. No one expected this. No one knew Jason would aim at himself.

"I can get rid of me for you..." Jason said, his voice trembling, but beneath his tear-filled eyes was a smile, a crazy giggle.

"JASON!" Dick took a step forward the moment he noticed the gun.

"DON'T—" said Jason, gripping the gun's barrel more tightly. "Today.. you will become a killer, Batman.. I will take you down with me. When I die, you will lose your essence too. You will face the consequences of the moral order you established from the beginning. I don't care about the criminals you didn't kill to avoid guilt, but you will watch my brain splatter—"

Could never tell you what happened the day ı turned seventeen :

Oh... right... My fault!" Jason felt the sobs taking over him. His body was shaking, and he couldn't stop it. "Dying was my fault, finding myself in a green liquid was my fault, becoming a stupid zombie and being completely alone was MY FAULT!" Jason stood up. "I’M SO SORRY!"

Bruce was shocked by the unexpected outburst. Still, he maintained his composure. He had never seen Jason cry since he came back from the dead, never seen him so weak, helpless, and childlike... never seen him so sad.

Jason, breathing heavily, found solace in shouting. On this birthday, he decided to do himself a favor and confess what was inside him. "I'm sorry, Bruce... I'm sorry I couldn't kill myself." Jason spoke as he wiped his nose with his elbow.

"What?" Bruce stood up, now face to face with Jason. He approached him. "What did you say?"

Crack Baby You Don't Know What You Want :

What… What’s going on? I didn’t do anything, I didn’t take any toxin and… and I swear I didn’t kill anyone.” Jason couldn’t control the tremor in his voice. If this was a punishment, it was a terrifying one. “I swear… I didn’t—”

"Shhh..." Bruce soothed, stroking Jason's hair. Dick was wiping away his tears from behind the glass. Jason's begging was truly frightening. "It's okay, Jason, it's just... the nurses need to check something..."

"Bruce..." Jason looked at Bruce with anger in his eyes. "What's going on... You're scaring me."

[nctsplug02]

basketball captain jaehyun and student council reaader angrry/hate sex at the office

BS captain jeong.j

GENRE: smut and angst

WARNINGS: FWB, crying, protected sex, degrading, spanking, hair pulling, and no aftercare

several minutes ago, you were flirting with jaehyuns best friend on the basketball team then, you were in his dads office, getting your brains fucked out from behind.

“it’s gonna have to take a lot more to learn my lesson, jeong.” you taunted him, softly chuckling as you did. you hiss with an eye roll when feeling another yank making your head jerk back.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize catching the jock behind you off guard. “was that s—supposed to hurt?” a spank has you clenching around his dick.

jaehyun gives your hair another tug. “why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut? it seems you have a problem with that.” your moans grow louder as his thrusts become more sharper.

“you know you love it when my mouth is open— earlier says a lot.” another spank has you gasping. “i only love it when you’re choking on my dick— other than that, keep your mouth shut and stop flirting with my fucking teammates.”

you let out a whimper when feeling him pinch and twist your nipple. “didn’t you say no jealousy involved?” you wince at the sudden hair tug. “when it comes to you— i hate sharing. i hate when someone flirts with what’s mine.”

you scoff— i hate when someone flirts with what’s mine.

“since when was i yours, jeong?” this was a fucking but no strings attached kind of situation. “the moment i fucking claimed you was when you were mine.” not specific enough. “and, when was that?”

“september thirteenth, the boys locker room— when i hid you from my coach behind my locker door while i was buried balls deep inside you.”

it was the thirteenth of september; you went into the boys locker room after hearing how he messed around with one of your friends. you wanted to seek revenge for her as she was too afraid to. jaehyun was fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his tiny waist. you confront him but fell for his charm instead. you taunted him saying how he wouldn’t dare take you against the lockers so, he show you and took you against the lockers. and, then his coach walked in. jaehyun and you panicked so, he opened his locker and pushed you slightly in with his cock still buried in your cunt.

“ahh,” you let out a dreamy sigh. “that day.. what an unforgettable day. it was the day you screwed my friend over and fucked me against your locker.” jaehyun let out a throaty chuckle while massaging your hips. “you were supposed to be a good friend by telling me off but look at you, whipped for my dick.”

“no, im—?” as you try to deny the honest fact, jaehyun shuts you up by withdrawing his cock till just his tip is left until slamming right back into your cunt. “you were saying? i didn’t hear you clearly because of your moans and whines.”

the grip from your hair allows your head to drop, your legs quiver as your orgasm hits slowly yet deadly. your head hangs low while jaehyun thrusts a few more times before busting into the condom.

“admit you want me, jeong.” you say, breathlessly. “your possessiveness and jealousy says it all.” you softly chuckle while attempting to hold yourself up.

jaehyun slides the condom off and ties it before tossing it in the tiny trash bin placed next to the desk. he doesn’t say a word while he dresses himself.

“just because we’re fucking on the low doesn’t mean i want you, y/n. i cant lose my scholarship and my reputation for some low life. clean yourself up and leave.” jaehyun leaves with a light click from the door.

a harsh ping hits you in the chest as you attempt to hold back tears. your eyes sting and burn as you try your hardest to not cry.

he doesn’t mean it. he doesn’t mean it.

a voice told you but another voice told you to just move on. you grabbed your dress of the ground and slipped it on, not carrying about the water droplets that dripped from your chin.

just because we’re fucking on the low doesn’t mean i want you, y/n.

i cant lose my scholarship and my reputation for some low life.

clean yourself up and leave

his words stung so badly. you wouldn’t let the jeong jaehyun get away with this embarrassment.